CHAPTER 9

Never before had Cas wished more greatly for his powers to be at full strength.

No, that wasn't entirely true. He had felt the desire more acutely when they'd been on the battlefield, and he'd first seen Dean's body crumpled on the ground. Seeing Dean injured felt as though it had caused him actual, physical pain, and he would've done anything to make it right. Still, though, he never would have imagined that not being able to see Dean would be so much worse.

The doctors had said that Dean looked well. That was a relative measurement, though. What they meant was that Dean wasn't dead, and that there was no reason to believe that that would change soon. But there was also no reason to believe that he would survive, either. It was a waiting game, one that was slowly driving Cas insane.

Beside him, Sam was slumped low in his chair, his eyes only half open. The look on his face was achingly familiar. Castiel had watched the brothers for some time before making the decision to save Dean, the last time that Dean had been in this position. So Cas recognized the dejection in Sam's face, the way that he stared at the clock the same way that he had stared at Dean's body all those months ago. Except that this time, Cas wasn't in Heaven. He was on Earth, joining Sam in his vigil, and there was nothing that he could do to ease Dean's pain.

Both of them were counting the minutes, waiting for the next opportunity they would have to visit Dean, even if only for a few minutes. They had been this way for the past several hours. Waiting.

It had been roughly two hours since Dean had been taken from surgery and moved to the ICU (a unit that Cas hadn't even realized existed before today). It made sense, a place devoted to the most severe injuries. But he didn't like the restrictions that this place enforced, even if he did understand why they were necessary. And he didn't like that Dean had to be in this unit in the first place, instead of in a regular room where they would be allowed to stay constantly by his side.

Sam's fingers twitched on the armrest, the only sign of movement that he'd shown in the past hour. The way that his body was turned, Cas almost couldn't see the gauze pad that was taped to left cheek, covering the gash which the doctors had stitched up. According to them, there was a good chance that it was going to scar. Sam hadn't even reacted, just demanded to know when he could see Dean.

They were only allowed one visit every hour, and only one of them was able to see him at a time. Sam had gone the last time, and he'd said that Dean looked well enough, considering. Still, though, Cas ached to be able to see him with his own eyes, to hold his hand and feel his pulse the way that he had during the entire ride to the hospital, reassuring himself that Dean truly was still alive, and still fighting.

Cas cleared his throat, making Sam turn toward him. "You're sure that he didn't look like he was in any pain?" he asked. It had been almost an hour since Sam had been in to visit him, and Cas was still asking the same questions over again, as though the answers were somehow going to change from one minute to the next.

Sam still didn't seem bothered, though. "It didn't look like it," he said. "I don't know, though." That was the exact answer that he had given last time. Sam didn't look as though he wished to speak much, but he always answered Cas' questions the moment that he asked that, for which Cas was grateful.

This time, though, Sam added, "You'll be able to see for yourself in about five minutes."

Cas opened his mouth, then closed it, frowning. He knew that there was only five minutes until their next opportunity to visit Dean; he had just assumed that Sam would once again be the one to go. "Are you sure?" he asked. "Don't you want to see Dean?"

"'Course I do," Sam said, and took a deep breath, letting it out through his teeth. "It's your turn, though. You have your ID, right?"

"Yes," Cas said, reaching into his pocket to pull out the wallet he still carried. He wasn't entirely sure that he knew how he had managed to hold onto it throughout all these months, but somehow, he had. And the ID was still exactly where he had left it. He removed it down, looking down at the license that Sam had made for him. His face smiled up at him from the surface, looking slightly confused about why Sam had been taking the picture. He read the name James Mercury, and it almost made him smile, thinking back on how accepted he had felt when Sam had first given it to him. Then he remembered how Sam had hoped that they'd never need to use it, and any traces of amusement disappeared immediately.

"Thank you," Cas whispered. "For letting me visit him. I- Thank you."

"Of course," Sam said, then hesitated for a moment before saying, "And, you'll tell me how he looks, too, okay? I mean, if he's in pain or if anything's changed from what I've told you, and all that?"

"Of course," Cas said solemnly, and reached over to squeeze Sam's arm in a gesture that he hoped would be comforting. When Sam smiled, it only looked partially forced. Then he shook his head, settling back into his chair.

"God," Sam said in a low voice, though he did not sound particularly prayerful. "I've spent way too long doing this," he added, making a vague gesture around the hospital waiting room to show what he meant.

Cas nodded slowly. "We will not allow this to happen again," he promised, though he did not know who he was speaking to, whether it was Sam or himself or Dean, despite the fact that Dean couldn't hear him, wasn't even present in the room with them.

Sam nodded back, then abruptly stiffened, grabbing the armrests and looking like he was preparing to spring to his feet any moment. Cas instinctively plunged his hand into his jacket, reaching for his angel blade, which Sam had returned to him after the battle, and which he had hidden from the hospital staff. There was no chance that he would go unarmed, not when Dean was still injured and unable to defend himself.

