war heroes

[creepylicious]

II. Lost Souls

~1~
Castiel could never really help himself. Or maybe that's a big fat lie, he could never help himself when it came to Dean. Since the first time they met, since the time Dean tried to kill him, since that day Dean had Castiel fascinated and he knew it.
He tried to get away from it. He tried to be a proper Angel of the Lord, whatever that meant now, but it didn't work. He was corrupted.
He is corrupted and there is no way out, no way back to the time when Dean wasn't such a big part of Castiel's life.

~+~
“Castiel? Hello? Possible loose nuke down here, angelic weapon. Kinda your department. You hear that, Cas?” Dean says, draining his glass.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel answers. He doesn't know what else to say. There are a million things, a million things he has to care about, should care about more, but then there are always a million things and this is not the time and it's not the place either.

“Are you kidding me? I have been on red alert about Sam, and you come for some stupid horn?!” Dean is pissed and Castiel can understand it, but he can't help Dean.

“You asked me to be here, and I came.”

“I - I've been asking you to be here for days, you dick!”

“I didn't come about Sam because I have nothing to offer about Sam,” Castiel replies. Sometimes it's so hard to be there for Dean and then all Dean is willing to talk about is Sam. And it always was Sam and it always will be Sam.

“Well, that's great, because for all we know, he's just gift wrap for Lucifer,” Dean answers.

“No, he's... he's not Lucifer,” Castiel says, because if there is something he knows and can share, well it's that. He grabs the bottle of whisky, not that he can get drunk, but God, he wishes right now he could.

“And how do you know that?” Dean wants to know.

“If Lucifer escaped the cage, we'd feel it,” he says, refilling Dean's glass. Sometimes it's easier to deal with Dean when he's drunk. Castiel remembers the taste of whisky in his mouth when they kissed. He remembers because he can never forget. These days it's more like a curse than a blessing.

“What is wrong with him?”

“I don't know, Dean. I'm sorry,” Castiel answers. And it's a lie. It's all a lie, but he just wants to hold onto it a bit longer.

Dean sighs, it's so soft it would barely steer up a feather. “What happened to you, Cas? You used to be human, or at least like one.”

“I'm at war. Certain... regrettable things are now required of me.” That's one way of putting it, he thinks and it's a bitter taste in his mouth. All these lies.

“And Gabriel's Horn of Truth? That's a real thing?”

“You've seen it?” Castiel asks, glad that they're changing the subject.

“We think it's in town. Something's forcing people-”
If it's the Horn, he can just check it out real quick and be right back. “Oh, well, you're welcome!” he hears Dean yelling as he disappears.

It's not the Horn. “It isn't the Horn of Truth,” he says, reappearing. That much he can do for Dean. After everything he's screwed up.

“What are you talking about? You were gone for like two seconds. Where did you look?” Dean asks.

“Everywhere.”

“Right. Well, nice seeing you, anyway,” Dean says.

“Dean.” He feels helpless. He wants to make this right, but he has no way of making this right and he knows it. There are all these things, all these things he can't tell Dean. And the things he doesn't want to tell Dean.

“What?”

“About your brother. I... I don't know what's wrong with him, but I do want to help. I'll make inquiries.” It's the least he can say. He needs to go, he needs to be out of here, so he disappears.
Leaving Dean with his whisky and his worries about his brother.

~+~
Castiel remembers when things were different. He remembers when he didn't have to lie to win a war. He remembers when things between them were easier.
He remembers dying.
He remembers coming back. Remembers Dean's warmth. The wonder in his eyes.

“Cas, you're alive?” Dean asked.

“I'm better than that,” he said. And the truth was, that he was better than not dead. He was feeling alive, before everything went to hell.

“Cas, are you god?” Dean had asked and Castiel, he was so full of something and now he thinks it was happiness.

“That's a nice compliment. But no. Although, I do believe he brought me back. New and improved,” he answered and he believed it too.

He doesn't believe it anymore. He was brought back and he's pretty sure it was by God too, but he doesn't think he is improved.
But he will be. Everything will be alright again.

~+~
Hotel rooms at night bring a whole lot of memories with them, Castiel thinks.

“You're right. He looks terrible,” Castiel says with a look at Sam. Sam looks like he had an encounter with a train. “You did this?” he asks Dean.

“Cas? What's -” Sam tries and then as he realises he's bound. “Let me go.”

“Has he been feverish?” Castiel asks.

“Have you?”

“No. Why?” Sam asks.

“Is he speaking in tongues?” Castiel wants to know and then realizing Sam is right there and able to answer all his questions; “Are you speaking in tongues?”

