A/N: So, 11x21 was enjoyable to watch, but it left my feels completely broken and my muse rather angry with how Cas was basically being ignored by everyone. Except Amara, which is so wrong. I really hope that in the next episode Dean either demands that Lucifer take a minute and let him talk to Cas before they go to war, or asks Chuck for confirmation that Cas is alright in there. Because if this whole ignoring Cas is still in there thing continues…I might end up writing something worse than this.

Warning for TEMPORARY character death. The show does it all the time, so it's not technically a death fic. But my muse is wounded, and I'm taking it out on some characters. I promise there will still be a happy ending, though.

"Left Behind"

"They've forgotten about you."

Castiel dragged his eyelids open to find Lucifer looming over him. The archangel wore his old vessel's visage within Castiel's mind, though the last time Castiel had seen him, Lucifer had been as burned and bloody as Castiel. Amara's torture had affected them both.

Now, however, there was no sign of Lucifer's wounds, while Castiel couldn't muster the strength to get up from where he lay on the floor, his grace a broken, sputtering knot of pain and confusion. The dream construct of the Bunker's kitchen, the place he had viewed as a refuge during this possession, looked as though a bomb had been detonated. Scorch marks, not unlike those of angel wings, branched up along the walls. Kitchen appliances and dishes, all the detailed accoutrements that had made the facade feel more real, lay in shattered heaps across the floor. Including the television set Castiel had been glued to for some time. It was strange, for after Amara's torture had started, he'd begun to forget why the device was so important in the first place.

Lucifer roved his gaze around and tutted. "Wow, I gotta say, Dad's losing his touch if his healing couldn't go deep enough to reach you." The archangel paused, slowly lowering his eyes to Castiel. "Or perhaps he just didn't care to bother."

Castiel squinted up at his brother, having difficulty parsing out his meaning between spurts of pain. Dad?

Lucifer crouched down next to him, morphing his expression into a sympathetic moue. "He's probably tired of bringing you back. I know how that feels, to be cast aside by Father when all you ever did was try to please him." Lucifer reached out to squeeze Castiel's shoulder in a parodic gesture of comfort, but it only sent a fresh spike of agony through the wounded angel.

"The Winchesters aren't even trying to get you back anymore," Lucifer continued. "When Sam came to rescue me from Amara, he threatened to leave us there if I didn't agree to play ball with Dad. And Dean, well, he's falling more and more under Amara's lure."

Castiel squeezed his eyes shut and tried to turn his head away. But he was too tired, too heavy. And there was nowhere to escape within the confines of his own mind. His grace shuddered with a spasm.

"Now, now," Lucifer crooned. "Don't be upset, Castiel. After all, you've served your purpose. The Winchesters have me, and with God back, we'll defeat the Darkness, just like you wanted."

Castiel opened his eyes and met his brother's soft gaze. Lucifer clucked his tongue, running a finger over one of Castiel's jagged wounds and causing him to suck in a sharp breath.

"You were exactly right; you are expendable. And once this last speck of grace burns out, this body will be all mine." Lucifer's hand moved to clasp the side of Castiel's neck. "Thank you, brother, for your noble sacrifice." His fingers furled into a vice-like grip, digging into Castiel's throat.

Pain exploded through him, rippling like a shockwave through his grace and breaking apart the last pieces that had been desperately clinging to life. Castiel's last thought was overwhelming despair before his world went black.

o.0.o

Castiel did not expect to open his eyes again, as death had always been a dark, numb oblivion. And so when awareness returned, he thought he must not be dead yet. Except, he was no longer in the demolished kitchen, and Lucifer was gone.

Castiel blinked as he found himself standing in a stark white room. It was so bright it almost blinded him at first, and he staggered back a step. This place…it felt like Heaven. Terror shot through him as visions of Naomi and re-education assaulted his memory. No, it couldn't be…she was dead, and there was no one who had taken over her work. Besides, why would he be here? How would he be here?

Castiel bumped into a small end table and knocked over a crystal vase that'd been sitting on top of it. The glass shattered on the floor, scattering shards of diamonds. Castiel stared at the glittering mess, and slowly his mind began to register other things in the room—plush white sofas, a silver sculpture of arching spirals in one corner, a prism chandelier hanging from the ceiling. This place wasn't anything like Naomi's offices.

"Who's there?" a gruff voice echoed from a door at the end of the room.

