CHAPTER 15

By three days later, Cas was about halfway toward being back to normal.

"What does this mean for your grace?" Dean asked, looking over at Cas. This was one of the only chances to be alone that they'd gotten over the past few days – considering that Cas wasn't exactly up for the kinds of activities that would send Sam scurrying from the room, there hadn't been much of a reason not to share, and getting only one room cut the cost by a lot. Still, there were downsides, especially when Sam decided to plant himself at the table with his laptop and not move for hours. Today, though, he was at the library, and Dean and Cas were taking advantage of it.

Of course, "taking advantage of it" just meant that they were stretched out on the bed together, both of them leaning back against the headboard, arms around each other's waists. Cas still wasn't ready for the kinds of things that they'd prefer to be doing, but this was nice, too. Really nice, actually. And the fact that Sam wasn't around to make fun of Dean for acting so cheesy was definitely a bonus.

Cas looked puzzled for a moment, then finally shrugged. Then he winced, since apparently any kind of movement still pulled at his wound, even though it was halfway healed already. Dean rubbed his hand up Cas' arm, trying to be comforting (which was not a sappy thing to do, alright?) Cas' lips twitched into a smile for just a moment, then his face returned to its serious expression as he said, "I'm not sure. If my grace had been at full power, the wound would heal itself instantly, and I would not even feel the pain of it. The fact that I feel pain, and am healing at a much slower rate… I'm not sure what it means."

Dean frowned. "You speaking from experience?" he asked. That made Cas tilt his head more, obviously not getting what Dean meant, so Dean clarified, "When you said that you wouldn't feel it if you were shot when you were at full power. That something that happened before?"

Cas' face cleared, and he nodded. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I am speaking from experience."

"What happened?" Dean asked.

"World Was Two," Cas said, tilting his head and thinking about on it. "I was not the only angel to come to Earth for that war – nor was it the first war that I had fought in. Heaven often added warriors to the larger battles, particularly when the outcome was as important as that was." He frowned. "I do not know when things changed, and the angels began planning on allowing the decimation of the humans that we have always been charged with protecting."

Cas paused then, like he was waiting for Dean to come out with the answer this. Dean didn't have a clue either, though, so he didn't say a word.

"Jimmy's grandfather was a soldier in the war," Cas continued after a moment. "A… companion and I came to Earth during every battle, to intervene for the Allies. I was the obvious choice, since I had a vessel among the ranks already, and my companion insisted on serving with me, though his abilities were limited, since he lacked a vessel."

Dean nodded, though by now, he wasn't as much attention. Something else had caught his thoughts.

Cas' eyes were distant now, like he was lost in his memories. "I only took his body a few times, but he prayed to me often – he credited me with saving his life. As far as I know, he never told anyone about the fact that he hadn't been himself during the worst of the battles, but he prayed to me until the moment he died." Cas paused, then added slowly, "He passed this belief onto his grandson as well. Jimmy never prayed to me, but I'm aware that he prayed. And I hate to think what the man I possessed would think if he had seen what became of his son. Even if it wasn't my fault." The last part was tacked on to the end, almost like he was adding it for Dean's benefit more than he believed it himself. And Dean was going to say something about that, but then Cas suddenly asked, "Are you okay?"

Dean started at the question. He hadn't even realized that he had been frowning down at his lap until Cas had said something, and now he quickly looked up. "Nothing," he said.

That only made Cas' concern grow stronger, and he squinted his eyes, watching Dean closely. "You don't like it when I speak of being shot? Or when I speak of Jimmy?"

Well, there was that, too, though Dean wasn't going to get worked up about the shooting thing. Hell, he had plenty of shooting stories that he could tell Cas, and all of his were much less pleasant, considering that he actually felt the pain whenever he got hurt. So no, that wasn't the main reason. Neither was the talk about Jimmy, as much as he didn't like to think about it.

"It's nothing," Dean repeated, but Cas was still staring at him and waiting for an answer, so finally, Dean said, "I guess it's just sinking in, how much stuff you've lived through."

Cas, though, shook his head.

"I have experienced much," he said slowly, "but existing as an angel is far different than living as an human. Being human… the world suddenly changes into something new. It's far more painful, of course, but also more… colorful, somehow."

Dean's mouth felt dry, and he swallowed hard. "You mean that?"

"Yes," Cas said. "Why wouldn't I?"

Dean shrugged. "Don't know," he said, even though he actually had a pretty good idea. And he wasn't really planning on saying anything more, but then he couldn't stop himself from asking, "Do you think your powers will ever come back completely? Like, will you even be a full angel again?"

Cas was silent for a long minute before answering, like he was giving the question a whole lot of thought. "I don't know," he finally said. "Perhaps they will someday. I hope that they do."

Dean swallowed again, and nodded.

"You look upset again," Cas said.

That was something else that Dean didn't know how to respond to, so he just gave another shrug.

"You don't want me to be an angel?" Cas asked, after another moment of confused silence.

"What?' Dean asked, then quickly shook his head. "No, of course not. We already covered that when you first got your mojo back, remember?" Cas nodded, acknowledging that, but he still looked worried, so Dean tried to think of something else he could add. "I mean, okay," he finally admitted, "it was weird at first. But then, what the hell in my life isn't?" He snorted. "I should've known that I couldn't just end up with a normal guy."

"You didn't," Cas pointed out. "Even before you realized that I wasn't human, you had begun a relationship with a man with no memories and a fake name." He thought for another moment, then added, "And even before you knew about that, you had begun a relationship with a man with no family or friends, who had lived on the street and did not understand many basic aspects of human behavior."

Dean rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but smile. "Okay, you got me there," he said. "Guess I was always destined to fall in love with some real weirdo. Actually, now that I think about it, dating an angel is probably pretty tame when you consider some of the stuff I could get up to."

He'd expected that to get a smile from Cas, or an eye roll, or at least some kind of reaction. Instead, Cas was just staring at him, looking downright shocked.

"What?" Dean finally said, after a minute passed without Cas even blinking, he swore, and even though he was used to this sort of thing, it was still starting to get a little creepy.

Even after Dean said something, it was another few moments before Cas collected himself enough to answer.