“No. What are you... Are you diagnosing me?” Sam asks, which is exactly what Castiel is doing and he has a bad feeling about this. He’s has a bad feeling about Sam since the day he raised him from the cage. Since he saw Sam walk away from Dean and the light and into the night. To hunt things, like there wasn't anything left worth living for. He couldn't bring himself to stop and check back then, it was easier to not know. He wasn't given the luxury now. This here was a moment of truth that he avoided for far too long.

“You better hope he can,” Dean throws in.

“You really think that this is -” Sam begins, but Dean cuts him off and not too kindly.

“What, you think that there's a clinic out there for people who just pop out of hell? Wrong. He asks, you answer! Then you shut your hole. You got it?”

“How much do you sleep?” Castiel wants to know. He has to get this right.

“I don't.”

“At all?” Dean asks unbelievingly.

“Not since I got back.”

“And it never occurred to you that there might be something off about that?!” Dean says.

“Of course it did, Dean. I-I just never told you,” Sam answers.

“What?”

“Sam... What are you feeling now?” Castiel asks, looking at him closely.
Sam scoffs at them. Maybe at Dean, maybe at Castiel. One good thing is that he doesn't remember that it was Castiel who raised him from the pit. “I feel like my nose is broken.”

“No, that's a physical sensation. How do you feel?” Castiel clarifies.

“Well, I think -”

“Feel.,” Castiel cuts in.

“I...Don't know,” Sam answers and then probably noticing Castiel's worry. “What? Uh...”

“This will be unpleasant.” He doesn't want to do this. He doesn't want to know. That is the simple truth. But it's not like he's going to back down on it now.

“What -”

Castiel cuts him off again. If he has to deal with this. If he has to do this and he has to, for Dean he has to do this, he'll rather do it now without further discussions. “Bite down on this. If there's some place that you find soothing, you should go there. In your mind.”
He takes a deep breath and reaches into Sam's ribcage. He ignores the screams and the heavy breathing, the agony, the pain and then he tries to ignore for a second what is right there too. He did it wrong and he should have known, he shouldn't have even tried. He pulls his hand out as gently as he can. He can't look at Dean right now.

“Did you find anything?” Dean asks.

“No,” he says simply. He is sure that Dean doesn't understand, but he needs a few more seconds to process and come up with a plan.

“So that's good news?” Dean asks.

“I'm afraid not. Physically, he's perfectly healthy,” Castiel says. It's not a lie and it's a good thing, a relief that he can tell the truth for once.

“Then what?”

“It's his soul. It's gone,” Castiel states. There's nothing else left to say.

There is a moment of silence before Dean speaks again: “I'm s- I'm sorry. One more time, like I'm 5. What do you mean, he's got no -”

“Somehow, when Sam was resurrected, it was without his soul,” Castiel answers before Dean can finish the sentence. He doesn't want to be here with Sam, who doesn't have a soul because of him. Dean can never find out about this.

“So, where is it?” Dean wants to know.

“My guess is... Still in the cage with Michael and Lucifer.”

“So, is he even still Sam?”

“Well, you pose an interesting philosophical question,” Castiel answers and wishes he could get drunk. So badly.

“Well, then, just get it back,” Dean says.

He wishes by God that it was that easy, but it's not. He screwed that one up epically. “Dean.” He feels helpless again. He feels like he's bleeding.

“Well, you pulled me out,” Dean says.

“It took several angels to rescue you, and you weren't nearly as well guarded. Sam's soul is in Lucifer's cage. There's a difference, a big difference. It's not possible,” he answers. He believes it too. He doesn't think he can even try without being torn to screeds.

“Okay, well, there's got to be a way.”

“So, are you gonna untie me?” Sam asks.

“No.”

“Sam, Dean... I have to get back,” he throws in. He needs to get away from them. He needs to get away from Dean. He needs-

“You're leaving?” There is something in Dean's voice he doesn't like. There is something in Dean's voice that cuts him. Way too deep for something that isn't even a weapon.

“I'm in the middle of a civil war.”

“You better tear the attic up, find something to help Sam,” Dean says.

“Of course. Your problems always come first. I'll be in touch.” He vanishes.

~2~
He makes mistakes. He tries to do the right thing, but he keeps making mistakes and other people are paying for his mistakes. His friends are paying for his mistakes. It's not right, but he can't help it. There is a bigger picture here to see. There is civil war in heaven. He needs to stop the apocalypse again and he was so sure he could do it this time without involving Dean, but that didn't turn out like he planned.

