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EPILOGUE

"I suppose I should just be glad that you idjits didn't actually manage to get yourselves killed?" Bobby asked.

Dean laughed, and adjusted his grip on his phone. He was outside the motel where they were all staying at the moment. None of them had really wanted to go far after Dean had been released from the hospital – or, okay, he hadn't exactly been released so much as Sam and Cas had snuck him out without the doctors noticing. In his defense, it wasn't like there was anything more that the doctors could do after they'd gotten him unhooked from the machines, even if they'd been saying something about further testing. They didn't really know what was going on, anyway.

"It's not funny, boy," Bobby snapped. "I should've been there with you."

Dean instantly sobered, mostly because Bobby was right. It hadn't been funny, how close he'd come this time around. And sure, it wasn't exactly his first run-in of this sort, but that didn't mean that he'd enjoyed it any more. "Yeah," he agreed, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Yeah, I wish you'd been there, Bobby. I'm sure you would've kept my ass in line to keep the demons from chowing down on it."

"You bet I would've," Bobby grumbled. "You get an angel or something to poof you to the battlefield, and you don't think to bring me with you?"

Dean frowned, and rubbed the back of his head. "Sorry," he said, because honestly? When Sam had been missing, and Hester'd been offering him a way to get to his brother, and Cas had just frickin' vanished from the backseat like that? Bringing in backup had pretty much been the last thing on Dean's mind.

"At least you boys had someone there with ya," Bobby said, in a light tone that said that all was forgiven. "It sounds like Cas really came through in the pinch, huh?"

"Yeah," Dean said, and it was weird, but he couldn't help the smile from coming back to his face at the thought of Cas running in to save the day. Sure, part of him was upset that Cas had had to, and he was sure as hell mad that Cas had thrown himself into danger trying to attack Azazel on his own like that – ignore the fact that Dean had done the exact same thing, because this wasn't about being fair, dammit – but still. Busting in and killing the villain? Well, Dean had always had a thing for superheroes.

He suddenly realized that he hadn't said anything for a few seconds, just long enough for the silence to get weird, so he quickly added, "I mean, the guy can hold his own. I don't think I would've have made it without him." Or, he actually had the proof that he wouldn't have been able to, he thought ruefully as he glanced down at his stomach, where the gaping hole had been torn less than a day ago. Yeah, he definitely wasn't going to be calling his fight against Azazel a success, even if he had cleared the way for Cas to get it done.

Bobby just chuckled. "It's okay, boy, it's me," he said. "You don't have to pretend that you weren't just standing around with that lovestruck look on your face."

"I wasn't," Dean protested immediately.

Bobby just chuckled again, but when he spoke, his voice was serious again. "Listen," he said. "I'm sure as hell glad that you got your soul back, and that Sammy's okay, and that Azazel's not gonna be bothering anyone again. But I'm also glad you got Cas, alright?"

And- huh. Dean honestly wasn't sure what he was supposed to say to that. It wasn't like Bobby usually busted out the sappy pep talks, or got anywhere near the emotional crap that Dean always avoided as a general rule. Which meant that hearing this now was weird as hell, and he didn't know where he was supposed to go from here.

"Thanks, Bobby," he finally said. Simple enough. Wasn't super insensitive either – he was pretty good at answers like that – but wasn't complete mushy-gushy crap, either. He figured that made it a good balance.

They hung up pretty shortly after that – there wasn't really anything more to say, and anyway, they'd been on the phone for a while at that point, and long conversations weren't really Dean's thing. Normally, they'd just call Bobby up, get whatever info they needed for whatever they were hunting at the moment, and be done with it. Actually sitting down and talking was kinda weird, if he were being honest. Not bad, necessarily, but not exactly normal.

There was a reason why he'd been on the phone for so long, though, and it wasn't all to do with catching Bobby up on what had happened with Azazel. Mainly, it was because there was one other person that Dean had to call next, and he wasn't entirely sure what to say.

A month ago, Dean wouldn't have worried about what to tell Dad. But then, plenty of stuff had changed since then.

The call went straight to voicemail. Dean hadn't expected anything else. "Azazel is dead," he said shortly. "Sam and I are fine. So is Cas." Not that Dad would probably care about that, but it didn't feel right to not include Cas, even if it wasn't something that Dad wanted to hear about.

He hung up after that. That was the gist of it, wasn't it? Everything that Dad really needed to know, all cut down into three little sentences. Dean slipped the phone into his jacket pocket, and adjusted his seat on the railing he was sitting on, the one directly outside the front door to the motel. He didn't bother going inside yet.

It was less than five minutes before Dad called back. That was also exactly what Dean had expected.

"How?" Dad demanded the moment that Dean answered the phone.

"Cas did it," Dean said, and paused, trying to imagine his dad's reaction to that. He still remembered all of Dad's insistences that Cas couldn't be trusted, that he shouldn't be involved with what they were doing. And Dad wasn't exactly the type who liked to be proved wrong. Dean wasn't sure if Dad would be excited that Azazel had finally bitten a bullet (or a blade, if you wanted to get technical), or if he was going to be more upset about the fact that he'd been proven wrong.

"Cas," Dad said slowly, and based off that word alone, Dean couldn't quite tell which way he was going to go.

"Yeah," Dean said, his voice coming out a whole lot fiercer than he had meant it to. "I tried taking him out, but he got me before I got him. Cas was the one who had to finish the job while Sam got me to the hospital. It's fine, though. Cas got one of his angel pals to patch me up."

For a long while, Dad didn't say anything. Dean sat there waiting, telling himself not to hold his breath, or to ask what Dad was thinking, even if he was dying to know. Dad didn't seem inclined to speak any time soon, though. After a minute or so had passed, Dean switched his phone over to speaker, and set it on the railing beside him. No sense holding it up to his ear this whole time, not if there was nothing to hear but silence.

"Cas was the one who did it?" Dad finally asked.

"Yeah," Dean said. "With an angel blade."

"You're sure he's dead?" Dad immediately demanded, voice sharpening. "You sure that those blades are going to work?"

"I'm sure," Dean said quickly. "I stabbed my fair share of demons with them, too. Trust me, none of them made it out."

Another long silence, and somehow, this one managed to be even more uncomfortable than the first. Dean shook his head, and rubbed his eyes with one hand, but still didn't say anything, just waited for whatever came out of Dad's mouth next.

"And you're sure that you're okay?" Dad asked, his voice low.

Dean blinked. That... honestly hadn't been the question that he'd been expecting next, even though it probably should've been. It was standard procedure. You finish a hunt, you tell the other one what had gone down, you double check to make sure that there hadn't been any injuries that needed taken care of. Dad had asked Dean that question way more times that he could even count, but somehow it hadn't occurred to him that Dad would want to know that now.

"Yeah," Dean said. "We're all fine. Nothing happened to Sammy. I mean, he got a little banged up during the fighting, but nothing serious, and it's all been patched up. Nothing to worry about."

"Good," Dad said. "You got your soul back?"

