A/N: Okay, so this is kind of a fic I've had in my head for a while, but wasn't sure how to go about writing it until I started my story "The Breaking" and then it kind of came into being. It's sort of a prequel to that story and though it's not necessary to read them both together, this provides a little backstory to what I felt was Castiel's inner struggles during the course of S4 and in turn, gives an inner look into how I wrote him and Dean and their relationship in my story "The Breaking". There's a little bit of head canon involved in this story (okay, probably a lot) but most importantly is that I am going along with one of my personal favorite head canons that Cas is Dean's actual guardian angel, something I explored in my series of one shots "Protector".

Anyway, that's what this is, and I hope if you enjoy this you will go check out "The Breaking" too which is currently being posted :) And let me know what you think of this. Oh, and just to reiterate, this is not slash.

When You Wake

A Supernatural Fanfic

It was not because he was ordered to rescue Dean Winchester from hell that made Castiel think he was worth saving; maybe it was at first, but when he met him, when he saw him in hell torturing souls for Alastair, it was different. Castiel had been ready for a feeling of disgust, but all he could muster was compassion, for all he witnessed was a broken soul, but one of a righteous man.

He was not the only angel who went to pull the young man out, but it had been his orders to save Dean Winchester, his charge since the boy had been born, so he took it upon himself personally to find Dean.

It was a hard, and bloody fight to the finish. Many demons were slain but many angels fell as well, and Castiel mourned his brothers and sisters who were lost, sometimes wondering whether it was all worth it, and almost allowing himself to feel contempt for Dean Winchester, a man seemingly of no consequence who Castiel was losing his fellow soldiers for.

And then it happened. Castiel remembered how it felt when Dean stepped off the rack and took up the blade himself to torture souls. It was a devastation that nearly ripped him apart, the feeling of failure, and regret, that he couldn't have gotten there earlier, couldn't have saved Dean from himself.

That was when the angels started to give up. The Seal had been broken; there was no reason now to rescue Dean Winchester, at least in their eyes.

"We need him," Castiel insisted. "The man who starts it must finish it."

"Then we are doomed," said Castiel's superior and just like that, turned and left.

"I will not leave him to this," Castiel said. "Will no one stand with me and see our mission through?"

"You choose this time to be obedient, Castiel?" the angel Naomi said, already following the leader. "You surprise me. After your continued defiance."

"Dean Winchester is not only my mission but my charge," Castiel informed her firmly. "I will not leave without him." And with that, he turned and continued further into Hell.

He was surprised to find a dozen other angels at his back, and nodded to them with gratitude as Naomi and the others left without another glance back.

They continued on, and on through the darkness, one continuous battle after another until they were all at the very limits of their strength and every step forward was almost too much to bear. It became so bad that the last few of Castiel's fellows who still survived had to sacrifice themselves to hold the demons back so that Castiel could go forward to complete the mission, and he crawled to the very depths of the Pit where the prisoners of high import were kept.

By the time he arrived, mourning for his lost comrades, most of his strength was waning, and he feared that if he had to fight any more he would not have the strength to take Dean Winchester away. He had sustained many wounds without the time or the extra power to heal them. The evil and darkness of hell's atmosphere put a toll on his grace he had never felt before and it was all he could do to keep going.

It took another long search to even find Dean. He wasn't sure where he would be, he was not among the prisoners where he thought he would be kept, not in the deeper pits where the demons kept their most important prisoners. But he searched doggedly, until he finally found him.

He found the torture chamber and spotted first the demon Alastair, who held sway there, head tormenter, and Castiel shuddered at the darkness and evil that exuded from this demon. He stood at the shoulder of a young man who Castiel might have thought was a demon had he not seen the light of a human soul surrounding him. Not turned to a demon yet, but it was tarnished and fading and Castiel knew this one was marked to become a demon, he was even torturing the other man strapped to a rack at Alastair's instructions. But even despite that, Castiel knew that soul.

"That's is, Deano, nice and slow. It's easy when you get the hang of it."

The man stiffened as Alastair wrapped his hand around his, showing him how to use the blade, but didn't say anything. Castiel felt sadness come over him. This was indeed Dean Winchester. Had he already fallen so far?

