"Rainbows Cas? How gay are you guys?" Castiel rolled his eyes, and Dean made a mental note to slap Sammy for teaching him that. When Castiel's gaze flicked over, Dean remembered that Cas was listening, so instead he thought about how badly he wanted these stupid tests to be over.

"Dean, relax, this is the easiest one."

"So this is the last one then? You angels don't really have a tough test then, do you? High standards not really your thing?"

"I never said last, I said easiest. I'll have to teach you to listen better." And for a moment there, Dean swore Castiel was flirting. But surely not, right?

"That's the same thing though, isn't it?" Seeing the way that Castiel was looking at him now, he decided to drop the line of questioning and just do as he was asked. Something about his gaze had Dean reassessing their relationship.

Castiel gestured to a small glass of water, which appeared in front of Dean's eyes. "Go on Dean, make a rainbow."

"Like, just think about it?"

"If you can make butterflies that don't think, silent, I am pretty sure you can master making a rainbow pretty easily." Castiel had begun to speak differently, and Dean was very confused. Was Castiel seriously flirting with him?

"How many colors do you want?"

"How many colours are in the rainbow, Dean?" The sarcasm fell out of Castiel so fast, Dean almost didn't catch it.

"Five or six? I dunno." He shrugs, not really thinking that he'll be able to do this at all. Especially when he had no real understanding of how rainbows even worked. Maybe it was magnets.

Without skipping a beat, Castiel must have read his mind, because, 'How are you a mechanic if you don't know how rainbows work?"

"What the hell does that have to do with rainbows? Mechanics are for cars. Rainbows are not anything near cars."

"But it's all science Dean. You can do this. Just try."

"But it's not science, it's colors." Dean was getting increasingly upset at the notion that they were remotely the same thing.

"Science is science Dean. Apply logic here. We gave you water. When do rainbows occur? Think Dean!" Castiel's fists were balled up at his sides, and Dean's gaze flicked to Andriel, who was furiously writing in his paper pad.

"Cas, that's a stupid question. You get rainbows when it rains. I suppose that's why the hell they call them rainbows in the first place."

"Exactly! You can do this!"

"You aren't listening to me. I can't do this. You said this was the easiest ones and then the only instructions you give me is MAKE THE THING." Castiel visibly shook he was so frustrated with the lack of confidence that Dean had in himself. And Dean could tell, which only made this whole thing worse.

"Dean, seriously. Make the rainbow." Castiel's voice went deadpan, like Sam's. Dean really did have to slap his little brother. Next thing he knew, Cas was going to start in on the bitch faces. If Dean heard 'get this' from Cas, he would lose his shit.

"I. CAN. NOT. MAKE. A. RAIN. BOW." He gestured violently with his arms.

"You. Made. A. Rain. Bow." Castiel sighed in relief, and Dean took half a moment to absorb that. And as sure as hell, when Dean turned his head, there it was, as clear as any he had seen in his entire life, the roy, the g, and the biv, in all of it's glory - A FREAKING RAINBOW.

"I made a rainbow. Cas, how in the-."

"Dean. You made a rainbow." Andriel smiled, and for the first time since Dean got here, it was warm. He was so pleased with himself, the rainbow became even more intense, and Dean couldn't tell if the pride was coming from himself or emanating off Castiel, but he let himself enjoy it.

But it was short lived as there was a look that was exchanged between the senior angels.

"What?" Dean asked, trying to decipher the look without assuming the worst. "Guys, did I do okay?" Castiel looked back, trying to reassure Dean.

"Dean, you are doing so well. It's weird because you are only a month old. Most fledglings aren't anywhere close to this level. I don't know if it's your dad's training, or just your exposure to angels, but you a mastering this really quickly."

"But this one might be a bit harder?" Dean was worried that this would keep him from achieving the proper status that he deserved.

"Don't think of it as hard, but just different. How it works is different, and what it achieves is different. Do you understand?"

"Fine. What do I have to do now?" Exasperated, Dean threw his arms up.

"I'll show you. Because it's a bit more complicated in how it works, and how it's applied. You'll be diving into my mind and showing me a memory. The further back you go, the better. I'll show you how it works from the inside. Here." Castiel held his hand out, an open invitation that Dean could easily decline.

Dean mentally shrugged, and nodded. Castiel's hand touched Dean's forehead, and the soft, calloused hands felt like they reached all the way inside. Instantly, Dean was taken away from the soft, white light of the angel test room, and deep inside a memory. Much like his walk through heaven, Dean was now sat atop the Impala, fireworks exploding above him. The acrid air smelled heavily of ozone and metal and something that Dean had always assumed was childhood wonder. Castiel stood next to him, trying to explain what was happening.