"Uh, yeah," Dean said, then cursed himself for sounding awkward. Fuck, this was Dad. And yeah, he knew that a lot of shit had gone down, but still, it shouldn't be messing with him this bad, making it so that he didn't even know what he was supposed to say. "That's what happens when the demon who owns your soul dies. Cas got that angel pal I mentioned to, uh, check." He swore he remembered that part. He remembered something invading his dreams, like this white-hot pain suddenly breaking through his skin, and making him feel unexpectedly vulnerable for a minute, like he was utterly at someone else's mercy, even though he didn't known who or why. Hadn't mentioned that part to Cas, though. He figured that that experience was something that he'd be better off keeping to himself, and that Cas would be a hell of a lot happier thinking that Dean had been unconscious for the whole thing.

"And you trust what Cas said about it?" Dad asked. "You're sure this friend of his was telling the truth?"

"Yeah," Dean said shortly. "I am."

Dean was getting really frickin' tired of these long silences.

"Good," Dad repeated. "I'm glad."

Dean made a vague noise of agreement – yeah, he was pretty damn glad not to have an eternity of hellfire in front of him. And alright, he knew that with the whole messed up angel situation in Heaven, ending up there wouldn't exactly be paradise, not for him. But that didn't mean that he wanted to be tortured forever. If he had to pick a side, he'd definitely take his chance with the angel dicks.

So yeah, "good" didn't even begin to cover it.

Dean didn't really know what else was left to say, and Dad didn't seem to have anything left, either. Dean reached for his phone, picking it up in one hand and moving his finger toward the "end call" button. After all, if they weren't going to talk, then he didn't want to rack up a phone bill – never mind that it was one that he was never going to pay.

"Dean," Dad said, a second before Dean ended the call. "I'm proud of you. It sounds like you and Sam did good."

Dean's finger only hesitated over the button for another split second before he pressed down. Afterward, he sat there for another few seconds, staring straight ahead of him, Dad's words ringing through his mind.

Then he heard a throat clear, and a moment later, Sammy stepped around the corner of the motel. "I was coming out to see if I could talk to Bobby quick," he said, in a low voice that made it clear that he'd been listening to the end of the conversation, or that he at least knew who it had been with. "I was wondering what you two were talking about for so long."

"Sorry," Dean said, glancing down at the phone.

Sam waved that off. "I'll just call Bobby myself later," he said. "Probably should do that anyway, considering everything that's happened. Even if you've already filled me in, I bet he'd want to hear my side of the story."

Sam walked over and leaned back against the railing beside Dean, staring off at the motel the same way that Dean was doing. And Dean knew exactly what Sam was doing – not pressuring him, not demanding any answers. And hell, Dean appreciated it, he really did. But it was also making his twitchy as fuck, knowing that Sam wanted to say something about this – and that Sam was definitely thinking it, even if the words weren't actually coming out of his mouth. So Dean sighed, and figured that he might as well figure out what "it" was. "How much did you hear?"

Sam hesitated. "Not everything," he said. "Just the last few seconds. It sounds like you and Dad weren't exactly doing a whole lot of talking before then."

Yeah, you could definitely say that again. "And?" Dean asked. "What do you want to say?"

Sam turned to look over at him. "I don't know," he said, and Dean narrowed his eyes, but then he realized that Sam really was telling the truth – he didn't have an opinion on this one, which was the absolute last thing that Dean had expected from his brother. Sam always had something to say, about everything. And sure enough, it was only another couple seconds before Sam was continuing, his voice careful, "I don't know, man, I'm still mad at him. But I know that you've been wanting to hear that."

Dean nodded slowly, and looked away from his brother. "The last time he said that, it was because Azazel made him," Dean said slowly. He didn't mention the fact that that had been the reason that he'd known that Dad was possessed. Sam had been there, too. He knew exactly what had gone down.

"I know," Sam said slowly. "Don't think that that was what happened this time."

"Yeah, I don't think so, either," Dean said. "I think this time he might've meant it."

"And?" Sam prompted, after Dean didn't immediately continue.

And like Sam, there was nothing that Dean could do but shrug. "I don't know," he said. "God knows I've got enough reason to be pissed at him." And he was. He definitely was. All he had to do was think back, imagine Cas getting shot and Dad taking it as proof that Cas was lying an couldn't be trusting instead of looking at the way that he'd saved Sam's life. Or pretty much anything else, all of the other shit that Dean had yelled at him about. Running off, or driving them away. Dean was sick of it, and honestly, he wasn't so sure that he even would've made the phone call if it wasn't for the fact that he'd had to – this was way too big of news to keep it to himself.

Dean couldn't help but replay Dad's words in his head, like his thoughts were stuck on repeat. How many times had he wanted to hear Dad tell him that exact thing? And he hadn't, not when he was thirteen and handled that werewolf case completely on his own, or when he'd been seventeen and fought his way through five ghouls with nothing worse than a bad cut to the arm. Figured that this would be what finally got Dad to say it, the fact that Azazel was finally dead. Too bad that Dean hadn't actually had anything to do with it, or any reason to take the credit.

"I don't know," he said again, like he was one of those toys with a voice box that just repeated the same phrase over and over. But maybe it was the fight, or maybe it was the fact that he really hadn't had a whole lot to do with the fact that Azazel was done for, but he couldn't even feel happy about this one. "I guess I thought that it'd mean more."

Sam nodded slowly. "You know that Cas and I are proud of you, right?" he asked. "I mean, you don't even have to go out and gank some huge demon to get us to say it."

"Well gosh, Sam, doesn't that just tickle me pink," Dean said, and even managed to keep a straight face. Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes, and Dean smirked.

All sarcasm aside, though, he had known that. And it was nice, actually. Not that he was gonna tell Sammy that he felt that way. If he acted that cheesy now, there was no way that Sam would let him hear the end of it, and he'd probably have to spend the rest of his life dodging Sam's super obvious attempts to have deep, emotional conversations – even more than he already had to.

"You want to talk about it at all?" Sam asked.

This time, it was Dean's turn to roll his eyes. "Look at me, Sam," he said. "Do I look like I want to have this conversation?" He didn't bother waiting for Sam's response, just jumped down off the railing and started for their room. "Now come on, we've got other things to worry about. Like what we're gonna do with that Lily chick, for one. Any idea where she's gonna go?"

"Actually, Cas had an idea about that," Sam said, following after Dean and pulling the room key out of his pocket. "I figured it's at least worth asking her about."

"Wait, wait," Dean said. "Cas was the one to come up with the solution to this?" Not that Dean should really be so surprised – it wasn't like Cas couldn't come up with good plans when he wanted to. Still, his ideas were usually more of the "heavenly warrior" variety. His understanding of human problems was, at best, still pretty fucking terrible. "How?"

Sam shrugged. "It makes sense that he'd be the one to remember that this was an option," he said, "considering that it's the exact same thing that you wanted to do with him back when we first met."

It was only a few hours drive to get to the Roadhouse. Cas rode in the passenger seat so that Sam could sit beside Lily in the backseat, because even though she had on her gloves and her hoodie and her hat pulled low, nobody but Sam wanted to risk sitting beside her. Cas thought that he saw something akin to hurt flash across her face when she saw how much distance that they were all keeping, and it had almost been enough to make him want to reach out toward her. At the last moment, though, he stepped back. Despite the guilt that welled up inside him at the thought, he still didn't want to risk discovering what would happen if a fallen angel were to touch her skin.

He thought that Sam must have been feeling the same pity as Cas was, because he seemed to be making a point of reaching out to touch her shoulder, or pat her on the arm, or even ruffle her hair once or twice. The smile that she gave him on those occasions was sad, and made Cas feel even worse about keeping his distance, even for good reasons.

