Here we are at the end! Thank you for taking this journey with me, and for all of your kind words and lovely comments. Again, this was written for the SPN Gen Big Bang, and dollarformyname was my wonderful artist. Please go to her LJ (dollarformyname dot livejournal dot com) and check out the beautiful art she produced for this story, including an image from this chapter.

I hope the finale satisfies.

Twenty-three hours.

It had been precisely twenty-three hours since Sam dove into Hell to find and rescue Gabriel, and there had been no sign of them.

Dean had said that would be the case. That it was all or nothing. Sam couldn't get a message from Hell to Earth, so the only way they'd hear anything was if he came back, with or without Gabriel.

Castiel knew that he wouldn't come back alone. He was pretty sure Dean knew that, too.

Samandriel tried his best to make things normal. He cooked a breakfast that nobody ate, although Dean made a valiant effort. Castiel wasn't sure that eating came naturally to angels, although Dean had certainly given it a good shot with the pie that first night, but he managed a few bites of eggs and a single piece of toast this time, which was more than Castiel could force down.

Bobby took his coffee with whiskey. This time, when he offered it to Castiel, he accepted it.

Dean took some, too, though he made the offhand remark that it would take considerably more alcohol than Bobby had in his possession to get an angel drunk.

The fact that it could happen at all was the first thing that day to make Castiel grin, and even then, it stuttered out like a badly-wired light bulb before long.

Castiel cleared their breakfast and washed the dishes, because it kept his hands busy and the white noise from the faucet drowned out the thoughts that chased themselves around his head. He could drown out some of the useless guilt he felt by at least keeping his family's dishes clean.

He dropped a glass on the floor and it cracked and split into three pieces, though it didn't shatter. He stood there for a long moment, staring at it. Dean came up to him, put a gentle hand on his arm, and fixed the cup. He didn't take his hand away until Castiel had stopped shaking.

They all tried to be useful.

Bobby flipped through four books about Hell, then stuck them all in the drawer beneath his desk. He looked pale, and poured himself some more whiskey, and Dean looked at him with an expression that was half sympathy and half some darkness that Castiel couldn't name.

Even Ruby did her part. Castiel saw her speaking quietly with Dean—they'd cut her loose, nobody enjoying the humor in her plight quite as much with Gabriel gone. They'd conferred for a while, until Dean went into the kitchen and grabbed a small, shallow bowl. He placed it on the counter, took a knife from the knife block, and sliced open his forearm, letting the gushing blood pour into the bowl.

Castiel ran forward, though he stopped in front of Dean, his hands extended slightly but his body unwilling to get between the angel and the weapon.

"Dean," he said.

Dean stared at him, wide-eyed. For a horrible moment Castiel thought that he was in shock, but he shook his head and took in a deep, ragged breath.

"Ruby needs the blood," he said.

"That sounds like a really bad plan," Castiel replied.

"For scrying. For—she thinks she can see Sam, Cas."

Castiel fell silent, taking the knife from Dean's lax hand and turning on the tap, watching as the angel's blood ran down the drain in jewel-like rivulets.

"I can't say no to that."

"I know," Castiel said. "Do you need to wrap that up, or—?"

Dean shook his head, pressing a hand over the wound.

Castiel ended up bringing the bowl over to Ruby. He hadn't paid much attention to her since Gabriel's death, but she looked pale and somber. Perhaps it was just the general tone of the house that was rubbing off on her, or perhaps it was Gabriel's death and Sam's absence putting a crimp in her plans, but she was quiet. She looked up when Castiel approached, and held out her hands for the bowl.

"I'm not making any promises," she said as she took the bowl into her hands.

"I'm not asking for any," Dean said softly, sitting cross-legged in front of her.

He looked up at Castiel, expectant. Castiel sat down next to him.

Ruby looked between them, then sighed and settled into a cross-legged position as well. She held the bowl in her left hand and used her right middle finger to stir the blood within it. Castiel shifted uncomfortably.

