Here we are, a new chapter for y'all! :D
Thanks very much to Alicemurdock for again looking this chapter over while I fretted about the next one (you'll see why when you read the next one). Lovely but honest as always :)
Trouble in paradise in this chapter ;) Hope you don't get too stressed out over it! How intriguing are these new S12 promos and pics? Had to laugh at the interviews with the showrunners where they had clips of Dean and Cas hugging and gazing at each other over the words 'established relationships'. Jesus, they've lost all subtlety.

I stand in the shower for a long time, smiling vaguely at the wall. I wonder a few times if I might have somehow hallucinated everything that's happened over the past several days. Some kind of djinn, maybe? But eventually, I conclude that it's real. Dean and I are really, actually a couple. I'm going to stay here and we're going to be together and I can be close to him without feeling like I'm breaking a rule.

Now we just need to sort out the situation with Sam and Ezekiel and somehow, everything might actually be alright. It's an intoxicating thought.

I ruminate on that as I lather myself up with soap, meticulously cleaning every inch of my skin. Now that Dean is going to be coming into close contact with my body, I have to be very vigilant about personal hygiene. I would never have needed to consider such things as an angel. I sigh wistfully, longing yet again for the convenience and security that came with having grace.

But then again, as an angel I was never able to overcome the barriers between myself and Dean. I always hovered on the edges of his life, a regular presence who knew him to the core in some ways but was a total stranger in others. Our friendship before I lost my grace was strong and complicated and always developing, but there was so much hidden there that I wasn't equipped to uncover. Without becoming human, the gap between us might have always remained unbridged and I might still be feeling that sad frustration, knowing that my power to help and heal Dean is limited and ever met with resistance.

And I'm sure that neither of us would be smiling the way I am now.

Finally turning the water off, I step out of the shower and rub my hair vigorously with my towel, remembering the way that Dean wound his fingers into it and tugged as we kissed. I feel the echo of the sensation low in my stomach and I sigh appreciatively as I wrap the towel around my waist. I brush my teeth quickly. It must be lunchtime already, but I still want to make sure that I'm keeping up with a good dental hygiene routine. Yet another dragging weight attached to mortal existence.

I return to my bedroom. As I shut the door behind me I realise that there's music playing. It's my phone, lying on a pillow, volume low. I pause and listen.

It's my playlist from last night. Dean must have put it on and left it for me. He also seems to have straightened the sheets on the bed and taken the beer and the coffee mug away. I smile softly and hum along to the music as I get dressed. Picking up my phone to turn the music off, I see that it's almost one o'clock in the afternoon. My stomach growls. Definitely lunchtime.

Of course, everyone has had the same thought at the same time. I pause in the kitchen doorway, watching as both Sam and Kevin smirk in unison at me before turning the expression onto Dean. He's eating, so he salutes vaguely at me and then scowls at his brother and housemate.

"Oh, fuck off," he says around a mouthful of some sort of bread. I grin as I go to pour myself a glass of water. Sam gave me a speech soon after I fell about the importance of staying hydrated as a human. Grabbing a plate and cutlery, I settle at the table and peer into the large pot sitting in the middle. Some sort of pasta with a greenish sauce. It smells quite good but I'm more intrigued by the crumpled, half-full package of aluminium foil sitting on a plate. Kevin, opposite me, takes a round piece of bread out of it as I watch. It's toasted and oozing what looks like butter with something green in it.

"Garlic bread," he tells me, eyeing it almost reverently. "Food of the gods. Or, you know, angels. Try some!"

I take a piece and then serve some of the pasta onto my plate too. Dean is quick to inform me that Sam did the cooking today, not him.

"S'why there's so much green," he explains with a slight grimace, glancing at Sam who raises cool eyebrows at him.

"Green food is good for you," Sam says with an air of having repeated this many times. "Don't you want Cas to look after himself? Be healthy?"

"Yeah," chimes in Kevin, and I pause with the garlic bread halfway to my mouth, watching him with growing dread. "Don't you want Cas to keep his strength up, Dean?"

