[Fic] Thursday's Child (12/12)

Author: WynterEyez

Fandom: Supernatural

Rating: T

Characters/Pairings: Dean Winchester, Castiel, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, Dean/Castiel

Beta: None, though that would've been a damn good idea, don't you think?

Spoilers: AU after 'The Man Who Would Be King,' contains spoilers for 'The Man Who Knew Too Much.'

Disclaimer: I don't own them, obviously.

Warnings: Mentions of violence and gore. References to past mpreg (I can't believe I'm doing this…), discussion of the smiting of a Nephil baby. Also, a reread of this chapter shows I use the word 'fuck' a lot. Oh, well.

Summary: Castiel brings a surprise home to Dean. It's gooey. And has tentacles.

Chapter Summary: In which the thing with feathers that perches on the soul also has tentacles.

A/N: So. Yeah. It's been YEARS since I last updated, and I feel terrible for that. Shortly after posting chapter eleven, I got a new job and it just… it destroyed me. I haven't written, I haven't drawn anything, I haven't done anything remotely creative. I learned the meaning of a 'toxic job', and I've been dealing with anxiety and depression pretty much the entire time. I'm taking steps to fix my life, and now that I'm healing, my creativity i returning.

Twelve - Far To Go

Infiltrating Crowley's lair is easy. Alarmingly so.

The plan is for them to split up, with Dean and Bobby going in the front door and hopefully being enough of a nuisance that they keep Crowley and Raphael distracted until the narrow timeframe in which the ritual can be performed passes, while Sam is to take another way in and make his way to where Danielle and Castiel are being held, assuming neither of them are present for the ritual, and escape with them. And then they're all going to run like hell, because taking out the King of Hell and an archangel isn't an option.

As plans go, they've had more desperate ones.

Sam slips around to the back of the abandoned hospital without encountering any sentries. When they'd scouted the building during the day, there'd been demonic guards patrolling the grounds but now? It's quiet. Empty. Sam's senses are strained to the limit, waiting for the inevitable trap to spring, but he makes it undetected to the rear door, and quickly picks the padlock.

When the door doesn't open into an ambush, Sam's feeling of trepidation only intensifies. Crowley's not stupid; he has to know that he and Dean are going to attempt a rescue. So where are the guards?

He gets his answer a moment later, when a muffled thud echoes down the corridor. Sam slips through the shadows towards the sound and finds a man's body slumped against the wall, eye sockets gaping empty. There's still smoke rising from the bloody sockets. Sam raises his head just in time to see someone round a corner, and another hears another thump a moment later.

An angel is making its way through the dark passageway, taking out every demon it encounters before they can draw the breath to scream a warning.

That's why Sam's having such an easy time of it, this angel has cleared a path for him.

It must be a coup; Raphael is using the distraction of the ritual to move against Crowley. Which means Sam won't have to worry about demons, at least. He's glad he'd chosen to arm himself with an angel blade rather than Ruby's knife.

The angel's path is sure, unwavering; it knows exactly where it's going, and it's not to the upper level where Dean and Bobby have hopefully have begun their distraction. This angel has another mission, and Sam suspects if he follows, it will lead him to Cas and Danielle.

Sam keeps his distance, hoping the angel's single-mindedness combined with the warding branded into his ribs and his own stealth will keep him hidden long enough to find the captives.

His pursuit pays off; moments later, the angel pauses at one of the metal doors lining the corridor, blasting it open with a touch. Sam ducks around a corner before the angel can spot him, then sprints to the open doorway as quietly as he can.

There's a muffled sobbing, something young and terrified and heartbroken. Danielle. Now that Sam has located her, and the angel has taken out most of the demons in the way, it's time to take care of the angel. He quickly slices his palm and sketches out an angel banishing sigil to the right of the doorframe, far enough away that Danielle is out of range. Castiel had said he didn't think they'd affect her, but Sam's not taking any chances. As soon as the last symbol is complete, Sam yells out.

The angel is on him immediately, appearing from out of nowhere in a blur of motion. If Sam hadn't been expecting it, he'd have been impaled by the angel's downward slash of his blade. But his bleeding palm had been hovering over the center of the sigil, and the moment the angel had come into view, he slams it to the wall.

There's an explosion of light and a the terrible true-voice scream as the angel is forced off this plane of existence, which causes Dani's wails to rise in terror.

He's never heard her cry before.

He never wants to hear it again.

Danielle is huddled in the corner of what looks like a small dog crate at the center of a ring of holy fire. Her eyes are tightly squeezed shut, her downy wings spread and covering as much of her body as possible. She's too far back for Sam to reach, and the cage door is too narrow for him to fit through. She'll have to come to him.

Sam sacrifices his holy water to douse enough of the fire to create a gap large enough for him and Dani, then sets to work picking the lock of the cage. Fortunately, it's a simple padlock, rather than something magical, and Sam quickly springs it and opens the door.

"Dani?" he whispers. "Dani, it's Uncle Sam!"

Danielle's only response is to draw her tentacles more tightly around herself, and her wailing intensifies. "It's me, Dani!"

It's not working. She's too lost in her misery to really hear him. But he doesn't want to tip the cage and dump her out; that would only scare her further. He has to coax her to open her eyes, to know it's her Uncle Sam here to rescue her.

