Thank you so much Jenjoremy and Gredelina1 for all that you do for me and the story.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Sam and Dean were leaning against the wall outside the dungeon, the door partly open. Sam was listening hard for any sound of Charlie and Kevin's approach, and when Dean spoke, it made him start.

"Okay, honestly, you ever think about sticking a toe inside Oz just to say you've done it?" he asked.

Sam frowned. "Do you?"

"No," Dean said quickly. "Well, maybe, a little. Not much though."

Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, yeah. I do."

"Go ahead," Sam said, gesturing him inside with an expansive wave of his arm.

Dean opened the door a little wider. He raised his foot over the threshold and slowly planted it on the yellow road. His face split into a huge smile and he took another step forward so he was fully in Oz.

Sam smiled fondly as Dean took a couple steps farther away from him. Sam spotted two figures in the distance, and called, "The kids are coming."

Dean practically leapt back through the door. He smoothed down his hair and then leaned casually against the wall opposite Sam.

"How'd it feel?" Sam asked.

"Cool," Dean said. "It was like standing in the height of summer in there."

"And the Yellow Brick Road?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "You know I don't care about that stuff."

"Sure you don't," Sam said, stepping back a little as Charlie and Kevin approached.

Kevin came through first, grinning fit to bust, and Charlie followed. In Kevin's hands was the cloth pouch with the tablets in it.

"That was awesome!" Kevin said enthusiastically. He turned to Dean. "What did you think?"

"Don't know what you mean," Dean said in a low voice, turning and walking away.

Kevin looked confused but Charlie laughed. "He does know we saw him in there, right?"

"Oh, he knows," Sam said. "He just wishes you hadn't."

Sam closed the door and took the key from the lock. "Here, Charlie, you keep a hold of this," he said, handing it to her.

Charlie looked pleased as she took it and stowed it in her pocket.

They walked back through the hall to the library together where they found Dean sitting at the table with a cup of coffee in front of him. Castiel was standing at the head with a tray of cups and a large coffeepot. "How did you enjoy Oz, Kevin?" he asked.

"It was awesome!" Kevin said, taking the proffered coffee with a word of thanks and setting the tablets down. "I walked on the actual Yellow Brick Road, I met the Dorothy, and I saw a flying monkey. It was chained up, but still cool, right?"

"Very cool," Charlie agreed. "How did you like it, Dean?"

Castiel frowned. "Did you go too, Dean?"

"I went in," Dean said shortly. "Was about to start searching for these two since they'd been in there forever."

Sam disguised his laugh as a cough and Dean scowled at him.

"How's Dorothy doing?" Sam asked.

"She's good," Charlie said brightly. "Says hey to everyone. The War is over now, so she's doing clean up and setting up a new society. Light work, you know." She winked.

"Speaking of light work," Dean said. ""Anything on Metatron buzzing around on Angel Radio?"

Castiel shook his head. "Nothing. I know I would hear if they elicited the secret of the spell from him, but otherwise I assume they're keeping things close to their chests. There are still angels that have not allied themselves with Bartholomew since Metatron's defeat."

"Which means it's down to you, Kev," Dean said.

With Metatron's revealed words about a sacrifice the beings would not make, they had something for Kevin to look for on the tablet. They were hoping that would be the key to finding the right part of the tablet for the spell.

"Reaper. Angel. Human," Kevin said with a nod. "I'll find it."

"Awesome. The rest of us will be working the grace problem."

Sam nodded his agreement. He and Dean had a tentative plan in place for Castiel, but they were hoping there would be some other solution as Castiel was not going to be pleased with what they'd come up with together.

"The grace problem?" Castiel asked.

"Yeah, Cas, your little fading grace problem," Dean said. "We figure there might be something we can do to tick you over until we can find what's left of yours."

Castiel had a strange expression on his face. It was both fond and sympathetic. "There is nothing, Dean." He glanced around the table at them all. "I appreciate that you want to help, but it would be a pointless task. I am an angel, I know all there is to know about grace, and I know there is nothing that can replace or support it other than more grace."

Disappointment flooded through Sam. He'd hoped they would be able to find something else.

"More grace." Dean nodded. "Fine. We can make that work."

Castiel frowned. "Grace cannot be cultivated or grown. Only God Himself can create it. There is no way we can make more for me."

