A/N: A lot of you have already read the fic this was a prequel to, Family Matters. A quick update on that, someone gave me a tip that there's a fanfiction contest on Inkitt so I submitted that one. If you liked it, you'd be doing me a huge favor by checking it out on Inkitt dot com and giving it a vote ^_^

Chapter 7 - Because You're Worth it All to Me

It was the most curious thing. Castiel had walked through several dreams yet never experienced one of his own before, having never really slept, and yet he somehow knew as though by instinct that this was nothing but a dream. There wasn't a great deal involved; he thought he was standing on the brink of an enormous precipice. The angel could choose to step off, to fall into nothingness, or he could turn around and walk away from that dizzying edge.

"Jump in," a sinister voice invited, smooth and cunning, like sweetened quicksilver. "After all, you have wings, don't you?" The voice laughed, mirthful and mocking, as it finished, "No, that's right… you don't. Not anymore. You might as well jump, you have nowhere else to go now."

It was true about his wings, of course. Castiel couldn't bear to look at them to assess the damage; he could tell from the feel of them that Hell's fires had burned them away beyond all hope of repair, disfigured, mangled, and useless. His days of flying were over, and as much as that thought destroyed him, it didn't hurt nearly as much as the thought of failing to retrieve Sam.

"So noble," Lucifer whispered, for of course it was Lucifer's voice. "But you don't belong there, and you know it. Monster… Dean would hunt you if he knew the truth."

Castiel was too tired to deal with this. He wished his brother would go away and leave him alone to dream, and he gazed down into the inky black abyss. It was just a dream, after all. Perhaps if he jumped in, it would at least shut Lucifer up, perhaps the dream would end.

"Hey, um… Cas, it's me again," another voice said. The angel paused to listen, cocking his head to the side. Sam… it was Sam. "Look, man, you're really starting to get us worried. You just gotta hold on. No matter what, you can't let go. Please… I know you can do this, Cas."

Sam's voice was coming from somewhere behind him, away from that pit of blackness. But Castiel was far too tired to look for the hunter. For now, he would just stay there, not moving, trying to gather his strength.

"So much blood is on your hands," Lucifer reminded him, serpentine and turpentine. "So much pain you've caused… Jump in. Atone for your sins."

"Listen, as long as these two idjits are asleep," Bobby's voice entered the mix, from somewhere in the distance behind him, with Sam's. "I know you and I ain't as close, but… I kinda miss you being around. I mean, you're okay in my book. You know, for an angel. I ain't really the praying type, but if I only got one prayer, it'd be for you to find your way back to us. So, uh… don't let me down, Feathers."

Castiel was glad that Bobby was distracting him from Lucifer, and the reminder of the intense, debilitating pain of all his violence towards humanity. Though he couldn't hear their screams anymore, the memory was enough to leave him cold and shaken.

Finally, Dean's voice, speaking into what Castiel was certain was nothing more than a dream.

"Cas, I can't take much more of this. It's been a week, you need to wake up! You-" The words broke off; Dean only got emotional when he was deeply upset, and Castiel hated to hear that distress in the hunter. After all, he still considered himself their guardian. He was supposed to help relieve their suffering, not add to it.

There was a pause, then Dean again. "I'm… literally begging you, here. Wake up, Cas, PLEASE. I need you. Me and Sammy need you. You can't just DIE like this!"

Castiel frowned, turning away from the precipice he was perched on. Die? Who'd said anything about dying? He was asleep, that was all. But… perhaps it was time. As inviting as that black nothingness was, Castiel didn't trust it, not like he trusted Dean and Sam.

"They won't want you, brother."

"Then why are they calling for me?" Castiel demanded out loud, his expression hardening, defiance sparking in his weary eyes.

"It won't last. Your grace is fading. Soon you'll be little more than a HUMAN."

Oh, how that word was flooded with disdain, yet Castiel only shook his head. "I can think of a worse fate."