He did make a point of talking to her as much as he could, learning about her sister and brother-in-law, what her parents did for a living and what they were doing now.

That last question turned out to be a mistake. Lily's face fell, and she turned herself away from him completely, her uninjured arm wrapped tight across her chest and resting her cheek against the window. "I called them to let them know that I was alive," she said, "and that I wasn't coming back."

Cas hesitated, unsure. He had wondered why Lily had decided to accompany them to the Roadhouse, but he still wasn't sure if it was acceptable to ask.

She must have known that he was wondering, though, because she added, "You don't know my mom. After I scared them like this- god, she had to have been having a heart attack the whole time that I was gone. If I come back, there's not going to be anything in the world that could stop her from running over and hugging me, and..."

She left the rest of her sentence unspoken. Cas understood.

"It is nice that they care about you so much," he tried, hoping that that would help, at least. She just shook her head and made a faint noise, one that wasn't exactly disagreement, but it was clear that she didn't agree, either.

They didn't talk as much after that. And anyway, it was only another hour or so before Sam pulled up next to the Roadhouse.

"About time," Dean said, climbing out of the car and stretching his arms above his head. "Man, I swear that was the worst traffic we've ever hit coming out this way. I mean, it's frickin' Nebraska. There's not supposed to be enough cars to even cause that much of a backup."

Considering the length of some of their drives, Cas thought that this one had been relatively short in comparison, and couldn't see why Dean was complaining. He didn't say that, though. Instead, he just climbed out of the Impala as well, then turned to watch as Lily carefully did the same. Based on the careful way that she moved, he could tell that all of her was still hurting, and not only from the injuries that he could see. Her face and arm were obvious – Sam had pushed her arm back into its socket, and cut up some cloth to make her a makeshift sling – but Cas could also see the protective way that she held her chest, and the slow way that she moved. It was obvious that the rest of her was sore as well.

Cas had offered to call Hester back to heal her. Or, it was likely that Hester wouldn't come herself this time, but one of the other angels could be sent, and healing a few minor injuries would be simple enough. Considering the part that Lily had played in Azazel's death, it would be the least that she deserved in return. She'd shaken her head before he had even finished his offer, though, and said that she had had enough of angels to last for the rest of her life. She would rather deal with her injuries for the time being than meet with one again. In a way, Cas could understand that. He imagined that living through Heaven's civil war would be traumatizing for a human.

Although, if she wanted to avoid supernatural creatures, then the Harvelle's Roadhouse was not the best place for her to go. They didn't have many options, though, and this had been deemed better than anything else they could think of.

"Are you alright?" Cas asked, reaching out one hand as if to steady her, even though he couldn't close the distance completely.

Her face was flat, showing no sign of emotion as she nodded. "I'm fine," she said, and her voice was tight, unhappy. Of course, she had sounded unhappy during all of the time that Cas had known her, but she seemed almost... more so now, though he didn't know for sure why.

There wasn't time to talk about it further. Barely another second passed before the front door to the Roadhouse opened, and a female voice said, "About time you finally got here."

"That's what I said," Dean said with a grin, and Cas turned to see two women exiting the bar and coming toward them. Jo and Ellen, Cas knew, and Dean had told him enough about the two that he could guess at which of them was which. "You have the stuff?" Dean asked.

"That's the first thing out of your mouth?" Jo demanded, though her tone was good natured, an easy smile appearing on her lips. She walked over and gave Dean a shove in the arm. "I'm starting to think that that's the only reason why you even bothered to drop by in the first place."

"'Course not," Dean said, and returned the smile as he stepped forward to give Jo a short, one-armed hug, though he still looked toward Ellen expectantly over the top of Jo's head.

"Ash got it," Ellen said. "He'll be out here any moment." Then she turned toward Lily, still smiling, though Cas thought that there was something almost slightly wary about the her expression now. "This the girl you were telling me about?"

"The girl who kills everyone she touches?" Lily asked, voice flat, no emotions leaking into her tone at all. "Yeah, that's me."

Cas had to give Ellen credit – her face didn't slip. In fact, she didn't react at all, except to nod. "Heard you're looking for work," she said. "Ever think about getting into the hunting business? Depending on whether it works on creatures or not, a talent like that might come in handy."

"It's not a talent," Lily spat, then scowled, turning away. "I might have thought about it," she muttered, just loud enough that Cas wasn't sure if anyone else had heard it.

Apparently Ellen did, though, because she said, "Well, you've got plenty of time to keep thinking. We can set you up in one of the back rooms while you figure it out, if you like." She glanced at Dean and Sam, and her smile widened slightly as she said, "Consider it a personal favor. Besides, the place has been busy lately. We can always use some extra hands, and it's not like Ash ever pulls his weight."

"I can hear you, you know," someone else said, and Cas glanced back over at the Roadhouse's front door just in time to see a third person join them. His hair was long, stretching past his shoulders, and he carried an open beer can in one hand and a small glass bottle in the other. "And just for the record, I resent that. I always do the things you tell me."

"Yeah, after I've nagged you into getting off your butt and actually doing it," Ellen said, giving him a swat on the arm.

Ash – Cas knew that that was who this man must be – shrugged it off, acknowledging that, then turned to Sam and Dean. "Winchesters!" he said, grinning at the two of them, then used his beer to make a vague gesture at Cas. "And this is, what? Your angel boyfriend or whatever?"

Cas opened his mouth to respond, then closed it, squinting at him in confusion. As far as he was aware, neither Sam nor Dean had talked to Ash about who Cas was, and had never mentioned his relationship with Dean.

"You're not the only one that Bobby talks to," Ellen said, in way of explanation. "He keeps me updated on what you boys are up to, since it's not like I can expect either of you to pick up the phone when you don't need something." Sam and Dean both had the grace to look sheepish.

"Speaking of which," Jo said, and poked Dean in the side, "why'd you never tell us about him, huh?"

"When was I supposed to?" Dean asked. "'Hey, I need you to look us some info about kids with dead parents, and by the way, I'm banging this dude Cas'?" Jo rolled her eyes.

"Okay, okay," Sam cut in, holding up his hands and grinning. "You can interrogate Dean about his love life later. For now..." Sam reached into his jacket pocket and carefully removed the Colt. Even though Cas knew that it wasn't loaded, and that the last of the bullets had been used by Azazel, he still couldn't help but flinch at the sight of it. He supposed that it was a side effect of being shot with it once already, and then having Azazel attempt to murder him with it shortly after. Dean reached over and grabbed his hand.

"Awesome," Ash announced, turning away from Dean. He crumpled his beer can and tossed it to the ground – earning himself a glare from Ellen, which he ignored – then grabbed the gun from Sam and held it in the air. "Let's light this sucker up!"

They headed around to the back of the Roadhouse, since Ellen insisted that burning something so close to the road wasn't a good idea, even if Cas doubted that there were going to be any more cars passing this way anytime soon. If he were being honest, he'd also say that he didn't quite believe what Ellen had said about needing more hands to help around the Roadhouse. It didn't look like they saw many visitors, or at least, they definitely didn't have many now.

Still, though, they found a clear area out back, where there was already a fire pit dug. Ash tossed the Colt into the center of it without any ceremony, then held out the bottle to Sam. "Here ya go," he said, dumping the bottle into Sam's hands so fast that Sam nearly dropped it, and had to scramble to get a hold. "Figured one of you guys should do the honors."