"Not talking about making it, Cas. I'm talking about taking it."

"No!" Castiel said, horrified. "You cannot."

"Can. Will." Dean crossed his arms over his chest. "You just watch me."

Sam nodded. He wasn't thrilled at the idea of constantly stealing grace, but they were angels, and this was Castiel. He was more than worth any other angel that walked the earth. It wasn't like they even had to kill the angels. Castiel had lost his grace and lived as a human. The other angels could suck it up and live human, too. It was that or lose Castiel, and Sam knew which choice he would rather live with.

"Cas," Sam said. "We don't have a choice. It will kill you to let this grace burn out."

"It will kill them to lose their grace!" Castiel said harshly.

"You lost yours and survived," Sam pointed out.

"And I suffered," Castiel said. "You cannot understand how it felt to lose everything I had always known to be me and become something new. And I was more experienced with humanity than any other angel has ever been. I was uniquely capable of living as a human, and I nearly didn't. These other angels you're planning to strip of their true selves will surely die."

"We'll take care of them," Sam said. "We won't let them die. We'll make sure they're okay."

Castiel shook his head brutally. "You will not because we are not doing this. There will be no more grace."

"But you'll die," Charlie said in a small voice.

Castiel gave her a gentle smile. "Yes."

"You can't think we're going to let that happen," Dean said angrily.

"I think I am giving you no choice," Castiel replied.

Dean leapt to his feet, his chair crashing back to the floor. "No!" he shouted. "I am done with this." He pointed accusingly at Sam. "You and him, disappearing, dying, leaving us. You are not doing it again, do you understand?"

"Dean," Castiel said gently.

"No!" Dean shouted. "I am not listening to this shit."

"Yes, you are," Castiel said firmly. "You will listen or I will leave now and take the temptation from your hands."

"Don't think you can threaten me, Castiel," Dean growled.

"This is not a threat. It is a promise. There are things we need to discuss and decide and I would like you to be present for the conversation. I would like to make arrangements."

Dean paled. "No. The hell with this. You plan your funeral or whatever, I am not sticking around!"

He strode over to the liquor cabinet, grabbed a bottle of whiskey and walked out of the room, the bottle swinging in his hand, without a backward glance.

Sam watched him go, and while he understood the desire to escape the conversation and blot it out, he made himself keep his seat instead of following.

"Should I…" Charlie ventured.

"No," Sam said. "He needs space."

Charlie looked guiltily relieved.

Sam drew a deep breath and tried to force down his selfish denial and concentrate on what Castiel needed. It was hard as he wanted to rant and rage just as much as Dean. There was a difference between them though; Sam had recently been in Castiel's position. After they'd drawn the grace, when he was dying, he'd had the choice to let someone save him and risk pain for others, and he'd chosen not to allow that to happen. In effect, it had happened anyway, as Castiel had made his deal with Bartholomew, and he'd obviously suffered there. It hadn't destroyed lives though the way it would to save Castiel.

"Sam," Castiel said gently. "I would like to talk things out if you can."

Sam nodded, wiped a hand over his face, and said, "Yeah, Cas. Okay. What do you need?"

"I would like to stay," Castiel said.

For a moment, Sam was confused, hopeful, but then Castiel went on and destroyed the glimmer of light in the darkness.

"Here. For whatever is left of my life, I would like to be here with you all."

Sam heard someone sniffle, but he didn't look to see which of his friends it was. He thought if he saw Charlie or Kevin's tears, he would lose the stranglehold he had on his own.

"Of course," he said hoarsely. "It's your home, Cas. We're your family."

"It is and you are," Castiel agreed. "That is why. I want to be with you all."

Sam nodded and swallowed hard. "What else do you need?"

"After… when I am gone, I would like to be returned to Heaven. There is a place there I wish to be laid to rest."

"Sure," Sam said.

"I will make arrangements with Bartholomew for passage," he said. "All you would need to do is contact him when it's time. Can you do that for me?"

"Of course," Sam said.

Castiel smiled slightly. The small gesture nearly stole Sam's control.

"Thank you," he said sincerely. "You and Dean have been better to me than I deserve."

"No," Sam said quickly. "You deserve more. I'm sorry, Cas; I wish there was another way."