~+~
The only good thing is that Sam is back to normal more or less and that he still can't remember who rescued him from Lucifer's cage. Even if he isn't sure anymore if it was a good thing to do. Probably not.

~+~
All the things he did are coming back to haunt him. To hunt him down. He can't not answer Dean's calls. He knows he should. He knows that Crowley is right. He is losing control of the situation.
He just can't help himself and he never could.

~+~
The stench of death and blood isn't anything he doesn't know how to deal with. Still what Crowley is doing, it's not something he wishes to witness, but there is nothing he can do about it now anyway. You make your bed and you lie in it.

“Howdy, partner.”

“What have you found?”

“I've found a lot of things. For example...Eve's brain? Dead as a tinned kipper. And yet,” Crowley says, reaching inside Eve and pulling out a handful of eggs, “for some reason...She keeps laying eggs. Watch this,” he goes on. Crowley takes a poker and stabs Eve's brain. The vampire in the corner seizes violently. “Chocula here feels every tickle.”

“What is that good for?”

“Apart from the obvious erotic value, you got me,” Crowley answers.

“You said Eve could open the door to Purgatory,” Castiel states. He needs results and fast. The war is taking too long as it is.

“Correct. I did. And I'm confident that she could have if she was still alive! Single best chance to get over the rainbow, and the Winchesters killed her!”

“It was unavoidable,” Castiel answers. Maybe it was. He needed to keep all this a secret from the brothers. He needed to keep it a secret from Dean.

“You screwed up, Cas. You let the hounds mangle the pheasant, and now I am up to my elbows in it,” Crowley explodes.

“What is your point?” And can everyone call him by his nickname now? He has bigger problems, but when this is over he's going to rip Crowley's tongue out. And he will enjoy it.

“The point is...You're distracted, and that makes me nervous.”

“I am holding up my end.” He feels frustrated and tired. All too human.

“Ah, yes. But is that all you're holding?” Crowley asks with a look. “ See...the stench of that Impala's all over your overcoat, angel.” He steps back. “I thought we'd agreed - no more nights out with the boys.”

Some things he needs to keep to himself, but there is no hiding Dean's scent from Crowley. It's a dangerous game he's playing and he knows it. “I spoke with Dean. I needed to know what they know.“

“About what? About me, maybe? 'Cause I happen to have it on good authority that your two little pets are currently trying to hunt me down! Forgive me, but I think you might have a little conflict of interest here.”
Crowley has a point of course, his interests are conflicted. He's still considering himself the Winchesters' guardian. After all...they taught him how to stand up. Everything he is now, is because he chose them over the angels. Because he chose Dean over God and God didn't mind.

~+~
And now he's spying on his friends. He's lying, sweeping evidence under the rug, so to speak and the hardest part of it all is watching Dean. Seeing how he still believes in Castiel. Even if every instinct in his body is telling him otherwise.
He still thinks he can make this work. As long as they don't know. As long as Dean doesn't know and get mixed up in all this, he can still win the war, save the world and Heaven and defeat the devil he knows.

~3~
There is a point where you realize that everything is lost. Castiel has no idea when it came, he knows that he didn't leave the train-wreak about to happen fast enough. Soon enough. While he still could.

~+~
Saving people, that was what he was in for. He wanted to make the world a better place. A place where people like Lisa and Ben could live without needing to worry to be eaten alive by things that go bump in the night. He is still full of rigorous anger when he gets back to Crowley's lab.

“You sent demons after them?”

“You kill my hunters. Why can't I kill yours?”

“They're my friends,” Castiel answers. They still are. They still trust him.

“You can't have friends, not anymore. I mean, my God. You're losing it!” Crowley explodes

“I'm fine.” But it's a lie and they both know it. He is not fine. He is so far from fine, he can't even see fine from where he is anymore.

“Yeah. You're the very picture of mental health. Come on. You don't think I know what this is all about?” Crowley asks.

“Enlighten me.”

“The big lie, “ Crowley answers. “The Winchesters still buy it. The good Cas, the righteous Cas. And as long as they still believe it, you get to believe it. Well, I got news for you, kitten. A whore is a whore is a whore.”
One thing is sure Crowley doesn't believe in sugar counting things for anyone, especially not for him.
He explodes. He is so angry at - everyone. At himself, at Crowley for telling the truth. They say all demons lie and it's true, but everyone does and when demons do tell the truth you can be sure that they hit where it really hurts. He shoves Crowley against the wall, hard.

“I'm only gonna say this once,” he hisses, “if you touch a hair on their heads, I will tear it all down. Our arrangement --everything. I'm still an angel, and I will bury you.”
And as he disappears he asks himself what on God's earth he's doing with someone like Crowely. But the thing is, he knows the answer to that question.

