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Chapter 5

There had been many moments throughout human history when Castiel had remained in a stationary, watchful stance. After God had created the earth, Castiel had flown down from Heaven to alight on the highest mountain where he could take in the glory of his father's work. For days he had stood on that peak, drinking in the beauty of the planet. Then after God had made humans, Castiel's curiosity had driven him to take up perches above villages, simply to observe. Of course, the novelty had eventually worn off—particularly after his superiors' constant badgering that Castiel focus on his duty rather than the 'hairless apes.' Yet even as a solider of Heaven, he was used to standing by while rigidly awaiting orders.

His current situation of inactivity, however, was proving exhausting, both mentally and physically. Lucifer had visited a few more times, each instance forcing his way into Castiel's mind and scouring his memories as one would flip through a book. Every time, Castiel managed to protect any knowledge about the Winchesters, but then, Lucifer never seemed interested in that anyway.

The archangel hadn't called up memories of Castiel's re-education again, which Castiel supposed was a mercy, and the gratefulness he felt for it galled him. Really, Lucifer wasn't hurting him. He just kept going further back, all the way to the dawn of mankind when Heaven was in an uproar, Lucifer against Michael. The fights they'd engaged in had been terrible, shaking the foundations of Heaven itself. Castiel remembered cowering in fear one day in the great hall while Lucifer and Michael duked it out. Archangel power was terrible when unleashed, violent and unbridled like a hurricane. They could have easily killed a lesser angel by accident that day.

In truth, Castiel didn't remember that time period too clearly for some reason. He wondered if Lucifer was manipulating his mind somehow, constructing images that weren't accurate. And yet, it wasn't as though the archangel was trying to paint himself the righteous victim; oh, he had his temper. But Lucifer had spent a great deal of time focusing on Michael and Raphael, highlighting their abhorrent behavior. The Devil picked through Castiel's memory, stirring up long-forgotten encounters with the ruling archangels and their loyal subordinates. Some of the things his brothers did to one another in the name of Heaven, under orders…it was cruel and base. Castiel had never met God, but he was beginning to see that his father had been absent a great deal longer than he'd realized. And the more Castiel watched his family and the home he loved fall into ruin, the more confused and shaken his torn heart became.

In the times between Lucifer's visits, Castiel tugged against the chains until his wrists bled, but they never budged. Neither could he a spot a weakness in this stone alcove he might exploit. Castiel wondered if Sam was being held in the same facility. Lucifer's presence suggested that he must be, for Castiel doubted Satan would want to be far from his vessel. Castiel couldn't imagine what Lucifer was doing to the young Winchester, the similar mind games he must be playing. As an angel, he needed permission to possess Sam, but the methods Lucifer might employ to gain such acquiescence worried Castiel. He prayed Sam was strong enough to resist, even as he realized that no one could endure forever. And rescue was highly unlikely. In a way, Castiel almost craved Lucifer's attention, because whenever he saw Nick's vessel, it meant Sam was still safe.

It had actually been a while since Lucifer's last visit, during which the archangel had replayed Gabriel's death, focusing on Castiel's grief at losing another beloved brother. Castiel hadn't meant to, but the memory stirred up a flash of a warehouse in Ohio and the Winchesters facing down the Trickster, aka Gabriel. That was the first time Lucifer had let his mask slip, and Castiel caught a mix of surprise, relief, and anger boiling underneath. Lucifer had abruptly ceased their 'session' and hadn't returned since.

Castiel yanked on the manacles once more, wincing as the metal edges bit into raw, ragged skin. He wished he could do something. He was unaccustomed to feeling helpless like this, and it chafed his spirit as much as the iron shackles did his wrists.

A scuff drew his attention to the archway, and he tensed as two men sauntered in. Their smirking lips and predatory miens accentuated the demons' true faces that Castiel could see underneath—blackened husks with bottomless eyes void of any light or purity. They split apart and began to stalk around the chained angel.

"Poor little bird in a cage," one of them sneered, a brawny man with a beard that almost reminded Castiel of the Winchester's friend, Bobby. "Will you sing for us?"

"Yeah," the second chimed. He was shorter in stature, but the feral gleam in his eyes was no less dangerous. Slowly, he reached into his jacket and withdrew a silver short-sword with a small, circular cross-guard between the blade and grip. With a flicker of unease, Castiel recognized his angel blade. Lucifer must have confiscated it.

The demon licked his lips, rotating the sword between his fingers. "I bet we can get all kinds of fun sounds from it."

Castiel glowered, gaze flicking back and forth between them as they edged closer. He would not show these vermin fear.

They skirted around the sides, so even if Castiel wanted to, he wouldn't be able to pull the same move he had on Meg. Maybe this was her revenge, though she struck him as the type to do things herself.

The scrawny demon sidled up to him and placed the edge of the angel blade across his throat. Castiel held himself rigid, forcing a stoic facade.

