And for a moment, just a moment. Castiel felt something.

But it was gone as fast as it had come. He pushed the demon off of him.

"What? Did you not hear me?" Castiel asked when he could catch his breath. "I don't want anything to do with you."

"This is not you talking, angel," Dean told him pleadingly. "This is his doing. He's stolen your light."

"It's me talking," Castiel growled through his teeth. "It's always been me talking. I meant every word I said. I. Hate. You. You are an abomination, Dean. You. Your kind...You don't belong here. You don't belong anywhere. You taint every thing you've ever touched. You think I could ever care for a monster like you?"

"Angel, listen to me,"said Dean. "It's not you. You're sharing his mind...projecting his thoughts, I don't know but this is not you."

Castiel tilted his head, a smile on his face. "What makes you sure? Is it because I'm not throwing myself at your feet? I'm not holding onto you and hoping to God and Heaven that you're real and we're back together again? Is it because I'm not sheltering your pain that you've accumulated for the last thousand years and telling you I'm here now? Don't flatter yourself, Dean. Only you could be so arrogant as to victimize yourself in a circumstance such as this."

"How the fuck am I the victim?!" Dean snarled. "I died. I went to Hell. I was at peace with that decision. Has it been a merry old ride with laughter and fun? Fuck no. But I did it. It was my decision. You think I wanted this? You think I wanted any of you to follow me?"

"You think I came here for you?"

"What did you come here for then, angel? Was it to watch me die? Because that's all he's here for. That's all he wants. That's all he's ever wanted. My death. It's been the focus of his life since the day I banished him down here. What you have been hearing? His side? Oh, I'm sure his misfortunes have been grave indeed in your eyes if you honestly believe he's not at fault," Dean growled, stepping close so that he was in Castiel's space. "I'm a King, Castiel. I may not have been the best one in the realm, but I held that crown in my last breath and I never regretted a single decision I made while wearing it. There is no room for doubt when you own the entire fucking underground."

"Maybe you shouldn't be justifying yourself to me...and maybe telling this to him instead. When he's healed of course," said Castiel, seeming unfazed by his words. "Dante wants to kill you Dean. No, let me rephrase...because he said it quite differently. You're dead already. He wants to break you. He wants me to watch. Perhaps he thought that adding that last part would make it more dramatic...but honestly seeing a King fall is nothing to me...Why, you and I just so happened to witness that already, did we not? Though your enjoyment of Lucifer's fall into this pit was rather...short-lived, wouldn't you say?"

Dean blinked and a revelation seemed to come to him. He looked amazed. "Wow, he's got his hooks in you deep. You didn't answer me. Why you're here. You ate up all his bullshit, didn't you? You would have not killed Sam, turned him into one of mine if not. What did he take from you, angel. What did he break inside you?"

Before Castiel could stop him, Dean invaded his personal space again and took his face once more, except this time Dean's fingers splayed across his temples. He caught a passing glimpse of Dean's face, furrowed in concentration. Through the black haze that had formed inside of his mind from Dante's magic, he felt the fiery presence of the demon invading. Automatically, his hands reached up and gripped Dean's wrists.

"Your memories are there. They don't require restoration...but your perception of them has been jaded. You look upon them with spite," Dean remarked after a long moment. His voice deepened and echoed, both out loud and inside of Castiel's mind. " Show me."

A command. Castiel struggled, his nails digging into Dean's skin, cutting through the fabric of his jacket. Dean didn't wince. Didn't let go. He felt a flash of something in the forefront of his mind as Dean pulled it forward ruthlessly. Castiel resisted. It was all he could do, but his eyes began to water from the strain and fight.

He closed his eyes.

Dean took him back. Ten years ago.

Dean found himself standing in a cemetery. Several gravestones littered the place but where he was set, there was a pair right in front of him that stood out. Two gravestones that looked relatively untouched. There had been flowers here from long ago, but whoever had paid visitation stopped. Maybe they had moved on. Maybe it had been too long that everyone who cared from their past had died.

JOHN WINCHESTER MARY WINCHESTER

Side by side. Died the same day. There was nothing else significant about the gravestones. They had no further markings on how either of them died. Just their names and length of life.

A third grave was being placed next to theirs of equal size. His own name written on it. A coffin had been put in six feet below. Closed casket. Of course. Maybe the grave would remain unmarked. Or maybe they would actually add how he died.

