Thank you so much Jenjoremy for that fabulous beta job and Gredelina1 for all your help and support.

Chapter Seventeen

Castiel had gone to the clinic to return the gurney to its place when he found Charlie scrubbing the sink, the smell of his sickness still in the air. It was early in the morning, they'd only been back from the hospital an hour, and Sam was resting. Dean was in his bedroom, too, but Castiel doubted he was resting. He thought his friend just needed some space to deal with and feel what had happened to them all over the past day—the highs, the lows, and sheer relief.

"I'll do that," he said quickly. "It's my mess. My fault."

Charlie smiled at him. "I don't think getting sick is a fault under the circumstances, Cas."

"Nonetheless, I will clean it."

Charlie set down the scourer and bottle of cleaner she was using and stepped away. She boosted herself onto the gurney and perched on the edge, her feet swinging. Castiel looked at her, seeing the absolute peace in her eyes and he smiled. She was, they all were, brimming with happiness in the miracle of Sam's presence in their lives still. He had done that. It was because of what he had done that Sam was with them still. That, and his own extraordinary relief, made what he had done more than worth it.

He sprayed the dirty sink and began to scrub at the marks, smiling to himself. He knew this happiness would be short-lived, he would have to go to Bartholomew soon, but for now he was going to enjoy it.

"Seems crazy how different it all feels now, doesn't it?" Charlie asked.

"It does," Castiel agreed.

Charlie leaned forward and picked up the syringe of grace. She handled it as it was something foul that would dirty her. "And this is what it was about."

Castiel rinsed the now clean sink and then tossed the scourer into the bin. He looked at the grace swirling in the chamber and said, "It is more precious now than ever."

She nodded. "It wasn't worth what it almost cost us, but the fact this is going to help us find that dick Gadreel makes it feel like it wasn't for nothing."

"No, that wasn't worth it," Castiel said seriously. "No revenge is worth any one of our lives. But…" But the benefits of Sam's life were worth what he had done.

Charlie eyed him curiously. "But?"

"But other choices were worth the cost."

"You're talking about the fact you're leaving, aren't you?"

Castiel nodded.

"What really happened?" she asked.

"I told you all already."

"No, you gave us some crap about how you've decided to work with the other angels now that you've got your grace back." She narrowed her eyes. "What's the real story?"

Castiel frowned. "I told you…" He trailed off as she raised an eyebrow. "How did you know?"

"Because Sam and Dean told me that Bartholomew was hunting you with the rest of the angels before, and suddenly he's willing to help you out by returning your grace—which he just happened to have—to save Sam. I know the angels aren't Winchester fans, so why would he help suddenly? Also, after you were snatch and grabbed at the store, you told us Bartholomew had made an offer you couldn't accept."

Castiel sighed. He thought perhaps it was time to tell the truth to at least one person. It might help him carry the weight of what he had done. "I do not have my grace," he started.

"But you healed Sam!" she said. "He's healed and fine now, right?" There was fear in her voice.

"He is," Castiel said reassured "He just needs to rest a while and he will be fine. But I lied about the grace. It is not mine. My own was used as part of a spell. I don't know if there is even any left of it. I sometimes feel that there is, as if something is reaching for me, but when I seek it, I find nothing to follow." He drew a breath and admitted his shame. "The grace I have now belonged to a different angel. His name was Malachi, and he was among the most brutal creatures I have ever known."

"You have another angel's grace?" she asked.

"Yes. Bartholomew harvested it before killing Malachi and gave it to me."

"How does that even work? Are you still you?"

"I am still Castiel. It is just that the power I have is not mine. I can utilize it though. Malachi was a powerful angel. It will sustain me and strengthen me a long time until…"

"Until?"

"It does not live in me," Castiel said. "It burns like a flame, fuelling me. It won't last forever." He was almost relieved by that. When the last of the fuel was gone, he would no longer hold anything else of that angel within him.

"And when it… burns out?"

"It is entirely possible that I will become human again."

"Or?" Charlie pressed.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I suppose it's within the realm of possibility that I will die."

Charlie looked horrified. "Cas!"

Castiel fixed her with a penetrating stare. "You will not tell anyone this. Any of it. Sam and Dean believe I have my grace. We will leave it at that. They do not need to know the truth."

Charlie bit her lip. "I don't want to lie."

"They have no reason to ever ask you about it," Castiel said. "You do not need to lie; you just need to not tell them. You can do that for me."

"Okay," she said, defeated. "I guess I owe you, we all do, so I won't tell them, but I think you should."

"No," Castiel said firmly. "Sam more than anyone does not need to know the truth."

Outside the clinic door, a pale and horrified Sam stood with his mouth open, listening to their conversation. He hadn't intended to eavesdrop. He'd only come down to collect the grace, but when he'd heard what they were saying, he had frozen in place. He unfroze now, though, and slipped back along the hall on silent feet.

Sam was being watched. He understood it, sympathized even, as he'd been in their position before, dealing with a miracle after Dean came back from Hell, but he wished they'd stop and relax already. He was fine. He was in perfect health again. Castiel was the one that deserved their concern. He was the one with grace that could burn out and kill him; he was the one that had sacrificed so much for Sam. He could not tell them all that though, to redirect their focus, because he wasn't supposed to know.

Sam was alone in the library, staring at the book that had informed him of the way to draw out the grace remaining in him. He wanted to do the spell now, to find Gadreel and kill him, before Castiel was forced to go to Bartholomew and join his cause. He wanted the angel to be a part of it, as he knew he owed Gadreel as much as Sam did—maybe more knowing what it had cost him to repair the damage they had done in the search for him.