Castiel tensed as footsteps clapped across the marble tile, but the person who emerged was the last one he had ever expected to see. "Bobby?"

The grizzly hunter pulled up short in the doorway, brows flying upward, apparently just as surprised to see Castiel. Bobby's expression suddenly turned serious, and he glanced around nervously. "Is this another jailbreak?" he asked in a hushed voice.

Castiel frowned. "This is Heaven?"

Bobby shot him a perplexed look. "Of course it is. Where'd you think you were?"

Castiel opened his mouth, but hesitated. He looked around warily again, and began to question his sanity. "Not…here."

Bobby was now studying him carefully. "So, you're not here to break me out?"

Castiel turned his attention back to the old hunter. "Out of where?"

He snorted. "Wherever here is. Some kind of holding area, I think. After I helped you spring what's-his-name, the angels were none too happy with me. Stuck me here until they could 'figure out a proper punishment.'" He scowled. "Not a single stinkin' magazine to read or decent drink in the place."

Castiel felt a pang of remorse. He hadn't expected the angels to realize Bobby had helped him free Metatron, or that they would punish the human soul for it.

"So if you didn't come to rescue me," Bobby said sourly. "What are you doing here?"

"I…" Castiel turned his senses inward in search of his grace, but didn't find it. It wasn't that it was necessarily gone, because there wasn't a void like there had been before, but it was…dormant? "I believe I'm dead."

"Oh." Bobby looked torn between disappointment and sympathy. "How's that work? I didn't think angels went to Heaven."

Castiel's brows knitted together. "I don't know." He glanced around the room again. "I suppose I was brought here to be judged."

Bobby snorted. "Well, pull up a chair, you might be here a while. The angels haven't gotten around to my punishment yet." He strolled over to one of the white sofas and plopped down on it.

Castiel slowly moved to sit in a chair across from him. "Yes, well, a lot has happened."

"Just tell me, Dean…is he okay?"

Castiel's chest twinged with something he couldn't identify. "We found a way to remove the Mark and save him, yes."

Bobby narrowed his eyes. "But…?"

"But the Darkness, which turned out to be God's sister, was released from an eternal prison, and is trying to destroy the world."

Bobby blinked at him several times before frowning. "Wait, God has relatives?"

Castiel shrugged.

"Guess that explains why I've apparently been forgotten here."

Castiel's chest constricted again, this time as those words echoed through his mind in Lucifer's voice. "Bobby," he started hoarsely. "I'm sorry. I didn't think the angels would punish you. I…I should have tried to come back and check…"

Bobby canted a scrutinizing look at him. "You needed my help to get in at all. How were you supposed to 'come back and check'?"

"You didn't deserve to be forgotten," Castiel said in a low voice.

There was a beat of silence between them before Bobby leaned forward, folding his arms across his knees. "What happened out there? How'd you bite the dust?"

Castiel looked away. He was ashamed to admit his weakness to a man who had always been a pillar of strength and wisdom in the Winchesters' lives. Bobby would probably chew him out, call him an idgit, or worse. Castiel deserved it, though.

"We…needed to find a way to defeat the Darkness. The only one even remotely capable of matching her power was one of the archangels, and there were none left in Heaven…"

"Oh, hell no," Bobby cursed. "You boys didn't."

Castiel grimaced. "Sam went into the Cage looking for answers…but I was the one who let Lucifer out. I let him possess me."

Bobby's brows flew to his hairline. "You did what? How is that even possible, an angel possessing another angel?"

"I'm not really an angel anymore," Castiel admitted bitterly. "My grace has been torn apart multiple times, and has never healed correctly." Even now he wasn't sure what to make of the simmering ember within him now. If he was a full angel with wings restored, he probably could have flown himself and Bobby out of this place, taken refuge in another corner of Heaven. But he couldn't do that.

Bobby shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe the boys let you do that."

Castiel's chest was getting more and more uncomfortably tight, and he wished it would stop. He'd known what he was doing, the sacrifice that was required. Lucifer was right; why should he regret how it all turned out now?

"They didn't know. Not until later when Lucifer revealed himself. And then…I'm not sure of all that happened. I remember glimpses, but it's like there was a fog hanging over me. Amara—the Darkness—captured Lucifer at one point. She tortured him. Us. Sam and Dean rescued him, but my own injuries were too severe."

