AUTHOR'S NOTE: So I swear I wanted to get the story further along than this, but basically ended up writing an expanded version of moments in "Dark Side of the Moon". My muse was being a bitch and wouldn't let me skip ahead, but I had fun doing this. More plot progression soon, I swear! In the meantime, enjoy.

The next few weeks were a blur for Dean. Between trying to track down the horsemen and looking for ways to stop the apocalypse, keeping his mind off Cas should've been easy. Instead, he spent most of his days half-expecting the angel to appear just behind his shoulder, or around the corner. Every time he heard his phone ring, he wanted to flip it open and hear Castiel on the other end of the line. And when they were fighting those damn zombies up by Bobby's…seeing the way Bobby and the other townspeople were willing to do anything just for a chance at being with the people they loved again reminded him of what he would do – had done, in fact – for Sammy. Of what I'd do for Cas, too, if he needed it. He pushed the thought away almost angrily. Anger. He wasn't mad at the angel, not really; he was mad at himself, for starting this mess. For letting things go too far, and for possibly ruining what friendship they had. Was it really worth jeopardizing that for something that, honestly, was never gonna happen? See, Deano?, he told himself. Shit like this is why you avoid chick-flick moments. They never end well. But even sarcasm couldn't make this situation feel any better, or make him think about Cas any less.

Which is why, when he found himself held at gunpoint by Roy, holding Dean's own shotgun – Sonofabitch is ballsy, I'll give him that – his first thought was of Castiel. Specifically, of how useful it would be to have someone with some heavenly mojo around right about now. As things were, he figured he'd just try and talk the two angry hunters into at least putting the guns down. "Well, is it just me, or do you two seem a tad upset?"

It was Walt who opened his mouth next, ignoring Dean and talking to Sam instead.

"You think you can flip the switch on the Apocalypse and just walk away, Sam?"

"Who told you that?" Sam's voice was small, as if he was trying to keep the months of guilt from coming through.

"We ain't the only hunters after you." The shotgun pumped, ready to fire. "See you in the next life."

Sam dropped the show now, panicking, "Hear me out. I can explain! Please."

For a moment, Dean was sure it would work. These guys were hunters. They killed things, not people. Of course, as soon as he thought that, he remembered his own words to Sam the year before. If I didn't know you, I would want to hunt you. You're a monster. He winced inwardly, remembering those months. But he had Sam back now, and he was damned if he was gonna lose his little brother again to some no-name, backwoods-

BANG. Sam was down. He was gone. He was lying there, motionless on the crappy motel bed, blood pouring through the holes Walt had blown in his big flannel shirt. Always so big. I don't know when he grew up so much, kid's a damn Sasquatch now- A million thoughts ran through his head, about Sam, about the last time he'd died, bringing him back, the aftermath, the hellhounds, Alastair, the pain, the damn Apocalypse – he couldn't be gone now. Not when they were this close. And more importantly, Dean couldn't have failed again. Taking care of Sammy was the one thing he always did, the one things he was good at. Dean was numb. He heard Roy telling him to stay, heard Walt saying he had to be killed –

"You want to spend the rest of your life knowing Dean Winchester's on your ass? Cause I don't." Damn right, you don't, you little prick.

"Go ahead, Roy. Do it. But I'm gonna warn you – when I come back, I'm gon' be pissed." Roy, hesitated, his finger on the trigger. "Come on! Let's get this show on the road."

Dean was dreaming. He was in the front seat of the Impala, and Knockin' on Heaven's Door was playing through the speakers. He got out of the car and walked off the road – and it was the 4th of July, 1996, and he was dicking around with Sammy, lighting fireworks in an empty field. They were laughing, and they were happy in that moment, just two normal brothers having some fun in the middle of the night.

"Dad would never let us do anything like this. Thanks Dean; this is great." Sam gave him a tight hug before running off to light the fireworks. He saw Sam smiling, running through the sparks and light, happy - then he closed his eyes, and saw a 28 year old Sam, shot and dead and bleeding – and when he opened his eyes again, the field was empty. Dean made his way back to the car. He needed to sit down and figure out what the Hell was going on. Dammit, he needed a drink. He leaned on his Baby and looked out into the night, trying to figure out his next move, when the radio turned on by itself:

"Dean." He started. He almost didn't believe what he was hearing – but of course, Cas would be in his dream. Typical of the bastard…he flies off for weeks and then shows up in my fuckin head. I am not gonna let myself miss him. Keep cool.