"There isn't," Castiel said. He drew a breath and turned to Charlie and Kevin where they sat, Charlie tucked under Kevin's arm. "Thank you, both of you. I have been very happy to call you friends."

"Family," Charlie corrected in a weak voice, tears painting her face.

Castiel nodded. "Yes, family." He turned back to Sam. "I am going to Heaven now. I need to see Bartholomew, and there is one more thing to do."

"Okay," Sam said. "You want me to give you a ride there?"

"No, thank you. I think I will enjoy the drive."

Castiel stood and, after nodding to Kevin and Charlie and patting Sam's shoulder, he walked out of the room. After a moment, Sam heard the creak and slam of the door opening and closing behind him.

He stood slowly, wiping a hand over his face, and walked to the liquor cabinet. He opened the cupboard door and took out one of the bottles of whiskey they stored there, then carried it away.

"Where are you going?" Kevin called after him in a cracked voice.

"I need a drink," Sam said hoarsely.

He found Dean in the garage, sitting on the floor with his back pressed against the wheel of the Impala. In his hand was the bottle of whiskey. Sam noticed that there was a lot less in there than there had been when Dean left the library.

As he entered, Dean glared up at him. "What do you want?"

"A drink," Sam answered, holding up his own, fresh bottle.

Dean slapped the floor. "Well come on in then."

Sam sat down and uncapped his bottle. He took a swig from the neck and gasped as it hit his throat. It didn't stop him taking another swig though. He felt the warmth of the liquor moving through him, and he tipped his head back against the side of the car.

"Where's Castiel?" Dean asked,

"Heaven," Sam said.

Dean gasped and Sam looked at him to see his eyes were wide and almost afraid. "He left?"

"Just for a little while. He said he needed to talk to Bartholomew and…"—he sucked in a shaky breath—"arrange things.

Dean cursed and took a swig from the bottle. "I can't believe this is happening."

"Me either," Sam said miserably.

"If he'd just let us…"

"He won't," Sam said. "He's determined.

Dean groaned. "What the hell is it with you two? Have you got no fight at all?"

Sam winced at the accusation and took a fortifying swig before saying, "It's not about fighting, Dean. It's about protecting others. Don't you remember when you made the deal? You didn't want me trying to break it because it could kill me? Cas feels the same way. The angels may be dicks to us, but to him they're different. They're like family."

"Fucked up family," Dean grunted.

"Yeah, but whose isn't?"

"Got me there," Dean sighed. "But I tell you, Sammy, if it was a choice between every other angel in existence and Cas, I know which one I'd choose."

"Me too," Sam admitted. "But it's not about who we like most now. It's about letting Castiel decide. He doesn't want to live what he feels would be a cursed life. And I get that. I felt the same when I was in the hospital—both times. I didn't want a life at the expense of someone else's."

"You're both idiots."

"Maybe."

Dean shook his head. "I don't know how to do this. How are we supposed to let him just… die?"

Sam felt a burn behind his eyes. He blinked and wiped a hand over his face quickly. "I think we just do," he said. "We have to remember all the times he's sacrificed for and saved us, and let him have what he wants this time."

"By dying?" Dean asked in a hoarse voice.

Sam sniffed and nodded. "Yeah. We have to let him go."

"And if we can't?"

"I don't think we have a choice," Sam said sadly.

Castiel sat on a bench at the edge of the park, watching Jessica Moore setting out her picnic. Her movements were graceful and quick. She was in a hurry. The reason became apparent after only a few moments; Sam Winchester, younger by many years than the person Castiel knew and different in many other ways, was loping across the grass towards her, his smile wide.

"Hey, baby," Jessica said, smiling up at him. "You hungry?"

"Starving," Sam said, dropping down beside her. "But you didn't have to do all this."

"I had an hour free," she said modestly.

Sam's eyes scanned the plates of baked foods and desserts. "An hour, huh?"

"Maybe it took me a little longer than that," she said.

"Will you still make me picnics when we're old and grey?" Sam asked.

"No," Jessica said easily, though clearly pleased at the thought of their shared future. "I'll be too busy looking after the fifteen grandchildren," she said.

"Fifteen!" Sam gasped in mock horror.

