A/N: Holy crap, it's over. This is the last chapter. It went way too fast I should have done once a week updates like normal. I'm so sad! Anyway there is drama galore in this one, as expected, so I hope you enjoy. Thanks to Covinskey, Adria66, Rainbow Fruit Loop, AliciaInTheTardis, Wisegirldemigodpercylover and cumberlovin for reviewing last chapter! I appreciate it so much, especially those of you who've stuck with this since the very beginning! Please review this chapter too and feel free to abuse me I probably deserve it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.

Chapter 25: And So It Ends

"We're relying on him?!" Charlie sputtered, looking aghast.

Crowley blinked. "Always nice to know I have the trust and devotion of the people I've agreed to save," he said dryly.

Charlie ignored him. "Dean, are you insane?! That guy's about as trustworthy as a sea-snail!"

"Why, I'm touched."

They were all crammed into Dean's room: Dean, Crowley, Castiel, Charlie, Garth, Chuck and even Andy. It was a tight squeeze.

Dean sighed. "I know he doesn't seem like the most honest guy, Charlie, but he's really our only hope here. And the Balts like him even less than you do; you got nothing to worry about."

Charlie's expression told him she begged to differ, but she kept her silence.

"This is the plan," Crowley said after a short pause. "I have this," he held up a worryingly average-sized amphora. "This is holy oil. Once alight, it will hopefully kill angels."

"Hopefully?" Andy repeated.

"We're pretty sure it will."

"And that's the best we have to go on?" Mr Fizzles said dubiously. "God, I'm glad I was able to sort out my Last Will and Testament last night." The sarcasm, even when delivered by a tatty sock, was very effective. Dean felt the morale sink even lower.

"Guys," he said, trying to sound encouraging, "come on. It's better than nothing, right?"

"I suppose," Charlie sighed. "We've put all our eggs into this basket; we may as well wait to see what hatches."

Dean sent her a relieved look.

Crowley continued. "I'll use this to set fire to the staff wing and then leg it with Ellen and all the other humans. When the orderlies get called to the emergency, you lot get out. There's a back door in the laundry room that I accidentally left unlocked this morning after my habitual stroll."

"You don't go on habitual strolls," Garth said slowly.

"Please, darling, do try and keep up," Crowley sneered. "After everyone's out that needs to be, you'll all have to help me set a ring of holy fire around the building with the other jar of oil so no Balts can get out."

"How will a fire circle stop them?" Chuck asked. "It won't be more than ten centimetres high."

Crowley snapped his fingers. "Exactly! But here's the catch: any angel who steps over holy fire will die. Or so I'm told."

"Can you drop the 'or so I'm told' thing, please?" Dean snapped. "It's really not helping."

Crowley look injured. "I thought you wanted me to be honest," he said, voice wounded.

Dean glowered at him.

"This isn't the time for fighting," Castiel said, alarming everyone in the room. "We need to work together now, you can have the fist-fight when we're out."

"I agree with Cassie," Andy said loudly. "Let's just all be friends and get the hell out of here. Dean, do we have any special part to play in this master plan?"

Dean nodded. "You lot need to make sure every single patient knows about the plan, every detail. And be positive, panic at this point would be as good as a death sentence."

"Every single patient?" Charlie asked. When Dean nodded, she winced. "Gordon's gonna be a tough cookie," she said warningly. "He loves the Balts almost as much as they do themselves now. How are we going to convince him not to rat us out?"

So far they had kept Gordon out of the loop, to avoid him telling the nearest orderly about their plans. Dean had to admit, it would be difficult to even try and make him listen beyond a few words.

"We could just not tell him," Andy suggested.

"And leave him to burn?" Dean snapped.

"Don't be an idiot, Dean-o, we can pretend it's just a normal fire and he'll follow us right out. Feigning panic and fear won't be that hard," he chirped.

"He'll smell a rat," Chuck said with certainty.

Andy shrugged. "Let him. I'll keep him occupied today, how's that? He can yap on about God and Jesus and whatever for as long as he likes and he won't have time to think too hard about what we're whispering behind his back."

"It's a good idea," Charlie said.

Dean had to agree, loath as he did so. "Alright, you do that then," he said to Andy. To Crowley, "What time will you set the fire?"

"After dinner sometime," Crowley said. "We're more likely to get away at night. Eight pm?"

