It's not that Castiel had a clear moment of revelation that day and decided, Oh, I know, I'm gonna get shit faced drunk today.

For one, revelation was nothing but hoax these days as God couldn't muster up enough care to throw any guidance to His creations.

For another, Castiel didn't know if he could get shit faced drunk, and frankly didn't wished to, because becoming powerless enough to be susceptible to mere liquid in the middle of goddamned Apocalypse was the worst life choice you could make.

That said, Castiel still found himself in a liquor store on that crisp early morning. The store wasn't open yet, but that didn't concern him. He bypassed any security measure with laughable ease, grabbed a random bottle, and began to chug.

For the record, Castiel didn't think that he was being melodramtic. Being melodramtic would be trying to start off the End just because Father wasn't answering your call. No, testing the very limit of your alcohol tolerance was a perfectly moderated response for getting personally brushed off by God. It wasn't like Castiel did everything to please Him from the beginning of his existence or anything, was it?

"Whoa, whoa. What do you think you're doing, bucko?"

Well into his inebritated state, Castiel only narrowed his eyes at the appearance of an errant Messenger. He didn't bother to stand up from his corner of drunken spree. Instead, he leaned against the wall and raised his head defiantlty.

"Fuck off," Castiel pronounced each syllable with care. If he was going to return what he heard from Him to His Messenger, he might as well make sure that his diction was as clear as possible.

Gabriel smirked, as if that was the funniest thing he had heard for awhile. "You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"It's not like Father would care."

Gabriel raised his brow. "Ah, I see. Finally wisen up to the fact the search for Daddy is futile?"

"He told me to back off. His message was crystal clear."

"Message?" Gabriel repeated. "Wait, are you being metaphorical or did Dad actually speak to you?"

The unuttered 'and not through me' was apparent to the both parties.

"You renounced any right to claim your former job the moment you decided to play pagan god, Trickster," Castiel said nastily. Truth be told, he knew that he should be more careful than this. While he was reasonably certain that Gabriel would not kill him -afterall, if the archangel wanted him dead, he had several opportunities before- but that didn't mean that painful retribution won't be waiting for him for his cheek.

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. "Watch your tone, little brother."

"What, would you explode me, too?"

They glared at each other, tense and angry. Then the archangel sighed, deflating a little.

"What happened to you, Castiel?"

Castiel lifted one shoulder and let it fall, as he had seen the Winchesters do. "Life."

An unreadable expression crossed the archangel's face.

"Told you sticking with those boys would end badly for you," he said as he decided to sit next to Castiel. While the said angel wasn't particularly happy with this sitting arrangement, it wasn't like he could drag anyone away in his state.

"I have no memory of you telling me so."

"Well, I may have not given you an eloquent speech, but what did you think I was trying to show you in the TV land?"

"You shoved me into a dog's body, made me chase rabbits, and set hunters after me," Castiel said in a flat voice.

Gabriel wagged his finger. "No, no, the hunters made you chase the rabbits, not me."

"What does that matter? You're the one who created the situation."

"You're forgetting that I was trying to teach you a lesson there," Gabriel snapped himself his favorite brand of beer. "I'm a Trickster, as you had oh so gently reminded me."

Castiel continued to give him an unimpressed stare.

"Fine," Gabriel sighed dramatically. "It sucks when some mutton heads can't appreciate good allegory. You have to hit them with an anvil and lay everything out or they don't understand."

"What allegory?"

"Exactly what I was talking about, bro," Gabriel winked, drinking straight from the bottle. "Let's skip the whole story about Han Xin and Liu Bang for now, because I know it would only make you distracted. Bottom line is, you're the dog, the Winchesters are the hunters. That would make Mikey and Lucy as the rabbits in this story, but what the hell, I think they can afford some ego bruising. You following so far?"

Castiel nodded, drink addled brain making him slow.

Gabriel's smirk suddenly disappeared, leaving his amber eyes old and ancient. "They may pet you when they need you to hunt the rabbits, but the moment the rabbits are caught, they're gonna turn against you so fast that you won't know what's happening. You gotta watch where you're headed."

Castiel opened his mouth to protest, but stopped, looking back on what happened in that little world Gabriel had created.

"You didn't let me change back until I bit the hunters," Castiel said quietly.

Gabriel shrugged, smiling mysteriously. "Take that as however you want. I've explained enough."