"I don't know the social protocol for this," he finally said, "but I assume that it's okay to say that I love you, too?"

Dean's eyes widened, and he quickly shook his head. "Fuck, I didn't-" he immediately started protesting, out of pure habit more than anything else. Then he paused, and actually let Cas' words sink in. "Wait, seriously?"

Cas frowned, though he looked more confused than anything else. "I would not lie about something so important," he said, completely serious. "You know that, don't you?"

"Well, yeah," Dean said. And it wasn't like he thought that Cas was lying, exactly. It was just… "Seriously?"

This time, Cas just nodded, though his frown had deepened.

"Huh," Dean said. "Well, how about that."

Cas studied Dean's face for a moment, his eyes narrowing and forehead furrowing, doing all of the typical things that he did whenever he was confused about something. Except this time, Dean could tell the exact moment that Cas understood.

"You don't believe me," Cas said slowly. "You know that I am not lying, and you still don't believe me. I don't understand."

Dean shook his head, because this sounded exactly like the kind of subject that they didn't need to be getting into. "It's nothing."

"No," Cas said firmly. "Tell me. Explain, please."

"It's nothing," Dean repeated, more insistently this time. "It's just that you're-"

"I'm what?" Cas asked.

"It's just that you're a friggin' angel, alright?" Dean finally said, and shook his head, turning away.

"We've established that," Cas said, and it was still so obvious that the guy didn't get it. "I fail to see the issue."

"It's just, you're an angel," Dean said, because apparently he couldn't think of anything more coherent than that. "That's got to be a much bigger deal than being a human. Not sure what you're getting out of this arrangement."

He could understand it when they were both humans – he knew he was a good looking guy, and he could even see why the guy might like his personality, even if Dean was pretty sure he spent half the time sounding like an ass. (He was a charming ass, though, at the very least.) It made more sense when you factored in that this was a guy with no memories and nowhere to go – so he was clinging to Dean and Sam, since he didn't have anyone else, and he just happened to be clinging to Dean a little bit harder, and in some much-more-fun ways. Dean got that. Hell, he could even see why Cas would stick around after he'd gotten his grace back. They had work to do, and Cas was powered down enough that he needed all the help he could get. Plus, you know, the sex was awesome. Dean figured that even an angel would want to keep that up.

Being in love, though? That was a whole other ballgame, one that Dean hadn't exactly counted on ever playing, and especially not after he'd found out that Cas was some immortal being who had probably been around for the creation of the universe, and had definitely had millions of years to meet humans – no way Dean could be that special. And sure, maybe he'd known that he was in love with Cas for a while. He'd figured that one out pretty much the exact same second that he'd burst into that barn and found Cas bleeding but somehow still alive. He hadn't thought about it, though. And for fuck's sake, he hadn't planned on saying it out loud.

"For the moment, I am very close to human," Cas said slowly, glancing down at himself.

Dean nodded. Right. Yeah, that explained it, at least. "And let's say you get your powers back," he said. "What then?"

Cas was silent for a long moment before he finally answered. "I find it unlikely that my grace will ever heal completely," he said. "But even if it did, I don't think that I could ever return to truly being an angel – not in the way that I was before, at least. I see the world differently now. I could regain my powers and regrow my wings, and I still believe that I would consider myself human."

That… was a different answer than he'd been expecting, actually.

"Okay," Dean said after a moment, and cleared his throat. "But what are you actually going to do?"

"I don't follow," Cas said. "I don't see the point in making plans for an event that may never occur."

"Just humor me, dude," Dean said, shaking his head.

Cas still looked confused, but he finally nodded. "Give me a moment," he said, and then went silent. Dean sat there for a minute, fidgeting, and he was half tempted to snap at Cas to just hurry up and say something. The only reason he didn't was because he could tell that Cas was considering what to say next – like, really considering it, like it was the most important question he'd ever been asked.

And, well, Dean kinda wanted to hear the answer.

"We would not have to drive anywhere," was what Cas ended up saying first. His forehead was still scrunched up, and he was staring at Dean like every word out of his mouth was the most important thing he'd ever said. "Of course, I'm sure that you would find that distasteful, but Sam would be happy during the longer trips, and it would allow us to move much faster." He paused then, just for a moment, then continued, "And Azazel would be far easier to deal with. I have never seen him, so I do not know for sure, but there is a good chance that he would be too strong for me to simply smite with my powers. The hellhounds that come for you, though – I would be able to kill them with a snap of my fingers, and you will never have to worry about them taking your soul. Then I would transport to Azazel's side, and stab him before he knew of my presence, and his death would mean that you would once again have your soul."

Dean was staring at Cas now, and he was fairly certain that his mouth was open, as stupid as that was. Not that Cas seemed to notice. He still looked like he was locked in his own world, thinking hard about what would come next.

"Even with Azazel dead, there would still be problems that needed to be dealt with," he said. "There is Naomi, of course, and the rest of Azazel's followers. Not to mention that there are all sorts of monsters and ghosts that we have to take care of. But hunting would be far easier if I could speak to someone and be able to tell from their soul whether they were telling the truth. And I wouldn't worry about your safety, or about Sam's, if I knew that I could simply touch you and your injuries would heal."

Cas nodded then, looking proud of himself all of a sudden, and Dean could tell that he was done talking, and that he liked what he'd just said. Dean, though, could just keep staring, and didn't think he'd be able to stop any time soon.

"Seriously?" Dean asked, after another few seconds had passed. "That's what you picture when you think about your powers coming back?"

Cas tilted his head, looking confused. "What else would I do?"

Dean shrugged, and shook his head again. "You're an angel, man," he said, and he knew that Cas still didn't get why he kept repeating that, but he couldn't stop saying it, anyway. "I figured you'd be off to Heaven, or wherever else angels go, to do… whatever the hell angels do when they've got their wings." He waved a hand, knowing that he probably sounded frickin' stupid, but he didn't care so much about the wording right then.

"I would not be allowed back into Heaven, even if it was possible for me to return," Cas said. "I would be killed instantly." Dean nodded, and had just enough time to feel disappointed, before Cas said, "But even if returning to Heaven was an option, I would prefer to stay on Earth with you and your brother." Cas stopped, then frowned. "If I can, I mean," he said, his voice much lower, suddenly not sounding as certain, almost like he was the one who had reason to be worried.