"Fine. Alright, everyone, off you go. If possible, we need all the patients to be in on everything by lunch." As an afterthought, he added regretfully, "Try and convince Lisa to talk to Kevin. She knows him best and he's a bit...delicate."

"Lisa doesn't like anything about this idea," Charlie said frankly. "What do we do if she refuses?"

"Talk to him yourselves." Dean shrugged. "Nothing's getting in the way of this: not Lisa, not Gordon, not bloody Michael Balt himself. We're leaving. Tonight."

His words had their desired effect, and everyone's face seemed to brighten just a little. They filed out, Crowley answering Dean's stiff nod with a mock salute.

"See you before the pyre," he quipped.

Dean wished he had the doctor's enthusiasm. Dread had formed a cold lump deep in his belly and it was all he could do to stop his hands from trembling until the door clicked shut.

Castiel, who'd stayed behind as the rest left, took Dean's shaking hands in his own. "You need to be calm," he said, voice soft. "Calm and strong."

Dean shook his head. "I don't know if I can, Cas," he admitted, voice cracking. "I don't know if I can be strong. They're right, there're too many holes in this. We're not even sure if holy oil will work!"

"It will," Castiel assured him. "I know it will."

Dean knew there was no possible way Castiel could know such a thing, but he took comfort in his words anyway. The trembling died away to nothing, but the dread stayed.

"Cas?" he called after a long silence.

"Yes, Dean?"

"This is the end, isn't it? We're gonna die."

Castiel sighed. "If only it were that easy."

Dean embraced him then, twining his arms around the man as if he were a buoy in the middle of a never-ending ocean. Castiel returned the embrace, clutching at Dean and inhaling deeply, nose buried in his shoulder.

"This could go terribly wrong," he said, "but we will all do everything in our power to make sure it does not. Afterwards, it will just be us. Just you and me floating through the world together."

Dean barely choked back a sob. He kissed Castiel desperately then, knowing well that it could be the last time he ever did so. He loved him, Dean knew it. He loved him as a friend, a brother, a saviour. Such love easily blurred into this, this desire, but Dean knew well that right now they were both desperate, lonely creatures clinging onto the last shreds of sanity they had left. Whether he could ever truly love Castiel as he deserved, only time would tell.

But time was running out.

Supper was so tense it felt as if the very walls were holding their breath. There was very little conversation apart from Andy and Gordon, who were exchanging theories on the nature of humankind.

Dean was sitting at another table with Castiel, Charlie, Garth, Chuck...all the people he loved best in this godforsaken place. It was odd: before, in Balt's, he had been nothing but a newbie, a foreign and possibly interesting face in a sea of routine. Now he was little short of a local celebrity. Patients he had barely exchanged three words with were grinning at him from across the room, nodding when he caught their stares. Even Benny, who usually avoided too much contact with others, had given him a smile and a brief hug today, thanking him warmly. He'd thanked Castiel, too, but had considerately kept his distance.

Only Lisa was still unhappy. As Dean had expected, she had vehemently refused to tell Kevin the news, choosing instead to sit in her room for the entire afternoon. Dean wished he could say she was acting like a child and in the wrong, but he couldn't help feeling guilty for uprooting the life she had built. Almost everything had been taken from her: her group leader, her best friend...and now they were heading in a direction that likely meant her son would be taken too. When Dean saw her red, tear-stained eyes as she emerged for dinner, he sighed and got up.

"Be back in a bit," he said in answer to the curious glances he got from his friends.

Lisa didn't bother to look at him as he sat opposite her, in the chair that would have been Meg's.

"Please don't do this," she whispered. "Please...if I don't see Ben again, I'll die."

Dean reached out for her hand, but thought better of it. "You need to believe me," he said. "They're planning to kill us anyway, every single one. This is the best chance you'll get of seeing Ben again, and you might be able to stay with him too. If you're pronounced mentally healthy, which doesn't seem too far-fetched to me, you can get him out of care, buy a little place somewhere with the compensation...you can be happy."

Lisa looked up at him with mournful eyes. "You could be right," she whispered, "but what if you're wrong? What if this fire doesn't work? The Balts might not all get trapped." She didn't know about the holy oil, or that the Balts were angels; all she saw was a very sketchy plan.

Dean sighed and shrugged. "Then we'll pray for a quick death."

Lisa snorted weakly. "I don't know about you, Dean, but I'm not going to be doing any praying for a long time after this. God really doesn't seem to care, does he?"