~+~
In the moments between the battles, the war, the hunt for things, dealing with Crowley, in the saner moments he is heavily questioning what he's doing.
But then he's thinking about Dean and what they lost the first time around, because it's not only about what Dean lost: Sam. It's about what Castiel lost too. His faith and he gained a free will. Like a human being. The difference is that he isn't a human being, never was one. Doesn't know how to work, how to be a sane person. He has all this power now, he has all this responsibility and it's suffocating him.
The only times he feels like he can breathe are when he's with Dean. Sitting in the Impala, watching him, talking to him.
Stealing seconds, minutes, hours in the middle of the night to see Dean smile.
They are few and far between these days. These precious moments.
And they're getting lost in the blood he's walking knee-deep in.

~4~
You don't always see the end coming. Castiel is very aware that he just ignored all the warning signs.

“Castiel, uh...We need you for a little powwow down here, so come on down.”

And as stated before he just can't help himself when it comes to Dean.
“Hello.”

“Oh, Johnny on the spot,” Bobby says.

“You're still here,” Castiel answers. He is wondering. Just a bit. Shouldn't they better leave the crime-scene, so to speak? Don't they think other demons might come here to check on their version of Bobby Singer?

“Yeah, we had to bury the bodies,” Sam throws in.

“And we found a little whiskey. Thanks for coming,” Dean says.

“How can I help?”

“Oh, look. We, um - we have a new plan. We think we've finally figured out a way to track down Crowley,” Sam answers.

“What is it?” He isn't worried yet. He can still intercept whatever they have planed for Crowley.

Bobby lights a match and drops it on the floor by Castiel's feet. “It's you.”

He's trapped and he knows it. He knows- “What are you doing?”

“We gotta talk,” Dean says.

“About what? Let me go!”

“About Superman. And Kryptonite,” Dean answers.

“How'd you know what I said?” Bobby wants to know.

“How long you been watching us?” Sam throws in.

“You know who spies on people, Cas?” Dean says and without waiting for an answer: “Spies.”

“Okay, just wait. I don't even know what you mean.” And he is a bit confused, even if he knew that this day was coming.

“What about this demon crap hole? How is it so, uh...'Next to godliness' clean in here?” Sam says.

“And how exactly did Crowley trick you with the wrong bones?” Bobby looks like he wants to rip the answer out of Castiel's brain.

“It's hard to understand. It's hard to explain. Just let me go. Let me out and I can -”

“You got to look at me, man. You got to level with me and tell me what's going on. Look me in the eye and tell me you're not working with Crowley,” Dean says and Castiel tries, he really tries. He looks Dean in the eyes, but he can't stand it. He can't lie to Dean when they're like this. When Dean looks at him like he's the only one who can save him and, Castiel realizes it in that moment - he's not that person. Not anymore. “You son of a bitch.”

But he is not evil. “Let me explain.”

“You're in it with him? You and Crowley have been going after Purgatory together? You have, huh? This whole time.” It's not a question anymore. Dean knows. Made all the right connections.

“I did it to protect you,” he answers and then, because this never was only about Dean, about them: “I did it to protect all of you.”

“Protect us how? By opening a hole into monsterland,” Sam says.

“He's right, Cas,” Bobby throws in. “One drop got through, and it was Eve. And you want to break down the entire dam?”

It's not like that. They just need to understand. “To get the souls. I can stop Raphael. Please, you have to trust me.”

“Trust you?! How in the hell are we supposed to trust you now?” And that's rich, Castiel thinks, because Dean never doubted Sam until it was too late. Why can't they do that for him too? But he knows the answer to that.

“I'm still me. I'm still your friend. Sam...I'm the one who raised you from Perdition.”

“What? Well, no offence...But you did a pretty piss-poor job of it. Wait. Did you bring me back soulless -” Sam hesitates here before he continues. “On purpose?”

He can't believe Sam just said that. “How could you think that?” What would be gained from that? Dean has to know that he only did it to make Dean happy. He didn't know about it until later. He didn't do it on purpose. But you suspected that something was wrong, a voice inside him whispers.

“Well, I'm thinking a lot of things right now, Cas,” Sam answers.

“Listen. Raphael will kill us all. He'll turn the world into a graveyard. I had no choice.”

“No, you had a choice. You just made the wrong one,” Dean says and he sounds like his heart was being ripped out. And Castiel did it.

“You don't understand. It's complicated,” he tries. He has to try and fix this. He has to.