"Where'd you even find this stuff?" Dean asked, and Sam started pouring a thick layer of it over the gun. "I mean, most hunters we've run into don't even know that angels exist, let alone how to get their hands on some holy oil."

Ash shrugged. "I've got a friend of a friend of a friend," he said, casually stretching his hands up over his head before adding another, "of a friend." He shook his head. "The point is, you can get your hands on pretty much anything if you know the right people, and enough hunters have passed through here over the years that even if you don't know someone who can get what you want, you're bound to at least know someone who knows someone who can."

Dean nodded, and Sam twisted the cap back onto the half-empty bottle, then tucked it into his jacket pocket. "And this'll work?" he asked, looking toward Cas for the answer.

"Yes," Cas said, just as he had the first time that this question had been asked of him. He didn't voice his doubts, or admit that he wasn't entirely certain. If it didn't work, then they'd find out soon enough, and come up with a new plan. But he thought that it would. "Holy oil is one of the strongest substances that I know of. It's the only substance strong enough to trap an angel, and one of the only things that can wound one, even if it isn't always fatal. I believe that it will serve to destroy the Colt."

"Well, only one way to find out," Dean said, and flipped open his lighter, which Cas hadn't even noticed him pulling from his pocket. The flame sparked to life, and Dean added, "I totally call dibs on this one."

"Go ahead," Sam said, stepping back and gesturing toward the fire pit.

Dean grinned, and tossed the lighter into the fire pit with just a bit too much of a dramatic flair. Normally, Cas would say that Dean's tendency to throw the lighter into whatever he was burning was wasteful, even if they did have several dozen replacement lighters in the back of the Impala. In this case, though, it turned out to be a good decision. The moment that the flame touched the oil, it flared up into the air, high enough that all of them had to stumble back to avoid being burned.

"Well," Ellen said, and chuckled slightly, "you sure know how to give something a good ending."

"Dude," Ash said, then shook his head and didn't add anything more. Instead, he just grinned and grabbed the nearest stick that he could find, using it to poke at the Colt. Then he quickly had to drop the stick, as the whole thing burned away in just a few seconds. "That's awesome," he announced.

"So, how long does this thing take to burn?" Jo asked.

The whole group turned to Cas for the answer. He frowned. "It depends on the exact amount of oil that Sam used, but it will be a long time," he said. "Holy oil is designed to burn slowly." After all, it wouldn't be of much use to trap an angel if the angel only had to wait a few seconds before they oil was gone.

"So we've got a while," Jo concluded. "Might as well go inside, then. No point in waiting out here." She grabbed Cas by the edge of his jacket – a brown one of Dean's that had somehow survived the chaos of the past months – and dragged him back to the Roadhouse. "Come on, angel boy. Let's see if you can handle your liquor the way that us humans can."

They stumbled out to the back of the Roadhouse a few hours later to check on the Colt. Or, Dean was stumbling. Cas was surprisingly steady on his feet, that bitch. He'd drank at least twice as much as everyone else – mainly because Jo was so amused by Cas that she kept shoving more drinks at him – and the guy still didn't even look buzzed.

"I told you that you shouldn't have tried to drink Jo under the table," Sam said, voice heavy with amusement, and this infuriating little smirk on his face as he watched Dean nearly trip over his own damn feet and faceplant into the dirt.

Dean shook his head, then grabbed the side of his head because woah, not a good idea. "Doesn't make sense," he mumbled. It wasn't like this was the drunkest he'd ever been, and Jo wasn't exactly looking a hundred percent steady herself, but still, she should at least be worse off than him.

Jo grinned this big, cheesy smile that showed all her teeth. "You're not the first guy I've scammed," she said. "Just be glad that I didn't get you to bet on it this time, or you'd be leaving here empty handed."

Dean scowled, and came close to tripping over nothing again. At least Cas showed some sympathy – he reached out and wrapped an arm around Dean's waist, helping to keep him steady. Sam just laughed. Some brother he was.

Okay, if the situations had been reversed, Dean definitely would have done the same thing. But still. Didn't mean that Sam had the right.

"And you know what?" Dean added. "This isn't fair either." Cas frowned, not getting it, so Dean made a vague gesture up and down Cas' body. "Last time we went out drinking, I was the one who had to haul your drunk ass around. This angelic alcohol immunity or whatever, it's fucking bullshit."

Cas was grinning now, the exact same way that Sam was. "Even so, I have to say that I'm enjoying it," he said. "I'm going to look forward to going to bars with you from now on."

Dean just scowled again. "Fucking bullshit," he repeated.

The fire was still burning just as high as it had been when they'd left it, even though they'd been gone long enough for the sky to be starting to get dark. "Is it supposed to do that?" Dean asked. "Doesn't seem natural."

"It's holy oil, Dean," Cas said. "Why would it act natural?"

Okay, he had a point there.

Sam, Jo, and Ellen left to fill up some buckets from the hose along the building. Dean and Cas didn't follow – apparently Dean couldn't be trusted to carry one himself, which he'd be mad about if he wasn't pretty sure that it was true. Cas stayed with him, since he was still holding Dean up, and anyway even three buckets were probably overkill, heavenly substance or not.

Ash and Lily were still inside the Roadhouse. Ash was busy doing something on his computer which, knowing Ash, could be anything from playing stupid Internet games to hacking into the frickin' government. And Lily- well, Dean didn't actually know where she'd disappeared to, only that she'd run off to some corner of the Roadhouse the moment that they'd first gone inside, and nobody had seen her since. To be fair, though, nobody had exactly gone looking. Not that they were trying to ignore her, or anything like that – it just seemed like the girl deserved some alone time, after everything.

It ended up taking two full buckets and half of the third to put out the fire completely, so it was a good thing that the three of them all went, after all. And there was no way in hell that any of them were going to be messing around with the Colt until all of the flames were gone – considering that these flames could apparently melt angels in their true forms, Dean wasn't terribly eager to see what it did to human flesh.

After they got rid of the fires, it still took a few minutes for the smoke to clear. When it did, though, they could all see the Colt clearly.

Or, specifically, they could see what was left of it.

Cas' plan had worked maybe too well. What used to be the Colt was now just a charred lump of metal, melted and distorted to the point that it was almost unrecognizable as a gun. Yeah, Dean made a mental note to not let that holy oil stuff anywhere near his skin.

"I don't know exactly what you boys were going for," Ellen said, "but I'm going to go ahead and call this one a success."

Dean nodded. "I can tell you one thing," he said, and then grinned. "The demons sure as hell won't be opening that Gate anytime soon."

They left the Roadhouse about noon the next day. Between the hugs from Ellen and Jo and the fist bumps and high fives from Ash, it was almost fifteen minutes before they actually made it outside.

"Keys," Dean said firmly as soon as they made it out the door, turning to Sam and holding out his hand.

Sam nodded and pulled them out of his pocket. He'd snagged them off of Dean at the beginning of their binge drinking last night, since it wasn't like this would've been the first time that Dean tried to drive off while hammered, and Sam had long since learned that it was better to be proactive. Now, though, Dean looked fine, and not even terribly hungover. So Sam tossed them over to his brother, who caught it with one hand and headed for the Impala.