Oh, hell… what if she doesn't even know him as 'Uncle Sam?' They've never really used the name around her before.

"Please, Little Peep? It's… it's Aunt Sammy!" Dean is never going to hear of this. Ever.

Especially since it works. Her sobs choke off, and several eyes pop open. When she recognizes him, she squawks and throws herself across the cage into his open arms. Sam immediately pulls her to his chest and she nuzzles into his neck, wailing. "I know, baby, I know… I missed you, too."

He wishes he could take the time to soothe her fears and cuddle her until she's her normal happy self, but they need to find Castiel before one of Raphael's soldiers gets to him.

"Hey, it'll be all right now," he croons softly, cradling her close and praying that he isn't lying. He strokes her until her cries die down, and she trembles silently in his arms. "I need you to hold on tight, okay? I need my arms free to fight, but I'll be right here, and I won't let anyone take you away." He has no idea how much Danielle understands, but he knows she's good at clinging on. She wraps her tentacles around his neck and chest, not tight enough to be uncomfortable, and it doesn't inhibit his movement as much as he'd expected. "Such a smart girl," Sam murmurs as he frees one hand to yank the angel blade free from the cooling corpse. "Now, let's go find your parents."

Sam systematically searches the entire basement level, but finds nothing except two more dead demons. There's no sign that anyone else has been imprisoned down here. So Castiel is either being held on the upper level, or he's with Crowley and Raphael so they can gloat about their victory.

He pauses at the foot of the stairs, weighing the risks. If Castiel is indeed bearing witness to the ritual, then Dean will stop at nothing to free him, and Sam will have endangered Danielle for nothing. He doesn't like the thought of bringing Dani so close to danger, but what if Castiel isn't with the others, is instead locked in some cell, and gets left behind when they retreat? They can't take that chance.

That's when he feels it. It starts as a prickling sensation at the back of his neck and builds until it sings through his body. He can feel it in his blood, his very bones, crashing through him like a tidal wave and leaving him shivering in its wake.

Danielle's wings flare in reaction, before she wraps them tightly about herself and tries to burrow into Sam's chest.

It's magic. Powerful magic.

Ritual magic. Fuck.

They're too late; it has to be the door to Purgatory opening.

For a long moment there's a silence so absolute that it's as if the world is holding its breath. Even Sam's own breaths are muted; if he hadn't been able to feel Danielle's trembling body against his, he'd have thought she'd stopped breathing altogether.

Sam recognizes this silence. It's that unnatural stillness, as if the whole world is holding its breath, that precedes disaster. The dead calm before a truly epic storm.

That's when the screaming begins. Terrified. Drawn out. The sound of an agonizing, prolonged death. It sounds like a massacre.

And it's heading right towards them.

Sam doesn't stay to greet this new horror; he sprints towards an open door and puts his shoulder to it, forcing the rusted hinges to close. The door jams and refuses to shut completely, leaving a narrow strip of hallway visible.

Sam's about to give the door one last shove when a shadow slips along the wall across the way, and he freezes. He holds his breath, and wishes he could quiet the frantic beating of his heart.

Danielle is unnaturally still and silent, as though she, too, senses the danger they're in. They wait as the shadow grows, filling the hallway and plunging it into unnatural darkness. Sam tries to step further back into the darkness of the room, but his body refuses to obey his commands. Frozen, he's unable to pull his gaze away from the approaching horror.

And then it passes the doorway.

It's as though his eyes slide right off the being, as though the sight is so terrible he wouldn't survive it, and his brain is trying to protect him. The air ripples in its wake, leaving Sam with an impression of eyes and mouths and a darkness that swallows all light.

It reminds him what he'd glimpsed of the light released from the Ark, but not… like a negative image.

Whatever it is, it's now between him and the operating theater above. Sam has no choice but to backtrack and go out the back entrance, circling the building in the hope he can reach Dean and Bobby before it does.

And God, he hopes Castiel isn't being held somewhere along that nightmare's path…

The moment it rounds a corner and is out of Sam's line of sight, the paralysis releases its grip on him, and Sam slumps against the wall, heart pounding. Danielle shifts in his arms, reminding him that he can't stay there and hide, that they need to get moving.

When the screaming starts up again (how many demons could possibly be here?) Sam uses the sound as cover to fling open the door and run like hell back down the hallway. He rounds a corner, then skids to a halt at the sight before him.

Bodies. A lot of them. He'd expected to find some, of course, but… not like this. These were victims of shocking violence; heads and limbs have been ripped off, flesh torn through like tissue paper, blood splashed against stone. What the hell had Raphael unleashed that could tear through demons with such savagery?

"Close your eyes, Little Peep," he whispers to the Nephil. Even if she doesn't understand, she doesn't need to see this.

Sam cautiously approaches the first body and carefully steps around its twisted limbs. Its head, lying three feet from its neck, still wears an expression of frozen horror. The light is still fading from its eyes; the kill is fresh.

Sam doesn't glance at the second body, not wanting to see its torment.

And then he reaches the third body, and realizes it's different than the others.