“No, actually, it's not, and you know that. Why else would you keep this whole thing a secret, huh, unless you knew that it was wrong? When crap like this comes around, we deal with it. Like we always have. What we don't do is: we don't go out and make another deal with the devil!” Dean says.

“It sounds so simple when you say it like that. Where were you when I needed to hear it?” Castiel asks. He wonders, sometimes, how things would have been if he had stayed, if he hadn’t said goodbye, if he had come to Dean instead of leaving with Crowley and waiting in line in hell. But it's pointless, this, even this conversation is pointless. He did what he had to do.

“I was there,” Dean says and softer: ”Where were you?”

He knows where he was. He was with Crowley, he turned his back on the people, on the one person who would understand, because he was there from the beginning, and went to hell.
“You should've come to us for help, Cas.” The nickname sounds strangely soft in his ears.

“Maybe,” he answers. Maybe, but - “It's too late now. I can't turn back now. I can't.”

“It's not too late. Damn it, Cas! We can fix this!” Dean says.

“Dean, it's not broken!” Castiel answers.
The truth is, it maybe isn't, but he, he is.

~5~
He wishes on some days that he would've never reached Dean first. Curses his fascination with Dean and everything that came after.
On some nights, he wishes Dean would just understand that he does what he needs to do and that he does it for them. This is not, this didn't started out as an ego trip. He had no choice.
He takes a few minutes to watch Dean sleep. He always liked that. It makes him feel peaceful to watch over Dean's dreams.

“Hello, Dean,” he says eventually and Dean sits up.

“How'd you get in here?”

“The angel-proofing Bobby put up on the house,” Castiel says. “He got a few things wrong.”

“Well, it's too bad we got to angel-proof in the first place, isn't it? Why are you here?” Dean wants to know. Castiel can hear the rawness in his voice, the anger, the regret. He wants these few days back when they were on the same side. The stolen moments and nights he was in the same room just watching Dean sleep. The feel of Dean's hands on him. The taste of-

“I want you to understand,” he says instead.

“Oh, believe me, I get it. Blah, blah, Raphael, right?” Dean answers angry.

“I'm doing this for you, Dean. I'm doing this because of you,” he says and wishes his voice sounded different, less raw and broken. He needs to be strong.

“Because of me,” Dean answers and maybe this was the wrong thing to say. Maybe this didn't come across like he wanted it to. He doesn't mean it as a bad thing. “Yeah. You got to be kidding me.”

“You're the one who taught me that freedom and free will -” he tries again.

Dean cuts him off, “You're a freakin' child, you know that? Just because you can do what you want doesn't mean that you get to do whatever you want!”

“I know what I'm doing, Dean,” he says and tries for calm. He never used to be like this before he met Dean. He used to be in control. He used to have faith.

“I'm not gonna logic you, okay? I'm saying don't...Just 'cause. I'm asking you not to. That's it,” Dean says.

“I don't understand,” because he doesn't. Like 'Do they not have the same purpose? Don't they want to stop the apocalypse? Don't they have a special bond and Castiel gets that Dean has Lisa now and it's a good thing, but-

“Look, next to Sam, you and Bobby are the closest things I have to family.” He stops and takes a breath. Castiel watches his chest. “That you are like a brother to me. So, if I'm asking you not to do something...You got to trust me, man.”
Like a brother, Castiel thinks, and something angry and dark rises up. Like a brother? They aren't brothers, they are so much more, they used to be so much more. He gave up his brothers for Dean, he gave up his faith for Dean, he gave up his God for Dean. And now Dean reduces him to family. Puts him on the same shelf he puts Sam and Bobby on. Maybe even Lisa and Ben. If you are a piece of a collection, you aren't unique anymore, no matter how small the collection is.

“Or what?”

There is a short moment of silence, but it rings too loud in Castiel's ears. “Or I'll have to do what I have to do to stop you.”

“You can't, Dean. You're just a man,” he answers. “I'm an angel.” It never used to be so heard to say these things. It's almost like he doesn't want to be an angel anymore, just for now just for this one moment in time.

“I don't know. I've taken some pretty big fish.”

And he did too. Castiel was there to see it. “I'm sorry, Dean.”

“Well, I'm sorry, too, then,” Dean answers and Castiel wants to hit him and fix this and a million other things. But it's not going to happen.

~Interlude~
Somewhere along the way they lost each other. And it's not only Dean's fault.

“I wish,” Castiel says leaning against the white hospital wall and maybe this is not the right time or the right place what with Ben and Lisa just a few rooms away, but he doesn't think he can, they can, steal more moments in time anymore.