Even though he had known what to expect defeat washed over him as he slumped in his hiding place. He had been too late to save Dean from himself, from inadvertently breaking the first Seal that would start the beginning of the end. He had failed and worse, he felt he had failed Dean Winchester, for he couldn't quite bring himself to loath the man, despite what he was doing now. Not after looking after him and his younger brother their whole lives. He was a lost soul who only needed faith and assistance, and Castiel had been unable to provide that. But he must go on with the mission. He might have originally expected to instead find Dean Winchester on Alastair's rack, but this changed nothing, in fact, he almost felt all the more determined to save Dean now. He was still important, and Castiel was not leaving hell without him.

But he heard more demons coming, and he had to find a place to hide for now before he was forced into a fight he couldn't win.

He didn't know how long a time passed before he escaped the demons and found his way back to where Dean was being kept. He watched him torturing souls, his aura even more tarnished now, and Castiel saw that he was frighteningly skilled at the job. He watched, transfixed, as Dean dealt out punishments and afterward Alastair would come out and congratulate him on a good days' work and put him back in his cell.

That was where Castiel found him when they met face to face for the first time. He crept into the cell and instead of finding Dean Winchester relaxing between his shifts, he saw him curled in the corner of the small room, arms wrapped around his knees and his head lowered on top of them. Castiel frowned at the small, pitiful looking figure.

"Dean Winchester?" he asked quietly.

Dean jumped and scrambled to his feet, snarling almost ferally. "Who are you? What are you?" he demanded, studying Castiel with distrust. "You aren't a demon. You're too…clean."

"No," Castiel said. "I'm an Angel of the Lord."

"Yeah, right," Dean snorted. "Leave me alone."

Castiel was taken aback slightly. "You…don't believe me?"

"Hell no," Dean scoffed. "There's no such things as angels."

"But you obviously believe in hell and demons," Castiel told him. "There is a light to every darkness, Dean Winchester."

"Well, you'll forgive me if I don't exactly see any silver linings anymore," Dean growled out as he sat down in the corner again. "Now go away."

"I came to raise you from perdition," Castiel told him firmly, not moving.

Dean snorted. "Buy me dinner first, and I might consider," he snarked.

Castiel frowned, not understanding but still didn't move. "Do you really not have faith, Dean?" he asked, sadly. "I was told you were the Righteous Man. I assumed…"

"Yeah, well you assumed wrong," Dean spat. "I ain't righteous and I've been through too much down here to have much in the way of faith. But you should have faith that I will kill you if you don't leave. Or Alastair will." A shudder went through him at the mention of his tutor, but he still glared dangerously at Castiel.

Finally, the angel sighed, knowing he would have to leave before he was discovered. He would try again to sway Dean to his side soon.

"Very well, but I will be back," he said. "I won't give up faith in you, Dean Winchester. Even if you claim to have none."

Dean ignored him and Castiel sensed demons coming so he made a quick exit and found somewhere to hide until the next time Dean was put into his cell.

When he was next able to get close to Dean, he came to the bars of his cell and looked in, finding the young man once again curled in the corner, the picture of misery. "Dean," Castiel said quietly.

The man looked up, instantly effecting a defiant look, but Castiel had seen the misery, the self-hatred, before that and it bore into his soul.

"You again," Dean grunted. "I told you to go away, I'm not the one you want."

"I did not choose you by accident, it is fated," Castiel tried to tell him. "You must come with me, Dean, it is of grave importance. You are needed on earth for a new battle is upon us."

"Listen, buddy, I don't know what your game is, but I ain't your 'righteous man' and I sure as hell ain't going with you to fight some battle. I'm done fighting. I tried, but apparently I gave up, otherwise, I wouldn't be here, carving up souls for the likes of Alastair." Bitterness was foremost in his voice, but under that a sadness that ran so deep Castiel felt awash in it.

"You don't think you should be saved," Castiel said sadly, not a question, but an observation, for it was obvious that Dean felt unworthy of any kindness, small or great.

The young man laughed but it was a hollow, bitter sound. "Saved? I don't know what cool aid you've been drinking, halo, but I don't think I deserve to be given a smack in the face by the likes of you, let alone a ticket out of here. Not after what I've done."

"Everyone deserves to be saved, Dean," Castiel told him quietly.

"You don't know anything about me," Dean snarled. "Now leave me alone."

He wasn't supposed to tell him this, but Castiel needed Dean to trust him, and he knew this was the only way. "I know a lot about you, actually. I've been watching you for years, Dean, you and your brother. Looking out for you."

"Yeah, well, no offense, but you did a piss-poor job of it," Dean said cuttingly, standing up finally and turning his back on the angel.