"Clamabo ad angelum infra," Ruby intoned. Castiel couldn't translate the Latin, but he saw Dean tense. "Clamabo ad angelum infra. Clabamo ad angelum—"

She froze, and Dean froze, and Castiel fought to keep his breathing steady. Ruby's eyes were black now, and her face was tilted slightly up and pointed directly between Dean's and Castiel's shoulders. Her lips were pressed together and pale. The blood bowl trembled in her hands.

"Sam. Your brother is calling on you. He—no. I know. I—Sam, behind you!"

Dean lunged forward, but Castiel grabbed his arm. Little as he knew about this, he couldn't imagine that touching Ruby while she was like this would be a good idea.

"Sam, you have to go faster, he won't be in that Circle. You have to—Sam?"

One, two, three, four, five eternal seconds passed, and Ruby's head snapped forward, her long hair falling over her face. When she lifted her head, her eyes were blue once again.

"What happened?" Dean's voice was thin, tremulous.

"He's...he's alive, Dean. He's alive," Ruby said. Castiel knew from the way she said it that it was the only good news.

"You lost him," Dean said.

Ruby pressed the heel of her hand against her temple. "I—yes. He couldn't talk anymore. He couldn't have his attention divided. If I'd talked to him longer he would have been killed."

"He doesn't have Gabriel, does he," said Castiel.

Ruby shook her head.

"I don't know why you expected good news out of a bowl full of blood," she said.

Her ashen, sympathetic expression contrasted with her harsh words. Strangely, Castiel believed that she was sorry.

Nobody made even a token attempt at lunch.

Dean was starting to look very pale by noon, and Castiel would catch him staring out the window to the porch like just looking hard enough would summon Sam's—soul? Did angels have souls? Had he brought his vessel into the Pit? Castiel knew so little about these creatures that sacrificed so much for him. But Dean stared like he could summon Sam back to Earth with the intensity of his gaze.

Maybe he was calling him. Maybe his cold, pale, somber silence was only on one level of reality, only on the one Castiel could see, and the rest of him was calling out like a beacon. Sam, Sam, home is here, come back home.

Maybe on another level of reality, Dean sitting in the hall was a lighthouse for his brother.

By two o'clock, Dean had camped out by the hallway and would not be moved. Castiel tried to make sure that he was comfortable, although he couldn't be. None of them could be, not while they were missing brothers.

He brought Dean his jacket, and the angel took it with a brief smile. He brought Dean tea, and he accepted it with a quiet thanks. In the end, at about half past five o'clock, while Bobby and Samandriel began to make a dinner that was probably just going to be thrown away in the kitchen, Castiel had no more things to bring to the angel in his vigil. So he walked up to him and sat down on the floor beside the chair Dean had brought.

He felt Dean's eyes on him, but he just looked down at the rosary he'd picked up.

"Catholic?" Dean asked.

"I was brought up in the Church," Castiel replied. "My mother was very devout. My father, too, though things changed once my mother died. I haven't been to church in years."

He peered up at the angel. "Is that bad?" he asked.

Dean said nothing for a moment, glanced out the window, and lowered his hand into Castiel's hair. It was oddly comforting, the weight of the angel's hand, the physical realness of it when everything seemed so unreal.

"You're fine. You're doing a good job, Cas."

"I don't remember many of the prayers." Castiel frowned down at the rosary.

Dean bent down and took the rosary into the hand that wasn't in Castiel's hair, and ran his thumb over the smooth wooden beads. "Pray from your heart," he said. "What do you want?"

"I want them back, and I want them safe."

There was nothing else he could pray for, nothing else he would dare to ask for. What if he only got one request? What if he prayed for something trivial, and was granted that, but not Sam and Gabriel's return? There was only one thing in the world to pray for.

"Then you didn't forget the prayer that matters," Dean said. He pressed the rosary back into Castiel's hands. "Bring them back, keep them safe."

"Should I say please?"

That earned him a chuckle. "Couldn't hurt, buddy."

Castiel ran the beads through his fingers, and asked his last question. "Is anybody listening?"

Dean's hand, which had been rubbing the back of Castiel's neck, stilled. Castiel could barely hear him when he answered.

"I'm listening."

Castiel slipped the rosary into the familiar position, and prayed.

Bring them back. Please, keep them safe.

A new bead.

Bring them back. Please, keep them safe.

A new bead.

Bring them back. Please...

Dinner at seven o'clock was as somber an affair as breakfast had been.

Always pragmatic, Bobby had not cooked much, just enough for all of them to push food despondently around their plates. Dean wouldn't even come to the table, just stayed in his chair in the hallway, staring out the window.

"Watch them come back in through the back door, just to be contrary," Bobby muttered while he picked at a collard green.

Castiel thought about replying, but he simply didn't have the energy.

"We should eat," Samandriel said, but he was stabbing his casserole without taking any bites. "We don't know how long it'll take Sam. It's no good if we all starve to death in the mean time."

"Dean's starting to look really worried," Castiel said. "I think that he expected him back sooner."

"How the hell is he supposed to knock down Hell's gates and bring your brother back in fourteen hours?" Bobby grumbled.

"It hasn't been fourteen hours for Sam," Ruby said, prising a piece of carrot out of her casserole with a prong of her fork. "It's been months."

Castiel choked. "Months?"

Ruby frowned, then fiddled on her fingers. Castiel realized she was doing mental math. "About three months. So that's why Dean-o's freaking out. Sam's been fighting his way through there for almost three months."

Months. Sam and Gabriel had both been in Hell for a quarter of a year.

Bobby stared at Dean.

Castiel followed suit.

The angel was hunched over, doubtless resting his chin on his hands as he stared out into the yard. Sam, Sam, home is here…

Castiel wondered what would happen to Dean, if Sam did not return.

If Sam did not return, that meant, of course, that Gabriel was not returning. And it would break Castiel, and it would break Samandriel, and it would break Bobby, but they were all of them already broken. They could break more. They could survive it. It would be difficult. Perhaps they would not survive it well, and maybe they would not even survive it for long, but they would press on.

That's what humans did.

But Dean was not human. He had turned against his family and all he knew not only for the Novaks' sake, Castiel knew—for Sam's sake. Before he had any interest in helping Castiel for any purpose beside preparing him for his destiny, much less rebelling to take up humanity's cause, he was willing to ward Sam against other angels, to help him hide, which surely must have been an act of rebellion in itself. Surely, Dean had committed some level of treachery for his brother, even before he decided to throw his hat into the ring wholesale.

Me and Sammy, we've always been...off.

In that word, off, there had been so many layers of love and frustration and fierce loyalty and all of the complicated, angry, hard-edged, soft-centered emotions that Castiel had always associated with brotherhood. In that word, off, Dean had shown Castiel the empty places that the loss of Dean's innocence before his Father's throne had left in him, and had shown Castiel how Sam had filled those places. How Dean filled them with Sam.

No. Castiel was not at all sure that Dean would recover, if Sam did not come home.

"He's a damn pitiful sight," Bobby said, but his voice was soft and gentle and not unsympathetic.

The old hunter sighed heavily and stood up, taking up his untouched plate. He scraped the food into a tupperware, leaned back to pop his back dramatically, and said, "I'm gonna go talk to him."

That left Samandriel and Castiel alone in the kitchen. Samandriel used that as an opportunity to scoot his chair closer and press his nose against his brother's arm. Castiel lifted his arm and let his brother burrow close.

"Sam's going to come back with Gabriel. Isn't he?" Samandriel asked against Castiel's ribs.

Castiel looked at Ruby. She met his eyes, then looked back down.

He rubbed circles against his brother's arm with the palm of his hand. This was no time for lies. But neither was it time for cruel truths and crueler doubts, he thought.

"I believe in him," he said. "I don't think he'd do it if he thought it was hopeless."

Samandriel turned and clung to him like he did when he was small, and their father was gone, and Gabriel was too angry or too sad or too scared himself to both hold down the fort (and oh, now that Castiel knew what that meant, how could he ever not have been scared?) and comfort his baby brother. The job would fall to Castiel, then, who always accepted it without complaint, and Samandriel would run into his arms and wrap his skinny limbs around him and Castiel would hold him until he wasn't shaking anymore.