"'Course you can," Dean said. The idea that he or Sam were ever going to kick Cas to the curb was ridiculous. "But why would you want to?"

Cas had relaxed when he'd heard Dean's answer, and began to smile. Now, though, he stiffened again, and the frown slid back into place. "I don't understand."

"You can go anywhere, do anything," Dean insisted, spreading his hands in some vague gesture. "Or, okay, maybe you don't have a whole lot of options right now," he admitted after a moment. "You're kinda stuck here whether you want to be or not. But let's say your wings grow back, or whatever. Then you actually could do anything – hell, you could probably go places I can't even imagine. Why stick around?"

Cas didn't have to think this time. He didn't even hesitate. "Because you're my family."

Dean shook his head. "You don't have to stick around just because you think you have to, though."

"That's not what I'm doing," Cas said, then slowly sat up and turned himself to face Dean. He was obviously being careful, but Dean still saw him wince, like just moving was hurting him.

"Whoa, you should keep still, you're still recovering," Dean protested, but Cas was already on his knees facing Dean, arms raised to cup Dean's face with both hands. He leaned forward, stopping when their faces were only inches apart.

"Dean," he said, voice low, and completely serious. "I rebelled for you. Everything I have done, it was for you. Admittedly, saving your life had more to do with righting an injustice than with any personal feelings toward you, but it doesn't change the fact that I gave up everything for you." He paused, staring hard into Dean's eyes, then said, "And I will always make the same choice, if given the chance to do so again. Now, though, one thing has changed. Now, when I say that I would surrender my grace again in an instant in order to protect you, I'm not doing it just because it is the right thing to do. I would do it because I love you, and will not allow you to be harmed."

Dean sat there, trying to figure out what to even say back to that. Then he thought, Screw it, and grabbed Cas to kiss him.

"I take it that my explanation was sufficient, then?" Cas said.

Dean cleared his throat, and nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I'd say that that was… sufficient."

Cas smiled. "I meant what I said completely," he said, looking like he just had to be sure that Dean understood. "I'm in love with you."

Dean smiled back. "Right back at ya," he said. And, well, he probably should have gone with something a lot more deep and meaningful and all that shit, especially considering how Cas had just given him a whole freakin' speech. But honestly, it was hard enough just saying this out loud. He didn't think he had it in him for the cheesy stuff.

Judging by the way that Cas was smiling, though, he didn't exactly have a problem with it.

"Now come on," Dean said, moving his hands to Cas' shoulders and gently helping him lean back against the bed frame again. "You should be resting some more. Seriously, man, you just got shot."

"And I have recovered," Cas countered, though he did go back to reclining against the frame, just like Dean wanted. The movement made him grimace, and he amended, "Mostly recovered. Recovered enough that I don't need to be lying around every moment." He reached up and hooked his fingers under the collar of Dean's shirt. "I can think of other activities that we should be doing."

"Dude," Dean said, and pulled back slightly, even though that was definitely the last thing that he wanted to be doing at the exact moment. "You're still recovering, remember?"

"We will be careful," Cas said. "We won't do anything too strenuous." Then he leaned forward to kiss Dean again, and really, how was he supposed to argue with that?"

"That's definitely an unfair way to win an argument," Dean murmured, breaking the kiss just long enough to grin at Cas.

Cas tilted his head. "Are you complaining?"

Dean grinned wider, and shook his head. "Definitely not." And to prove it, he was the one who leaned forward to kiss Cas this time.

Oh, yeah, Sam was definitely going to be glad that he had chosen today to not hang around the motel room. Then Dean pushed all of those thoughts away, since the last thing he wanted to do right then was think about his brother. Instead, he turned all of his attention toward focusing on Cas, his kinda-an-angel boyfriend who was apparently in love with him, and Dean was still having a hard time believing it.

He wasn't going to let himself question it, though. Not right now, at least.

For now, he was just going to enjoy it.

Cas insisted that he was tired of being stuck in the motel room, and Dean had to admit that he had a point – Dean would be crawling up the walls if he spent three straight days in one room.

And anyway, he really was healing up pretty well, which was why they all ended up loading into the Impala and heading down to the nearest diner, instead of eating takeout in the motel for the millionth time in a row.

The place was greasy to the extreme, and smelled like bacon even though breakfast had been over for hours, which meant that Dean pretty much considered it to be the best restaurant ever. He expected Sam to disagree, but he didn't even make any snide comments about the number of heart attacks that this place had to be causing.

Which… was actually pretty worrying, to be honest. Come to think of it, Sam had been quiet during the ride over here, too. Which probably meant that he'd found something during his little library trip, and Dean was not looking forward to hearing what it was.

He didn't get the chance to ask, though, because they'd barely been in the dinner for five seconds before a girl with bubblegum pink hair and a nametag reading HOLLY! practically dragged them to a booth in the corner of the room.

"Here you go," she chirped, popping menus into each of their hands. "I'll be back in just a minute to take your order." Then she skipped off, probably to go pounce on some other unsuspecting diners.

It didn't take Dean long to figure out what he wanted – there was something called a bacon deluxe chili cheeseburger on the menu, which pretty much made his decision for him. Sam and Cas took longer, mostly because Cas was questioning Sam on every item on the menu, trying to figure out which was the healthiest. He'd been on a super health kick ever since his grace had come back, which made sense, Dean guessed, since he said that all foods tasted disgusting to him now, so he didn't have any reason to not take care of his vessel. Though Dean was pretty sure that Cas still had a fondness for hamburgers above anything else.

Dean took a moment just to watch the two of them. And yup, Sam definitely had some terrible discovery to share, that was just wonderful. Cas hadn't seemed to notice Sam's stiff expression, though. He was too busy leaning forward to squint at the menu, studying it like it was some ancient code, one finger tracing the page as he moved from item to item. They'd finally gotten around to buying themselves whole new wardrobes over the break, which had included yet another new trench coat for Cas, since the guy couldn't seem to make it through one case without it getting destroyed somehow. This one was a different brand than the other two had been, and was just a tiny bit too big on him, meaning that the sleeves kept falling over to cover his fingertips as he traced the menu items. It was frickin' adorable, honestly, and it made Dean wonder how he'd ever gotten this guy to fall in love with him.

