Author's notes: Hello! If there are still any readers out there who remember this story, this is the end of it. And probably the end of my writing attempts. It was fun! You are awesome! Thank to all of you!

Special hugs for AlexHamato! Without her this story probably wouldn't exist...


Castiel made a low stifled sound, struggling to breathe. Dean's mind worked frantically. With his peripheral vision he saw his gun that had fell to the floor at the moment Nathaniel threw him against that wall. He placed carefully the angel blade at his feet and leaned over to grab his weapon.

"Hey, asshole!" the hunter rasped. The taste of blood in his mouth made his voice hoarse, "I said let him go."

It wasn't a particularly smart move, but hey, it worked. Nathaniel turned to him, completely abandoned her victim. Cas slid helplessly down the door and sat on the ground, coughing.

"Seriously, Dean?" The woman smiled, "I am a god. Your funny human toys cannot harm me."

"I think I'll push my luck a bit more." The man shrugged and pulled the trigger. The bullet whistled inches from red-haired woman's face.

"Is it worth the effort, Dean?" Nathaniel took a step closer to him with a broad smirk. "For him," she nodded toward Castiel, who was no longer even moving. "You don't know half of what he had done. If I tell you how much blood is smeared on his hands, how many innocent lives..."

"I don't care!" Dean snapped angrily, "I don't give a rat's ass about your motives. You're a monster."

"And he is the same," she replied softly, "Rachel, Balthazar, Samandriel, Naomi, Hannah... They all trusted him, Dean. And all of them paid with their lives for that trust."

"Balthazar?" Dean nearly choked on the word, "You're lying ..."

"Oh." Nathaniel tilted her head in mildly surprised gesture, "You don't know? Balthazar died by the hand of your friend, stabbed in the back with an angel blade. Because he helped you."

"Even so," Dean gritted his teeth, "You're not the one to judge."

"But ..." The angel was standing inches from the barrel of his gun, "Within minutes you'll find yourself back at that table in the coffee shop, I'll serve you coffee and you'll have no memory of what happened here."

With a flick of her hand Nathaniel threw Dean back on his ass on the floor.

"Time for a change of plans, bitch!" Dean hissed in pain when his injured shoulder hit the ground, hard enough for him to see stars.

Despite the pain, with a measured movement (which he was considering through the past several minutes, just waiting for the right moment,) he rolled over and emptied the magazine of his weapon in the high windows. The glass rang and pieces rained down on the floor, breaking the bindings as well.

"I know a thing or two about enochian magic." Dean grinned up to the angry angel, "Alter a sigil ... even the slightest ... and you change the whole spell. I figured this would do the job."

"You fool!" Nathaniel hissed, "This doesn't change anything. You will only prolong your agony."

The rogue angel's threatening form was looming over Dean, when a trembling hand grabbed the female figure by the shoulder and spun her around. Nathaniel was so confident in her victory that she had completely forgotten about Castiel. She had no time to react before the angel blade slid across her throat with precision, leaving a red trail of blood mixed with grace.

Dean needed just a second to grasp what his friend was about to do.

"Cas, no!" The man shouted, trying to sit up. "Don't…"

Cas' head was thrown back. He was barely standing upright. The angry, red, smoke-like substance left Nathaniel's dying vessel. With one deep inhale the foreign grace invaded Castiel's body. The angel fell on his knees. "Eyes!" He snarled at Dean, gasping for air. "Dean, now!"

The hunter instinctively covered his eyes at the moment the room burst in blood red and a powerful shock wave slammed him face-down back on the floor.


Dean's ears kept ringing long after the storm died down and faded. With a groan, he sat up, looking around, his limbs still feeling heavy. The warehouse was in ruins. The roof was nearly missing and the bright midday sun made him wince. Bits of glass crunched under his boots. He stood up carefully, checking his body for injuries. Surprisingly, not even a scratch. He rolled his injured shoulder. Nothing. The only thing reminiscent of bygone fight were his headache and fatigue. Well, okay. Maybe also the fact that the damn warehouse had turned into fucking battlefield.

"Cas?" His voice came out weak and hoarse as he called for his friend. But the angel was nowhere to be seen. "Damn it! Cas!" Dean called again.

A strange noise made him look up just in time to see one of the thick beams of the roof collapsing upon him. But he had no time to cover or to try and jump away. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw how the beam hung in the air, about three feet above his head.

"Damn it!" Dean stumbled out through the nearest hole in the wall that was large enough for him to move through. He heard the beam crashing into the spot where he stood a moment ago.

"Sonofabitch!" Dean cursed, coughing dust and leaning over the Impala's trunk for support. "Show yourself!"

"Dean."