Castiel's mouth thinned into a line, not wanting to admit how much that comment had hurt. "I couldn't always be there, and I wasn't always…allowed…to intervene, but I've known you your whole life, Dean, and I know you are a good man." He smiled then. "You know, your mother always told you angels were watching over you. You never really believed her, but she was right."

Dean's shoulders tensed, but he didn't turn around. Castiel pushed on. "If for no one else, Dean, do it for Sam. He needs you, as do we. He will be involved in this current war, whether willingly or not, and he needs you by his side. You don't want him to have to do this alone."

"Shut up," Dean ground out.

Castiel sighed. "I need you to understand Dean, please just listen…"

"No, you listen to me, halo," Dean said, turning around and stepping over to the bars, glaring at the angel. "I ain't going anywhere with you. I don't even know if you're not just some new torment they've cooked up for me down here to see if I can break any more than I already have. So don't you dare mention my family and stay the hell away from me."

Castiel watched him walk back to his corner and slump down again. "My name is Castiel, Dean."

"Oh good," Dean said sarcastically. "Then stay the hell away from me, Cas."

Castiel sensed more demons coming again, and knew he had go leave, though not without a heavy heart. "Please just consider, Dean. I'm not leaving here without you."

"Then enjoy your stay, just like I did," Dean said. "Maybe if you ask nice Alastair will give you a nice cozy room with a rack and chains in it."

Castiel turned and left, fleeing swiftly as the demons rounded the corner.

He began to despair of getting Dean out of hell. He knew he could easily pull him out by force, but it would be easier if he could get the man to trust him. It was going to be hard enough to get out as it was, let alone doing it with an unwilling passenger. But he also knew that time was running out. The longer he stayed in hell the weaker he became, and there was the ever-present fear of capture by the demons. He had avoided them so far by sheer luck, but he knew that wouldn't last forever.

So the next time he waited for a better opportunity to talk to Dean when the young man might be more inclined to listen to him. That opportunity arose one day when he witnessed Dean and Alastair from one of his hiding places, talking in the torture chamber where Dean worked.

"I am working, Alastair," Dean insisted. "What more do you want from me?"

The demon backhanded him roughly across the face. "Some respect for starters. You're just not giving it your all, Deano. And you being my best student. Don't tell me you need a refresher course."

Castiel could see Dean's shoulders tensing and shuddering from where he was, and his heart ached for the young man as he watched Dean shake his head vigorously. "No, sir. Just…just tell me what to do."

Alastair smiled. "Your daddy did teach you well, my boy, I'll give him that. Now, prove yourself to me, take up the blade and finish the job, Dean."

Castiel didn't miss the pain on Dean's face as he turned away from Alastair and picked up the blade again. He set his shoulders and his jaw and started to work on the man chained to the rack until screams echoed through the halls again, and Castiel had to stop watching, unable to witness Dean's inner struggle any longer.

That time when he came to Dean's cell, the young man was lying on his side on the thin pallet he was given, one arm clenched around his torso as if to keep himself together and the other hand clasping the amulet around his neck. Castiel had witnessed Dean receiving the gift from Sam when they were children, and he knew it was likely the only source of comfort Dean still possessed. He stood there for a while, silent, before Dean noticed and he closed his eyes tiredly.

"Oh, God, you just don't stop, do you?" the young man asked.

"I just want to help you, Dean," Castiel said quietly.

"Yeah, and use me as your poster boy for the apocalypse or whatever," Dean grunted.

Castiel sighed and lowered himself to sit against the bars of the cell, his back to Dean. "I know you suffer here, Dean. Maybe more now than you did on Alastair's rack."

"What do you know?" Dean scoffed.

"I know you are in pain, and that you don't want this. It's not your fault, Dean. Any man would break under the tortures Alastair subjected you to. He was under orders to break you."

"So you're saying I never had a chance?"

Castiel closed his eyes, knowing he couldn't tell Dean about breaking the Seal. Not only was he not supposed to, but he couldn't put that on him too. "It was Lilith's order. But you can still fight this and come with me."

"And be your errand boy instead?" Dean asked. "No offense, but I'm not actually angel material."

"You may have certain immoral practices but you are a good man at heart," Castiel told him.

"Thanks, I guess."

Castiel looked back at him over his shoulder then. "Whatever you decide to do once I bring you back, Dean, that's your choice, but I will get you out of here in any case."

"So I do have a choice?"

"The future is already written, and what was meant to happen will, no matter which road you take to get there," Castiel told him.

"Okay, Yoda," Dean grunted and Castiel heard him shift, sitting up now.