DEAN WINCHESTER

Died trying to kill Satan. You know how that goes.

Sounded funnier in his head.

Before it, stood Castiel, next to him, Balthazar. Both of their faces very grave. Dean had been placed behind them, so he was out of their direct sight. Both of them wore their silver armor, and had made themselves invisible to the grave worker who was piling up dirt on the casket.

It was the Castiel that Dean remembered. White wings tucked behind a red cape that reached past his feet. A gleaming silver sword tucked on his belt. Dean felt curious that this memory was the one he had found himself in. He had deliberately pulled one that caused the darkness to root in Castiel. And yet the celestial light in both angels was unmistakable.

"Maybe you should say a few words," said Balthazar after a long moment. "You knew him best."

"Not even Gabriel showed up. Even after interfering and telling Michael...I'm surprised," said Castiel with a scoff.

"I have a feeling he has somewhere else to mourn, if he is mourning," said Balthazar. "You know what his last words to me were? Said 'Have faith. Dean did the right thing, even if we all won't agree with it.' I'm not a fool...but maybe I am for I'm assuming he meant you."

"Most likely," Castiel nodded slowly. "I wouldn't agree with it even if Dean rose himself and told me. But I suppose he would do that if he could. I could imagine what he'd say right now."

"What's that?"

"I always had trouble reading Dean's emotions," Castiel admitted with a sad smile. "I always had trouble...in the short time of knowing him...sensing where his thoughts were heading. He seemed to make decisions spontaneously...whenever he deemed them right. Even if that upset other people. I could imagine he'd say to me-"

"Hello angel," said Dean from behind him.

Castiel turned and just as he did, Balthazar faded away as though he was a mirage. His face paled and he looked ready to collapse. "Dean...No...You can't...be...Balthazar he..." His eyes went back to Dean, eyebrows going high. "Is this a dream?"

"No, I'm in your memory," said Dean, taking a look around, his hands in his pockets. "This is a dull place. You should really have found better places to go in your time without me. Like a pool...or a basketball game. Ooh! Or a yacht. Yachts are amazing."

"How are you in here? You can't be in my memory...That's...That's beyond your power," said Castiel, clasping his forehead. "I'm dreaming. But I don't...remember requiring sleep."

"Beyond my power," Dean repeated dryly. "Please."

"It's an Archangel power," said Castiel, shaking his head and closing his eyes as if he had gotten a headache.

"You angels believe anything you can't do is an Archangel's power. They're not Gods, angel," said Dean. "Let's just say it's a me power and leave it at that."

"But you can't be here, Dean," said Castiel, opening his eyes. "You can't alter the memories of someone. It could destroy the mind. You could drive them to insanity."

"There's a reason why you're not bounding with joy at seeing me, angel. You're only able to partly acknowledge me. Your memories will be as they were. When I leave, you'll simply reflect them on a little differently," said Dean, drawing close. "At least...that's what I hope. At most you should feel my toasty warm presence."

"Reflect on them...?" Castiel began to drop his hand and Dean caught it, pulled Castiel close, pressing his cold hand to his heart.

Castiel felt colder than usual. He looked around him and the memory started to fade, obscuring the view of the gravestones, of the gravekeeper, of the graveyard as a whole. Blurring it like someone had placed a glass over the entire scene and unfocusing the images tenfold. Black thorns began to grow out of the ground, surrounding the two of them. They simmered with life, beating like it had a heart. Afraid, Castiel drew closer to Dean. The black thorns were the most focal point of the entire landscape.

"What are they?"

"Pain," Dean replied.

Castiel looked at him. "Pain...Whose...?"

"Yours,"

"Mine," said Castiel softly. He closed his eyes as though in acceptance. "Yes. Thinking of you brings me great pain."

Dean opened his mouth and closed it, torn anguish crossing his face. And yet he took it as a good sign that Castiel hadn't let go of him. But his grip had weakened, slipping out of his hand. Castiel leaned into him and sighed. The black thorns continued to grow around them until it shadowed both of them and Dean felt Castiel fade away just as easily as Balthazar had.

He was in another memory.

