Fic: For Me This is Heaven (Dean/Castiel)

[thunder_nari]

**

As far as Dean is aware, no one knows more about angels than Bobby Singer. The only time Dean gets a chance to see Bobby is during training, as the man is a little reclusive the rest of the day and busy when he's not holed away on his own. When Bobby's leg demanded he no longer fight them, he turned to research instead, digging up every scrap of information there was but Bobby's information is biased. Bobby's information is the best way to kill them, the best way to defend against them. But there are other things, bits of knowledge that might prove handy against them one day and he's been around longer than the others, he might have heard something younger hunters haven't.

“But no one has ever tried talking to them?” Dean calls out to Bobby, who shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

Behind Dean, Jo yells out his name and Dean only just manages to dive to the ground and avoid the cut of a wing against the back of his head as it lances through the air. “Pay attention!”

Dean shoots her a glare before rolling to his feet and ducking behind one of the walls that make up the maze the training ring currently consists of. Each of them carries a bola, a ball and rope, to try and bring the angel down. Not as effective as the cannons. They need to be thrown hard and fast and the angel will always be able to duck if it sees you coming. Trying to outmaneuver it through the maze is the only way to get behind it and take it down.

“You didn't answer the question!” Dean shouts back to Bobby, jogging down one of the maze paths and wondering where the others are. He's lost track of them, focused more on Bobby than on working together.

“You idjit! Angels can't talk. They ain't humans, just animals.”

“But has anyone tried?” Dean insists.

“Angels are for killing, not sitting down and having tea with. Now pay attention!”

Dean turns a corner and the angel is on the other side, causing Dean to skid to a stop and stare at the angry flare of wings that spread up from the angel's shoulders. These wings aren't clipped and the gray feathers are practically spiked outwards in their agitation as the angel rushes at him. It's stopped short by Jo's bola wrapping around its legs and dropping it to the ground. A moment later and the angel is tangled in nets that drag it back to its cage.

Jo catches Dean before he can slip away this time, ducking in front of him to cut off his path of retreat. “What are you doing, Dean? You're falling apart in the ring.” She sounds equal parts confrontational and worried.

“Can't stay and chat, Jo, I gotta find my brother,” he lies and darts around her, jogging off towards his house. He can feel her eyes on him as he leaves.

Impala takes him back to the canyon, where he turns her loose in anticipation of spending the remainder of the day here. Like last time, his heart thuds at the prospect of seeing the angel or at the prospect of the angel being gone. Dean still isn't sure the other angel's won't come for it or that it won't try to drag itself away and then it could be miles off.

For a moment, Dean walks into the canyon, heavy bag slung over his shoulder, and is sure that's what happened, the angel managed to find some way out and he shouldn't be disappointed by that. But Dean turns and there's the angel, breathing down his neck, and Dean swears the angel takes amusement in that. His eyes crinkle at the corners as Dean startles and Dean shakes his head and grins in return. Dean thinks the grimace the angel makes is his attempt at a similar smile.

Dean wanders down to the stream and lets the angel follow him, sitting on the edge and from the bag, he pulls another bar of chocolate. The angel brightens a little in response and takes it from Dean's hand, only a little wary as he does.

“You'd better appreciate it,” Dean says. “That stuff isn't cheap.”

The angel takes the candy a little ways away and sits by the stream. Dean sighs a little and the next few minutes are spent trying to be sneaky about getting closer. The angel keeps casting him looks so it's obvious that he knows what Dean's doing. But the angel doesn't move, not until Dean is reaching out to touch the angel's good wing and then the angel turns to face him, wing sweeping around behind his back and out of Dean's reach. But he doesn't get to his feet and doesn't attack, just remains sitting and watches Dean.

“I can help if you let me,” Dean offers.

The angel seems to turn this over, sucking the last of the chocolate from his fingers and once the long moment has passed, he stretches his good wing around within Dean's reach. Dean stretches his fingers out to the wing, the angel watching him the entire time, gaze intense. The angel tenses further when Dean lays his palm against the feathers, a slight shifting but the angel doesn't move and Dean lets his fingers card along the feathers, marveling at the softness of them. The angel sighs.

“Not so bad, right?”

The angel looks at him and Dean hopes he's agreeing. When he gets to his feet, the angel tenses again, immediately alert and Dean tries to move as nonthreatening as possible as he walks around behind him. Still the angel allows him, though Dean can see the brief search over his person to make sure there are no blades hidden. The injured wing looks worse close up. With patches of feathers missing and Dean can tell the failed attempt the angel must have made at resetting the bone. There's still blood dried in to the feathers at the back of the wing, where the angel can't groom. Even the other wing's feathers are looking ragged. They must groom each others wings because there's no way an angel could reach here and that realization shifts another aspect of angels in Dean's mind. They do care about each other.

“I can fix this. It's gonna hurt for a minute though.”

The angel is looking back over his shoulder at Dean before he stretches out his bad wing and Dean places his hands along the bone, either side of the break. The angel nods and Dean readies himself for a scream when he sets the bone back into place but the angel doesn't make a noise. There's only the sickening crack of the wing and the angel breathes hard.

From his bag, Dean grabs bandages and from the sticks on the ground he splints and binds the wing as well as he can. The angel sits still for it, listening with a cocked head to Dean's explanations of what he's doing. The wing is bound down against the angel's back, making the angel look and move awkwardly when Dean is done. At least the angel can move more freely now and Dean wonders if he will walk away. Back to wherever the angels live.

“It's for the best. Don't try to move it.” The angel immediately stills his wing and looks at Dean with slightly large eyes. After a moment's consideration, he stretches out his good wing towards Dean in an unmistakable gesture. Dean rolls his eyes but he sets back to work, cleaning and straightening the feathers that the angel hasn't been able to reach.

It takes Dean a short while to notice, caught up in running his fingers through an angel's feathers, that the angel is purring beneath his touch. The steady rumble cuts off when Dean laughs. “So you're part bird, part cat?”

The angel pulls away abruptly, annoyance narrowing his eyes but there's a light blush creeping across his cheeks as well.

“You got some objection to that?” Dean challenges. He just knows this angel can talk because he sure understands Dean well enough. But the angel snorts a breath and shakes his head. “Come on, angel, I know you can talk. Start small. You must have a name?”

The angel looks up, to the tree lines above them, the birds that circle, the sparse covering of clouds. As if speaking might bring something down on him but he seems to make a decision and Dean finds himself on edge to hear a simple answer of the angel's name. “Castiel,” the angel eventually says on a rough whisper of a voice that Dean hadn't been expecting. Not with the high-pitched scream these things can give off.