"Cas?"

"Yeah, it's me."

Dean got in the driver's seat, pulling the door shut behind him. He stared at the radio, not sure what to do. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many words that he'd thought of since he last saw the angel – Since I last kissed the angel – and now, he was just drawing a blank. So Dean Winchester did what he always did, and replaced feelings with sarcasm.

"You gotta stop pokin' around in my dreams, man. I need some me time."

"Listen to me, very closely. This isn't a dream."

"Then what is it?"

"Deep down, you already know." Cas, why do you gotta be so cryptic all the time? But then Dean thought about it, really thought, and he remembered. Roy, Walt, the motel, the guns – Sammy. Wait, they shot – "I'm dead."

"Condolences." Dean almost wanted to smile at that. I guess being around a wiseass like me is startin' to rub off on him.

"Where am I?"

"Heaven."

"Heaven?" Dean looked around again. All he saw was darkness, and forest, and an empty back road, but if Castiel said it was Heaven, he'd take his word for it. It's not like I wanted the virgins, anyway. And harps annoy the crap outta me. Of course, this raised a more important question. "How did I get to Heaven?"

"Please, listen – this call, this connection, it's difficult to maintain."

Something occurred to Dean, in that moment. "Well, if I'm in Heaven – then where's Sam?"

"Tell me, what do you see?"

"What do you mean, what do I see?"

"Some people see a tunnel, or a river. What do you see?"

"N-nothing. My dash, I'm in my car, I'm on a road."

"Alright, a road. For you, it's a road. Follow it, Dean. You'll find Sam. Follow the road." And then the radio died, Cas was gone, and Dean felt suddenly alone. Follow the road…what is this, the Wizard of Oz? But it's not like he had a better plan, so Dean revved up the Impala and went off to find Sam. And he did – at some family's Thanksgiving dinner, playing footsies with some middle school chick with a bulky knit sweater and braces. And since he was relieved to see his little brother alive and in one piece – well, technically dead, he corrected himself – he showed his love in the true Winchester brother fashion: mocking abuse. He walked inside and looked at Sam with his best "God, you are just such a loser" face.

"Wow. Just…wow."

"Dean? What are you doing in my dream?"

After giving Sam the skinny on the whole Heaven deal, they were trying to decide what to do next, when the house started shaking and lights swept the outside of the house, like there was a team of cops searching for runaways or something. Now that brings back memories, Dean thought, remembering a time when Henderson and the FBI were the biggest bad guys in his life. Now, things are getting freaky, even by our standards. Where the hell's Cas? Dean looked around the room, trying to figure out a way to get in touch with the angel. Radio – perfect. He tried to turn it on, whacking the damn thing, and calling "Cas. Cas? Cas!"

Sam scoffed. "Dean, what are you doing?"

"What does it look like?"

"Like you've lost your mind."

Oh, Sammy. The kid always needed everything spelled out for him. "Cas talked to me before using this – this phone-home radio thing, so I – Cas!"

"I can hear you." And with that, the TV turned on, and Dean could make out Castiel's face. As always, Dean felt a sense of relief wash over him, just knowing the angel was somehow there.

"Cas! Hey. So I – so I found Sam, but something just happened. There was this weird…beam of light."

"Don't go into the light."

"OK…thanks, Carol Ann. What is it?"

"Not what – who. It's Zachariah. He's searching for you."

"And if he finds us?" Sam piped in.

"You can't say yes to Michael and Lucifer if you're dead, so Zachariah needs to return you to your bodies."

"Great! Problem solved!"

"No, you don't understand! You could – you're behind the wall. This is a rare opportunity."

"For what?" Dean asked.

"You need to find an angel. His name is Joshua."

That was it. First Cas prances off, then he shows up on Angel radio, and now he's trying to give them orders, and not once has he bothered to ask Dean if he was OK. "Hey man, no offense, but we're kinda ass-full of angels, OK? You find him."

"I can't. I can't return to Heaven."

"So what's so important about Joshua?" Sam asked.

"The rumor is – he talks to God."