"Cas, you need to come home."

"Any time you want to wake up would be great, Feathers."

"Come on, you son of a bitch, I'm not moving until you get back here."

Castiel sighed, looking up at the endless sky. If he was so tired while already asleep, he dreaded the thought of how exhausted he would be in the waking world, if he could find his way back. But the voices of the three hunters were so insistent, and though the angel felt a fearful reluctance to face the loss of the only life he'd ever known, he couldn't keep holding on to this neutral in-between world forever.

It was time to go.

"They'll never accept you, Castiel! There's nowhere left for you!"

Castiel paused, half glancing over his shoulder towards that dark abyss. "You know," the angel remarked coolly, "if Dean were here, he would tell you to go to Hell. But you're already there. I'm glad you at least are exactly where you belong."

If Lucifer had more to say, Castiel was no longer listening. Taking a breath, the angel squared his shoulders and faced front. For better or worse, his new life—and Dean and Sam—were waiting.

SPN SPN SPN

"Guys? Guys! Look!"

"Cas? Come on, Cas… come on, buddy, come on!"

"Give him some space, you idjits. Cas? Can you hear us?"

The angel managed to pry his eyes open, though it was a Herculean effort. In spite of Bobby Singer's voice urging them to give him room, three faces were swimming in and out of his vision, hopeful and elated as the image sharpened into focus. Bobby seemed to be murmuring encouragements and urgings under his breath; Sam's eyes were lit like the sun, shining with delight at the movement from the angel; Dean looked desperate with hope, and Castiel knew automatically that the hand gripping his arm belonged to Dean.

"Cas!" the younger Winchester gasped now, reaching out to squeeze his other arm. "You're back!"

"God, we've been so worried," Dean said, slumping down with the weight of such fear now relieved. "It's been a week, I didn't know when you'd…" He trailed off, but Castiel stared at him with a touch of surprise.

A week. That's what Dean had said in his dream, too. Perhaps, then, it had been more real than he'd first guessed; perhaps the dream had only been the thin veil to cover reality. He was glad now that he hadn't stepped off the edge of that abyss. If it was indeed Lucifer who'd been speaking to him, then the odds were fair that Castiel would be beyond reach now, had he made the leap. Not wanting to dwell on that, the angel looked to Bobby, who shook his head as the two boys helped Castiel sit up in the bed

"Damn, it's good to see you awake," the older man said, surprising Castiel with such relief. "Though, you look like you've gone a few rounds with a cement truck."

Castiel cocked his head to the side, perplexed. "That… that's a bad thing?" he assumed, voice raspy from lack of use, not sure why the question brought such huge smiles to their faces.

"Well, it's not a good thing," Bobby drawled. "How ya feel?"

The angel considered the question, giving them the honest answer. "Like I've been tortured."

The remark seemed to cast a shadow over the group, and Castiel shifted. Of course… this was probably where he was supposed to lie, as Dean and Sam always did when asked this question. "But, um…" he hurried to add, "it's… not that bad."

They didn't look convinced; Castiel wasn't experienced at lying, after all. He rolled his shoulders self-consciously, then winced as he felt the aching in his wings as though they were physical appendages of his vessel. Already it hurt less than when he'd first arrived back here with Sam, and the angel supposed he should be glad that the body of his outer shell was still able to more or less heal, even if his true form—his wings—couldn't.

"You really had us nervous, Cas," Sam told him now, drawing the warrior's attention back to him.

Castiel relaxed back down against the headboard of the bed he was in, staring at Sam. The young hunter, looked around, then grinned and asked, "What?"

"You're alright," Castiel murmured. "You're… you're really okay. I was afraid…" There'd been so little grace left by the time they'd made it back, he'd been concerned that he wouldn't be able to fully remove the memories of the Cage. Sam nodded, giving his arm another squeeze.

"Yeah. Thanks to you. Dean caught me up, so… I know what you did for me."