It's not one of Crowley's men. What Sam had first taken for shadow crunches beneath his boots. Ash puffs around his feet as he steps through the imprint of an immense charred wing. Danielle's grip tightens around his neck, and he can see her squeeze her eyes shut. He rests a hand atop her, feeling her tremble beneath his touch.

Demons and angels. Whatever is cutting a swath of destruction, it isn't on anyone's side, killing indiscriminately and violently.

Again, Sam's instincts tell him he should run, run fast and far, because this is not something a baby should be dragged into.

But whatever is, it's heading towards the operating theaters, towards where Sam suspects the ritual has gone down. Towards Dean and Bobby, who are unaware of the new threat heading their way. Sam just hopes he can warn them in time.

~oOo~

Crowley - or what Dean assumes is Crowley, since a normal demon smoke cloud isn't usually that big - finds them before Dean and Bobby can even make their move. They'd stopped to let Sam out to make his way around back, and are just circling around towards the front when the wind kicks up, carrying with it sibilant whispers that is not the rustling of tree branches.

"That ain't natural," Bobby says unnecessarily as a black cloud flows over the moon, its immense size briefly eclipsing the light.

Dean and Bobby can only brace themselves as the oily black cloud grabs hold of the Impala and flips it over. Teeth like jagged glass and claws as sharp as razors dig gouges in the metal frame, and the windshield shatters under the assault. Dean tries to move as far from the window as he can, but an oily black tendril wraps around his waist and hauls him none too gently through the windshield.

Behind him, he can hear Bobby swearing as they hook him as well, then the ground spirals away as they ascend to the top of the building, then execute a dizzying spiral through a hole in a skylight that looks far too narrow for a human to fit through.

If anyone asks, Dean's going to say the girly shriek came from Bobby.

They're dumped on the cold concrete floor and are immediately surrounded by a trio of demons. Still disoriented from flying Demon Air (Dean will never, ever complain about travel-by-angel ever again), he doesn't even have the strength to fight back when the demons jump him, pinning his arms behind his back and forcing him to his knees. Bobby's no better off.

"You're late," Crowley says as the smoke dissipates, revealing his original meat suit. He brushes something off his lapel (probably imaginary dust - Crowley's enough of a douche that he'd do it just for effect) and continues, "I was worried we were going to have to do the ritual without your obnoxious commentary."

"Yeah, well, I guess our invitations were lost in the mail," Dean snarls. "Lucky we decided to crash the party."

Crowley suddenly frowns and scans the gloomy theater. "We seem to be short a few guests. I can guess where the tall one is - he'll be joining us shortly, don't worry - but where -"

"Castiel is gone," Raphael says coldly. Dean starts; he hadn't even heard the flap of wings that should have heralded the archangel's arrival. "Your incompetent guard is dead."

"Gone?" Crowley repeats. "You're the one who assured me that the plucking of the primaries is a disabling injury to an angel. He'd be helpless, you said. You need to stop underestimating that brother of yours."

"He's no brother of mine," Raphael snarls. "Not anymore."

"You left Castiel alone with one guard?" Dean sneers. "I thought you knew better than to underestimate us."

Raphael ignores him. "It's not important. We know where he's going - to free that abomination of his. I presume that's also where the other Winchester is headed." Raphael shrugs dismissively. "They can wait, the ritual can't. When I have the power of a god, I'll erase him from existence."

"You mean, when we have the power," Crowley corrects, smiling smugly.

"Of course," Raphael says smoothly.

"Not," Dean mutters.

Crowley just winks at him.

Dean really doesn't give a rat's ass who double-crosses who first. He hopes the result is mutual destruction, but he somehow doubts he's that lucky.

"We should kill them now," Crowley advises.

"No," Raphael decides. "Let them witness this. There's nothing they can do to stop us now."

"Underestimating the Winchesters. That always ends well," Crowley snorts.

Raphael ignores him, instead tipping his head back to study the moon, just visible through the broken panes of the skylight above. It's just a sliver now, a hairsbreadth away from a full eclipse.

"It's time, demon," Raphael says.

The archangel stands back as Crowley painstakingly paints a sigil in blood on the brick wall, double- and then triple-checks his work, then, as the moon becomes completely obscured, begins to read the spell.

When the last syllable leaves Crowley's lips, Dean braces himself, waiting for all hell (or worse) to break loose. But nothing happens, and Dean and Bobby exchange puzzled looks.

"Mhmm. Maybe I said it wrong," Crowley scowls at the rapidly-drying sigil, all his carefully-laid plans drying up with it. Like most blood spells, Dean suspects the blood needs to be fresh, and Crowley had used up the contents of the jar. He'll have to find another Purgatory monster to drain, and even if he'd collected enough blood to have extra, he still has to wait for another eclipse before he can try again.

They'd failed! Dean barely refrains from pumping his fist in triumph.

Raphael is giving Crowley a scorching glare, and Dean tenses, waiting for the first blow to land. The moment they start trying to kill each other, he'll make his move. A quick glance at Bobby shows the older man has the same idea, and he gives Dean a slight nod to show he's ready and waiting. Their guards will either try to help their king, or at least be so distracted they won't see Dean and Bobby making their escape until it's too late.

And then something slips across his peripheral vision, something cold and dark that makes him shudder. He's not the only one who feels it; Raphael and Crowley immediately fall silent and whirl to face the intruder. Dean turns as well, expecting to see some obscenity from the depths of purgatory that had slipped through the doorway. But it's not.