Bobby leaned back and ran a hand down his beard. "Jeez. Well, uh, my condolences."

Castiel tried to shrug off the sentiment. "I knew from the beginning I would likely die as a result of this. But I couldn't help in the fight against the Darkness any other way. I just…was expecting death to be oblivion again. I'm…not sure what to make of this." He roved his gaze around the room. Its tranquility could either be calming or nerve-wracking. Perhaps both.

Bobby appeared to mull that over for a minute. "So, you think Sam and Dean have a chance working with Lucifer?"

"And God. Apparently he finally came back." A lump settled in Castiel's throat, threatening to choke him. How many times had he prayed for guidance, for help? How long had he been a dutiful and faithful angel? And God had never answered him.

Worthless.

Expendable.

Forgotten.

Right, Castiel had committed so many sins. Of course his father would want nothing to do with him. Or maybe that's why Castiel was here now, in Heaven's holding area. God had plans to punish him after the threat of Amara was taken care of.

He felt Bobby's gaze boring into him again, and forced himself to smooth his expression before looking up. "If I'm given the chance, I will plead your case, that you be allowed to return to your personal heaven. I'll take full responsibility for breaking Metatron out."

Bobby's jaw worked for a moment, and then he shook his head. "Don't you think you've been a martyr enough lately?"

"On the contrary. I have nothing left to lose."

Bobby didn't look very pleased, but he dropped the subject. "The one thing this place does have is a chess set. I assume you know how to play."

Castiel quirked a dubious brow. "You want to…play chess while we wait for judgement?"

Bobby got to his feet. "Why, you got something better to do?"

Castiel opened his mouth to say something about reflecting upon one's transgressions in order to show true contrition when the time came, but he changed his mind and stood up as well. Doing penance hadn't worked out for him in the past, anyway.

Bobby led the way into the other room, which was just a smaller version of the first one, though it had a hearth against one wall. Instead of a low burning fire, it held a small waterfall that ran down a granite slab and over polished stones, rippling in a soothing cadence. There was a chess set already laid out on a small table set between two white chairs. The pieces were pure ivory and black onyx.

"You wanna be white?" Bobby asked.

"I believe that color suits you more than it does me," he replied dryly.

Bobby huffed as he took a seat in front of the ivory side. "Self-deprecation doesn't become you."

Castiel sat across from him. "Ask any of the angels and they will tell you the same. I believe I am now more hated than even Lucifer."

Bobby moved a pawn forward two squares. "You know what they say, if people hate you, you must be doing something right."

Castiel frowned. "I believe the actual quote is, 'If nobody hates you, you're doing something wrong.' And it's from a character on the television show House, not a common colloquialism." He moved a pawn up one space.

"You've watched House?" Bobby asked incredulously.

"Yes." Castiel didn't really feel like elaborating on his binge watching experience. "It's your move."

Bobby scowled and moved another pawn. Castiel copied the action, and then Bobby moved his rook. The game continued in silence for a while, and Castiel was somewhat pleasantly surprised to find that Bobby was a skilled opponent, and staying focused on the board required more mental effort than Castiel had given in…well, a long time. It was good to feel active again, though. Almost like his old self.

"It's so quiet in here," Bobby eventually said. "The world could be ending out there and we'd have no idea about it."

"That's not true." Castiel moved his bishop and captured one of Bobby's pawns. "If Amara wins, she'll destroy everything, including Heaven. Then we'll all just be…nothing."

"Well, aren't you a bucket of sunshine," Bobby muttered.

Castiel glanced down at the ivory pawn he still held in his hand. It looked like an angel. Uniform soldiers lined up in a row. Knock one down and there are plenty more to take its place.

"Cas," Bobby's gruff voice snapped.

He jerked his head up to find the old hunter watching him with a shrewdness that made Castiel uncomfortable. He quickly set the pawn down and attempted to school his expression, though the look in Bobby's eye suggested the old man wasn't buying it.

"Your move again," was all he said, though.

Castiel gratefully returned his attention to the game and tried to keep his tempestuous thoughts from distracting him. After all, he would likely have eternity to dwell on them, but only this moment to enjoy the companionship of an old friend.

o.0.o

Dean stood in the middle of Stull Cemetery where the final showdown between God and Amara had taken place. His limbs felt hollow, his brain stalled as all the adrenaline that'd kept him going through the fight suddenly ran out with Amara's defeat. He lifted a bewildered gaze to his brother. Sam's eyes were wide, but his mouth quirked into a small, relieved smile. They'd done it.