It took him only a moment to realize what Sam had been reacting too.

Hester stood in the doorway to the waiting room. Her vessel was mussed, hair astray and her clothes ripped and stained with blood. From that alone, Cas knew that she must have come straight from the battlefield, and had not even taken the time to fix her appearance first. More than that, he could see the exhaustion written in every line of her vessel's face, and in the look in her eyes, and even in the brief flashes of her drooping wings that he was able to make out.

"How did you find us?" Sam demanded, his voice rough. Despite the aid that Hester had given them, Sam still seemed defensive, and looked the way that Cas felt – as if he was ready to spring at Hester the moment that she made any move to harm any of them. He trusted Hester, and a part of his mind bereted this fear as being ridiculous. Still, it was as if his instincts had taken a mind of their own, one that told him that he must protect Dean at all costs, even against someone who he logically knew would not try to harm them.

"The sigils are working, if that is your concern," Hester said as she stepped into the room. "I saw Dean's condition, and knew that you could not have gone far. It was a simple matter to search the nearest hospital until I found where you were." Sam and Cas both frowned, not finding that the slightest bit reassuring, until Hester added, "Do not worry. The other side is not nearly organized enough to track you down."

"So you've taken the lead, then?" Cas asked, and couldn't keep the hopeful tone from his voice. He knew how unlikely it was, considering that they had been greatly outnumbered. But still, if Hester was here now, and Naomi's soldiers were not, then it had to mean something good. He hoped, at least.

Hester's smile was fierce, and proud. "Yes," she said, and did not add anything more. Instead, she stepped forward, and placed one hand on Cas' cheek. He stiffened instinctively, then relaxed as all of the aches in his body vanished.

"Thank you," he said.

She did not respond to that, either, just turned and moved her hand to Sam instead. He didn't react at all to the healing, but after a moment, he reached up and pulled the gauze off of his cheek, revealing the unbroken skin beneath it.

"Thank you," Cas repeated, speaking for both Sam and himself when he expressed his gratitude over her healing Sam's injuries, though he still glanced around the room and added, "You have to be more discrete."

"None of them will notice us," Hester assured him – and sure enough, none of the others who waited here even glanced in their direction, almost as if they did not exist, or if they were not able to be seen. Cas nodded, and then Hester stepped back, gesturing for them to follow after her. "Come," she said. "I need you to show me where Dean is. I saw the extent of his injuries when I flew overhead during the battle, and I believe that he is the one who needs my help the most."

Sam was the one who led the way, taking them through the halls of the ICU until they found the section where Dean lay. None of the doctors or nurses that they passed even noticed their existence, just as Hester had promised.

It was his first time seeing Dean since they had rushed him into the hospital, hours earlier. Cas froze in the doorway, his breath catching at the sight of Dean lying amid the wires and tubes and medical machinery that were apparently necessary to keep Dean alive. Cas had known that Dean was badly injured, enough so that he needed to stay in this ward. And Cas had known about the machines, because Sam had warned him. Still, nothing prepared him for the sheer number of them, nor for the way that Dean looked almost unbearably small, nestled amongst them as though he fragile enough to break any second.

Behind him, Hester cleared her throat, and Cas quickly stepped out of the way. He reminded himself that Hester was here to help, and that soon Dean would really and truly be well. But it didn't change the fact that he felt as though this image would be seared into his mind for the rest of his existence.

Hester wasted no time stepping forward and placing her hand over Dean's stomach, a low glow immediately emitting from her palm. A second later, she stepped back. And though Dean's eyes still did not open, Cas swore that his body relaxed somewhat, as if a burden had been lifted.

"He will wake soon," Hester added as she stepped back. Cas nodded, though he couldn't take his eyes off of Dean long enough to look toward her. It was still frightening, seeing the various machines attached to him, but already his entire appearance seemed drastically changed, the difference between injured and healed so striking that Cas almost couldn't believe it. And Cas had seen how Dean had reacted with pain and panic the last time that he had woken amid these types of tubing – he had remained watching over the Winchesters for a moment after he had returned to Heaven, just long enough to ensure that they really would be alright. Perhaps it was for the best if Dean was not conscious for that this time, and did not have to experience that terror twice.

"Thank you," Sam said, speaking to her for the first time. "Just, thank you." His voice was low, almost fervent, leaving no doubt to his gratitude.

Hester inclined her head once, just barely, but said, "Don't thank me." Cas finally looked away from Dean, just enough to notice that Hester was speaking to him rather than to Sam. "It was repayment, for bringing the angels to my side. I would be dead if they had not arrived when they did, and Azazel and the girl would have reached the Gate." She frowned slightly, then asked, "Where is the girl?"