And god, he was thinking of it again. He felt pathetic, like a teenager with his first boyfriend, talking about how he just couldn't get him out of his head! He couldn't help it, though. His mind just kept circling around to him.

Cas was in love with him.

It was weird, honestly. But nice.

Definitely nice.

And Dean needed to shut down and stop thinking before he embarrassed himself even more than he already had. He just hoped that there were no mind readers around to know how lame he was being.

He had just finished thinking that when suddenly there was a girl sitting in the seat next to Sam. All of them jumped – or, Dean and Sam jumped, actually. Cas just blinked, like he was mildly surprised by the woman who'd just randomly decided to appear in their midst.

After Dean calmed down a bit and took a breath, he realized that it was Hester. He almost didn't recognize her now that she was just sitting there and not throwing Cas into any cars. Maybe that'd explain why Cas looked so calm, though – he was probably used to this angel shit.

"What are you doing here?" Dean demanded, leaning forward, sticking his hand into the inside of his jacket to close his fist around the handle of the angel blade. He wasn't going to draw it in the middle of a crowded restaurant, not yet, but if that bitch tried anything-

Hester blinked, and if she noticed Dean's angry tone, she didn't comment. "I'm here to help you."

"Help?" Dean demanded. "And where exactly were you and your help at a few days ago, huh?"

"I was in Heaven," Hester said, then frowned. "I'm sorry, I heard your prayers-"

"Wait," Sam said, before she could say anything more, and turned sharply toward Dean. "You prayed?"

Dean scowled. "Shut up," he grumbled, then shook his head and turned back to Hester. "And what, Cas bleeding out wasn't important enough for you to fly your ass in and help us?"

"I was more concerned with not leading Naomi to your location," Hester said, looking at Dean with narrowed eyes. "She has begun to suspect me. I thought that leading her off track would be more important than fixing Castiel immediately."

And, okay, Dean couldn't exactly argue with that. Didn't mean that he wasn't still pissed as fuck, though.

Cas, though, had other concerns. "Are you certain that you evaded them?" he asked, leaning forward. "None of them could have followed you in secret?"

"They did not," Hester said simply, then stood and leaned forward to stretch her arm across the table, awkwardly pressing her hand against Cas' stomach. Dean immediately drew the angel blade, ready to slam it into her arm before she could do a thing to Cas – here to help them or not, no way did he trust her.

The moment her hand touched him, though, Cas straightened, the last of the pain disappearing from his eyes. He nodded once. "Thank you."

Hester nodded back, and returned to her seat. "It is the least I can do."

Dean quickly stuck the blade back into his jacket, and glanced around to make sure that nobody had noticed.

"So then, I take it you're on our side?" Sam asked, glancing back and forth between Cas and Hester.

"I am," she said. "It was impossible for me not to join, after I'd seen for myself that Castiel had been telling the truth."

"What has Heaven been like since I have been gone?" Cas asked immediately, and Dean could hear in his voice how worried he was.

Hester pressed her lips together. Whatever he answer was going to be, it definitely wasn't a happy one.

"Chaos," she said. "At least on my part."

Then of course, happy waitress Holly chose that exact moment to bounce back over to their table. "Have you decided what-" she started to ask, then broke off, staring at Hester in confusion.

"Our friend slipped in to join us," Sam said quickly, before the girl could start asking questions.

"Oh," Holly said, glancing back toward the door. "But I was watching… I'm sorry, I didn't see you come in. Hang on, I can grab you a menu."

"I don't eat," Hester said, her voice flat, without any emotions. Dean half wondered if she was doing it on purpose. He'd heard her sound pissy and upset and worried before, so he knew she had it in her. Meaning that he was pretty sure that she was just sounding emotionless now to freak someone out or piss Dean off, one of the two.

"I'll have the number three with coffee, please," Sam said quickly. The waitress was still staring at Hester, but she quickly shook her head and scrambled to write that down. Dean and Cas placed their orders quickly – Cas did end up getting a hamburger instead of some salad thing, Dean had freakin' called it – and she hurried off toward the kitchens.

"It's not nice to confuse the humans," Cas said, narrowing her eyes at Hester.

Hester just stared. "What did I do?"

Okay, so maybe she was just completely clueless, with some weird, freaky, emotionless voice as her default. Good to know.

Instead of bothering to explain, Cas just shook his head and said, "Tell us more about the Heaven situation." Dean recognized as the same thing that he'd done to Cas a few times, figuring that whatever it was that Cas didn't understand this time wasn't important enough to waste time going on about. It was weird having Cas be the one to do it, though.

Hester frowned, but didn't complain about the subject change. Instead, she said, "Naomi has been denying the fact that you are still alive, and still maintains that you were slain for your crimes months ago, immediately after you first saved Dean Winchester. I have been trying to convince people otherwise, but for the most part, they don't believe me." Her frown deepened, and after a moment, she added, "I have had to be careful about who I tell, though. Naomi has some of her most trusted angels searching for you as I speak, and if they find you, they will destroy you on sight. She isn't going to give you another chance to escape her."

Cas looked worried, but not surprised. "Yes, I know," he said, then slid his hand so that it was pressed flat against his stomach, right above his tattoo. "She will not find us," he promised, though it looked like he was speaking more toward Dean and Sam than to Hester now.

"So, what exactly does all of this mean?" Sam asked, and his voice was hesitant – wasn't that cute, Sam was nervous about talking to the angel – but he didn't flinch or look away when she turned towards him, so, you know, good on him. "You're trying to, what? Put Naomi out of power?"

"I am not doing anything yet," Hester said, her voice clipped and precise, "beyond doing my best to sway the angels that I can to my side. But if you want to know about my eventual plans, then I would say that this would lead to a full-scale revolution, to take Naomi and the archangels out of power, and to ensure that the angels never again choose to lower themselves to the demons' level."