“What?” Dean asks sharply, cutting him off. “That you thought this over before you made a pact with Crowley? Crowley for fuck's sake, Cas!”

There is something nasty in Dean's voice. Castiel cocks his head to have a better look. “You're angry with me.”

“Yes, yes I am angry with you and disappointed.”

“Because I did what I did, or because I did it with Crowley?” Castiel asks.

Dean balls his hands to fists at his sides and doesn't say anything for several minutes. “You made a deal with the King of Hell.”

Oh, Castiel thinks. Oh. “I didn't kiss him,” he says and the softer: “Dean.”
Dean's eyes snap to his and Castiel doesn't know what they want to tell him. He wants to say that he didn't because he doesn't have a soul, but somehow he knows that's not what Dean wants to hear now.

“I-” Dean cuts himself off. He sits down on the empty hospital bed and cradles his head in his hands. “You still made a deal.”

“I did. You weren't there. You were with Lisa and Ben and I-”

“I would have come!” Dean says, looking at him. “If you showed your face. I would have come with you.”

“And leave the only person you ever really loved? The family you always wanted?”

“Woman,” Dean says, softly.

“What?” Because he doesn't understand. It doesn't matter that Lisa is a woman. Not in the long run, not at all. Not to Castiel.

“Not person. Woman; she is the only woman I ever loved,” Dean says, looking him in the eyes. Castiel's fingers itch to touch Dean's skin, run his hand over his shoulder, there where he left a mark that can never be erased. His fingertips over ribs where he carved symbols into the bones.

“Dean,” he says. He doesn't know what else to say. He makes a few steps forward and waits and then Dean gets up and meets him halfway. They're still not touching.

“I lost her and Ben.”

“You let her go,” Castiel answers. It is different.

“I let you go too and see where that got us?!” Dean says.

“It wasn't your decision to make,” Castiel replies. It was his own. There were things to do in Heaven.

“It was my decision to make. As much as yours. I didn't say a word to stop you on that day in the Impala, but I'm telling you now to stop.”

“Dean.”

“I'm telling you now to stay here. To stay with me. To-” He grabs Castiel's arm hard and something uncurls at the touch inside Castiel. He takes a breath. He missed this. He missed Dean.

“I watched you, with Lisa and Ben. And you were happy. And who was I to come and crash everything? You know it would have burned everything to the ground. It did burn everything down to the ground.” He reaches out and places his hand where he knows the imprint is under the shirt. Squeezes a bit. Dean's breath hitches. There are words he could say here. There are words he maybe should say here, but they never did and Castiel doesn't think this is the right time or place. He doesn't think there will ever be the right time or place to tell Dean what he already knows.

“No,” Dean says, “it isn't us that are doing this.” Castiel can feel his breath on his lips, they're so close. He can taste the desperation on the air every time Dean exhales. “It's you who's burning everything down to the ground.”
His hand digs into Dean's shoulder too hard, he registers it just in the moment Dean makes a soft noise and steps back.

“You don't understand-”

Dean cuts him off, his fingers are like a vice around Castiel's arm. “You don't understand. You are about to lose everything, Cas.”

“I've already lost everything,” Castiel answers, stepping back. “But I'm going to get it back,” he adds and disappears.

“Cas! CAS!”
He can hear Dean and he will always hear Dean, but they aren't on the same side anymore.

~6~
War is never pretty and you have to do what you have to do. The Winchesters and Bobby, of all people, should understand that.

“I'm sorry this had to happen,” he says with a look at the body. “Crowley got carried away.”
Bobby stands up and Dean and Sam have to hold him back, not that Bobby could do any harm to Castiel's body.

“Yeah, I bet it was all Crowley you son of a bitch!”

“You don't even see it, do you? How totally off the rails you are,” Dean shouts.

“Enough! I don't care what you think. I've tried to make you understand. You won't listen. So let me make this simple. Please, go home and let me stop Raphael. I won't ask again.” He answers. It has to end and it will end and he will be the one who makes it all stop.

“Well, good, 'cause I think you already know the answer,” Dean says.

“I wish it hadn't come to this.” He shakes his head in regret, it's the truth too. He always wanted Dean on his side when he wins this war. “Well rest assured, when this is all over, I will save Sam, but only if you stand down.” He has to do what he has to do. He doesn't have to like it. In fact he doesn't like it.

“Save Sam from what?” Dean asks.

From himself, Castiel thinks, disappearing and reappearing behind Sam. It's not hard to locate the wall inside Sam's mind and it's even easier to break it down.
He doesn't feel any satisfaction in doing this. In hurting Sam. It's just something that has to be done. He's going to fix this later. After he won the war and destroyed Raphael.