Cas frowned as well, and looked to Sam for the answer. Lily had disappeared the moment that they had reached the hospital, flatly refusing to come inside with them to be treated, saying that all of the precautions in the world wouldn't be enough to keep her from being touched. She had run off before they had gotten the chance to protest, and there had been no time to look for her – not when Dean was so desperately in need of treatment. Sam had gone to look for her while Dean had been in surgery, but Cas did not know if his search had been successful. The surgery had finished at the same time that Sam had returned, and there had been other things for Cas to think about.

"She's fine," Sam said. "I fixed her arm and got her a motel room. It's demon proofed, and angel proofed. There's no way in hell that any of them are going to get her again." His voice was fierce, determined, and Cas couldn't help but wonder if Sam knew that she had saved Cas' life, or if she had done something else that had instilled this loyalty in Sam.

Hester nodded again. "Naomi is dead," she said suddenly. The words were spoken sharply, in the clipped tone of a battle leader used to slaying their enemies, but there was a tone in her voice that betrayed her fierce joy. "Her followers have retreated to Heaven, and are trying to make a stand there."

"Wait," Cas said. "Naomi is dead? You're certain?"

Hester smiled. "I am," she said, and the pride in her voice was unmistakable as she added, "I was the one who dealt the final blow."

Cas stood there, almost numb with both relief and disbelief. He imagined all of the countless times that he had been forced to bend to her will, that his mind had been torn into and rewritten to be what she wanted. Then he thought about how he was free from that fear, how she would never be able to hurt him again. And yes, he knew that other angels could pick up the practice – surely at least some of her followers knew how it was done – but somehow, that thought didn't fill him with the same terror that Naomi did. She had been the one to hurt him the most, after all.

And now she was gone.

He wasn't sure how he should feel about it, whether he should feel sorry that it had been necessary, regret the fact that he was rejoicing over the death of his sister. But he did not care. He still could not bring himself to mourn the death.

She was dead, and so was Azazel. At once, their two greatest enemies defeated, and though they had been injured, they would all survive, with no lasting effects.

It was strange, but it was only once Hester had spoken those words that Cas truly began to believe that things might actually be alright.

"What about the rest of her angels?" Sam asked. "Are they still fighting?"

The victorious smile that Hester had worn slipped away now, replaced by a small frown. "Unfortunately, yes," she said. "They have rallied under Raphael. We may have defeated them this time, but they will continue to fight." She paused, and her frown deepened. "We caught them by surprise during the last battle, which was undoubtedly one of the main causes for our victory. I doubt that we will ever be so lucky again. The real war begins now that they are prepared, and we have to watch for their return strikes." She was silent another moment, and the smile gradually reappeared on her face – not as pronounced as it had been before, but still there. "But before, she outnumbered our forces. Now, we outnumber her, if only barely."

"How many warriors did we lose?" Cas asked, the question slipping out before he could stop himself, or even decide whether he wanted to know the answer or not.

Of course he needed to hear the answer, though, regardless of whether he wished to. He had been the one to persuade the angels to fight, and he had to know how many of them had been lost because of it.

And of course he knew that it had been a war that needed to be waged, to take Naomi out of power. And loss of life would come of it, and there was nothing that he could do to prevent that. The Winchesters would tell him that it hadn't been his fault if the angels had freely decided to turn against Naomi and fight of their own free will. Cas knew it was the truth.

Still, though. He needed to know.

Hester's face fell slightly, the reminder of the sacrificing diminishing her pride slightly. "We lost an eighth of our troops," she said. "But Naomi lost a quarter."

Cas took a deep breath, and nodded, letting it out slowly. An eighth of his angels. It was not as much as it could have been, but still, it was a greater number than he had feared. And if all of Heaven had taken part in this battle, it still meant thousands of angels dead.

"We will win this," Hester said in a low voice, perhaps sensing the direction which Cas' thoughts had taken. "We will not let their sacrifice be in vain."

"I know," Cas said. "Thank you." Then he faced another moment of hesitation, before finally asking, "Who is among the dead? What about-"

His voice trailed off. He didn't know which angels he should ask about first, or even if he should say their names, or if he was too scared of what the answer would be.

"It was much of your garrison," Hester said softly. "They had the most faith in you, and fought the hardest, and so many of them were among the first to fall. They died bravely, if that makes it better."

"It doesn't," Cas said shortly, then shook his head. He had known that death would come, and he shouldn't be surprised now that it had arrived. Even so, it was not any easier to face. Another long breath, and he asked, "What about Balthazar?"

For a long moment, Hester said nothing. Then she reached into a jacket pocket and drew blade, slowly setting it down on the end of Dean's bed, beside his legs. Cas' eyes locked onto it. He had fought with Balthazar enough times that he instantly recognized the shape of his blade, even though most blades were indistinguishable from one another, even to angels.