A silence fell over the table at her words, like none of them knew exactly what they were supposed to do to follow a grand pronouncement like that – say what you wanted about this angel, but she definitely had a flair for the dramatic. Then Cas asked, "What have you been doing so far? Who is on your side?"

Hester's frown was back now – okay, that wasn't encouraging – but she answered, "I have spoken with Inias. He has taken over as the leader of your old garrison. If he joins me, then all of his – of your – angels will as well. He, like the other angels that I have spoken with, does not seem to be certain of what he should do, or whether he can believe the things that I have told him."

"So, basically, you haven't convinced anyone," Dean said.

"No," Hester confirmed, though she didn't sound upset about it, or even a little discouraged. "But the angels are thinking."

Okay, there was obviously some emphasis on that last word. Dean waited for a minute – well, maybe more like ten seconds – expecting that she was going to explain that, but she didn't. Finally, Dean got tired of waiting, and decided to just hurry up and ask. "So? It's just thinking, for crying out loud. It's not like happy thoughts about the revolution is actually going to make it happen."

Cas, though, was shaking his head before the words were even fully out of Dean's mouth. "You don't understand, Dean," he said, and his voice was low, almost reverent. "Angels were not created for individual thought. We were created to follow orders, and that is what we have always done." He paused for a moment, then said, "Either that, or Naomi has rewritten the angels' minds enough to make them incapable of individual thought. I no longer know which it is, but it doesn't matter. The idea that angels might actually decide to turn against what they have been told to do? It's extraordinary."

Dean just stared at him, frowning. "You've always been thinking on your own," he said. "You didn't even need someone to force you into deciding stuff."

"Well, yes," Cas said, and Dean swore he saw just a tiny bit of pride in Cas' expression as he added, "I was an exception."

"Right," Dean said slowly, then turned toward Hester, "So, they're thinking. Good?"

"Good," Hester confirmed with a nod. "If the angels are thinking, then that means that we stand a chance of swaying them to our side. Already, I believe that some are considering the possibility. All that we need is some final gesture to bring them to our side, and then we will be able to stand against Naomi." She smiled in a way that made her look more fierce than happy, then returned her gaze to Cas. "Most recently, I have been speaking with Balthazar."

Balthazar. Dean was sure that he had heard that name before, he just wasn't sure where. The change in Cas was instant, though. He stiffened, something like hope or nervousness or worry crossing his face in about a split second, way too fast for Dean to see what it was before Cas had already smoothed his expression out again. And suddenly, Dean remembered exactly where that name had come from. Back when he'd been being tortured by that witch, weeks ago, before Cas had gotten his memories back, he'd made up a story about having family who would come track them down. Balthazar had been the name that he had used for his brother. And then Cas had said that he didn't actually know anything about that name, and refused to talk more, but Dean had known that something was going on.

Now, he was pretty sure that he had figured out what. Or, he thought that he had a vague idea, at least.

"I doubt that Balthazar would be interested in joining our revolution," Cas said. "He's not the type to get his hands dirty."

"He was also devastated when he heard the news of your supposed death," she said. "And is one of the only angels to believe me when I say that you still live. He will join us, in spirit if nowhere else."

Cas opened his mouth to say something else, then shut it, then frowned. "Thank you for telling me all of this," was what he finally said. "Please keep me informed as soon as you know more, or if you learn anything regarding the demon Azazel."

"I will," she promised, inclining her head slowly, the way that one would when talking to a king or a ruler or something, which instantly made Cas frown deeper and squirm uncomfortably. "It may be several days before I can speak to you again," she said as she lifted her head. "Naomi has begun to suspect me, as I said before. I do not know when or if I will be able to return."

Cas nodded. "I won't count on your return any time soon, then," he said, "but I will continue sending you prayers, then, so that you will be able to find us again. And you can send me messages through the wavelengths, if you stand the chance?"

Naomi frowned, and shook her head. "I don't think that I'll be able to do that," she said. "As far as I can tell, Naomi has cut you off. Allowing you to listen would be too much of a risk, and the last thing we want is for her to use them to track you down."

"Yes," Cas agreed immediately. "But you had allowed me to listen to the angels before, when I was human, didn't you? And Naomi never found me then. There must be a way to allow me to listen in without her knowing."

Dean thought that that was a fair point. It definitely made sense, at least. But apparently Hester didn't think that way, because she just frowned. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said. "I did nothing of the sort."

Cas opened his mouth, then closed it, looking utterly confused. "But then, why was I able to hear them?" he asked. "Something must have caused it."

"If you could hear the angels while still human, then yes, there must be a reason," Hester said, speaking slowly. It was clear that she didn't understand it any more than Cas did. "But I was not the cause. Actually, I had meant for you to be cut off from the angels completely, so that you would never again get involved, and the fact that you still lived wouldn't be revealed. I never would have allowed you to listen to the angels at all, had I known."

For a moment, none of them spoke, and it was obvious that all four of them were trying – and failing – to think of a solution. Then Hester cleared her throat, and said, "I must leave. There are many other matters to attend to. Whatever the answer to this mystery is, you must find it for yourself." She closed her eyes.

"Wait," Cas said suddenly, and Hester's expression turned puzzled, staring at him in confusion. Cas glanced around the restaurant, then said, "You can't just disappear from the middle of a crowded room," he said, and made a vague gesture toward where Holly was standing behind the register by the door as he added, "You're going to frighten the humans. You have to leave like a normal person would, then you can transport away when there's no one around to see you."

Hester still looked a little confused, but she inclined her head, and didn't argue. "Very well," she said, and stood.

Cas quickly stood as well. "I will see you off," he said, and led her toward the exit, with her trailing behind her like the lost puppy that Cas normally looked like. It was like a complete role reversal, and honestly, Dean was feeling kinda proud. His little Cassy was all grown up.

"So," Dean said, turning back toward Sam. "Angels, man."

"I think that having her on our side will be good," Sam said after a moment.

"Yeah," Dean said, and snorted. "Two and a half men trying to take on the leaders of Heaven? I think we at least need one real angel to back us up."

Sam grimaced, and from that, Dean could tell that he knew how bad the odds sounded. "We'll worry about this later," he finally said. "Right now, Azazel's got to be the main priority."