Movement to his right broke the spell, and Dean turned his attention to Lucifer, who appeared to be positively gloating over their victory.

"Whew," Lucifer said with a grin. "That was exhilarating."

Dean scowled. It wasn't like the archangel could claim full credit. It'd taken the armies of Heaven and Hell to take down Amara.

Lucifer turned to Chuck, mouth tightening a fraction. "So, what now, Dad? I go back to ruling Hell and you go back to not giving a damn?"

Chuck let out a forbearing sigh. "Lucifer…" His beard twitched as he seemed to be chewing on words. "I would…like for you to come back to Heaven."

The Devil for once looked completely taken aback. "What, with you?" he snorted.

"Yes," Chuck said.

The two stared at each other for a long moment of tense silence, but then Lucifer slowly straightened his shoulders and gave a terse nod. "Fine. We can see how that goes." He took a step toward Chuck.

Dean blinked in bewilderment and shot a palm up. "Hey, wait a minute. What about Cas?"

Lucifer arched an unperturbed brow. "What about him?"

"Let him go."

Lucifer canted his head, lips twitching as though he were fighting a smile. "Come on, Dean, there's no need to be like that. I did just help save your asses."

Dean clenched his fists. "If you're going back to Heaven, you don't even need a vessel. The only reason Cas said yes was so you could help defeat Amara. That's done, so you can get the hell out of him. You hear me, Cas?" he raised his voice. "Cast that dickwad out!"

Lucifer crossed his arms. "I resent that."

Dean whirled toward Chuck. "We did what you wanted. Now make him give him Cas back."

Chuck's gaze was unnaturally fixated on the ground, and a knot began forming in Dean's stomach.

Lucifer barked out a laugh. "There's no point in me leaving this vessel, since Castiel isn't even inhabiting it anymore."

Dean snapped his gaze back to the Devil. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Lucifer gave him a simpering smile. "He's been dead for days, Dean. It's just little ole me in this body now."

Dean felt the earth drop out from under him. No, that couldn't be…

"You're lying," Sam spoke up, voice choked.

"Come on, Sam, you know I don't lie." Lucifer beamed at them.

Dean swallowed around the tightness in his throat. "When?" Lucifer had taken some hits during the battle, but nothing that serious.

Now Lucifer's eyes positively gleamed with delight. "Shortly after you rescued us from Amara."

Dean exchanged a horrified look with his brother.

"But," Sam stammered, turning an accusing glare on Chuck. "You healed them."

"He healed me," Lucifer interjected, looking triumphantly smug as Chuck continued to avoid eye contact. The archangel tutted. "Poor Castiel died right in front of you all, knowing he'd been forgotten, or at least shelved for the time being. Too bad by the time you remembered to think about him again…" Lucifer paused to glance at his wrist as though checking a watch, "…he'd expired."

Dean's knees shook and he felt like he was going to be sick. He whirled toward Chuck. "You son-of-a-bitch."

"Dean—" Sam's fingers grasped at him, but Dean was already moving, grabbing Chuck by his shirt and shaking him.

"We did everything you wanted! We fought your war with your sister!"

Chuck winced, but didn't raise a hand against him. "I understand you're upset, Dean. But there is a reason for everything."

"Cas has sacrificed everything to save your world! He's given up Heaven, his grace, his vessel, and now his life? He didn't deserve this!" Dean was shaking now and couldn't stop. "I trusted you. I…I actually put faith in you!"

"Castiel didn't deserve to suffer," Chuck countered calmly.

Dean shoved Chuck away from him, afraid he was coming dangerously close to punching God in the face. Sam grabbed his arm and yanked him back a few feet, probably recognizing the same signs and wanting to avoid a knock-down, drag-out with the Big Man. Dean wrenched out of his brother's grip, hot tears burning at the corners of his eyes. He should have known; every time they tried to save the world, they ended up getting screwed one way or the other.

