Chapter Text
Castiel flew to Singer Salvage Yard. He couldn't leave things the way they were after Sam, Dean, and Bobby had fled Ellsworth's house, leaving Castiel in that ring of holy fire. Castiel had told them to run so they wouldn't be caught in the maelstrom of demons quickly descending, but there had been something in Dean's expression right before he ducked out that door that left a piece of Castiel feeling shattered. He needed to explain, needed to repair their trust…
…They'd attempted to ward the house against angels—against him. Stark red sigils stood out in every single window. It didn't matter that they'd gotten some of it wrong and it was useless, the action still stung, more than them trapping Castiel in that ring of holy fire. Because this here meant they had fully and completely deemed him an enemy. A monster to ward against. Despite everything they had been through together.
Still, rather than turn around, Castiel landed silently in the living room. Dean was asleep on the sofa, but he stirred, perhaps sensing the intrusive presence. He squinted at the warded windows first, and rubbed at his eyes groggily. Then he finally noticed Castiel. Dean surged upright in alarm.
"Hello, Dean," Castiel greeted gravely.
"How'd you get in here?" the hunter asked harshly.
"The angel-proofing Bobby put up on the house…" It hurt to say the words, though no emotion bled into his tone. "He got a few things wrong."
Dean shot a look at the windows. "Well, it's too bad we got to angel-proof in the first place, isn't it?" he said, slowly getting to his feet.
Again, that hurt, because Castiel didn't think he'd done anything so heinous as to deserve that.
"Why are you here?" Dean demanded.
Castiel moved forward desperately. "I want you to understand."
Dean's face twisted in a scowl. "Oh, believe me, I get it. Blah, blah, Raphael, right?"
Castiel stared at him incredulously. He didn't understand; how could Dean not see that Raphael winning meant that the archangel would restart the Apocalypse? All of their efforts and sacrifices to put Lucifer back in the Cage would be for naught if the Devil and Michael were released again. Dean and Sam would be hounded to the ends of the earth as the true vessels, and the world would be destroyed in their wake.
"I'm doing this for you, Dean," he said fervently. "I'm doing this because of you."
Dean snorted. "Because of me." He reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose and turned away. "You got to be kidding me."
Castiel struggled to find the right words. "You're the one who taught me that freedom and free will—"
"You're a freakin' child, you know that?" Dean snapped, whirling back to glare at him. "Just because you can do what you want doesn't mean that you get to do whatever you want!"
Castiel bristled at the hunter's rebuke. "I know what I'm doing, Dean."
Dean's expression didn't change. "I'm not gonna logic you, okay? I'm saying don't, just 'cause."
Castiel shook his head in exasperation.
"I'm asking you not to," Dean continued sharply. "That's it."
Castiel frowned. "I don't understand."
"Look, next to Sam, you and Bobby are the closest things I have to family—that you are like a brother to me."
Castiel gazed at Dean in open astonishment. Those words—family, brother—were not used lightly by Dean Winchester. And yet, Dean had trapped Castiel in holy fire, had immediately tried to repel him from this house with sigils. How could that possibly equate to Castiel being like family?
"So, if I'm asking you not to do something," Dean went on. "You got to trust me, man." He gave Castiel a hard look, a parental look, as though Dean knew best. He always thought he knew best. And that grated.
Castiel gazed back soberly. "Or what?"
Dean quirked a confused brow at him, before his expression shifted to cooly neutral. "Or I'll have to do what I have to do to stop you," he said levelly.
Castiel bristled. "You can't, Dean. You're just a man. I'm an angel."
Dean cocked his head. "I don't know. I've taken some pretty big fish."
So, that was that. Castiel looked away. He'd come hoping for understanding, for support. He knew the road he walked was dangerous, deadly, even, but he'd hoped he could count on the Winchesters, on his friends, to help keep him from failing.
"I'm sorry, Dean," he said sadly, no longer able to meet the hunter's gaze.
Dean was silent for a beat. "Well, I'm sorry, too, then."
Castiel didn't need to hear more to understand the finality in Dean's tone. He spread his wings and leaped.
Castiel flew to a park, a tranquil, isolated garden currently covered in a light dusting of snow. He sat on a bench and bowed his head. And he prayed.
Castiel had not offered up words to his father since Joshua had told the Winchesters that God didn't care, about the world, about any of them. He had left, leaving the angels to fend for themselves. That was why they were in this position, this civil war. God had granted them free will, but Raphael would squash it all if he won.
And so Castiel prayed more fervently than he had done in years, even when he'd been a devout soldier. He poured his heart out, explaining everything that had happened in Heaven since his return, of Raphael's ultimatum, Crowley's proposition; Castiel even confessed his sins of arrogance. In that quiet, secluded park, he said everything he had wanted to tell Dean.
"That's why I'm asking you, Father. One last time. Am I doing the right thing? Am I on the right path? You have to tell me. You have to give me…a sign. Give me a sign. Because if you don't…I'm gonna ju— I'm gonna do whatever I… Whatever I must."
Castiel sat in that park for a long time—hours—waiting for a sign from his father. The sun went down, and still there was nothing but silence. The stars, which used to hold such comfort, were now cold and distant, as if they, too, had turned their backs on him.
Finally Castiel rose, grim resolve settling heavily upon his shoulders like an iron yoke. He had chosen this path, and he would see it through, because he couldn't see another way. Even if this road would likely end in disaster. But that was the peril of free will, wasn't it? The potential to be wrong, to make a mistake.
Freedom truly was a length of rope. And God's silence said more clearly than anything else that he was satisfied to sit back and watch people hang themselves with it.
A high-pitched ringing filled Castiel's head, a call from Balthazar on a private channel. His chest constricted; at least there was still one friend he had in this world.
He flew to their rendezvous point deep in the Black Hills Forest where Balthazar was already waiting, pacing in agitation. The other angel looked Castiel up and down when he appeared.
"What happened with the Winchesters?"
Castiel's throat tightened with regret. "They know everything. They…figured out I'd been spying on them."
Balthazar snorted. "I could have told you that'd work out poorly. Oh wait, I did." He took in Castiel's despondent posture and sighed. "I gather they didn't approve," he said more gently, though still with a wry bite.
"No. They wouldn't even let me explain."
It baffled him, because Dean said they were like brothers, but he wouldn't have treated Sam this way, would have at least heard the younger Winchester out. So why did Castiel, if he was like family too, warrant only accusations and unforgiving glares?
Dean had also told him to stop, to give up his plan with the Purgatory souls just because Dean said to. As if Castiel was merely a hammer for the Winchesters to wield at their will. Which was more or less how they had been treating him for the past year. And Castiel was ashamed to say that he did let pride and indignation get the better of him in that moment. Thus, any chance at reconciliation he had hoped to forge had crumbled into chaff.
"Typical Winchesters," Balthazar commented. "They're so self-absorbed, they can't see anything other than their own backsides."
"They accused me of bringing Sam back soulless on purpose," Castiel admitted, because that had hurt too. He would never… Yet he had; unintentionally or not, his gross oversight had caused the younger Winchester to walk around soulless for a year, and by then Sam's soul had been so traumatized by its time in Hell, that taking it back had been a serious risk. Death's charity had cleaned up Castiel's grievous mistake before it could hang him. Or perhaps the Winchesters' mistrust and repulsion were the consequences Castiel was reaping for it.
Balthazar let out a sound of derision. "You should have left that twat in the Cage."
Castiel narrowed his eyes at his brother. Sometimes he honestly couldn't tell whether Balthazar was jesting or not when he spoke in such a way about the Winchesters. They hadn't gotten off to a good start when they first met, after all. And even though they were at odds now, Castiel still cared for Sam and Dean.
The other angel rolled his eyes at Castiel's reprimanding glare. "So what do you want to do, Cas? Now that the cat's out of the bag, are we moving forward or not?"
Castiel squinted, having no idea how a captured cat had anything to do with this…
He still didn't know if this was the right path. But God hadn't given him a sign, and he wished he could know for certain whether that was confirmation of his choices and not just that his father simply didn't care. He feared it was the latter.
"We continue with the plan," he said. "Nothing's changed."
He pulled out a soft, leather-bound journal from his coat. After his fruitless talk with Dean, Castiel had slipped into Bobby's study and taken it, as the contents contained someone's detailed ramblings about an author named H.P. Lovecraft, who had apparently entertained more than a passing fascination with opening doorways to other dimensions.
Balthazar's voice dropped to a low tone. "Even if this is a kamikaze mission?"
Castiel nodded gravely. "It's the only way, Balthazar; we're losing the war."
The other angel scoffed and turned away in a flare of frustration. "Why are you still so determined to protect the very humans who have now turned on you?"
Castiel's heart clenched painfully. "Because," he said softly, "not that long ago, I thought we were family." Even before Dean had said the conflicting words, Castiel had held the Winchester brothers in that regard. And if he'd learned one thing from them, you never turned your back on family. Even if they didn't feel the same.
"We're brothers, Cas. Let's just leave," Balthazar said suddenly.
"Leave?" he repeated dubiously.
Balthazar nodded. "You and me, enjoying a life of decadence. I'll show you all the great spots."
Castiel leveled a dry look at him. "Raphael will immediately start the Apocalypse again and destroy everything."
"I've got some safe houses that will survive even that." Balthazar stepped forward, gaze earnest. "Come on, Cas, we can just go. Live out the rest of eternity doing whatever we want. Free will and all that."
Castiel felt his heart fracture. He did not blame Balthazar for wanting to leave; the angel had done so once already, letting Castiel believe he'd died. But given that the Winchesters had just turned their backs on him, the abandonment stung. And for a very brief moment, Castiel wondered if it all was worth it, if maybe he should go with his brother. Balthazar, at least, was loyal and understanding, like real family should be.
"Just because you can do what you want doesn't mean that you get to do whatever you want!"
Dean had meant Castiel's plan to harvest the souls of Purgatory, but Castiel knew that what it really meant was he was still bound by responsibility and duty. And he couldn't just turn his back on that.
Castiel's shoulders sagged. "I understand. This was never your fight. You can go, Balthazar. I really do wish you the best."
Balthazar's eyes tightened with emotion, and after a long moment he sighed heavily. "Bloody hell, Cas, if you're staying, so am I." He spread out an arm to encompass the two of them. "Who else is gonna keep you from falling off the ledge?"
Castiel allowed himself a small smile, his morale renewed. He reached out to clasp his brother's forearm. "That's why I know this will work."
Balthazar shook his head, not seeming as convinced, but at least he was choosing to stand by Castiel when no one else was.
The other angel suddenly straightened, and a scowl swept across his face. "I'm being summoned by the Winchesters."
Castiel felt a pang of regret once more. Though it'd been exasperating when the Winchesters constantly called him for help, heedless that he might be in the middle of a battle, the knowledge that they would never call him again made his heart ache.
Castiel gave Balthazar a rueful look. "They might need help."
"I should smite them where they stand."
"Please don't."
Balthazar grumbled under his breath. "Fine." He crossed his finger over his heart in a gesture Castiel didn't understand, then pointed at him sharply. "You have work to do. I'll deal with the hairless apes."
Castiel nodded somberly. With the journal in hand, he spread his wings and took flight. He needed to track down information on how to open a portal to another dimension.
Balthazar had half a mind to level Singer Salvage Yard. Or, better yet, he could throw those two whining Winchesters into an alternate reality again. They'd particularly hated that.
Granted, Balthazar had known from the start that Castiel trying to keep his plans secret would end poorly. For one thing, Cas was a terrible liar. Balthazar had sussed out his intentions early on, and, he had to admit, had almost been as livid as the Winchesters apparently were. But what Cas lacked in subterfuge, he made up for in force of personality. Balthazar had none of the other angel's passion for defending humanity, and yet he still found himself devoted to the cause. Or, more accurately, devoted to his brother.
And he hated to see him hurting.
Balthazar landed outside the salvage garage on the hood of one of the junker cars with a static pop that blew all the lights out.
"I'm sorry boys, do I look like a man-servant to you?" he immediately snipped. The Winchesters exchanged a look. "No?" he prodded at their silence. "No? Then quit ringing for me, please."
"This is important, Balthazar," Dean snapped.
"As you always think it is with you."
"Crowley's alive," Sam spoke up.
And here it started.
"Well, you've been scooped," Balthazar replied, hopping off the car. "Cas already told me."
"Well, did Cas tell you that he is Crowley's butt-buddy, you smug little dick?" Dean said with a hint of a triumphant smirk.
Balthazar narrowed his eyes.
"Handshake deal," Sam added, misinterpreting his silence for surprise. "Go halfsies on all the souls of Purgatory. He fill you in on that?"
"Of course he did," Balthazar retorted. "Because unlike you, I understand what's at stake."
"You've got to be friggin' kidding…" Dean started, throwing his arms out in growing aggravation. "Popping Purgatory is only going to make things worse!"
"Worse than the Apocalypse 2.0? Because I assure you, if you thought the first one was bad, Raphael now has plans to decimate all of the earth and start Paradise over from scratch."
Dean's jaw tightened, but he maintained his furious glare.
"Purgatory is not the answer," Sam stepped in. "Working with Crowley is not the answer!"
"I don't see you two mooks offering up an alternative," Balthazar snapped. "Because, oh yeah, you blokes can't be bothered to look past your own problems."
"Look," Dean interrupted sharply. "Crowley and Cas took two people who are very important to me."
If there had been any light fixtures still intact, they would have exploded from the waves of umbrage radiating off Balthazar. The Winchesters may not have liked the Purgatory plan and working with Crowley—who did?—but accusing Cas of intentionally bringing back Sasquatch without a soul, and now of kidnapping…there was no excuse for that. No way would Castiel have had a part in this abduction, and dammit, if he found out about it, he was going to get distracted, which they could not afford right now.
"And I care about this because?" Balthazar said blithely.
A muscle in Dean's jaw ticked. "Because maybe there is a shred of decency underneath this- this snarky crap."
Balthazar rolled his eyes, unimpressed with the human's tact with diplomacy.
"They're innocent people and I'm asking for your help."
Well, wasn't that a first. The hairless ape sounded genuinely distressed by the whole thing, too.
"Hm, I see," Balthazar said, nodding thoughtfully. "Too bad you couldn't give Cas the same consideration."
He flapped his wings and took off. If he'd stayed any longer, he ran the risk of going through with his threat to smite those two, which would also displease Castiel. But unlike the other angel, Balthazar was not burdened by a misplaced sense of loyalty. Let the selfish bastards get out of their own mess.