“Castiel,” Dean repeats and the angel - Castiel - nods. “That's great. I'm Dean.” And it feels stupid to introduce himself now but since this entire thing is a lesson in stupidity, Dean holds out his hand. Castiel stares at it for a long moment before grasping it in his own and Dean grins. Castiel's smile looks more natural on him this time.

“I'm not supposed to talk to you,” Castiel says and then he looks up again.

Dean shrugs. “Yeah well, I'm not supposed to talk to you either.”

Their eyes meet and Castiel still has a tight grip on Dean's hand but Dean can't name what it is that passes between them. When Castiel finally pulls back and turns away, his shoulders tight, Dean follows him a step.

“Can I ask you some questions?”

“You can. That doesn't mean I'm at liberty to answer,” Castiel says and Dean tries to wrestle down his irritation. His want to demand why Castiel can't answer or why an angel isn't allowed to speak with him. Can't angels do whatever they want? Dean can't imagine someone or thing easily controlling the creature in front of him, with his fierce gaze and powerful voice.

“Why can't you talk to me?”

“It's not allowed,” is the angel's non-answer.

“Okay...” Dean tries again, a more pressing question. “Why do you attack the cities?”

Castiel turns back to Dean, a wall behind the clear blue of his eyes but the emotions his face hides, his free wing gives away. Shifting uncomfortably. Nervously.

“Come on, man. Don't you think you owe me a few answers?”

This time, irritation flashes in Castiel's eyes plainly and he turns away, towards the fallen tree on the stream bank where he stands and picks a thumbnail against the bark. “No.”

“Angels killed my mom.” Dean can't hold back from being accusing but right here is a chance to learn why and Castiel is holding out on him. Dean could have - should have - killed the angel when he had the chance. He wants Castiel to give him a good reason why he hasn't, there has to be a good reason.

The angel stands, shoulders stiff and even his free wing is tucked tightly down against his back. “Then you probably should have killed me.”

“Yeah, I probably should have.”

Castiel faces him again. “But you didn't.”

“No.”

Castiel looks upwards again with the same expression as last time, waiting for the punishment his words will surely bring down on him. “Our hands are forced,” Castiel says quickly, quietly so that Dean has to step nearer to him.

“By who?”

“I can't say.”

“Well maybe we ca-”

“Dean.”

Dean throws his hands up in defeat. “Okay, fine. Fuck.” They stand awkwardly, both of them looking somewhere else until Castiel shifts his wing towards Dean, eyes wide in apology and together they sit on the old tree and Dean combs out his feathers again.

He works his way down to the base, where the joint of the wing meets Castiel's back and Dean can see the smooth blend of feathers into skin through the complicated looking catches of Castiel's white cloth that allows his wings through. He's busy wondering how Castiel gets that on and off by himself when his fingers rub down against a bump at the underside of Castiel's wing, hidden beneath the thick down feathers Dean is brushing through and the angel makes a noise before he's collapsing like all his strings are cut. Just like that and all the life goes out of him.

“Castiel!” Panic swarms through Dean for a moment while he catches hold of the angel before he can slide off the log and that's when Dean realizes that Castiel is purring again, rumbling out noise and looking blissed out of his mind. It's a moment after Dean takes his fingers away from Castiel's wing that the angel cracks an eye open and glares up at him.

“Do not do that again,” he bitches at Dean and hefts himself up again, flexing out his wing before settling it close against his back. Dean can see the other one twitch with the desire to move as well but Castiel keeps it still.

“I don't even know what I did.” But Dean's pretty sure he does now and just to test it, he presses his fingers along the base of Castiel's wing, finds that mass of nerves again. There's no reaction until he presses down harder and then there's an instant half-comatose angel practically in his lap. “That's gotta be the worst design flaw,” Dean jokes when Castiel picks himself up again, taking a couple careful steps back from Dean this time.

“It is only for the most trusted. Family, friends. Mates.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Nice to know where I stand.”

“...Did you bring more candy?” Castiel changes the subject and Dean hands over the sweets he'd again stolen from under Sam's bed.

**

The angel standing in front of Dean has fiery red hair and deep red-brown wings to go with it. The fire in her eyes could give Castiel a run for his money and she's got all of them on the defensive. She's too smart to be caught by tricks and too quick to be taken down by the bolas. Dean almost thinks she's toying with them and when she stops playing games and goes on a real attack, Dean knows they're going to be screwed.

Dean's more focused this time, watching the angel and trying to learn her moves the same way she's trying to do with them. He just needs an opening, a second to get close enough and then he can end all this without anyone getting hurt.

He gets it when James and Dimi tag team her, nearly grabbing hold of her wings which nearly throws her into a rage. Dean understands more than ever now why they don't want their wings touched and he ducks as one goes sailing over his head as she spins to face the other two. Dean darts in quickly, knows he's putting himself at risk when she turns again and her hand is suddenly around his throat and he chokes.

Focus, he tells himself, don't panic. And he reaches around her back while her other hand is reaching for his forehead and he can hear Jo calling his name and rushing to help. But his fingers reach the angel's wing first, find the cluster of nerves and he presses down hard.

The angel falls in a heap to the ground.

**

"Dean! How did you do that? Dean!" Jo is calling after him again but Dean brushes her off like he always does, leaving her to huff out a breath and cross her arms in irritation. He should feel guilty, but they've both lost family members to these creatures and if they carry on like this? They'll lose more and that's not a question of if. Dean didn't believe in another option before but suddenly it's there, standing in front of him.

The same way Sam is, who's offered him this way out so many times but Dean always refused.

Sam is waiting for him when Dean heads into the kitchen, nearly jumping out of his skin to find Sam in what has always been an empty house up until now. He and dad and Sammy are the only ones living here. Dean sees Sam in the stands, always taking notes, watching the angels more than he watches the hunters. Dean sees Sam at dinner but it's been days since he's seen his dad. Probably a good thing when John would only lecture Dean about his performance because Dean is better than this. If only dad knew how much he really isn't.

But this time, there's Sam, leaning back against the counter and blocking Dean's way into the cupboards for the bag of fresh made ginger snaps he bought earlier from the market. Since the influx of people, there's been an influx of sweets, rare and delicious. Dean is going to end up spending all his savings on the angel and he doesn't even mind.

Everything about Sam is confrontational and Dean tries to play him off with an easy grin. "Hey Sammy."

"What are you doing, Dean?"

"Getting a snack?" Dean tries hopefully but knows before Sam rolls his eyes that his brother isn't going to buy it. If there's anyone that knows him, it's Sam.