His tone of voice makes it very clear that his words carry some level of innuendo, although it seems vague to me. Dean glares at the prophet, cheeks predictably heating up. "Said it before and I'll say it again, Kevin: fuck off."

I bite into the garlic bread as he speaks, assessing the crunchy texture and the way the warm butter soaks onto my tongue. It's a satisfying flavour. I nod approvingly and lift a forkful of pasta with my fork. It's pleasant to eat, if a little plain.

"Thank you for lunch, Sam. It's very good."

Dean rolls his eyes but then looks at me again, fingers drumming on the table. He's finished his lunch, while Sam and Kevin are still eating. I hold Dean's gaze for a moment and he widens his eyes at me, clearly trying to convey some sort of meaning, glancing down to my meal and then back up at me, giving an infinitesimal but urging nod. I can only assume that he wants me to eat faster. Slightly confused, I do so, chewing and swallowing in haste.

"So Cas," Sam says, turning in his seat to face me, pasta-piled fork in mid-air. "After lunch I was thinking we could have another look at all the info we have so far on the angels post-fall? We're starting to build up a pretty good picture of the situation."

I open my mouth to accept this offer but Dean beats me to it, speaking fast.

"Uh, no, Cas, we had that thing, remember?"

I blink at him, trying to remember if we made plans for this afternoon. I'm sure we didn't. Dean's eyes are boring into mine and he raises his eyebrows meaningfully. Beside me, Sam mutters under his breath before raising his voice.

"Dean, seriously? I'm glad you're comfortable and things are going well, but can you try to keep it in your pants at least some of the time?"

My mouth drops open a little. Was Dean trying to draw me into another sexual encounter? It seems unlikely, as he's glaring at Sam in clear outrage.

"What the fuck?!" he splutters indignantly. "You think I… we… "

"It does totally seem like you're trying to get Cas back to the bedroom, yeah," supplies Kevin, taking another piece of garlic bread. Dean flushes. My own cheeks feel very warm.

"That is not what I was trying to do," snaps Dean. He finally looks at me, eyes wide. "I swear that's not what I was trying to do."

I shrug and nod at him, ignoring the thought that I wouldn't have minded if that had been exactly what Dean was trying to do. Beside me, Sam snorts.

"Yeah, right. So what is this 'thing' that you and Cas have planned?"

Dean looks oddly caught out, slightly panicked gaze fixed on his brother as he opens his mouth but doesn't speak for several long seconds. I frown at his odd behaviour, turning it over in my head until suddenly, I realise.

"Oh!" I exclaim, drawing everyone's eyes to me. I push back from the table, picking up my mostly-cleared plate and empty glass. "Yes, sorry, we have to go. Dean and I have already arranged what we're going to do after lunch."

"Yeah, each other," mutters Kevin, sprawled back in his chair and smirking at the table top. Dean whacks him in the arm before grabbing his own plate.

"So yeah, sorry Sammy, gotta go," he says firmly, standing up. I rise with him, but Sam looks between us with a growing frustration.

"OK, what the hell? If you're not going to get naked, why can't you tell me what you're up to?"

Dean looks blank. "Well… it's just…"

"We're getting naked," I interrupt him impatiently. "You were right all along. Well done."

Dean shoots me a look of utter fury as Sam eyes me with satisfaction. "I knew it!"

"God damn it," Dean grits out, closing his eyes. "Yep. Guessed it, Sam. OK, we're going now."

"Have fun," Sam smirks as I leave my dish and glass in the sink to be washed later. Dean is close behind me and I can feel his glare, so I avoid his eyes. Kevin grimaces at us as we both hurry out, Sam's chuckles fading behind us.

"Fuck's sake, Cas," whispers Dean as soon as we're ten feet up the hallway. "You couldn't come up with a different reason for us to disappear together?"

"Sorry," I mumble back, my apology genuine. "But the most important thing to ensure was that Ezekiel doesn't suspect our… suspicions."

"Whatever," he huffs, grabbing my arm and pulling me hurriedly into his bedroom. His grip is strong and warm and I briefly wish that 'getting naked' was more than just a cover story. But a cover story it nonetheless is.

