“You will bow down and profess your love,” Castiel told them, in a calm voice that was softer than usual.  “Unto me, your lord.  Or I shall destroy you.”

It didn’t matter how quiet the words were when power like fission hummed underneath them.  He’d delivered his ultimatum, and Dean was a lot of things but he wasn’t stupid.  His gaze flicked to Sam, then to Bobby, and he tried to stare at the ground while he went down on his knees.

“You got it,” Dean said.  He was only partially successful: he couldn’t keep from looking up at Cas, or checking on Sam and Bobby.  He didn’t have time to read anything in their faces; all he knew was that they were down and Castiel wasn’t looking at anyone but him.  “We love you, okay?  You’re our –”

He only hesitated a little over the word, but it was enough.

“Lord,” Castiel said, and the conviction was terrifying.

“Friend,” Dean insisted.  If he wouldn’t let them call him “brother” – and maybe that hadn’t been the best choice, given what Cas’ brothers had done to him – they were just gonna have to come up with something else.

Something that wasn’t “god.”

“You’re humoring me,” Castiel said.  He sounded okay with it, which could only be bad.  Cas was easiest to reason with when he was upset.  When he was calm like this, nothing got through.

“We’re not,” Dean said.  “You want our love, Cas?  You’ve got it.  We love you.”

“You’re humoring me,” Castiel repeated, “because you don’t kneel.  Not for anyone.”

What, this was some kind of test, now?  “We don’t give in to bad guys,” Dean said.  “You’re not a bad guy, Cas.  You’re just trying to do the best you can.  We get that.”

“I have done the best,” Castiel said.  “I won.  I saved you.  I saved you all, and yet you mock me.”

Arguing with the guy who’d just exploded an archangel probably wasn’t the best choice, but it was what Dean did.  He stood without thinking, and he took a single step before the electric tingle in the air around Cas made him freeze.  “You don’t want me to kneel?” he demanded.  “Fine.  But you can’t say you didn’t know.”

Cas tilted his head.  “I know everything,” he said.  But that was his curious look, and he hadn’t smote Dean for obnoxiousness yet, so Dean had to keep going.  Sam and Bobby wouldn’t stay down forever, and Cas wouldn’t give them the same pass he got just for being a dumbass.

“I care about you, man.  I couldn’t trust you but I can’t lose you, okay?  So tell me what you need.”

Castiel’s quiet tone turned more ominous.  “I needed you before.”

Dean glared back at him.  “I needed you too.”

“You should have trusted me,” Castiel told him.

“You shouldn’t have messed with my family,” Dean snapped.

“Sam,” Castiel said.  He didn’t take his eyes off of Dean.  “Do you want the wall back?”

It was the first word Sam had spoken, and he sounded bad.  He sounded really bad.  But he also sounded conscious and self-aware when he gritted out, “No.”

Castiel didn’t blink.  “Bobby,” he continued.  “I can restore Ellie, if you wish.”

Dean gave him his best you’re being an asshole look, but after a second of startled silence Bobby said, “Yeah.”  That was it, just “yeah.”  Dean heard every awful thing he didn’t say, but Cas ignored it.  The same way he ignored Ellie’s sudden presence, sprawled across the floor in a bloody mess, and Bobby’s frantic scramble to her side.

Cas always cleaned up his blood, Dean thought distantly.  No one else’s.

“That doesn’t make this right,” Dean told him.

“Your lack of gratitude doesn’t impress me either,” Castiel replied.  “But it’s not unexpected.”

Dean narrowed his eyes.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You are a disrespectful, heathen creature, with no concept of reciprocity.”  Castiel still didn’t sound angry, and the longer he went without emotion the worse it was gonna be for all of them.  “But you are still the righteous man.  The world has need of righteous men.”

“I care more about you than I do about the world, Cas.”  He didn’t have time to wonder where it came from, which was good because Cas was probably reading his mind.  He couldn’t tell the truth, but he didn’t dare lie.  “Tell me what you need.”

“I need a lieutenant,” Castiel said.  “Everyone I thought I could count on has betrayed me.”

“A lieutenant,” Dean repeated.  Bobby was going to kill him, but he figured Sam might understand.  “Okay.  Yeah.  I can do that.”

“You?”  Castiel seemed, just faintly, amused.  It wasn’t the first emotion Dean would have chosen, but it was better than nothing.  “You’re just a man, Dean.”

“And you’re a god,” Dean countered.  “Give me some freakin’ superpowers.”

Castiel didn’t hesitate, and Dean didn’t know if that said more about how messed up he was or how fast he was thinking right now.  “All right.  I’ll have to kill you, of course.  Sam will ensure nothing happens to your body until you have need of it again.”

Dean had time to think oh shit before the world went cold and dark and far away.

The first thing he remembered was Sam with Lucifer inside him.

The second thing he remembered was Cas.  He had to remember him because Castiel was holding him down as he tried to fight his way through dirt and blood and fire.  “Dean,” he was saying.  “Dean.”

Just “Dean,” over and over again, and so the third thing he remembered was his name.

His name was also the fourth thing he remembered.  The angel above him should have shaken with the power of his voice when he identified it, but Castiel didn’t so much as flinch.  Even the burst of wings and grace couldn’t dislodge the strength that imprisoned him as completely as the cage.

“You are Dean Winchester,” Castiel informed him.

“No,” Michael said.  “I’m not.”

And for the first time, he remembered the wrath of God.

