Their landing was rough, and Michael berated himself. Trying to carry three bodies when it was his first time flying in one wasn't necessarily the smartest idea.

Dean ran to prevent himself from falling over, and Sam just fell flat right on his ass.

"What the hell, Dean," he said, in his best whiny-little-brother voice.

"Sorry! Sorry," he said. "I forgot how this could be."

"Let me fly myself next time, I spent hundreds of years in a vessel already," he sulked.

Castiel, for his part, was silent.

Michael brought them to his parapet, thinking as Dean would and going straight for the closest backdoor to achieve their goal. But as soon as they got there, Michael though to himself, Castiel should feel thankful for seeing this. This section of heaven, not many did.

Immediately, he felt a sort of tension in his self. His attitude as Dean, and his human attitude as a whole, for all his lifetimes, said 'it's not your birth, it's your actions, that determine your worth.' By actions, Castiel was more worthy than Michael many times over.

Michael remembered Castiel as a child when he fell, a child that seemed dedicated to doing the right thing. He'd grown into a fine adult, one who had fallen and forsaken heaven so that humanity might live. Michael grew into someone who selfishly left.

Dean was disgusted with himself.

But his self-righteousness, his leadership, his birth status as leader of the armies felt foreign. He remembered how he felt, standing here, contemplating falling. Everything was turning sour, and no amount of birthright and righteousness was able to set it straight. He, with all his power, couldn't circumvent the free will of humans.

"I suppose the will is all it took," Lucifer said, still just sitting on the floor. "I can feel heaven's power with me."

"It is this place," Castiel said, absolutely captivated. "It is the castle of The Lord."

He was right; Michael, Lucifer, Gabriel and Raphael all had housing that surrounded the center, the throne of their Father. Michael didn't want to go look at it, didn't want to see it's taunting emptiness. Still empty after all this time.

"Can we go now?" Michael said, uncomfortable. Years of humanity changed him, and suddenly he resented this place. Resented all the angels created to keep humanity safe, resented the fact that they abandoned the earth. He resented himself for abandoning humanity.

He remembered the last time he was here, full of self-righteousness and wrath, wrath that did nothing to keep humanity safe. He remembered loneliness, loneliness from angels that knew nothing of closeness, and he remembered feeling so unequipped to deal with it. He remembered wishing their Dad was there.

He remembered thinking Lucifer was right, and that Dad had set it all up. Michael didn't think, anymore, he was sure. And as a human he was angry, so angry that God did this to them.

Dean understood why Sammy was always seeking dad's approval, why in all their lifetimes he was always the son who wanted approval he could never get. Lucifer was gone, he didn't see Dad abandon them, in Lucifer's mind it was Lucifer who abandoned God. He couldn't be more wrong.

"Yeah, can we?" Lucifer said, in the same tone of voice.

Lucifer hated to think that he was right, all along. He tore his grace out because he couldn't crawl back and repent. Dad had sent him away, said he couldn't return. But he couldn't save the humans, either, failed at the very purpose he fell over.

It felt like Jess, all over again, except this time Jess was a hundred million human souls burning in hell. That is why he sat on the floor; he was reminded of his failure, reminded again of how secrets doomed them all.

Castiel's face fell, and he nodded. They flew away.

They appeared in Bobby's living room, suddenly, as per usual.

"God damnit!" Bobby all but shouted, spilling a drink on himself. They had appeared alarmingly close to him. "New rule, angels have to apparate to the front door and knock, just like the rest of us!"

"You've read Harry Potter?" Sam asked, bemused.

Bobby merely scowled. "You've been gone for hours."

"Time moves slower in hell, and faster in heaven," Dean said by way of explanation. "I guess a lot faster, since we were only gone five or ten minutes."

"Well stick around here, I'd like to be able to reach you when I have news," Bobby said.

"So does praying to Dean and Sam work? I don't want to use your formal names," Dean heard in his mind. "Praying to Sam and Dean, my ass."

"Yes, surprisingly, it does," Sam answered out loud. "I prefer those names anyways. Less baggage, and more secret."

"Sam and Dean Winchester are hardly secrets," Bobby said. "You're legends in your own right."

Dean grunted.