Lily was waiting for them when they got there.

She was sitting on the hood of the car, gloved hand fidgeting in her lap. Sam saw Dean's mouth open, ready to be angry about her sitting there and possibly scuffing up the hood, so he hurried to speak before Dean got the chance. "Hey," he said causally, stepping forward and leaning against the side of the Impala beside her while Dean and Cas hung back. "I was starting to think you weren't going to come see us off."

"Why would I?" she snapped, almost before the words were fully out of Sam's mouth.

He just shrugged. "Well, you're here, aren't you?" he said. "Clearly you've gotta have a reason."

Her scowl was the only response he got.

"What are you going to do next?" Sam asked, after the silence had stretched on for a minute. She looked at him like he was an idiot, so he hurried to add, "I mean, I know that you're staying here for now, and Ellen's going to talk to you more about hunting. But… I don't know, have you thought about what you're going to do?"

He still wasn't phrasing it well, and he knew it. It was okay, though. He was pretty sure that she got his meaning, because she crossed her good arm over her chest and looked away. "I don't know."

"You have the hex bag that we gave you?" Sam asked.

She nodded. "And I remember how to do the devil's trap. And the banishing sigils." Her lips pulled up in something that almost resembled a smile. It was hard to call it that, though, when it didn't touch the rest of her face. "Nothing's going to be able to track me down, and if they do, then I'll be good."

Sam just nodded, not saying anything. Lily still looked uncomfortable, glancing around like she didn't know where to look. Though when Sam followed her gaze, he realized that she was looking over at Dean and Cas, who had both backed up farther than they needed to just to avoid being touched. They were at least fifteen feet away, and looked like they were deep in conversation, or at least faking it well. Giving the two of them privacy, Sam realized.

"I might try Internet dating," Lily suddenly blurted, then looked like she hadn't known why she'd just said that. Even so, she shrugged and awkwardly continued, "I mean, it's not perfect or anything, but it's not like I can hurt a girl if she's on the other side of a computer screen, so that seems like the way to go."

"Sounds like a good idea," Sam said, and smiled as encouragingly as he could. Not that it did a whole lot of good, since Lily didn't even glance at him.

"Yeah, well," she said, and shrugged again. Now, her eyes were locked on the ground. "The point is, I'm not going to let this thing stop me. Or, I'm going to try not to, at least."

"Good," Sam said, and hesitated, then reached over to squeeze her good shoulder. "I'm glad, Lily. Honestly, I am."

"Thanks," she muttered, slowly lifting her head to finally look up at him. Her lips twitched, and this time, the smile looked slightly more genuine.

Then, without warning, she suddenly threw herself forward and wrapped her arms around him. And honestly, that hadn't been what he had been expecting, but he still only hesitated for a moment before hugging her back.

Her good arm squeezed him tight. She rose onto her tiptoes, which made her just tall enough to rest her head on his shoulder, burying her face in his neck. It felt strangely intimate, almost uncomfortably so. But at the same time, it wasn't at all. Mainly because he got the feeling that it wasn't really him that she was hugging – more like she just wanted to hug a person, and who it was didn't actually matter.

He could only imagine how long it'd been since she'd gotten to hold someone like this, so he didn't pull back. Instead, he just held her back just as tightly, even as the seconds passed, to the point where it was starting to stretch on for way too long. Then she abruptly dropped her arm and stepped back, and he let her go, pretending that he didn't notice that her eyes were wet.

"Thanks, Sam," she said in a low voice, and cleared her throat. "Just, keep in touch, okay? Come back to visit?"

He still wasn't sure if she was asking because she wanted to see him again, or if she just wanted to see anyone that she was capable of touching. He didn't ask, though. Either way, it didn't seem to matter. So instead, he just nodded, and promised, "I will."

She smiled tightly, then turned and ran off, not looking back until the Roadhouse door was swinging shut behind her.

It was only a few more seconds before Dean and Cas rejoined Sam by the Impala. "You ready to go?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," Sam said quickly, turning to heading to the passenger seat. "Let's go."

They were at least twenty miles down the road before Dean bothered to look over at the two of them and ask, "So, where do you guys want to go, anyway?"

Sam just shrugged. Honestly, it didn't really matter to him where they headed now. He wouldn't even have had a problem with staying at the Roadhouse for a little longer, if it wasn't for the fact that Dean was obvious eager to get back on the road. Although, Sam was pretty sure that Dean didn't have any preferences, either, or even any real reason for wanting to leave so soon. But considering that the traffic yesterday had forced them to slow to a crawl for pretty much the whole drive, Sam'd say that Dean would be fine with any destination as long as he got to push the speedometer up to ninety on the way there.

Besides, they didn't have a case yet, which meant that there was no place that they had to be anytime soon. Sam had made a halfhearted glance at the news headlines this morning, just in case anything seemed fishy, but they'd all seemed clean. Or, at least, it looked like all of the crimes had been committed by humans.

He could've looked harder, and probably found something for them to hunt. He hadn't, though. After everything that'd gone down, he was pretty sure that they'd earned a vacation, and he planned on making sure that they got one.

Considering that Sam didn't have a preference, and Dean clearly didn't care, either, it made sense that Cas was the one who spoke up.

"I want to go buy some better-fitting clothes," he said, tugging on the collar of his shirt to show what he meant.

Sam nodded. They'd had a few days to pick up some more clothes while Cas was still recovering from his bullet wound, so at least they had more options than they'd first had to leave their stuff behind. But considering that Cas had been too weak to shop and Dean had flatly refused to leave Cas' bedside for a moment, Sam had had to guess at the sizes. He hadn't done that good of a job. The stuff he'd bought for Dean fit more or less okay, but he'd figured that it was better to err on the side of getting clothes that were too big instead of too small. Cas looked like a skeleton with his shirt hanging off of him like that.

"Yeah," Dean said, using the rearview mirror to check Cas out. "Yeah, I'd say you definitely need some new stuff."

Cas nodded, then added firmly, "And I want to get a new trench coat. You bled on my last one."

"Hey," Dean protested, sounding completely offended even though he was smiling. "It wasn't like that was my fault!"

"I know," Cas said simply. "But I still need a new one. Or possibly more than one. I've been going through them at an alarming rate, it might be smarter to stock up."

Dean laughed at that, and shook his head. "Okay, buddy," he said after a moment, grinning at Cas in the rearview mirror again. "Let's go get you as many trench coats as you want."

Apparently Cas had been serious about the trench coat thing. He picked out seven of them.

"We've already established that they don't last very long before they get ruined somehow," Cas insisted, piling them all onto one of his arms. "It makes more sense to buy multiple of them, so that we don't have to return to the store after every case to find a new one." He must have seen that Dean still wasn't convinced, because he added, "You aren't using your own money, so it shouldn't matter how many I buy."

Okay, Dean wasn't about to argue with that logic. Besides, Cas looked so freakin' happy, clutching that whole pile of coats to his chest. It was thick enough that he could barely hold all of them in his arms, but he still managed to hug them like they were some kind of stuffed animal – or maybe a baby blanket would be a better comparison. Either way, it was really, stupidly adorable, and there was no way that Dean was going to say no to that face. If he didn't know better, he'd say that Sam had been giving Cas secret lessons in how to do the puppy dog eyes while Dean wasn't around.

