Disclaimer: Still do not own Supernatural.

Note: This is a sequel to my fic, My Immortal, but I think it can be read as a stand alone.

Never Alone

As he had turned to face Castiel, Dean had been hit with a sudden bout of dèja vu.

A barn covered in every sort of sigil to keep out demons, sparks flying through the air, the shadows of wings reaching up over a non-descript man in a trenchcoat.

He couldn't help sneering as he compared the righteous, powerful, steadfast angel he had met that day to the one that stood before him now.

Cas was nothing compared to what he had been. Since gaining free will, all he had done was mess things up over and over. He always left. Now look at his pitiful state. He was barely an angel and a dying one at that.

Still, Dean could feel the Blade calling to be drenched in his blood, the desire singing in his blood to kill the one who had helped him as much as hurt him.

He didn't pay much attention to the empty words exchanged. After all, he knew what he was saying was true. If anything, it just pissed him off more seeing the angel calmly reply, not even affected by the painful truths rolling off his tongue.

Suddenly, Cas was all up in his personal space. The bastard had never seemed to figure out that no one should stand that close to people. Even though he only seemed to have that problem with Dean.

"I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition." Cas narrowed his eyes, which were ice cold yet burned with an inner fire. His voice was steady and filled with a steely resolve. It was like Dean was talking to the dickish soldier of God all over again. "We have been through much together, and even though you still think you don't deserve it, I have saved you many times."

Castiel brought his right hand up to Dean's left shoulder, where Dean once remembered a handprint being seared into his skin. It had been the only mark on him from his revival.

"What makes you think that I will not again?" This final question had a hint of exasperation. That old silly-human-why-are-you-acting-so-stupid tone that Cas sometimes had when Dean did something reckless and stupid.

None of this mattered, because Dean had decided he would die. He buried the First Blade up to the hilt in Cas's chest, finding it ironic. After all, when they first met, Dean had greeted him with a knife in the chest. Now, Cas would actually die from Dean stabbing him.

For a moment, he felt the rush of euphoria that came whenever he killed and maimed with the Blade. It was the ultimate pleasure. This time it did not last long as it was replaced with something else.

Dean was burning.

The sensation started in his left shoulder and spread through his entire body. It was like it reached down into his very soul. Then he realized, that it was going to his very soul. That was probably the point.

The pain was familiar. He realized that he had felt it before, but the memories of his last moment in Hell had always been fuzzy. He had never really remembered his rescue from Hell. Though sometimes, in his dreams, he would think that he saw a pair of blue eyes amid the flames and darkness of Hell.

Dean didn't know how long the burning went on. Suddenly, the pain intensified in his right arm, right where the Mark of Cain was.

And then it all stopped.

For a second, all Dean could feel sheer relief. It was similar to when he first crawled out of his grave. Only then he acknowledged the burning pain had remained on his left shoulder. His eyes glanced at it just in time to see a hand slipping from there, leaving a familiar burn mark in the shape of said hand. Just like it did all those years ago.

The full importance of what he'd done hit him as he saw Cas slip off of the First Blade onto the floor.

Dean had stabbed Cas. He'd stabbed him in cold blood, relishing the feeling. Cas, his best friend, his angel, the one who always forgave him.

Dean threw the Blade away from him as if it had been the thing burning him. He dropped to his knees, one hand going to the wound and pressing down, trying to stop the bleeding, while the other hand hooked itself around Cas's shoulders, holding him to his chest.

"Cas! Cas, you son of a bitch, hold on!" Dean didn't like the look in Cas's eyes. They were dim, which they had no right to ever be. It reminded him of the strung out hippie he had met in that Apocalyptic future. In this year, 2014… A part of him whispered silently. You can't save him. You'll always end up here. It sounded like Lucifer.

"Dammit, Cas! We can fix this!" He pressed harder even as blood started pouring from Cas's mouth. He didn't even know if Cas could hear him.

