The war was over, the battle won, and Castiel stood in Heaven surrounded by his peers. Every Angel alive was in attendance for this monumental event. Each of them pure grace shining with all of the glory of Heaven.

"Congratulations on your victory, Castiel. Heaven could not have made this step without you."

"Thank you, brother." Castiel looked into Abdiel's grace, and found what he already knew would be there. Abdiel did nothing to hide this fact from his brother.

"You know what this means, Castiel. You've known for a long time." Abdiel stepped forward, and reached out towards his brother, their grace mingled in a spark of even more incandescent light. "I have to take them, Castiel."

"I know, Abe." The nickname slipped off of his tongue, and he momentarily acknowledged that this was something Dean would approve of—giving a slightly ridiculous nickname to an enforcing Angel of the Lord. "I'm ready."

Abdiel spread his grace wide, the outline of bright amber wings barely visible, and there was an almost unanimous intake from the angelic crowd as Abdiel sent a rush of energy towards Castiel. There was a brief moment of pain, and then Heaven sang a unanimous note.

Castiel has fallen.

Dean sat in Bobby's living room drinking a lukewarm beer he'd been nursing for over an hour, and staring at the pile of books Bobby had on angelic lore. Bobby and Sam had made a food run. Dean'd requested something frivolous, something he knew Bobby wouldn't have, would need to go out to get, and then not so subtly suggested Sam go with him. It'd only been one week since Castiel killed Raphael in a little town in New Mexico.

There'd been a bright light that they'd come to associate with an Angel's grace, and then nothing left. Just one large charcoal set of wings surrounding Raphael's vessel. Cas had been nowhere to be found.

Dean had tried not to panic. Sam knew better.

Dean and the Angel had been dancing around emotions, and looks, and grazing touches for months; now the only hope they had that Castiel was alive was the absence of a matching set of scorch marks. Not too reassuring. He tried to give his brother space when he needed it, conversation when he asked for it, but he was waiting for the fall. There was a good chance Castiel wasn't coming back, that'd he'd been wiped out, and Sam was preparing for his brother's eventual breakdown. This was going to be worse than Lisa and Ben, this was going to be as close to losing Sam again as Dean had ever been, and Sam was nervous. His thoughts rambled from 'We'll get through this. We always get through this' to 'Cas was my best friend. Cas was family. Please don't let him be gone. We can't go through this again.'

Dean had prayed, silently when in company, but loud and long when he was alone. Castiel hadn't answered. Dean tried not to worry. There was a sick feeling in his gut, this kind of pulling ache that made him feel the need to walk hunched over in a vain attempt to subdue the pain each time the prayer failed.

So he sat. He sat, and he waited, and then there was the chaotic sound of chimes in Bobby's side-yard.

Dean grabbed his gun from the back of his jeans, and burst through the kitchen door, ready to take on whatever slimy beast that'd been stupid enough to bother them.

Only it wasn't a stupid beast. It was Cas.

He must've been trying to aim for the porch, and missed, hitting the wind chime Bobby'd kept because Karen had liked it.

"Cas?" his name came out in a much smaller voice than Dean intended. He cleared his throat, jogging over, and tried again. "Cas? Cas!"

Dean crouched down and heard Cas mumble something as Dean tried to turn him over onto his back. Cas hissed in pain. "It's okay, buddy. It's alright, I've got ya."

"Dean, so good to see you Dean, sorry I'm late." Cas gave Dean a would be winning smile except Dean's hand was splayed across Castiel's back, and he could feel something was off.

Dean's eyes darkened. "They didn't. Cas, they didn't. Those sons of bitches, how could they?" Castiel could see the guilt building in Dean's eyes; the realization of Castiel's newfound scars, and their meaning seemed to crush him. "I didn't mean for this to happen, Cas. Not this. I didn't wish this for you. I know how much you hated being without your grace. I didn't ask for this Cas, forgive me."

To Dean's surprise, Cas chuckled as he managed to sit up and lean into Dean. Dean could see now the ripped and torn back of Castiel's button down shirt, and the giant scars across his back with matching purpling bruises. Dean could feel his eyes begin the familiar stinging prickle.

He hadn't wanted Cas to suffer anymore for him. The angel, now a man, had been killed multiple times for Dean's mission, and the thought of him losing his home, his family, his identity as well, it just about killed Dean.

"It's okay, Dean. The battle is over, the war is won. I'm okay. I'm here, I'm alright." Castiel murmured over and over as he reached up touched Dean's face, stroking his cheek, and looking on him with newly human eyes.

Castiel made to sit up in Dean's arms, and Dean broke as he let tears fall "It's not okay, Cas! Look at what they did to you, you'll suffer, you'll die, you'll be vulnerable, you'll—"

"Dean, I knew what I was fighting for, and what would happen when either outcome came to pass. I was a soldier for you, not for God, not in the end. I knew this would happen, and I welcome it." He leaned in and placed a light kiss on Dean's lips. It was brief, and there was dirt on Castiel's face; Dean was tear streaked, and hadn't bathed in days, but it was good, and solid, and real—it was the promise of more.

Castiel made to get up, and pull Dean with him.

"Come inside Dean," he said with a small smile and a little tilt to his head, "I've waited a long time to come home."