“You,” Castiel said, controlled and sharp with the fury of creation.  “Are.”  He drove it into Michael’s grace until it threatened to tear itself apart, apparently unmoved by an archangel’s screams.  “Dean.”  The power twisted, holding him together, the meager relief of oblivion denied.  “Winchester.”

He didn’t know where he found the strength to gasp, “Cas!”

The pain vanished faster than it had come.  “Dean?”

If you want me to be, he thought, and he knew Castiel heard.

“Michael,” he said.  “Your grace is subordinate to Dean’s soul, now and forever.  The alternative is your certain destruction.  Or,” he added, almost as an afterthought, “an eternity in the cage.  I’ll ask Dean which he prefers.”

“Cas,” he repeated, because holy crap.  He did not sign up for this shit.  “What the hell are you doing?”

Castiel’s grip on everything he was eased, and he looked almost proud of himself.  “Giving you superpowers,” he said.  “Michael’s weren’t doing any good in hell with Lucifer.  So long as he is completely subservient to you, you may rule at my side.  The first archangel of heaven.”

“Gee, Cas,” he said sarcastically.  “That’s quite an honor.”

“It is,” Castiel agreed.  “It’s one you will earn.”

“Right,” Dean said.  He should have trained himself not to think stupid things around Cas a long time ago, but he figured it wouldn’t do any good when he couldn’t even keep his mouth shut.  “Ruling at your side, huh?  That make me your lieutenant or your queen?”

Castiel gave him an odd look.  “Do you prefer the title of queen?”

“No!” Dean exclaimed, but Cas was still on top of him and he was starting to get a complex.  About something.  “Look, man, let me up.  This is weird.”

Castiel’s weight, like a freakin’ neutron star, was suddenly gone.  He could breathe again – not that he had to, but the expansion of grace was like waking up to the best dream he’d ever had.  He fumbled, dizzy with it, clutching at something to hold him down.

He felt familiar cloth and buttons under his fingertips.  

Dean opened eyes he hadn’t had a second ago.  He was on the couch at Bobby’s, which was goddamned creepy if he thought about it, and Castiel was sitting next to him.  “You should rest,” Castiel said.  “I’ll return for you in the morning.”

“Cas, wait –”  He didn’t know what he was saying, but he couldn’t let go or they would lose whatever control they had.  He could see Bobby and Sam frozen in the corner.  His voice was strange and rusty and human as he begged, “Stay with us.  Please.”

Castiel didn’t move.  “There is no us, Dean.”  He was impassive again, cool under Dean’s hand despite the warmth of his body.  “There is me, your god.  And there is everyone else.”

Dean was holding on to empty air.

“Dean!”  Sam burst into motion as time sped up, stumbling toward him and flinching like he’d hit a wall.  Dean watched in horror as his face crumpled, hands clawing at his head as he went to his knees.  Dean scrambled off the couch, landing in front of him with one hand on his shoulder and two fingers to his forehead.

Distantly, he saw Bobby stop where he was.  He heard footsteps on the stairs, but there was no threat there, and he was holding onto Sam like he was back from the dead.  Which he was.  Sam was hugging him back just as hard, and Dean figured that was fair since the death thing was kind of going around.

“Hey,” he muttered, clenching his hands in the back of Sam’s shirt.  “Glad you made it.”

“Yeah.”  Sam’s breath huffed against his neck and he squeezed a little tighter.  “Not that it did any good.”

“Hey,” Dean repeated, turning his head so his words weren’t muffed by Sam’s shoulder.  “I’m the one he’s mad at.  I’m the one who screwed it up; this isn’t your fault.”

“What?”  Sam didn’t let him go until Dean forced his hands to unclench and thump Sam’s back, twice, but when he did Sam stared at him.  “What are you talking about?”

Dean pushed himself up, offering a hand to pull Sam to his feet.  “We let him down,” Dean said.  “Come on, think about it.  What does Cas need more than anything?”

Sam raised his eyebrows.  “A kick in the ass?”

“To get laid?” Bobby grumbled.

“Someone to tell him what to do,” Dean said.  “He’s been an angel for freakin’ ever; you can’t just tell them to make their own decisions and let them go.  We weren’t around.  Crowley stepped in.”

“Dean, he’s a big boy,” Sam said.  “I think Cas can take care of himself.”

“Obviously he can’t!” Dean snapped.  “Obviously we didn’t teach him enough about right and wrong, and we sure didn’t get across to him who to turn to when everything goes to hell!  He’s my stupid angel; it was my responsibility.  I messed up, okay?  I’m gonna fix it.”

“The whole world ain’t your six-year-old little brother, boy.”  Bobby was scowling at him, and only then did Dean notice Ellie at the bottom of the stairs.  Leaning back against the wall, dressed in jeans and one of Bobby’s flannels, she still looked too sexy for the house.

“Sometimes people just screw up,” Bobby added.  “It happens.”

“Amen to that,” Ellie said.  She didn’t straighten up, though, and she didn’t take her eyes off of Dean.  “So if you’re fixing his mistakes, what are you going to do with me?”

Dean frowned over at her.  “You’re already fixed.”

She raised her eyebrows in an elegant parody of Sam.  “You’re telling me an angel is fine with letting a denizen of purgatory walk the earth?  In plain sight?”

“The angel brought you back,” Bobby said gruffly.  “I don’t know about you, but I mean to stay out of his way as much as possible.”

“Not that angel,” Ellie said.  And then she just looked at Dean.

Waiting.

“Dean?” Sam said.  Because he always was too smart for his own good.  “Did Cas... do something to you?”

