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When Raphael’s forces take the bait, showing up en masse to recover the cache of heaven’s weapons, Castiel and his allies are waiting. For months now, Castiel has been losing, and he knows that this is the last opportunity they will have to win a decisive victory.
If they lose this time, if Raphael gains control of the weapons, the whole world will burn.
Castiel puts all thoughts of Dean out of his mind because he cannot afford the distraction. His world narrows to the rise and fall of his sword, the heat and furor of battle, the terrible necessity of killing his brothers and sisters. Castiel will mourn each death later, when he has a moment, but for now he feels nothing.
And then Castiel is face to face with Raphael.
Raphael snarls. “This ends now, Castiel.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
Castiel is outmatched. Raphael is stronger and faster and more powerful—he’s an archangel, and Raphael’s true peers are either dead or trapped in Hell. Castiel is merely a foot soldier, lifted from obscurity because he alone of his brethren raised the righteous man from hell.
But Castiel has something that Raphael will never have—the strong desire to live so that he might see Dean again. Castiel wants things that Raphael would view as weaknesses, but those very emotions lead Castiel to fight harder, to employ every trick, to fight past the pain when Raphael plunges his sword into Castiel’s thigh.
Castiel goes down on one knee, and when Raphael raises his sword for a killing blow, Castiel surges up, thrusting his sword through Raphael’s chest.
All of heaven seems to hold still in that moment, and Castiel feels a surge of sorrow, mixed with a hefty dose of satisfaction, as Raphael’s grace explodes, leaving nothing behind.
Castiel’s victory lends new strength to his allies, and Raphael’s forces begin to retreat in confusion.
The tide has turned, Castiel thinks. The world will not burn.
“Castiel,” Balthazar calls. “Are you all right?”
He nods. “I’ll be fine.”
When Castiel is certain that they have routed what remains of Raphael’s forces, and the cache of weapons is as secure as he can make it, Castiel turns to Balthazar. “I have something I must see to.”
Balthazar gives Castiel an odd look, as though he knows exactly what it is that Castiel plans to do, but he waves Castiel away. “Go on then.”
Dean is still at Bobby’s when Castiel appears in the living room. They’re crowded around the table, paging through a book, and Castiel steps towards them. Dean is the first to sense Castiel’s presence, and in his expression is relief mingled with irritation.
“Nice of you to drop by,” Dean says, and even Castiel can hear the bitter sarcasm in his words.
Castiel limps forward. “I apologize, but Raphael’s forces were overwhelming us. I had no choice.”
Sam’s eyes go to Castiel’s wounded leg. “You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing,” Castiel assures him. “Raphael’s work.”
Dean’s eyes widen. “Since you’re still standing, I assume you won.”
“I did. We do not have to worry about Raphael anymore,” Castiel replies, with what he feels is pardonable smugness.
Dean smiles. “Hey, I can do with one less enemy.” He glances at Bobby and Sam. “Do you guys mind if we take a walk?”
“I could use a break,” Sam replies. “Bobby? You want coffee?”
“I’ll help you,” Bobby says.
Castiel knows that they’re clearing out to give him time alone with Dean, and he wonders how much Sam and Bobby know about their relationship.
“Come on,” Dean says with a jerk of his head. “Let’s go outside.”
Castiel limps after Dean, stepping out into the yard under the bright blue sky. It feels as though a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. His time with Dean has been shadowed by the war in heaven for so long, but that’s now over. Castiel can stay a little longer this time, perhaps give a little more assistance to Dean when necessary.
“So, what happened to you showing up whenever I called?” Dean asks once they’re away from the house.
Castiel knows that Dean is referring to the last time he had called for Castiel, and Castiel had not appeared because of the imminent battle with Raphael’s forces. “I gave you what comfort I could, Dean.”
Dean grimaces, understanding dawning in his expression. “Okay, the fact that you were there without me knowing about it is just creepy.”
Castiel raises his eyebrows. “Creepy?”
“Seriously, Cas, watching someone when they don’t know you’re there is creepy.” Dean looks at Castiel expectantly. “So? What happened?”
“There was a battle, Dean,” Castiel responds. “And I had reason to believe that Raphael would appear. My presence was required.” When Dean’s expression fails to soften, Castiel says, “I have grown attached to this world and to you. I could not allow Raphael to destroy it.”
A smile plays at the corners of Dean’s mouth. “That’s about the sweetest thing anyone has said to me.”
“I mean it,” Castiel responds, suddenly hungry for Dean, for Dean’s mouth. He wants to touch Dean, and to be touched in return.