~+~
Castiel isn't exactly counting the minutes in Crowley's lab. He doesn't know where else to go. The better place he once had. That better place, it's gone and he doesn't think he'll get it back.

“Your Purgatory power-shake, Monsieur,” Crowley says, handing him the jar with the blood. “Half monster, half virgin.”

“Thank you.”

“You seem even more constipated than usual. Maybe get yourself some Colonblow?”

Castiel looks at him, holding the jar a bit tighter. “I'm renegotiating our terms.”

“Is that so? What terms do you propose?”

“You get nothing. Not one single soul.” He is still an Angel of the Lord, it doesn't matter that the Lord doesn't seem to care about them. He isn't going to hand over thousands, millions of souls to the King of Hell.

“Can't help notice, seems a bit unfairly weighted. Castiel. You wouldn't dare. I brought you this deal.”

“You think I'm handing all that power to the King of Hell? I'm neither stupid nor wicked,” he answers and is sure Dean would have another opinion on that last one.

“Unbelievable. Have you forgotten that you're the bottom in this relationship?” Crowley asks.

Castiel stands up. “Here are your options: You either flee, or you die.”

“We made a pact. Even I don't break contracts like this.”

Castiel isn't going to back down on this. He has nothing left to lose here anymore. “Flee, or die,” he repeats.

“Boy, just can't trust anyone these days,” Crowley scoffs and disappears.

Castiel feels like he can breathe again. After months and months of lying and spying and sweeping evidence under metaphorical carpets. He's finally - alone.
There is one other thing he has to deal with.

~+~
“You rang, Cas?” Balthazar asks, appearing.

“Yeah. We have a problem. Dean Winchester is on his way here,” Castiel says and he knows, he knows, but it's still hard.

“Really? Oh. How'd he even know where we were?”

He puts the jar with the blood down and looks at his friend. But, then, he lost them all already. “Apparently we have a Judas in our midst.”

“Ah. Holy hell. Who is it? I bet it's that bloody little Cherub, isn't it?” Balthazar plays along.

He stands up. “I don't know. But I - I need you to find out.”

“Of course. Um, right away. Right away. Uh, but what do you want me to do about Dean?”

Castiel can't look at Balthazar when he's doing this. He turns away. There's blood on the walls of the lab. There is blood everywhere, he thinks. “Nothing. I'll handle him myself.”

“Castiel?”, Balthazar asks, concern in his voice. “Are you alright?”

He takes a shallow breath. “First Sam and Dean, and now this. I'm doing my best in impossible circumstances. My friends, they abandon me, plot against me. It's difficult to understand,” he answers. It is difficult to understand. He doesn't want the world to end like people know it. Like Dean knows it. He wants to save and preserve. Why can't they see that sometimes all you have to do is stand back and let other people handle it?

“Well you've,“ he stops for a second, “you've always got little old me.”

And Castiel wishes so much that that would be true, but it isn't and he can't jeopardize the war for Balthazar.
“Yes, I'll always have you,” he says softly as he stabs one of his oldest friends.
The light is blinding and Castiel is maybe for the first time ever glad for the fact that dead angels don't leave a body behind.

~+~
Castiel isn't stupid. He knows that he can't trust Crowley. It seems he can't trust anyone anymore.
So while Crowley is busy stabbing him in the back, he plays by his own rules.
The ritual isn't very complicated and he's done everything for this. He lost everything for this too.
There is a feeling of warmth that is clawing its way into his body and then it fills him up to the brim. He is a vessel, and one more drop and he's going to explode. But he makes it, and he knew he could. Of all the angels he was the one, the chosen one. The one God brought back from not non-existence. It had to mean something. He's sure there's a purpose to his existence.
The only thing left to do is tying up the ends.

~7~
He has to deal with Raphael first, of course, and then Crowley.
And then Sam, Bobby.
Dean.

“You can't imagine what it's like. They're all inside me. Millions upon millions of souls,” he says just to give them some kind of idea who he is now. How much power he has now.

“Sounds sexy,” Crowley jokes. He looks a bit shaken, Castiel thinks. He remembers faintly how that felt. “Exit stage, Crowley.”
Raphael looks like someone killed millions of innocent people just to show him how much he'll suffer next. It is pretty accurate, Castiel thinks.

“Now, what's the matter, Raphael? Somebody clip your wings?”

“Castiel, please. You let the demon go, but not your own brother?” Raphael asks, which is rich, coming from someone who beat the crap out of him in front of his peers.