“No,” Dean retorted.  Cas could disappear all he wanted, but Dean was pretty sure all he had to do was say Michael’s name and they’d have a living room full of smite-happy pretender god.  “Okay, yes,” he said, at the look on Sam’s face.  “He gave me some angel juice.  Says he wants me to rule by his side.  It’s fine, it’s good.  At least we’ll be able to keep an eye on him, right?”

“Rule by his side?” Bobby repeated incredulously.  “What are you, his wife?”

“You know what, I’ll be his goddamned concubine if it keeps him from destroying the world!”  Dean glared at all of them, but none of them seemed inclined to argue when he put it like that.

“What about you?” Sam asked at last.  “Angel juice?  What does that mean?  Are you okay?”

“Yeah, great,” Dean grumbled.  “I remember stupid shit like flying and singing or whatever.  It’s awesome.”

“Flying?” Sam said, wincing like it was weird.  “Can you fly now?”

His grimace turned into a twisted mask of pain and he ground his palms into his eyes even as he staggered.  Dean swore, because Sam was clearly the one they should be fussing over, and he pressed forgetfulness into Sam’s mind without another thought.  Sam sagged against him, but Bobby wasn’t coming any closer.

“What’d you do to him?” he demanded.

“Made him forget,” Dean grunted, shoving Sam into the chair.  “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Sam gasped.  “I’m – don’t do that.  You’ll – I think – you might make it worse.”

“Worse?” Dean repeated.  “Worse than you remembering hell?”

“I can –”  Sam screwed up his face, squeezing his eyes shut and then opening them wide like he could make his ears pop or something.  “I think I can deal.  I just – when it takes me by surprise, I get kind of... messed up.”

“I can’t watch you freak,” Dean told him.

“Dean.”  Sam stared up at him, earnest and sure and so much like Lucifer in that moment that it took his breath away.  “I got this.”

“Yeah,” Dean muttered, dropping a hand to his shoulder and staring at the window while he tried not to remember Adam.  How much was Castiel listening to his thoughts?  “Sure.”

“You said Cas turned off your dreams.”  Bobby was frowning at them both.  “He didn’t make you forget, just – made it so you could sleep.  You think you could do that for him?  While he’s awake?”

He didn’t turn them off, Dean realized.  It was weird that he could realize, that he understood now: Castiel had turned his mind away.  Diverted him.  And yeah... he knew how to do that for Sam.

“For a little while,” he said aloud.  “I dunno how long it’ll last.”

“Cas was coming by every night for a while there,” Sam said.  “So I’m guessing not more than a day at a time.”

Dean glanced down in surprise, and Sam shrugged.  “Demon blood, right?  He could sense me, I could sense him.”

It was a little creepy to think that Sam had known what was going on when he hadn’t even known where Sam was.  On the other hand, they were his brothers.  Of course they’d known about each other.

Dean focused on the window, still painted with broken angel wards, and tried to think human thoughts.  The enochian didn’t help, because he could read it.  He yanked his gaze away, but Sam had seen.

“The sigils don’t keep you out,” he observed.

“They’re messed up,” Dean muttered.  “The ‘a’ is wrong.”

“Well,” Bobby said, after a second’s pause.  “That’s handy.”

“Since when do you screw up enochian?” Ellie wanted to know.

Sam was still staring at the window.  “I did that one,” he said.  “It wasn’t wrong.”

“Look, I wanted to talk to him,” Dean said with a sigh.  “He wouldn’t have hurt us.”

“You messed up the sigils.”  Sam said it like it was obvious, like he’d known it all along but only just remembered.

“After what he did to Sam and Ellie, I’d say he hurt us just fine,” Bobby growled.  “I know you want to think the best of him, but he ain’t human and you can’t keep treating him like he is.  Especially now.”

“Crowley filled him up with souls from hell!” Dean snapped.  “Imagine me and Sam times a thousand!  Times fifty thousand!  That would confuse anyone, okay?  And now he’s got these, whatever, fucking monsters inside him; what do you expect?

“No offense,” he added, glancing at Ellie.

She shrugged.  “I don’t argue with my elders.”

“So yeah,” Dean said, ignoring her, “he’s weird and he’s dangerous and he still doesn’t get Star Wars jokes, but he’s coming back in the morning and I’m going with him.  Because I dunno about you, but I don’t want a god who doesn’t know the difference between a TIE fighter and an X-wing.”

“He’s coming back?” Bobby repeated.

“In the morning?” Sam added.

“What, is there an echo in here?”  Dean glared at him.  “What part of ‘lieutenant’ wasn’t clear?”

Sam folded his arms, a thoughtful look creasing his face.  “I think it was the wife part,” he said.

“Bitch,” Dean muttered.

The corner of Sam’s mouth quirked.  “Jerk.”

“You’re gonna be God’s lieutenant?” Bobby demanded.  “What kind of damn fool idea is that?”

“It’s the only one I’ve got,” Dean told him.  “If you’ve got something better, believe me, I’m listening.”

Bobby turned to look at Ellie.  “You knew how to let the souls out,” he said gruffly.  “Any idea how to stuff ’em back in?”

“To purgatory?”  Ellie looked skeptical.  “The eclipse is over, and it’s six months to the next one.  Good luck getting that door open before then.”

“There have to be other doors,” Sam said.  “Monsters die all the time.”

“We only need to send ’em one way,” Bobby added.

Ellie looked from one of them to the other, eventually settling on Dean.  “I might have some books,” she said.  “We’ll need a ride if you want them quickly.”