Dean shakes his head. “Dammit, Cas. Come here.”
Castiel goes willingly, stumbling a bit on his injured leg as he closes the distance between them, steadying himself by grabbing Dean’s shoulders.
“You’re hurt,” Dean murmurs. “You should have told me you weren’t up for a walk, Cas.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Castiel assures him, pressing his lips to Dean’s. “This matters.”
“Does this mean you’ll be around more?” Dean asks between kisses.
“I hope so,” Castiel murmurs against Dean’s mouth. “I want to be.”
Dean smiles. “Good enough for me.”
They kiss under the bright blue sky, the warm sun beating down on Castiel’s shoulders. Castiel has missed this; he’s missed Dean, and he’s grateful to have this opportunity.
“Dean—” he begins, wanting somehow to explain that the connection that hums between them is what had kept Castiel alive during the fight with Raphael.
He’s interrupted by Balthazar’s sudden appearance, however. “Cas—you’re going to have company momentarily,” Balthazar says as Castiel pulls back and Dean lets out an oath of surprise.
Castiel responds instinctively, pushing Dean towards Balthazar. “Protect Dean,” he orders. “Please, Balthazar.”
“It isn’t Dean I’m worried about,” Balthazar says, but he reaches out for Dean anyway.
“Wait, Cas!” Dean exclaims. “What the hell?”
Angels begin appearing, forming a loose circle with Castiel, Dean, and Balthazar in the center. “It appears we’ve been found out,” Castiel says calmly. “Please, Balthazar. Take care of him.”
“Cas!” Dean shouts, but Balthazar is already acting, and they’re gone in the next moment.
Castiel breathes a sigh of relief, and faces his brethren with a calm born of purpose. He has defeated Raphael, and he does not regret his relationship with Dean. If he has to die, at least he has accomplished his purpose—at least Dean is safe. That’s really all that matters.
As Castiel has half-expected, Rachel leads the pack. “Rachel.”
“We followed you,” she says, her sense of betrayal clear in her voice and in her vessel’s expression. “We trusted you. And you consort with one of them?”
Castiel smiles. “Whatever you might think, this is not a weakness. There is nothing shameful in what I have done.”
“We followed you because you gave us the best chance to defeat Raphael. You were pure in your intentions,” Rachel spits out. “And now you debase yourself.”
“My intentions have not changed, and I am no more corrupt than I ever was,” Castiel replies. “But perhaps your perception has of me has been altered.”
He expects the furor that follows, and he doesn’t fight the other angels as they set upon him. Castiel would like to be with Dean again, but he knows that his brethren will not be satisfied unless they exact their pound of flesh for what they view as his betrayal.
The other angels rip at his grace, tearing it from him piece by piece, and Castiel screams in pain. This is not how he had wanted to fall, but Castiel has known that this outcome is inevitable for some time now.
And though Castiel never leaves the ground, he feels as though he is falling, as though he is hurtling down from heaven—although heaven is a more of a metaphysical plane, not an actual location.
He screams again as they tear at him, causing as much pain as possible as they exile him from their ranks.
His brethren probably view it as a fate worse than death, but Castiel does not. He has been torn between his duty in heaven and Dean for some time now, and while he would have preferred to choose to fall, Castiel has been expecting this outcome.
All of his brothers and sisters who had fought with him these last years have now turned on him. Only Balthazar is absent, and Castiel is grateful for that small favor. He doesn’t know what his brethren would have done to Dean had he been present.
When they have finished, when not a shred of Castiel’s grace remains, they disappear one by one, leaving Castiel broken and bleeding on the ground.
Castiel coughs, tasting blood and bile, and tries to sit up. Every muscle in his body aches, and there is no relief in sight.
He is human now, and he will have to accept human limitations. Castiel cannot say that he’s happy about it, but he’s grateful to be alive.
“I could have told you this would happen,” Balthazar says, appearing by Castiel’s side. “You never did do things by half, Cas.”
Castiel manages a smile. “Can you blame me?”
“Not in the least.” Balthazar grips Castiel’s shoulder. “Hold tight. I think this will be easier.”
They are in Bobby’s spare room in the next moment, and Balthazar shouts, “I have your boyfriend.”
By the time Dean thunders up the stairs, Balthazar has Castiel in bed. “What the fuck?” Dean demands.
“I would suggest getting your friends to put up wards against angels,” Balthazar replies. “I’ve done as much as I can.”
“Why can’t you heal him?” Dean demands.
Balthazar shakes his head. “I’ve stuck my neck out far enough as it is.”
“Thank you, Balthazar,” Castiel manages.
Balthazar glances at Dean and says, “I hope he’s worth it.”
And then he’s gone, and Castiel knows that he won’t see his friend again.
“Cas, what the fuck?” Dean demands.
“Tell Sam and Bobby to put up the wards against angels,” Castiel replies, his eyes falling shut. “Please, Dean.”
“Yeah, okay, I’ll do that. I’ll be right back,” Dean promises.
Castiel relaxes back onto the bed and lets the darkness take him.
~~~~~
Castiel wakes slowly, still finding it a singularly strange sensation. He imagines that he’ll get used to being unaware of the passage of time eventually, once he’s had more experience with such things.
He realizes immediately that someone has undressed him, and he’s wearing only his boxers, which is stranger yet. Castiel has never had someone undress him without his knowledge or acquiescence before. The wound on his thigh has been dressed as well, and Castiel can see the white gauze wrapped around his leg, just under the hem of his boxers.
Castiel tries to push himself into a sitting position, but he falls back with a groan. Every inch of his body hurts, and Castiel isn’t used to this kind of pain. In the past, he would have healed himself with a thought. Now, he will have to allow his injuries to heal at a normal pace.
An unfortunate side effect of being human, Castiel thinks, but he has no choice.
Castiel had hoped to have a choice, but he will accept his circumstances. Castiel had known there was a chance of such a fate from the moment he had first chosen to have sex with Dean.
“Hey,” Dean says, entering the room. “We’ve got the wards up, so you should be safe.”
“I will check them in a moment,” Castiel replies. “I just need to get up.”
“Sore?”
“I don’t think I can move,” Castiel admits.
Dean sits on the side of the bed. “Yeah, I’ve been there. You’ll feel better when you get moving.”
Castiel gives Dean a dubious look. “I don’t believe you.”
Dean laughs. “Fair enough. Come on. You probably need the bathroom and food anyway.”
Now that Dean has mentioned it, Castiel realizes that his stomach is empty and his bladder is full. He understands the general nature of a body’s needs, but this is the first time he has experienced this particular urge.
Dean helps Castiel out of bed, supporting most of Castiel’s weight as they make their slow way toward the bathroom. “Wash your hands,” Dean orders at the door. “And yell if you need help. I’ll go grab something a little more comfortable for you to wear.”
Castiel is grateful that he’s made a study of humanity; he knows the basic mechanics, and he manages to get through the ordeal with minimal trouble. Dean pokes his head into the bathroom, holding out a pile of clothing. “I’ve got a pair of sweats and a t-shirt here. The sweats should fit over the bandage on your leg.”
“Thank you.” Castiel dresses as Dean watches from the doorway. “Are these yours?”
“Mine and Bobby’s,” Dean replies. “We’ll work on getting you some other clothing.”
“I don’t think I will need it any time soon,” Castiel responds. “Must I go down the stairs?”
“Yeah. Come on. You’ll be fine once you get going.” Dean throws an arm around Castiel’s waist and helps him down the stairs.
Castiel moves slowly, uncertainly. He has inhabited this vessel for a relatively long time now, but this body is his in a way it had not been before. He feels every pain, every wound, and every bruise anew.
“They really did a number on you, didn’t they?” Dean asks sympathetically as they make their slow way down the stairs.
“I betrayed them,” Castiel responds simply. “And they were understandably angry.”
Dean frowns. “You betrayed them? You just killed Raphael! You won.”
“Dean,” Castiel says gently. “My allegiance is divided. I knew what the possible consequences would be when I embarked on a relationship with you.”
Dean stops. “Wait. This was because of me?”
“No, this was because I made a choice,” Castiel says. To change the subject, Castiel says, “I’m really hungry.”
Dean gives Castiel a sharp look, like he knows what Castiel is trying to do, but he allows it. “Bobby should have something ready by now.”
Castiel limps into the kitchen with Dean’s support, and he’s warmed by Sam and Bobby’s welcomes.
“Good to see you on your feet,” Sam says, handing Castiel a bowl of something he can’t easily identify.
The food smells wonderful, though, so Castiel sits down and digs in, eating slowly only because he cannot move quickly, even to fill his empty stomach.
“You want to tell us why the hell we had to put up the anti-angel wards?” Bobby asks.
Castiel has his mouth full, so he looks to Dean to answer the question.
Dean sighs. “Cas’ friends took exception to his attachment to humans.”
Sam raised his eyebrows. “Humans in general, or one human in particular?”
Dean glances at Cas, and then admits. “Okay, his attachment to me. We’re, you know, together.”
Castiel takes another bite to prevent having to answer further questions.
Sam grins. “Nice of you to finally come clean, Dean.”
“You knew?” Dean asks.
Sam and Bobby wear identical smirks. “Yeah, Dean,” Bobby says. “We knew. The walls in this place aren’t all that thick.”
Dean blushes, which Castiel finds fascinating. Castiel is not embarrassed, but he knows that there are some aspects of being human that will probably remain incomprehensible.
“Yeah, well,” Dean mutters. “Apparently, it’s against the rules, although I still don’t get why.”
Castiel sighs. “I am—I was an angel of the Lord, and we cannot afford to have divided loyalties. My brethren know that I cannot be trusted to choose things of heaven over the things of earth.”
He closes his eyes, suddenly exhausted, the reality of his situation setting in. Castiel has heard the term “heavy heart,” but he hasn’t understood what it truly meant until now.
“Okay, back to bed with you,” Dean says, breaking into Castiel’s thoughts.
Castiel winces at the thought of climbing the stairs, and as though reading his mind, Sam suggests, “Why don’t you put Cas on the couch down here? He probably shouldn’t climb the stairs on that leg any more than he has to.”
“Good idea, Sammy,” Dean replies. “Come on, Cas.”
Castiel allows himself to be led into the study, and Dean helps him stretch out. “Hold tight,” Dean advises. “I’ll be right back.”
Dean returns a few moments later with a glass of water and a couple of pills. “Take these. They’ll help with the pain.”
“Thank you,” Castiel says quietly.
“Yeah.” Dean cups the side of Castiel’s face with a warm, gentle hand. “Get some rest, Cas. We’ll talk more later.”
Castiel isn’t looking forward to that conversation, and he realizes that sleep can be a refuge.
He’ll take whatever refuge he can get.
~~~~~
When Castiel wakes again, the house is dark and silent, and Castiel shifts on the couch. He doesn’t ache quite as much, and he’s grateful for that small mercy.
“Cas?”
Dean’s voice comes from the floor next to the couch, and Castiel rolls a bit. Dean lies on a pallet of blankets next to the couch, his hands behind his head. Castiel can’t make out Dean’s expression in the darkness, but there’s something comforting in that. Castiel feels curiously free.
“Yes?”
“You didn’t tell me what could happen if we started fucking,” Dean says bluntly. “You never told me how dangerous it was.”
“It was my decision,” Castiel replies softly.
Dean sits up in one fluid motion, and Castiel can see the anger and distress now that Dean’s face is mere inches away. “There are two of us in this relationship, Cas.”
Castiel blinks. “Dean, you’re worth it.”
Dean lets out a huff of air as though he’s just been punched in the stomach. “Dammit, you can’t say stuff like that.”
“Why not?” Castiel asks, bewildered. “It’s true. Do you not want me here? If you—” Castiel hears the break in his own voice, and it surprises him, as does the emotion that rises up to choke him.
If Dean doesn’t want him, Castiel doesn’t know what he’ll do. He has nowhere else to go.
“No,” Dean says immediately. “No, I want you here. I just didn’t want you to fall because of me.”
“I have no regrets,” Castiel replies.
Dean takes Castiel’s face between his hands and kisses him, slow and sweet. Castiel tastes whiskey, overlaid with mint, as Dean’s tongue meets his own. Castiel lets Dean set the pace, relaxing into Dean’s touch, grateful that he can cede control to someone else for now.
When Dean pulls back, he runs a hand through Castiel’s hair. “Your asshole relatives really did a number on you,” he murmurs, leaning in for another kiss.
“What is the saying? That which does not kill us makes us stronger?” Castiel thinks that if that’s true, he will have a different kind of strength than he did as an angel, at least once he gets used to being human.
Until then, Castiel thinks that he will hold onto Dean. Dean has held Castiel together before, and Castiel trusts him to do so again.
Dean shakes his head and chuckles. “Yeah, I guess they do say that. I haven’t decided whether they’re right yet, but I’m not sorry to be getting more of you.”
And then he kisses Castiel again, keeping a languid, easy pace, and Castiel thinks that this isn’t the worst outcome he’d envisioned.
The choice to fall or not may have been taken from him, but Castiel has no regrets. He’s alive and with Dean. Castiel can be grateful for that much.