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He screamed.
It was all he could bring himself to these days, endless screaming until it hurt in some non-corporeal way that he couldn't explain himself. But even then he only stopped just long enough until the weird headache passed and he could start all over again.
In the beginning that had been different, he had cursed then, gotten creative and inventive to tell this son of a bitch just what he was thinking about the broken deal. He had cussed him out, ranted endlessly over this and that and made sure to include as many blasphemious crap as he could come up with.
He managed to piss Michael off but only in a way where his prison cell turned into one without a view, locked in darkness instead of being forced to watch.
And that was the moment Dean's anger turned to pure panic.
Darkness, there was only black unending darkness.
So he started screaming.
He screamed.
He screamed until he didn't know anymore how much time had passed since he had said yes under Cas' hard protests, since Dean had fucked up again, probably for the last time ever. It could have been days, could have been weeks or months, hell it could have been years. Dean had no way of knowing anymore, and with that realization he began to feel his sanity start to slip away from him.
He began to see things in the darkness, people, places, always out of reach and drifting away quicker the harder he tried to get to them, and every single time he had trouble recalling how the memories had gone on, who those people might be. Panic curled tighter and tighter around him and he screamed louder, remembering the witch's spell that had taken his memories away until Dean hadn't known anything about himself anymore.
He brought up the old mantra again. Switched it up to complete it.
"My name is Dean Winchester. Sam is my brother. Mary is my mom. Cas is my best friend. And Jack is my boy."
Again and again and again.
Until it was a song stuck in his head.
At one point, maybe because he was in fact getting delirious with panic and anxiety, and after a shocking moment where he hadn't been able to recall what sunlight felt like, Dean's mantra had changed again.
"My name is Dean Winchester. Sam is my brother. Mary is my mom. John was my dad. Cas is my best friend. And Jack is my boy."
It had slashed through him like a hot iron rod.
His father's name bringing everything to a standstill, the screaming dying away.
He scrambled to think of everything he knew and could bring up about his father, just because it was something new to do, something new to cling to.
He let his memories run through the years, turned giddy and almost ecstatic the more he remembered, didn't even grow sad over the bad moments, just because he remembered, clear as day.
He went back and back, his crazy life to thank that he could go back further than his own existence, two times he had travelled back in time, two times he had met his dad before John had even been one. The first time because of Castiel's try to save Sam from slipping down the dark path, the second time to try and prevent Anna from killing his parents. The first one hadn't worked out, the second one would have ended in total disaster as well if...
Dean's mind came to silence.
It was such a random thing to remember.
Such a random thing that was so easy to remember suddenly.
His second stint in the past would have ended in total disaster if Michael hadn't intervened.
Michael who had killed Anna. Michael who had stopped Uriel. Michael who had brought Sam back to life. Michael who had sent them back to the future. Michael who had erased Mary's and John's memories to have the future still be Dean's present.
Michael and "It's a bloodline."
Michael and "It's in your blood, your father's blood, your family's blood."
Michael and "You're my true vessel but not my only one."
Michael and "I am a good son."
Michael and "Think of a million random acts of chance that let John and Mary be born, to meet, to fall in love, to have the two of you. Think of the million random choices that you make, and yet how each and every one of them brings you closer to your destiny. Do you know why that is? Because it's not random. It's not chance. It's a plan that is playing itself out perfectly. Free will's an illusion, Dean. That's why you're going to say yes."
And he did.
Nine years later he said yes.
To another Michael.
To the wrong Michael.
That day back then, back in the future, back in his own timeline, Dean had created Team Free Will out of rebellion alone, just to piss Michael off, just to stick it to him that free will sure as hell wasn't an illusion. Team Free Will, a mantra that he had clung to as the Apocalypse had loomed closer and closer with every passing day. And later on, it had always come back to that, always centered back down on that, free will, their choices, their control.
But in the end, Michael had also been right, and Dean had said yes.
Just to the wrong Michael and he had paid bitterly for that.
He was an Archangel's true vessel. His name was Dean Winchester and he was the Michael Sword, he was the true vessel for the Prince of Heaven. He was the Archangel Michael's true vessel, his world's Michael, not any else's.