"Besides," Castiel told him. "Sam needs you. He is…destined for a dark path, and you are the only one who can pull him back from that."

Dean swallowed hard. "Sammy," he said quietly.

"For whatever reason you choose, Dean, you need to go back. You were not supposed to end up here in hell. It was your love for Sam that brought you here, and it's destroying him."

"Stop," Dean whispered and Castiel could see him swallowing down his emotion.

"We are not the only ones who need you, Dean."

Dean was quiet for a long time and Castiel waited patiently for him to speak. Finally, the man opened his mouth. "If I do go with you, and that's an if, can you promise me that Sam will be okay? That this 'dark path' or destiny crap that's hanging over him will go away?"

Castiel gave a wry look. "I can't promise that, Dean. As with you, fate is fate. Destiny is not so easy to erase."

"So there's really nothing in this for me? For Sammy?" Dean demanded.

"There's everything for you," Castiel replied. "You would no longer be under Alastair's control, you can go back to doing good; because you and your brother always did good, Dean, even when you made mistakes. That's why we need you, because you're the only ones who can help us."

"It's too much," Dean told him, shaking his head. "I'm sorry—Cas, was it?—but I'm done. Everything I touch breaks, and I ruin everything I try to do with good intentions. You wouldn't have a chance with me on your team so it's probably best I stay here."

"Dean—" Castiel tried, then heard a commotion down the halls. He got to his feet, his blade slipping from his sleeve instinctively.

"You better go," Dean told him. "They'll kill you if they find you here."

"I'll be back," Castiel told him.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Dean said with a bitter chuckle.

Castiel hurried out of the cells and darted down a side corridor he usually used to get back to his hiding place, when he literally ran into a tall figure standing in the way. He looked up, seeing Alastair's amused smile. He raised his blade and was about to strike, but Alastair grabbed his wrist and throat and slammed him back against the wall, hard enough to daze him.

"I thought I smelled feathers and righteousness," the demon smirked, squeezing Castiel's wrist tighter until his fingers dropped the blade nervelessly. "Hello, little birdy."

Alastair threw Castiel into one of the torture chambers, slamming him against the wall and roughly manacling his hands above his head. Castiel fought but Alastair was stronger than he was, especially after his long stay in hell, and he soon found himself hanging helpless, trying to quell the despair he felt at the thought that he had failed.

Alastair held Castiel's angel blade, inspecting the silver metal with a smile on his face. "So, angel, what should I do with you, hm? What are you doing so far from home?"

Castiel yanked at the manacles and Alastair tsked. "Enochian sigils. You're not going anywhere, little birdy." He pressed the blade to Castiel's cheek. "You came for Dean, didn't you? You do realize you're too late."

"It doesn't matter," Castiel told the demon. "He'll still stop it."

Alastair laughed, tracing the blade down Castiel's cheek to his jaw, leaving a trail of blood and grace in his wake. The angel winced, but didn't let it phase him. "Oh please. Did you see him? He's hardly capable of stopping the apocalypse. I've made sure of that. He's only damaged goods now."

"He is not beyond saving," Castiel insisted.

Alastair smiled then, a look that made Castiel suddenly uneasy. "Why don't we put that to the test, shall we? Call his name, see who he runs to." He took the blade away from Castiel and slipped it into his belt before he left the room.

Castiel tried again to get free, but the manacles were warded against that attempt and he finally gave up and sagged against the wall, feeling more and more defeated as he went on. But not nearly as much as when he saw Alastair enter to room again with Dean in tow.

"See, Dean? A little present for you," the demon smirked as he pushed the young man forward.

"Dean," Castiel said, trying to straighten up but he was only on his toes.

The man's face showed some hidden emotion, maybe hopelessness, Castiel wasn't sure, but he took a step backward as he saw the angel hanging there in chains.

"You," he said.

"He's been bothering you, hasn't he, my boy?" Alastair appealed to Dean, putting a hand on his shoulder and propelling him forward so he was only standing a couple feet from Castiel. "I caught him skulking in the halls. I was going to take care of him myself, but thought you might like to get in on some of the fun."

"Why bother?" Dean asked, turning from Castiel, seeming unable to look at him. "There's probably more of them around. It's best to get rid of him now."

Castiel's stomach clenched, wondering if Dean really did just want to kill him and be done with him. But Alastair wasn't having that.

"Oh, no, that would be foolish, a waste of opportunity. That's why I think you should do it, Dean." He held out the angel blade for Dean, but the young man made no move to take it.