"I'm not blind. You've been sneaking out every day after the training. Which you've been entirely vacant for even when you're in the ring." So Sam watches more than just the angels and he switches from irritated to concerned just like that and Dean sighs.

"It's nothing. I'm just...getting in some extra practice." Which is only true in that he's been spending all of his afternoons hanging out with an angel.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm hungry," he says pointedly and gestures for Sam to move which Sam only does after a prolonged moment of staring. Dean can practically feel Sam trying to root around in his head for the answer that Dean obviously isn't giving. But Sam does step aside and Dean goes to the cupboard to find the wrapped cookies, shoving them into the inside of his jacket pocket. He takes the angel blade from his side and leaves it abandoned on the counter before turning to Sam. "I gotta run. I'll see you at dinner tonight, okay?" And he's out the door and down to the stables before Sam can respond.

The ride out to Lawrence Canyon always seems to take too long and though by now he knows that Castiel will still be there, there's still a part of Dean that worries. Castiel has spoken to him when he's allegedly not supposed to and if Castiel is worried about something swooping down from the sky to punish him, then Dean is as well. He pushes Impala a little harder than usual and promises her a good portion of warmed oats when they get back.

At the canyon, it takes him longer than usual to catch sight of Castiel and Dean feels his heart rise up in his throat. The pile of armor is where it's been since Castiel first discarded it and there are still a few stray feathers across the ground or trampled into the dirt but where's the angel?

"Castiel? Hey, I brought cookies, man, where are you?"

A shifting of movement from the corner of his eye and Dean finally spots the mass of wings. Castiel is in the shadows of the cliff side, his wings blanketing him and seeming to melt into the dark, the same way the angel did in the sky when Dean had shot him down. The angel is sleeping and seems disinclined to wake up. Dean sees a head of mussed dark hair peek from beneath a wing but the moment Castiel catches sight of him, he's tucking his head back down and settling again.

Dean moves over to him, crouching down by his side and tries not to feel too gratified that when he presses his hand against Castiel's wing, the angel extends it in open trust. He even lets Dean brush his fingers lightly along the base.

"Come on, lazy wings. I brought something."

Castiel perks up as Dean pulls the ginger snaps from his pocket, shifting his wing and sitting up until they're facing each other. Dean shares out the cookies between them. He's asked before if Castiel needed more, if Dean should bring him some deer, some vegetables, anything, and now along with the treats in his bag, he packs a small portion of bread or cheese or smoked and salted deer. Castiel always eats his dessert first though.

"So I was thinking since you obviously speak English pretty good, maybe you could teach me some of your language," Dean suggests and Castiel gives a pleased nod in response.

"Though you won’t be able to say many of the words on your tongue."

Dean snorts. "You have no idea what my tongue can do," Dean says before he thinks and then blushes crimson.

Castiel doesn't notice though. Dean looks at him and Castiel's attention is away, his entire being frozen as he stares intently at the entrance to the canyon across the way from them. "Someone's there," Castiel says and before Dean can react, the angel is on his feet and then Dean sees Sam.

"Wait, Cas!"

Dean clambers up, feeling suddenly clumsy next to Castiel's grace, his head spinning at the quick onset of panic. Sam found them and even with one wing bound Castiel is faster than Dean could hope to be. Sam doesn't see the angel appearing out of the shadows of the rocks until it's too late. Castiel has hold of him, hauling Sam around by the front of his shirt and his wings flare up behind him. Both of them, the broken wing rips straight through the bindings and Dean is shouting out again for him to stop.

"That's my brother!" That's Dean's little brother in the grasp of an angel and Sam looks terrified, trying to pull back and squirm away with wide eyes that Castiel must be able to see would never hurt anything. Dean's mind flashes back to his mother and then Castiel is releasing Sam from his hold and Sam falls backwards to the ground, pushing himself away as far as he can while Dean steps between them. "That's my brother," Dean repeats. He presses his hand against Castiel's chest and the angel takes a step back at Dean's push.

"Dean, what the hell is going on?" Sam demands from the ground, voice high in fright.

"Shit. What are you doing here?" Dean reaches down to help Sam to his feet, knowing full well that Castiel's gaze is drilling into his back, seeing without looking the frown that's marring his forehead.

"I followed you. I wanted to know what you were up to." Sam glances back to Castiel and then at Dean who's perfectly comfortable with turning his back on the angel that just attacked his brother. Dean looks at Castiel and steps back a little so he's no longer blocking the path between them. Sam looks like he wants to hide behind Dean's back at this.

"It's fine, man. He's not gonna hurt you." He takes in Castiel. "And you either. My brother's not a hunter, trust me."

Castiel studies them through narrowed eyes before he nods stiffly and walks away. He goes to the stream, by his armor, his broken wing folded awkwardly against his back. When Dean looks back at Sam, his brother is staring at him in open astonishment.

"He can understand you?"

Dean shrugs.

"Will you please tell me what's going on?"

Dean sighs and gives in, the way he always does when it's Sammy's big stupid eyes staring at him. "He's trapped here. You remember...remember the attack before the training started? I thought I saw an angel in the sky and I used one of the cannons to shoot it down and I shot down Cas." Sam mouths 'Cas?' at him in confusion, glancing again to the angel, who's sitting on the bank watching them. "I shot down Cas and I came out here looking, thinking I'd...I dunno, prove myself to dad by killing an angel before training even started. I just...I couldn't do it. I looked at him and I couldn't kill him."

"Dean-"

"I know it's stupid, okay? And yeah, I'm playing with fire but he's safe, I swear."

"I was actually just going to say I told you so about them. Can he speak English?" Sam asks and Dean thinks that Sam has no right to look that proud of him. Dean let the city down, he let their dad down and he's a little afraid that he let their mother down. Still, he looks at Castiel and feels maybe just a little proud as well.

"Ask him yourself."

Sam doesn't look so sure about this, nerves clouding over his expression and he glances back and forth between Dean and the angel before Dean gives a snort and heads over to Castiel who's still glaring at Sam. Dean nudges his boot against Castiel's ankle. "Will you stop with the death glare? I'm trying to show Sam how you don't bite."

Castiel doesn't look sure about that at all but Dean waves Sam over anyway. Dean hopes that sitting down will dispel some of the tension, Sam following suit and then the three of them are sitting in the awkward air instead of standing in it. Sam absently picks at a loose thread at the hem of his shirt sleeve and Castiel stretches out his good wing so the feathers brush along Dean's back. The move startles Sam a little.

"I guess I do have a lot of questions," Sam says hesitantly.

"As I've told Dean, I can't answer most of them."

Sam startles again when Castiel speaks and Dean wants to smack him to just settle down. "How come you know English?"

"Because we've been here for a long time. We watch and we learn."