"Charlie emailed?" I ask without preamble as soon as Dean pulls the door shut. He nods tensely.

"You aren't gonna believe this."

He's moved over to the bed and is opening his laptop as he speaks. I hover beside him, feeling anxious but eager to discover what secrets are being kept by the angel who is supposedly protecting Sam.

"I'm sure I'll believe it, Charlie seems very honest," I assure Dean as he signs in to his email account.

"It's just an expression," he murmurs absently, clicking on an email. He opens the attached video file and stands back, brow low over his focused gaze. I follow it to the screen and watch.

Sam steps out of the bar into the parking lot, everything about his posture telling me that Ezekiel is in control. He turns his head and walks stiffly to where a figure skulks in the shadow of a vending machine, shorter and wider than Sam. Dean leans down and fast forwards through over ten minutes of footage. When he plays it normally again both Ezekiel and the hidden figure have barely moved, but have clearly spoken in detail about something. Ezekiel inclines his head coldly and gestures towards the parking lot, obviously telling his companion to leave. The shadow pauses and then holds out a hand to shake. Ezekiel stares at it for a long moment before shaking firmly. I lean forward, holding my breath as the shadowy figure steps forward to walk past Ezekiel…

"No," I whisper as Dean pauses the grainy image.

Metatron looks tired and messy and the video quality is terrible, but there's no mistaking it. It's him.

"Looks like Ezekiel and Metadouche are buddying up," Dean's grim voice echoes in my ears. "Whatever they were talking about, I don't like it. I especially don't like that handshake at the end."

I'm still gazing at the screen, horror and anger building up inside me. I thought that Metatron was done. He ruined me, took the core of my very being, destroyed the lives of our entire species. Why can't he settle for that and crawl away somewhere instead of following my family around like a plague?

"... some kind of deal," Dean is saying beside me. "I mean, we already know he's got a talent for manipulation."

I flinch, although Dean clearly wasn't trying to bring up my mistakes to shame or hurt me. The reminder still does both, though. I shut my eyes, fists clenching at my sides. Dean touches my elbow, gentle and hesitant.

"Hey, sorry. Cas, I know you're angry-"

"I hate him," I hiss, eyes opening. I wrench away from Dean, shoulders tight, almost snarling as I speak. "He needs to be stopped. I don't care what he's attempting with Ezekiel, whatever it is needs to stop."

"OK, well, no disagreements here-"

"We have to go after him," I interrupt, my voice harsh. Dean frowns at me.

"Ezekiel's gonna suspect something if we just disappear. And I don't want to leave Sam alone with him."

I turn away in frustration, pacing towards the door and then halting. "Alright, so we need to remove Ezekiel from Sam and trap him. Then we need to find out what is happening with Metatron, where he is and what he's planning, and-"

"Let's stick to one thing at a time," Dean cuts in, having followed behind me. I turn to him, irritated, and see him looking oddly troubled as he watches me.

"You don't think that bringing Metatron to justice is important?" I ask sharply.

"Obviously, yeah, it's important," Dean snaps, his worried expression turning annoyed. "Clearly it's the most important thing to you. Excuse me if I'm a little more concerned about my brother, whose life might be in danger, y'know?"

Fury flashes through me, shockingly potent. I feel almost like an angel again, but not the angel I became over the years following my rebellion. I feel like the Castiel who chafed against Heaven's command, who was drowning in frustration and directionless anger, who fought viciously in battles purely to feel some level of power and control, who took lives without mercy because my own life was empty and infuriating. I feel bitter and burning, fists curled at my sides. "I know full well what your priorities are, Dean. But Metatron stole my grace and turned me into the angel who closed off Heaven. My kin have no home and it's my fault, and Metatron did that to me. To all of us. Except now, there is no us, just them, because I'm a fucking human-"

"So that's what this is about," Dean practically sneers, not backing down despite the unpleasant tension growing in the few inches between us. "Your wounded ego?"

My mouth drops open, the rage and hurt bubbling up within me, filling me up, pushing through my skin, no room for anything else as I glare into Dean's eyes. He glares right back, jaw set.

In the hallway, I hear footsteps.