"So I'm showing you a recent memory, of you and Sam on 4th of July. But I want you to know I'm going to take you back a little further, and to do that requires really getting inside someone's head. So give me a moment."

The first thing that hit Dean was the next smell. It was familiar, and warm. Dean's heart leapt, and he couldn't work out why. The smell was homey, and floral, with vanilla and cinnamon. There was an undertone of something new, and pleasant. Not an animal smell, more human. It made him think of Sam for some reason. And warm blankets.

Was it Lisa? No, she was more fruity in perfume. Citrusy almost. Jo didn't wear any. She only smelled of shampoo, and occasionally gunpowder and cheap whiskey. Did Charlie? He hadn't really noticed. But she reminded him of something homey and warm. He thought about fresh air when he thought of Charlie. One of the women he had dated? Not Cassie, she had worn something that was most assuredly advertised in a woman's fashion magazine. Or Rhonda Hurley - she had worn that god-awful Patchouli and smoked clove cigarettes. He didn't think and ex would elicit that kind of reaction anyway. The majority of the others usually smelled of alcohol and cheap hotels. Then who?

It hit Dean like a train full of bricks. 'Mom...'

The feeling that hit Dean when he realised who he smelled almost blocked out the scene around him. His childhood bedroom, his blue bear shirt spread across the bed. He could smell her, she surrounded him and this space and he could feel her. It made his heart and chest constrict tightly, and he wanted to sit down and get over this.

He felt as though he could reach out and touch the memory of her that was in his mind right now. The smells were getting more intense now and it was taking all he had to fight against it. He wanted to call out to Cas, but he felt so small, so helpless.

"Dean, take my hand." Dean's brain stopped processing. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Next he knew there was a hand on his shoulder and a tugging, calming feeling coming from within his heart. There he was back in the white room, the last lingering scent of his mother clinging to his shirt.

Dean sat rigidly on the floor, trying to take at least one full breath. Castiel's hand was still on his shoulder, clinging tightly. Dean's head moved, almost automatically, and met with the most intense, regretful gaze that Castiel had ever given. Dean was literal inches from his face, and being that close both terrified and relaxed him.

"Castiel. Stay. The fuck. Out of my. Mother. Fucking. Brain." Dean couldn't help it. As soon as the helplessness left him, all he could do was seethe. He wasn't even angry at Cas, he was angry at himself. How could he succumb to such weakness so quickly?

"Dean, you have to do the same to me now. That's the test."

"You mean to tell me that wasn't it?" Castiel shook his head. "Well fuck me, Cas." Eye roll. Sam was definitely being told off.

"Dean, concentrate, deep breaths. And come inside me."

Dean blanched at that. "Really?"

"Really."

He took a deep breath, and reached his hand out gently. The feeling he experienced when he touched Castiel's face was unlike anything he had experienced. He was looking back at himself, while also looking at Castiel. He could feel the ghost of his hand on his own face, as well as the soft stubble on Cas' jaw. Once he adjusted, he was confused as to what to do next.

"Open your mind, I guess?" Dean relaxed his mind as much as he could given the circumstances a few minutes ago. And with each breath, he saw more of Castiel and less of the room around him. But was it really Castiel? He saw Jimmy in front of him, crying and begging, but he also saw Claire, the little blonde girl, with a face of ice. It was bizarre, but Dean remembered something vague. He and Sam were finding him, and found Jimmy instead. And then he was Jimmy and sitting at his dinner table with his family, and then he was Castiel watching Jimmy dip his hands into boiling water, and he was Jimmy again, hearing Castiel's real voice. A bright white light, and then the exact feeling that Jimmy described to them, a comet, and Dean couldn't get off.

The next thing Dean experienced was food. The feeling of a gnawing hunger, deep in the pit of his stomach. The warm softness of bread, and the taste of meat, tender and juicy and greasy. The soda tingling in his mouth, crisp and refreshing and, pleasant and oh-so right and cloyingly sweet but so welcome on his parched tongue. The feeling of sandwiches in his belly with his family, even through the judgemental stares of his still-religious family. The smell of his wife's perfume, the smell of Claire's detangler on school mornings, the smell of coffee.