“The demon I have plans for. You on the other hand...” he begins and then just snaps his fingers. The power is a thought. What he can imagine, he can do. He wishes Raphael's death and it shall be. “So, you see, I saved you,” he says to Dean and Bobby.

“Sure thing, Cas. Thank you.”

“You doubted me, fought against me, but I was right all along,” he goes on.

“Okay, Cas, you were. We're sorry. Now let's just defuse you, okay?” Dean says.

“What do you mean?” Maybe he just didn't get the phrasing again. Dean can't mean what Castiel thinks he means.

“You're full of nuke. It's not safe. So, before the eclipse ends, let's get the souls back to where they belong.”

“Oh no, they belong with me.” Castiel can feel every single one of them and they are beautiful, even the dark ones, those that are creeping around in the shadows of his veins, of the blood vessels of his heart.

“No, Cas, it's it, it's scrambling your brain.”

“No, I'm not finished yet. Raphael had many followers, and I must,” he doesn't think he should say kill here, “punish them all severely,” he finishes.

“Listen to me. Listen, I know there's a lot of bad water under the bridge, but we were family once. I'd have died for you. I almost did a few times. So if that means anything to you - Please. I've lost Lisa, I've lost Ben, and now I've lost Sam. Don't make me lose you too. You don't need this kind of juice anymore, Cas. Get rid of it before it kills us all.”

“You're just saying that because I won. Because you're afraid,” he says. He can feel Sam behind him, but it doesn't matter. “You're not my family, Dean. I have no family.”
And Sam just proves it when he stabs Castiel in the back with the angel sword. Castiel pulls the sword out slowly. There's no blood on it. He puts it down on the table and looks at them. Time to get this show going, he thinks, to borrow a phrase from Dean.
“I'm glad you made it, Sam. But the angel blade won't work, because I'm not an angel anymore. I'm your new God. A better one. So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord. Or I shall destroy you.”
There is so much stunned silence it's like the beginning of the world. And maybe it has to be like this, Castiel thinks.
God waited, he can wait too.

“Well, alright then. Is this good, or you want the whole 'forehead to the carpet' thing?” Bobby asks as he kneels down on the filthy floor of the lab. “Guys?” he says in Dean's direction and Dean and Sam start to move.

“Stop,” Castiel orders. He can feel the confusion and resentment. “What's the point if you don't mean it? You fear me. Not love, not respect, just fear.”

“Cas-” Sam starts, but he cuts Sam off.

“Sam, you have nothing to say to me; you stabbed me in the back.” In every sense of the word, too. “Get up,” he says to Dean and Bobby.

“Cas, come on, this isn't you,” Dean tries.

“The Castiel you knew is gone,” Castiel answers. He still has all the memories, but it's like he can't relate to them anymore. Like he can't feel how it was, how it felt to hear Dean's breath hitch when he put his fingers on that imprint of his hand on Dean's skin. It means nothing anymore.

“So what, then? Kill us?” Dean asks.

“What a brave little ant you are. You know you're powerless, you wouldn't dare move against me again. That would be pointless. So I have no need to kill you. Not now. Besides,“ he says, and looks at Dean as she says it, “once you were my favorite pets before you turned and bit me.”

“Who are you?”

“I'm God. And if you stay in your place, you may live in my kingdom. If you rise up, I will strike you down. Not doing so well, are you Sam?” he says.

“I'm fine...I'm...fine,” Sam replies, but he looks like death warmed over on a bad day. Castiel can't blame him, the wall is still crumbling as they speak.

“You said you would fix him - you promised!”

“IF you stood down, which you hardly did. Be thankful for my mercy,” he answers Dean and looking back to Sam: “I could have cast you back into the pit.”

“Cas, come on, this is nuts! You can turn this around, please!”

“I hope for your sake this is the last you see me,” he answers. He has enough of this. He has to fix Heaven now and then he can start fixing the mess God, the previous God, left on Earth.

~+~
The sun is shining, the grass is green and he is here to help them. To fix things, to make everything like it should be. But those that stood against him, those can't possibly think he can be merciful now. He has to make an example here.

“Understand. If you followed Raphael, if you stood against me, punishment is certain; there is nowhere to hide. The rest of you, our Father left a long time ago, and that was hard. I thought the answer was free will. But I understand now. You need a firm hand. You need a father. And I am your father now. Be obedient, children. Or this will be your fate.”

He isn't happy about all the senseless dead. If they have listened, if they just have had faith, it wouldn't have had to come to this.
“It is a new day. On Earth, and in Heaven. Rejoice.”

next/end