"And you hunt us."

"As you hunt us."

Dean thinks again to the forest, the thrill of chasing Castiel through the trees and he would have killed the angel that day. Unprovoked if he'd had the weapons to do so. Unthinking, he reaches out his hand to smooth against the ruffled feathers of Castiel's wing. He never can seem to stay hands off the wings for long but he brushes it off as having always been tactile and ignores the look that Sam is giving them while Castiel leans into his touch.

"Castiel was gonna teach me some angel language," Dean brings up and just like he'd hoped, Sam immediately perks up at the words. At the prospect of knowledge.

Together, they spend the rest of the day watching Castiel draw strange letters and symbols into the dirt with a stick. It strikes Dean after awhile that there is power here, like there's power in the symbols carved into the angel blades. And again the trust that Castiel has shown him threatens to take some of his breath.

Before they leave, Dean rebinds Castiel's wing, standing close to the angel while Sam waits for them by Castiel's armor, tracing fingers over the patterns and trying to decipher their meaning. Castiel's good wing stretches out and shields them from view.

"Thanks," Dean says. "For not maiming Sam."

Castiel waits a moment before lifting his hand and pressing two fingers against Dean's forehead. Dean closes his eyes to the touch but it's not fear he feels twisting his gut. "I trust you. It is not so hard to extend the same courtesy to him." His fingers slip down the side of Dean's face and when they step back, the sun is beginning to set behind the tree line.

**

The next day at training, Jo puts the angel with the clipped wings down so hard that the sound of its wing cracking beneath the stress is heard clear across the stadium. And the crowd cheers her, while the angel moans pathetically in the dirt. Training ends early then and the angel is taken away, not to its cage, and Dean knows they'll kill it. The others swarm Jo to congratulate her and Dean can only hang back and watch until he has to leave the ring, ducking past Bobby and his watchful gaze.

He goes to the canyon in a fury. At the people of the city, himself, the angels. Whatever it is that's pulling all the strings and whatever is putting Dean in this situation he has no idea how to get out of. He wishes again that he could have just killed Castiel; it would have been easier for all of them. When he confesses this, Castiel agrees with him but it's too late. They're in too deep and they spend the afternoon leaning back against each other in the shade of the canyon wall, drawing shapes in the dirt while Castiel teaches him more.

In the training ring, Dean does everything he can to prevent another of the remaining three angels from getting hurt, putting them down before the others can. Sometimes from within its cage they can all hear the archangel raise its wings and beat furiously at the door. They can hear its screams suppressed through the power of the symbols. Dean's never heard so much anger and despair from a single creature and he wants to open the doors and let it go. Sometimes Dean thinks it's no wonder the angels hunt them.

“What are you going to do when your wing is healed?” Dean asks Castiel when he's grooming water through Castiel's wing, who sits at the edge of the stream with his sandaled feet in the water. Dean sits behind him to work at his wings, legs outstretched to either side of Castiel's. He can see that the wing is healing, faster than Dean had thought it would and he wonders if Castiel will be an enemy again when it does.

“Return home, I suppose.”

“Then what?” Dean snorts in anger and Castiel tilts his head a little to look back from the corner of his eye. “Go back to trying to kill each other? I can't do that.” It hurts that Castiel might be able to.

“No. But there are others of my kind whose minds might be changed.”

“Wanna run away?” Dean asks, only half-joking and half-hoping, but when it becomes clear that Castiel isn't going to answer him, Dean tips forward to press his forehead against the back of Castiel's neck. His hands leave Castiel's wings to slide around his chest and pull Castiel back against him and Castiel shivers when Dean's mouth ghosts against the back of his neck.

If Castiel isn't going to run away from this then Dean's going to push a bit, heart hammering against Castiel's back as he mouths up the side of the angel's neck and nudges at Castiel's cheek with his nose until Castiel turns his head more. Until Dean can kiss the corner of his mouth and then Castiel is giving in and craning his head back, arching his neck uncomfortably so their mouths can meet properly and Dean feels his stomach bottom out.

This is the mother of all bad ideas and Dean has had a lot of them lately. Every single thing he's done involving Castiel has been a bad idea. So he's not going to stop with this one, not when Castiel stretches his arm up to cup the back of Dean's head and Dean runs his hands over Castiel's chest and down over his stomach. The cloth Castiel wears is cinched here with a leather belt and Dean traces beneath it, rubbing against Castiel's belly and hips over the thick cotton. It's enough to make the angel moan and press back against him.

It's almost too easy to do this, to slide the knee length gown up Castiel's legs and to reach between them to find Castiel's dick with his fingers, pressing past the strip of cotton that covers him there.

“Dean,” Castiel gasps and arches, breaking the seal of their mouths to tip his head back against Dean's shoulder. Dean just switches his attention to the angel's throat and Castiel lets him, arches his neck to expose this sensitive powerful part of him. Dean is hard, pressing against the small of Castiel's back, and this new show of trust is nearly enough to send him undone.

Castiel goes first though, with Dean's hand wrapped around and stroking him in hard long motions. His wings vibrate and Dean is lost in this sea of feathers and Castiel, until the angel is keening in his arms and the sheer awe of it is enough to send Dean over as well.

Dean will fight. For this, he'll fight.

**

It's nearing the final day of training and Dean can't remember most of the lessons. He can hardly remember being in the ring, putting down angel after angel. Finally getting his head in the game according to Bobby but Dean just wants it all to be over with. The last month is a sea of wings but it's all Castiel when it should be about the training.

They had taken the splint from his wing the day before and Castiel had flexed his wings and said it would never be as good as it was. But he can fly and he has Dean to thank for that. He has Dean to thank for shooting him down in the first place, Dean thinks. He watches as Castiel attempts a short flight, a few hundred yards, but the wing is weak with disuse and Dean fights back relief that Castiel won’t be flying away just yet.

In the training ring, all sense of relief and thoughts of Castiel waiting for him are wiped away when all twenty-five of the new hunters are called into the ring. There are no lessons today, only the announcement of who has earned the honor of killing the archangel tomorrow. The stadium is more packed than Dean has seen it yet; people from the other cities all present, waiting in anticipation to see if their city will be the one with the honor of producing the year’s top hunter.

Dean's been paying so little attention to any of the proceedings that he doesn't recognize any of the faces outside his own group and even then, he'd be hard pressed to say anything about them. He has no idea who's shown the best performance and it's with a rush of dread that he realizes Bobby is looking at him and Dean forces himself to focus.

“Dean,” Bobby barks at him.

“What?”

Bobby looks like he's going to smack Dean any moment. “Get up here, boy.” Dean does and his legs are shaking as Bobby grabs hold of his wrist and lifts their arms high. “Champion of the cities,” Bobby announces and Dean has to fight not be sick all over their boots.

“Me?”

Bobby nods. “You.”

And Dean's dad is up there, cheering for him, proud for him, along with the rest of the stadium.

“No no. It can't be-”

“Shut up and take the applause.”

He can't do this. He can't kill an angel. The noise is a weak din in the background and he can feel a few of the other new hunters come up to shake his hand or slap his back. To invite him for drinks, to stop being so damn reclusive. As he's stumbling from the ring, the archangel screams its torment like it knows. Like it heard and it’s calling Dean out, challenging him. Dean looks back to see the door of its cage rattling.

“That one's going to be a good fighter.” Dean looks around to see his dad standing before him, smiling and straight-backed. Dean tries to remember the last time they shared more than quick words before one of them took off. Things to do. More important things than each other and Dean wishes he could run away from John now but his shoulder is caught in a firm grip. “I knew you could do it.”

“Yeah. I kind of think... maybe Jo...”

John laughs. “Come on, Dean. I know we haven't had much time for each other lately but we'll celebrate this. Fetch your brother.”

Dean nods and takes the opportunity to escape. He doesn't go to find Sam in the dispersing crowd though; he runs for the stables and races Impala to the canyon.

“Cas!” he's calling out as soon as he's in the canyon, jumping a little when Castiel drops down from the sky above him. He looks pleased with himself, sweating a little from the forgotten excursion of flying, and Dean spends just a second to be pleased that even free to leave, Castiel came back.

Castiel's pleased smile falls away when he takes in Dean. “What happened?”

“They picked me!” Dean throws his hands out to the side and once he would have been so happy. Now it's just icy fear about what will happen if they push him into the ring with an angel that he can't - won't - kill. “Of all the people they could have... They're going to shove me in that ring tomorrow and I'm going to have to kill the archangel. We have to get out of here.”

“Someone's there,” Castiel says before the last words can even tumble out of Dean's mouth and he's gone in a gust of wind and flurry of feathers.

“Was that an angel?”

Dean turns to the surprised voice and there's Jo, jumping out from behind a large tree, eyes tracking the path that Castiel just took into the sky. Dean can feel everything falling apart at once as Jo pulls her angel blade and holds it tight in her hand.

“Put the blade down, Jo. Why does everyone have to follow me out here?”

“Because you're being secretive and weird and I'm pretty sure no one has ever looked as miserable as you to be picked as the one to kill the angel.”

Dean sighs, glancing down to the ground before squaring his shoulders and when he looks up, he calls out in the direction Castiel went. He knows the angel won't have gone far, that Castiel is likely watching them from the edge of the canyon and sure enough, at Dean's call, Castiel appears on the ledge and jumps off. Dean holds his breath as Castiel's wings catch an up draft and he glides in, graceful and deadly and gorgeous. But his wing will never be perfect and he stumbles a little on the landing. Dean thinks Jo doesn't notice and Castiel carries himself straight backed and proud. Just because Castiel is injured doesn't mean he will ever be easy in a fight.

Jo sees that because she takes a step backwards as he approaches them and raises her blade into the air.

"Jo," Dean starts. "Meet Castiel. Cas, this is Jo, training friend."

Castiel looks between them, quickly calculating the situation before dismissing Jo and her defensive stance to focus on Dean. "I think I'll have to teach you about stealth."

Jo's gasp when Castiel speaks is nearly comical and when Castiel doesn't appear a second away from attacking them, she relaxes her stance slightly but keeps her grip on the blade. Jo's no fool and she won't be taken by surprise. "You can talk."

"Of course I can."

"...You're gonna have to tell me this story, Dean."

Dean does and he supposes if any of the hunters were going to follow him, he's glad it was her. She thinks about things before she reacts, asks questions before she shoots even though her past gives her no reason to. If Dean had known that about her before all of this, he would have written her off. Now he thinks it makes her a better hunter than any of the others. She still looks skeptical as Dean talks and Castiel stands there like an intimidating shadow.

"So what are you going to do now?" Jo asks when Dean is done and Dean sighs.

"Run away?"

"That doesn't seem like you." She glances to Castiel. "Granted none of this does."

"I don't know what else to do. If I go into that ring tomorrow and can't do it, everyone is going to know. Somehow I don't see that turning into anything good." His dad will know and Dean would rather run away than face his father.

"Dean. You were the best hunter in that ring and you subdued every angel without even hurting them. You already impressed everyone. If you hadn't, I wouldn't be standing here talking about this right now and your angel there would already be on the ground." She glances at Castiel with a slight grimace. "No offense." Castiel doesn't say anything but he gives a twitch of his wing as if to wave the concern off. "Everyone will be at the ring tomorrow, your dad included. I say it's time to show them what you can do."

Dean closes his eyes, breathing out slowly at the brush of feathers along his back when Castiel stretches out his wing. "Maybe..." But changing an entire society's way of thinking? It's going to take a lot more than a little trickery with an archangel. And Dean doesn't think for a second that the archangel will make it easy on him. He trades a long look with Castiel, whose lips part on sympathy and sorrow. Jo is still watching them, seeing with her smart eyes what's between them and she sighs.

"But right now, you better come back. Your dad is going to tear apart the whole city looking for you. Running won't stop someone else from killing those angels. Or the angels from killing us. I just want it all to stop too, Dean."

Great, the chick is logical and dangerous. Dean looks to Castiel to see what he thinks and the angel is staring at Jo in surprised approval. Dean would kind of still rather run away but he's outgunned and he's not going to go anywhere if Castiel isn't going to come with him.

"Fine. Just...give me a bit, I'll come back soon. Tell my dad...something."

They watch her leave and Castiel looks to Dean once she's gone, tone belying his surprise. "You know some very impressive people, Dean. I hadn't ever thought a hunter would be so adept to change. I'm not...entirely sure we can expect the same from the angels," he admits, somewhat ashamed.

"Yeah, well, don't go expecting the rest of the hunters to be like this either. C'mere," Dean says, lifting his hand and Castiel steps willingly into his embrace. Moves willingly to Dean's mouth and Castiel circles his wings around them. "This could get dangerous. The archangel in that cage is pissed and I don't blame him."

Castiel presses a kiss near his ear and says lowly, "Call my name when you have need of me. I'll come."

**

The archangel is screaming again. Screaming and throwing its wings against the doors with all the force it has. Even the symbols are beginning to show weakness under the onslaught and the doors creak on their hinges. The archangel knows what's about to happen, it knows death lies around the corner and it's not going to take it lightly.

