Ok, so, this is the first chapter of a new one. Kind of came at me out of nowhere, so I typed it out in kind of a frenzy.

As always, encouragement is appreciated. I hope you guys like it.

Happy Endings Are Like That.

Castiel had been human for awhile.

God had granted him his wings back after Lucifer was defeated, and Castiel was grateful. Human life was difficult and fleeting. But during the war with Raphael, Castiel found himself once again de-Graced. One of Raphael's many ill-gotten weapons was employed by an ancient spell that allows you to bless a weapon of your choosing to be angel-proof. Castiel did not have any way of knowing about this spell, and so when his brother came at him with a weapon unlike the traditional silver angel-knife, he was not as concerned for his life as he should have been.

Raphael injured Castiel severely, robbing him of his Grace and nearly fatally wounding him. The blue-eyed angel crashed to the floor of the Winchesters' motel room in a bloody mess, his arms wrapped around himself, choking on his own blood. For his own dignity, he bit back any sound of pain threatening to escape his lips - the vein in his temple bulged at the effort. Dean and Sam appreciated the valor in that. Especially since they were not particularly confident in their ability to put him back together, and were afraid that this show of bravery may be his last.

But alas, Heaven's nerdiest angel surprised them again.

Cas was slowly nursed back to health by the weathered remains of Team Free Will and thus, destined to live out the rest of his life as a mortal.

Now he'd been human for awhile.

Hunting with the Winchesters and researching the Mother of All with Bobby felt like a good change, a reasonable way to spend his life and use his skills. It didn't make him happy, per se, but it made him feel busy and useful. Life was good, all things considered.

The Winchesters and Bobby Singer were like family to Cas, they were his best friends. Dean in particular started to feel once again like someone he would walk into Hell for. The two were like peas in a socially awkward pod, a strange pair, but obviously kindred spirits. Dean desperately needed someone like that in his life. Having Cas around again was a huge relief he would never admit to. And his attachment to the former-angel only strengthened every day. So when a year after the angel's fall back to humanity, Castiel came to Dean and said that Raphael had won the war in Heaven, and came to him in a dream asking for Castiel's allegiance in return for his Grace, Dean felt betrayed. He was too proud to admit that, in reality, he just didn't want Castiel to go. So he reamed him over the spinelessness of going back to Raphael just because the bastard had offered him wings.

"You're a friggin' coward, and that's the truth. Oh, poor Cas doesn't want to waste away down here with us mortal slobs. So he's gonna run away to the son of a bitch who stabbed him!"

"It's not that simple Dean. Heaven is my home, serving it is my calling, my purpose. I am a hundred times more useful to you as an Angel than I am as a man."

"That's not true!" Dean erupted, and Cas simply stared at him sympathetically. He could see this was more personal than Dean was letting on. Silently he willed Dean to tell the truth, to let it out. But Dean would never do that. "You know what," he started coldly, "this is typical, Cas. One step forward, ten steps back. You always go running home. You're always ready to be Heaven's bitch. I don't know why I'm surprised."

He turned to walk away but Castiel added quietly, "I'll miss you too."

Dean whirled back around, raging at Cas' audacity to say something so... true. He glared at the angel. Castiel stared at him with stripped-bare vulnerability in his eyes, willing Dean to say it, just say it - I'll miss you. Don't go... Cas locked his eyes on Dean, Tell me the truth. Ask me to stay. Please, just ask me to stay.

But Dean couldn't. He just couldn't. Maybe he was too proud, or too scared... he'd never entirely know why exactly in this moment, he couldn't man-up. The point it, he couldn't. And Cas saw it. So he told Dean, "I'm here, if you... need me. For anything. As always."

Dean could sense that some kind of moment had just passed him by, and it only made him angrier. He growled, "Sam and I were just fine before we met you and we'll be fine when you ditch us for the Great Gig in the Sky. We don't need you, Cas! I don't need you!"

He turned his back on the angel, his heart hardening with every step.

And there, left in the wake of Dean Winchester's emotional invulnerability, was a blue-eyed, black-haired man in a trench coat, who didn't know any better than to let him walk away.

People always think they'll have time to set things right.

Even the staunchest realists delude themselves into thinking they can put it off - whatever it may be. Usually an apology.

Dean had been in so many life-threatening situations that his instincts were ridiculous. He was brave to a fault, and much like his father, thought he could bottle everything until he died and didn't have to deal with it anymore anyway. What Dean didn't understand is that, while that may have helped him cut off his emotions so he could do "the job", it did nothing for his personal life. If there was one thing he should have learned from his father, it was that. Shoving everything down, denying your emotions - when did that ever do anything good for John? When did it ever help Dean? It didn't. He only thought it did.

But it was the only way Dean knew how to cope, and he'd learned it at a young age.

Now he was frustrated and wasn't sure why. He could hoot and holler about it being all Cas' fault because he was betraying them by thinking about going back to Heaven, but it didn't change that Dean knew, deep down, there was more to it.

So he did the only thing he could - he worked. Sam and Dean took a job in Louisiana that had started with an alarming number of missing persons, no bodies found, and ended with them arriving in the knick of time at an abandoned factory right in the middle of a demolition zone. The building, which they'd run into willy-nilly as always, was falling down around them, water seeping up from the floorboards and rising by the minute. But did Dean Winchester run? - of course not. A life lived in constant peril had given him a false sense of strength, an inclination toward heroics, and a warped idea of when exactly it was time to duck and run. He should have know it was time to get out, but he didn't pay attention. Somewhere in this building were innocent people that he could save - him and Sam, they were the only ones who could do it, because they were Hunters, and they'd solved the mystery of this monster's lair long before the cops would have any clues whatsoever.

So even when Dean's brain told him to go, his ego and his heart told him to climb those stairs and finds those civilians.

But those stairs were long since condemned. Dean fell straight through the rotted wood and fell two stories into over a foot of water that was rising fast. A sharp pain shot through his leg, and as his hands went instinctively to clutch it, they found instead a wooden beam that was pinning it down. Try as he might to lift it off, the beam wouldn't be moved, and Dean noticed with a panic he tried desperately to ignore that the water was coming faster and faster.

"Sam!" he called up at the ceiling. His brother's form leaned into the hole Dean had just fallen through. "Dean!" Sam screamed seeing the wet and bloodied state of his brother. "You ok?" he called down, over the sound of rushing water.

Dean clutched his leg, "Yeah," he grated out. "My leg's broken, and I'm pinned to the floor in a friggin' flood, but other than that..."

"Hold on," Sam called, ducking out of sight. Dean heard some calamitous banging and sloshing that was no doubt the sound of his brother trying to get to him.

The rushing water was only increasing the pain in his leg as it rose and rose, now all the way up to his chest. A loud crash and some splashing told him Sam had made it, and he looked over to see his mammoth albeit clumsy little brother breaking through some fallen pieces of wall and ceiling.

"What did you stop for pizza?" Dean snarked.

"Shut your face, damsel," Sam jibed breaking his way through the wood.

"You ok?" Dean asked, seeing that Sam was looking a little worse for wear as he attempted to slosh through three foot deep water to get across the room to him.

"Yeah. You?"

"Peachy. I'll be even better when we get me the Hell out of here."

Suddenly there was an ominous creak and the sharp sound of snapping timber - Dean looked up to see the floor above him giving way, a solid beam swinging down toward him, and him unable to move. He looked at Sam, Sam looked back at him - the beam was swinging as if in slow motion as Dean looked at his brother wishing he had time to tell Sammy he loved him, and to ask him to tell Castiel the truth for him.

He tried to duck -

BLACK.