"This was found lying atop a pair of wingprints that we believe belong to him," Hester said softly. "It was... difficult to tell, and we did not have time for investigation. He's not the only angel who is missing and presumed dead."

Cas swallowed, and he could do nothing but stare down at the blade. "Thank you for this," was all that he managed to say. Finally, it was Sam who had to reach down and pick up the blade for him, carefully storing it in the inside pocket of his jacket. Cas knew that it would be safe there, and despite everything, he couldn't help but feel a bolt of relief once the blade was out of sight, as if removing the sign of the death would make it less real.

"And," Sam suddenly said, breaking the silence that had fallen. Both Hester and Cas turned toward him, and he looked almost uncomfortable with their gazes, but looked to Hester and asked, "And does Dean have his soul back? I mean, I know that he should, since Cas killed Azazel. But do you know for sure?"

"I'm not sure," Hester said, then returned to Dean's bedside, rolling up her vessel's sleeve. "I will make sure."

Cas' first response was to protest, or insist that it was unnecessary. But Sam was right. They needed to be certain, or else that fear would always creep into the back of their minds. And more than that, if there was any chance that Dean might not have his soul, they needed to know now, while there was still time to do something more to regain it.

"Please do," Cas said tightly, turning his back on the bed and moving to place his hand on Sam's shoulder, already moving to restrain him before Hester had even touched Dean.

But even with his back turned toward the bed, Cas found himself looking over his shoulder, watching Dean's body as Hester forced her hand inside to check his soul.

It was not as painful as it could have been. Cas knew that the doctors had given Dean pain killers, and Cas desperately hoped that they were still moving through his bloodstream, preventing him from feeling at least some of what Hester was doing to him. It wasn't enough to stop his body from reacting, jerking on the bed, pained noises coming from his mouth even though he wasn't awake enough to scream. The heart monitor had been beeping steadily since they had entered the room, but now it began racing unnaturally fast, the monitor going wild and blaring its alarm. Hester glanced at it, and it immediately returned to beating its steady rhythm.

Sam instinctively threw himself forward, reaching into his jacket to where he stored his weapons. It was all that Cas could do to hold Sam back, to grab his wrist and stop him before he could close his hand around the handle of the angel blade. "Don't," Cas said sharply. "This is necessary." His own voice sounded unnatural in his ears, as if it couldn't possibly belong to him, if it was advocating for anything that caused Dean this much pain.

Then Hester removed her hand, and stepped back. "His soul is his own," she said, rolling her sleeve back down again. "No demon holds a claim to it any longer."

Sam relaxed, just slightly. And though he still watched Hester suspiciously, Cas at least felt as though he could release him, without running the risk of Sam attempting to attack Hester again.

"You're sure?" Sam demanded. "I mean, you're positive that he's got it back?"

"I am," she said, and nodded. Then she bit her lip, her face abruptly making her appear far less vulnerable than one would think that a bloodstained war leader could look, and turned toward Cas. "What happens next? How do we go on from here?"

That was a good question, one that Cas wasn't entirely certain how to answer. "I intend on staying with the Winchesters," he said, and that part was easy. It was everything else that was so hard. "What do you think will happen?"

She thought for a second, then answered, "For now, we fight in Heaven. You realize that this might not last? The battle may move to Earth again, or maybe it will stay in Heaven forever. We could fight for one year, or for a hundred. And there's no way to tell what will happen if we lose, or even if we win." And despite everything – despite the fact that she had been the one who had wanted him to return the angels' free will to them – he could see the fear in her eyes as she faced down the prospect of it now. He could understand why. For a being who had spent the past millenniums believing that they had been created specifically to obey orders, creating their own future was the most terrifying thing that he could imagine.

But it was also the most liberating.

"I know that," he said solemnly. "I know that there is no telling what will happen from here, and no way of telling what will come next. Maybe the angels will once again come for me, or for Sam or Dean. Maybe we will never again need to get involved. We can't know." He was fairly certain that she would be able to hear the fear in his own voice now as he spoke these words, and really considered the implications that they held.

Slowly, Hester reached out her hand to hold Cas', giving his hand a small squeeze that Cas thought was meant as a comforting gesture. "All we know is that the war rages on," Hester said quietly, "and that we will continue to fight."

"Yes," Cas agreed, and squeezed her hand back. Then he glanced around the room. Toward Sam, who was staring at Dean with such a look of relief on his face, it was as if he wasn't aware of the rest of the conversation, or had processed nothing except the fact that Dean once again had his soul. And toward Dean, who was no longer resting quite as easily as he had a moment ago, but didn't seem to be in any pain. Cas thought it would only be a few more minutes before he woke.

And finally, Cas smiled.

"Your war wages on," Cas said, turning back to Hester. Then he gave one more glance toward the Winchesters, and said, "But I think that my war is over."