Dean's sure he's never been quite this terrified. Where his knees feel weak and his heart races so fast the rush of blood in his ears blocks out the noise of the crowd. The archangel doesn't scare him as much as what he's trying to do, how he's sure it will fail but he's going to do it anyway. He tries to think about Castiel, tries to center himself and find his calm the way the angel had attempted to teach him. With Castiel's chest rising in deep breaths against his back, Castiel's wings surrounding them in peaceful dark. Sam had told him to think about the angels naked. A smirk falls into place and Dean is as ready as he's ever going to be.

He has a bola gripped in one hand, his blade in another. His dad is sitting right above the main gate of the archangel and when Dean gives a stiff nod of his head to signal he's ready, it's his dad that pulls the rope to work the cogs and open the heavy doors.

The archangel bursts free from the doors before they've opened more than a crack. It breaks the symbol painted on them, renders them useless, and the doors splinter into shards when the archangel throws itself at them.

It's the most impressive sight that Dean has ever seen. The angel himself is small, unassuming, but the wings. Pure fury radiates from the creature. His wingspan is greater by far than Castiel's, every feather purest white and tipped in gold. They vibrate in anger and Dean meets the archangel's gaze and sees golden-brown eyes blazing in return. The archangel doesn't even glance around, doesn't try to escape the way all the other angel's do before attacking whoever is in the ring. He settles his sights on Dean, curls his hands into fists and steps forward. Even from here, Dean can hear the deep base rumble in its throat, the build-up of a scream that would probably render the whole of the stadium deaf.

Dean drops his bola and he tosses his blade to the side out of reach. The archangel snaps straighter at this, a little out of his defensive stance and his eyes narrow as he casts his gaze over Dean, searching out a hidden weapon that isn't there. Behind him, Dean can see his dad jump to his feet and Dean holds out his hands, palms open for the angel to see as well as the rest of the stadium.

The archangel still advances on him but he's turned from full out confrontational to wary. The archangel waits to see how this will play out and he tilts his head in the same cat-like curiosity that Castiel does.

"I'm not like them; I don’t want to fight you."

But the archangel only sneers at him and steps forward again, falling back into his aggressive stance and Dean's losing him. He's losing all of them. He glances back over the archangel's shoulder and sees his dad frantically talking to someone, to Bobby, who tries to wave him off, calm him. This is how Dean works, he's never once taken down an angel with a weapon and it sinks Dean's stomach a bit to realize John didn't know that. John had never been in the crowd of onlookers watching until the end.

"Please listen to me," Dean tries to plead, raising his voice to the people of the stadium. "They're not what we think. We don't have to do this!"

The archangel takes another step, Dean can feel the touch of his wings as he flexes them forward, as he studies Dean and this close even his small size manages to tower above Dean's height. Dean can't stop himself from leaning back a little, from wishing for a second that he had his blade. Maybe the archangel sees it in his gaze or maybe it's the sudden cry of his dad that makes the angel snap when he touches Dean with wingtips.

"Someone get him out of the ring, dammit!"

The archangel lets loose a half-scream and lunges for him. Dean rolls to the ground but the giant wingspan catches him and pitches him into the sand. The archangel is on him then and Dean grapples with the sand to find purchase and push himself backwards. He manages to roll to the side just in time for a heavy wing to beat the ground with a force that would have broken his rib cage.

"Open the gates! Get in there! Dean!" His dad is calling out for him and Dean hears the gears of the heavy main gate. "Get out of there!"

Dean scrambles to his feet, sees the gateway open and runs for it. One push of his wings and the archangel is on Dean's back so they both crash heavy to the ground, the breath rushing from Dean's lungs.

The wind is kicked up all around them, scattering the sand in a whirlwind as the archangel beats at the ground, as Dean fights tooth and nail to get free. He lands a heavy kick to the angel's chest and he falls back. If Dean could only get his hand on the archangel's wing but the archangel isn't giving him a chance.

"Angel! There's an attack!" Dean hears the cry, he hears the alarms going off and thinks 'no'. Not now. This can't happen now, the angels never attack during the day. Hopelessness fills him for a moment and the archangel sees the weakness and takes the chance, driving Dean again to his back, where it poises for a kill that never comes.

It's the canyon with Castiel all over again. Dean squeezes his eyes shut and waits for the blow, opening his eyes only to find the archangel staring at him in confusion. Then the weight of the archangel is knocked from his chest and beside him, there's a great screaming fight. Dean catches sight of Castiel throwing the archangel clear across the ring with a hard hit from his wing to the archangel's throat. Castiel has himself squarely between the archangel and Dean, midnight blue wings spread in warning.

"Gabriel," Castiel's voice rumbles out in anger. "Stop this."

Movement catches Dean's gaze from above and he can't find his ruined breath fast enough to shout out a warning for Castiel and the archangel. Nets fly into the air and tangle in their wings and Dean cries out as Castiel is brought to the ground in a hard tackle by John Winchester, who never misses.

"No! Dad, stop!" Dean ignores the burn of his ribs and struggles to his feet, running forward even as Castiel finds the strength to knock John away. It doesn't matter, the weights on the nets drag his wings down and Dean sees a flash of blind panic in his angel's eyes before there are hunters in the ring. Hunters that swarm in to subdue Castiel and the archangel.

"Dad! Don't hurt him!"

John turns to him askance, down at the angel who’s now at his feet and Dean never wanted to see those wings wrapped tightly in netting again. John's foot presses down on one, mindless of the grimace of pain that crosses Castiel's features. To the side, the archangel thrashes and twists but the nets have him as well and four hunters drag him down to the ground.

"Please dad."

"...Get back to the house." When Dean starts to shake his head and step forward, another hunter grabs him from behind and Dean's left without choice, struggling against the hold until a second hunter joins them and he's dragged out of the ring.

"Cas!"

**

Dean is shoved unceremoniously into his house and though he tries to leave, the hunters that brought him here slam the door and remain outside to guard the entrances. Dean squeezes his eyes shut in frustration and worry, pacing the length of the entrance hall until his ribs ache too much and it gets difficult to breathe.

Castiel is probably dead already. Dean should have forced them both to run when they had the chance. He should have killed the angel before it ever got so far. It's not only the pain of his ribs that makes it difficult to breathe; the back of his throat is burning and his eyes swim as he sinks down to the floor, back braced against the wall and he stares listlessly, waiting for the door to open.

It's only Sam when it does. Still Dean is on him, in his face and demanding to know what's going on. What the hunters are doing to Castiel and even to the archangel. The hunters which Dean doesn't even consider himself one of anymore and he's not sure what the makes him. Sam's face is drawn with his own worry as he nudges Dean back a step.