He could tell from the way her eyes moved that she could see him stretch his wings.  “Just tell me where,” Dean said.

It was past midnight before he realized he wasn’t going to get tired.  Of course he wasn’t going to get tired.  Cas had thought he would, which meant Cas was in serious denial.  Dean was gonna have to be right there with him if he didn’t want to get knocked off by the thought police.

“Hey,” he said quietly.  Bobby was the only one still awake: Ellie had put her book down deliberately, and when Sam nodded off for the third time they’d both agreed – silently – that it was better to let him be.  “Get some rest, man.  Doesn’t look like we’re gonna solve this overnight.”

“Not if we sleep through it, we won’t,” Bobby grumbled.  “Make yourself useful and get some more coffee.”

“Bobby, I mean it.”  Dean pushed his book back.

“You think I don’t?” Bobby glared at him.  “You got a hot date or something?  Thought Cas wasn’t coming back ’til morning.”

“Gonna do some reconnaissance,” Dean said.  “Upstairs.”

Bobby frowned.  “Can you do that?  How far does this angel juice go?”

“Far,” Dean said.  “I’ll be back before dawn.”

“Dean,” Bobby said.  “It may not be all rainbows and roses down here, but I get the impression it’s a lot worse up there.  You sure you want to go charging into that?  Without any kind of backup?”

“Most of what we know about the war comes from Cas,” Dean said.  “And hey, turns out he’s been on the other side this whole time.  So yeah.  I think we need a second opinion.”

Bobby just eyed him.  “I’d say don’t get yourself killed,” he said at last.  “But I guess that’s redundant.”

“Call me if Sam wakes up,” Dean said, pushing himself back from the table.

Bobby muttered something that could have been “yeah.”

Heaven was in chaos.  He tried not to notice, not to think about how he knew, focusing instead on the human souls that went on as they always had.  The seraphim, the malakhim, the fates and the cherubs and the healers would just have to take care of themselves a while longer.  He wasn’t their big brother.

“Dean!” Ash yelled happily.  “What’s up, my man, how are you – whoa.  Whoa ho ho, what’s with the wings?”

Dean already had his hands up, because Ash was probably getting ready to shoot.  Something.  Invisible and deadly and he really didn’t have time, because Cas knew he was here.  “It’s still me,” he said.  “Look, I know what happened, okay?  I remember.  You hear about Cas?”

“Castiel?” Ash repeated.  “The new god?  I have sources, man, we all knew the ringmasters were squaring off.  Good... evil... no one’s sure which side won, if you get my meaning.”

He did.  He didn’t want to, but he did.  “Ash.  Do the ends justify the means?”

Ash didn’t bat an eye.  “Free will, baby.  The means are the ends.”

He’d distracted Castiel from whoever he was terrorizing now, and Ash was about to have a visitor if he didn’t move.  “Thanks, man.  Stay low.”

“Always do!” Ash declared.  Which was the opposite of true, and it made Dean roll his eyes.  That might have been why he got a slap in the face the moment he landed in Ellen’s heaven.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, boy, and where’s your brother?  Don’t tell me we’re gonna have to bust Sam out of hell for trying to bring you back.”

“Bobby’s supposed to let me know when he wakes up,” Dean muttered, cringing a little as she yanked him into a hug.  “He’ll know I’m not really dead.”

Ellen snorted, squeezing him hard before she pushed him away.  Her soul was weirdly strong.  “How can you not be dead?  What are you, some kind of angel?”

“Long story,” Dean said.  “Look, you know about Cas?”

“All I need to,” Ellen replied.  “Saved you boys about a dozen times, can drink to drown a fish, ganked Raphael.  He gets my vote for sheriff.”

“Yeah?” Dean glanced around.  Castiel’s attention had relaxed, assuming Dean was just visiting friends.  “You’re not pissed about the way he did it?”

“We’re all still around to beg forgiveness,” Ellen said.  “That counts for a lot.”

“Yeah,” Dean said.  “Okay.  I gotta go; I’ll see you again.”

“Sooner than I’d like, I’m sure,” Ellen said.

Pastor Jim didn’t look surprised to see him either.  “Hello, son,” he said with a smile.  “I heard you’re here about God.”

So much for humans not knowing what was going on, Dean thought.  “How did you –”

The other man’s gaze slid past his shoulder, and Dean turned.  Behind him were angels.  Dozens, fifty, a hundred or more, their numbers growing even as he watched.  And he could feel them.  He knew who they were.

“Raphael was doing what he believed his father wanted him to do,” Pastor Jim said quietly.  “What he thought was right according to everything he knew.  How many of us can say the same?”

The angels just stood there.  Undemanding but not apathetic.  Hopeful, somehow, even after everything.

“How do we start over?” Dean asked under his breath.

“Try to start over and you’ll just end up back here,” Pastor Jim replied.  “The only way on is through.”

You’ll always end up here.

“Funny,” Dean said without thinking.  “My brother said the same thing.”

He didn’t have to look at Pastor Jim to know he was smiling.  “Sometimes messages repeat until we’re ready to hear them.”

I gave everything for you.

Dean winced with the force of the words, and heaven shifted around him.

“What are you doing?” Castiel wanted to know.  “I told you to rest.”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” Dean said flippantly.  “Oh, wait.”

“Dean,” Castiel said.  Dean could feel the ever-growing army of angels at his back standing against the taciturn displeasure emanating from Castiel.  “These are followers of Raphael.”

