A/N: Another story coming to a close. Thank you so much to everyone who gave this fic a shot despite the OC and the romance. I'm still blown away people liked it so much. ^_^

Chapter 8

Sam made his way through the bunker hall and into the kitchen. He was feeling such immense relief that he wanted to pop open a beer to celebrate. Cas was okay. Dean was okay. Nobody died—permanently—and there was no big threat hanging over the world. For once in their lives, everything was just good.

He grabbed two beers from the fridge and passed one to Dean, who had followed him out of Cas's room. The sight of the angel kissing Ryn still made Sam's mouth quirk in amusement. Cas was no virgin, but the Winchesters should probably sit him down for a few pointers…and, ugh, some ground rules about what not to do in the bunker. At least not when Sam and Dean were home.

Sam popped the cap off his beer and took a seat at the kitchen table. "Looks like Cas liked what he remembered. He was worried about that." Sam was intensely curious about everything that happened in Egypt, but he could wait before bringing it up with the angel. Cas and Ryn obviously needed some time to get reacquainted.

"Hm," Dean mumbled, taking a slow sip of his own beer.

"Dude, come on. Cas is fine. We're all fine."

Dean pulled out a chair and plopped into it. "Yeah, and now that Cas got his memories back, he'll probably take off with Ryn. Go…settle down or something."

Sam lifted his brows incredulously. "Really? You seriously see Cas settling down, ever?"

Dean shrugged. "He did it once, after the Leviathan."

"Okay, but that time he had full amnesia." Sam shook his head in exasperation. What was up with his brother?

Then it hit him. "You don't want Cas to leave," he said in understanding.

Dean knocked back a swig of beer. "He can do whatever he wants. And it's not like I've ever given him reason to stick around before."

Sam sighed. Neither of them had done a great job with that in the past. He still remembered Cas's utter surprise when Dean had shown the angel that he had his own room in the bunker.

"Cas knows better now," Sam said. "And, you know…" He gave his brother a pointed look. "It's not like Ryn has to be unwelcome around here. You really have a problem with them coming as a package deal? Because I actually don't."

Yeah, it would change the dynamics, and they'd obviously have to make some adjustments. But Sam hadn't seen Cas look that happy in…well, shit, a really long time. Maybe ever. Cas deserved someone like Ryn.

Dean slowly rotated his bottle between his fingers. "No, I don't have a problem with that. She might, though."

Sam slumped in his seat. Way for his brother to bring down the mood. "Dean," he said gently. "Even if Cas does leave to be with her, it's not like it'll be goodbye forever."

"I don't know, Sam, wasn't that what you'd wanted when you went off to Stanford?"

Sam blinked at his brother. Dean was bringing up that? Sam's first gut reaction was to angrily point out that he'd been trying to have a normal life, that he was running away from Dad and his screwed up hunting lifestyle, not Dean…

He forced himself to take a calming breath. They didn't need to rehash all that. Besides, Sam's leaving wasn't the heart of the issue here; the issue was Dean's perception of being abandoned. That was always the issue.

Sam set his beer aside and folded his arms across the table. "We've always tried to live all-or-nothing—all in with hunting, or all in with the apple pie life. Never something in between. But maybe it's not impossible, Dean, to have both. And hey, it's not like Cas is gonna go off and have a wife and house with a white picket fence. He's an angel and she's a phoenix for crying out loud."

Dean grunted. "They could, if they wanted. You never know."

Sam rolled his eyes. He sincerely doubted that, but let the point go. "Talk to him, then. Ask him what he wants." Sam grabbed his beer and stood up. "Because you're right; if you don't tell Cas flat out that he's still always welcome here, he might assume he's expected to leave."

Sam left his brother to contemplate that parting note, and hoped Dean would get over himself long enough to actually have that conversation with Cas. But if he didn't, Sam would. Because he'd worked too hard to keep his family together, and he was not letting their emotional constipation ruin all that.

Castiel couldn't stop staring at Ryn, couldn't stop reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, lightly tracing her jawline, running his hand down her arm. She was both tangible and a ghost, and he was still feeling too overwhelmed to fully process everything.

All those memories…all those years. Naomi had taken so much from him, from both of them.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, stroking her face. "I'm so sorry."

Ryn captured his hand in hers. "It wasn't your fault."

"What you must have thought of me when I showed up outside your cabin," he said, heart clenching with remorse first, and then loosening as he marveled, "and yet you still helped."

She gave him a small smile. "Always, Castiel. Though, I have to say, your growing propensity for recklessness is becoming a disconcerting pattern."

He could easily make the argument that he had always been reckless—sneaking away from his post to cultivate a friendship with an Alpha, risking disobedience in order to save her. Apparently there were some things Naomi couldn't alter, no matter how hard she'd tried.