It's Castiel.

Dean's relief that the angel is alive and safe is short-lived, however, when he actually looks at Castiel.

Or tries to. It's as though his gaze slides off the angel, his mind refusing to focus on him.

There's something wrong about him.

Cas's voice is curiously flat as he says, "You said it perfectly. What you needed was this." He places a jar, identical to the one Crowley had used, atop the closest table.

Oh. Fuck.

The sense of wrongness intensifies. His eyes are cold, completely devoid of emotion.

"I see," Crowley says carefully. He walks over to the wall and runs a finger through the tacky blood. "And we've been working with—" he sucks on his finger tip "—dog blood. Naturally." He gives Castiel an uneasy look - so Dean isn't the only who's noticed something's off.

Cas smiles. It's not a nice smile.

"Enough of these games, Castiel. Give us the blood," Raphael says, somehow failing to see what both Dean and Crowley have. He shifts his shoulders, and Dean thinks he might be lifting his wings in a threatening manner.

Castiel continues to smile, as though he's forgotten how to alter expressions. It doesn't reach his eyes.

Dean shifts, readying himself to back up Castiel when the fighting begins.

As if sensing the movement, he glances over towards Dean and Bobby are still crouched, and Dean gets a better look at his face.

His eyes aren't just emotionless; they're completely empty. Dead. Dean freezes in place. That's not Castiel…

"You—" Crowley starts, then huffs in exasperation. "Game's over. His jar's empty. So, Castiel, how'd your ritual go? Better than ours, I'll bet."

Castiel closes his eyes as his entire body begins to glow. It's not the blue-white light of an angel's Grace; the light that shines through the skin of his vessel is tinted gold. Dean shuts his eyes against the intensity, then covers them with his hands when his eyelids alone aren't enough to shield them.

It's almost not enough. Dean's left with an X-ray impression of the bones of his hands and some alarming spots obscuring much of his vision.

"You can't imagine what it's like," he says. "They're all inside me. Millions upon millions of souls."

"Sounds sexy. Exit stage Crowley," the demon says, and vanishes. The three demonic guards follow suit, leaving just the four of them.

Raphael tenses, obviously intending to follow Crowley's lead, but when he doesn't disappear, he turns wide, panicked eyes on Castiel.

"Now what's the matter, Raphael? Somebody clip your wings?" Castiel asks coldly.

"Castiel, please," Raphael begs. "You let the demon go, but not your own brother?"

Castiel shrugs. "He can't hide from me. I'll deal with him later." He studies Raphael, who is cringing beneath that inexorable gaze. "Perhaps I should do to you what you have done to me. Take you while you're helpless, violate your body, use your own biology against you."

Raphael cowers beneath that empty gaze, eyes wide with terror. "Please…" he says again.

"No," Castiel says abruptly, decisively. "No games. Simpler to just end you." He waves his hand languidly.

And then Raphael explodes.

All that's left of one of Heaven's most powerful weapons is a gory smear across the stone floor and walls. A few spots of blood fleck Bobby's beard.

"Fuck," Dean says, appalled.

"So you see," Castiel says, triumphant, "I saved you."

"Sure thing, Cas. Thank you," Dean says carefully.

"You doubted me, fought against me, but I was right all along," Castiel's lips twist into that unsettling smile again. Dean's stomach knots.

"Okay, Cas, you were. We're sorry. Now let's just defuse you, okay?"

"What do you mean?" If Castiel had been himself, this question would have been accompanied by a head tilt. But this Cas, this not-Cas, simply gives Dean a condescending smile, as though he's humoring him.

"You're full of nuke. It's not safe. So, before the eclipse ends, let's get them souls back to where they belong," Dean pleads.

"Oh no, they belong with me," he says, as if this were the most reasonable thing in the world.

"No, Cas, it's — it's scrambling your brain."

"No, I'm not finished yet," he says. "Raphael had many followers, and I must punish them all severely."

"Cas, no… the war is over. You need to come home. You have a daughter, Cas, and she needs you."

When Castiel suddenly turns his full attention on Dean, he sees the first hint of emotion in those alien eyes.

Interest.

Fuck. He should not have drawn attention to Danielle.

"Yes…" he says slowly. "The Nephil." His dead-eyed gaze swivels to the left, towards the operating theater's main doors. "I know you're there, Sam. I know you have the child. Join us." He gestures with his hand, and the door wings open. Sam walks forward, stride jerky and clearly not under his control, and comes to a halt between Dean and Bobby.

Danielle is in his arms, and Dean's heart lurches when he sees his daughter. Dani spies him a moment later and begins squirming in Sam's grasp. With a wail, Danielle launches herself from Sam's arms into Dean's and wraps her tentacles around his waist, sobbing and burying her beak into his chest.

Despite the dire situation, Dean can't help but think about how good it feels to have her in his arms again. "Shh, Baby Girl. It's okay. I've got you."

Then she spots Castiel and freezes.

"The Nephil," he murmurs, studying Danielle as though she were a curiosity, rather than his child.

"Your baby," Dean corrects. Danielle stares at Castiel with wide eyes.

"Such an awkward thing," he continues, his tone clinical.