Michael in the Cage.
Michael trapped in Hell.
Michael and "You can't fight City Hall."
Watch me.
As it was back then, so it will be now.
Dean's screams stopped and turned into something else as the ever familiar flow of stubborness and rebellion bled into his metaphorical veins.
Team Free Will.
"I wasn't made for you."
Sam had conquered Lucifer to let his free will and his choices catapult them into the Cage. Dean could conquer a Michael whom he hadn't been made for.
"I wasn't made for you."
Dean had resisted fate again and again. He had saved the world. He had crawled his way out of Hell and Purgatory. He had gone to Heaven and returned. He had seen the blackest darkness and the brightest light. He had stood up to the Darkness and God themselves.
"I wasn't made for you."
It had been his hand that had killed Lucifer finally for good.
" My name is Dean Winchester. Sam is my brother. Mary is my mom. John was my dad. Cas is my best friend. And Jack is my son. And I wasn't made for you."
Not this Michael's true vessel.
"I wasn't made for you."
Not this Michael's sword.
"I wasn't made for you."
Not this Michael's puppet.
"I wasn't made for you."
The Archangel he had been destined to be hosting was locked into a damaged Cage.
And why did he think that just now?
Damaged.
He couldn't remember anymore who had told it to him, whether it had been Crowley himself, or Cas or Sam but someone had mentioned it later on. Amara's descent from her own prison had damaged the Cage so heavily that Lucifer had been able to reach out and send visions to Sam that had made Dean's brother believe he was getting messages from God.
Would that work the other way around as well?
"I wasn't made for you."
The only thing that could kill an Archangel was another Archangel with their blade, lesson learned by now, reaching for any other method was pointless. Chuck might have been an option, or Amara, but Dean had actually given up hope in reaching out to them anymore. Chuck came and went when he wanted to, not when people were begging, and even in his frustration over that, Dean realized that asking God to kill one of his first sons was cruel.
You couldn't ask a parent to kill their child.
"I wasn't made for you."
Not even when the parent was the only being more powerful than these nuked up assholes. Gabriel had truly been the only decent one and he had already been jerk enough. Raphael had sucked. Lucifer obviously had, too. But had their Michael really sucked so badly as well? He had followed the heavenly dictated script because he had wanted to be a good son to an absent father, maybe even hoping that would bring Chuck back.
Dean had been able to relate to that very well back then, even more so than he could now, he just hadn't wanted to admit it to anyone, let alone himself. There had been enough in Sam and him that had mirrored Lucifer and Michael in personality and action, Gabriel pointing it out so dry and fact like had only brought it only home to where it had already taken root in Dean's mind.
"I wasn't made for you."
Michael, the other world's Michael needed to die.
And unless they suddenly found any other ones, there was only one Archangel left. Imprisoned but not dead. Imprisoned in a damaged Cage.
"I wasn't made for you."
He kept that on repeat.
Let become as natural as breathing just so the monster riding his body currently wouldn't become aware of Dean making plans.
"I wasn't made for you."
Plans to survive.
"I wasn't made for you."
Plans to break free.
"I wasn't made for you."
Plans to kill Michael.
"I wasn't made for you."
Trapped in the darkness still, Dean knelt, lowered his head and closed his eyes.
"I wasn't made for you."
Trapped in the darkness still, Dean prayed.
He prayed to an angel he would have never seen himself turn towards in an hour of need.
"I wasn't made for you."
'I don't know if this can reach you, Michael, but you once told me that it was only a matter of time until I said yes, and it pains me to admit it but you were right. It took longer than you could have probably ever imagined but I said yes. The another you, from another world. I fucked up. I needed to save Jack and Sam from Lucifer and I fucked up. You once promised me that you wouldn't leave me a drooling mess after your task was done, I fear this version of you doesn't have the same plans. He means to burn this world down to draw your father down here so he can kill him. You are the only one who can stop him, Michael, so here I am praying. Break free, cast this bastard out of me and I'll say yes. We can stop him together.'