“Not anymore,” Dean said.  “They’re ready to follow us now.”

The angels were ready to follow Michael.  They both knew it perfectly well.  But if Cas was going to pretend he was Dean – and everyone else was going to let him – they might be able to avoid meting out severe punishment indefinitely.  A lack of severe punishment had to be a good thing.

“They must understand the... error that they made,” Castiel said.  His tone was still gentle in that creepy psychopathic killer way.  “It’s for their own good.”

“Did being punished help you?” Dean countered.  “When they tortured you for helping us, and Balthazar stood up for you, did it change anything?”

“People who make the wrong decisions must be corrected,” Castiel said.  “Free will isn’t anarchy, Dean.”

“Did torturing you change your mind about which side you were on,” Dean repeated.  “Yes or no.”

“I can change their minds,” Castiel said.  “They will worship me as their god.  As you do.”

“They already do!” Dean insisted.  “They’re ready to bow to you, man; look at them!  They’re waiting for your orders!”

Castiel’s gaze flicked over them and Dean couldn’t help adding, “Congratulations.  You’ve managed to undo everything you were fighting for.  I hope it’s worth it.”

Castiel tilted his head, their eyes meeting once more.  “I was fighting to defeat Raphael.  I accomplished that end.”

“No,” Dean said forcefully.  “You were fighting to be free.  You were fighting so you and your friends could make their own decisions, good or bad.  Now you’re free – arguably – and you’re ready to enslave everyone else all over again.”

“No,” Castiel echoed.  Then he added, “Only the disobedient ones.”

“Only the disobedient ones?” Dean repeated.  “The ones like you, you mean?”

“They would have torn heaven apart,” Castiel said.  He sounded almost irritated, which was good and bad.  Good, because he would be easier to reason with if he cared about the conversation.  Bad, because Dean still wasn’t sure he wanted to tick off a god.

“The war tore heaven apart,” Dean said.

“Are you saying I should have surrendered?” Castiel asked.

“I’m saying the only dead angels were on your side,” Dean told him.  “And it wasn’t Raphael’s followers who killed them.”

“You blame me for their betrayals,” Castiel said.

“I blame you for their deaths,” Dean said.  “Because you’re the one who killed them.  We can’t control other people’s actions, Cas.  Only our own.  That’s practically the definition of free will.”

Castiel considered that for a long moment.  “I could bring them back,” he said at last.

“I’m sure they wouldn’t say no,” Dean said.  “The point is that you can’t tell people ‘do whatever you want’ and then be like ‘oh, except that’ and expect them to learn anything.”

“Yes,” Castiel said.  “Your style of leadership has always been so educational.”

The sad part was that Dean couldn’t tell whether he meant it or not.  Castiel was still mastering sarcasm.  And air quotes.

“Everyone makes mistakes,” Dean said.  “That’s how we learn, Cas.  By dealing with the consequences of our actions.  Not by following someone else’s orders.”

“These are the consequences of their actions,” Castiel said.

“This is you being a dick,” Dean said.  “Come on, Cas, what the fuck.  They pushed you around so you’re gonna push back, is that it?  Be the bigger man here.”

“I’m God,” Castiel reminded him.  Like he’d forgotten.

“So you can afford to make an exception,” Dean said.  “God forgives, Cas.”

“God is just,” Castiel countered.

“God is effective,” Dean said.  “Tell me what difference it’ll make to punish ’em now.  You’ve already won.”

“It’s fair,” Castiel said.

“It’s stupid!” Dean snapped.  “An eye for an eye is bully talk!  You can be like them or you can be different.  You’ve always been different, Cas.  It’s the most awesome thing about you.”

Castiel was studying him.  “I’ve always done what you asked,” he said.

“We always trusted you,” Dean said, because they were going to settle this or die trying.

Well.  He would die trying.  Cas would just snap his fingers.

“You were always a god to us,” Dean said.  “Don’t you get that?  The mind-reading and the flying and the smiting shit – humans can’t do that, Cas.  As far as me and Sammy were concerned, you were all-powerful.

“We were raised to kill non-human things,” he added.  “Our whole life we thought that was the right thing to do.  We meet you and not only can we not kill you, we kind of like you.  We kind of think maybe, just maybe, you’re looking out for us.

“So we trust you.  Through all the threats and the lies and the torture, through the freakin’ apocalypse, the games your friends played.  The times we called and you didn’t answer.  We believed in you, man.  We trusted that you’d come back, that you thought we mattered, that you wouldn’t let your friends kill us just because we were annoying.”

“You are annoying,” Castiel said.

“Yeah, not news,” Dean said.  “You’re not exactly easy to get along with right now either.”

Or ever, he thought, uncaring whether Castiel heard him or not.

“The point is,” he said aloud, “you’re pretty much the same as you were before, to us.  You’re the guy who faced the end of everything with us.  We can’t love you any more.”

“You can’t?” Castiel asked, frowning a little.

“I can’t,” Dean said.  You’re my brother.  “I love you.”

It seemed to stump Castiel in a way nothing else had.  He didn’t let himself think about why.  He could feel the rest of the host waiting with him, soldiers and not, angels caught up in every part of heaven’s dirty little war.

“You should return to earth,” Castiel said at last.  “Sam needs you.”

Just like that, he was standing in Bobby’s kitchen.  Facing the window.

There were angels in the driveway.

His felt his phone vibrate, and from the next room he heard Bobby mutter, “Come on, boy.  Get your sorry ass back down here.”