"And? So?" Dean failed to see why this was such a big deal. Angel, talks to God. Sounded about right. Dean was surprised to hear frustration and barely veiled angers in Castiel's response:

"You think maybe – just maybe, we should find out what the hell God has been saying?" So Cas wasn't Mr. Calm-and-collected after all. Interesting.

"Geez, touchy."

"Please. I just need you to follow the road. It's the called the Axis Mundi. It's a path that runs through Heaven. Different people see it as different things. For you, it's two-lane asphalt." Not surprising, considering we pretty much live on the road, thought Dean. The road will lead you to the garden. You will find Joshua there – and Joshua can take us to God. Hurry. Please – hurry." And he was gone again.

"God wants you to remember."

And with a touch of Joshua's fingers to his forehead, Dean felt himself…shifting. He opened his eyes and sat up sharply in bed, gasping for air. Bed. Room. No more garden. He was back in the motel room. He heard Sam come to on the other bed, ask Dean if he was alright.

"Define 'alright'." He was back, Sam was back – and he felt like someone had punched a hole in his gut and rubbed in some rock salt for their big finish. Joshua's words were still clear in his head. God knows what's going on. He knows everything – he just doesn't think it's His problem. He wants you to back off. God had been their final, last-ditch effort, and He just did not care. What are we gonna do? And then he remembered something else. What am I gonna tell Cas? Dean had never really believed in God anyway, so this wasn't a personal letdown for him – it was more of a "Well, I was supposed to save the world but now it's royally boned so I need some help but He didn't come through" type of thing. But for Castiel…this was his Father, and Dean knew exactly how much that had to hurt.

Castiel paced back and forth on the empty rooftop; he knew Dean would be doing his utmost to find Joshua, and a way to God. A way to his Father. Of the whole heavenly Host, few had ever spoken to God, and only four had ever actually seen Him. Castiel had taken everything he had been taught about his Father on faith, like all his brothers and sisters – but now that he had rebelled and was beginning to question everything, that faith was becoming harder and harder to hold on to. And yet, Dean had managed to remain a constant throughout this tumult, someone he could rely on, and believe in. If anyone could help Castiel find God, it was him.

It was not long before his cellular telephone rang, and Castiel answered it immediately, almost dropping the device in his impatience.

"Dean? Where are you?" The moment he had received the hunter's location, he transported himself directly into their room. He snapped the phone shut and faced the brothers. Up until this moment, he had hoped that the news would be good – that Joshua had given them God's location, or a hint, or a word of encouragement, at the very least. But he knew Dean, and the expression on his face was not a promising one.

"Cas, it's -" he paused, as if searching for the right words, before exhaling deeply. His shoulders slumped, as if that breath had held the last bit of hope he had left. "I'm sorry. We found Joshua, but he said that God- that God knows, He knows everything, but He doesn't think it's his problem. He wants us to back off. "

No. No, that can't be right. My Father is good, and loving, and caring, and – "It does not matter, Dean. I still have the amulet, he can still-"

"No, Cas. Joshua covered that one, too. He said, if God doesn't wanna be found, then no way are we gonna find him, amulet or no amulet."

"I do not- I cannot-" Castiel leaned back against the wall, trying to process this, to collect his thoughts. "Maybe- maybe Joshua was lying." It was Sam who responded, since Dean had been concerning himself with the packing, and not meeting Castiel's gaze, or even acknowledging the angel's presence.

"I don't think he was, Cas. I'm sorry."

That was when it hit him. The confusion, the sense of betrayal and abandonment, the sheer anger he felt for this Father, the one who was meant to be all-loving and compassionate. He straightened himself up and turned heavenward, his ice-blue gaze filled with righteous anger, as if daring God to challenge him. But that would be blasphemy, said a small voice in the back of his mind, a reflex from millennia of service and obedience. If this is blasphemy, then let me be damned, he thought back. Then we would at least have some proof that God cares about any of this at all. "You sonofabitch. I believed in-" He stopped, unable to finish. He had believed, so much, for so long – and it had all been for nothing. He turned and took a step towards Dean, trying to think of what to say. There were countless things he'd been wanting to tell the hunter for weeks, but now was not the time. So Castiel simply pulled the amulet out of his pocket and tossed it carelessly at him, ignoring the worry in the hunter's gaze. I don't need your pity, Dean.

"I don't need this anymore. It's worthless." Ignoring Sam's call for him to wait, the angel disappeared with a flutter of wings.