Hell, maybe Sam actually had done that. Dean wasn't sure if that'd even surprise him at this point.

"Fine," he said, but he made sure to use a long-suffering voice when he said it, to make sure that Cas knew exactly how ridiculous this was. "Or you could just get one and be careful to keep it clean," Dean couldn't help but add as he watched Cas pile them all into the cart.

Cas looked up at him, eyes narrowed slightly. "Very good point," he said, voice flat. "I will remember that the next time that I'm being stabbed by a psychopath or holding your bleeding body while we race to the hospital."

"Okay, fine," Dean said, holding up his hands. "Point taken. Now come on, I wanna grab a couple more tee shirts."

Sam was over at the other side of the store, going through some section that had the largest selection of plaid that Dean had ever seen. And Dean was definitely tempted to go over there and make a joke about how that place must be Sam's wet dream come to life, except it was actually pretty convenient, having all of it in one place. Definitely made it easier to find stuff to buy. And he was probably going to end up picking out most of his clothes from that section, so he figured he'd better hold off on the jokes.

"Dean," Cas suddenly said, as Dean was grabbing a gray tee shirt off the pile and tossing it into the cart. His voice was suddenly a million times more serious than it had been a minute earlier.

"God," Dean groaned, and shook his head, because that kind of voice could never mean anything good. "What is it this time?"

When he turned back around, Cas was watching him with a confused frown on his face. "I was only going to make sure that you knew that I had heard your prayers during the battle against Azazel and Naomi."

Now it was Dean's turn to get all confused. "Well, yeah," he said. "That was kind of the point, wasn't it? I wouldn't have been praying to you if I hadn't wanted you to hear it." And from what he'd heard of the battle, he was pretty sure that that was what saved his life. He might not have made it if Cas hadn't been able to find him so easily. Or, okay, Sam might've had more to do with that one, since he'd been the one to actually carry Dean away and all. Still, though, he was sure that the praying had been a pretty damn good decision.

"Yes," Cas said at once. "And I'm very glad that you did. It was reassuring to be able to tell that you were still alive and uninjured, and it allowed me to know immediately when that was no longer the case."

"...Okay," Dean said after a moment of Cas not adding anything more. "Then what's the point of bringing this all up?"

Cas hesitated for only a moment longer, then said, "I wanted to make sure that you remembered what praying entailed, and what it allows angels to do." Dean's face must've looked pretty blank, because Cas added, "It's a direct link from your soul to the angel you pray to – in this case, me. It was how the angels realized who I really was, because they were able to look directly at my soul." He hesitated for another moment, then finished, "I wanted to make sure that you hadn't accidentally taken part in a more... intimate method of communication than you'd counted on."

Dean's mouth suddenly felt dry. "You can do that?" he asked. "Even without your grace, or whatever? You can still see into my soul?"

Cas frowned, then slowly nodded once.

Dean swallowed hard, and nodded back. He didn't look at Cas right then – for absolutely no reason, since he didn't freakin' have a clue why he was so embarrassed – but he said, "That's fine. I mean, I don't have any problem with you seeing it, or whatever."

He still wasn't looking at Cas, but even so, he could tell that Cas was smiling as he stepped closer. "Thank you," he said. His voice was soft, and so was his hand when he placed it on Dean's shoulder. "I consider it an honor that you trust me with looking at your soul. It was-"

Dean cut him off quickly, shaking his head hard. "No way," he said. "I mean, you can look at it, and that's fine, but don't start describing it to me or anything. I don't want to hear anything about what my soul's like, okay?" Mostly because he could just picture how messed up it'd looked. Especially since it'd technically belonged to Azazel the whole time that Cas had been looking at it, but also because- Well, just because it was his soul, and there was no way that it hadn't taken some damage over the years, even without the fact that he'd sold it to a demon. And sure, he could live with the fact that Cas had seen it, since it wasn't like there was any other choice. But hearing about it would definitely be crossing the line, and would just make it all a whole lot worse.

Cas was silent for a long time, long enough that Dean finally had to give in and look over at him, just to figure out what the hell the dude was thinking.

The moment that he turned his head, Cas' hands moved to cup the sides of his face, and then Cas' lips were pressed against his own. Not hard – they were still in public, after all, and even Cas seemed to have caught on to the fact that two guys shouldn't make out in the middle of a store. Instead, it was light, almost sweet.

"Beautiful," Cas whispered, and Dean could feel Cas' lips move against his own as he spoke. "That's how I was going to describe your soul. Beautiful."

It was early morning only a couple days later when Cas slipped out of bed. They were once again back to buying two motel rooms for the three of them, which meant that Cas only had to take care not to wake Dean as he moved about the room, dressing himself. He ran one hand through his hair, then decided that he didn't care enough to go brush it right then, nor did he feel like going to shave the stubble that had grown on his face since the previous morning.

Instead, he pulled his new trench coat tight around his form, and took one last look at Dean, who was still lying asleep in bed. He was curled up around his pillow now that Cas was no longer there for him to hug, and though Dean always said that he only needed four hours of sleep, Cas knew that he would always sleep in late if given the chance. He would not wake in time to notice Cas' absence.

Cas smiled, then left the motel.

He wasn't entirely sure why he felt the need to do this in private. Part of it was that it simply felt too personal to share with anyone else, not even Dean. And it a problem that he had caused, which meant that he had to be the one to solve it, not the Winchesters.

More than that, part of him worried that he would turn out to be wrong. And if he was, he wanted to be alone when he found out.

All in all, this felt like something that had to be done alone.

It was still summer, which meant that the morning air was warm, almost too warm for him to actually be wearing his trench coat. He ignored that, though, and even hugged the coat closer to him, like a child with a security blanket. He didn't exactly relish the idea of comparing himself to a child, but Dean had said that to him once, and Cas had to admit, the comparison felt accurate.

He hesitated for a long time, not quite wanting to say it. Then he took a breath, and closed his eyes, then said aloud, "Balthazar."

He waited for a response, but he didn't receive one. Not immediately, in any case.

"Balthazar," he repeated, slightly louder this time, as though that would make any difference. "I know you, Balthazar. You have been planning on running away for as long as I've known you, even if I've never been certain whether you truly would or not. But you are one of the best warriors I've fought with, and one of the smartest. I know that you didn't really die in that battle."

Cas held his breath, waiting.

"Oh, come off it," a voice suddenly said from behind him, and Cas spun around, in time to see a man standing behind him and rolling his eyes. "There is no way that you could have actually known that."

Cas smiled, relief suddenly flooding through him. "No," he admitted. "I wasn't certain that you had survived. But I hoped."

"Well, that's flattering," Balthazar said. The vessel he wore now was blonde, and had a distinct French accent. It was also older than Cas was now – older than most of the vessels that the angels chose. Cas couldn't help but wonder whether this was the only vessel available to him, or if he'd chosen it specifically to avoid suspicion. "Now tell me, what do you want now? Don't tell me that you're calling me out of hiding just for a chat."

Cas shook his head, and pulled Balthazar's angel blade from the pocket of his coat. For a split second, he thought that he saw Balthazar tense up, but Cas just offered it to him, handle first. "You left this on the battlefield," he said. "I know that you must have done it to make your death seem more realistic, but I thought that you would want it back."