"Well, with five children we're going to have a lot of grandbabies."

"How about we compromise?" Sam asked. "Five dogs and three children?"

Jessica laughed. "We'll see."

"Yes, we will," Sam said. He leaned over to her and their lips met in a chaste kiss.

As he leaned back, Castiel saw Sam's face was serene in a way Castiel had never seen in life. They were, both of them, perfectly happy together, and Jessica Moore showed no ill effects of whatever it was Gadreel might have done to her.

Almost reluctantly—it was so good to see Sam so happy—Castiel turned away from the couple and walked to the park gate, knowing it would return him to the Axis Mundi.

His next port of call was the heaven of a devout investment banker whose eternity was a skyscraper of opulent offices, one of which Bartholomew had commandeered for his own. He knocked and waited for Bartholomew's summons before entering. Bartholomew and Berieah were bent over something at the desk, and they looked up at Castiel.

Berieah smiled slightly at him, surprising him as she'd never been particularly friendly before. Bartholomew's face split into a smile. "Castiel, it's good to see you again. What can I do for you?"

"I wished to enquire after Metatron," Castiel said.

Bartholomew's smile faded. "He is proving difficult. He has fallen silent, and nothing we do seems able to make him talk."

"You are trying though?" Castiel asked.

"Of course."

"If I may offer some advice…" Castiel started.

Bartholomew nodded. "Go ahead."

"When the Winchesters were holding Crowley prisoner, they used solitary confinement and lack of stimulation to torture him. I don't suppose Metatron will mind the solitary part of it, as he lived like that for millennia, but perhaps the lack of stimulation will break him."

Bartholomew tapped his chin. "That's an intriguing idea. We may have to try it. It's of the utmost importance that we break him somehow. He holds the key to the spell to open Heaven."

"Kevin Tran is also working on that," Castiel said. "We believe with the clues Ezra gave us, that he will have more success."

"That is good," Bartholomew said. "Between us we will find a way."

"Yes," Castiel agreed, then hesitated.

"Is there more, Castiel?" Bartholomew asked.

Castiel nodded. "The grace is burning out and, according to Metatron, and what I feel myself, it will kill me. There are arrangements I need to make for after my passing."

Bartholomew looked solemn. "I understand. I will leave you with Berieah to make the arrangements. Whatever you wish that is possible, you can have, Castiel."

"Thank you," Castiel said gratefully.

Bartholomew swept from the room and let the door swing closed behind him.

"What can I do for you, Castiel," Berieah asked gently.

Castiel straightened and forced his tone to remain even as he said, "There is a heaven that belongs to the Winchesters. The Impala is there with a box of fireworks in the trunk; I believe it is the Fourth of July."

Castiel had once visited it when Sam was in the Cage when he wanted to gain some peace from the war with Raphael. Though the Winchesters hadn't been present, Castiel had the feeling it was a particularly special place for them within their shared heaven, and he thought it would be a good place for his eternity, even though he wouldn't be a part of it.

"I will find it. Would you like your vessel laid to rest there?"

"I would."

Berieah nodded. "I can arrange that for you." She paused. "I want to thank you, Castiel. Thanks to you and the Winchesters, Metatron has been caught, and I am confident we will receive full access to Heaven again as a result of it."

Castiel smiled. "Thank you, Berieah."

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" she asked.

"No," Castiel said. "I think I am done in Heaven for now." When he was next there, it would just be a vessel.

"Very well. I wish you peace, Castiel."

Thank you," Castiel said sincerely. "I appreciate it."

He turned and walked from the room. His plans in place, he could return to his home and spend what time was left to him with family.

Castiel and Sam were outside the bunker, sitting together on the steps facing the door. Castiel had asked Sam to come outside so they could speak in private, but now that they were alone, he wasn't sure how to broach the subject of Jessica Moore.

"Cas, what are those?" Sam asked, breaking the silence, pointing at the sigils Metatron and Gadreel had painted on the walls of the bunker.

"They are designed to gain entry to a place," Castiel replied. "They work almost like a battering ram."

"Huh, that's why the machines went nuts then," he said.

"Yes, the power they hold is immense. The bunker is warded to an immense extent. You will be safe here after." The last slipped from him without thought.

Sam winced and Castiel apologized automatically.