He smiled wanly, and she smiled back.

"Sorry about how I treated you," she said. "You didn't deserve it, not really."

"But I was there," Dean finished her thoughts. "It's fine, I'll get over it."

His teasing put a little more light in her eyes. "And what about you and Castiel? Are the rumours true?"

His cheeks went pink. One glance at her face, and Dean knew she'd seen.

"Can't say I didn't see it coming a mile off," she said, her humour tired. "Somehow, even when you were with me, it would always come back around to him."

Dean averted his eyes. "Sorry," he apologised lamely.

She shrugged. "Don't be. But..." she trailed off, looking uncomfortable. "Never mind," she said quickly.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Go on, tell me. Although if it's more shit about Cas manipulating me, I don't wanna hear it."

Lisa shook her head. "No, I kind of regret saying that now. My mouth ran off without me. But no, what I was going to say was...does he love you, Dean?"

Dean stiffened and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Geez, I dunno," he muttered.

Lisa looked at him.

Dean gave up. "Okay, fine. Yeah. I think he does, yeah. Um." He stared hard at the table, feeling his cheeks turn bright red.

"And do you love him?"

Dean winced. "I don't know," he admitted. "He's...well, he's a guy, you know? Not really my usual type."

Lisa smirked and it was her old one, the one from before Meg's death. "We both know that 'type' stuff is a load of bullshit," she said. "I think you do."

"What?" Dean was momentarily lost.

"I think you love him," she told him. Her eyes were soft, but sad. "But I don't think you're going to realise it yourself until it's too late."

Her words were far too heavy for Dean to carry and he attempted to laugh them off, joking, "Hey, if we have it Cas' way, there won't be a 'too late'. Guy's planning on us sticking together like limpets."

"Are what are you planning on?"

He bit his lip. "I'm not planning on anything," he said nonchalantly.

Lisa frowned. Her eyes widened in horror. "You don't think they'll decide you're sane, do you?" Dean stood up suddenly, but she grabbed his wrist. "You think you'll get packed off to another hospital."

Dean met her eyes angrily. "Oh, come on, Lisa, even an idiot could see I'm not totally sound in the head!"

"Have you told Castiel?"

"The guy's deluded himself. I'm not going to destroy that for him."

"Do you even want to stay with him? In the real world?"

Dean stared at her in disbelief. "Of course I do," he said. "I'd stay with him forever if I could."

"You might be able to." Her eyes were sad. They didn't match her words.

"No." Dean smiled weakly at her and walked away, to where Castiel was waiting.

After they had all picked their meals to pieces, they made their way to the rec room. Andy was still occupied with Gordon and it was unnaturally quiet as Chuck shuffled the deck of cards.

"Do you guys want to play rummy?" Charlie asked Dean and Castiel.

Castiel shook his head and Dean said, "It's alright, thanks. I need to rest a bit."

"See you," she said, face grave.

Garth waved goodbye as they left.

It was quarter to eight when a loud knock echoed through Dean's room. He sprang from the bed just as the door swung open, ready to fight any orderlies that poured through it.

It was Crowley.

"Nice job on keeping the atmosphere natural, by the way, very believable," the doctor greeted him. "If you haven't been stopped yet, it's because the Balts want to play." He held up two clay amphorae. "I'm off to go do my bit. Don't lose your head, will you?"

Dean shook his head. "Just get out of there before the Balts can stop you," he said.

"Right-o." Crowley hesitated a moment. "George..." he began.

"My name's Dean."

"Dean, then. Just...don't do anything stupid, okay? And good luck." Crowley shot him a brief, awkward smile and strode away.

"Good luck to you too," Dean murmured to the emptiness.

Ten minutes later the alarms sounded. It was deafening, almost as high-pitched as the sound of Naomi's true voice had been, and Dean had to concentrate hard on not covering his ears as he ran to the rec room.

All the patients were there already, and the orderlies had run off to the site of the emergency. Dean marched up to the group.

"Everyone here?" he asked. They nodded. "Right. Let's go."

As they started towards the laundry room, Dean heard Gordon ask, "Go where?"

"We need to get out of the building before we all get burned up," Andy told him.

"The orderlies will put it out. We're not supposed to go outside unsupervised, we should wait for the orderlies to return!"

"He's going to start fighting soon," Castiel whispered in Dean's ear.

Dean had been thinking the same thing. "We need to trust Andy to keep him calm until we're out," he hissed back. "If he starts kicking up a fuss, we might have to leave him."

Castiel nodded solemnly, and Dean blinked at him in surprise.

They could smell the smoke as they got closer to the laundry room, running in the direction of the staff wing. It was pungent, acrid, and a cacophony of coughs and chokes went up among the patients.

"I'm asthmatic!" someone cried.

"Just keep pressing on!" Dean yelled back.

Keep going. One foot in front of the other.

Thudthudthudthudthudthudthud

Gordon was shouting now, demanding that they all turn around and head back to the rec room. Andy tried to soothe him, but when Gordon aimed an alarmingly forceful punch at his head, Benny stepped in.

"Hey, asshole," he growled, crushing Gordon's fist in his own. "Shut up and keep walking, or I'll drag you there myself."

Gordon hit him and Benny slammed an elbow into his face, knocking him out cold.

"I can take him from here," he cheerfully told the onlookers. "He's lost a bit of weight in muscle these last few months."

Still, it was a struggle, even for Benny, with limited oxygen and a weight nearly equal to his own draped over his back. Andy grabbed Gordon's arm but his contribution didn't make much difference.

They poured into the laundry room, the thick smoke chasing all thought of order out of the patients' minds and turning them into a thoughtless rabble. Dean had to fight his way to the door.

"Oi, stand back!" he yelled, and he tugged on the handle, praying to all deities that Crowley had kept his word and not betrayed them. The handle turned and the door swung inwards. Fresh, cold air rushed in to meet them.

Dean was nearly trampled as the group raced to freedom, whooping and coughing as they went. Castiel caught him before he went down, and they were swept outside by the mob. Making their way around the hospital, Dean could see an orange glow emanating from the other side of the building, which became ever brighter the closer they came to the front. Then he could see the sparks flying metres into the sky and then finally, as they rounded the corner, he saw flame.

The holy fire looked the same as any other blaze, leaping wildly into the sky in bright orange tongues, spitting heat and sparks as they went. Half the building was ablaze after not yet ten minutes had passed, but Dean didn't give himself time to worry about Crowley's alarming talent for arson. Looking to the gates, he saw vague shadowy figures waiting for them, almost completely invisible outside the brilliance of the fire. Dean shouted hoarsely, and those who heard him made their way through the soggy, muddy garden, closely followed by those who hadn't.

As they neared the figures, Dean could make out Crowley's suited silhouette, as well as Ellen's next to him and the hunched figure of a young woman a little off to the right.

"Where're the rest of them?" he asked breathlessly as they reached the doctor.

Crowley shrugged. "They seem to believe I'm some kind of criminal trying to murder our bosses. Only Ellen would actually believe me, and Delta over there just doesn't seem to care."

"Where's the other jar?" he asked urgently, turning back to Crowley.

Crowley held it up. "It's empty, though. I already laid the oil, the only thing left now is to light it. Do you happen to have a match?"

Dean gaped at him, aghast. "You planned all this, but you didn't think to bring a fucking lighter?!"

"Calm down, George, I was only joking." Crowley held up his cigarette lighter. "I never go anywhere without this anyway."

"This is not the time for kidding around!"

"I hear you, I hear you. You have to admit, though, fire does get rather exciting."

Crowley's grin was rather too wide for Dean's taste. "Just light the fucking oil," he said. "Quick, before they –"

He was cut off by loud, blood-curdling screams.

Wheeling around, Dean felt the blood freeze in his veins. Raphael was towering over the patients, face livid and veins swelling. He flexed his shoulders and Dean's mouth fell open as two enormous shadows sprouted before him, giving Raphael's shadow two gigantic wings that spread to twice his already considerable height. The screams choked out to silence, and the patients of Balt's Psychiatric Hospital looked on in horror as Raphael turned to face Dean, as slowly and deliberately as if he were a cursed gargoyle.

"Human scum!" he roared, deafening them all and sending a few scuttling back in fright. He marched on Dean. "This is all your doing! Five of my brothers and sisters are dead and yet you stand here, plotting to entrap us all! Your sins have risen far above your head, Dean Winchester, and now you shall drown on them!"

Before Dean had time to blink, the metres separating them were gone and Raphael was nose-to-nose with him. His eyes bored into Dean's and Dean thought he could see a flash of cold blue fire deep within his pupils. Then Raphael's fist clenched around his throat and he was lifted effortlessly into the air, clawing and gasping for air.