Yet Cas must have been a little aware, because somehow he found himself staring into his eyes like they had so many times before. They may have been dimmer than usual, but that spark that was purely Cas, that had nothing to do with Jimmy, was still there. And he –

The bastard was smiling.

How could Cas smile at a time like this? Dean felt like his heart almost stopped. It was that small smile that he had first seen as they sat opposite each other on two park benches. The one that spoke of an innocence, of something good, that Dean had never encountered before, that had persisted even through all of the pain, lies, betrayal, and death. It was something that Dean had actually kind of admired about Cas.

He could never admit that though.

"Don't you dare smile at me like that!" Dean growled. "Not like things are fine, are better this way. You don't get to leave like this, you bastard!" He hated how his voice broke.

But Cas still smiled at him, love and adoration and forgiveness in his gaze as always. Damn angel was always too forgiving. Even though he was the one who had seen everything.

Dean felt a gentle hand wipe away something wet from his face. To his surprise, he was crying. Dean Winchester did not cry. And Cas didn't even seem aware that he had managed to lift his hand to cup Dean's cheek. Maybe it was a subconscious gesture to try to take away Dean's pain like always.

And then the hand dropped, the spark faded.

Castiel, Cas, the fallen angel, the rebel, Dean's best friend, was dead.

For a second, Dean couldn't believe it.

Not again. Cas had promised when that bitch April had killed him. He wouldn't just let himself die so easily.

Yet, it seems that Cas had.

It was like Purgatory and the angel tablet all over again. Hadn't Dean made it clear that he needed the stupid trenchcoat angel? Hadn't he made it clear that Cas could not die on him? Did he think it was okay to sacrifice himself for Dean of all people?

Always happy to bleed for the Winchesters. Cas had said that once. It seemed all too true for the amount of times he had died, been tortured, and hurt for their sake. For his sake.

And now here he lay, bleeding and broken again. Dead.

Fuck. Cas was dead.

"Cas, you stupid son of a bitch! Wake up!" Dean found himself shaking the angel.

There was no breath or pulse. The bright blue eyes that had sparkled and shown all of the emotions that Cas tried to hide were empty and glazed. Still, he had to believe. After all, there were no wing prints burned onto him and the floor. If Cas was dead, they would have appeared.

Something told Dean that that small hope didn't matter.

"C'mon, Cas! Don't be a dick!" Dean buried his face at the base of Cas's neck, his next words coming out in a soft, broken whisper. "Don't be dead."

Cas was dead.

Dean didn't know how long he sat on the floor of that barn clutching the corpse to his chest, trying to stop the tears that were dripping down his face. All of the words he had harshly thrown at the angel not too long ago came back to him and he wanted to curl up in a ball from the amount of guilt he was feeling. He never wanted Cas to die. He hadn't even wanted him to die back during his stint as God, so how could he say such a thing?

It was the groan that eventually snapped him out of it. For a moment, he thought it came from Cas, but he realized that it was actually coming from the open barn doors.

"Dammit! Whatever happened to the – " He heard Sam's voice stop in shock. Sam's footsteps came closer, wary and hopeful. "Dean?"

Dean looked up at his brother. He didn't even bother to suck in his tears or put on a brave, stoic façade. The fire that Cas had filled him with had burned all of that away for the moment. The handprint on his shoulder throbbed, reminding him of his loss.

"He's dead, Sam."

Shock crossed Sam's face, quickly followed by grief and what appeared to be pity.

Dean ignored him and looked back down at Cas. He brought up his hand and gently closed his eyes.

"And it's all my fault."

Dean didn't want to do anything with the body at first.

"He needs it." He told Sam as he poured himself a drink, glad that they had made it back to the bunker where his supply of alcohol was. He ignored the bitch face being sent his way as well as the blade on the table in front of his brother.

Just looking at it disgusted him. How could he have thought that he could control it? Why had he let Crowley convince him that using it was a good idea?

He now felt an understanding to what Cas must have felt like back when he was trying to open Purgatory. Crowley was one hell of a salesman.

"He's dead, Dean." Sam said sternly. They'd been going back and forth for hours.

"Yeah, for now." Dean took a deep gulp, trying to drown the guilt once more. "He'll need it when he comes back."

Now Sam was just looking at him like he was the most pitiful person in the world. "Dean…"

"Don't look at me like that!" Dean put his glass back down on the table, hard.

"I don't think – "

"He's going to come back!" He had to come back. After all, Dean needed him. "He always comes back!"

"Dean…" Gentle, understanding Sam was here. "You haven't even been able to say his name since it happened. That's not healthy."

Dean gave him the stink eye. "Really?" He pushed his drink away. "Like you can talk? I heard about the crap you pulled trying to find me. Want to talk about it? I'm sure it'll be healthy." He ignored the way the blood had drained from his brother's face and left the room.

He walked down the hall to Cas's room where they had left his body for now. He stopped at the doorway and just stared at him.

Dean had always seemed to have a sense for when Cas was around. He could tell without even looking that Cas was in the room or had decided to pop up next to him, crowding his personal space.

Now all he felt was a void. There was nothing for him to feel. It was similar to when the Leviathans had killed Cas and he felt like a chunk of himself had been ripped out and just continued to bleed. Still, he tried to cling to what he knew. Cas had always come back.

However, he knew that Cas wouldn't want to come back to a decomposed vessel. And the Big Man Who Probably Wasn't Upstairs had always reconstructed him from less than ashes.

Dean relented. He looked at Cas's body, and it was his body as Cas had once explained that Jimmy hadn't been around since Stull Cemetery.

"Dammit, Cas." He could feel the tears prickling his eyes again. He ran his hand over his face to get rid of them. "You still suck at goodbyes, you know? Didn't even say it properly." Dean turned and walked away.

He and Sam gave Cas a hunter's funeral. It seemed appropriate.

This time Dean didn't bother trying to keep Cas's new trenchcoat. It just didn't have the same memories the other one had.

Dean decided that God hated him. He had always thought the deadbeat might ever since he had to watch his mother and his home go up in flames, but there were three events that cemented this in his mind.

The first one was more of a realization than anything else. During his stint as a demon, he had sought out Cain and killed him like he promised. It was as he had been staring where the Mark had once been that the thought occurred to him.

Cain had turned into a demon. He had killed and tortured for centuries until he met and fell in love with a girl named Colette.

She knew everything that Cain had done. She loved him and stayed with him despite all of that. It was because of a simple promise to her that Cain had stopped killing. Cain had mentioned that he thought she still watched over him.

Cas was his Colette.

All of the stares and getting into his personal space, always giving anything and everything for Dean, it had been Cas's way of showing his love. And Cas had known everything, hell, he had once held Dean's very soul in his hands. Through everything, he had still believed that Dean deserved to be saved. That he deserved to live and be happy.

"And what about you? Didn't you deserve to be happy?" Dean didn't know why he kept asking these questions. He knew that since Cas had opened Purgatory the moron had felt like he didn't deserve anything but punishment. Still, Cas wasn't back yet, so Dean had no choice but to ask these questions to the empty air.

He didn't try to figure out if he loved Cas the same way that Cas loved him. He'd wait until he saw Cas again.

The second event was such a big coincidence that Dean was instantly suspicious of it.

He and Sam had been on a case, and since it was going longer than they had thought, Dean had to stop and do some of their laundry.

It was as he walked passed the Laundromat's Lost and Found that he saw it.

It was that goddamn trenchcoat. The one that Jimmy Novak had just happened to put on the day Castiel possessed him. The one that had almost seemed like it was a part of Cas, that had been through every trial the angel had been through before the second time he fell. The one that Dean had sometimes used as a pillow when he had thought that Cas was gone for good.