"I wasn't made for you."
'I'm your true vessel, not his, that has to count for something, give you the upper hand. Cast him out of me and I'll say yes to you.'
--
Though he had no concept of time anymore, Dean was still beginning to be sure that too much time had passed and he didn't know anymore how to pray, how to state anything differently. Maybe Michael simply didn't have the strength and power to break out of the Cage, maybe the Cage was still too much intact, maybe Chuck had been telling the truth and Michael really wasn't in any condition to fight anything anymore. Maybe Dean wasn't motivation enough.
"I wasn't made for you."
Maybe Dean had fucked up too much this time.
"I wasn't made for you."
He had said yes, now he needed to pay the price.
"I wasn't made for you."
Locked away until Michael killed God and ended them all.
"I wasn't made for you."
Locked away until Michael had no use for Dean anymore.
"I wasn't made for you."
Locked away until Dean was utterly chewed up, spit out and useless.
"I wasn't made for you."
Dean was useless.
He was useless and al...
Light. So much light. Darkness giving away to light.
It burned. It warmed. It healed.
It freed.
It...
Dean, your move, cast him out, say yes to me.
Noise and screams. Light and Darkness. Fire against ice, and it all burned.
It was so much and it tore Dean in two, pulled on his strings and it was too much, too much, too much.
Dean!
"I WASN'T MADE FOR YOU!"
Dean, you have to say it.
Yes.
A small simple word, the light burned out the darkness and Dean Winchester breathed out a gasp. He gasped for air and stared down at the hands braced against the back of an ugly looking couch. His hands. Colors, patterns and shapes assaulted his senses. Light and smell and touch.
Close your eyes, Dean, focus on breathing right now.
He followed the advice, took away sight out of the equation. He breathed, focused on nothing else but breathing until they were no longer rolling through his chest like a hurricane. He breathed until it was calm and steady.
Okay, good, now don't freak out, I will just move us to sit on the couch. Keep your eyes closed.
It was weird to feel his body moving without his control, to feel steady and determined movements without seeing anything but Dean was certainly too happy to be able to feel again to even think about freaking out. He sat down on something soft and comfortable, leaned back into pillows.
Keep your eyes closed a little longer. You have been locked away a long time, Dean, give yourself a moment to come back.
"How long?" He wanted to know and flinched away from the sound of his own voice echoing in his ears, little down with the volume, buddy. He rubbed his hands together and sighed at the feeling.
As far as I can tell at least seven months. I cannot provide a more detailed timeframe right now.
Fuck. Seven months.
Sam, Cas, Mum, Jack.
Were they okay?
We can check on them once you calmed down, Dean. I cannot have you falling apart right now, it would mean great damage to both of us.
"I'm okay, I got this." Dean told himself but still kept his eyes shut, "what about the other you? Where did the other Michael go?"
To find another vessel, I assume. Another thing we can look into after you have control over your senses back.
Another question came to Dean's mind then as he felt the ground underneath his feet, soft carpet, he wasn't wearing shoes but socks. What an odd observation to feel important. "You being here, does that mean Adam is alone in..."
Adam is in a safe place. We can get him on our way to the rest of your family.
"Is he okay?"
He is doing better than you are right now. The other Michael did not take good care of you.
"I don't feel any pain..."
Because I am blocking and healing the damage of your body and soul.
"Where are we?" Dean asked as he slowly opened his eyes and took in the room he was in, it looked tacky and expensive, the kind of stuff Rowena would appreciate. It looked big, a sitting room of sorts, there was even a piano in one corner, a bar in the other. It was dark outside the floor length windows, a blessing probably because it didn't assault him with even more stuff to look at. When he looked down at himself he found himself in a suit without the jacket. Black pants, matching black vest over a white button down, his hand reaching up showed a bow tie around his neck that Dean struggled to get rid off until Michael intervened and guided his fingers.
Plaza Hotel in Detroit. Penthouse Suite on the top floor. And I don't know why Detroit.
"Is there a phone here?" Dean wondered out loud and looked around without getting up just yet. "I need to call Sam. I need to know if they're okay."