Castiel felt himself sobering a little. And that was the last thing he wanted. He staggered up to gather more fortifying alcohol. He didn't want anymore introspection. He was supposed to be able to enjoy the blank comfort of alcohol today.

He sat back with armful of bottles.

"You're wrong," Castiel couldn't resist saying. "Sam and Dean won't do that to me."

"Oh, yeah?" Gabriel smirked challengingly. "Heard about that time travel stunt of yours. Did the two mutton heads know what they were asking of you? How much price do you have to pay before you wisen up?"

"I chose willingly to offer them my assistance," Castiel replied rigidly.

"Uh-huh, so you're going to keep helping them over your own family, knowing how badly it can end?"

"Wouldn't setting Michael against Lucifer tear our family as well?" Castiel countered. "And more of our brothers and sisters would die in the upcoming war. I believe stopping the Apocalypse is the right thing to do. And as for your other concern," Castiel took a deep breath. "Sam and Dean weren't the ones who tortured me for having a different opinion. They didn't kill me, or trap me in the ring of holy fire," he looked straight at his brother's eyes. "If anyone is hurting me, it's not them, Gabriel."

It seemed the archangel didn't have any comeback for that. Mute, he turned his head away.

For several long hours, they each nursed their own drink without a word.

The stalemate ended when Castiel's phone vibrated. The seraph fumbled with the device, not yet used to this human contraption enough to use it with ease even in an inebriated state.

He managed to open the voicemail.

'Cas, hey, uh, it's me,' said Sam's voice. 'So we are in Blue Earth, Minnesota, and um, we could use a little help. I… hope you get this.'

Castiel lowered his phone, and shot a wary glance at the archangel. Would he try to stop him from leaving? Castiel wasn't sure of his odd.

"Go lil' bro, I'll take care of the bill," Gabriel waved him off. "Just one thing," he started but hesitated, as if he was unsure whether or not he should bring attention to the topic he was about to mention.

At last he asked, "Aren't you going to ask for my help?"

Castiel stood, wondering how much honesty he could afford here.

Then again, what more did he have to lose?

"I spent the last few months searching for aid from someone who didn't show any care," Castiel answered quietly. "I won't waste my time any longer begging for assistance when I know that it won't be coming."

He turned, not caring for the archangel's reaction. He flied to the Winchesters.


You were wrong, Gabriel, Castiel thought bitterly as he took off his tie and wrapped it around his palm.

The archangel had tried to teach a wrong lesson to Castiel. He shouldn't have tried to warn Castiel about the chance of Winchesters discarding him after they were finished with their mission.

No, instead, Gabriel should have warned him about the surrender, how Dean would throw away the mission and everything that Castiel had done for him in a heartbeat.

Castiel felt his blood boil once again, but ruthlessly suppressed it. There was no time for that.

"I'll clear them out. You two grab the boy. This is our only chance."

"Whoa, wait," Dean said, looking alarmed. "You're gonna take on five angels?"

What was the Winchesters with their stupid questions? "Yes."

"Isn't that suicide?"

For a second, Castiel imagined laying it all out on Dean:

My brother tried to warn me, did you know? He was worried, in his own twisted way, that you were going to use me and discard me. And I had thought about that, but I had not cared. I would have, as I already have, gladly went on to any suicide mission you asked of me if it meant giving you a chance to win against this war. But instead, you even took away my chance to die for a worthwhile cause. Now, all I have is this.

But what was the use? He wouldn't bare his heart only for it to be trampled away.

"Maybe it is. But then I won't have to watch you fail," Castiel spoke with the only words he could spare. "I'm sorry, Dean. I don't have the same faith in you that Sam does.

He pulled a box cutter out of his pocket.

"What the hell are you gonna do with that?" Sam asked, worry tinging his voice.

Castiel had a half of mind to remain defiantly silent, but forced himself to explain as the last thing he needed was the brothers barging in and ruining his final plan. He started to carve the sigil into him, but nobody asked again about his chance of survival. Dean opened and closed his mouth for a few times, but ultimatrly remained silent. Castiel preferred it.

He finished the sigil, closing the red line in full circle.

Did the two mutton heads know what they were asking of you?

Castiel smiled grimly.

It was time to pay the price for his faith.


AN: This was supposed to be a funny, cracky fic with drunken Cas and Gabriel, but rewatching 5x08, 5x16, 5x17 and 5x18 for reference turned out to be a mistake. Both Cas and Gabriel was just so angry and was in no mood for anything light hearted xp. Anyway, hope you enjoyed the fic!