A very unfamiliar house. Broken glass and possessions thrown everywhere, an upturned couch and broken TV near the door. The ceiling fan twisted and hanging by its wires. Blood was in various places, but not where it could be a bloodbath. It was predominantly on the black figure standing in the middle of the destroyed dining room. He held a body by its hair, a sword clutched in his other hand. A woman of middle age with grey hair wearing a frilly dress and an apron. Blood splatter all over her, cuts all over her. She was already dead. She had been for some time.

Castiel's knuckles flashed red and the body turned into a charred black skeleton. A sharp gust of wind swept through the house at his show of power, disintegrating the rest of her. There was already dried blood on Castiel's black attire. He had killed before this woman.

Castiel began to wipe the blood clean with the folds of his jacket.

Now the black thorns were there again, but the scene didn't fade like before. Everywhere around Castiel like a second skin. They simply adapted, carried with Castiel wherever he went, invisible to anyone else but perhaps to him. Dean didn't have to watch them sprout from the ground either. Castiel's wings were bleeding and the blood produced these thorns.

"So much pain, angel." Dean seemed to speak to himself. "Thinking of me causes you pain. Is that why you followed Dante? Because you had no other choice?"

Castiel did not look up to answer Dean. He continued wiping his sword clean of residual blood. "Dante provided a solution. He was my only option. No one else would help me. No one else cared."

"Carmen? Gabriel? These people you could have sought. Why take his side? Look what he's done to you,"

Castiel paused on polishing the blade, his hand trembling just slightly. Unlike the previous memory, Castiel didn't really acknowledge Dean much at all except when answering. And he was only answering based on what the then Castiel knew. "Gabriel went missing shortly after Dean died. Carmen was captured. I thought she was dead. I learned later that she had escaped from Crowley's prison and taken Dean's sword with her. But by then, it was too late. I didn't want her to get involved, but she is involved now...But everything seems to be working out accordingly. Dante says he has a plan, and I believe him."

"You know the cost of this plan, don't you?" Dean asked. His eyes went to a picture on the floor that had the woman Castiel had murdered, an unfamiliar man with black hair and glasses and Sam at perhaps age fourteen or fifteen. His smile was forced, but his parents looked pleased, both hands on Sam's shoulders, smiling brightly at the camera. Behind them was a large Christmas tree with towering presents.

Castiel had killed his parents.

"Yes,"

"Angel. From the moment I met you, you were always talking about your superior officers. Your duty. What you had to do. What was law. You never wanted to go against that," Dean noted in a solemn tone. "No matter what I said. No matter how much I begged you. It took the death of a lot of people to convince you that the path you were on was wrong...but I never held it against you. I admired you for it. I admired your loyalty and your allegiance to your fellow Celestial."

"I know," said Castiel. An empty voice.

"You disobeyed command. You went down into Hell that first time, stood by my side and faced off against my Father with me. I knew then, that you, who had cause to die for Heaven your whole life, would have died for me then. Maybe when I did...you did too. Because when I watched Lucifer hold his blade to your throat. I took the leap. I jumped across the portal to the ninth circle...and I dragged him down into its depths with me," Dean walked slowly towards him until he was directly behind him.

"You left me," Castiel whispered.

"You think that?" Dean wrapped his arms around him, hugging him close from behind and resting his chin on his shoulder. "You think I ever left you? Why would I do that, angel? Don't you know by now? Haven't you known since the beginning?"

"What..? I don't..."

"I'd rather have died then watched you die. I'd rather spend ten thousand more years in Treachery wallowing in the sins of mine and others than live to let you die."

He flattened his palm against Castiel's chest. "Do you feel this?"

"I feel...I feel nothing," Castiel exhaled, and it was such a tragic sound. "I don't...I don't feel anything...I stopped feeling."

"Why?"

Castiel's voice dripped with sorrow. "I had to. The emotional weight of losing Dean was unbearable. The pain of thinking I'd probably never see him again. I'd roam the dead realms looking...calling his name. But he'd never answer me. He'd be...only a memory."

Dean's hand curled into a fist and for just a moment he let himself rest against Castiel's back. There was a faint rustle around them. Rather than heal like he expected his touch to have done, his action seemed to have caused the black thorns to thicken around them to the point where the large black branches were inches away from cutting into Dean's flesh. Yet Castiel closed his eyes and tilted his head downward.

Dean sighed with much exaggeration, pulling away from Castiel just as the Fallen began to dissolve in his grip. "Well. I guess third time's a charm."