There were heavy footsteps and Dean appeared at the stairs, his furrowed brow relaxing when he saw Sam. He came up the stairs, and then spotting the open box Sam had on the table beside him, he scowled. "What are you doing with that?" he asked, gesturing at the syringe filled with grace.

"We need to do the spell," Sam said.

"Not yet. Give it a few more days."

"We can't," Sam said. Cas told Bartholomew he'll be there in a few days, and he needs to be a part of this."

"You're not running on all cylinders yet."

"I am," Sam argued. "I'm completely healed now, better than I've been since before I started the trials. It's time, Dean."

Dean blanched and Sam realized his mistake. He had said the same words only a day before, when he was in a hospital bed balanced on the precipice of death, as he had pleaded with Dean to let him go.

"Dean, I…" he started, unsure of what to say.

"No," Dean said brutally. "We're not talking about it. Hell, I can't even think about it right now."

"I'm sorry," Sam said, apologizing for the immediate and the previous failings.

Color flushed Dean's cheeks and his determination to avoid the topic seemed to desert him. "Sorry! You do that to me, and you think sorry covers it?"

Sam sighed. "I am sorry I put you through that. You know I never would have intentionally, but the grace is the only way we're going to find him."

"This isn't about extracting the grace, Sam. Though that was all kinds of messed up, I own my part in that. I am talking about you quitting! About you being ready to just give it all up, all of us, without even trying to fight."

"I fought," Sam said angrily, remembering the struggle it had been to keep going as long as he could. It had been so hard to keep his eyes open when all they wanted to do was close, how he felt he had to concentrate all his will on keeping his heart beating and lungs working just a little longer from second to second.

"Not enough! You wouldn't let me make it right. I could have saved you!"

"At what cost? We already owe Crowley our backup when he goes after Abaddon. What else would he take from us and what would it cost the world?"

"Whatever it was, it would have been worth it!" Dean snapped.

"No," Sam said sadly. "It wouldn't. It would have destroyed someone, probably you, and that would have destroyed me, too."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "Exactly! You would have been fighting just as hard for me, you said so yourself."

Sam closed his eyes. Dean was right. He would have done whatever it took to save him, too. "See! You can't even argue," Dean said triumphantly.

"I can't," Sam agreed. "How about we just accept that it's over now anyway."

"Thanks to Cas," Dean said.

"Yes," Sam said seriously. It hadn't been Dean's sacrifice this time. It had been Castiel's, and Sam was now going to need to find a way to repay him, to perhaps save him in return. "Thanks to Cas I am healthy again. I am ready, and now we're going to use what he gave us to find the son of a bitch that did this to us and kill him."

Dean glowered. "Fine. Okay, fine, but we're doing this smart, Sam. We're going to find him and scope the situation. We're not going in all guns blazing until we know for sure we can take him out. I am not risking losing any one of us to him again. Understand?"

"Yes," Sam said, picking up the box containing the grace. "We're not losing anyone else."

Including Castiel.

"Should we send up a Hail Mary or something?" Kevin asked.

Charlie grinned at him. "You think we should ask for assistance from a religious figure for killing an angel? I think that's what's called a conflict of interest, Kev."

"Yeah, but this angel is a dick. Surely no one up there cares about him after what he did. Cas?"

Castiel looked up from the book he was bowed over studying. "No, I don't imagine anyone cares for Gadreel after what he did to the world. I wouldn't bother with prayer though."

The fact it was an angel of the lord saying that, Sam thought, was a pretty good sign of the times. God was taking a very extended break, and Heaven was empty of all angels but Metatron. It was not the time of miracles but for those performed by good friends.

"I think I have it," Castiel said, straightening. "The spell will form a conduit between the map and Gadreel. It will show us where he is in the world when it is poured over."

"Hands up if you're hoping for North America," Charlie said, raising her hand and grinning when Kevin did the same.

"Let's just get it done," Dean said tersely.

"Yeah" Sam agreed. "Sooner we find him, sooner we kill him."

He knew that wasn't what Dean had meant, but Dean didn't object.

Castiel picked up the bowls of herbs he had gathered from the lab and poured them carefully into the copper bowl they had prepared for the spell. Sam spread his hands over the world map on the table, laying it flat. He wasn't sure what they would do if Gadreel had left the country. They were wanted—if believed dead—criminals, and it was unlikely they would be able to get through the tight security of an airport with fake passports. He supposed Crowley might be able to help them somehow, though that would surely come at a cost.

"Would you like to do the honors, Sam," Castiel asked, picking up the syringe from the box.

Sam shook his head. "It's okay. You go ahead."

Castiel nodded and opened the syringe, pouring the grace over the bowl. The blue-white light seemed to feel for the air as it slipped down, as if it was alive and sentient.

He held his breath as the mixture started to boil and steam. This was it. This was what was going to find Gadreel.

"No," Castiel moaned.

"What?" Dean asked harshly. "What's wrong?"

Sam saw it already. The ingredients had burned and stuck to the sides of the bowl, and the grace was gone. There was nothing to pour over the map. "It didn't work," he said in a defeated tone.

"Cas?" Dean prompted.

"There was not enough grace," Castiel said.

Sam felt a wave of fury and he turned from them all and raked a hand over his face.

"Sam," Castiel called.

"What?" Sam snapped.

"It's not over."

Sam felt a surge of hope. "Is there more grace still in me?"

"Sam, no!" Charlie gasped.

Castiel shook his head. "No. It has been replaced by my own from the healing. It's just that, now I am working with Bartholomew and we have access to other resources to find him."

Sam scoffed. "You really think that's going to work? I don't. I think that bastard is running free and he's going to stay that way." He kicked at the chair beside him and it fell back with a clatter. "Dammit!"

He stormed out of the library, the eyes of the others on his back.

So…That didn't work. But did you really expect it to? It would have been dull to end the search there.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx