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The Long and Winding Road the 2nd

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Castiel had always been a good son. A good soldier. Serving his father and his home, god and heaven. Watching over the humans in His name. Carrying out every order. Even the less pleasant ones. Sodom, Gomorrah, Orono just to name a few. Although he had only accompanied those missions as one of many he had still approved them as they were carrying out His will. The ends always justified the means.


Or so he had always thought. But God himself had been gone since the sinfall of humanity. Castiel had never served Him, but the cruel whim of his brethren. He had done terrible things under their order, whithout ever giving it a second thought, he had hurt and faught for them,... had killed for them.

Until recently he had thought himself in the right to do whatever necessary, no matter the cost, no matter the cruelity, to carry out heaven’s will.

Back then he would have followed their will to the end of the world, litteraly. And he nearly did. If it hadn’t been for the Winchesters, who showed him free will. If it hadn’t been for Dean, who had taught him to stand up for the right things, no matter how hard that might be.

And he had. Or at least he had tried. When Raphael had announced the apocalypse he had stood up and said No. And others had followed him standing by his side, fighting for free will. None of them had known what it even meant. But they had followed him anyway, against Raphael. They had trusted him to be their leader. Him, the only angel to understand free will.


But now he noticed that he hadn’t understood it either. He had fought for it. But had it been the right way? A civil war in heaven? An alliance with the King of hell? Betraying his friends? Even if it had been the safest for them? Destroying Sam’s wall, to distract his friends?

No. He noticed.


But where had he gone wrong? What choice had been the wrong? What should he had done better? What would he do better, if given a second chance? What would have been the right way?

He tried to chase those thoughts away. They wouldn’t be of much use anyway. Because he had started a civil war. He had worked with the king of hell. He had betrayed his friends. He had destroyed Sam’s wall. He had absorbed the soul of purgatory and he had killed- no slaughtered- more than half of heaven’s angels. All who hadn’t been with him. Raphael’s closest followers, angels who just followed our of fear and even those who had chosen no side at all. He had killed them all.


He had tried so hard to do the right thing, but had failed. And now he was literally knee-deep in the blood of his siblings. Kneeling in the middle of his favorite heaven surrounded by the corpses of his brothers and sisters. He asked himself:

What had I become? What am I? I am no soldier of god. No soldier of heaven. No protector of Earth or humanity (as even those had suffered under him). No protector of heaven. No protector of free will.

He was a kinslayer. A monster… a god. And as a such he asked himself, was there still hope to right my sins?

What would I do, if given a second chance?

The thought crossed his mind again, but this time he knew what to do. He spread his wings and took flight with one mighty flap.





His first stop was Bobby’s house. It was nighttime, meaning that all occupants of the house were asleep, just as expected. Bobby was sleeping over a few books he had been reading. Sam on the couch with a book himself on his chest while Dean slept at the desk in the kitchen several empty bottles in front of him and one still in his right hand.

Cas scowled at the scene before him. Those were his friends and they were hurt because of his mistakes. ‘Cause no matter how good his intention had been, he now knew he had still wronged so many. Humanity. His Brethren. His followers as well as rivals. And worst of all, his friends. His family. Sam and Dean and Bobby.

He lied his hand on Dean’s shoulder and whispered “I’ll right my wrongs, Dean. I promise.” He then went off to search the house for the things he needed.


He took one of their duffle bags and put in some holy oil, ruby’s knife and recipe for the Colt’s bullets. Finding the last was rather hard, but he did eventually, near dawn. 

Cas was ready to take of when he heard a groan next to him.


The hunter opened his eyes but squeezed them shut again when greeted by a haaedache.


"Damm head." Dean muttered to himself stumbling over to the fridge for a beer. Yet the Winchester hadn’t noticed  his angelic friend standing at his side watching with pitty and regret.

Dean pulled out a beer and opened it with practiced ease, letting the cap drop to the floor, where more of it’s kind had been abandoned earlier this week.


"Hello, Dean." Castiel greeted with his usual monotonous voice, making his presence known to the human.

He in turn, faced him imediately. Tired eyes, filled with anger and despair stareing directly into his, ocean blue one's.

"What the fuck do you want!?" The hunter asked, sluring a bit at the due to the alkohol he had been drinking massively in the past few month.


"I now know that I made mistakes, Dean. I just wanted you to know I’m sorry for what I did, before I go." He explained already picking up the duffle bag, to take off.


The hunter’s features imediately softened. "Wait, Cas." The Righteous man cried out nearly panicing, but grapping his friend’s trench coat in time anyway.

"Where are you going?" He asked, afraid- although he wouldn’t admit it out loud- to lose his friend again. Yes, he had turned on them. He had endangered Lisa and Ben and Sam and Bobby. He had chose a demon’s side over theirs, but in this very moment he had the hope- although he had no idea were it had come from- that if given enough time Cas could find back to the angelic, but also so human, friend they had come used to calling family. This adorable trench coated angel they had learned to love.

Or more important, the angel that pulled him out of hell. The angel he had learned to love.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to decide wheter to kiss the angel and ruin their friendship or not. In the end the part of his brain that was still half drunk won and he graped the collar of the tan coat pulling his friend close and only seconds later their lips colided.


He regreted it imediately, when Cas's eyes widened in suprise. But Castiel,  angel of the Lord (a Virgin! ), didn’t return the kiss. 

Or at least not for the frst seconds he needed to recovered from the shock.

"Oh, my- oh, my god! I- I- I'm- sorry Cas- I didn't -didn’t meant t-to- I didn't think- I-I-" Dean had already pulled away trying to explain his stupidity, when Cas sudendly pressed his lips on Dean's soft ones, silenting the hunter effectively.

This time it was Dean moanining wideeyed, from suprise into the kiss. One hand already in the angel's messy hair, the other trying to put the beer, he had opened earlier, aside.

The second hand folowed the first, as soon as the beer had been put aside, graping a fist ful of dark messy hair, while trying to pull his best friend even closer.


He groaned in pleasant suprise when Castiel pulled him closer by his ass. His right hand abandoned Cas's hair in favor of tracing his features, wandering from his face to his hip, earning a happy moan from the angel when slapping his rear.

Dean made a happily suprised moan himself when he was lifted of the floor. And pressed even more into his angel by the wall his back colided with.


The black hair pulled away from Dean's lips, giving him time to get some air, the hunter had nearly forgotten he needed, and continued with kissing his neck instead.

He leaned his head back against the wall, trying to catch his breath between exited noises. By now he could feel his pants tighten around his cock, while feeling the growing bump of his opposite rub against it, despite the multiple layers of cloth between them.


A deep moan escaped Dean’s mouth when Cas's lips colided with his collar bone. "Cas...Cas...upstairs...bed room." He breathed between loud moans from both, him and Cas, remembering that just next door his brother and his adoptive father were still asleep. 


And considering that hunters tend to have a lighter sleep they wouldn’t be for much longer, if he hand cas kept getting louder.


 One flap of wings later both men were an floor higher, in the same position as before, but now moanining even louder. And despite the flight Dean couldn’t feel the nausea that tendend to come along whenever going by angel taxi. 

With an gesture of his hand Cas locked the room and then strange couple freed themselves from their various layers of clothes before they sank into the throes of fiery angelic passion.







"I'll fix everything, Dean. I promise." He said placing a resuring hand on the sleeping hunter's left shoulder, covering the mark he once had left behind.


He would love to stay, especially now. But he knew, tha Dean would never be happy if didn’t fix this.

It didn’t matter if Dean would be able to forgive him or not.

Sam would sufer, from hell's memories, no matter what, and Dean would suffer with him.


And now more than ever he couldn’t bear the thought of either brother hurting because of him. Most of all he couldn’t watch Dean in pain, even if only emotional one.


He placed one last kiss on Dean’s temple before he shouldered the bag and took flight.




He visited different place all around the World collecting ingredients for various spells, hex bags and sigils he had learned over the last year. Partly from Crowley and partly from warding himself and his people off if Raphael or at least off of his eyes and ears. It was sunset when he had finally gathered everything needed.

He flew back to Bobby’s once more to look at his friends, his family. Then he took of.


A few minutes later, but years prior he landed in the year 2006, what meant he had five years left before anybody would even notice anything. And five hours left before John Winchester would make the deal with the demon.




He was standing in the corner of Dean’s room, invisible to the humans’ eyes, watching the two brother talk. Both looked incredibly young and full of life not yet worn out from the apocalypse.

He had spent the earlier five hours with planning and preparing his incoming deeds.

He needed to stop the demon’s plan.

This he could only accomplish by keeping all tree Winchesters alive, to ensure none would make a deal for the other, to keep the righteous man out of hell. And most importantly to keep him from breaking the first seal.

Beside that the gates of hell mustn’t be opened. And the release of Lilith had to be stopped with all means.

To do so he would have to kill Azazel, otherwise the demon would find only find other ways to free her and set of the apocalypse.

And if not hell, heaven would find a way. Meaning that Castiel had to act as subtle as possible and change only little details, enough to prevent the apocalypse but not enough to wake heaven’s suspicion. The host had to believe that everything was happening according to plan and no angel or demon could ever find out what he was.

He had thought about how exactly he’d do that and had planed to ward himself off from all supernatural senses, as soon has his deeds at the hospital were done and the Winchesters were save for the time being. And for exactly that he had added a few items for protection to the duffle bag of the oldest Winchester, sitting on his bed. He watched same Winchester enter the room. He silent listened to the oldest and youngest argument, which was, judging from Dean’s behavior, hardly a rarity.


Sam soon walked out of the door, obviously, even for him, mad at his Dad. The later left shortly afterwards. Cas too flew out of the room after sending Dean into a restful slumber.




“Demons. They must have noticed something is wrong.” And then he was gone.

Well, at least partly. He was still there theoretically but from the human point of view he vanished completely.

He watched the Winchesters fill out of the room and was about to leave himself to prevent any supernatural being (mostly Dean’s reaper, incoming demons now, too) from seeing or even worse sensing him before he had the opportunity to set up any wards.


But just then the reaper appeared directly in front of him. Tessa.




He didn’t knew her well, but well enough to know her to have a good and loyal heart.


“Hello, Tessa.” He greeted. “Oh, awesome you know my name.” She was unimpressed, well mostly. “So who exactly do you think you are, to mess with the natural order?” She asked, crossing her arms un anoyance. “They call me Cas.” He stated.

“Well that is rather undescriptive. What I actually would like to know is: What are you?” she took a slight step forward to get a better look at his physical body, which definitely wasn’t his own. Well-built and handsome, but rather small with black hair and blue eyes, dressed in suit and trench coat. All in all good looking but not what interested her.

That what she was looking for was lying behind the facet of a human body, borrowed or not. She took a glance at the spot  where a human’s soul, the fragments of a demon’s or the grace of an angel would be.

Neither was the case, where the shining and nearly blending light of an angels grace or a human’s soul should be was empty.

No, not empty. Deep black ink, she noticed. She could still recognize a faint shine of a soul (or grace, although she herself thought it rather unlikely. For the simplest reason that those idiots haven’t left heaven for about two thousand years. Why would they now?) drowning in a pitch-black abyss quite similar to a demon’s smoke except for it to be some kind of liquid. She was shocked to say the least. The Black ocean inside her opposite was erupting with hundreds of waves every now and then, each bigger than the last. And despite neither form nor color she couldn’t stop thinking of them as abominations.

“What are you?” she heard herself say. “Are you some kind of high-leveled demon or something like that?” she asked more precise when the might-be-a-demon remained silent. He cocked his head to the side and looked at her with an indifferent bird-look, before moving.

She automatically took a step back for each he made towards her until she ran out of space with the wall in her back. Their bodies were now nearly touching and although she earlier had thought of him as rather small he was now looming over her. And even though she would never admit it aloud she was scared when it spoke again.

“Yes, something like that.” It whispered it in her ear. It took her a while to put it in context to her earlier question but in the end she managed. And when the demon leaned back again it had one of death’s scythes in his now raised hand “I also am one of the few people who have one of these.” He said twisting it in his hand. “A...old business partner gave it to me.” He said referring to the early days of his partnership with Crowley.


(The demon had tried to receive information of purgatory’s whereabouts by torturing reapers. Simultaneously he had tried to teach Castiel some interrogation and torturing methods. Which had been hard for both of them considering the angel’s stern behavior. But he had learned eventually and had been quite good at it, according to Crowley.)

“What do you want? Why are you interfering with the natural order?!” she asked. And although her voice was steadier than before, they both new she was terrified down to her core.

“It’s simple” he made a step back to give her a bit more space “I’m not interfering. The natural order of death and life involves the death by natural, magical or supernatural cause but can be avoided by magical or unnatural means, such as Deals. And Dean Winchester’s life has been saved by a such, made by his father with me. Therefore the resurrection of the Winchester is no interference in your work.” She answered something (probably arguing that deals weren’t part of the natural order), but he ignored her in favor of listening to the angel radio.


The angels themselves rarely ever spoke back in this time. But still there had never been silence, too. But the less angels spoke the louder prayer were heard. Castiel himself had learned a long time ago how to ignore the desperate pleads and prayers.

And now just as always they were buzzing in his head, but there was a single one that was louder than all the others. More desperate than all the others and more sincere than he had ever heard a prayer be.


Save Dean Winchester


It was Sam and knowing the brothers, they plus their father were likely to have gotten themselves in another demon fight or something like that.

“We’re done.” He told Tessa and took of.