Everything shifted around Dean into a very white room. But it was blurry like before. Nothing was in focus. Castiel had his back to Dean. Again looking like a Fallen with bleeding wings. No thick thorns this time. It was the only sound Dean could hear. The steady drip of his wings as they created puddles underneath him.

"You're the one I sensed inside my mind," said Castiel. His voice wasn't friendly.

"Oh wow, I'm all heartbroken here. Don't you remember me, angel? I'm Dea-"

"I know who you are," Same tone.

"This isn't a memory, angel,"said Dean. " I'm speaking to you. But you regard me this way, still..Dante's...an asshole."

"Dante saved my life. More than once. Dante helped me get into the ninth circle. Without him, I'd be nothing. I'd be dirt. I'd never have gotten this far-"

He broke off when Dean pressed a finger to his mouth, frowning. "You sound like a broken record. Your thoughts are on a loop. But you can't focus on the single answer. The question you've been asked since you emerged looking this way. I'm sure Carmen asked you. I'm sure Sam did before he was killed. Balthazar probably did too. 'Why are you doing this?' 'Why would you do this?' 'Why are you here?' Maybe they've tossed you off as something evil. But Sam won't. He cares for you, and he will for the rest of his life. And...me...well...I can just show you."

Dean leaned close and Castiel felt the heat of his breath on his lips. He gripped Castiel's hair and pulled his face close, bearing down upon him with smoldering green eyes that consumed his world.

"I can't...," Castiel murmured, looking down again so Dean lost sight of his eyes. "I can't...go back on what I've done...Sam's parents...Sam. People I've killed...to get here...I can't take them back. I can't bring them back. I can't change what I've become."

Dean cupped his cheek. "Shh...Angel...Don't you know? I really don't have to say it, do I?"

Dean bent down to press his lips very gently to Castiel's. The moment they made contact, the white from around them turned brighter and brighter until it was blinding. But Dean closed his eyes, held on to Castiel with all of his strength. He wasn't going to let him fade this time. The light felt so warm and nice and just by the sigh of ecstasy that Castiel released into his mouth, he knew he felt the warmth too.

They were fading together, and Dean didn't really mind that. He wasn't forced out of Castiel's mind as one might have expected. Instead he eased out very gently.

And they were back in the trench.

Castiel was kneeling in front of him and Dean had come down on one knee too. Castiel could only see his shoes. It felt like hours had passed, but perhaps only minutes. His throat felt dry. But his eyes were wet and fresh tears poured out of them.

Dean moved to stand and Castiel reached out, hooked his fingers around the hole in Dean's jacket where he had closed the button on his wrist. He pulled him, almost yanked him.

"I know, Dean," Castiel said, his voice breaking on Dean's name. He peered up at him, watched Dean sink down in front of him again so they were eye level. There was no light in this realm. He knew enough about it to understand that more than anyone else. No light in Hell. But Dean seemed to glow in that moment. He looked like an angel. "I know."

"What?" Dean's voice was so gentle, so soothing. It took a minute to wonder if this was truly a dream.

"The answer to your question," Castiel took a deep breath and began to smile. "I came back...For you. It was all for you."

He saw Dean's smile flash before Dean grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him close for a kiss, gentle but hardly restrained. He pulled Castiel into his body in a tight hold, getting back to his feet and lifting Castiel almost a foot off the ground.

"If I have to die a thousand more times and condemn myself to an eternity in this realm to attest to it, I will...I don't care. As long as you're with me," said Dean, looking up into those clear blue eyes. Always so incandescently beautiful to Dean. "In a place where time doesn't matter. Where the shadows walk. I don't care...Home is where you are."

Castiel held on to him with enough strength that he thought Dean could break apart in his arms. His voice broke in sadness. " I looked for you...I looked everywhere for you."

"I'm here," Dean pressed his lips to Castiel's neck. "I'm here."

Dean pushed Castiel against the wall, keeping him lifted. Castiel laughed as Dean began to plant butterfly kisses along his neck. He reached up, fingers curling in Dean's hair as the demon expelled a heated breath into his collar. Castiel couldn't help the groan that escaped his lips.

"That's a nice sound," said Dean, pulling away.

"Any other time, I wouldn't ask you to stop," Castiel smiled. "But there are a few things we probably need to address."