"One thing at a time, right?" Dean asked, and Sam nodded.

Dean glanced over to the side then, wondering where Cas was, and why it was taking him so long to walk Hester the twenty feet to the door. The doors were glass, so he could see that Cas and Hester were standing just outside the restaurant, looking like they were deep in conversation. It was something serious, at least judging by the look on Cas' face as Hester slowly shook her head.

And that reminded of something else that was serious, and he turned back to Sam. "You find anything at the library today?" he asked. "Because you've spent this whole time looking like someone kicked your puppy."

And yup, that kicked-puppy look was instantly back on his face, though honestly, he looked a lot more worried than upset. "Yeah, I found something," he said. "I'll tell you when Cas gets back."

Dean was going to protest against that – he'd never been that good with the whole "have patience" thing – but a glance at the door was enough to tell him that Cas and Hester were finishing up. Cas was frowning, but he nodded, then reached forward to clasp Hester on the shoulder. Hester returned the gesture, then immediately vanished into nothing – which, okay, that wasn't exactly inconspicuous, but at least she hadn't done it in the middle of the restaurant, so that was a little better?

Cas stood where he was for a few more seconds, staring straight ahead of him, not even moving an inch. Then he abruptly turned to stride back into the restaurant.

"What was that about?" Dean asked and Cas slid back into the booth beside him.

"Nothing important," Cas said shortly, in a voice that made it clear that they weren't allowed to ask any more. Then he seemed to realize how angry he'd sounded, because his face softened, and he shook his head. "I requested help with something, and she was unable to grant it. It does not have to be discussed in more detail."

Huh. That was weird, but Dean decided not to demand the details now – he could always do that later, after all. Instead, he immediately turned back to Sammy, and asked, "What did you find?"

Sam nodded, then took a deep breath. "Gordon is dead," he said. "He was murdered last night."

Dean blinked. Based on the buildup, he had expected something a whole lot bigger than that. Not that that wasn't surprising news – Dean definitely hadn't expected it – but, well…

"Is this important?" Cas asked slowly, echoing Dean's thoughts exactly. He frowned, then said, "I don't mean to be callous, but he did kidnap Dean, attempt to murder you, and shoot me with a gun that would have permanently destroy me had it been loaded with the proper bullet. I know that we are supposed to love all of God's creations, but in all honesty, I have a hard time feeling sorry about this loss."

"You and me both, buddy," Dean said, reaching over and squeezing Cas' hand under the table, then looking at Sam. "You want to explain why you're getting so worked up about this?"

Sam narrowed his eyes. "Because he was ripped apart by Hellhounds, from the sound of it, and he doesn't sound like the kind to sell her soul," he said. "And because Gordon's entire arsenal was found scattered around him, but the police can't tell if anything was stolen. It obviously wasn't a robbery – the police think that the murders were looking for something in particular." He paused, and when Dean and Cas still didn't say anything, he asked, "What did Gordon have in his possession that the demons would just love to get their hands on?"

Dean got it.

"Shit," he swore, at the same moment that Cas said, "The Colt."

"Exactly," Sam said grimly.

The three of them were silent for a minute. Then Cas cleared his throat. "We still have the last bullet in the safe, don't we?" he asked, looking to Sam for the answer. Sam nodded, and Cas continued, "The Colt will not be used against us unless they manage to take the bullet as well. We still don't have the Colt, but the situation hasn't changed at all."

"You're right," Dean said quickly, and squeezed Cas' hand again, harder this time. "You're right. Nothing's changed, really. We've still got the bullet and the angel blade. We can still do this."

Sam hesitated, then slowly nodded once, though he didn't look convinced. Dean didn't blame him. He hadn't convinced himself, either.

"We can do this," he repeated, just for good measure.

But it didn't change the fact that he could feel dread creeping over him, telling him that the three of them were completely, irrevocably screwed.

They spent the rest of the dinner talking strategy. By the time they were leaving, they'd even figured something. It wasn't exactly a good plan, but it was something, at least.

"You're positive that we shouldn't go investigate Gordon's death first?" Sam asked as he climbed into the Impala.

Dean shook his head. They'd been over this a couple times already, and Sam knew all the reasons why they'd decided against it. Dean could tell that he was nervous, though. He didn't want to go into this without knowing exactly what they were up against, and whether the demons really did have the Colt. Hell, Dean could definitely relate to that. Didn't mean it was exactly a good idea.

"Whether the demons have the Colt will not have any large impact on our plan," Cas said firmly, leaning forward to stick his head between Dean and Sam's seats as Dean pulled out and headed back for the motel. "We will make sure that the safe in the motel is heavily warded, so that the demons won't be able to get into it, and then we travel to a different location and begin the summoning."

"Cas knows the spell," Dean said, for probably the dozenth time. "Bobby can get us all the ingredients that we need, and Cas has the- whatever it is."

"The symbol of Azazel," Cas said. "We need something that belongs to him, and that will be our best option." He frowned, then added, "It won't be as strong as if we had some of his blood, but so long as the symbol is drawn properly, it will do its job."

"Blood," Sam said thoughtfully, and when Dean glanced over at him, he was staring down at his arm. "Would my blood work?"

"What?" Dean demanded.

"Think about it," Sam urged. "I have Azazel's blood in me. Wouldn't that be enough for us to work the spell?"

Dean didn't have a frickin' clue what to say for that, so he just looked back at Cas, deciding that Cas had to be the one to handle this one.

Cas was frowning, this look on his face that made it obvious that he was lost in thought. "In theory, yes," he said reluctantly. "The fact that he infected you with some of his blood does, in some senses, mean that your blood could be used interchangeably. I'm not entirely sure if it would work, but in theory-" He broke off, then shook his head. "It's alright. The symbol will be sufficient, and we know for certain that it will be effective. That's the option that we should choose."

"You're sure?" Sam asked. "Because if my blood can make the spell stronger-"

"I don't know that it would," Cas said. "You don't have much of his blood, after all. Perhaps if it was the other way around, and Azazel were the one to have been infected with your blood, then it would be easier. As it is, though, the symbol is out best option."