Dean turned away from the window, ignored his phone, and grinned at the look on Bobby’s face when he appeared out of the darkness.  It was a grin that fell away when he caught sight of Sam.  Convulsing on the couch – he must have woken up at least once; there was no way Bobby had moved him – and if his closed eyes were any indication, trapped in a nightmare he couldn’t get out of.

“Can’t wake him up,” Bobby said.  The fear was unmistakable under his gruff concern.  “Figured you might have some ideas.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, staring at Sam.  A vessel is like an open phone line.  “One or two.  But you’re not gonna like ’em.”

“Will it help Sam?” Bobby countered.

“Probably not,” Dean said.

“You’re right,” Bobby said, eyeing him.  “I don’t like it.”

Dean laid a hand on Sam’s forehead.  The body on the couch arched into his touch before falling, limp against the cushions while his mind quieted and his soul went numb.  “Ave praeclara omnibus angelicis vertutibus,” he murmured.  “Ut Lucifer lux oriens, verum solem praeveniens.”

He was standing in the cage.  His brother leaned against a wall on the far side, wings spitting as they shied from the boundary, even after all this time.  Singed and gray and pretending not to be surprised.  “It worked,” Lucifer said.

Michael didn’t have much time.  “It worked,” he agreed.  “But we can’t kill him.”

Lucifer frowned.  “He lit you up with burning holy oil,” he said.  “I want him dead.”

“I don’t,” Michael said simply.

Lucifer shrugged, but Michael knew he was being studied.  His brother would find a way to use this against him.  “Fine,” he said.  “Castiel lives.  I assume Dean is keeping him under control.”

“We’re getting there,” Michael muttered.  “We’ll have to let Adam’s soul go.”

“I’m keeping the vessel,” Lucifer warned.

“I know.”  He could already hear Castiel’s wings, burning strong and sure through the hell that raged around them.  “He’s almost here.”

Lucifer straightened, Adam’s skinny body unfolding from its slouch, and for one brief moment they stood side by side.  Brothers torn asunder, the first children of God united once again.  As their father had intended.

Then Michael was slammed up against the boundary and pain shredded his awareness as the locks began to explode.  Can’t make it too easy for him, he heard Lucifer say.  They had already agreed: Castiel couldn’t know, not if Dean was to have any sway over him, but it still felt like betrayal.

Lucifer, too, was thrown back as the final wall blew inward.  Castiel was exactly as strong as he seemed.  He was also, as it turned out, not entirely stupid.  When Lucifer flung himself into flight instead of battle, Castiel covered Michael with his grace, put his head down, and let him go.

“Hey,” Dean gasped, focusing on Sam as hard as he could.  He buried his hands in feathers that were ice cold and hissing with the heat of hell.  “He’ll want Sam.”

Castiel, crumpled from the trip and leaking life in all directions, gathered him up and pulled him free of the cage without hesitation.  They tumbled out of the air at Bobby’s house, crashing into wards so fresh they hadn’t had time to dry.  The glow of dawn was already spreading from one horizon to the next.

Dean stared up at the sky from under a dirty wing, watching a tired soul blaze its way home.

Dean, he heard Castiel say.

“Still here,” he whispered.  “You okay?”

He could feel grace spilling over him even as Castiel’s awful power fused him back together from the inside out.  It was ugly and twisted and he didn’t care, because it meant Cas wasn’t going to die for him.  Not again.  Not this time.

No, Castiel said.  Lucifer is loose.

Unspoken was the sure knowledge that Lucifer was stronger than he was.

“Not stronger than all of us,” Dean said softly.  “We can hold heaven, Cas.”

The broken body wrapped around his didn’t move, but he could feel one of those wings twitch as the energy healed.  What about earth?

“Dean!”  Sam’s voice was punctuated by the slamming door.

“Stay there!” Dean shouted back.  The strength it took to yell jostled Cas, just the smallest bit, and he heard the angel whimper.  Going back to the cage had messed him up but good.

“Who we talking to?” Bobby demanded, from just inside the safety of the wards.

“It’s us,” Dean said.  If he couldn’t yell, they’d just have to listen harder.  The grace bleeding out of Cas had slowed to a trickle, and he could see the other wing tremble as feeling was restored.  “We’re okay.  Don’t leave the wards.”

“Dean,” Castiel mumbled.

“Just heal yourself,” Dean told him.  “I got your vessel.”

He poured grace into Castiel’s human body, felt it stiffen and jerk and knew he wasn’t as good at this as Cas was.  Cas healed him without him even noticing, but the power of an archangel was raw and scorching through his bones.  “Sorry,” Dean whispered.

“Since when do you apologize?” Castiel murmured.  He still hadn’t moved.

“Since the stuff I didn’t say fucked us up so bad I don’t even recognize you anymore.”

There was a long moment of stillness, an incomplete silence that sounded like the end of everything.

Then Dean blinked, and Castiel was standing over him.  “I accept your apology,” he said gravely.  He stared down at Dean like he was trying to decide whether to kill him or just walk away.

Castiel held out his hand, fingers splayed, wrist bent at an unnatural angle.  It took Dean a second to recognize the gesture.  It wasn’t like angels helped each other up, so how would he know?

Dean caught Castiel’s hand in his own and staggered to his feet.  “Thanks,” he said.

“I’m sorry, too,” Castiel said.

Dean froze.  Castiel was looking over his shoulder.  He could see for himself that Bobby’s house was ringed by soldiers, and Cas wouldn’t have to go through him to get to them.  He could rain fire in any direction he wanted.