The worst part was that he had been right there. If he had bothered to ask, to demand to speak with Cas just for a minute, Dean could have saved him. Had Cas been aware? Had he watched them gather around the bunker and prepare for war while he slowly burned out? Surrounded by family on both sides and yet completely invisible. Completely alone. Except for Lucifer, who'd probably whispered lies to make Cas's suffering that much worse. And Dean hadn't done anything. He didn't let Cas know he wasn't alone, that Dean wasn't mad at him about the Lucifer thing. Cas didn't…he didn't have to die thinking he meant nothing.

"Why didn't you heal him when you healed Lucifer?" Sam asked, tone more level and reverent than Dean's, but still accusing.

Chuck looked at Dean when he answered. "I let Castiel die so he wouldn't have to suffer through the coming battle. After what Amara did to him…I thought it best to put him somewhere safely out of the way." He paused. "I always intended to bring him back afterward."

Dean's shoulders went rigid, bracing himself against hope. "You'll bring him back?"

Chuck nodded, and then glanced at Lucifer. "I will need that vessel. It was custom made."

Lucifer's eyes flashed with fury, and he tensed as though to flee, but before he could, a bright explosion of light burst from Lucifer's mouth, and Cas's body crumpled to the ground.

Dean stared in bewilderment as Chuck smiled.

"Back in a jiff."

o.0.o

Castiel stared hard at the chess board, concentrating on his next move. He'd lost count of how many games he and Bobby had played. They'd taken a few breaks, puttered about the few rooms that made up the holding area. But there were no doors, and no one responded to the older hunter's shouts and banging on the walls.

The waterfall bubbled in the hearth, soothing over Castiel's nerves. He was almost lulled into a false sense of peace where he didn't have to worry about anything or carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. But it was too similar to how Lucifer's hold over him had been, and so he remained on edge.

Still, there was little he could do here except bide his time.

Bobby suddenly jerked ramrod straight, and Castiel stiffened as he felt a presence behind him.

"This a party now?" Bobby groused.

Castiel slowly turned, and once again found himself dumbfounded by who he saw. "Chuck?"

"The prophet who wrote those damn books about the boys?"

Chuck furrowed his brow. "Hey, those are best-sellers."

Castiel couldn't speak. Something wasn't right here; he could feel it. When Chuck turned his gaze back to Castiel, a jolt of recognition shot all the way to his core.

"You…"

His father nodded. "Yep, it's me."

Castiel swallowed around a suddenly dry mouth. "I don't understand… All this time?"

"Someone wanna clue me in here?" Bobby interrupted.

"Uh, I'm God," Chuck said.

Bobby's eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

"But call me Chuck. I prefer that."

Bobby eyed him suspiciously. "Yeah, no. You expect me to believe you're the Big Boss Man?"

Chuck's expression scrunched up with indignation. "Hey, I like this packaging," he said, gesturing to himself.

Bobby snorted.

Castiel tried to shake off his stupor. "Lucifer said you had come back. Then, has Amara…?"

Chuck's face fell, and he nodded gravely. "She's gone."

Castiel's chest constricted. "Sam and Dean?"

"They're fine. Everything's fine."

"Oh. That's…that's good." Castiel was having difficulty forming words, even coherent thoughts. A million different emotions seemed to be vying for his attention, but he couldn't focus on just one. Which left him feeling oddly numb instead.

Chuck put a hand on Castiel's shoulder. "It's overwhelming, I know."

Castiel stumbled out of his chair and out of reach. Overwhelming? That's all his father had to say to him, after all this time? Castiel clenched his fists, trying to regain some measure of control over his roiling thoughts. "Why are you here?"

"To tie up loose ends." He glanced at Bobby, then back at Castiel. "Sorry for the delay."

Castiel stiffened. "Please, let Bobby return to his personal Heaven. I know he broke the rules, but I take full responsibility for breaking Metatron out. There's no need to punish him."

Chuck looked taken aback. "Oh, I'm not gonna punish him."

"You aren't?" Bobby spoke up.

"Not at all. I'll send you back right now. And hey, there'll be a six-pack waiting in the fridge. On the house."

"Wait."

Chuck cocked his head in question.

Bobby shifted his weight nervously. "What are you gonna do with Cas?"

Castiel blinked at the strangely protective thread running through the old man's voice. "Bobby," he said quietly. "You don't need to worry."

Bobby jabbed a finger at him to shut up, then skewered Chuck—God—with a demanding glare that made Castiel fidget in discomfort. "I know he's made some mistakes. But hell, we all have. And Cas has been a damn better angel than any of your other brats."