"No," he said.

Alastair looked angry. "What he said to you was a lie. He can't get you out of here, you belong to me, Dean, your soul belongs to me. And he is only a lowly soldier, and weakened by his time here, unable to smite me. You owe him nothing, but I am your master."

"He's not worth my time," Dean said. "Now I have work to do."

Alastair grabbed the back of his neck as he started to turn and pulled him forward so he was only several inches from Dean's face. "Do not turn your back on me, boy. You should know better than that. Now watch, just like always, he bleeds like anyone else." Alastair slowly slid the tip of the blade across Castiel's chest and the angel fought not to cry out, as Dean watched with wide eyes at the blood and grace escaping, the blue glow such a contrast to the dark black and red shadows of hell.

"Now you," Alastair once again offered the blade.

"Why?" Dean asked, looking up to meet the demon's eyes. "Why is it so important to you?"

Alastair seethed, shaking the man roughly. "You question me now?"

"Are you worried I might choose him above you, is that it?" Dean demanded.

Alastair slammed the hilt of the blade into his face and threw him to the ground. Dean curled up as if expecting more blows but Alastair only grabbed him by the front of his shirt and yanked him back onto his feet.

"If you don't do as I say, boy, you're going right back on my rack, do you understand?"

Dean shook in his grasp, but his face was defiant. Castiel watched, not saying anything, as Dean slumped again, and the angel's heart with him. Dean took the blade from Alastair and turned to Castiel.

"Dean, you don't have to do this," Castiel tried to tell him.

"I know," Dean said, raising the blade. Castiel steeled himself for the torture he knew was coming from the man he was charged to protect, but Dean suddenly spun around and slammed the hilt of the blade into the side of Alastair's head. The demon yelped in surprise and Dean hit him again and again until he was unconscious or dead, Castiel couldn't tell. Then with shaking hands, Dean liberated the keys from Alastair's belt and turned back to the angel.

"You can really get me out of here?" Dean demanded, before he started unlocking the manacles. "You can get me back home, alive? Same body and everything? I'm kinda sentimental…"

"Yes, Dean," Castiel said, relief flooding him. "I did not lie to you. But we must hurry."

Dean cast a glance back at Alastair and then hurried to unlock Castiel, steadying the angel as he staggered slightly.

"You good?" Dean asked.

Castiel nodded. Dean gave him the blade as if as an afterthought. "Come on, I know a way out where they won't see us."

Castiel followed him out a side door and into a dark corridor.

"Can I ask you a question?" Dean asked.

"Of course," Castiel said.

"Why didn't you just take me out of there? I'm sure you could have, so why wait for me to agree to go with you, and trust me, it wasn't a sure thing. I didn't know who the hell you were, and I'm not in the habit of taking candy from strangers."

"I've watched you all your life, Dean, and I know you need time to trust. I knew I had to give you that. The other angels, they probably would have dragged you out without a thought, but I…well, perhaps I am not as good at following orders, but I believe other things are just as important."

Dean actually smiled a bit. "I can appreciate that. Um, I guess I should say thanks then."

Castiel didn't reply to that. Staying in hell was certainly not ideal, but the angel had a feeling Dean wasn't exactly going to be thanking him when he found out what he had to do. And what had really happened when he got off the rack.

They made it to the end of the corridor and Castiel took the lead then, heading down another side passage. He could feel the exit and he knew they were nearly free. Finally, he stopped at the last stretch and turned to Dean.

"The way out will be difficult," he told the young man. "You must trust me."

"I guess I don't have much of a choice," Dean said wryly.

"Dean, I need you to understand," Castiel began. "When you wake, you will not remember any of this. Anything about how you got out, but I need you to trust me."

"Woah, wait, you mean I won't remember you at all?" Dean asked. "How the hell do you expect me to trust you then? I never even believed angels were real."

"I know," Castiel said with a sad smile. "It's called faith, Dean. I hope you can find it in you to trust me, if no one else. You are my charge and I will look after you and your brother as I always have. You have an important job to do, Dean. I will try to help you in any way I can, but it's important that you make your own way too, your own decisions."

Dean looked like he was going to protest, but then he sighed. "Alright, then, I guess I don't have much say in the matter. So…I guess I'll see you up top?"

Castiel nodded. "I will find you when you wake."

Dean bit his lip and nodded. "Okay then, let's do this."