Balthazar smiled. "Thank you," he said, taking the blade and carefully tucking it away. Then he pulled out another blade and held it out. "I'll offer you a trade," he said. "I picked that one up off of one of Naomi's henchmen, but I like mine so much better. And there's no point in me carrying around two, is there? Especially since I've already stocked up on more than I could ever need."

Cas' smile widened as he took the blade. "Thank you, brother," he said. He had his own blade back now, but still, this would be useful. It would give Sam and Dean something to wield, in case it was ever necessary to kill a demon or fight against an angel again.

"Now, come on," Balthazar urged. "What is it? And don't say that you just want the joy of my company, or to return my blade, because I know you, Castiel. I know that look in your eyes. You want to ask me something, don't you?"

Cas hesitated, but he really couldn't deny that that was true. Instead, he simply nodded, and decided to come right out with it. "I want you to sneak me into Heaven."

Balthazar spluttered, looking honestly caught off guard, which was not a look that Cas saw from him often. "Excuse me?" he asked. "Have you been listening to the angels at all lately?"

Cas shook his head. "The block that Naomi put in my mind is still in place," he said. "With her dead, it would potentially be possible to remove it, but I decided not to. This isn't my fight any longer, brother. I don't want to be involved any more than I have to me."

Balthazar hummed, making a small noise of agreement. "In that case, let me assure you that it is utter chaos upstairs. Hester's army is holding their own well enough, but still, we'd have a better chance of surviving tea at Luci's place than of making it through Heaven unscathed."

"Not if we used the back entrances," Cas argued. "Not if they never discovered that we were there."

Balthazar couldn't argue with that, and based on the sour look on his face, he realized it, too. "Okay," he finally acknowledged. "So it would be possible to potentially make it through without them even finding us. So what? It'd still be taking a huge risk, and might I remind you that I've already done my part for your little rebellion. More than my part, actually. I don't owe you anything more, and I'm not about to risk my life so soon after I faked my death."

Cas immediately shook his head. "You never owed me anything at all, Balthazar," he said. "And I won't ask you for anything more than what you're willing to do." He hesitated, then said, "I asked Hester for the same favor, and she also refused. She said that it would be too dangerous." That had been a different situation, though. He had asked the question right after they'd spoken about her decision to join his side, while he'd been escorting her out of the diner. Back then, Naomi had still had full control, and Cas had been a wanted fugitive. With Naomi gone, and a war underway, Cas was hoping that things would be different enough to make this possible.

"Surely the battles aren't affecting the humans' individual Heavens?" he asked. He couldn't imagine any angel – even Naomi's followers – being cruel enough to let their fighting affect the humans who were supposed to be at peace.

Balthazar frowned. "Is that where you want to go?" Cas nodded, and Balthazar hesitated for a moment, then said, "No, the wars haven't touched those. Not yet, at least, and hopefully they never will." He was silent for another minute, then said, "Alright, there may be a way to get through them without any of the other angels seeing us. After all, with everything that's been going on, it's not like anyone's been watching them too closely. All of the angels are too focused on the battlefield to go looking anywhere else."

That was exactly what Cas had wanted to hear.

"Thank you," he said, reaching out and clasping Balthazar's hand in both of his own. "Really, brother, thank you. You've done too much for me already. I can't even tell you how grateful I am."

"I haven't exactly agreed," Balthazar protested, and narrowed his eyes at Cas for another few seconds before sighing and shaking his head. "Okay, fine, you win. We'll try this."

"Thank you," Cas repeated.

Balthazar just shook his head again. "Why do you need to sneak into some human's Heaven, anyway?" he asked.

Cas hesitated, biting his lip for a moment before saying, "Personal reasons." That wasn't a good answer, though, and he knew it. And considering how much Balthazar was doing for him, he deserved to know more than that. So Cas took a deep breath, and said, "There's someone that I need to speak to. To thank him, mostly." Another pause, and then- "And to tell him how deeply sorry I am."

Balthazar still didn't look like he completely understood, but he nodded. "Alright, then," he said, and held out his arm for Cas to hold onto while they transported. "Let's get going, then."

And despite everything – despite the fact that he had been the one to insist on this – it still took everything in Cas to force himself to reach out to take Balthazar's arm. The majority of him wanted to say that he had changed his mind, and to turn and scramble back to bed and simply lie with Dean. He couldn't, though. So instead, he made himself take hold of Balthazar, and nod.

"Yes," he agreed, quiet enough that he couldn't quite hear his own voice. "Let's go."

Jimmy Novak's Heaven was tranquil.

It was the only word for it, Cas thought, looking around at the bright green grass and vibrantly blue sky. Many humans had Heavens that appeared far more beautiful than the area had been in real life – after all, the point of Heaven was to enhance one's best memories. Still, though, as Cas looked at the rows of flowers blooming around the perimeter of the large white house, he couldn't help but think that this was one of the more beautiful Heavens that he had ever seen.

Jimmy was in the backyard, sitting on one of the porch steps. For a moment, Cas was frozen, simply staring at him. Jimmy looked to be a few years younger than Cas' body was now, and the Claire by his side couldn't be older than four or five. She was cuddled up beside her father, her arms around his waist and her cheek pressed against his chest, staring at the picture book that he held in his lap.

It wasn't truly Claire, of course. The real Claire was still alive, and even if she was not, it was unlikely that her father was her soulmate. That meant that once she died, she would receive her own Heaven instead of joining her father in this one. Instead, this Claire was simply one of Jimmy's memories, replayed now for all of eternity.

Cas knew that he should just hurry and step forward, to go speak to Jimmy as he had come here to do. He couldn't bring himself to move, though, and instead just stood frozen, staring.

As he watched, Amelia Novak walked out of the back door. She paused in the doorway for a single moment, giving her husband a soft smile that he turned his head just in time to see. Then she pushed the door closed and sat down on Claire's other side. Her arm reached out to wrap around Jimmy, cuddling their daughter between them. Jimmy smiled over at the two of them, and for an instant, Cas was struck by the fact that this gesture looked nothing like the ones that he had seen in the mirror, even though they both used the same body.

Claire moved to lean her head against her mother's chest instead, and Jimmy turned back to the book in his lap, continuing to read.

Cas could hear the words now. It was a book of prayers. The current page showed an angel, clad in white light, while the words on the page asked for the angels to always be at their side.

"He doesn't realize that he's dead, does he?" Cas asked softly.

"No," Balthazar agreed, "he doesn't. But you're going to tell him, aren't you?"

"Yes," Cas said, but he still didn't move.

"You know that there's no going back from something like that," Balthazar said. His voice was casual enough, not carrying any hidden warnings, more like he was just sharing information. "Most souls never realize that they're dead, but once they do- Well, some people are happy to know that they're in Heaven, even when they realize that nothing around them is technically real. Others-"

He didn't have to continue. Cas was already nodding. He had spent enough time in Heaven to know that some human souls couldn't adapt to the idea that they were dead. It was the reason why most humans' Heavens were realistic enough that they never realized the truth.

"I'd planned on asking him if he had any last words," Cas said. "Anything that he wanted to say to his wife and daughter, if he could send them one last message."

Based on the look on Balthazar's face, he was barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes, as if he didn't think that it was worth sneaking into Heaven just for this. "Now, that's all very noble and all," he said, then gestured toward Jimmy, "but why would he give them one last message when he thinks that they're right there with him?"