Then Cas was looking at him again, a typically curious expression on his face.  “This is how arguments end, is it not?  With the offending parties offering their apologies to each other?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, blowing out his breath in a sigh.  He wasn’t sure they were in the clear, but he could only take so much paralyzing fear at a time.  “We’re cool, Cas.”

If only saying it made it true.

“But we’re still angry with each other,” Castiel said.

Dean would have worried more about the fact that Sam and Bobby were listening to this entire conversation if he wasn’t trying to figure out what the hell it was about.  “Uh,” he said.  “We are?”

“You’re not angry with me?” Castiel asked.

“No,” Dean said.  Then he thought about it.  “Well, kind of.  I guess.”

“You don’t want me to punish our brothers,” Castiel said.

“Your brothers,” Dean said quickly.  “Killing angels is creepy, Cas.  Not very god-like.”

“I don’t want to pull you out of hell again,” Castiel said.

“Yeah, well,” Dean said.  “I don’t want you to have to.  How ’bout you stop killing angels, and I’ll stay out of hell.”

He wasn’t sure who was more surprised when Castiel replied, “That seems like a reasonable arrangement.”

He was still staring when Castiel added, “We’ll have to kiss, of course.  To seal the deal.”

“You’re kidding,” Dean blurted out.  No way did Cas not know the difference between demon deals and human agreements.

The corner of Castiel’s mouth quirked.  “Of course,” he said.  “It’s never bound you before.”

It was the weirdest thing, but that was what made him reach out.  “You stupid bastard,” he muttered, settling his hand on Castiel’s shoulder.  Then he couldn’t think of anything else to say, so he just leaned in and pressed his mouth to Castiel’s.

It was weird and warm and everything he hadn’t expected.  It was human.  It was so much like kissing anyone else that he thought there might be more wrong with Cas than he’d realized.

“We sure they’re not possessed?” Bobby grumbled, still far enough away that Dean could pretend he didn’t hear.

“I dunno,” Sam said after a pause.  “It actually explains a lot.”

Dean drew in a breath, letting his forehead rest against Castiel’s.  “Can I shoot them?” he muttered.  Maybe loud enough for Sam to catch.  Maybe not.

“I doubt it,” Castiel said.  “You’re physically capable, but your moral code has repeatedly proven too strong to overcome.”

He heard more than an answer in those words, and Dean pulled away with a vague sense of regret.  “That why you didn’t come to me when Raphael turned on you?  You figured I wouldn’t be into brother-killing?”

Castiel gave him an odd look.  “You’ve demonstrated no reluctance to destroy angels, Dean.”

Right.  Obviously.  Because angels were dicks.

“I did come,” Castiel said, more quietly.  “I stood before you.  I stood with you, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask.”

This, right here, was the answer he needed.  “Why not?” Dean demanded.

“Because I finally found something you weren’t curious about,” Castiel told him.

Understanding crashed home, and he wished he could give it back.  “Heaven,” Dean said.

“Heaven,” Castiel repeated.  His gaze was blue and unforgiving.  “Of all the things you had to know, things you wouldn’t let go or overlook or dismiss because you were told to – it was heaven that you ignored.”

“Heaven had you,” Dean said.

Michael knew, of course.  He knew everything there was to know about heaven, so there was no point in asking.  But Castiel thought he was alone, and he thought that not asking meant not caring.  Dean was the one who had to reach him.

It would be Dean or no one, and they all knew it.

“What?” Castiel said.

“Cas,” Dean said carefully.  “You thought I was gonna save earth.  You never asked how; you never questioned.  You just believed.”

“The righteous man who begins it –”

“The righteous man, I know, I get it,” Dean interrupted.  “But you’re an angel.  You pulled me out of hell.  What the fuck, man; who does that?  That’s crazy!”

“I was ordered to save you,” Castiel said, apparently bewildered.  He hadn’t looked so confused since before the lab, and Dean could only hope that was a good thing.

“Yeah, I know,” he said.  “The point is you believed, Cas.  You believed I would save the world.  And you know what?  Turns out I believed in you too.”

“That I would save... heaven,” Castiel said slowly.

Dean shrugged.  “You’re the fucking miracle angel, Cas.  What couldn’t you do?”

“Stop this,” Castiel said.  His voice was very quiet.  “I couldn’t – I couldn’t stop this.”

“Stop what?” Dean asked.  “Look around you; you won.  Heaven is yours and the world’s still turning.  Hell is... hellish, but come on.  What do you expect, right?”

“Raphael may be gone,” Castiel muttered, “but Lucifer walks the earth.”  Staring back at Dean, he added, “It was all for nothing.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Dean said, then frowned.  “Wait, what?  What was all for nothing?”

“Raphael wanted to restart the apocalypse,” Castiel said.  “He wanted to free Lucifer.  To undo everything you and Sam fought for, everything you sacrificed – to make it all meaningless.  To take away what peace you’d found.  I couldn’t let him.”

“Wait,” Dean repeated.  “You stood up to Raphael, not for your angel buddies... but for me and Sam?”

“It hardly matters,” Castiel said.  “I lost.  He’s dead, and I still lost.  I suppose it’s what you call a pyrrhic victory.”

“Dean,” Sam said.  Dean could feel it the moment he stepped past the boundary of the wards, but his best glare couldn’t deter his brother.  “He didn’t do it for us.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean snapped.  “He just said he did.”

“He did it for you,” Sam said, nodding toward Castiel.

