He took a deep breath, straightening up, and looked down at his own hands. They were – these were not his hands. He could see himself, his body bloody and dead against the wall. He was inside Daniel.

Dean?

Cas!

Light flooded him, pushing out from behind his eyelids and from the center of his hands. He looked around and saw Mockers converging on Eric and Sarah, and anger surged up inside of him. He summoned his blade.

"Leave!" he commanded, his voice ringing with power. A vessel powerful enough to house Dean inside of it would be another iteration of the Michael Sword, and such a powerful and pure vessel gave him room to move, and stretch, his Grace flying uninhibited and spurred by the soul of his mate. The Mockers froze abruptly, their gleaming eyes fixed wide upon the image of the avenging Angel in their midst. "Leave this place. Fly far away from here."

He gestured to his corpse, the empty body with a gaping mouth and sightless eyes. "Your God is dead," he hissed. "And so is his Prophet. There is nothing for you here. Leave."

They scattered like frightened mice. Once Castiel found Sarah he wrapped a hand around her forearm and hauled her upright, taking her out of the house while the Mockers fled around them, hurling themselves into the air and disappearing into the storm. Without Aiden and without his power, Lawrence was quickly enveloped in the freezing rain and wind that had tormented them for so long. Nearby, the horses whinnied in fear as they were suddenly pelted with ice, the sun above them blocked out by the grip of the fearsome storm.

"This way," Castiel said, hauling her to follow. They gathered the horses and rode, fleeing the cursed city like bats out of Hell. As Castiel rode, he felt the pressure of his Grace building, and building, and eventually it came to the point where he had to rip off Daniel's jacket and clothes, giving a sigh of relief as new wings burst free, thick and black like they had been before. Dean's soul was wrapped tight around him, fueling his waning Grace, until he felt more whole and holy than he had in what seemed like a lifetime.

They rode for miles, and when the horses needed to rest Castiel dismounted and walked with them. When Sarah needed to sleep, he secured her hands to the saddle and continued to walk. Eventually, they cleared the storm, emerging a few miles East of Ottowa.

"Finally," Sarah said, as Castiel led the horses to an abandoned farmhouse and allowed them free rein to graze. His power still surged within him, and he felt tireless. He felt renewed. But Sarah looked like Hell; her face bore long red lines from claws, her clothes were ripped and there was a dark stain of blood on her side and a dark collection of bruises around her throat.

His hand tightened into a fist. He wanted to slay the Mockers that had touched her.

"So, I guess you can just go and possess any old body, huh?"

Castiel shook his head, following her inside. There was not a lot of space for resting, but one of the stalls was empty and was comfortable enough to sit in, if nothing else. Sarah braced herself against the wall with a sigh and a gentle hiss, waving off the Angel's attempts to tend to her. "No. It is because Dean is my mate. I would not have been able to do this had Daniel been a separate soul."

Sarah hummed. "So you're sayin' my best friend was just an echo of this Dean guy?"

"I'm…not sure," Castiel replied, looking away. He licked his lips and drew his wings in tight around himself. "But an Angel requires permission to take a vessel – Dean gave me permission, and Daniel did not. So I have to assume that Daniel was never a primary part of the equation."

"Well, that sucks balls," Sarah said. "What the fuck are we even meant to do now?"

Castiel sighed, and shook his head. "Aiden had a sigil carved into his ribs – it was a sigil that used to signify belied, but it had been altered. There was a spell around that sigil, where if a group believed hard enough, or if the faith was that strong, then those beliefs would become fast." He rubbed at his eyes. "The sigil was centered around my name, and another. Crowley's."

"That demon asshole?" Sarah asked, sounding a mix of surprised and disgusted. "So, what, you guys basically brainwash people into believing you're Gods?"

"I didn't do anything like that," Castiel hissed defensively, shooting her a glare although, in the darkness, he was not sure she could see him. "I raised Aiden myself, and I helped his parents and all the others of the original Mockers. Crowley must have turned them against me, and made it so that he could not die."

Abruptly, he stopped, eyes widening in realization. "He made it so that he could not die," he said again, softly. Of course. Of course. Because where would a demon go when they died?

Hell was shut. There was no answer.

"But you killed their Prophet," Sarah said. "And yourself, I guess, by extension. Does this mean you'll die eventually too?"

Castiel nodded, a smile breaking out across his face, unbidden. "Yes," he said, unable to conceal his happiness at the thought. "Yes. I will die. Just like a human. When this body dies – when Dean dies, so will I."

He tilted his head back, a laugh bubbling out of him, breaking the cool silence. He closed his eyes, his hands resting over his stomach, and he shook his head, and laughed. Inside of him, Dean's soul was practically dancing for joy, glowing behind his eyes, curling around the strong base of his wings.

We will go together.

Just like Thelma and Louise, right Cas?