"It has always been worth it."

Ryn huffed out an exasperated sigh, but her eyes were tender. "Well, it is nice to finally be remembered." She got up off the floor and took a seat on the edge of the mattress.

Castiel pushed himself up to lean against the headboard. He felt stiff and achy, and he turned his gaze inward for a moment, focusing on the other aspect he could hardly believe in all this.

"How did you get my original grace back? Only Metatron knew…" Castiel trailed off at Ryn's sober expression. His heart stuttered, and he bolted upright. "What did Sam and Dean do?"

"Proved beyond a shadow of doubt how much they care for you," she replied calmly. "And we snuck into Heaven and broke Metatron out."

Castiel gaped at her. "You didn't." No, no, no, this was not what he wanted. "Metatron is too dangerous. He can't be trusted—"

"He's dead."

Castiel blinked. "What?"

Ryn regarded him in all seriousness. "Metatron is dead. I killed him."

Castiel slowly sank back against the headboard, too stunned to continue holding himself up. He had spared Metatron before, when the angels had dethroned the Scribe. Many had advocated his swift execution, but Castiel had petitioned for mercy instead of judgement. It had been the right decision; Castiel had wanted the violence between angels to end.

But…that wasn't to say it still didn't get under Castiel's skin that the Scribe was still alive. After everything Metatron had done, the atrocities he'd committed—including killing Dean and turning him into a demon—those things still haunted Castiel. To know, once and for all, that the Scribe was no longer a threat, well, that did bring him some sense of relief.

"You and the Winchesters…broke into Heaven?" he repeated.

Ryn's mouth quirked before turning sober again. "That's a story for another time. How's the state of your grace?"

Castiel opened his mouth to respond that he was fine, but hesitated. The pointed look she was giving him confirmed that he couldn't lie to her; she could see past it.

"It's…damaged."

Ryn nodded slowly, waiting for him to continue, letting him be the one to put it into words.

"When Metatron cut out my grace and used it for the spell," he began. "I thought it was gone forever. The spell was irreversible, as you know. The grace that was leftover…" Castiel sighed. "It's enough that I am no longer dying, but…I will never be restored to what I was."

Ryn gazed at him with sadness. "I saw your wings."

Castiel's throat constricted. He was ashamed she had to see that. Sam and Dean had probably seen the shadows, too, which were no less horrific than the actual sight. Brittle bone and raw flesh, kinked feathers…where there was plumage at all.

"I lost my wings in the fall," he said quietly, "and came to terms with it then."

Ryn was silent for a moment. "They looked broken."

He rolled his shoulder, the pain in his wings distant when they were slightly detached, incorporeal on the ethereal plane.

"Castiel," she prompted. "I'll be gentle."

A lump swelled in his throat. He did not want to do this…and yet he could not deny that Ryn was right; the wings needed tending or their state would only decline.

"There is no fixing them," he said under his breath.

"That's no reason to endure the pain," she responded.

Castiel let out a shuddering breath, and pushed himself up to lean forward. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on manifesting his wings on the physical plane. Bringing them over was nearly excruciating as joints grated and cold air wafted over exposed gashes. Castiel fisted his hands in the bedsheets and gritted his teeth to keep from making a sound.

The mattress dipped as Ryn moved, and a second later soothing warmth suffused into one of the wounds like a balm. Castiel felt his muscles relax, and he finally opened his eyes. Though he couldn't see what Ryn was doing, he felt the tendrils of her fire ghosting over his wings, not hot enough to burn, but enough to purify some of the putrid wounds and ease the ache in the joints. Castiel sank into her touch.

"Thank you," he murmured.

She didn't speak while she worked, gradually moving from the base of his shoulder blades and down to the tip of each wing. Once finished, Castiel was able to return them to the ethereal plane without any pain.

Ryn scooted around the edge of the bed to face him again. "So, what do we do now?"

Castiel's mouth turned down. That, he did not know.

Dean knew Sam was right, that he needed to talk to Cas before they had any more misunderstandings between them. Because Dean did have a crappy track record with that. But he just didn't do chick flick moments. So despite knowing his brother had a point, Dean still went to hide out in the garage and tinker on one of the Men of Letters' classic automobiles.

The problem with taking refuge in his typical spot was that people knew where to find him. Dean glanced up from the engine block as the door creaked open and Cas stepped into the garage.

"Hey, man," Dean greeted nonchalantly. "You feeling better?"

"Yes," Cas replied, coming over and sweeping his gaze over the 1932 Lincoln KB V12. "Ryn told me what you did for me. I don't know whether to thank you or tell you how foolish you all were."