"It's okay," Sam said. "I understand what you mean if anyone does."

"Yes," Castiel agreed. Sam had been in the position of waiting for the end before, and he had made the same choice as Castiel. He understood.

"How did things go in Heaven?" Sam asked, seeming to force his tone to remain even.

"I made the arrangements needed. When it's time, you need to pray to an angel called Berieah. You met her before."

"I remember," Sam said.

"She will take care of everything."

Sam nodded and drew a deep shaky breath. "Okay."

Castiel thought perhaps that was the time for him to mention Jessica Moore, too. "Sam, when I was in Heaven, I made a visit to a specific eternity," he said.

Sam looked at him. "Yeah?"

"Yes. I thought you would like reassurance, so I visited Jessica Moore."

Sam sucked in a breath. "Is she okay?" he asked in a strained tone. "Did he…"

"She is very well," Castiel said. "I don't know if Metatron was telling the truth about Gadreel targeting her for his wrath, but if he did, she shows no ill effects of the experience. She is perfectly at peace."

"She's okay," Sam breathed.

"Yes. Happy."

Sam wiped at his wet face. "Thank you, Cas. I needed to hear that, now more than ever."

"You're very welcome," Castiel replied.

"Ahem." Someone cleared their throat behind them, and Sam and Castiel lurched to their feet, turning to look at Crowley who was smiling down at them, a cruel glint in his eyes.

"Sorry to interrupt the perfect moment," Crowley said. "But I need a word."

"What is it, Crowley?" Castiel asked.

"Shall we go in?" he asked. "I figure Squirrel and the kids will want to hear this, too."

Sam nodded and moved to knock on the door. After a moment, Dean answered. He took in Sam's red eyes, Castiel's frown and Crowley's smug smile and groaned. "Awesome. You."

"Me," Crowley said, pushing past him into the bunker.

Dean hurried after him and Castiel and Sam followed. When they got to the library where Charlie and Kevin were, Crowley said, "Hi, kids."

"What do you want?" Kevin snarled.

"Got a little info," Crowley said, "about Abaddon."

The air in the room filled with tension. With the chase for and defeat of Metatron, Castiel had almost forgotten that there was also a Knight of Hell to deal with. He wondered if he would be able to assist in that fight, if he would even be there anymore when it came.

"What's she done now?" Dean asked.

"She's building an army," Crowley said.

"We knew that already," Sam said.

"Yes, but I mean literally building an army this time. She's taking souls from humans and cultivating them into demons before their death. Not hell bound souls," he said pointedly, sounding almost offended.

"She's making demons," Sam said, disgusted.

"Yep. Little minx is getting restless. It's taking too long to get the numbers she needs."

"How do you know this?" Dean asked.

"Little birdie told me. And by mean birdie I mean demon. And by told I mean screamed it when I cut off his digits."

"It tell you anything else?" Sam asked

"Not much," Crowley said. "Only that she's got something big planned and he didn't know what. I don't like it whatever it is."

"Obviously," Dean said. "But what do you expect us to do? We've already signed up to be on your side."

Crowley smiled cruelly. "Didn't I mention? This 'big' plan is something to do with you boys. The demon said he'd heard your name mentioned a few times, and not in an 'I should invite them to afternoon tea' kinda way."

Sam and Dean exchanged a dark glance.

"So, you're not jumping to the Abaddon ship?" Crowley asked.

"No," Sam and Dean said in unison. "Why would we do that?" Sam added.

Crowley shrugged. "You make all kinds of dumb choices. I just want to be sure."

"We're keeping the deal," Dean said. "We're with you."

"Good," Crowley said. "Which means you boys need to be extra careful. If she's got her eyes on you, it's not good."

"No shit," Dean growled.

"We'll be careful," Sam said seriously.

Crowley nodded. "You better be. I don't care a damn about either of you, of course, but I don't want to lose an ally because you didn't look both ways before crossing the street."

Castiel looked at his friends and his brow creased with worry. What use could Abaddon put them to, and what could he do to help them when he was running out of time as it was?

It was only a matter of days later that Castiel discovered there was absolutely nothing he could do to help.

So… Ouch. This chapter was hard to write, with Castiel's preparations, but I thought he deserved to have due time given to his situation.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx