A/N: I got a fantastic review from a reader not signed in, Loreley, and I wanted to go ahead and address your point ^_^ As you [quite reasonably] wondered, why didn't Chuck just heal Gabriel, instead of taking him? The explanation didn't really fit into this story, but I have an entire head canon that Gabriel is meant to take charge of Heaven, being the last archangel standing, and given how terrible the other three were/would have been at it. But not yet. I feel like Chuck is waiting for something before he sends Gabe in, when the timing is "right" (whatever that means). And none of this is backed up by canon, of course, it's purely the way I see it. ^_^ So for this story, Chuck needed to take Gabriel away so they could have a good, long, overdue heart-to-heart (and because Chuck isn't always the greatest dad and didn't think about how Cas could really use his big brother being around a bit longer). So unfortunately, Gabriel isn't really "home" yet, but I have every faith that one day he will be! GREAT question, though, and thank you for the kind words :)

Thanks also Katherine, you're too sweet! ^_^

One last humongous thank you to Aini NuFire, who has been absolutely indispensable and patient. Aini, you started this plot bunny running through my head, so thanks for that, too... I hope this fic satisfied that request :)

Chapter 17 – Only One Goes Home

Castiel didn't want to wake up. Every part of him hurt and he was too warm, but freezing cold at the same time. It took him a moment to remember why his grace felt so distant, so diminished. He remembered that they had locked the Darkness away. He remembered that he'd given Gabriel permission to enter his body, and he remembered that the archangel had succeeded where Castiel had not, evicting Lucifer from the vessel. He knew they'd taken Lucifer back to Hell, and…

The angel's throat tightened. He remembered Gabriel dying in his arms. Or, perhaps not dying. Even an archangel left marks when their grace burned out for the last time. No, God must have stepped in at last.

That was where memory faded. Castiel thought he could remember snippets of conversation, but nothing else. Had he spoken to Sam, perhaps? Were they still angry with him for freeing Lucifer from the Cage in the first place?

Not knowing where he was frayed the angel's nerves. He could feel a presence beside him, but when he shifted, no one spoke up. The combination of silence and darkness took the angel right back to the prison he'd been isolated in for so long, sending a wave of panic through his mind before he remembered that he was free. Inhaling deeply, Castiel peeled his eyelids open, taking in the scene. The bunker… this was the room in the bunker that he occasionally used when he was invited in. And the presence beside him…

Castiel tilted his head, seeing Sam's mop of hair on top of the covers. He was sitting in the chair beside the bed, and it looked as though he'd decided to rest his head for a second and then fell asleep. Dean was nowhere in sight.

"No," Sam muttered in his sleep, twitching. "No, don't… don't!" He groaned softly and the sound made Castiel's heart sink in his chest. This was his fault. No wonder Dean wasn't there. After everything, he would have deserved no less than for the hunter to never speak to him again. Castiel had endangered Sam, and for Dean, that was the worst of all mortal sins.

Sam twitched again, jerking in response to whatever his nightmares were showing him. Castiel had a pretty fair guess what that might be. He was just trying to decide if he was brave enough to wake the hunter from the nightmare and face his anger when Sam jolted up from the bed with wide eyes. For a second, the two stared at each other without speaking. Then, Sam blinked and took several deep breaths.

"Cas… you're- you're awake," he murmured. The hunter ran a hand through his hair, using the motion to disguise a hasty wipe of his eyes. "How you doing, man?"

Castiel kept staring, feeling hollow. Sam was dreaming of Lucifer. Because of Castiel. He had brought those horrible things back, by allowing the Devil in. He had nearly condemned Sam and Dean to an eternity of every vile torture that Lucifer could concoct.

"I'm sorry," Castiel whispered, surprised again to hear how cracked and broken his voice was. His throat felt raw, burned. Probably Lucifer's grace being forced out had done quite a bit of damage. "…Sorry," the angel choked out again, closing his eyes. He was burning. It was all he deserved, though.

"No," Sam replied, grabbing the angel's arm, but there was gentleness in the gesture instead of threat. "Cas, you've got nothing to apologize for, you hear me?"