He did? Castiel straightened up slightly in alarm; Dean was supposed to have kept that a secret. As though reading his mind, Dean blurted out,

"Yeah, I told him you'd pulled him out and made him forget the Cage."

Oh. That was it? The angel relaxed, giving Dean a small nod. Good.

"Of course." Castiel inhaled deeply, relishing the sensation of still being alive. Though, now that he was awake, he would of course have to start worrying about his next move. He couldn't admit what an incredible relief it was that the three were even there at all, that they'd kept him at Bobby's house. It was touching, and surprising, that they'd been gathered around him the way they did when it was a friend who'd been injured.

But now, he was certain that they would want to carry on with their hunting, and it would be best for Sam to get out there with his brother. As for the angel…

"I appreciate your allowing me the use of your home," he said to Bobby now, who gave him a look ringing with confusion.

"Of course. Ya didn't think we'd hang you out to dry, did you?"

"Hell wasn't particularly damp," Castiel replied, not sure why he would have needed drying out in the first place. Bobby only rolled his eyes as the two boys snickered softly; probably it was another odd colloquialism that he didn't know, then. Shrugging it off, the warrior went on, "I've never asked for anything for myself…"

He broke off in discomfort, shocked at how vulnerable it made him, to ask a favor. If he did ask to stay with them, at least for a while, they might well respond that he needed to leave. That possibility was terrible to consider. Perhaps he should just stop while he could…

"What is it?" Dean asked, making Castiel shift in the bed.

"It's just… I seem to be, um… a little low on power right now, and… well, I don't really have anywhere- that is, I wondered if I might- at least until I recover a bit…"

He couldn't do it. Not even Lucifer had made him feel so vulnerable, with all his horrifying tortures. Castiel broke off and looked away, wishing now that he hadn't said anything. From his peripheral vision, he could see Dean and Sam trading one of those looks that somehow seemed to communicate so much to each other. He wondered if they'd gleaned what he'd been going to ask. Bobby certainly seemed to, for he spoke up now,

"Well, I don't know where you were plannin' on going from here, but I hope you stay as long as you like. The boys know they always got a place here, an'… that means you, too. I sure ain't gonna kick you out."

That was something. Castiel gave the old hunter a quick, grateful look, but continued to avoid eye contact with the two Winchesters. Perhaps they would want to get back on the road by themselves as quickly as possible, which of course was only natural. Castiel tried not to think about Lucifer's words, but they echoed in his mind regardless: There will never be a place for you now.

"So, Cas..." Sam suddenly spoke up. "Dean and I were talking it over while you were out of it."

"We were hoping you'd maybe want to come along with us," Dean finished in a rush. The angel's gaze snapped up to them in shock, albeit a hopeful one.

"Really?" he couldn't help but ask. The boys both grinned, nodding. Castiel hesitated. "You should know," he said carefully, "my grace isn't going to be replenished. This is as strong as I'll ever be."

"Okay… so is that a yes?" Dean asked.

Castiel blinked, looking from one face to the next, awed by the loyalty. He thought of Sam in the Cage, saying that he was like family, and though of course Sam wouldn't remember that, Castiel could almost believe that the expression the young man wore now mirrored that sentiment. The angel didn't even know what to say.

Slowly, the feelings of intense vulnerability drained away, and Castiel swallowed hard, nodding. The elated grins on all three faces at his response were worth more than gold, and the angel would remember it for the rest of his days. His fears subsided, and Lucifer's taunts began to slip into mist. True belonging might be a lot to ask for at the moment, but at least he had somewhere to stay.

Just to know he didn't have to face the world alone, Castiel was content.

SPN SPN SPN

Dean sat down on the back of the old pickup at the far end of the junkyard, taking a few breaths. He hadn't felt the fresh air in a week, refusing to leave Cas's side while the angel was still out of it, but now it was refreshing and soothing against his skin. Dean closed his eyes, hardly able to believe that things had actually ended up working out.

"So, looks like the day was saved, thanks to yours truly."

The hunter couldn't restrain the yelp of surprise, leaping from the truck bed and spinning with gun already drawn. Crowley stood at the other end of the muzzle, eyebrows raising, ignoring Dean's ferocious scowl.

"Save your bullets, Squirrel," he recommended with a particularly sardonic smile. "Besides… as per the deal, I'm off limits to you. Now that you have Moose and Kitten back, which would have been impossible without me, I might add, I've held up my end of the deal. Time for you to hold up yours."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean snapped, lowering his gun slowly, eyes narrowed. "You get your Hell, Crowley, but the first demon I see trying to sucker some poor sap into a deal is getting ganked, you got it?"

"Temper, temper," Crowley returned. "That's all well and good, but you even think about coming after me…" He let the threat linger in the air like a foul odor, before musing, "I'm betting there's a way I can give Moose all those memories of his lovely time in Hell back to him, and I'm pretty sure you don't want that."

"Why you-"

"Relax," Crowley interrupted, taking a step backwards with his hands up in surrender as Dean made to lunge towards him. "As arousing as your threats of violence are, there simply isn't time for that. Just a bit of leverage, which I won't ever need to use provided you honor your word." The demon smiled, looking quite pleased with himself. "Do give my condolences to your de-feathered angel. I'll give him this much, he's not one I'd want to tango with. So long, Squirrel. If you ever fancy a chat, don't bother."

Dean wanted to tell the demon exactly what he would "fancy" doing to him, but Crowley had disappeared, leaving him to glare around the junkyard mutinously for a minute before sitting back down. So much for his fresh air.

The hunter let his head fall down, staring at his feet as he tried to process everything. Crowley's threat was a deep concern, but the demon had honored his word to help them escape Hell. Dean would keep his mouth shut—Sam and Cas would be pissed to know he'd gotten the crossroads king to help them, anyway.

Speaking of Cas… Dean looked up as a flash of tan rustled into view. The angel was looking at him uncertainly, as though not sure he was welcome to join. Dean moved over on the truck bed in invitation so Cas could sit beside him. With a grateful, weary nod, the angel sank down beside Dean.

"Sam's recovering well," Cas began. "With time, I believe his soul may actually heal itself from Lucifer's torture."

Dean nodded, wincing just at the words. Part of him wanted to ask what Lucifer had done, needing to understand what his brother had been through; part of him never wanted to know, and Cas seemed reluctant to discuss it anyway. Beside him, the angel shifted, asking uncomfortably,

"You didn't tell him about… why I'm so much weaker now?"

"As far as Sam knows, you losing power is still just from you being cut off from Heaven," Dean murmured in reassurance. Cas nodded, looking relieved. Dean would have been willing to bet that if he himself hadn't already known that the angel should have been more powerful than ever, Cas would have never even told him the truth.

"Good," Cas replied. "If I could just ask one favor, Dean… please keep it that way. I've watched you and Sam, you have a propensity for taking on guilt that doesn't belong to you."

Dean would have protested, but of course it was probably true. He shrugged, nodding in agreement. "So what did happen?" he asked, and even he could hear the roughness in his voice. Reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket, Dean pulled out the feather he'd kept, painstakingly wrapped in a handkerchief and showed it to the angel as evidence that he already knew something had gone wrong. "What did you do?"

Cas glanced sideways down at the feather, then quickly looked away, eyes falling closed with a wince. Dean wrapped it back up, tucking it safely back into his jacket, before asking again, "What happened?"

For a moment, he almost thought Cas wouldn't answer at all, but finally the warrior sighed. "It's simple, Dean. In order to leave, I needed to be less powerful. I removed some grace, and I couldn't keep my wings protected from the fire. They're- they're basically gone."

"You removed some grace."

"Yes."

Dean let out a soft curse, shaking his head. He remembered Anna talking about how painful it was to cut out her own grace. What had she said? Like cutting out her own kidneys with a butter knife?

"How much?" He waited impatiently, and when Cas hesitated, demanded again, "How much grace, Cas?"

"Almost all of it. The rest, I used to take his memories."

"Son of a bitch!" Dean jumped off the truck bed, running a hand through his hair. He'd never been so conflicted; intense gratitude for the sacrifice, terrible guilt for feeling so relieved. The idea of his best friend flying through Hell while his wings literally burned away was almost more than he could stand.

"That's why I don't want Sam to know I had my grace back before the Cage," Cas pointed out from the truck. "And why I didn't tell you before going in that this was what would happen. Dean, I made the choice for myself. And to be honest, you couldn't have stopped me anyways. I was much stronger than you at that point." He paused, then sighed and said, "You're angry with me."

"No, god, no…" Dean clenched his jaw, sitting back down beside his best friend. He rubbed the back of his neck, wishing—not for the first time—that his life wasn't so damn complicated. "I'm not mad. Okay, I'm mad, but… I- damn it, Cas, I just hate seeing you get the raw end of the deal."

"It was my choice."

But that was another mystery to Dean. This loyalty from Cas… as incredible of a gift as it was, it wasn't as though he particularly deserved it. He was just some human who'd cost the angel everything.

"I get why you pulled me out..." Dean said, staring off into the distance and shaking his head. "Orders, trying to stop the seals from being broken—well, you were, anyway. But Sam… Cas, I wouldn't have ever asked you to cut your grace out. Neither would he."

Cas nodded. "I know," he assured him, voice full of gravel. "You didn't have to. It's what… friends do."

There was so much weight put on the word, but such an air of uncertainty at the same time, and Dean realized with a jolt that Cas was nervous. He turned to look at the angel, but Cas was avoiding his eyes. Why was he afraid to use the word? Was he worried that the hunter didn't see him as a friend in return?

Fine. Dean would spell it out for him.

Sighing, the hunter looked upwards to the sky and said, "Cas, you're my best friend. And, you saved my baby brother, I'll never be able to thank you enough. But… why'd you do it? Man, you knew what it was going to cost. I mean, why would you ever choose us humans?"

For a moment, the angel didn't reply. Then, he took a breath. "When we were in the Cage… Sam tried to protect me from Lucifer. When he was hurting so badly that he could barely move, he still tried to help me. Humans, Dean…"

Cas exhaled softly, shaking his head. Dean was silent, watching him, waiting. Finally, the angel turned to look at him at last, going on, "I've had a long time to watch humankind in my lifetime. You humans, and your capacity for cruelty… it almost rivals that of the monsters you hunt."

Well, that was somewhat of a slap in the face. Dean looked away, and the bitch of it was, he couldn't even argue the point. Yeah… there were some pretty screwed up people in the world, plenty of whom were monsters themselves. He didn't understand why that would be a reason for Cas to support them, but then he suddenly felt a hand touch his sleeve.

It was unusual for Cas to make actual physical contact, and Dean turned back to him in surprise. The angel wasn't smiling—he usually didn't—but his perpetually grave expression had lightened, and he finished, "But humanity's capacity for kindness… it far exceeds that of any other creation that my father made. It's… incredible, actually, the compassion that humans can show."

Again, Cas didn't quite smile, but he looked upwards, hands clasped together now as he leaned forward to rest his forearms on his legs. "I understand now, Dean. I know why we were supposed to protect your race. But for me, you and Sam are what embody it all. Even if I'm not… not really an angel now, I do at least still have a purpose. Even if that's all I have, it- it's enough."

That hadn't been quite what Dean was expecting, and he sat back a bit now, surprised. He wanted to ask more, but all he ended up saying was a firm, "That's not all you have. You've got us. You know, for whatever good that's done you so far."

For what Dean was pretty sure was the first time since he'd met Cas, the angel's mouth started to tip upwards, the corners pulling out as he looked at Dean with such intense gratitude, the hunter blinked in shock.

"Thank you, Dean," the warrior murmured with obvious sincerity. He looked up suddenly, drawing Dean's attention to Sam and Bobby, walking towards them now. They were all up on their feet at last, and—amazingly—everyone was going to be okay.

Well, Cas would have some things to get used to, of course… adjusting to an almost human life would require time and help from his friends. Sam, too, was still recovering from a horrific ordeal, whether he remembered it or not… and there were still plenty of monsters out there to fight. But they were all together, in as much relative safety as was possible for the group.

Again, Cas actually smiled, looking from the approaching couple back to Dean. "Thank you," he repeated. "It was worth it. It was worth it all."

End

A/N: Thank you SO SO SO much to Aini NuFire for being such an encouraging and helpful beta reader! This would have been a different (and inferior) story if not for her help!

Thanks also to Miyth, because this prequel came about as a result of setting up an AU for a fic she wanted.

Thanks always to anyone who's read, favorited, followed, and reviewed! Thanks Heroicagal, LadyWallace, pajasekacka, SPN Mum, BranchSuper, a.k.a. T.R, AndiTheMagnificent, WhiteWolfPrincess95, IAmCaptainAwesome, NorthernShinigami, M. , and Catherine the Superwholockian.

Alas, we have reached the end. See you next time, my fellow Wayward Sons! :D
#AlwaysKeepFighting

The story continues in Family Matters... Cas might have lost his power, but he's still an angel... and John Winchester does not like angels...

None of this would have even been an issue if he'd had just a little more grace, Castiel thought with a touch of irritation as he advanced on the demons with blade in hand. Not that he was complaining; his grace had been more than fair payment to rescue Sam from the Cage, and given the chance to go back, he would have made the same choice.

Still, smiting these two foul creatures to Hell would have been so much more efficient. That was beyond his abilities now, though. Patience gone, Castiel drew himself up with a ferocious glare. Intensity burned in his face, the tattered remnants of his grace heating up to illuminate his body in a brilliant glow. When the lights flashed in the power plant again, he could see the demons cringe away with terror in their eyes as they looked beyond him to the shadows of once-glorious wings covering the wall. The angel took one more step towards the hapless pair.

"Tell me what I need to know!"

The demons scrambled backwards, clawing each other out of the way to avoid the wrath of the angel. They seemed to have nothing more to say.

Very well.

Even with only a fraction of his grace remaining, Castiel was more than a match for two low level demons. He lunged forward with thunder in his lightning eyes. Two swift strokes was all it took for a warrior of his skill; two strokes, and light burst from the demons, white hot with hellfire. The dying echoes of their screams ricocheted off the crumbling metal of the power plant and the dead vessels dropped to the ground with dull splats of flesh on concrete.

Instantly, pain burst in his chest, and Castiel closed his eyes. His sword arm dropped as he clutched at his head with his free hand. The agony… the torment he brought on others… the human bodies he had just killed…

"Let me show you, brother… you are every bit the monster that I am. Let me show you every ounce of pain you have caused others in your lifetime, and you tell ME who is the monster."

Two months after escaping with Sam from the Cage, Castiel could still remember, could still feel Lucifer's condemning fire consuming his being, killing him over and over and over with the cumulative pain of every death his own hands had ever wrought.

It was a phantom pain now, the ghostly echo of an agony that existed only in his memory of Hell – very different from the very physical, very real pain that suddenly erupted from his back in fiery streaks.

Castiel gasped, whirling around as he instinctively raised his weapon and reached a hand over his shoulder. His fingertips brushed the leather bound hilt of a dagger at the same time that his eyes registered the attacker who had sneaked up and plunged it into his back. Castiel stopped dead in his tracks.

Of all the faces he'd expected he might see, John Winchester's had never been one of them.