Dean's arms tighten protectively around his daughter, trying to shield her from Castiel's cold gaze. "Yeah, well, she gets it from you, remember?"

"Perhaps I will reshape her in my new image," Castiel muses.

"No," Dean says flatly.

Castiel looks amused, as though Dean were a tiny ant who'd crawled onto his boot to challenge him. "No?" he repeats mockingly.

"You're not changing Dani," Dean snarls.

"Am I not? You've said so yourself, Dean. She's a 'tentacle eyeball monster,' a blob, an ugly little freak you can't take outside Bobby's home because others will fear and hate her. Her looks are very… inconvenient. A child of God should be revered, not reviled. Now, I can give that to her."

Dean flinches because, yeah. He might have said a thing or two about Dani that he regrets.

"Yeah, I'd like for her to be able to hide her appearance so she can go outside without drawing attention, but I don't want to change what she is. You don't change someone just because you find the way they look 'inconvenient!'"

His words are obviously making no impact on Castiel. The angel - the god - steps towards them, hand raised. His eyes and palms begin to glow with gathering power, and Dean makes a futile effort to put his body between Cas and Dani.

Danielle begins to make a frantic piping noise and tightens her grip around Dean. She squeezes all of her eyes shut and wraps her wings around herself as if to hide.

Castiel freezes, and his hand lowers slightly. "Why is she doing that?" For the first time, his expression of smug superiority changes, and for a moment, it's replaced by concern. Then Castiel's face smooths out. "What are you doing to her? Make her stop!" he commands.

"I'm not doing anything, Cas. She's scared. She's scared of you!"

"You're lying." Castiel takes another step forward, and Danielle's cries increase in pitch and frequency. Dean resists the urge to wrap her in his jacket so she can no longer see this twisted version of her parent. But Castiel needs to see.

"Look at her, Cas. Look at what you're doing to her."

Castiel stares, uncomprehending, as Danielle continues to cringe away from him.

And then his arrogant demeanor cracks, and for the first time, raw emotion shows in those dead blue eyes. The glow vanishes. "She's afraid of me," he whispers.

She's not the only one.

"Of course she is! Look at yourself, Cas! You turned yourself into a monster!"

"I did it for her. To protect her!" Castiel screams.

"I know, and no one's faulting you for that. But Raphael is dead, Crowley's run off to lick his wounds… You did it, Cas. You don't need the souls anymore. Let them go. Please."

Dean holds his breath as Castiel stands very still, obviously conflicted.

"Danielle is still in danger," Castiel whispers, voice pained.

"We can protect her. Together."

For a long moment, Dean's certain he failed, that Castiel will choose power instead of love as the means to protect his daughter.

And then he lifts his head, his eyes meeting Dean's. "Yes," Castiel says. "Yes."

He cups his hands, and suddenly he's holding another jar of blood, smaller than the one he'd shown Crowley and Raphael. "A spare," Castiel explains, seeing Dean's uneasy expression. "It's fortunate Crowley had no time to retrieve it after his first attempt at the ritual failed. This is the last of the Purgatory blood, just enough to open a small door."

"And how are you plannin' to do that? The eclipse is almost over, and the ritual can only be performed when the moon's completely covered," Bobby interjects.

"That can be corrected. Watch."

There's still a slender line of shadow across the edge of the moon. Castiel stares up at it, brow furrowed in concentration, and suddenly the moon is once again slipping towards darkness. Another eclipse. Dean can't suppress his shudder; Cas has the power to move the moon.

Castiel picks up the jar of blood and uses the remaining contents to quickly recreate the sigil in fresh blood on the wall adjacent to Crowley's false door, which he completes just as the moon again is completely obscured. He steps back and chants the spell, and the wall crumbles and pieces break off into the sucking black void that howls with the voices of millions of monster souls.

Castiel begins to glow, rapidly reaching a blinding intensity. Dean squeezes his eyes shut and turns away in an attempt to shield Danielle. There's screaming as hundreds, thousands of voices protest their return to Purgatory, and over them all, Castiel's roar of agony as they're wrenched free.

And then there's a deafening silence, in which Dean clearly hears the thud of a body falling.

Castiel is lying on the floor, unnaturally pale and very, very still.

Dean lurches to his feet, Danielle still clinging to one arm, and sprints to Castiel's side. The angel's face is slack, and he doesn't even seem to be breathing. Dean searches for a pulse, but finds only cold flesh. Danielle begins to wail.

"C'mon, Cas, wake up!" He grabs Castiel's shoulder and roughly shakes him. Castiel's head lolls, but he doesn't react.

"Maybe angels don't breath?" Dean asks desperately.

Bobby gives him a pitying look. "Dean," he begins, putting his hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean jerks away.

No. No. Dean doesn't want to hear it. This can't be happening. Because if Cas is… Without Cas… He won't just be losing his best friend. Dani needs Cas to survive.

Dean's going to lose them both.

"Cas, please… We need you…"

And then with a horrible gurgling sound, Castiel's eyes snap open and he rolls to side, onto his hands and knees. He starts choking, like someone who'd come close to drowning expelling water from their lungs.