“They're alive still. Castiel and the archangel. They've got them trapped in the ring with fire.”

The fire traps are rarely used, there's too much of a chance they'll get out of hand and burn the forest, and Dean can only think of one time he's seen one. A ring of cursed oil that when lit, angels can't step over without their wings instantly burning away. The worst part is that it doesn't kill them, just leaves them in screaming writhing agony. Dean has already seen Castiel's wings damaged, the thought of them gone makes bile rise at the back of his throat.

“We have to get them out.”

Sam shakes his head. “We can't do anything right now. There are hunters guarding the house and guarding the stadium. Dad's gonna be here any moment and look at you, Dean. You're a mess. Come on, into the kitchen and let me clean you up.”

Dean lets himself be steered to the kitchen with little choice in the matter and when he catches sight of himself in the reflection of a window; it stops him for a moment. He hadn't even noticed the sticky trail of blood down the side of his face, not while his thoughts have been a jumbled mess of panic and Castiel. When he slows down and takes a deep breath, he realizes just how much his body aches. There's the cut at his temple, caked in sand, a scrape all along his arm in a similar state. And the bruises from the archangel's wings impacting with him so many times.

Sam presses him down onto a chair and Dean puts up with it, only hissing a complaint as Sam cleans and bandages everything he can.

"I should have run." Dean drops his head into his hands and Sam's big hand settles on his shoulder. When he looks up, John is standing at the kitchen entrance and Dean has never once seen him look so angry, not since he hunted down and killed the angel that killed mom. "Dad..."

"You wanna explain to me, boy, just what the hell you thought you were doing out there?"

"I-"

"You could have gotten yourself killed! You could have gotten someone else killed."

"Not if you would have liste-"

"That's enough, Dean. Why can't you do what's expected of you? Listen to the simplest orders. Both of you." John is shaking his head, looking between them, at Sam who stands by Dean's side and Dean feels John's disappointment hit him like the archangel's wing to his chest. He never wanted to disappoint- No. Dean's not going to fall back this time.

"You're not listening to me. You never listen. Just please don't hurt Castiel. I can explain-"

The name gets John's attention more than anything else Dean might have said and he steps in, looms over Dean who's still sitting beneath the pressure of Sam's hand on his shoulder. The contemplation in his gaze sparks all sorts of warning bells but Dean can't stop what he's started now. He wishes to god that he could. "Castiel?" John echoes.

"The angel. They're not like what we think. They're being controlled, they-"

"The angel said this to you?"

"Yea- No. Dad, no." Dean's on his feet, grabbing for his dad's arm as John turns away. "Just listen to me for once!" But he tries to tug John to a stop and John shoves him away, back into Sam who catches Dean and holds on. The door slams on John's retreating back and Sam and Dean exchange helpless glances.

**

The hunters keep close watch over the house, no doubt under John's orders and every attempt to sneak by them fails. The hunters that guard Cansae are good; Dean and Sam alone don't stand a chance. What they need is a little outside help and when there's a scuffle outside the main door, Sam cautiously opens it, finding Jo standing on the other side with the guard unconscious at her feet.

"Jo?" Sam questions in astonishment. More of a surprise is the twins standing behind her.

Dean grins as he shoulders past Sam. "Thanks, Jo." She grins back but their relief doesn't last long before Jo's smile is falling away. "What's happening? Is Cas okay?" Dean demands.

Most of her answer is in the way she won't meet his gaze. "They put the archangel back in its cage. Your dad has Castiel held at the jail house and no one is allowed in."

It's all Dean needs to hear. Castiel is still alive. The jail is small though, thick concrete and only a couple of cells because there isn't much crime to be had. Among the citizens, Cansae is harmonious when they have the larger worry of the angel attacks to keep them all drawn together. It'll be harder if John has said no one gets in. Jo catches his arm and stops him before he can get through the front entrance.

“John's interrogating him.”

Dean closes his eyes for a long moment. “You mean torturing him.”

“And there's five guards outside the jail on horses. What are you going to do?”

Dean honestly has no idea and again, he finds himself needing outside help. He glances between Jo, the twins, Sam. At Sam, the smile spreads out over his face and Sam glares because he already knows Dean's answer. “Something stupid. Come on, to the stadium.”

They tie and lock the unconscious guard inside the house and then make their way along the side streets but the town is mostly subdued and empty. Everyone has turned in; shut their doors to gossip amongst themselves. About angels and Dean and the bad reputation that Cansae has now surely earned. Dean can't feel guilty about that, only glad that there's no one to stop them across the town and at the stadium, everyone has cleared out. Dean hopes it stays deserted, that the training won't return here, that it won't ever have to return anywhere.

He lifts the main iron gate with Jo's help and they secure the rope pulley to hold it there before following the other three into the ring. They stand facing the five doors. Four of those hold angels behind them and Dean takes a deep breath before he steps up to the one containing the archangel. He crosses his fingers that the second time is the charm and opens the heavy doors.

The archangel is there to greet him but he isn't so quick to attack this time, staring through the doors at Dean with narrowed eyes though he stays put in the shadows of the cage.

“Just hear me out, okay?” Dean gets out quickly, before the archangel can decide ripping his head off would serve him better. He can sense the nervous gazes of the others behind him.

“I don't need to hear anything,” the archangel responds and Dean's eyes widen in surprise that he spoke at all. The archangel prowls forward until Dean takes a step back, gritting his teeth to force himself still as the archangel circles him once. Assessing.

“Cas called you Gabriel, right?”

“Cas calls me a lot of things. Gabriel's one of them.”

Dean swears the archangel is actually messing with him as he steps away from Dean and turns his scrutinizing attention on the group of new hunters behind him. Dean's a little proud of the way they lift their heads and stare at the angel right back. They're trained hunters after all and that still means something.

“He tells me a lot of things too,” Gabriel goes on, turning his back on the others in a show of confidence so he and Dean are standing face to face again. “And I wanna make it clear that I'm not helping you, I'm helping him.” He softens just a little, his wings losing their tense pose and folding down to his back, and he extends his hand to Dean's. “Angels were a family once. We should be again.”

“Good enough for me,” Dean says and he grins as he takes the archangel's hand in his own to shake on it.

Gabriel opens the remaining doors, putting his strength to use to allow them to walk out. Each in turn is surprised to see him and they bow their heads almost meekly, casting nervous glances between the hunters and the archangel. Dean has never seen a group of angels looking so scared before. All save for the final angel, the fiery red-head. When she walks out, she's held high and she meets Gabriel's stare. They share a quiet smile and then Gabriel is turning to address them, angels and hunters alike who stand side by side. Looking at them, Dean has a vision of a future that can't possibly come to pass.