Sam grimaced, but nodded. "Okay," he said, but it was obvious that he was disappointed. Dean could almost understand it. Azazel giving Sam his blood, and then Sam turning around and using that same blood to summon Azazel and kill him? There was an element of poetic justice to that, which Dean definitely liked. But more than that, he could imagine what Sam was thinking. If the demon blood was used for something, then at least something good would have come out of the fact that it'd been given to him. Dean could see why that would be attractive.

"It doesn't matter how it happens," Dean said quickly. "Just as long as Azazel dies, we're good."

"Exactly," Cas agreed. "And I know that it will be dangerous – there's a reason why had vetoed this idea initially, after all. But with any luck, we'll be able to kill Azazel before he realizes what we're up to."

"It's not the best plan, but it's definitely the best chance that we've got right now," Dean added.

"I know, I know," Sam said, and though it was obvious he was still worried, he turned to Dean and nodded. "Okay. We call Bobby tomorrow."

"Sounds good," Dean agreed, and just like that, they had a plan. More than twenty years of chasing this thing, and now, they finally had a way to bring this to an end. He didn't know whether he should be excited or terrified. All he knew that was one way or another, all of this was going to end.

There was a couple other questions that Dean had about their encounter with Hester, and not just about what she and Cas had been talking about right before she'd disappeared. Somehow, though, Dean got the feeling that it was something that he should bring up in private, like Cas might be more likely to talk about it if it was just the two of them, without Sam hanging around. He didn't know where he got that idea from, but there it was.

So when Sam announced that he was going to go take a shower quickly, Dean waited until he could hear the water turn on, then turned to Cas and asked, "Who's Balthazar?"

Cas frowned, and for a moment, Dean thought that Cas was going to say the same thing that he'd said last time, pretending not to know him or something. Then Cas looked up at him and said, "He-"

Cas didn't make it past that one word before he stopped and frowned. "Angels don't have genders, of course," he said. "Or, I consider myself male, more or less. A side effect of spending so many weeks as a human. And some angels do tend to prefer one gender of vessel, but overall, it is rarely of consequence. But the English language is… difficult with pronouns. Angels don't use them, of course. Typically it is simplest to refer to the angel as whatever gender their vessel is in the moment, but as Balthazar was not inhabiting a vessel the last time I saw him, I'm not quite sure what to say." He paused, looking at Dean like he was waiting for a reaction.

"Okay," Dean finally said. "No genders. Got it. Because that's not weird at all."

"It isn't, actually," Cas said, looking confused by the very suggestion that that might not be normal. "Balthazar hasn't been to Earth for several decades, but the last vessel he used was male, though, so I suppose that I should continue with those pronouns."

"I guess that makes sense," Dean said. What the hell, right? He'd accepted that Cas was some badass winged being who had existed for millions of years. He could wrap his head around this, he guessed.

Cas smiled at him, but the smile slipped away as he continued his story. "As I was saying, Balthazar was a comrade in battle. We fought against Lucifer together at the beginning of time, and I have considered him to be a close friend ever since."

"…Right," Dean said slowly, because holy shit. Even though he had gotten used to the whole "angel" thing, he still tended to forget that Cas was literally as old as time (or, well, close enough, at least), and that things like Lucifer's rebellion had actually happened. Then he settled back against one of the pillows on the bed where he and Cas were sitting together, and said, "Tell me about it."

Instantly, Cas' eyes got a far away look, like he was loosing himself in some memory – and not a good one, either. A long minute passed, until Dean was almost starting to regret even asking the question.

Then, finally, Cas spoke.

"It was incredibly horrible," he said softly. "More angels would die in a single battle than in all of the millenniums that have passed since its end." He paused, and Dean was sure that he wasn't going to say anything more, but then he took a deep breath and continued. "Balthazar was a member of my garrison, though he behaved differently than the other angels. He was never one for blindly following orders, even back then. And he was never simply a soldier. We fought side by side."

Dean nodded, partly because he wasn't sure what he should say to that, and because he wasn't sure if Cas was done speaking or not. And sure enough, it was only a few seconds before Cas continued, "Balthazar saved my life once, actually. I had been struck my a wave of burning holy oil," Dean shuddered at that mental image, "and the Rit Zien-"

"Rit what?" Dean asked.

"Rit Zien," Cas said slowly. "They are… I suppose that they could be compared to doctors. Their job is to heal the angels who have been injured in battle, and if the injuries are extensive enough that the angel cannot be saved, their job is to grant the angel a painless death." Dean nodded once to show that he understood, and Cas continued, "The Rit Zien believed that I was not able to be saved, but Balthazar thought otherwise."

Cas didn't say anything for a moment. Dean just waited, not taking his eyes off of Cas – and he definitely was doing his best not to think about Cas getting covered in burning oil and getting burned up badly enough that he was supposed to die. It didn't matter that Cas was here and clearly okay. Dean just wasn't going to picture that, no way.

"I'm still not entirely sure what Balthazar did," Cas finally said. "He has always had his secrets, too many for anyone to ever discover. But somehow, I healed. I missed the remainder of the war – Lucifer had already been cast into Hell by the time that I recovered enough to return to the battlefield – but here I am, somehow alive."

"Well," Dean said, and cleared his throat. "If you see him again, tell him thanks from me, then. Because, you know, I'm kinda glad that you're still around."

"Yes," Cas said, and his eyes lost the distant look, and instead met Dean's. "I am very glad to be here, as well," he added slowly, and leaned toward Dean, resting his head against Dean's shoulder, allowing Dean to wrap his arm around Cas' back. And Dean didn't know if Cas had meant "here" as in alive or "here" as in this motel room, but he got the feeling that it was some combination of both, and he had to say, he definitely agreed.

"Dean," Cas suddenly said, "do you want to speak about your father?"

"Hell no," Dean said quickly, almost before he actually understood what Cas had even asked. It was more like a knee-jerk reaction than anything else, but still, that didn't mean that he was going to change his answer.

"It has been three days, and you haven't said a word about the fight that you had with him," Cas protested. "I know that it had to have hurt you-"

"It didn't," Dean said sharply. That was definitely a lie, and it was obvious that Cas knew it, too, judging by the way that he narrowed his eyes at Dean.