He wasn't sure how long that would take, this time, or if there was anything he could do to stop the shaking.

It didn't matter.

He held his brother.

Samandriel fell asleep at midnight. Castiel checked and re-checked all of the sigils before going back downstairs, where Bobby and Dean were both set up by the door. He was at the foot of the stairs, and Bobby hadn't heard him and Dean was perhaps not paying attention or just didn't care, because they didn't stop their conversation.

"If he doesn't come back, you gonna go after him?" Bobby asked.

Dean had a cup of coffee in his hands, and so did Bobby. Dean stared down into his.

"He wouldn't want me to," he said quietly. "He'd want me to stay here with you."

"And what do you want, son?"

Dean was silent.

Castiel went into the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee.

He napped on the couch, brief moments of sleep snatched from the jaws of his crushing fear and increasing sense of grief, but they were no respite.

He dreamt of fire and chains, of Gabriel's screams and Sam's wings burning.

He woke to Dean's hand on his forehead—the first time he'd moved from the hallway since early afternoon.

The angel passed a thumb over Castiel's brow and said, "I'm thinking about it, too."

The sun had risen and Castiel's eyes opened again. He'd fallen back asleep, probably with Dean's help, although he didn't remember it, and had perhaps stayed asleep for an hour and a half, maybe two hours.

Dean was not in the library, and he was not in the hallway.

Castiel struggled to his feet and made his way into the kitchen, which was empty, the sun streaming drearily in through the windows, like the day wanted to be up as little as Castiel did. Like even the sun was not ready to rise in a world where Sam and Gabriel hadn't come home yet.

The whole house was quiet—Samandriel was still asleep, and upon investigation, Bobby was also asleep. Ruby was nowhere to be seen, which probably meant she'd hidden herself down in the basement, which despite Bobby's threats to shove her in the panic room was where she'd taken to escaping.

And Dean was gone.

Castiel considered praying, but he thought that testing the wards like that was ill-advised. They'd attracted enough attention, and they had made enough people (and other things) angry. He didn't know when he prayed to Dean whether or not anyone else could hear him.

So he was silent, but he took up the chair Dean had left in the hallway.

The sun had risen more fully now, more strongly than it had seemed to in the kitchen. It was a beautiful, bright, crisp day, a hint of rose still tinting the morning sky as the last of sunrise faded.

Castiel thought it a cruelty that the sky didn't weep for his brother, for Dean's brother.

He remembered this from when his mother died, that he hadn't understood how people still went to work, how the sun still rose and set, how he was still breathing in and out when his mother was gone. The world should stop. It should all stop, because there could be nothing good or worthwhile now that his mother was gone.

Gabriel was gone, now. Sam was gone. And the sun still rose, and it wasn't fair.

The light shone down on the front yard of Bobby's house, catching the dew on the grass and what shine was left on a few of the closer cars and on the edge of an angel blade and the dull brown of Dean's jacket and—

Oh, God.

Castiel threw the door open.

Dean struggled under the weight of an unconscious Sam in one arm and a barely-conscious Gabriel in the other. Castiel ran outside, wards be damned, and slipped his shoulders beneath his brother's arm.

"Gabriel," he said. "Gabriel. You're okay. You're home. Gabriel, it's Castiel. Can you hear me?"

"Give him a sec," Dean grunted, shifting Sam's weight. His brow was furrowed, but even that didn't stop the smile that kept blooming and fading on his face.

"They're home," Castiel said.

"They're home," Dean agreed, and they both smiled the helpless, aching smiles of the desperately relieved.

Sam and Gabriel both regained full consciousness in less time than Castiel would have guessed, thanks in large measure to Dean's impatience.

He could have let them rest and recover on their own, he'd said, but he'd also said fuck that because his little brother was back.

Dean disappeared with Sam pretty much immediately after he woke up, although they were still in the house—Castiel could hear them down in the basement, and from the look of concern on Dean's face right before they vanished, he was pretty sure Dean wanted to make sure Sam hadn't gotten messed up somehow before he let his brother be around the humans. The sounds from the basement were quiet, but he could hear what sounded uncomfortably like Sam coughing, and broken sounds almost like sobs.

Gabriel came to more slowly. Dean warned them before he left with Sam that Gabriel was likely to be disoriented and more than a little scared when he woke. So when Gabriel's eyes opened, Castiel held his breath.

Gabriel blinked heavily, looking for all the world like he just had the worst hangover of his life, but eventually his eyes opened fully. He was quiet—so quiet that Castiel worried for just a moment, just one panicked second, that somehow Gabriel had left his voice in Hell.

But then he whispered, "Cas?"

"I'm here, Gabriel," he said, softly, barely more than a whisper himself. He put a tentative hand on Gabriel's arm, but took it away when his brother flinched. "You're home."

Gabriel's eyes darted around the room, falling on Bobby, on Samandriel, then back to Castiel. " 'S this a trick?" he asked.

Castiel shook his head. "No. Sam got you out."

"Sam," Gabriel said, and tried to struggle up sitting. Castiel didn't touch him again, but put his hands up in front of him, asking him to stop. Gabriel was only halfway up, and let himself fall back to the couch. "Cas. Sam?"

"Downstairs with Dean," Castiel said. "I promise, Gabriel, he's here. They'll be back soon. You both came back."

Gabriel smiled weakly, and closed his eyes. Castiel felt another surge of panic, but it was quelled when his brother looked up at him. "You didn't make the deal, did you?" he asked.

Castiel shook his head. "Sam wouldn't let me."

"You tried?" It was the strongest Gabriel had sounded, so Castiel didn't even mind the implied you idiot. He didn't even mind it when Gabriel actually said, "You idiot!"

"I didn't do it," Castiel said. "Sam saved you. Not me."

Gabriel waved an accusatory finger vaguely in the air. "When I'm back to fighting shape, we're gonna have a talk about demon deals, Cas. And then we're gonna have a fight about it. And I'm gonna kick your ass."

Castiel couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. "Probably," he agreed.

He moved aside so Samandriel could take his place beside their brother, watching as Gabriel suppressed his immediate instinct to freeze when touched so that Samandriel could give him a gentle, cautious hug.

Castiel jumped a little when Bobby put a hand on his shoulder. He looked over and saw his father in all but name smiling at him.

"You all right, boy?"

Castiel nodded and leaned heavily against him. "I'm all right."

It was even the truth.

Dean and Sam came back upstairs about an hour later, and Sam went immediately to kneel in front of Gabriel.

Castiel watched the smile spread across his older brother's face as he looked up at the angel who had saved him. He'd never seen Gabriel look like this before.

He supposed Gabriel had never been saved before, though.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked him, his hands fluttering over Gabriel's arms, not quite touching but still searching, his eyes raking over him.

"I'm okay," Gabriel said, putting a hand over one of Sam's. The angel stilled, looking startled before a soft, surprised smile bloomed on his face. But Gabriel wasn't smiling anymore; he was looking over Sam's shoulder. "But Sam, your wings—"

Sam put his hand atop Gabriel's and squeezed gently. "They'll heal," he said. "Dean is gonna take care of me. They'll heal, Gabriel."

Castiel heard Dean walk up behind him. He asked, very softly, "Can he see them?"

"Sam's wings? Not anymore. But probably on the way up." Dean took in a deep breath, and Castiel watched the ebb and flow of emotions over his face—the fear that was still receding, the bone-deep relief, the fondness, the pride. "And they are hurt. His wings. They're...burnt. Torn."

"He saved my brother." Castiel tried to imbue those words with all he felt about the fact, but he wasn't sure much was audible beyond the tremor, beyond the tears that started welling in his eyes as he watched Sam—injured, tortured, brainwashed Sam—tend to Gabriel, fuss over Gabriel.

Dean scoffed. Offended, Castiel looked up, but the angel was still fixated on his brother. "Of course he did," Dean said. "That's what Sam does. He saves people."

"That's what you do, too."

Dean looked down at him, a vulnerability in his face, then he grinned. "I guess it's what we all do, huh?"

"They're okay?"

Castiel and Dean turned, and saw Ruby hovering in the doorway, her arms wrapped around herself. She looked hesitant, unsure. It was the first time Castiel had seen that in her. Her eyes kept flicking to Sam and Gabriel.

"They're okay," Dean said. "And that's partially due to you. So. Uh. Thanks."

Ruby startled, staring up at Dean as if he'd started speaking Klingon.

"Sorry, say that into my good ear," she said, pulling her hair back and cupping her ear.

"I said blow me," Dean shouted.

"Fucking hell, Dean, you're setting a bad example for the children," Ruby said, covering Castiel's ears with her hands before he shrugged her off.

Sam looked up, then, and gestured for them to come closer. They obeyed, and Castiel took a seat on the floor at Gabriel's feet. Dean stood behind him, Ruby further behind him.

Sam looked around at all of them. "You all need to know how angry we have made literally everyone in Heaven and Hell," he said.

"Very, is the answer," Gabriel said. Sam turned an affectionate glare on him, and he shrugged. "Just wanted to clarify."

Sam kept glaring for a moment, then relented. "He's not wrong."

"Let 'em bring it," Dean said.

Everyone turned to him. He was uncowed.

"Seriously. We can take it. First you got the two weirdest angels in the garrison—forget the garrison, in all of the Host. Then you got three kids brave enough to say fuck it to what everybody told them was Heaven and Hell's immutable plans for the Apocalypse, tough enough to survive up to that point, and stupid enough to hang out with said weirdest angels. Then you got Hell's most aggravating turncoat, and—Bobby."

"Thanks," Bobby said, dry, but with a smile threatening.

"Kid? I'm twenty-four," Gabriel complained.

"Also, I'm right here," Ruby protested.

Dean fixed them all with an unimpressed look.

"So let 'em bring it," he repeated. "We can take it."

Sam rolled his shoulders and Castiel could see his wince, the tightening of his features, but he set his jaw and grinned. "I mean, we can't exactly unring this bell. Heaven knows what we did, and Hell sure does, too."

"So we do this," Dean said. "We do this thing."

Castiel looked up at him, and said, "What about...rebelling? Falling?"

Sam looked up at his brother, too, and then everyone's attention was on Dean, who was still and quiet, looking down at Castiel like he was trying to figure out a puzzle.

Finally, he said, "I pledged my loyalty to my Father. He made you, and He loved you. If John doesn't understand that, if Heaven doesn't, that's not on me. I'm going to do what I was made to do."

Castiel put a hand on Dean's leg, and the angel grimaced and rolled his eyes. "We don't have to have a Hallmark moment about this."

"But we can if we want to?" Gabriel asked, lifting his arms out as though to ask for a hug, and Dean rolled his eyes harder. "C'mon, you big lug, bring it in."

"'M not givin' you a hug," Dean muttered, but he was grinning, and Sam was grinning past his pain, and Gabriel made grabby fingers. "I will Fall from Grace for you idiots, but I am not gonna 'bring it in'."

"Come on, Dean," Sam said.

"Yeah, come on, Dean," Gabriel agreed.

Dean shook his head. Sam reached out and grabbed him by the wrist, bringing him crashing to his knees and wrapping his arms around him.

Castiel barely heard Sam's words as he asked, "Are we gonna be okay?"

Dean's voice was rough, choked, and he said, "Yeah, man. We're gonna be okay."

Gabriel rolled off the couch and onto the angels, and Samandriel joined them.

Castiel smiled as he watched them, and then laughed when Dean glared out from the pile and said, "You two assholes want your one chance for a hug, and believe me when I say this is your one chance, or you just gonna watch?"

Bobby sighed, muttered something about being too old for this shit, but lowered himself down and put his arm around Samandriel.

Castiel crawled over, and Dean's strong arm pulled him in, and Castiel reached out and grabbed Ruby, who gave a yell but succumbed quickly and with surprising quiet.

The road ahead was long, dark, and probably ended in a cliff.

But surrounded by his brothers, the man who raised him, and the angels and demon who had somehow fallen into their lives, he thought maybe Dean was right.

Maybe they would be okay.