Castiel's eyes widened, and he wished Bobby would stop talking. Chuck was letting him go free; he shouldn't test that!

Chuck's mouth quirked. "I know. And I'm not here to punish Castiel either. I'm here to take him back to earth."

"Oh." Bobby tugged at the rim of his baseball cap. "Well, then. Guess that's okay."

Castiel had a sickening feeling that it wasn't, but he kept his mouth shut. Bobby turned to him then, and after an awkward moment, held his hand out for a shake. Castiel took it slowly.

"Take care of yourself. And tell Sam and Dean…tell 'em I'm glad they're okay. And to stop being idgits."

Castiel blinked against tears forming behind his eyes, and forced himself to nod. He doubted he'd get the opportunity to convey the message, but he didn't say so.

Bobby brought his other arm up to clap Castiel on the shoulder. "And stop throwing yourself in front of buses for those two."

Castiel frowned.

Bobby fixed him with a stern glare. "You've watched enough TV to know what I mean."

Castiel nodded again, knowing better than to argue with the man.

Chuck smiled, and with a flick of his finger, Bobby disappeared, leaving Castiel alone in a room with the one person he had yearned to see for so long, and yet now couldn't bring himself to even look at. His shoulders sagged as he waited for judgment to be pronounced.

Chuck crossed his arms. "So, ready to go back? Lucifer's been evicted from your vessel, of course."

Castiel felt an immense heaviness settle over his heart. Another resurrection punishment; what else had he been expecting? Eternity imprisoned in Heaven? Maybe cast down to the Cage now that it was missing one rebellious angel.

"Castiel," Chuck said firmly, followed by a sigh. "The resurrections were never punishments."

Castiel finally looked up, forehead creased in confusion.

Chuck shook his head. "Look, I'm sorry I never answered before. To be a good parent, I had to step away, let you grow up."

Castiel bristled with a flare of indignation. "Grow up?" he repeated. "I nearly destroyed the world. Multiple times!"

"Yeah, you've got gusto," Chuck said with a chuckle.

It only made Castiel angrier. "I needed you! I prayed to you for guidance. All I ever wanted was to do your will. And when I failed, over and over again, you kept bringing me back. Why? You had to know I would continue screwing up."

Chuck's face sobered. "I told you, it wasn't a punishment."

Castiel threw his arms out. "Then why?"

"Because…Sam and Dean needed you."

Castiel felt the fight drain out of him just like that, and he stumbled back a step to sink into a chair. He was so exhausted by everything, he just wanted it to stop. "And I was able to let Lucifer use me as a vessel so the Darkness could be defeated. But that's done now, so there's no more use for me."

Chuck's eyes darkened, and he crossed his arms. "That's not what I meant. Sam and Dean needing you never had anything to do with usefulness."

Castiel raised a hand to cover his eyes. He didn't want to listen to this. He'd seen and heard enough to know differently. It'd been that way for years. He'd just been too foolish to realize it before.

"Knowing you're not there, that you're…" Chuck hesitated. "…well, dead, is tearing them up."

Castiel's heart clenched. Yes, he imagined the Winchesters might feel some grief over his death. But they would get over it. Perhaps it would be an inconvenience not having an angel to turn to in times of need, but it wasn't as though Castiel had been very helpful in that regard for some time now. In fact, Sam and Dean had other resources they could turn to. Crowley wasn't ideal, but he came through at times. Castiel wasn't leaving them high and dry.

"Okay, you're more of a visual learner."

In the blink of an eye, Castiel found himself standing in a field. No, not just any field. Stull Cemetery. Sam and Dean were several feet away, Dean pacing in agitation while Sam sat on the ground next to…Castiel's empty vessel.

A rock dropped into his stomach, and he whirled around to find Chuck standing next to him, watching grimly.

"See?"

Castiel looked back, and realized they must be invisible, because neither Winchester reacted to their arrival. In fact, he and Chuck weren't even on the same plane, for there were wispy edges along the ground and sky.

"Dammit," Dean muttered, voice slightly muffled as though traveling through some kind of sound dampener. He pivoted to stalk back across the grass again. "What's taking so long?"

Sam picked at a blade of grass, casting worried glances at the body's lax face.

Chuck's voice was soft at his side. "You can go home now."