"After everything that you've done for him, it's understandable-"

"No," Dean snapped, and pushed himself up off the bed. Screw cuddling, he needed to pace. But he only made it about two steps before he spun back around to glare at his boyfriend. "Seriously, Cas, we're not going there."

From the bathroom, he heard the water shut off. Dammit, that meant that they only had another minute or two before Sam came back out here and joined them, and then it'd be two against one, with neither of them willing to let him get away with not talking about it, and wasn't that just going to be great?

Cas was standing now, too, and taking a step toward Dean. "Tell me how you feel, and I will stop bothering you," he promised. "One sentence – one honest sentence – and I won't say another word."

Dean scowled, and his first instinct was to argue just for the sake of arguing, because there was no way in hell that he was going to give in. Except, well, it was a pretty good deal. And at least then, he wouldn't have to worry about Cas and Sam trying some sort of tag team therapy on him. So that was a plus, at least.

He took a deep breath. "Fine," he snapped. "It hurts, okay? That good enough for you?"

Cas was frowning, and Dean could see the sadness practically oozing from every pore of his face, but he did nod, at least. "That was the agreement," he said, "though I wish that you had told me more."

"Never said it had to be a good sentence," Dean pointed out, and again, Cas just nodded. It looked like he really wasn't going to push the issue, like Dean could get away without saying anything more.

Maybe that was the reason why he kept talking.

"It really fucking hurts that he'd be willing to just walk away, even after how many times he's kicked us out," he said slowly, barely aware of what words were going to come out of his mouth until after he was already saying them. "And I hate that I was the one to kick him out."

Dean paused, but Cas didn't say anything more, just watched him.

And finally, Dean said in a much lower voice, "And I feel like the shittiest son in the world because I'm glad that I picked you. And because I'm starting to think that I'd do it again, if I had to."

For an instant, Cas just stared.

Then suddenly he moved, so fast that Dean almost didn't see him approach until he already had his hands on either side of Dean's face, and kissed him hard enough to almost hurt. Not that Dean was complaining. See, kissing was good. He liked the kissing. It reminded him of exactly why he had made this choice in the first place, and forced the guilt into the very back of his mind, where he almost didn't notice it was there.

After a few minutes – or longer, who knew? – Cas stepped back. He didn't take his hands off Dean, though he did move them from Dean's face to his shoulders, looking him very seriously in the eyes. "I would not have asked you to do this for me," he said slowly. "I would never have asked you to choose me over your father."

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, well," he said, running one hand through his hair awkwardly. "Not the whole reason it happened, I guess."

It'd been brewing in the back of his mind for a while. He didn't know how long. Those dark thoughts that he did his best to shove away and not even acknowledge. Stuff about wanting to know why the fuck Dad couldn't just give them a call, or leave a note, or do pretty much anything besides just drop them some coordinates and send them on a hunt while he did the important stuff. And even before that, too. He remembered curling up in bed the night after he'd sold his soul – Sam had wanted to know what was wrong, and Dean'd had to snap that he was fine, and yell until Sam finally given up and gone off to watch TV, leaving Dean alone with his thoughts. Dad was supposed to have returned that night, and Dean had stayed up long past when Sam had drifted off, cheek pressed against the arm of the couch, TV still blaring some action movie. Any minute, Dean figured, Dad would make it home. And then maybe, just maybe, Dean might actually tell him what he'd done.

Dad didn't get back until three days later. By then, Dean had already resigned himself to keeping this a secret.

He hadn't thought about that in a long time.

So maybe this had been a long time coming. Or maybe he'd just exploded all at once. He didn't know, and hell, it wasn't like he was going to think about it enough to figure it out. It'd happened. Details didn't matter.

"I know that," Cas said, nodding slowly. "And as I told you before, I am very happy that you made the choice to tell him these things."

Dean frowned at that. Okay, that was exactly what he'd expected Cas to say – Dad and Cas hadn't gotten along from the beginning, and Cas had had that idea that Dean needed to stick up for himself. Of course he was going to like that this had happened. Still, though, that idea just seemed wrong to Dean. Being concerned, he could understand, even if he fucking hated to feel like he was being looked at like he was some baby with hurt feelings. Hell, he could even get the fact that Sam and Cas thought that this was the right thing to do. Being happy that it happened, though? That was taking it one step too far.

Then again, he couldn't say for sure that some tiny part of him didn't feel the same.

"Okay, we're done talking about this," Dean announced, and went over and banged his fist against the bathroom door. It'd been a while since he'd heard the water turn off. Meaning that there had to be a reason why Sam wasn't coming out, and Dean was pretty sure he knew what it was. "Okay, okay, the moment's over, Sam," he called, hitting the door again. "Cas and I are done with the emotional shit, it's safe for you to join us."

He was half surprised that Sam had decided to give them privacy to finish their conversation – he would've thought that Sam'd be clamoring to join in on the feels fest. Then again, he'd probably been eavesdropping through the door this whole time, so maybe it wasn't so nice, after all.

He waited a few seconds, but Sam didn't respond, and he didn't come out.

Dean frowned. Okay, that was weird. "Sammy?" he called, and slammed his hand on the door again, as hard as he could. Cas joined him, standing beside Dean and sending worried looks between him and the door. Dean didn't even glance over at him, just leaned forward and called, "I'm giving you ten seconds to respond to me before I break down the door. So seriously, if there's anything that you don't want to see, then you'd better either talk to me or cover it up now."

He counted out the full ten seconds, though he might have sped up a bit toward the end, just to get it over with as quickly as possible. Sam still didn't say a word.

It only took three tries to break down the door.

Inside, everything looked like it was in place, for the most part. Sam's towel was hanging on the hook on the far wall. His dirty clothes were piled on the floor, and the clean ones he'd planned on changing into were nowhere to be seen. Sam's toothbrush was lying on the counter, unused, next to his cell phone. His hex bag – the one that was supposed to keep the demons from ever being able to reach them – was still on the counter beside the two. One shoe was lying sideways on the floor, with no sign of where the other one had gone. There weren't any windows to climb into or out of. No signs of a struggle.

But Sammy was gone.