Author's Note: This wasn't supposed to happen, but it did. The chronology here is a little weird, because this second part is accidentally a continuation of the first chapter of "Breaking Point." So, if you haven't read that, read it first and then read this for it to make some kind of sense. Then read the second chapter of "Breaking Point." Or, you know, don't. Just...this is what happens when my fics get scrambled together. Whoops.

"Here you are again, Castiel. You know…last time was supposed to be just that. The last time."

Castiel blinks his eyes open to see that familiar blinding white, familiar because he remembers being here so many times before. He remembers the fear and the confusion, the helplessness and the anger of it. Castiel sits up slowly, feeling dazed. He also remembers very definitely dying, and there is a stab of disappointment. It had been a good death, and it had felt final. He'd been…relieved.

"Father," he says softly. "Why do you continue to punish me? I tried to do as you asked. I went back. I did everything I could. I kept him safe. I died keeping him safe."

"Castiel," says the voice of God, and it's so full of love that it aches deep within him, at the seat of his grace. "Is that what you thought I was asking of you? To live and die for Dean Winchester?"

"It was your last commandment," Castiel says, as if this should be obvious. It should be; God ought to know His own orders, oughtn't he?

"What was my last commandment?"

"You asked us to love them," Castiel whispers it like a prayer, still devout in this one thing, the final order that he actually understood and could perform without reservation. "You asked us to watch over them and to love them as you loved them."

"And you have always gone above and beyond in that respect, haven't you, in spite of all the obstacles thrown in your way. Even when it tore you apart, even when it would have been easier, by far, to simply fall in line with your brothers and sisters and watch the human race burn out of existence."

Castiel's head snaps up, and he strains to see into the impenetrable whiteness, wanting eyes to meet as he says what he feels.

"No, Father. Please don't make me out to be a martyr when I was selfish. I did what I felt was right, even when everyone around me said I was wrong. I took the easiest path, I followed my heart when I should have shouldered my responsibilities as a soldier in your army, because I didn't want to lose the things I loved."

"Is that how you see your life?" God sounds disappointed. "There is nothing I can do about it now, but sometimes I wish you had chosen to learn humanity from someone less self-effacing than Dean Winchester."

Castiel actually quirks a small smile at the mention of the name.

"No one else ever had the patience to teach me," he murmurs. He feels what it must sound like when a God sighs ripple the air around him.

"You have always done what I asked, Castiel. You didn't always do it in the way that I would have liked, but…you're a good son. The only son, other than Gabriel, who ever really did what I asked." Castiel hears the pain in the voice when it speaks of his elder brother, and feels it echo within him with a stab of longing to see the only brother who might have understood what has had Castiel twisting and turning and doubting and dying for the last five years.

And yet, unbidden, comes a quiet swell of pride, a comfort he hadn't expected to feel at his Father's words. He thought his faith was long dead and buried, but he finds it again, just enough to be grateful for all of these second chances, and to feel what any son would feel at hearing that he's made his father proud.

"Thank you," he says quietly. He's staring at the ground—white like everything else—now, focusing on his shoes and waiting. Castiel feels that this interview is coming to its end, and he is bracing himself for the oblivion he once begged for, a pit of dread in his stomach. What will it feel like, he wonders, to no longer exist? Perhaps he will simply fade away before he has time to notice that he's gone.

"And now that you have done what I ask, I have a question for you," comes God's voice again, shaking him out of his macabre wondering and confusing him even more. What could God Almighty need to ask a twice-fallen seraph?

"Yes, Father?"

"What do you want, Castiel?"

"What do I…what?" He doesn't understand. He's supposed to fade away. Any second now—

"Yes. Now that you have done all that I have asked of you, and all that Dean has asked…more than any human with a sense of proportion has a right to ask, really…what do you want to do?"

Castiel remembers, years ago—lifetimes, really—a similar question under very different circumstances. Once again, he can't stop a smile.

"I thought I'd just…sit here quietly until the end," he says.

"The end of what? Time?" God sounds mildly horrified. "Castiel…child, don't mistake me, I am proud of you…but I don't know that we would be very good roommates."

"No!" Castiel sounds almost as horrified to his own ears. "I mean…that's not what I meant. I thought…won't I…" He stops, frustrated, before finally letting the truth burst out of him.

"I thought this was it! I've had more chances than anyone deserves. I did what you wanted. I took care of Dean! I died to protect him. It was a good death, finally a good death. I thought you might let it be my last."

There is silence for a long moment, and Castiel takes a deep breath. He reminds himself that it's not a good idea to yell at God.

"I'm terrible at explaining things," God says finally, sounding oddly self-deprecating and wry, for an all-powerful creature that lives outside of Time. "I am not punishing you, Castiel. Not again. You have done nothing to deserve a punishment. Nor am I giving you a second chance, in the strictest sense. There is nothing to correct. What I'm offering is…a choice."

"Another choice?" Castiel echoes weakly. He wants to laugh, and to cry. Aren't choices what got him into all his messes in the first place?

"Yes," says God. "A simple choice: what is your reward? You can be finished now. You can have such peace as oblivion may give itself, if that is what you truly want. Or…you can go back, one more time. Not as an angel, but as a human being, to live out such days as you have and then to die. And after…to return to Heaven as a human soul, instead of a soldier."

"Go back…as a human? Live a human life?"

"Yes. A human life. Although given your taste in men, I doubt it will be a normal human life, exactly."

It hits Castiel then: Dean. God is giving him a chance to go back to Dean, not as a servant of Heaven but as a man, someone who can live his life with Dean. Castiel feels light-headed at the possibility.

"I…but in Heaven…won't I be alone? Won't I be hunted by my former brothers and sisters?"

"No, Castiel," God says, sounding only a little bit like he's explaining something simple to a child. "You will be protected from the wrath of your brothers and sisters. And you will not be alone. I think you know that already."

This last bit is delivered with a heavy significance that Castiel is almost afraid to acknowledge. He knows what his Father is implying, and it fills him with equal parts joy and dread. There is nothing else in this world that he wants…but it isn't solely up to him, and he knows that.

Of course, God can hear his thoughts.

"Trust me, Castiel. All will be as it should be. Even now, if you listen, you can hear him begging you—even begging me—to send you back."

Castiel does listen, and he does feel it, just barely: that faint pinprick of almost desperate irritation at the back of his neck that means Dean is calling. Once he notices it the desire to fly to wherever the man is almost overwhelms him.

God actually chuckles.

"It's your choice, Castiel."

And Castiel doesn't hesitate any further.

"Send me back."