Black liquid splatters across the floor, more of it than could possibly have fit in Castiel's lungs or stomach. Castiel continues gagging, expelling the noxious fluid until all that's left are small gobbets, and then even that eventually peters out.

Finally, after one last, strangled gag, he collapses back onto his haunches, eyes squeezed shut and hand pressed to his forehead. "I never want to do that again," he growls.

For a long moment there's silence, as they all stare at Castiel's miserably quaking shape huddled on the floor.

And then, a tentative, "Peep?"

Castiel's eyes snap open, and he whispers roughly, "Danielle?"

Danielle shrieks and thrashes in Dean's arms until he passes her over to Castiel, and the moment he takes her in his arms he pulls her to his chest, both arms wrapped firmly around her and chin resting atop her head. She wraps all her tentacles around him and buries her face into his coat and wails, and he croons gently until her cries subside.

It's all the confirmation Dean needs that Cas is Cas again.

Dean walks over and puts his hand on Cas's shoulder, and Danielle immediately wraps a tentacle around his fingers. "C'mon, Cas, let's go home."

"Yes," he breathes, voice rough with emotion. Dean pretends not to notice. He offers his hand to Castiel, who gratefully accepts, and hauls the angel to his feet. Castiel stumbles into Dean's chest and wraps himself around Dean and Danielle.

They walk out together, Danielle in Cas's embrace, Dean with his arm around Castiel's waist to help support him, Sam pacing at their side like a big, excited puppy, and Bobby leading the way, occasionally casting soft looks in the direction of his reunited family.

Dean looks back just once, to make certain no new threats have appeared. But there's nothing to see, nothing has changed; no demons or angels hide in the shadows, no yawning chasm opening to purgatory remains.

No, that's not quite right… there is one difference.

The puddle of black ooze is gone.

~oOo~

Before releasing the souls, Castiel had used them one last time to repair the damage to his wings and Grace; not a total recharge, because he didn't trust the influence the souls had on him, and the less he took from them, the better. Just enough that he's more than a shadow of himself. Enough to keep him alive.

That's all Dean can ask for, really.

He also had enough power to transport all of them home - even the battered Impala, which he leaves upright in the garage, ready for Dean's loving hands to bring her back to life.

Dean thinks he's going to need the emotional release that comes from working on his car in the next few days. But not yet; not when he wants to keep Cas and Dani in sight, assure himself that they're there, they're safe.

The feeling's mutual. Dani makes frantic piping sounds whenever anyone leaves her line of sight, even Bobby. Castiel doesn't voice any protest, but Dean can see the way he tenses, how his grip on Dani tightens.

Dean and Cas sprawl across one of Dani's blankets, the Nephil tucked securely between them. Periodically, Sam and Bobby join them, ostensibly to offer Dani toys or her bottle, or offer Cas food, but in reality, they want to be part of the closeness, to assure themselves that yes, their little family is again complete.

Dean's finally alone with Dani and Cas a few hours later when the angel says in a halting voice, "I do love her."

"Yeah, I kinda had a feeling," Dean grins. "Took you long enough to figure it out."

"How did you know?" Castiel's brow furrows. "I didn't realize it until her life was threatened."

"Because you didn't smite her. It would've been easy for you to give in to your instincts or training or whatever, but you didn't. You resisted a command from God, Cas! I figure a part of you must have wanted her."

Castiel cocks his head, thinking it over. "I believe you are correct," he says finally. "I had thought it was merely terror that stayed my hand, but I've never let fear stop me from doing what needed to be done before."

He looks about to say more, but then he tilts his head as though listening to something in the distance, and his jaw tightens.

"There are angels touching the wards," Castiel says, the faint hitch in his voice betraying his anxiety.

Shit. Shit. This, they don't need. "Can they pass them?" Dean asks as he takes up an angel blade.

Castiel shakes his head wearily. "But if they know we're here, they'll never leave us alone."

"Stay here," Dean says, unnecessarily. Cas doesn't budge from his protective curl around Danielle.

For once, Castiel obeys. But he doesn't look too happy that Dean's leaving. And Dean can hear Danielle whimper as soon as he's out of sight.

Leaving them is the hardest thing Dean has ever had to do. God help whoever is out there, because Dean's ready to take on all of Heaven if he has to if it keeps Cas and Danielle safe.

Fortunately, it's not all of Heaven, it's Balthazar, Hester, and Inias. Or their vessels, anyway.

"Christo," Dean says.

Their eyes don't change, but Dean splashes holy water across Balthazar's face, just to be certain. And because it's satisfying. Balthazar scowls. "Do I pass?" He wipes at his eyes.

Dean lowers the angel blade, but doesn't put it away. "You look like Hell," Dean says.

Balthazar snorts, then winces. "Ouch," he grumbles. "I feel worse than Hell, thanks for rubbing it in."

"I see you recovered your vessel." It looks a little worse for wear; pale and bruised, with bags under the eyes that rival Castiel's.

"He doesn't fit right anymore; damn demon stretched him all out."

"And then there's the damage to his true form," Hester says, giving Balthazar a worried frown. "He should be in Heaven, recovering from his wounds."

"And I will be, as soon as I'm sure everything worked out," Balthazar snaps. "How are Castiel and the child?"

"Alive. Safe."