Then Dean smelled chlorine, bleach and something vaguely hospital-y. It burned through his nostrils and made him feel danger. He flinched back a bit and felt Cas pull him back in. He was sure this counted as angel interference, but he was quietly glad for the help. The smell was getting stronger at this point. Dean's stomach rolled over, flipping and roiling deep in the pit of his navel. He swallowed heavily, and moved forward, trying to come out of the other side of this memory. He could feel, on the outside of his body, shaking and pressure on his forehead, but instead he looked for Castiel's soul, trying to find his way through the waves of emotion and colour.

Finally it all settled, and Dean watched three different versions of the same event. It was hard to describe, but there were physically in front of him, floating lazily, pulsing in time with Dean's heartbeat. He looked around, seeing one very close to him, one further aside, and then one lazily hanging at the back, of the almost-room.

On the first memory, the one closest to him, he could see Castiel looking down on Jimmy, the small man's face arched up, saying yes. Then it zoomed in and Dean dizzily pulled back, fighting his stomach again. The one next to him, floating in arms reach, was Jimmy, talking to his wife, then there was a blur and he looked into the cold grey of his daughter's eyes. He was begging Castiel to please take him back. Dean had seen both of these, and it offered nothing new to him, so instead he looked up, at the third.

A sense of panic powered through him, but not from within him. He looked around and saw a large shape bent over, quivering quietly. He moved forward, albeit slowly because it felt like he was wading through mud. And every step he took got harder, but he needed to get to this golden creature, he felt a pull, and the panic emanating from it was torture to listen to. As he moved closer, he started making out more features, like a lion's face, and a long, glowing mane. The being moved, and he saw a goats head, ravens feathers, and…

...a giant handprint on its arm.

A handprint? Why would something so golden and ethereal have a handprint burned into its shoulder? He waded forward, and then out of nowhere the resistance disappeared. Dean stumbled but kept his footing, and as he raised his head, bright purple eyes stared back at him. The lion's head held his gaze, and as Dean's heart went into over-drive he took a deep breath, steeled his mind, and reached his hand out.

The lion leaned into his open palm, and the sensation that ran through Dean was so familiar and alien at once, it made his heart still. The goat's head bleated softly, and he turned to see the raven looking out from under a wing that apparently this thing had. 3 heads, and so big he couldn't see where it ended. He looked it over, looking at the mixture of skin, fur and feathers, trying to work out just what it was. He looked around, back at the memories, around the vague darkness of the almost-room, and tried to really get a scope of where he was. The small memory, the one that hung back and seemed almost shy, was edging closer to him. He reached out, gently caressed it and instantly saw.

Claire…

He was looking at Claire, she was asking Castiel questions. What it felt like, if her dad was going to be okay, would this help him? Dean heard a soft, lilting voice, with bells and ethereal singing answer her back. Reassuring her, Castiel sang soft words filled with promises, assurances and love. Claire closed her eyes, and opened herself up. The dizzy rushing feeling happened again, but this time Dean was prepared. He watched Claire stand, now Castiel, and felt her fear and love inside of Castiel's quiet defiance.

Claire's fear was realised when she saw Jimmy again. Dean could feel her scratching and clawing at herself, so desperate to get to her father, screaming and crying, falling on Castiel's then-uncaring ears. 'Daddy! Daddy please help me!' Dean's heart leapt, and without helping it, tears began to stream down her face. He heard a low growl, and pulled himself out of the memory. The creature sat next to him, tears streaming from all three heads. He reached out again, stroking each head gently, calming himself and the creature down.

The sound of wings pulled him out of his reverie, and he turned to behold something 3 times the size of the beast behind him. Glowing blue, it was easily the size of the Chrysler building. Sporting 4 white horse heads, a set of beautiful white wings, and beneath that a set of giant bee wings, the creature made his heart leap with joy, though for the life of him, he couldn't work out why. And then he saw, just there on the shoulders where giant cat paws grew from strong muscular arms, was another handprint.

These creatures were linked?

Both creatures had that handprint. Both on the opposite arm from each other though. It was branded onto the skin, thick scar tissue shining brightly against the dim glow of the creature. A memory, from nowhere, filtered forward into his view, and in the lifeless blob, he saw fire. Hot, red heat, chains and claws and meathooks. He leaned closer, dipped inside, and immediately regretted it. Dean looked inside and saw his saviour. Castiel descending and his hand braced against Dean's. It was bizarre to watch himself so desperately grabbing back, locking their arms together. He pulled out of the memory at the same time he saw a blaze of white emanating from their hands.

Dean looked back, and put two and two together more quickly than he would have liked. Dean was looking at his angel, and Castiel's angel. The horse was Castiel, and the lion was himself.

Shit.