Speak to Castiel.
"Calling him or Sam, doesn't matter. I just need to catch one..."
Dean, speak to Castiel.
Oh.
"I don't know how."
Think of him, I will guide you there.
--
As the eight month since losing Dean crept closer, Castiel sometimes wondered how he could keep on going when all evidence pointed towards them being stuck at a point where there was no hope they could either get Dean back or win against this other world's Michael. Nearly eight months of not knowing if Dean was even still alive, they had no trustworthy evidence that the Michael who had been seen by some people was actually wearing Dean still.
None of those witnesses had ever seen Dean before.
All of them had been terribly hurt and recovering in a hospital with heavy trauma and showing them a picture of Dean usually only brought on hesitant maybes. And that had only been in the beginning, four months in Michael had disappeared from any sightings and had apparently gone over to let some minions do his dirty work for him in whatever plan he was trying to work towards. They had no way of knowing if Dean was still alive, four months were a long time enough that Michael could have just burned him out by now or killed him after switching vessels.
Castiel didn't want to entertain those thoughts but he had to in order to just remain sane.
Dean had been destined to become the Michael Sword, the true vessel of the Prince of Heaven, even before he had been born, but and that was something Castiel kept on chewing on as time went on after Dean's "yes", it had been for the Michael of their world.
And as Sam grew far beyond himself in balancing the overseeing control work he did for the hunter network and his own endeavors to find his brother, Castiel swore to himself that he was going to divide his time in even more intervals. He had once promised Dean to look after Sam if he wasn't around anymore and he would not go back on it now, he kept his own eyes and ears open for any signs of Michael but also spent a great amount of his focus on finding out what Michael was planning and on how to stop this whatever.
And on top of it all he made sure to get in contact with Jack on a regular basis as well, slowly growing used to being human Jack had been sent along with Mary and Bobby Singer by them. They hadn't been happy about almost abandoning him like this, but Sam and Castiel had also both known that Jack needed something now that they wouldn't be able to give him. He needed to learn how to be human, how to be without powers, how to fight and protect himself without any supernatural abilities. He wanted to learn how to be a hunter, and neither Sam nor Castiel had the head for it, Mary had only been too happy to take Jack along, have him learn.
They talked on the phone almost daily now, and where Jack had only wanted to talk about their progress on finding Dean in the beginning, had he since changed the drift of his questions. Castiel didn't know if he had followed on some given advice or if he had made the choice himself but nowadays Jack told them a lot about the cases they had been following up on, on the things he had learned. When he asked questions it was usually to find out how they were doing.
It was all working and it wasn't working at all.
Rowena joining them at least assured that Sam was sleeping regularly because Rowena was better in getting him to do stuff than Castiel. And with more sleep, Sam at least levelled out again, Castiel would have loved to have that escape as well, his Grace levels weren't what they once were but they were too high to find true comfort in sleep.
Now, as the days were counting down to the eight months mark and his thoughts were more and more circling around the frightening thought that Dean might be long burned out of his own body, many of his brainstorming sessions turned more and more towards killing Michael for good. Without including the necessity of assuring Dean's safety.
When there was nothing to safe, one could go all out.
If he couldn't save Dean, he could sure as hell avenge him.
The only problem was, Archangels weren't Heaven's most lethal weapon without reason. Killing them was near impossible, he had gone down that road before, back when the Apocalypse had been edging closer and then the year after with Raphael. Conversations with Gabriel later had only cemented the knowledge in his head, there were only two ways to kill an Archangel. Godlike powers or an Archangel wielding their blade against another.
Basing trust in Chuck returning was not something Castiel was ready for, he didn't know if Chuck was even realizing what was happening, let alone if he was interested, and he was also aware that it was a cruel demand to ask Chuck to kill an Archangel. Alternate Worlds or not, they had always been more his sons than any other of his creations had been.
So the second route it was.
Only problem.
They were running empty on Archangels.