"It's my fault. I know what Lucifer did to you-"

"It doesn't matter. Cas, none of that matters. As long as we've got you back." Sam was smiling when the angel opened his eyes, albeit a little pale still, but he seemed to be taking comfort from his grip on Castiel's arm because he didn't let go. The human hesitated, then said, "I'm the one who should be apologizing. Cas, I never meant for you to end up with him."

Castiel shook his head and pushed himself up in the bed, wincing as the motion made his body ache. Sam jumped up to help him, easing the angel to a more comfortable position with the pillows propped behind him. When Castiel glanced down at his torso, he was surprised to see a bandage over the wound from where Gabriel had stabbed himself. Gabriel…

"My memory… it's fuzzy," he admitted. "Did Gabriel… is he…?"

Sam looked away, regret clear in his face. "We're not sure, honestly," he admitted. "We think maybe… God stepped in to take him away. Dean swears he felt something there. But there were no marks from his wings, and I don't think he was in any shape to fly on his own. He said he'd see you again."

"He said a lot of things," Castiel murmured. It was coming back a little. Most of it preposterous, of course. Something about being the only hope for the angels? What was that supposed to mean? How was he supposed to help them when he could barely help himself? Yet, one thing he remembered clearly:

Three angels walk into a bar. Only one went home.

Gabriel had known all along exactly what he was doing, and for some unfathomable reason had deemed Castiel a worthy exchange for his own life. The angel couldn't wrap his mind around that. He remembered the rest of the story, though, how apparently his deepest desire was a place with Dean and Sam, to belong with them as a family he had lost a long time ago. How easily Gabriel had read him, because that was, indeed, the one thing he wanted more than anything.

"You brought me back to the bunker," Castiel murmured, partly because he wasn't sure what else to say. Sam looked around, then nodded.

"Of course we did. And hey… Dean's here, too, he's not mad or anything. He was going to fix some dinner, that's all. Or at least that's what he said before I dozed off. You've been out for a while." Sam paused. Then, he reached one hand up and settled it against the angel's forehead.

Castiel frowned. "What are you doing?"

Sam jerked his hand back, clearing his throat. "Sorry. Just… you still feel kinda warm."

"It's… hot," Castiel agreed. He shivered, though, not sure why his body felt so odd.

"You've been feverish. I don't know if you got an infection, or…?"

When he trailed off, watching the angel with a questioning look, Castiel shook his head. "No, I don't believe I'm susceptible to human diseases. My grace is low at the moment. But I'm not ill. The fever will pass."

Sam nodded, seeming to accept this. His voice dropped to a rough whisper as he asked, "Cas… how are you doing? I know Lucifer's not exactly gentle."

No. No, he was not. Castiel shrugged, feeling the tiny ball of grace in his chest thrumming away, recovering a miniscule bit at a time. "I wasn't allowed to recharge fully," the angel explained. "He kept taking most of my power away to make sure I couldn't fight him. It was… exhausting. I imagine it'll take some time to recover completely." He caught Sam's eye, then hung his head. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be a burden. I don't need it fully replenished to survive, so you can have the room back-"

"What?" Sam interrupted, eyes widening. "Cas, no! No, this is your room, we don't want it back. You're not a burden. I meant how are you, after everything you went through. It's just… I know Lucifer will try to mess with your head. He tried to convince me of all kinds of things that weren't true, so I just thought… if there's anything I can clear up…?"

Castiel didn't raise his head. His mind flashed through all the things that Lucifer had shown him… being trapped in a cage, watching other angels be tortured, Sam and Dean offering him up to the demons, the bunker burning down around him, his own hands attacking the two Winchesters and their hatred for him because of it…

"The bunker?" he finally asked, still hoarse.

Sam reached over to the bedside table where a glass of water sat. He offered it to the angel, who took it and drank with relief at the cool sensation soothing his raw throat. "Earlier," Sam started, watching him, "you said something about it burning?"

"He used that one several times," Castiel admitted. "I was afraid perhaps he was using it to weaken my defenses and inch further into my mind, perhaps figure out its secrets so he could attack. I tried to keep all information of it locked away, but…"

Sam gave him a sad smile and shook his head. "He never got in once we figured out he'd taken you," he assured the angel. "We took down all the warding after bringing you back. No sign of him, or anyone else. You did good, Cas. Hell, you were… incredible. As much as you suffered, and you still just kept fighting. I mean, anyone else would've given up. But not you. You saved us, man, you really did. And don't worry about the bunker. It's still safe."

Safe. Even now, Castiel couldn't feel safe. The only time in his life he'd ever felt truly and utterly at ease had been the one night he'd spent here as a human, thinking he would be able to stay forever, only to be removed the very next morning. He was a soldier; there'd been no such thing as safety before that, or since. Not that he could fault Dean in the slightest, of course.

"And, did I…" Castiel swallowed, not sure he could handle the answer, if it wasn't favorable. "Did I… hurt you? Or Dean?"

His heart clenched when Sam looked away, but the hunter only shook his head. "No," he murmured. "You didn't."

The angel exhaled in shaky relief, though he still couldn't relax. At the time, it had been easy to know what was real and what wasn't, that Sam and Dean and the young fledglings and the bunker were all safe. Now, the warrior was desperate for that reassurance.

"Cas, you know we don't blame you for any of it, right?" Sam asked now. "You know, you were talking in your sleep, and… well, you said some things."

"I'm sorry," the angel immediately said, but Sam waved him off.

"No. Please, Cas, please stop apologizing. It just made me realize how much you might think we hold against you. You said you… broke everything. Cas, we've all broken things. But you've gone above and beyond to help us put everything back together again, every single time. Even when it wasn't your fault. Even when we would have deserved it if you'd left us, but you never did."

Castiel wasn't sure what to say to that. It- it felt good to hear… even if he didn't quite have enough optimism to believe it yet. His eyelids fluttered closed again, though he tried to force them to stay open. Beside him, he heard Sam's voice, soothing and comfortingly present, urging,

"Rest, Cas. You're exhausted. Sleep it off… we'll be here when you wake up."

Castiel didn't remember having actually fallen back asleep, but when he woke again, most of the uncomfortable heat had dissipated, and Dean was watching him from the other side of the bed. As soon as Castiel met his gaze, the hunter sat up straighter with an expression of relief.

"Cas?" he asked. "God, I was getting worried, buddy. How do you feel? Do you need to eat? You know, how's your, um… your grace doing?"

The angel looked from Dean to his other side, where Sam was quickly putting his book down and leaning in closer as well. Castiel made a mental sweep of his body, finding little left to be healed. He still felt far too weak, but at least he was no longer burning. With the fever gone, the confusion that had settled over his mind cleared away as well. Though he didn't precisely need to eat, he did feel empty. He just wasn't sure it was something that food would fill.

"I'll be fine," he said. "I believe my body is mostly healed now. I don't need food."

"You're sure? I can whip up some more soup. Or… what about a PB&J?"

Castiel shook his head. "No. Thank you." Suddenly, the walls felt just a little too close. After being trapped in one position for what Castiel assumed had been months—though he actually wasn't sure how long he had been held captive—sitting still was making him anxious. The angel was still exhausted, and really didn't feel up to much, but he also wasn't sure how long he could remain in that room, in that bed, before losing his mind.

He could see the Winchesters exchanging a swift look as his own gaze fluttered around the room, unfocused but full of nervous energy. When Dean cleared his throat, Castiel instinctively braced himself.

"So, uh, the fever broke about an hour ago."

"Cas, can we check the bandage?" Sam asked, holding up a hand but not moving it towards Castiel until he'd nodded. The younger hunter nodded back, then carefully peeled aside the dressing. There was still a red mark where Gabriel had stabbed himself, but the wound was closed up and the surrounding skin was pink and, Castiel assumed, healthy looking.

"Whoa, that's way better than before," Dean told him with a raised eyebrow. "Think you can move?"

Castiel nodded without a word. He pushed himself up in the bed as evidence, not feeling the same soreness as the first time he had tried it. Physically, this was an obvious improvement.

"Okay, well…" Dean went on, trading another quick look with Sam. "Good. We haven't wanted to leave with you still asleep, but now that you're up… why don't you come for a drive with me? We, uh… we need to talk."

Castiel's heart sank, throat tightening in anguish. Right. He was on the mend now, he could handle himself from here. It wasn't that he'd actually believed the two would want him to stay, but the angel had held onto the selfish hope that he would at least have a little more time before they decided to drop him off somewhere. Just a little bit more time to spend in the one place he'd ever felt safe in, even if only for one night. But he certainly wasn't going to refuse, when it was probably for the best.

"Okay," Castiel whispered. "Um…" The angel looked around, arms wrapping around himself. "Would it be alright if… can I at least have my coat?"

Dean's forehead wrinkled up in confusion. "Huh? Yeah, of course. It's right over here with your shirt. We only took it off so we could bandage you up."

"Thank you." And truly, he was grateful, as he wasn't exactly entitled to the stolen coat. "It's just… it's all I have." Perhaps it was silly to want it so badly; Castiel couldn't actually get cold as long as he was an angel, but it felt like a part of him, his identity. The idea of being alone was hard enough. To do it without even that much was more than he could stand.

Sam had moved to grab the shirt and trench coat, but now he clutched them with a white-knuckled hand, frozen halfway to giving them back to the angel. His eyes were flooded with horror as he gasped and exclaimed,

"Wait… Cas, you're coming back with Dean!"

"What the- I'm not gonna leave you out there!" Dean protested, sounding equally horrified, and a little sick. "Cas, no, I'm not just gonna drive you out somewhere and ditch you! I just wanted to bring the Impala back and figured you could probably use some fresh air!"

"Oh." The relief was so immediate, so immense, that Castiel felt his body loosen a bit from the tension he'd been holding in, the fear that they would once again ask him to leave the bunker for good. Not that the angel couldn't make it on his own; he could.

He just didn't want to. Not again.

"Come on," Dean muttered, turning for the door.

Castiel swallowed, reaching for his clothes. The buttons of the shirt were a little difficult to manage as his hands were still stiff, and he didn't bother with the tie at all as he heaved himself off the bed. The room spun a bit, forcing the angel to take a deep breath and wait for it to settle down as Sam grabbed his shoulder to steady him. Once Cas felt like his legs would hold him, he followed Dean out and up the stairs to the front door. He pulled the trench coat on and wrapped it firmly around himself, feeling childish for needing the security blanket but not willing to give it up just yet.

The sun was shining when they stepped out into the open air, so fresh and light that Castiel had to stop and close his eyes. He took a deep breath in, relishing the simple freedom of daylight, of having control over his own body. Dean didn't try to rush him, didn't even shift in impatience. When the angel opened his eyes, his friend was watching him passively, waiting until Castiel moved forward before leading the way to the nondescript car that they must have arrived in.

It was a nearly three hour drive to where the Winchesters had left their car while hunting for a way to defeat Amara and save him. Though Dean had mentioned needing to talk, the trip there was silent. Castiel focused mainly on breathing and holding back any residual feelings of uncertainty or panic. He thought about how hard the Winchesters had fought to come up with any means of rescuing him from Lucifer, and felt minutely better. It only made him feel guiltier for having put them in the position where they might have had to choose between him or the rest of the world, as he was starting to wonder whether it would have been as easy a choice for them as it ought.

But they had been praying all along, never giving up on him, if Gabriel was to be trusted. And… Castiel did trust the archangel. If he truly was still alive, if God had rescued him, then perhaps they would meet again and Castiel could more adequately thank his brother for keeping him going. Had it not been for Gabriel's intervention in his solitude, the soothing distraction of his voice, Castiel knew he would have lost himself. And, he'd heard how fiercely Sam had maintained that they would do anything to save him. He'd heard how stubbornly Dean had tried to reach him every time he was faced with Lucifer, just in case Castiel was able to listen. More, Dean had dove in front of the Devil to shield Castiel with his own body.

And even now, they weren't trying to send him away as they had done before.

Castiel didn't know what to think.

Collecting the Impala and turning it back towards the bunker was another immense relief, not because Castiel was tired of the trip, but because Dean had kept his word and not abandoned him there. The angel also found that the car wasn't nearly as confining as he had once deemed it. Besides, the open road rolling by under the wheels was a more relaxing view than the utter darkness he'd been kept in for so long.

"So," Dean finally said after nearly an hour into the return trip. "How you doing? You good? I mean, you know, the whole Lucifer thing."

Castiel tensed fearing a condemnation for his actions. "I was just… so stupid." And though Amara and Lucifer were gone, his stupidity had endangered his friends.

"No, no, no." Dean sighed and glanced at the angel. "It wasn't stupid. I mean, I hate him for what he did to you, and I would've done anything to protect you from him. I'll never be okay with that. Never."

"Or what he would have done to you," the angel murmured. He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again when only pained silence followed. "Dean, I- I'm so sorry. I should be asking if you're alright. I know you heard him… with Sam, I mean. And he stabbed you. I stabbed you. I would understand you being angry-"

"Not at you, Cas. At him. It's fine. I mean, I'm not fine, don't get me wrong. Just like I know you and Sam aren't really fine. But I, uh... I really don't wanna talk about that, and none of it was your fault. You know, you did save the world. Me and Sam wouldn't have done it, but you stepped up."

"I was just trying to help," Castiel admitted, voice small and uncertain.

"Well, and you do help, Cas." Dean sighed again. "You know, sometimes me and Sam have got so much going on that… we forget about everyone else."

The angel heard deep regret in his friend's voice. The last thing he wanted was for the Winchesters to feel guilty, so he shook his head. "Well, you do live exciting lives," he offered.

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, that's one word for it. But you're always there, you know?" He turned to Castiel, serious but smiling lightly. "You're the best friend we've ever had. You're our brother, Cas. I want you to know that."

Stunned, Castiel didn't even know what to say. Dean, who would spin any line in order to attract a female, who would bullshit his way out of any situation, would not toss out a word like "brother" lightly. True feelings were kept close to the vest, but this echoed with sincerity and authenticity.

He… meant it.

"Thank you." Castiel swallowed hard, fighting back sudden tears. He wasn't sure where they were coming from, as he was no longer in any real pain. His body and spirit had responded to the change of scenery, the sunlight and fresh air doing wonders to healing him the rest of the way. His grace was still struggling to replenish fully, but within a few more days he should be back to full strength, provided he didn't use any of the power he had recovered.

Maybe… maybe things would actually work themselves back together, given time.

"I'm serious," Dean assured him, glancing at the angel again. "I mean, I should have been doing everything I could to make sure you knew that. But it's always been true. God, there's been so much I've just totally screwed up with you. And I know 'sorry' won't do you much good now, but… I just want you to know… I am sorry. And we're gonna do better, me and Sam. I mean, you feeling expendable, that's on us. 'Cause you're not. Never were. And you've got a place with us, always."

Castiel took in a deep breath, not trusting his voice to answer. He nodded, returning Dean's look with silent gratitude. He didn't think there were any words to express the emotions his heart carried, in any case.

Clearing his throat, Dean turned back to face the road. "Anyway. Let's get you home."

Smiling, Castiel twisted to watch the open country pass by. He was still afraid that he would see Lucifer if he closed his eyes, still felt a heaviness on his shoulders as though a yoke were settled there, still worried about his usefulness. He still hated what he had brought down on the Winchesters. Particularly for putting Sam back in an old nightmare, and for introducing Dean to a new one that he hadn't needed to add to his pile.

They would all have a lot of healing to do. Looking up at the sky, Castiel wondered where Gabriel was now… if he was watching, if he was with God, if he was driving their father crazy yet with bad jokes and his outrageous nature.

Thank you, Gabriel.

He turned back to face front as the two-lane asphalt carried them towards the bunker, a safe-house.

Three angels walked into a bar.

But it was time for Cas to go back home.

Fin

A/N: Can you believe this is already over? Thank you so much again to everyone who's read, reviewed, followed, favorited, etc =) You all make writing such a joy, and I've LOVED getting to meet some of you and chat a bit. You all are what makes this fandom great. Until next time, my friends... always keep fighting ^_^