Because those were not really his family members, Cas wanted to say. Because his real wife and daughter were still on Earth, missing him and wondering where he might be. Because just based on what his Heaven entailed, Cas knew that Jimmy was the type of man who would want to do anything to comfort his family, if he could.

But then, if Jimmy was happy here, did it matter if it wasn't real?

"If I speak to him now, he might never be able to accept the fact that he's dead," Cas said, more to himself then to Balthazar, though he could see that his brother was listening.

"True," Balthazar agreed, in a voice that made it seem as though he wasn't terribly worried about that prospect. Then again, Cas hadn't expected him to be.

For a long minute, neither of them said anything.

"Do you still want to speak to him?" Balthazar finally asked, with a wide sweep of his hand in Jimmy's general direction.

Cas hesitated, and bit his lip, but-

"No," he said slowly. "No, I don't think that I should." He swallowed, and said, "Take me home, please."

Cas' mood was subdued as Balthazar set him down on the sidewalk outside of the motel. It was still early enough in the morning that there was nobody around to see them suddenly appear out of nowhere, which was fortunate, because Cas wasn't entirely sure if Balthazar was paying attention to those things.

"Look at it this way," Balthazar said. "At least you know he's in a good Heaven, right? He's happy and all that. That must count for something."

"Yes," Cas agreed. That was good to know, at least, even if it was a small comfort. Jimmy was happy, at least, but that would do nothing for his wife or daughter, and they were the ones that Cas mainly worried about.

Balthazar must have been able to read that off of Cas' face, because he said, "You know that humans can receive money off of their spouse's deaths?" Cas frowned, not comprehending, and Balthazar made a face and added, "I know, sounds terribly morbid to me, but there you go. It's an insurance thing. But I'm sure that they could use it, what with having a child and all. And anyway, it might give them some closure. As much closure as they're ever likely to get, at least."

Cas stared at his friend, finally understanding. "And do you think that you-"

"Please," Balthazar scoffed, before Cas could even ask. "I convinced everyone in Heaven that I'm dead. I think I can handle faking the death of a pesky little human, even if you're going to keep walking around in his vessel."

"Thank you," Cas said, and only paused for a moment before he reached out to embrace Balthazar. "Thank you, brother."

Balthazar shrugged somewhat awkwardly. "Yes, well," he said. "It will at least give me something to do in between deciding which orgy I want to join in on next."

Cas frowned, and stepped back. He didn't want to get upset with Balthazar, not after his brother had just helped him so much, but he couldn't help but say, "Your vessel-"

Balthazar cut off that thought completely. "Please, he loves it," he said. "The last three were his ideas, actually. And wonderful ideas they were, too." He smirked, then shook his head, and snorted. "Why do you think that I chose this man? This is the most fun he's ever had in his life."

Cas nodded. "I just had to be sure."

Balthazar waved one hand, waving that off. "Whatever you say, brother," he said. "Now, if there's nothing else that you want to talk me into doing for you?"

Cas shook his head, and Balthazar smiled at him for one more instant before disappearing completely.

Based on how light the sky was, Cas estimated that at least half an hour had passed on Earth since he had disappeared, maybe slightly longer. He doubted that Dean had woken up at all in that time, but still, he should go make sure that he was in the motel when Dean finally did wake. He didn't want Dean to worry at all, and his missing presence would definitely be enough to cause worry.

Still, though, he waited another moment, staring at the place where Balthazar had disappeared.

He trusted his brother to keep his word. Despite how it may seem, he had always been loyal – to Cas, if to nobody else but himself. If he said that he would fake Jimmy's death, then that would be what he would do, and Cas trusted him to do it well.

Amelia would receive money, to help her with giving Claire whatever a girl her age might need. And Claire and Amelia would have some answers, at least. Maybe not all of them, but at least they would know for sure that Jimmy Novak was never coming back. They wouldn't be waiting for him any longer. Hopefully, they would be able to move on.

It didn't feel like enough. But then, Cas knew that nothing ever could be. He had taken their father and husband from them, and no repayment could ever come close to making that right.

But it was the best that he could do.

He only hesitated another moment, and then turned and returned to the motel room.

Dean was still sleeping soundly, just as Cas had hoped that he would be. Cas carefully slipped back into bed beside him, scooting closer until he could wrap his arms around Dean's body and hold him close. Dean didn't wake, but he did sigh softly, and Cas swore that he could even feel Dean relax against him.

Cas smiled slightly, then closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Dean's back, focusing on Dean's breathing to block out his thoughts.

It felt wrong to benefit from another family's loss, but even so, Cas couldn't help but feel as though he would've done anything to get him right here, to this moment, in this body, with Dean.

"Cas?" Dean asked, his voice slow from sleep, and turned to look over his shoulder at him.

"Shhh," Cas urged, and pressed a soft kiss to the back of Dean's neck. "I'm here. Go back to sleep."

Dean nodded, and he must have still been only partially awake, because he immediately laid his head back on the pillow to do exactly that. "Great plan," he muttered, his voice slurred slightly, and barely loud enough for Cas to hear him. Then- "Love ya, Cas."

Dean had said those words out loud only once before. Cas had known it before then, of course. And if he had ever doubted it, his doubts would have dissipated the moment that he had heard Dean's prayers, and felt his soul. Still, though, Cas had to admit that he liked hearing the words, even if Dean was only admitting it out loud because he was half asleep and not thinking well enough to censor what he said.

Cas couldn't stop the grin from spouting on his face, and leaned forward to press another kiss, this one against the back of Dean's shoulder. "I love you, too, Dean Winchester," he said, in a fierce voice that he hoped left no doubt to the fact that it was true.

Dean made a soft, happy noise, and shuffled backward to move himself closer to Cas. Cas' smile grew, and he pulled Dean against his chest.

This was what he had rebelled for, Cas realized with sudden clarity. This man in his arms. But still, when Cas had made the choice to turn against what Heaven and Naomi wished him to be, he had had no way of knowing that it would lead to this moment here, the two of them tangled in bed together, Dean hogging both the pillows and the blankets. He had wanted to save the Righteous Man from Hell, nothing more. He had no idea that he would also save himself.

It was worth it. Of course it was worth it, since Dean still lived, and had his own soul. But more than that, Cas thought that he would redo all of the risks, turn against Naomi yet again if she were still alive, all for one second of lying with Dean this way.

And he would be able to do this an unknowable number of times, he realized. Every day for the rest of their lives, and maybe longer, if he was human enough to go to Heaven when he died. Or maybe he would be angelic enough that he would be able to enter Heaven while he was still not yet dead, and would seek out Dean's Heaven in that way. Either way, Cas would find a way. He was not prepared to face an eternity without Dean Winchester in it.

There was no point in continuing with those thoughts, though. They had decades still before they needed to worry about death, now that the angels and demons were no longer on their tail.

He knew that someday Dean would die, and Cas would have to find a way to unite with him again. There would be more monsters to fight, and more wars to wage. Cas was sure of it. And they would face the problems when they came, together. But for now, Cas just smiled, and slowly allowed his own eyes to once again drift closed, comforted by the sound and feel of Dean's steady breathing.

"I love you, Dean," he repeated once more before he drifted off completely, content in the knowledge that he would be able to say it again when he woke up, and for every day afterward.

He could think of nothing in the universe that could make him happier.