Castiel (or something very much like him, Dean remarked mentally), stood a few feet away and watched him patiently. His hair was slightly mussed, no trace of dark circles under his eyes or the stubble which previously were proofs of his weakened state. His clothes were also flawless, no bloodstains or ripped parts. The angel looked like just taken out of the dry cleaning, Dean mused. The thought made him nauseous.

"Hey, buddy ..." The hunter began with hesitation; his fingers instinctively sought the lock of Baby's trunk, in case he had to grab a weapon. This only increased the nausea.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Dean," the angel said calmly.

"Yeah, uh ... 'course you won't ... " Dean swallowed hard and pulled back his hand from the lock. His whole body tensed, ready for fight.

"I do not understand ..." Castiel narrowed his eyes, "I just saved your life. I am still me. And I am your friend."

"Yes, Cas. I, uh .." Dean almost choked on his words for a second time this day, "Thank you, buddy. Now ... Let's just ... You don't need that kind of juice anymore, right?"

"You mean Nathaniel's grace?" The angel frowned. "Yes, I do. I need to repair your soul. This is not something I can do for a day. It requires time."

"We'll find another way." Dean's voice came out dangerously close to pleading.

"Dean ... " Pain crept over Castiel's face, "there's no other way. If I don't do this, you will turn into something far worse than just a demon. You were a knight of Hell once. I can't let that happen again."

Well, Cas sounded quite like himself after all, the man thought. "Look, I just don't like the thought of your psycho brother's mojo being inside you, you know?"

"I feel good. "Castiel reassured him with a small nod, eyes looking at Dean, cold and calm. "Actually I feel better that I have felt in a long time."

Dean swallowed, his mouth suddenly felt dry. In that case, there wasn't much room for making decisions. He had to take Cas home to Sam and the entire arsenal of the Men of Letters, hoping that the angel won't suddenly snap and start chasing them down the corridors with an ax. Not that he would need a weapon anyway. With such a power he could tear them apart with a single thought.

Dean looked at his friend sideways. The feeling of déjà-vu crept into his mind. What if Cas had returned to his dick-mode from years ago? The man chased that thought with a shake of his head. But there was something so damn familiar in angel's ridiculous head tilt, ruffled hair and narrowed eyes. Even his tie was loosened just like the day Dean met him for the first time.

"So, you want to go through hell to fix my miserable soul ... " Dean forced a smile, but it never reached his eyes. "Sounds familiar. You need to stop doing that, buddy."

The angel didn't answer. He just kept staring at him. The man shifted uncomfortably and bit his bottom lip, feeling almost naked under such intense stare.

"Great..." Dean cleared his throat and walked to the other side of Baby to climb into the front seat. His hands were shaking a little while he took the key and started the engine. "Hey, you coming or what... Fuck!" The rest of his words were lost in the shock when Cas suddenly appeared in the passenger seat. "Wow! Seriously, Cas? Should we do the talk about using the doors again?"

"I apologize," the angel said. The man snorted to that.

From where Dean was sitting, it seemed that the corners of Castiel's lips twitched in response.

"Yeah, right." The elder Winchester pressed his lips in a thin line and drove back to the main road in silence.


Castiel's eyes were wandering outside the side window, while Baby was roaring softly down the road back to the Bunker. He could sense Dean's tension, feeling the man's eyes digging a hole in the back of his neck. Couple of times Dean opened his mouth to say something, but then apparently decided against it and kept driving without a word, knuckles white from squeezing the steering wheel.

Truth to be told, Castiel had his concerns. He had forgotten how it felt to have someone else's grace inside him. The fact itself was bad enough. Additionally, it wasn't a pure grace. It was tainted and corrupt. It was red angry, fighting and burning through his own, causing constant drumming in the back of his mind.

But it was strong. A necessary tool. Useful. Castiel mused if he could go and test its limits later. His limits. His wings were all healed for sure. They felt different though. Everything felt different. There were constant red circles just out of the corner of his eyes. Nathaniel's grace allowed him to see the world again. In a ways he hadn't seen it in a long time.

He could easily take them back to the Bunker in a blink of an eye. But there was something strangely comforting about driving back. In Dean's presence.

Castiel also wanted to give Dean some time to adjust.

The man snorted again, irritated as the car jumped because of a bump on the road. "Sonofabitch!" he cursed under his breath, body tensed and hands still gripping the steering wheel like a lifebelt. Castiel could barely suppress the urge to reach out to Dean's mind. His fingers dig into the seat while the foreign grace was bubbling inside his chest.

Yes, controlling it might be a bit more difficult than he thought. But if this needed to be the price to be paid for Dean's soul, he was ready to pay it.

END