He tried to ignore the shaking of his hands as he picked it up, and he saw that all of Cas's old clothes were just sitting there, unclaimed, like they were waiting for the angel to come back and get them. Even the tie that Cas had never been able to tie properly was there. The clothes were a bit blood-spattered, but that didn't matter.

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat and just put them in with the other clothes he was washing. Then he transferred it to a bag with that trenchcoat on top and put it in the trunk of the Impala.

Cas would be glad to see them when he came back. After all, for some reason he really liked trenchcoats.

Sam, after asking where he had found the clothes, didn't try to ask why he was keeping them.

The third event was probably the most painful and was the final blow. After all, if it had happened before, then Cas might not have died again.

Hannah, one of the angels Cas had been working with, showed up in their motel room while they were on a different case. When Dean heard the flap of wings, he had hoped that he would turn around and find Cas in his space again.

He was severely disappointed.

"Winchesters." She nodded her head slightly.

"Uh, hi. Hannah, right?" Sam replied, glancing at Dean who had made no move to respond.

"Yes." She paused. "I feel I owe you an apology. It turns out you are not the cold-blooded killers I thought you were."

"Thanks." Dean said sarcastically as he turned his back on her and went to get a beer.

"We heard about Castiel. I suppose I owe him an apology as well…" She trailed off and looked around the room, as if unsure what to say next.

"I'm sure he would forgive you." Sam said gently. He obviously had no issues talking with her, but then again, she hadn't demanded that he be killed.

"That is partly why I am here." Hannah's gaze fell on Dean. "You are the ones he trusted most. I felt that he would want you to have this."

"Have what?" Dean asked, slightly curious despite himself.

"We have been questioning Metatron and all of his plots have been revealed. We found out that he still had this and had hidden it away. He didn't use all of it." She reached down and pulled something out that hung from around her neck.

Hannah pulled it out and revealed a glass vial attached to a woven cord necklace. She held the necklace and vial out to Dean. Inside of the vial was a shimmering light, and Dean's insides seemed to squeeze as he recognized this set-up.

"I believe that you should have Castiel's grace." She said softly.

Dean took the vial as if it was the most precious thing in the world. His breath caught. It felt like Cas. This little spark had that warm, steadfast presence that Cas had had when he wasn't being a total badass angel. It was the warmth when Cas questioned pop culture references or tried to understand human behaviors.

"I'm sorry for your loss." Hannah said before disappearing again with a rustle of her wings.

Dean didn't even look up from where he was gazing at the grace.

It took a while but Sam finally spoke up. "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?" Dean could hear the pity in his voice.

"Yeah." Dean replied as he gently brought the necklace over his head and tucked the vial under his shirt.

The grace was nothing without Cas. Sure, it was the essence that had made him an angel, that had made him what he was, but it was not what made Cas who he was. That part of Cas, his personality, his intelligence, his character, was gone for now.

It was at that point that Dean decided. He was tired of waiting for Cas to come back.

"Did you really think I could do anything?" Death asked, raising an imperious eyebrow from where he was sipping his maple bacon milkshake. "I am Death, you know. I do not do the whole bringing back to life thing."

Dean shuffled his feet a bit. He never really knew how to talk to the Horseman, and he knew it was risky even summoning the guy. That's why he hadn't told Sam what he was doing, and he made sure that he did it in a secluded spot.

"You've helped us before." Dean tried to justify.

"Yes, but the world has been at stake those times and it was in my own self-interest." Death took a moment to eat one of the Wisconsin deep-fried cheese nuggets. "This is you simply wanting one person back. You've seen how messed up the universe gets from bringing people back to life. You should know better."

"Well…" It was really hard trying to argue with Death.

"However, I do know someone who may help you." Death returned to his milkshake.

Dean perked up a bit. Death tossed something towards him, and Dean deftly caught it. Holding it up, Dean couldn't help but stare at the item in shock.