"Now don't be shy, little bird."

"Maybe we can get 'im to show us the wings," the other said, hemming Castiel in on the other side. Hot breath tickled his ear, and the caustic whiff of brimstone made him want to gag. "I've never played with feathers before."

"Go. To. Hell," he ground out. It seemed an appropriate response, yet the feeble retort fell awkwardly from Castiel's mouth.

The demon with the knife grinned. "Already been. Love it." He dragged the blade slowly across Castiel's neck, nicking a shallow crevice through skin. Castiel clenched his jaw against the urge to make a sound as his grace flared under the assault. He braced himself for another onslaught of pain, but then a cold voice spoke from the entrance, heavy with menace that sent chills down Castiel's spine.

"What did I say?"

The demons hastily jumped back, putting a good two feet between them and Castiel. Lucifer stepped into the alcove, and even the shadows seemed to cower at his presence. His minacious aura wafted off him in palpable, menacing ripples that made the two demons shuffle their feet and exchange nervous glances. Castiel was actually relieved such wrath was not currently directed toward him, but the reassurance he felt at seeing Lucifer as his would-be savior also twisted his stomach into knots.

"We're sorry, my lord," the stockier man bumbled, ducking his head reverently.

"We just thought, since he ain't cooperating…"

Lucifer snapped his fingers, and the scraggy demon blew apart in a cloud of blood and tissue. Bone fragments splattered across the floor and the bottom of Castiel's pant legs, but he'd mostly been shielded by the first demon, who was now coated in ichor. The angel blade the other demon had been holding flung through the air to clatter in a dark corner.

Lucifer turned toward the remaining demon, expression far too calm that mismatched the waves of wrath emanating from the archangel. "Get a hose and clean this up."

Bobbing his head frantically, the minion scrambled out of the alcove to do as told. Lucifer roved his gaze over the smattering of gore in mild consideration, and then shifted to approach Castiel. "I see some new disciplinary measures need to be put into place," he said conversationally.

Castiel didn't say anything. It was strange that Lucifer had declared him off-limits to the demons. He was a prisoner, and yet not being horribly mistreated…really, his time in Heaven had been far worse. And again, that thread of gratitude toward Lucifer that snaked through him left Castiel with an uncomfortable niggle in the back of his mind.

When Lucifer stepped closer, he flinched instinctively, braced for another invasion into his memories. The archangel's eyes twinkled with a hint of amusement. "I think we can skip the trip down memory lane this time, Castiel. I know it's been difficult for you to relive them."

Castiel couldn't help the snort that escaped his throat. He jingled the manacles pointedly. "You are not concerned about my comfort."

"That's not entirely true," Lucifer countered, wagging a finger at him. "You're my brother. I would love nothing more than for you to join me. What I've been doing has been to help you see the truth, Castiel. The truth about Heaven." He leaned a shoulder against the column and crossed his arms casually, so close that Castiel had to turn his head to meet the Devil's gaze.

"I'm aware of how corrupt Heaven has become," he ground out. After all, that was why he'd rebelled, because he believed in humanity's free will, just as God had ordained. Angels had no right to manipulate people the way they did. And neither did Lucifer.

"Then why not stand with me?"

Castiel tilted his head to the side. "Because you are equally deplorable."

"According to Heaven. Think about it, Castiel, why you're resisting so strongly—it's what Heaven trained you to do. But you already know they've been wrong about things before. Like Sam."

"You are nothing like Sam Winchester."

Lucifer shrugged and finally moved away from the pillar. "When are you going to accept that you have nothing to lose and everything to gain by joining me? What are you truly standing for here?"

"Humanity—"

"Is a disease. You've seen it, Castiel, seen what those vile, murderous wretches are capable of. Why should their suffering continue?"

"There's good in them," Castiel protested, but it came out weak as snippets from his correction stint in Heaven leaked through to haunt his conscious mind again.

Lucifer sighed with thinning patience. "The humans will be destroyed one way or another. Even Heaven has agreed with that. You need to choose a side, Castiel. Heaven will never take you back, so you might as well come over to my team."

Castiel lifted his chin staunchly. "No. I choose…door number three." That seemed like something Dean would say. Castiel thought it strange that a small part of him wished the older Winchester was there to confirm whether he'd gotten the colloquialism right. In the grand scheme of his current predicament, it didn't really matter.

Lucifer arched a brow. "And what, exactly, is your other option?"

"God."

Lucifer laughed. "Ah yes, your search for dear old dad. That's rather cute, how you think God's going to intervene here."

Castiel drew his shoulders back. "When I find him—"

"You won't. Don't you get it, Castiel? God doesn't care what happens."

"No." Castiel shook his head forcefully. "God put you in the cage."