Castiel's throat constricted. He wanted to, part of him desperately wanted to. How long now had he considered the Winchesters more home than Heaven? How long had he loved them as family in a way his angel brothers hadn't expressed since before Lucifer's fall? But despite that longing, another part of him—one that had been growing in conviction more and more—just wanted to stop. To stop screwing things up. To stop being used up and cast aside. To just rest.

Castiel's voice barely came out a whisper. "Please…if…if I'm truly not being punished, then please can't I just have peace in death? I'm…" His voice cracked, and he turned pleading eyes toward his father. "I'm too tired to fight anymore."

Chuck gazed back at him sadly. "Are you sure that's what you really want?"

Castiel couldn't help but look at Sam and Dean again. They were safe and unharmed. That's all Castiel had ever wanted for them. And while they would grieve for a short time, they would find the resolve to move on. They always did.

Castiel turned his gaze away and whispered, "Yes."

Chuck gave a measured nod, and lifted a hand to snap his fingers. Castiel closed his eyes to brace himself, but instead of any version of death he'd experienced before, there was only a vibration on the air as the plane shifted. Castiel heard a sharp intake of breath, and his eyes flew open to find Dean holding his arms out for balance and blinking in disorientation. Then the hunter's eyes gradually focused, and landed straight on Castiel. His heart jolted with panic.

"Cas," Dean breathed. He frowned at the shaded edges of the cemetery before glancing at Sam, who leaped to his feet and started shooting frantic looks between Castiel and the vessel still lying on the ground. Dean's eyes narrowed on Chuck. "What's going on?"

"Castiel has decided not to return," Chuck said casually, but the words were like a knife in Castiel's heart.

"Father," he choked. "Don't do this…"

Chuck merely canted his head. "I thought you'd like the chance to say goodbye this time."

With that, he disappeared, leaving Castiel stunned by yet more hurt and betrayal. Chuck had lied; this was a far worse punishment than anything Castiel could have imagined.

"What the hell is he talking about?" Dean demanded.

Castiel's shoulders sagged, and he wished he could sink into the earth and disappear. "Dean…" He forced himself to look up. The anger on Dean's face was expected, though there was also a glimmer of fear.

"Cas, what the hell did Chuck mean you decided not to come back?"

He looked away again, unfortunately catching the look of disbelief and hurt on Sam's face as well.

"Are you…staying in Heaven?" Sam asked tentatively.

Castiel slowly shook his head. "Dead angels don't go to Heaven."

The ensuing silence was a palpable throb.

"You…" Dean finally stammered. "You're talking about staying dead? What the hell, man?"

"I'm sorry, Dean," Castiel said. He hadn't thought he could feel more wrecked than when he'd given himself over to Lucifer. "Chuck shouldn't have…I don't know why he'd be so cruel."

"He said he'd bring you back!"

Castiel flinched against the fury wafting off of Dean.

"Cas," Sam interjected, taking a cautious step closer. "I don't understand… Why?"

He refused to meet their eyes. "I'm used up. I'm sorry, Sam, but I just…I can't…I have nothing left to give you."

He heard Dean inhale sharply, and braced himself for an explosion. But instead of a verbal thrashing, he was suddenly engulfed in a fervent hug that almost knocked the breath from him. Castiel froze, arms hanging awkwardly at his sides.

Dean squeezed tighter. "You stupid son-of-a-bitch," he uttered shakily. "Is that why you said yes to Lucifer?"

Castiel's throat constricted, a sensation he was beginning to loathe. "You shouldn't have had to risk losing Sam again."

"As opposed to losing you?"

"I'm expendable." The words fell from his mouth like brittle chaff before he could stop them.

Dean abruptly pulled back. "You are not," he said with a level of conviction Castiel hadn't heard since Dean had declared he wasn't leaving Purgatory without him.

"I wasn't needed in the fight against Amara. I thought I could be useful, giving you Lucifer, but it turned out my presence wasn't even required after I'd given him permission."

Dean's eyes glistened, and he dropped his hands to dig his fingers into Castiel's arms. "I wanted you back. I didn't care if Lucifer was our best shot against Amara; we would have found another way. When he said you were dead…" Dean's voice choked off.

"I'm sorry he hurt you."