"This might be unpleasant." Castiel reached out and grabbed Dean's shoulder tightly. There was a rustle of feathers as Castiel spread his wings and then his hand was fiery hot on Dean's skin and the man couldn't help a scream. Castiel could hear the demons approaching again, knew it would be a fight to get out, but he flew and flew until he didn't think he could fly any longer, never letting go of Dean until they were almost to the surface, and then…

Light, air, forest and the lingering ringing of the blast of power in Castiel's ears. He was on his knees in the middle of an explosively cleared patch of land, his hands cradling the ball of light, the soul, of the man who was their only hope for stopping the apocalypse.

Joy, relief, and accomplishment flooded over him and he looked up to the sky, uttering the four simple words: "Dean Winchester is saved."

"Well done, Castiel."

Castiel looked up from where he was kneeling, seeing Zachariah standing there. The other angel was standing over the now open grave and he motioned for Castiel to join him.

Castiel staggered to his feet, exhausted, but happy, happy he had not failed, either his comrades or Dean.

"Your courage was admirable, we took you for dead," Zachariah said in a way that made Castiel wonder if he had been hoping for it. He had never liked Zachariah.

"I could not afford that luxury," he said as he crouched beside the open grave and saw Dean's newly restored body lying there, still unconscious, but whole, no more wounds, no scars, none except the mental ones, for Castiel couldn't take the memories of hell though he wished to do so. And he knew it was going to wear on Dean's soul.

"Well? We don't have time to waste," Zachariah told him, and Castiel looked one last time at the human soul cupped in his hands and then lowered it toward the body, watching as it put Dean back together, his whole body glowing for a moment before it settled and looked, finally, more asleep than dead. The thought of him waking alone, without his brother, without anyone, made Castiel want to stay. Perhaps…perhaps he didn't have to take every hope away from him.

Castiel stood up beside Zachariah. "I must make my report," he said.

Zachariah put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "Forgetting something, brother?"

Castiel didn't look at him, pretending ignorance. "I'm sorry?"

"He cannot be allowed to remember you, Castiel," Zachariah told the other angel.

Castiel looked down at Dean's prone body. "What harm would it really do, Zachariah? Would it not breed more trust?"

Zachariah shook his head seeming oddly satisfied. "It would be ill advised. He has a destiny to fulfill, Castiel, and you cannot interfere with it. You will still be a guide to him, but you must start from the beginning. It is the only way it will work."

"But he trusted me," Castiel said. "Dean does not trust easily, it might be profitable to have at least one angel he trusts…"

"These are our orders, Castiel, will you defy them?"

Castiel immediately cast his eyes down, a vague, fuzzy remembrance of the last time he had defied orders swimming somewhere in his subconscious. "No. It's just that…"

"It's easier this way," Zachariah told him, clapping a hand to his shoulder in what Castiel knew as false kindness. He shifted away from the other angel. "The task ahead of him will not be easy, you might have to do things against his best interests. It will be easier for the both of you if he doesn't remember your little friendly chit-chats in hell."

Castiel was silent, his jaw clenched, something frighteningly akin to defiance welling up inside of him. The other angel leaned close to him.

"Erase his memories of the rescue or I will," Zachariah said in no uncertain terms. "And then I'll take them from you as well."

Castiel felt a slight panic, and fought it down, nodding finally as he knelt at the side of the grave and bent to press his hand against Dean's forehead. "I'm sorry," he whispered so that Zachariah couldn't hear and he closed his eyes and erased the memories from Dean's head, but not so cleanly that Dean wouldn't feel a certain, incomprehensible trust when he saw him next. A faint glow from the handprint shaped burn on Dean's shoulder—the cost of Castiel's rescue—answered. After all, he was Dean Winchester's guardian angel, it was only right.

Zachariah looked satisfied with Castiel's obedience as the lesser angel stood again and Zachariah waved a hand, putting the grave back to the way it was.

"It is done. We have work to do, Castiel."

"Yes," Castiel replied quietly, feeling as if he had already betrayed the human who was his charge.

"But first," Zachariah said, gripping his shoulder tightly this time. "We need to make some adjustments in your obedience."

Castiel looked up at him in alarm. "Zachariah, please, it's not necessary. I will perform my duty as asked."

"Oh, I think it is, Castiel." He smiled briskly as if it was just another walk in the park. "Don't worry, you'll remember the important parts, just not those pesky emotions that so often get in the way of your judgment."

Castiel cast one last look at the grave, knowing protest was useless, as he allowed Zachariah to take him back to heaven though everything in him protested.