"Yes," Lucifer said simply. "And he let me out. Set up the board like dominoes." The Devil walked his fingers through the air. "Sure, Dad gave me a timeout, but he obviously realized that his new favorite toys weren't going to stay pretty and shiny forever. Someone would have to clean up the mess humanity made. But he's too much of a softie to wipe them out himself. I mean, look at the Flood. One pious man pops up, and suddenly Dad's drawing schematics for an ark to save this guy and his family. And then the cycle starts all over."

Castiel stared at him dubiously. "You mock God's mercy."

"Is it mercy to let their filth and depravity continue to taint the world?"

Castiel scoffed. "It would not be worse than the world you would make."

"Or the one angels would should they win," Lucifer countered. "God's not going to choose sides, because there's no right or wrong here, Castiel. Only victor and loser."

Castiel looked away; there was no use arguing with a deranged mind.

"I do think, however," Lucifer said carefully. "That God does care about you, Castiel. He brought you back. You should see this situation for what it is: Dad's lifeboat for you."

Castiel whipped his gaze up.

"Whether you join me or not, Heaven will eventually track you down and kill you. Probably even make you suffer first. You need my protection."

Castiel rolled his shoulder, the phantom echo of a past encounter with some siblings throbbing at the base of his wing. It tore at his heart how unreservedly they'd tried to kill him, calling him a traitor who deserved to die. Even if the Winchesters succeeded in stopping the Apocalypse, Castiel would never be able to go home. He'd known, in the abstract, what he was sacrificing when he chose to help Dean stand against Zachariah. Living those consequences in actuality, however, had been more trying than he'd anticipated.

"God brought you back once, Castiel, and now he's giving you the chance to save yourself again. Join me. I'm offering you what a brother should: a place to belong. No judgment, no condemnation."

Castiel hated how those words washed over him, deceptively sweet and seductive. They struck a chord deep within his being, targeting his innermost pain and yearnings to rub them raw while also extending a balm.

No, he told himself. Lucifer had been inside his head, knew his weaknesses. And now the Devil was only trying to use them against him. But Castiel would not give in.

"That…camaraderie…you offer," he ground out slowly. "Is ephemeral, only lasting as long as you get what you want." Castiel lifted his chin and forced his voice to level out. "Besides, I have found those things…a new family…with Sam and Dean."

The word 'family' sounded heavy on his tongue, perhaps because it felt too presumptuous on his part. It was a sacred word to the Winchesters, and one they would never use for him. Yet Castiel did feel a connection to the boys. They were his charges, gave him a purpose when everything else about who he was had been stripped away.

Lucifer pursed his lips thoughtfully. "That so? Well, I hate to break it to you, 'Cas,' but Sam now knows you were the one who let him out of the panic room that night."

Castiel's blood ran cold with shame and guilt, and something in his heart cracked. How… He closed his eyes and tipped his head back. Of course, Lucifer had had full access to when Castiel had been recalled to Heaven—and the days following. Castiel's mental shields had been so focused on protecting the Winchesters' secrets that he'd failed to guard the one he himself had carried since that fateful night.

"He's grief-stricken, you know," Lucifer continued. "That kind of betrayal isn't easily forgotten. Or forgiven."

Castiel wanted to protest that he'd only been following orders, doing what he thought was right at the time. He realized later how wrong he was, and was trying to make up for it now. Sam would understand that. After all, the younger Winchester carried a similar burden.

"Dean will never forgive you either."

Those words cut to Castiel's soul and nearly rent it in two. Dean. If Dean knew what he'd done…the older Winchester would hate him. Would probably stab him again, and why did that thought fill Castiel with such anguish? Because he'd sacrificed everything for Dean? And now he would have nothing to show for it. He'd failed to stop Lucifer's rising, failed to find a way to stop the Apocalypse, and now Lucifer was right: Castiel had nothing left. Why had God brought him back at all?

Lucifer made a small clucking noise with his tongue, and placed a hand on Castiel's shoulder. He flinched under the contact, despite its uncharacteristic gentleness. "I understand it hurts, Castiel. To be cast out and abandoned by those you love, those you call family. And for only doing what you thought was best at the time? But there's no need for you to be completely alone. I can look out for you, be the older brother you always wanted. The way Dean is to Sam that he could never be for you."

Castiel squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, though it was more out of desperate denial than outright refusal. He wanted to cry out to God for deliverance, but his father had never answered his prayers, not even before he'd rebelled against Heaven. Castiel had been convinced that God was just out of range in whatever remote location he'd hidden out in, but what if the truth was God was simply ignoring him? He'd brought Castiel back from death only to cast him haphazardly to the wind. All this time, he'd been trying to follow his father's will, but what was God's will?

The grip on his shoulder squeezed, and a soft voice bathed him in the tempting promise of love and acceptance. "Castiel, brother, come home."

A/N: The reference to Lucifer's time in Heaven is derived from the story, "The Book of Gabriel," by 29-pieces-of-me, which is an awesome head canon of angels and their history. I recommend you check it out.