The blades weren't an issue, they were almost stacked up on them. Heaven carried Raphael's, locked away in the resecured armory. The bunker had Lucifer's locked away behind heavy spellwork. And Sam kept Gabriel's on his person at almost all times, Castiel had caught him twisting it around when anxious enough times these days to be sure of it.
They had the weapon, they were missing the one to wield it.
And the more his mind circled around that fact, the more he knew that there was a possible solution, he just didn't want to reach for it, let alone think about it.
It was in another one of those spiralling moments late in the night in the bunker library that Rowena approached him after having made sure Sam was actually going to sleep. The three of them were alone in the bunker again for the first time in days and as much as Castiel enjoyed talking to the other hunters, especially the ones building themselves a new life in their world, he also found small comfort in silence and empty corridors so he could think.
"He fell asleep holding the blade again," Rowena sighed when she sank down on a chair and Castiel looked away from the book in his hands to send a glance towards the direction of Sam's room before looking over Rowena, judging how tired she was herself. Magic only did so much for a witch, she needed to refill her energy at some point, too.
"He knows that though he can't kill Michael with it, he can at least inflict harm on him," Castiel mentioned and Rowena nodded, starting to sort through the stacks of notes Sam had made again. "And I think he also still hasn't given himself time to process that Lucifer is really dead. Gabe's blade makes him feel safer."
And it helped with the grief over losing Gabriel again, another thing they didn't really have time for yet. Another thing loaded onto their shoulders and wearing them down.
"He isn't safer with it when he feels asleep with it and cuts himself in the process." Rowena pointed out and Castiel had to agree to that. "What's going on in your head? You've got that look in your eyes for a couple of days now. Like you found something but don't want it because it's bad?"
"It's gonna be eight months soon," Castiel reminded Rowena and her eyes grew heavy, "just hit me two nights ago. Eight months, and we have not a single clue pointing towards Dean still being alive. Michael could have burned him out months ago, he could have burned him out the day he left Sam and Jack in that church."
"You can't give up hope, Castiel."
"What if he has? What if he clung to the hope of us getting to him until he gave up?" Castiel wanted to know from her, fully aware that Rowena wouldn't have an answer for him. "I rebelled against Heaven once to prevent Dean from saying yes to one Michael, and eight months ago I had to stand by helplessly while he said yes to another. And I just don't know what to do anymore. We are running out of options and out of time." Rowena surprised him when she reached across the table and curled a warm small hand around his left one.
"Castiel, we cannot give up hope. You know Dean better than I do but even I know that Dean is a survivor, and he would not give up. Not even against an Archangel." She was comforting him but all Castiel's mind did was able to remind him of was how Dean had once been so close to give up where it had concerned another Michael. "And we know now that killing an Archangel with the right blade doesn't kill the vessel." Nick had woken up a good two hours after Lucifer had been killed, injured but alive and after he had healed, they had set him up in Sioux Falls where Jody and Donna could keep an eye on him.
They had tried it for a few days in the bunker but Sam hadn't been handling it well and for Castiel he came first.
"Not harming Dean in the process of killing Michael would mean we had someone to be able to do that in the first place, Rowena," he nudged her towards the unspoken fault in the plan. "We need an Archangel to kill an Archangel. We have no way of reaching out towards other worlds. In order to check if there was an Archangel out there who might help us we would need one in the first place, it's all turning us in circles... Or bringing us to that thought in my head that I don't like."
"And that would be?"
"Our world has an Archangel still." Castiel said and he continued when he saw Rowena frown. "Our Michael, in the Cage," he clarified and Rowena's eyes widened, "he's been trapped down there for ten earthly years now. Trapped in Lucifer's prison. When we were preparing to battle Amara, Chuck said that Michael is in no condition to fight. And I talked about it with Gabe later on, he thinks that the Cage affects Michael thrice as much as Lucifer because he fell pure, and not already tainted."
"So he could be our only solution but also our biggest mistake?" Rowena guessed and Castiel nodded, "sounds like Winchester stakes to me." Castiel wanted to smile and nod because she was right and as stupid as it sounded that was a big point for the 'go for it' side of things. Before he could do anything though a voice cut through his Grace, yelling his name in such an intensity that his Grace spiked with pain in shock and alarm.
CAS!
And he froze.
Cas, goddammit, gimme a sign you heard me.
There were only a handful of people who called him by that name and out of all of them only one would be able to reach out to him via angel radio at the moment... could it truly be...
Cas, seriously, this has to be working or I'll lose my fucking mind after all.
Dean? Dean, is that really you?
It sure as hell isn't the guy who broke my deal and locked me away for months.
How are you doing this?
Outside of his mind Rowena called his name but Castiel raised a hand for her to give him a moment.
It's a story I'd like to explain in person because you're gonna yell at me. Tell me all of you are okay, tell me Michael didn't kill anyone I... know.
We're okay. We're all as okay as we can be. How... Dean, how is this possible? Even if you took control back you shouldn't be able to speak to me like this.
Okay, Michael is gone. I... I cast him out, with help. We are almost done recovering enough strength to come and explain everything. Please tell me you guys are at the bunker and I don't have to start a goose chase with untracable people right now?
Rowena, Sam and I are at the bunker. Dean, please tell me you're okay.
I'm not. I'm not okay but I'm at least rid of the bastard... Alright, someone wants to talk to you, don't freak out, please don't freak out. I asked for this, he saved me. Trust me right now, Cas.
What are you...
Castiel.
--
Dean closed his eyes as his feet settled on solid ground again, flying was already swirling his senses into a blender mess when he was just a come-along, actually being the one with wings was dizzying. Michael had held control for the flight but had kept Dean thankfully at the forefront of his mind and senses, though Dean regretted that slightly while his stomach churned. Once he was sure he wasn't gonna have to find out if he could throw up in a body currently not controlled by him, Grace balanced out his nausea and Dean was able to really take in their surroundings.
It was another hotel room, though this one looked way less pretentious, still nicer than what Dean was used to from the long long years on the road but at least he didn't feel scared to touch anything here.
"Did it work?" A long not heard but still familiar voice spoke up curiously as Dean saw Adam stumble out of the bathroom. He stopped immediately again though, staring at Dean. "Dean?"
"Right now, it's me," Michael spoke with Dean's voice but with him doing it Dean sounded different, Adam's face, older than Dean remembered but still very much him, began to smile. "I'll get back to healing in a moment,just... was everything okay here?"
"Yeah, nothing happened." Adam mentioned and looked towards the windows, Michael didn't turn towards them so Dean couldn't see the view. Dean wasn't prone to Michael's thoughts so he remained confused, only registering that they were apparently close to a major street, maybe even a highway, Dean could hear traffic. "Is Dean okay?" Adam wanted to know eagerly almost and Dean poked against this thread of something in himself.
"He will be." Michael promised and gave Dean a mental shove, the kind that you gave unruly little brothers who couldn't wait patiently for one more second.
"Can I talk to him?" Adam asked and then cringed when someone blasted their horn outside, Dean felt with him, it was so jarring when you had spent so long surrounded by nothingness to be attacked by normal life occurences again. Michael moved and though Dean could feel how he laid his hand on Adam's shoulder, it wasn't him who actually moved. "I'm okay, it's good." Adam waved it off but he looked spooked a little. Michael stepped them back again. "Please let me talk to him."
"Of course."
Once again Dean gasped when he found himself offered up the driver's seat but he didn't lose his footing this time.
"Adam."
"Hello, Dean." And the choice of words had Dean think of Cas and him waiting with Sam in the bunker for his return but he also smiled at Adam.
"Do you know where are we?" He questioned because he needed some orientation to not slip away again, h was beginning to have a more complete assessment of his surroundings and an understanding of his strength and energy but his mind wanted something fact like to hold onto.
"St. Louis. Or at least that's what Michael tells me, there is... there is a lot that changed in ten years." Adam pointed out and walked over to one of the windows, he pulled the curtain aside as Dean followed, giving him an almost clear view of the rounded gateway that definitely showed it was St. Louis.
"I can't believe you're here." He blurted out when the awkwardness was rising in him and Adam brought up a hand to rub the back of his neck.