Through the ringing in his ears, Dean thought he heard Charlie shriek, but he paid it no mind. His eyes were fixed on Raphael's, unable to break away.

The archangel's next words echoed through Dean's mind as much as through the smoke-thick air.

"I shall smite you for this."

He brought his hand towards Dean's forehead and Dean closed his eyes and prepared himself for the end. At Raphael's enraged scream, though, he cracked them open again and saw through the haze of fading consciousness a hand encircling Raphael's wrist, forbidding it from moving any farther.

Dean eyes caught a flash of fiery blue. It was Castiel.

"Let him go, Brother," Castiel hissed, crushing Raphael's wrist with an inhuman bout of strength. Even as Dean looked on, Castiel's eyes flashed with white light.

Astonished, Raphael dropped him and Dean tumbled to the sodden ground, choking and rolling as far as he could from Raphael. As soon as the mists over his eyes had cleared, he sat up, reeling from dizziness, and looked on in horror as Castiel, human and puny in comparison, challenged an enraged archangel to a fight.

The two circled each other in the centre of the circle formed by petrified spectators. Raphael lashed out quick as lightning for Castiel's throat, but the man was fast. He ducked, twisted and dodged until he was behind Raphael, slamming a fist into the back of his head.

The cheers that went up died almost as quickly as it became apparent that Raphael had barely felt the blow. Castiel scarcely had time to turn white before he was slammed into the dirt.

Raphael kicked him in the stomach and Castiel retched and choked, mud smearing all over his face and scrubs. Raphael grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled his face upwards.

"This is not so easily forgiven, Brother," he spat in his ear. "How they will wish they had listened to me now, those foolish, merciful elder brothers of mine. How will they react, I wonder, when I present your head to them on a plate?!"

Dean saw the flash of silver falling from Raphael's sleeve, heard his own scream ring in his ears as Raphael raised the knife to plunge through Castiel's heart.

A deafening bang sounded next to Dean's ear and Raphael's head jerked back, blood and bone and brain spraying in all directions. In disbelief, Dean turned his head to see Crowley standing steady and ashen-faced, clutching a smoking gun with two hands.

Even a bullet could not stop an archangel, however, and it took Dean not even a spilt second to know what he had to do. Scrambling upright, he sprinted to where Raphael stood, momentarily distracted as he watched his own blood pool around his shined shoes. He whirled when he heard Dean's heavy footfalls but he was already upon him, knocking him to the ground and striking the blade from his grasp. The now empty hand came up and fixed itself once more around Dean's throat, squeezing so tightly Dean thought his eyes would surely pop out of their sockets, but then Castiel had grabbed the knife and driven it with all the force he could muster into Raphael's chest.

There was an ear-piercing, horrifying whine and Raphael's eyes and mouth poured light and fire and grace. Then, the noise and light were gone and it was over. Raphael's empty shell slumped underneath Dean, hand going slack and slipping to land with a thud on the ground.

There was a long, long silence.

"What are you idiots all waiting for?!" Crowley screamed. "Start running!"

They ran. Castiel pulled a scrambling Dean upright and grasped his hand tightly as they sprinted along the road to the faint lights of the nearest town.

There was a beating of wings overhead and a brief, swirling gale, and then Naomi was before them, sooty and singed and dishevelled. Those leading the group skidded to a stop and the ones behind them careered into them in a manner that would have been comical had all hope not just been ripped from their bodies.

Dean heard heart-rending sobs behind him and realised with a twist of his stomach that it was Lisa.

Naomi opened her mouth. "Be calm," she said. "I have no interest in stopping you. This game has gone on long enough; Michael is bored and Raphael is gone. You humans, though you have murdered my brothers and sisters, are free to go. We will not hunt you and we will not harm you. I will not apologise for the work we have done under our Father's name, but I can tell you this: you will all be repaid thrice-over for your earthly suffering. All sins have been burned away."

No one spoke, not daring to believe it.

Naomi's lips quirked up slightly at the corners, a human gesture of wry amusement. "Run now," she said. "Run to the town, and find help. But leave me Castiel. I have work to complete."

Dean felt his heart stop in his chest.

There was a muttering, and shuffling, and then a few patients broke away from the group, swerving around Naomi and bolting for the lights. She didn't raise a finger to stop them, and they were soon followed by others, more and more, until the only ones who were left were Castiel, Dean, Charlie, Garth, Chuck and Crowley.

Naomi regarded them curiously. "Why do you not run?" she asked.

"We ain't leaving Cas," Dean told her harshly. "Never." He clutched Castiel's hand desperately in his own.

"Then bear witness," Naomi said. She took a step towards them.

They skittered back, all except Dean and Castiel, who stood their ground determinedly. Dean stepped in front of his friend, ignoring Castiel's urgent protests.

"You're not gonna hurt him ever again," Dean warned Naomi, voice rasping and angry.

"I have no wish to do so," Naomi said. "I merely wish to give my brother his full power once again, as Michael wished when his sentence was served." She vanished then, and Dean barely had time to turn around before she was touching two fingers to Castiel's forehead.

Castiel's eyes exploded with light and the onlookers screamed in horror. It faded, and Dean almost collapsed with relief when he saw Castiel still standing and his wide eyes still in his skull.

Dean's eyes caught a movement on the ground and he gasped as he saw Castiel's shadow, dancing in the light of the burning building, spreading its wings to touch the edges of the night.

"And so it is done," Naomi said quietly. She was gone.

They stood there, all of them, white-faced and wide-eyed, motionless as the fire raged behind them. Castiel's face was blank, almost empty. Dean took a shaky step towards him.

"Cas?" he called croakily. "Cas, you still with me?"

Castiel blinked and slowly turned to look at him. "I have always been here, long before the creation of the Earth. I will remain until long after it is gone." He blinked again, and Dean saw his Castiel suddenly return to this otherworldly creature before him. "It is strange, to suddenly remember so much when before you remembered nothing at all."

Dean choked out a laugh and hugged him, feeling the others' arms wrapping around them both a moment later.

For a moment – one moment, after a year of agony and insanity – Dean felt happy.

Dean sat, alone, in a small white room, staring blankly at the opposite wall.

I knew it, he told himself. I fucking knew it all along.

The words the psychiatrist had said to him still rang in his brain.

"Sorry, Mr Winchester, but you've been reallocated. You'll be transported to the hospital in Virginia tomorrow."

He was going to another asylum, just like he'd expected.

Castiel had been positive, before Dean had walked through those doors.

"It will be fine," he'd said excitedly. "You'll see."

Dean swallowed a sob and put his face in his hands.

A flutter of wings behind him.

"Dean?"

He turned. Castiel was there, blue eyes wide and upset. He couldn't hold their gaze.

"Sorry," he mumbled. Tears stung at the backs of his eyes.

Castiel crumpled to kneel before him, taking Dean's face in his hands and kissing him long and hard, pulling at Dean's hair until it hurt. When they separated, Dean was shocked to see the first tears in the angel's eyes since he had regained his grace.

"I love you," Castiel told him fervently, and Dean's heart crumbled inside him. "I love you more than this world, my world, my siblings, my Father. That will not change. And for however long, wherever you are, know that I will be watching over you."

Dean nodded, and the movement sent the tears cascading down his cheeks.

Dean walked up the driveway beside the guard and was struck by a strong wave of déjà vu. There was only one figure waiting for him at the door to the hospital this time, however: a man on the wrong side of middle-aged. He had a smile almost as wide as his face.

"Dean Winchester?" he asked as they neared, grin never wavering.

The guard muttered a farewell and un-cuffed Dean, giving him a sympathetic clap on the shoulder. He was a nice guy, Dean thought vaguely, as far as he could tell from their few hours' conversation.

"Nice to have you here," the man in then white coat greeted. "I'm Doctor Vesania, but that's a terrible mouthful. You can call me Azazel. We've been waiting for you for a very long time."

Dean nodded listlessly and stepped through the door the grinning man was holding open for him. As he passed, he could have sworn that, just for a second, Azazel's eyes flashed an opaque, pus-like yellow.

The door swung shut behind him.

A/N: 'TIS DONE! I can't believe this took me a year to write...and then ended so quickly. I am considering whether a sequel might follow. I dunno, I've never written one before and I don't want to ruin it. We shall see if inspiration takes me. Don't get too hopeful though.

When this fic first got posted, it got like zero attention (shoutout to FF for deleting all my categories) so I'm amazed it ever got this many reviews! We're on eighty-three! Woahhh, I was convinced I was going to get about thirty. So again: thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed and read this and stuck with Dean and Cas until now. I hope to see you next time!

~tii-chan17