"Good," Balthazar says, shoulders sagging in relief. Dean expects Hester to immediately drag him away now that he has his answer, but at a look from Balthazar, she moves off to stand with Inias, staying close enough to keep an eye on her commander, but far enough to give them the illusion of privacy. Good, because Dean has questions.

"How'd Crowley end up in your meatsuit, anyway?"

"Raphael got the jump on us." His lips twist into a grimace. "You were right; our food deliveries attracted too much attention. We were imprisoned, and he forced me out of my vessel." His face becomes devoid of expression, but his eyes are hollow, distant, focused on some internal torment. Like Castiel, he won't admit when he's suffered horribly. "I suppose the only reason we weren't killed immediately was so Raphael could make an example of us once he got what he wanted. And then there was an uproar, which I assume resulted from Raphael's death, and we were able to escape in the confusion."

"Cas'll be happy to hear you're all right," Dean says.

Balthazar smiles humorlessly. "I never said I was all right. But I'm alive. And I'll continue to see that Castiel and the Nephil are provided for; Heaven's in complete chaos right now, and no one's going to care about the existence of one little abomination. They should be safe for a little while, at least."

That's one less thing to worry about, anyway.

"So, Castiel really killed Raphael, didn't he?" There's awe in Balthazar's voice. "He's always been woefully underestimated by his superiors, but even I didn't believe he could pull it off."

"He's the best of all of you," Dean says, chin lifting. Castiel made mistakes, yes, but he did it all on behalf of humanity, which is more than any other angel has ever done.

"Hmph." Balthazar scoffs, but he can't hide his obvious pride in his friend. "And to think we were denied permission to have a child because the powers that be thought Cassy would make an unsuitable parent."

Dean's triumph at being right that there'd been something more between Cas and Balthazar than just being brothers in arms is eclipsed by his jealousy there'd been something more between Cas and Balthazar than just being brothers in arms. And it had been serious enough that they'd wanted a child.

"Don't look so shocked," Balthazar snorts. Dean realizes his mouth is hanging open, and he snaps it shut.

Dean decides that no, this isn't the time to start asking again if Cas would've been the female angel in the relationship. He suspects he knows the answer, anyway.

"Sir," Hester says warningly.

Balthazar shoots her a glare. "I'd better be off before I'm dragged away kicking and screaming. And not in a fun way." With that, he vanishes, the accompanying wing beat sounding labored to Dean's ears. Hester and Inias follow a moment later.

Dean heads back to the house, moving quickly because he's anxious to get back to Cas and Dani. He finds he's more sympathetic now to Cas's reluctance to part from their daughter.

Castiel is sitting on the floor of the main room, knees drawn up to his chest and Danielle clutched tight against his heart. From the set of his shoulders, he'd wrapped his wings around them. His eyes are shut, and Danielle is cooing contentedly, eyes closing one by one as she finally begins to nod off.

They're off in their own world, and Dean is reluctant to intrude. But Castiel's eyes snap open, and he drops his shoulder, an odd bit of body language that Dean doesn't understand until something settles against his back, cupping around him and drawing him closer. Cas has hooked him with a wing, and Dean allows himself to be guided to Castiel's side. He wraps his arm around Cas's waist, beneath his invisible yet tangible wings, and Castiel immediately leans into him, huffing a sigh of contentment.

Dean will never, ever admit how much he's missed this.

"So?" Castiel murmurs. "What happened?"

"It was Balthazar. I made sure to test him, and it's really him." Dean says, and the last of the tension leaves Castiel's shoulders. "Says he'll live. Inias and Hester, too. And we've got some time before Heaven remembers Danielle exists."

Castiel's only response is a pleased hum as he closes his own eyes and settles more comfortably against Dean.

~oOo~

Dean's finishing up the last of the dishes, hurrying through the chore so he can join Cas and Dani in bed and get the first good night's sleep he's had in days, when he first becomes aware of it: it starts as a feeling, a soothing thrum that brings a smile to his face and a tranquility he hasn't felt in… well, Dean doesn't remember ever feeling this peaceful.

The thrum rises in pitch, becoming audible. Now Dean can hear it rising, falling, only to soar again and take him with it.

Not just a sound: it has a rhythm. A song.

The windows rattle, but the sound never reaches a glass-shattering pitch. It sounds angelic, but carefully controlled so as not to harm fragile human ears.

It's beautiful.

Dean carefully sets the last plate in the drainer and follows his ears to the living room, where Sam and Bobby are clearly as affected as Dean.

"That what I think it is?" Bobby asks, staring up the stairs with wide eyes. Sam's sitting froze on the couch, laptop forgotten, gazing rapturously at the ceiling.

It's music, but it's nothing like Dean has ever heard before. He hurries up the stairs, following the sound to its source.

Castiel is seated on the bed, cradling Danielle, who's gazing up at him adoringly. Her tentacles are touching his face, and he's nuzzling into them.

The incredible sound is coming from him.

Castiel is singing. Dean leans against the doorjamb, not wanting to interrupt. The music is unearthly, sung in a voice that bears little resemblance to his vessel's gravelly tones. Dean thinks it might be in Enochian, because some of the words sound familiar, but the words escape his understanding, like they're not meant for human ears. When Castiel finally subsides into silence and turns to face Dean, it breaks the spell, and Dean finally enters the room and takes a seat on the bed next to Cas.