Dean snorted. "Trust me, you always say thank you to the girlfriend."

Cas lifted eyes heavy with emotion to meet his. "I am grateful, Dean."

He nodded, but then waved it off. "You've done the same for me."

Cas shifted his weight in apparent discomfort, and Dean braced himself for what he'd been expecting.

"I need to go retrieve my car from Ohio."

Dean blinked. "Oh, right. You need a ride?"

A muscle in Cas's jaw ticked. "Um, actually, Ryn was going to accompany me. We…need some time to discuss…things."

Dean slowly frowned. "Dude, that sounds like the beginnings of a break-up speech. What happened in the short time of you getting your memories back and now?"

Cas kept fidgeting. "Nothing. It's just…those memories…it was a long time ago. Things are different now."

"Yeah, for one thing you're not gonna get dragged back to Heaven for hanging with a phoenix."

"There are other things to consider," Cas argued.

Dean set his tools aside. "Like what? There's no Apocalypse looming, no potentially world-ending evil running around."

"At the moment."

Dean shot his friend a dry look. "Yeah, well, at the moment, you've got no ties, nothing holding you back."

Cas's eyes crinkled at that, and Dean's stomach clenched. Right, he was doing it again.

"I mean there's nothing holding you back from seeing where things go with Ryn. Hell, start with just simple dates if it makes you feel better. How far away does she live from here?"

Cas tilted his head in confusion. "She has a cabin in Montana."

Oh. That wasn't a quick drive, but it wasn't the longest. Too bad Cas couldn't zap to and fro anymore.

Dean reached up to rub the back of his neck. "Uh, okay. If you want to take things slow with her, you can drive up for a weekend visit. Or she could come down here for a weekend."

Cas squinted in that telltale way of his that meant he was trying to decode what Dean was actually saying. "Here?"

"'Course. She's welcome to visit you. If, you know, you wanted to stay." Dean swallowed. "But if you wanted to leave, go off with Ryn…I understand."

"Oh," Cas said softly, gaze dropping to the floor. His brow pinched as conflicted emotion played across his face.

Dean's heart constricted with sympathy. "It's okay," he said. "It's okay to want that, Cas."

Cas swallowed hard. "I'm an angel, Dean. I'm not supposed to want any of those things."

Dean gave him a wan smile, and reached out to clasp his shoulder. "I know you're an angel, but you're also more than that. You've spent time as a human, you've thrown out all the rules—for good and bad," he added with a humorous smirk.

Castiel's mouth turned down.

Dean shook his head. "But seriously, man. This…" He gestured vaguely toward the bunker and wherever Ryn was inside. "That's something even humans are lucky to find in their lifetimes."

Cas averted his gaze and lowered his tone. "I- I don't deserve—"

"Yes, you do," Dean said with a vehemence that seemed to startle the angel. He gave Cas's shoulder a tighter squeeze. "We've all made mistakes, Cas. And Ryn knows about them, but they don't matter to her. She loves you. Trust me when I say don't run away from that."

"So, you're telling me to go?" Cas asked hesitantly.

Dean's gut twisted. That wasn't what he was saying at all…but it struck him then how unsure Cas was. Dean had seen him like this a few times before, where he'd turned to Dean in times of doubt and asked for guidance. Cas had run off on his own so many times, Dean usually thought of the angel as his own stubborn entity. But every time Cas acted in defiance of something or someone, it was because he thought he was doing the right thing—to help others. He never once truly acted selfishly.

Dean sighed. "I'm not gonna give you an order here, Cas. You gotta do what's right for you. But know that me and Sam will always be there for you. And your room will be here, anytime you need—or want—it."

Cas's expression relaxed into one of relief. "Thank you, Dean. No matter…what we decide, know that I will always come when you and Sam call."

"You'd better come by even when we don't call," Dean said, reaching out to clap him on the shoulder.

The corner of Cas's mouth quirked upward. "Alright. I'd like that." He hesitated. "And…this will always be…home, for me."

Dean smiled. Home, family, those weren't bound by location anyway. Never had been. The important thing was Cas knew he always had them here, with the Winchesters. And he always would.

A/N: When I first wrote this, I'd decided to leave it up in the air for people to have their own head canon about what happens between Cas and Ryn, just because I wasn't sure whether people would want them to stay together or not. I'm now getting the sense that is what most of you want, hehe. And hey, maybe someday I'll continue this verse. Someone had mentioned Charlie showing up since she was still alive, and I'm suddenly finding the idea of her and Ryn hanging out rather amusing. ^_^

I'm really excited for my next story, "The Hellhound Games," which is going to feature some major whump all around. *g* See you Monday!