"The angel actually asked me to give that to you after he was killed by Leviathan, but this is the first real opportunity I've had to do so." Death finished his meal and stood up, adjusting his coat. "I may not be able to do anything, but God has always seemed to have a soft spot for him. You'd do better to ask him."

And with those words, Dean was left by himself, holding an amulet that Sam had given him and that Cas had told him could find God.

Dean couldn't help but look at it and say, "I can't believe he kept it."

For some reason, Dean knew that it was a dream the moment he opened his eyes. He was in a bar, and it looked a lot like the one he and Cas went to when they were looking for a cupid's bow.

Something hanging around his chest was growing warm.

"So I hear you've been looking for me?" A voice that Dean had thought he'd never hear again came from behind him. Dean whirled around to face the voice.

At the bar sat Chuck Shurley, prophet and author of the Supernatural series. Dean could only stare at him.

"Cas said you must be dead, since Kevin was a prophet." He said.

"Well, if I was an actual prophet, that might be true." Chuck took a sip of beer, and it didn't look like it was his first if the empty bottles were any indication. "But prophet is the perfect cover for knowing everything. Gabriel's not the only person who rocks at forming Witness Protection. You probably don't even know where he is now."

"You're God." Dean realized. "You?"

Chuck snickered a bit. "I always tend to hang out with the losers of society, Dean. It shouldn't be so surprised." He gestured to the stool next to him. "Take a seat."

Dean sat. "Bring him back."

Chuck looked at him. "Why should I?"

"You've done it before." Dean narrowed his eyes. "Unless he was right, and it was all a bunch of punishment resurrections."

Chuck sighed and sipped his beer. "It wasn't punishment." His face saddened. "Castiel. A shield of God to protect humanity." He took a larger sip of beer. "He was the last angel I made, you know? Decided to try something different with him." He chuckled a bit. "I remember when he was a fledging. Always asking questions. Of course, it's because he asks questions and thinks for himself that he's suffered so much." A contemplative look crossed his face. "Maybe I put too much of a burden on him."

"You think?" Dean asked him, incredulous. "So why shouldn't you bring him back?"

"Don't you think he deserves some peace?" Chuck narrows his eyes at Dean, and suddenly Dean is reminded that he is talking to Cas's Father. He never really had to do the whole "meet the parents" thing before. "And anyway, you treat him like crap. Why should I give him back to you?"

Dean's mouth dried. He couldn't deal with this question now, but it seems he had to.

He looked Chuck, no, God straight in the eye. "Because he's Cas, and I need him."

Chuck studied him. He pursed his lips and seemed to come to a decision. "Maybe this time you two will finally figure things out. After all, I have a bet with Death to win."

"What?" Dean asked, confused.

Chuck brought two fingers up to Dean's forehead. "This time, don't just tell him. Make him understand exactly what you mean."

With a press of those fingers, the bar melted away.

Dean woke up in his room in the bunker. It was probably one of the strangest dreams he had ever had. Chuck was God? Seriously? Just plain weird.

The warmth coming from his amulet seemed to say that the dream was true. He reached up to touch it…

And noticed that Cas's grace was missing from around his neck.

Panic flooded him, and he sat up, looking around his bed, trying to find it. He needed to find it. It was one of the few things he had left that actually belonged to Cas.

The sound of rustling feathers interrupted his search.

Dean knew that sound, but more importantly he recognized the presence behind him. He was hesitant to turn around though. After all, what if this was just another dream? Then again, in his dreams he never got to feel that aura.

Dean turned around.

"Hello, Dean."

Concluded in Home...

AN: Castiel is totally my favorite character, and since I tend to put my favorites through the wringer the most, it's no surprise I killed him off. But I also love him too much to make him dead permanently, so he came back of course. This time. This was inspired by Never Alone by Barlow Girl. Also, I do believe that Chuck is God and I could see him and Death discussing his OTP Destiel over alcohol and decent food. Remember, reviews are nice.