"What was that?" Dean breathes.

"A hymn, one that hasn't been sung on Earth in thousands of years."

Dean's not big on the religious stuff, but he has to admit, "It was beautiful." Better than Zeppelin, though Dean can't bring himself to admit that aloud. "I had no idea you could sing like that."

"I am an angel," Castiel reminds him. "Before Lucifer's rebellion made soldiers of us all, our primary duty was to sing our Father's praises." His voice is sad as he murmurs, "It was so much simpler, then. No fighting, no slaying my brothers and sisters, no Apocalypse… only love." Cas clutches Danielle more tightly to his chest.

"You gonna be okay, Cas?"

Castiel is silent for a moment, head tilted as he considers. "Physically, I am well. My Grace is almost completely restored, and as long as I continue eating to supplement my Grace and use my powers sparingly, it shouldn't become as depleted as it had been."

Which wasn't what Dean was asking, but it's good to know.

"And what about emotionally?"

Castiel shrugs. "I'll cope."

Well, at least he's not going the Winchester route and saying he's fine when he's clearly not.

"I did it for her," Castiel says quietly. "When Raphael threatened her, all I could think about was how the only way to protect her was to kill him."

"Hey, I'm not doubting your intentions, Cas. We all do crazy shit for the ones we love. Look at me, I sold my soul to save my brother. And in the end, you were able to give up all that power, just for her."

Castiel smiles fondly down at Danielle, who blinks back at him sleepily. "She saved me again," he says. He turns back to Dean, gaze suddenly somber. "But I still wonder if I did the right thing, killing Raphael."

"Of course you did! He was going to free Lucifer and restart the Apocalypse! He had to die, Cas!"

"Yes… but… I told you about angelic reproduction, how we need an angel with specific gifts to create a baby. There were once a dozen such angels with that gift, but… Raphael was the last. Danielle will be the last child born of an angelic bloodline." Castiel's voice is gruffer than normal, the only indication of the despair he must be feeling.

Dean stops himself before he can say that the world doesn't need more angels, anyway. Instead, he places his hand on Castiel's shoulder. There are no words of comfort he can provide, so he simply squeezes. "What happens now?"

"Now?" Castiel tilts his head thoughtfully. "Heaven's troubles didn't die with Raphael, though without an archangel to guide it, the Apocalypse is again derailed. There will still be factions competing for control, but it will be a long time before anyone becomes organized enough to be a real threat to humanity."

"And where does that leave you?"

"I'm still the parent of a Nephil. Still under a death sentence. For now, I can't pass beyond the wards." Despite his dire words, he looks content as he pulls Danielle closer, until she's smooshed against his chest. Danielle purrs happily. "Sam says you have never been to the Grand Canyon," Castiel says abruptly.

Dean's baffled by the change of topic. "Yeah," he says slowly.

"I thought, perhaps… Danielle is still unsettled, and I don't wish her to have nightmares. And I will likely spend the night replaying all that has happened. I thought instead, we could all do a dreamwalk in the Grand Canyon. Sam and Bobby have already agreed to it." He gives Dean a shy smile. "It would be a family vacation."

"That… actually sounds really awesome, Cas." Because, yeah, he now has a whole lot of new nightmare fodder to add to memories of Hell and the various deaths of Sam and pretty much everyone else in his life. He'd much rather spend the night on a family vacation. "Let's do it. Will I… will I be able to see your wings again?"

"If you'd like." Castiel looks pleased at the question.

Still cradling Danielle tightly in one arm, Castiel smoothes out the blanket beneath them before settling down with a sigh. Then he gives Dean a pointed look and pats the empty side of the bed. Dani apes him, pounding her tentacles enthusiastically.

Well, that's an invitation he can't refuse. Dean lays beside them, pulling a blanket over them all. Castiel immediately wraps himself around Dean, Danielle tucked in between them in a position that would have been painful for a human baby, but is very comforting for the squishy, tactile Nephil.

"So, this cuddly phase of yours… is it a side effect of parenthood, or have you always secretly been a cuddler?" Dean will never admit this aloud, but he's kind of hoping it's the latter.

Castiel considers this for a long moment. "Yes," he says finally, unhelpfully, and drapes the arch of his wing over Dean's face, muffling any further complaints. Okay, so they'll deal with this tomorrow.

They'll figure something out. They always do.

~fin~

First of all, I want to thank everyone who stuck with this fic and sent words of encouragement when it was in limbo. I typically lose the motivation to write at the third chapter of a long fic, not at the final one. I really, really didn't want to take three years to write the final chapter. Danielle's matured a lot in my head; she's quite garrulous, very opinionated, and loves video games.

I had hoped to do a sequel, tentatively titled "Hunter's Grace." With actual plot, and Leviathans. But who knows if I'll ever get to it.

I do have a timestamp I might actually finish called "Mother's Day." I actually intended to have it finished on Mother's Day (of, erm, two years ago), but my depression has just made writing too difficult for me. So instead you'll get it eventually. I'd also planned to do a series of timestamps under the title of "Angel's Heart" before Robbie Thompson went and (sort of) used my title for an awesome episode. Who knows if I'll ever get around to it, though…