Dean shook his head, laughing bitterly. "God, Cas…when you…" His throat bobbed. "Did you see? Did you see that we tried to save you? If I had known Chuck hadn't healed you with Lucifer…" Dean gave himself a rough shake again. "He said it was so you wouldn't be in danger in the final battle. And I was pissed about it, except that it meant you were finally safe. But Cas…it's over now. The world for once isn't ending, so please, don't give up on us now." Dean dropped his gaze. "I know I don't deserve a second chance. And if you want to get away from us, I'd understand. But please, Cas, don't give up living because of me."

Castiel's hand twitched as he finally lifted it to clutch Dean's arm in return. "I hung on for so long because of you, Dean. For you and Sam."

"Then come back."

Castiel squeezed his eyes shut against the deluge of emotion threatening to drown him. He would do it, of course he would. He would always do whatever Dean asked. But it felt like a defeat…like a punishment.

"Cas," Sam spoke up, and when Castiel looked, the younger Winchester's eyes were also suspiciously moist. "I'm sorry. We should have fought harder for you."

He frowned. "In what?"

Sam's face fell even further, if that were possible. "To get you back. We could have found Lucifer another vessel…" He ducked his gaze then in something like shame, though Castiel didn't understand the reason for it. When Sam lifted his head, there was remorse and staunch resolve. "We should have tried harder to make sure you never ended up feeling expendable and useless."

"You can't deny facts," Castiel started, but cut off when Dean's fingernails once again dug into his arms.

"Those aren't facts," he spat. "You want facts? You're family, Cas. That means no matter what, you don't get left behind, or sacrificed, or thrown out because you're wounded and hurting. It means Sam and I need you because you not being in the bunker, not being a phone call away, left a friggin' hole in my chest. I didn't want you back for your powers. Hell, even if God brought you back human right this second, I would still have you. Cursed or not, angel or not. Just you."

Castiel's mouth pressed into a tight line. "Even if…I'm still broken?"

Dean pulled him into a hug again. "Even then. Always. And I'll help you, Cas. I know I haven't done a good job in the past, being too wrapped up in my own shit. But I'll do better, I promise. Just don't…I can't lose you again."

Castiel slowly lifted his arms to return the embrace. Sam's hand settled on his shoulder and squeezed in an affirmation of solidarity. He let out a shuddering breath. "Alright."

Dean's arms tightened for a moment before he drew back again, looking relieved. "Okay. I guess we should call Chuck…"

"No need," Chuck interrupted, appearing behind them. "So, Castiel, finished with goodbyes?"

Castiel glanced once more at Dean and Sam, both of whom waited with hopeful yet nervous anticipation. He mustered the energy to draw his shoulders back and speak levelly. "No, I've…changed my mind. I would like to go home."

There was a knowing twinkle in Chuck's eyes. "Glad to hear it."

He held a palm out, and Castiel felt something take hold of his core and tug. He gasped more in surprise than pain, and then the world was twisting around him into shards of rainbow slivers and silver haze. That ember that'd been nestled deep stirred to life, flaring up into a flare of restored grace.

The next thing Castiel knew, he was lying on the hard ground and blinking up at a blue sky. Sam's and Dean's faces entered his field of vision at the same time, gazing down at him in concern.

"Cas?"

"Hello, Dean." His voice came out a little more raspy than usual, and there was a dull ache in his limbs from not having been in control of them for a long while. But he felt oddly…whole. Or, at least not as frayed as he had been before.

Arms reached under his shoulder blades and hauled him into an upright position.

"You okay?" Sam asked.

Castiel managed to nod. "It's…disorienting."

"Yeah, I can imagine," the younger Winchester replied with a small smile. "Welcome back."

Castiel tipped his head up to look at Chuck, who was gazing at them with something Castiel might call fondness, but didn't dare label. "Thank you," Castiel said meekly.

Chuck just smiled. "You know, even though you guys tore up the script and rewrote your destinies a long time ago, this—" He gestured to the three of them. "—was always meant to be the story."

They exchanged looks with each other, and when they glanced back, Chuck had gone.

"Dude's not good with goodbyes, is he?" Dean muttered.

"No," Castiel agreed. But then, this time it didn't quite feel so permanent.

"Ready to go home?" Dean asked.

Castiel's heart swelled at the word. "Yes, please."

They had a lot to talk about, a lot to work through. Castiel knew the task would be daunting, but for the first time in what seemed a very, very long time, he thought he might have the strength to face it. Especially with Sam and Dean by his side.