It's funny how humanizing grief is.

Grief is a side effect of sentiment and love. As long as there's someone you care about, anyone at all, grief can and will find you and bring you down. It doesn't matter how high and mighty you pretend to be, how much money you have, because money and power can't replace the person you loved.

It's been a month, and the world can still feel Michael's grief. The angels hear his pained howls and the world feels the despair in the strange weather and the depression that settles on the whole of humanity.

"What will happen to him?" Dean remembers asking Castiel a few days after the portal was opened.

"With time, he will fade," Cas had answered. "His pain will only affect the world for a short while now. Then he'll become a shade of what he used to be, and someone will have to step up into his place as the commander of Heaven."

"Who in their right mind-"

"I don't know." Dean had seen an ancient sadness in Cas at that point. "But someone has to as long as there are angels to command."

"There aren't really that many of you left," Dean had commented quietly.

Cas had smiled thinly. "And fewer to return to Heaven."

Adam wanders through the house that the angels built from Bobby's memories, a nearly exact replica of the house that had been the center of hunter activity for years. They had moved back to Sioux Falls after Samandriel had been healed completely.

He doesn't remember much, and what he does remember is strange. He remembers casting the spell to summon Michael, and the pain that came with it- no one could ever forget that- and he remembers the way Michael spoke to him, like a father to a child. Do not fall into the wayward path, Adam. Do not follow the steps of your namesake. He remembers someone's arms lifting him from the ground and moving him to safety, and then later the same arms lifting him again and placing him in a soft bed. And, unless he's hallucinating, he remembers that the arms belonged to Inias.

In fact, now that he thinks about it, Inias is in most of what he remembers. Brief jogs into consciousness when Inias was tending him. Worried words exchanged between Inias and Sam and Dean.

Waking up had been unpleasant, mostly because it had involved animalistic screaming inside his head, louder than anything, and there was no way to block it out, because how can someone fight against their own brain? The only thing Adam could do was scream in response, and curl into a tiny ball, and Inias was there, trying to shield him with his wings-

His wings. Adam could see his wings.

It hasn't gone away. When all the angels returned, their wings had crowded the space that was the small hotel room serving as home base, and given Adam a supreme headache on top of the raw throat he had gained and the constant static within his mind. (The screaming would break through the static sometimes, and what was the screaming, who would have cause to scream like their life had been torn away from them?) Adam had taken a week to learn how to control the thing that Dean called "angel radio" and eventually could access it willingly. It would go away, Inias said. Once Michael's grief disperses, you won't hear a thing.

But it's still there, and Adam can still see the wings of the angels that drop in. Keriel and Eremiel bring news of Hester's death, and their wings are the gold of a lion's hide and the ebony of a grizzly bear's, respectively. The confirmation of Hester's death causes Inias not to speak to anyone for a week- he just sits on the couch in the newly constructed house, allowing Adam to bring him food and Castiel to sit with him silently. Samandriel's wings are a gilded silver, not shiny but not tarnished as well; Gadreel's are a smooth, chocolate brown that complement her vessel's eyes very well; Ophaniel's are blond with thin, light feathers, as though sunlight were captured in down. Hadraniel and Nadras are a matched set of mottled white wings like a snowy owl's.

Adam finds that he can't look at Layla and Amber without having a mental spike driven into his brain- their wings are there, yes, but blurry and out of focus, like opening your eyes underwater, or wearing the eyeglasses of a legally blind man. Samandriel had taken Layla and Amber back to their hometown two weeks ago, and created a media frenzy- Amber is too young to recall what happened, Layla won't speak, and thank God that Alfred is insightful enough to feign amnesia, because if he tells the public what he's seen, what he's experienced…

Inias' are the worst to look at. Not because they aren't beautiful- of course they are, colored raven-black and streaked with highlights of shimmering green like oil spilled on the surface of water- but because as the days go on, he watches the feathers fall out, watches them thin and shrink and move less. Inias doesn't speak about it, but Adam knows, and he's sure that Inias knows he knows. Adam observes Inias' expressions closely, the pain withheld from his face until he's alone. But Adam sees it. And eventually, he confronts Inias about it.

Inias doesn't look up when Adam opens the door to the room that he uses on the occasions that he actually sleeps. He's sitting in the middle of the bed, cross-legged, his wings spread out as far as they can go, sloping gently off the edge of the bed onto the floor. "Inias?"

He opens his eyes. "I'm sorry, Adam."

Sorry for what? I haven't even said anything. "I don't understand, what do you mean?"