"Yeah, I... I'm having a hard time believing it myself still." He looked a little lost, maybe a little overwhelmed but overall he looked okay, he looked way better then what Dean would have expected after ten years in the Cage.
Michael had clearly cared, protected him.
For a moment they looked at each other and then Dean stepped forward to pull his littlest brother into a hug. "I'm sorry," he said quietly after just a breath of time had passed, didn't pull away from Adam at all. "I'm so sorry, Adam."
--
"I still don't understand."
Seeing Sam so helpless yet also truly hopeful for the first time in months pained and warmed Castiel's heart at the same time. He knew it was a lot to take in what he had told Sam and Rowena just barely half an hour ago, after so many months of not knowing if Dean was even still alive, he was inbound now any minute.
Bringing with himself another Michael.
Dean had prayed to Michael to save him from his alternate version.
Castiel's own head was spinning over it still. He had rebelled against Heaven to keep Dean from saying yes to Michael a good ten years ago, and now Dean had said yes to two Michaels within one year. It was whiplash. Michael being out of the Cage in the first place, without them knowing even, Chuck had pulled one of those again, not that Castiel was going to be surprised over his Father's antics again anytime soon.
So many questions.
And it all went under in having Dean back.
Having heard his voice alone, the relief.
"I'm sure they can explain it better once they're here," Rowena comforted Sam in his overwhelming confusion, they had relocated to the war room, sitting around the map table that didn't show any Archangel activity. The other world's Michael had hidden himself from being tracked, and their Michael was hiding himself as well, obviously, for he had been out of the Cage for a whole year without anyone but Chuck and Adam knowing. "We should focus right now on knowing that Dean is going to be okay and that we got him back."
"And Adam, too," Sam added in a whisper, he had a hand in his hair, the other pressed against the table, he was working hard on grounding himself. "I can't believe this is happening." Castiel wanted to say something, anything to make this easier on Sam but not a second after Sam had spoken there was the sound of powerful wings and light filled the staircase. Sam and Castiel rushed to their feet, crashing over their chairs in the process, Sam shielding his eyes but Castiel didn't need to.
Castiel could easily see the Grace of his oldest brother, the one he had only seen once up close, that fateful moment when Michael had ordered him to lead a garrison into Hell to save Dean Winchester. Six etheral wings spanned out in the room, disappearing up into the ceiling. And cradled safely within layers of Grace, protected against outside forces of any kind, Castiel could see Dean's soul.
A soul held together by the healing Grace of Heaven's most powerful angel.
And held together by that alone.
Dean was not okay in the slightest.
Even the dimmer but no less bright soul of Dean's youngest brother was looking so much better, and Adam had spent centuries in the Cage.
When the light had faded away, even Sam was now able to see the two figures on the stairs, Adam and Dean or Michael, whoever was currently in charge.
"Dean? Adam?" Sam choked out and pulled Castiel's head back to the moment at hand, Sam was looking between his brothers. Adam gave a tiny smile and Sam choked on nothing, Dean stepped down the stairs and he made a direct line for Sam.
"Yeah, Sammy, it's me. Not alone but it's me." The brothers fell together into a hug and Castiel saw how both of them clung to the other, fingers gripping jackets.
When they broke apart, Sam's eyes were no longer dry but he just roughly wiped a hand over his face before stepping over to where Adam had made it down. Castiel's eyes were drawn towards Dean though who approached with a tired smile.
"I'm so happy to see you again, Dean."
"Yeah, me too, buddy, me too." Dean told him and then it was him who pulled Castiel into a hug, Castiel held on, didn't want to let him go again so soon. They had come so close to losing him. "You can see how bad it is, can't you?" Dean whispered between them and Castiel nodded against his shoulder. "We'll fix it though, we always do." They pulled apart again, too and Castiel kept one hand on Dean's shoulder.
"We always do. Together."
"Team Free Will 3.0?" Dean proposed as Sam and Adam walked up to them and Sam begged Rowena over as well. "I think we got ourselves an Archangel to kill."
"We've got work to do."