Dean growled a feral sound and snapped back to Castiel's neck, nose brushing along the side of Castiel's Adam's apple. His hands caught Castiel's wrists, pinning them to the solid surface on either side. "Blah blah blah, business. No one cares."

"Dean," said Castiel disapprovingly.

"You're Fallen now, angel. You better start acting like it or I'm going to have to teach you a few things," Dean traced down from Castiel's neck to his chest where he bit down on Castiel's shirt, preparing to rip it down the middle. With that hungry, excited gleam in his green eyes, Castiel didn't doubt he would.

But he effortlessly broke Dean's hold on him and took a handful of the demon's hair, pulling him back to look at him. "I'm a Fallen. I know how to act like one. More than you know."

The bit of shirt snapped off Dean's teeth as he rose. His expression went from primal to menacing in an instant. "Oh, really? Looks like I've been invading all the wrong memories. With who? Was it Dante? Fucking cockblock. I'm going to punch his dick off."

Castiel's eyes widened and then he raised an eyebrow. "You're going to punch it off."

"Punch his fucking cock OFF!" Dean roared. "It'll be a sack and a nub."

"You have a sword," Castiel pointed at it over his shoulder where it lay on the floor.

"Sometimes you use your fists," said Dean, and then he quirked both eyebrows at Castiel. "Know what I mean?"

"No. And I didn't mean that way. I didn't...with anyone," Castiel inhaled and looked all around them, anywhere but at Dean.

Dean was staring at him with strange affection. He pinched Castiel's cheek. "Look at you. You're...sounding just like your old self."

Castiel brushed his hand aside, finally looking at him. "I'm Fallen, Dean. That doesn't change. Whatever...Dante cast on me...it's gone. For now. But that doesn't change that I'm a Fallen...I'm...different than how you remember."

Dean looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, stepping back and seeming to examine Castiel head to toe with his eyes. He felt oddly scrutinized and self-conscious. But then Dean said, "You're wearing black and it's hot."

"It's more than wearing black," said Castiel impatiently. "I'm..Fallen, Dean...Aren't you...repulsed by it? You've been fighting them your whole life. More than you've been fighting Celestial."

"And they're all dead and we're all very sad," Dean faked a yawn. "What gives, angel? You're Fallen. So what? I'm a demon. We make for a fucked up pair. But that's always been the truth."

"It's more than that," Castiel insisted. "It's what we are...It matters. Our loyalties-"

"Our loyalties don't fucking matter," A flash of real anger went across Dean's face. He slammed a fist above Castiel's forehead and locked him against the wall again. "I went to war with the Fallen because they wanted to impeach me. Couldn't have that. Rule of thumb in Hell is when an asshole army wants to destroy you, you take them out first. And voila. Hail the conquering heroes. They're gone. If you're planning on raising an army against me sometime soon...gotta say, angel...I'm gonna be a little pissed."

"Yes, but you're not the conquering hero," said Castiel quietly. "Dante killed them. I watched him...It was..disturbing. He killed his own kind...and I can't even wonder why. It's like those memories with him are..hazy."

"Oh, don't you start that," said Dean irritably. "Bringing up the stuff we have to do. Yeah, we gotta kill him. We'll get to that. Just let me have this moment."

He pressed his body against Castiel's and he felt his heat stronger than ever. Dean hooked two fingers on Castiel's shirt again and pulled Castiel towards him, pressing a hard kiss to his lips. His tongue was fierce and dominating again as he slipped inside Castiel's mouth. The taste of Dean was delicious...Ten years was nothing. It was something he could never forget. The demon's burning scent overpowered all his other senses.

But he resisted. Because he had to.

Castiel broke the kiss. "We're in the middle of a forest in a hole in the ground. As much as I'd love to, Dean...and trust me...I would. But our enemies are waiting for us...in every corner of this realm. Dante's going to recover. And he will come back for you."

Dean growled, but he did take his weight off Castiel. His lips were swollen, redder than normal where Castiel must have unconsciously suckled.

"Fine. Balthazar was doing a perimeter check. Let's go check on him," Dean conceded, turning away to grab his sword and place it back underneath the back of his jacket. He gave Castiel a look of promise. "But if there's nothing going on. You and I...have a lot of catching up to do...and not the talking kind."