"I'm sorry you have to see this," Inias explains, beginning to fold his wings and wincing slightly. "I guess there was a setback in the spell instructions- you had to be woken up by the angel you summoned, and there was meant to be a ritual to follow, and we didn't-"

"That's not your fault, though," Adam interrupts. "So why are you apologizing?"

Inias shakes his head. "I could have prevented it," he murmured. "And you wouldn't have to see… this." He gestures at his wings vaguely.

Adam reaches out his hand hesitantly, but stops himself before his fingers come in contact with the feathers. "What's happening to them?"

"I made a choice," Inias answers. "I had a choice between Heaven and humanity, and I chose humanity… and you," he adds. Adam sits on the edge of the bed, avoiding stepping on the trailing wings.

"I don't… why would you do that… for me?" Adam asks slowly.

Inias doesn't give him a direct answer. Instead, he begins speaking. "Have you spoken to Castiel?"

"Not really."

"Well, he left Heaven nearly three years ago now, to join the Winchesters here, on Earth. We didn't understand why he would leave Heaven- it was our home, our paradise- but he left all the same." Inias is quiet for a moment, and Adam waits. "I understand now. The way he is with Dean… If I had that, I wouldn't want to come home either."

A small understanding comes to Adam. "Is that why?"

Inias smiles slightly. "Yes, that's why."

Adam smiles too. "And here I thought you were dying or something drastic."

Inias ducks his head. "I'm sorry I worried you."

Adam reaches out and intertwines his fingers with Inias' own. "It's okay."

"Okay," Inias repeats, turning and leaning his back into Adam's. It's a mark of Inias' choice that they're comfortable to sit there in silence for an undetermined expanse of time. Adam knows he's got a choice of his own to make, he knows, but he doesn't care, not yet. Whatever Inias has chosen is good enough for him.

Lucifer wanders the rough landscape of Purgatory aimlessly, going from grove to grove looking for a place to call her own. She figures that as long as she's gonna be stuck here, she might as well have a hiding place, for when the Leviathan come back.

They won't come back any time soon, though. The raw energy that Lucifer had exerted to throw them back into their cage, along with the sounds they hear from Michael-

It would be enough to keep anyone away.

Lucifer can't get through to Michael, no matter how hard she tries. But she can hear him, his anguish and pain in his voice, and she's never heard him like this, not even when she was cast down into the Pit.

Shadows follow her among the trees, whispering, watching, waiting. The King of Hell cast down from his mighty throne. Come to find your brothers at last? Maere, rex daemonorum, maere eis; tempus eorum venerat. Constant murmurs in the air.

She knows some of the shadows- this is what the spirits are reduced to when left to Purgatory for a prolonged time. They are angels, her brothers, fallen and killed in her war against Heaven, some on her side and some on the other; what does it matter now?

And they will never leave her alone.

"Lucifer, please," Michael pleads, and Castiel and Dean are finally free from the Leviathan's grasp, unable to comprehend what Lucifer is doing for them- why would she sacrifice herself for humanity? Dean locks eyes with Cas, confused, and Cas shakes his head.

The look on Lucifer's face is strangely pitying, as if she isn't the one about to step through the portal, but just watching from the sidelines. She steps to the other side, and she's gone. The light from the breach flees and they are left in darkness.

When they open their eyes, they find Michael kneeling by the wall, one hand on the bricks as though he can reach through and contact his younger sibling. "Michael?" Cas asks anxiously. He doesn't respond. "Michael, we have to go, now," he insists.

A strange glow is building from Michael's being. He slowly stands, his hand curling into a fist. Dean pulls at Cas from behind. "Cas, come on," he says quietly, a shade of urgency in his voice, because he knows that fist, what follows the loss of a brother, and in the hands of an archangel-

Cas brushes Dean's hand off of him. "We can't do anything for Lucifer. The demons are coming, we'll die if we stay here."

The glow gets more intense; it hurts to look at directly, and Dean knows how much danger they're in but Cas doesn't seem to agree or just doesn't understand- Michael wouldn't hurt us, Dean, I am his brother.

But he's just lost a brother too.

Michael looks at Cas. Some kind of rage is building in his gaze, and an emptiness, a great hole where something used to be- Dean knows that gaping void, it's what he felt every time Sam was killed, he knows what it's like for your whole being to be torn away in one instant-

The scream starts in the back of Michael's throat. Cas seems to realize the danger a split second before Dean grabs his arm again and they make a break for it.