The angel with super god-like powers was staring at the ground, wings slumped against his back like he’d forgotten they were there.  Not as strong as he’d been when they met.  Tired, now.  Conflicted.

Dean wondered if it was arrogant to ask, Did I do that?

“Yes,” Castiel told the ground.  “I’ve said it often enough, but you refuse to hear.  This time I thought to spare you.  It didn’t turn out as well as I’d hoped.”

Dean knew the signs of shock, and only now did he understand that they were working in his favor.  Stopping Cas from grasping the magnitude of it – from feeling the certainty of angels that would tell him he had failed.  Who knew what a god would do if he decided it all came to nothing in the end?

What if he decided it already had?

“Cas,” Dean said.  “We never wanted to fight the devil.”

Castiel lifted his head, and the look he gave Dean said plainly, Do you think I’m stupid?

“We wanted to stop the devil,” Dean told him.  “Because we didn’t want innocent people to die.  That’s all we’ve ever done, Cas.  Try to save as many as we can.  Sometimes that means shooting the werewolf, and sometimes it means grabbing Lucifer and jumping into the pit.

“Sometimes it works,” he added.  “Sometimes it doesn’t.  What matters is that we get up the next day and try again.”

“Dean,” Sam said.

He wasn’t even supposed to be there, and Dean scowled at him.

“We stick together,” Sam said.  Which was funny coming from him, but maybe all that leaving gave him some perspective.  He glanced at Cas as he repeated, “What matters is we stick together.”

“If doing so would put us all in danger,” Castiel began.

“Then we find a way to get out of danger,” Dean interrupted.  “All of us.”

“Well,” Sam said.  “Historically one of us tries to protect the other, then the other finds out and yells at him, and then we smack each other around a little.”

“Then we find a way to get out of danger,” Dean repeated.

“Right,” Sam agreed.  “I think you guys covered the first three steps.  Let’s just skip to the getting out of danger part.”

“There’s no way out,” Castiel said.  “Even I’m not strong enough to destroy Lucifer.”

“Not alone,” Sam said.  “Dean says you’re down a few angels.  You think bringing ’em back would help?”

“No,” Castiel said.

“Yes,” Dean countered.  “We’re gonna need ’em.”

“They won’t help,” Castiel said.

“Everyone who matters helps,” Dean told him.  “You just gotta ask.”

“How do you know they matter?” Castiel asked.

Dean shrugged, because okay, Balthazar wasn’t his favorite person ever.  But Castiel had forgiven him, once.  That had to count for something.  “You like ’em,” he said.  “That’s good enough for me.”

Just like that, Balthazar was standing beside Cas.  Rachel was at his right hand.  Dean could feel the familiar and entirely unexpected presence of an archangel on either side of him, and he didn’t need the stunned expression on Sam’s face to tell him who it was.

“Michael,” Raphael said reverently.  Wonderingly.

“Cassy?” Balthazar muttered, and there was no denying it: Balthazar trusted his friend over an archangel, even now.  Apparently Cas wasn’t the only forgiving one.

“No,” Rachel said, looking from one of them to the other.  “No, absolutely not.  I won’t serve hell – not in any form.”

She was gone before Castiel could finish saying her name.

“Let her go,” Dean said quickly, trying to forestall some kind of... un-Cas-like impulsiveness.  “She’s exactly what you wanted, Cas.  An angel who thinks for herself.”

Gabriel hadn’t said a thing, but Dean got an odd look for that.  A strangely serious look, from the resident herald-turned-prankster.  Justice in every form, he would say, and it was weird that Dean knew that, weird that he could remember Gabriel saying it.  Repeatedly.

And also, Castiel hadn’t killed Gabriel.

“You like him,” Castiel said.  In answer to the question he hadn’t asked.  “It’s good enough for me.”

 “What about Raphael?” Sam wanted to know.  The rest was unspoken but obvious: no one likes him.

God does, Dean thought, unbidden.

“It’s a worse punishment for Raphael to live in an imperfect world than to leave it,” Castiel said calmly.  “There will be no further betrayals.”

It was more of a warning than a gesture of forgiveness.  On the other hand, hey: he’d brought them back.  That was a damn sight more than a baby step right there.

“Interesting plan,” Balthazar said, folding his arms.  “What’s my role, then?”

Yo, Michael.  Gabriel didn’t move.  Your bitch of a brother killed me.

Dean rolled his eyes.  Leave it to Gabriel to disown them selectively.  Like that makes you special.

Gabriel seemed genuinely taken aback by this, and Dean didn’t think it was the wittiness of his reply.

The kid say yes? Gabriel asked at last.

Dean shook his head once, but they’d already gotten Castiel’s attention.  “Dean is my lieutenant and voice in all things,” he said.  “He has grace sufficient to allow him access to all of heaven, and power enough to serve properly.  You will obey him as you would obey me.”

Sam didn’t look impressed, and Dean knew what he was thinking: damn.  No magical reset button for Cas.  At least he was talking to them now.

Balthazar’s expression screamed The monkey? or maybe So we’re still calling him Dean?  It was hard to tell whose presence he was more skeptical of, Dean’s or Michael’s.  He nodded right along with Raphael, though, both of them like they were bowing to the president or something, which would have been more hilarious if Castiel couldn’t have actually erased them from existence.

And then there was Gabriel.

“Well, boys,” he drawled, taking in the silent angels and their fraying control.  Gabriel had always been able to get away with murder.  “This should be interesting.  Drop me a postcard to let me know how it turns out.”