“Alright kids,” Gabriel addresses the hunters but gestures over to the angels. “We are gonna help you out. So no killing or maiming from anyone while this little truce is going on. We need to get my brother out of there before he says something no one wants to hear.”

“And what is that exactly? What's John trying to get out of him?” Jo speaks up, meeting the archangel's gaze.

“My guess? The location of the city of angels, which is the last place humans want to be going.”

“Why?”

Gabriel rolls his eyes. “You ask a lot of questions. It's irritating. I know what you're thinking. 'Oh the city of angels! We could exterminate them all, pesky fucking birds.' Right? But you're the ones that'll end up on the chopping block. It's better the way it is.”

“Cas said you were being forced,” Dean breaks in. “We could help.”

“Castiel talks too much. Now tell me where he is.”

The jail house but there's no safe way of getting there during the daylight hours. The moment the angel's are spotted they'll be put down and killed, something they'd all like to avoid. Night is marginally better but with flashy wings like Gabriel, the archangel and the other grey-winged angel are too high profile. Which leaves the red winged one - Anael, Gabriel calls her - and the brown winged - Sariel.

In the mean time, they'll have to wait and Dean is stuck knowing that his angel is alone and scared, with god knows what happening to his wings. That it's likely his dad who's inflicting the pain.

They break the lines of the sigils on the insides of the cage doors and the angels reluctantly walk back in to wait there out of sight, doors closed behind them. They'll be able to break free without the wards in place and Dean climbs up to the netting to cut one of the lines of the symbol there as well. There's nothing to be done about the deep carvings on the walls but the angels can get out now. Afterwards Dean and the others leave the ring, careful not to draw attention as they go their separate ways with an agreement to meet back at the stadium after nightfall.

Dean can't stay away from the jail house, sneaking up to the back where there's no entrance and the small windows to the two rooms are barred with thick iron. He has to push up onto his toes to see through and he wishes he hadn't.

The room is dim without much natural light coming through the window and there's nothing lit inside except for the low burning ring of fire that surrounds Castiel. He's strapped down to a chair, sitting in the middle of a symbol that renders all his strength useless. His wings are bound in crisscrossing rope and it takes Dean a moment of staring to realize there are more symbols woven there. Simple ones but they all work to have Castiel staying listlessly where he's been put without a fight.

Castiel is alone for the moment and Dean hisses out his name to get his attention. Castiel doesn't move save a subtle shifting of his head and Dean knows the angel has heard him. “Gonna get you out of there, Cas, just be ready.” There's a noise on the other side of the door and Dean quickly ducks down out of view.

“Alright, angel.” Dean closes his eyes at the voice of his dad and he wants to be angry but a month ago and Dean knows he would have been doing the same thing. Angels were animals, worse - they were monsters to most the population and angels have never given anyone reason to think otherwise. Sometimes Dean's not even sure himself, when Castiel won't answer his questions and now Gabriel, who says it's better the way it is. Dean wants to know why as much as his dad but not like this.

He stays with his back pressed against the rough wall of the jail; head cocked a bit to catch the sounds from inside. After a moment of imposing silence, the door creaks open again and Dean wishes he could chance peering into the room again to see who it is. But whoever else entered the room stays silent, and it’s John’s gruff voice that breaks the quiet.

“I know you can understand me. I know you can answer me, so answer. Where is the city of angels?”

There’s no answer and after the silence has been allowed to draw out for a moment, a sharp noise echoes from the room and Castiel is hissing in pain. Dean clenches his eyes tight shut, wills himself not to move. There’s nothing he can do yet and jumping in half-cocked is only going to make everything worse.

“I know you can speak, angel. Speak!”

Dean can hear the low rumbling growl of Castiel voice before his words come, hoarse and quiet. “I did not start this fight.”

“No?” Dean does not like the tone in John’s voice. He’s heard it before, the ‘I know you’re lying and I just caught you in the act’ tone. “Why don’t we bring my boy in here and he can tell us what he thinks. Dean?” Dean’s heart stops when his dad suddenly calls his name, pressing back harder to the wall as if it could swallow him from sight. “Don’t be foolish, come in here.”

Dean still pauses a long moment, until he feels like he can maybe breathe through this without hyperventilating and then he walks around to the front of the jail house. The hunters guarding the entrance let him past and John is there to greet him outside the cell. Dean could run but he knows as well as anyone that there’s no point. A deep breath and he steps into the room and the first thing he sees is Bobby Singer standing just to the side of the ring of fire that surrounds Castiel.

Bobby isn't the only other one there. There's another man, a hunter that Dean recognizes as the general of Sarnia, with a lust and a talent for killing angels that rivals his dad's. Dean glances between the three of them and at Castiel, who strains against his bonds but his wings and arms and legs are all wrapped too tightly.

“What's going on here?”

“It's time you knew a truth not many people do, Dean,” John says though he glances to both the Sarnia general and Bobby for confirmation. The general gives only a stiff nod. Bobby looks less sure but under the intent gazes of the other two, relents with a shrug.

“Boy'd find it out on his own now anyway. Stubborn idjit.” Bobby's tone is resigned but he goes on, staring at Dean until Dean wants to shrink away into the shadows again. “There's a whole committee dedicated to tracking down the location of the angel's city. Those top researchers out there ain't just picking apart their weaknesses.” Bobby turns his gaze on Castiel, who meets his stare with a hard glare, promising violence in a way Dean hasn't seen before. He's seen Castiel angry but this is the first time he's really looked at the angel and thought Castiel might follow through on the threat in his gaze. “But maybe it'd be best to hear it from the angel's mouth.”

Bobby reaches to the side when Castiel thins his lips and refuses to speak, to a table in the shadows and while Dean expects him to draw a weapon - the protest is on the tip of his tongue - Bobby only holds out an old worn book. He flips it open to the beginning, crossing the low burning line of the fire, and holds it so Castiel can read the first passage. With a wary glance to Bobby, he turns his eyes to the book and does so.

It's silent until Castiel glances at the humans with wide eyes. “How do you know all this?”

John snorts. “Did you think you were the first angel to talk to a human?”

Castiel lowers his gaze. “I know that I'm not.”

“Then you probably know what happens when you don't cooperate. So it's your turn to shed some light on this. Start from the beginning.”

Castiel only lifts his gaze when he comes to a decision, eying them all before eventually resting on Dean and he begins in a rough voice, “It was all a very very long time ago and I can only tell my side of the story... When we were peaceful and united under the leadership of our brothers until they fought and split us down the middle.”

**

Part Three

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