They make it to the edge of the door, make a hard left, and Dean makes sure Cas is still with him, holding his hand, running alongside him when the blast comes from behind them. Crumbling rock, a bright white glow racing down the hall to meet them, and suddenly they're not there at all, but outside at the entrance with four very alarmed and concerned angels. Dean's knees give out and Cas slumps into his side, breathing heavily. The four angels quickly prop them up on their shoulders and then they're in the motel with Bobby, being placed on beds.

"Sam," Dean remembers suddenly.

"I'm right here, Dean," Sam's voice answers him quietly.

"Cas," he says, his words slurred with exhaustion.

"He's in the next room over with Inias. I guess Adam woke up-"

"No," Dean interrupts, trying to be more awake, starting to panic, because he needs Cas in his sight, he can't slip away again, not this time. "Here. I need Cas… here. Please, Sam, I need him," he begs his brother, who is gently pushing Dean back into the mattress and pulling covers over his shoulders.

"I'll make sure he doesn't go anywhere, Dean," Sam assures him. "I won't let him slip away."

Sam's really the only person who understands him, Dean thinks, before he falls into unconsciousness.

Dean wakes up a few hours later to find Cas curled into his side. Dean blinks a couple of times and brings the room into focus- it's empty except for Sam, who is meticulously cleaning his handgun. He hasn't slept. "You were having a nightmare," he murmurs. "Cas came over about an hour ago, he couldn't sleep either."

It's another month before either of them admits anything. Maybe seeing Adam and Inias' happiness spurred them on, maybe it took them that long to be secure in their safety; the reason doesn't really matter.

Sam is out on a supply run with Bobby and Dean is handling the phone lines while they're out. Castiel hears him answer a phone in a deeper voice than normal. Possibly he's trying to impersonate Bobby, or maybe just wants to sound older. Castiel is flipping idly through the records collected in boxes near Bobby's desk, thinking one will catch his eye eventually.

Dean hangs up the phone in the kitchen. Castiel hears the chair scrape back on the linoleum floor, gentle thuds that indicate Dean is walking toward him. Dean sits next to him, the couch dipping slightly under his weight, and Castiel doesn't look at him until Dean's hand brushes against his own. This surprises Castiel- Dean has been fairly distant since they had recovered. "You okay?" he asks softly.

Castiel picks a record out of the box- Bob Dylan's Bringing It All Back Home. He places the record on its second side and deftly positions the needle on the edge of the record. "I am healed."

"I meant… you know, here," Dean tries again, tapping his head with a finger.

Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me…

"I think so. I'm just a little confused," he decides, putting the record sleeve back in the box.

"You can't get un-confused unless you ask questions," Dean points out. It's actually the first real conversation they've had in weeks. "So go ahead. I suppose I have questions too."

Castiel thinks for a moment. "How did you know what would happen, after Lucifer closed the portal?"

"With Michael?" Castiel nods. "Because I know what it's like, Cas. I mean, losing your little brother… when I lost Sam, before you knew me- I was irrational, blinded. And if I'd had that kind of power I would have torn apart the whole world to get him back." They're quiet for a minute, then Dean asks, "Why did you come over… the night we got back?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"Yeah, but in front of all your brothers, didn't you say-"

"Screw what they think," Castiel snaps. "It doesn't matter anymore what they think of me. They're going back to Heaven… and I'll die here, on Earth." The finality of the situation hits Castiel like a ton of bricks. He can't go back to the place he used to call home, but his brothers can. Some already have. When Layla and Amber are old enough, Samandriel will come back for them and help them find their grace. (It's a nice cover for them, Leliel and Ambriel, being human in an ordinary American town.) But Castiel will stay here, with the Winchesters.

"So?" Dean prompts him gently.

"So… I'm going to stay here." Castiel moves the needle off the record again, deciding that this isn't what he's looking for. "There's nowhere else I can go anyway. I can't help people like I used to, but maybe I can become a hunter, with you."

"We're retiring, Cas," Dean tells him, surprised.

Castiel looks up from the record box. "Can you?"

"We'll try," Dean corrects himself, closing the record box and placing his hands over Cas'. "You don't have to do anything to prove yourself."

The gesture startles Castiel. "Dean, I-"

"Don't even try to say you're not worth it, Cas, because you don't really get to choose that, I do. You're worth it because I say you are." Dean continues before Castiel can speak again. "I know how you think about yourself-"

"No," Castiel manages to get out, stopping Dean quite effectively. "I mean… I wasn't going to."

"Oh." Dean looks at Castiel closely, a small smile turning into a huge grin. "You mean it?"

"Yes." And he does, finally.

Dean closes the distance between them, bringing their lips together softly. He rests their foreheads together. "It's been too long."

Castiel hums quietly. "I agree."