N.A.: This is my first fanfiction in a long, long time. And pretty much the first one in here. Please, review and let me know what you think. And thank you for reading this. And I'm so sorry for the feelings.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. Obviously. And I am deeply sorry about it.

"You are like a brother to me", those were Dean's exact words.

Castiel didn't know why, but they were burnt on his mind ever since that day when he claimed himself as the new God. And they didn't really help in that moment, they only lit the fire of his anger at those damn humans who dared believe him as their equal.

"I have no family", was the only answer Castiel could find to those green eyes in front of him.

Truth was, he didn't want to kill them, but Dean's words almost made him do it.

And then, he got back to Heaven.

Dean closed his eyes as a heavy sigh escaped his lips, Bobby and Sam watching him from the other side of the room, unsure if they were incredibly lucky or if they have just watched a new end of the world as it began.

By the time the three of them were back at Bobby's, the worrying about the angel grew back again inside Dean's mind. Castiel couldn't be serious, could he? They have been friends for a while, they have lived a lot of things - and by a lot of things, he meant the goddamn Apocalypse – together, he had tried to help Cass on any way he possibly could, he watched him get drunk for first time, get kissed... They had been much more close than he ever tried with his own blood brother, for God's sake!

"Shit!", escaped from Dean's lips as he was trying and fix Baby's hood from the inside. There was nothing else he could do to avoid thinking about what was Castiel doing, what was he planning on doing, or even worse, what would he do if they went out there and started hunting him down. Dean just wanted things back to normal, you know, hunting monsters, cut the throats out of some demons, getting stuck on something really nasty and then call for Castiel's angelical help, he answering with his awkwardly personality, getting confused at Dean's jokes, then getting the job done TOGETHER, then invite him for a drink, or a snack, then he disappearing for a while, until they needed each other again.

He remembered driving Baby alone, and suddenly, out of nowhere, there was Cass, staring at him with those deep and sharp blue eyes that always seem to see beyond his soul. The half smirk that sometimes was visible from the thin lips of the angel. The confused look and tilted head when something was beyond his comprehension. The jokes always waiting for a laugh that never came -he never stopped trying, though.

Castiel had brought him back from Hell, his hand still printed on his skin, on his very soul. He was a friend, a confidant. He didn't know if angels had souls, but he was pretty sure Castiel had been, at least for a while, his soulmate. And now he was God. And hated him. Hated him, and his brother, and the mas who was like a father to both of them. Fuck, Cass.

"You just had to return those freaking souls to Purgatory, man!"

He hit the seat of the car with his left hand when he saw Bobby's cap appearing behind the door. He was holding a beer that Dean accepted without doubt and drank it while cleaning his other hand on the front of his overall.

"So, how do we do it?", Bobby asked, looking at the blank wall in front of him.

"Do what?", said Dean while sipping on the bottle again.

"You watched the news, idjit. He's out there killing people. Zealots and liar sons of bitches, I know, but people."

"I don't- I just..." Dean stared at the floor as if the oil splatters on the concrete were the most fascinating thing since Cinemax.

"Someone's gotta stop that friggin' angel, God, or whatever he believes he is. And that someone's gotta be us."

A lump on Dean's throat appeared when his mind threw him back to that night at a warehouse when he only got a quick look at the shadow of Cass' wings. He looked as almighty as Dean could've never imagined. The trenchcoat over that smaller figure in front of him and the shadow of the angelical nature of the man covering most of the ceiling in the building.

And the power he now held was way beyond those days. Oh, those long gone days.

/

He couldn't help it. Someone had to make sure they were fine. That he was fine. As much as bitterness as he felt in the gut, he had to make sure he was… fine.

The duties of being a God sometimes suffocated him, but he was sure that this all needed to be done. That people needed a God who could not stand hypocrisy, nor selfishness, nor false testimony. There had to be an order, and he had been chosen to bring it to the world. The world his father had abandoned at its own fate long ago, as he had done with his first children. In Heaven as in Earth, the children of the past God had been praying for an answer, for their beloved father who seemed to have forfeited his right with every passing decade.

But now he could put an end to the wondering. He could make this world a good one. A fair one. But he had to do it on his own. Alone.

He wouldn't admit it, but sometimes he longed for the morning coffee, the incomprehensible jokes, the hunger, the sleepiness. He missed sometimes the smell of the backseat of the Impala, the warmth of water on his back, the electricity of a touch, the wonder of dreaming. But, what was that compared to the power to create life? Of making the already existing into a better one? What was a half smile and a set of green eyes compared to the complete galaxy and constellation of souls living within him?

So he just watched once in awhile. And there he was, fixing his car. That car had probably been resuscitated more times than his current owner's family. And Castiel was somehow pretty sure that said car would outlive all of them. One way or another. And that almost made him smile.

/

Bobby was right. They just couldn't let God Cass do as he pleased. God my ass, he thought, suddenly realising how stupid it all was. "What kind of God can't even handle his own tie's knot, uh?", he almost laughed at the flashback of that time. "An assbutt one, of course."

Assbutt. That was the right word. Cass' only and one before going all molotov cocktail over Michael's ass. For fuck's sake. How did all ended like this? Oh, yeah. Freaking Crowley business. Freaking souls from Purgatory business. Cass, you dickhead.

But then he remembered Castiel as clear as day. His sleepy face in the mornings while being human. His sudden meat hunger from when they were trying to stop the Horsemen. His trench coat all bloody and wet. His body exploding to a million pieces at Lucifer's fingers snapping. His will to rebel to his own brothers, to his own father in order to protect him. Could he ever do something like that? Had he done it? No. All his life he had spent it trying to protect Sam. And Sam being as sloppy as it can get in a world full of motherfucking monsters, demons and freaking angels. Sam had turned against him, but he… He could've never done that.

And then there was Castiel again, giving his own life for them. For him. And now, he was going to hunt him? What gave him the right? Okay, the dude had made a pact with the frigging ruler of Hell, but so had Dean, and his father, and his mother… And what the fuck was wrong with everyone making pacts with fucking demons, for God's sake?

There had to be something he could do. Something to make Cass understand why it was wrong to be a God. But he honestly couldn't think of anything. He just kept remembering all the times Cass was sitting silently by his side, or the puppy-like face he had when he was sleep drunk. And that time he took him with him to investigate a case and Cass had accidentally showed his false FBI badge upside down with his all serious face and never flinched one inch. The guy was hilariously awkward. And a good guy. God. Dean was absolutely, one hundred percent sure that Castiel was a good guy. Much more better than himself or anyone he'd ever met.

/

He didn't want to be God. But there was no one else to take the mantle. There was no one else to do it instead of him. There was no one else… But there was him. He heard the muffled sigh on the back of his mind, the light groan, and there was no need to look directly at that face, because he knew Dean' sounds as he knew the ones of himself. And even if he was nowhere near to him, the bond they shared since he pulled Dean out of Hell made him able to watch over him wherever he was. Dean didn't knew that, though. And it was better that way.

He couldn't understand why the three of them, Bobby, Sam and even Dean, thought this was so wrong. After all, he was doing this for their own good. All the planet's population good. It was not like he was walking around killing every person that walked in front of him, he knew that would be completely out of limits. And now that he was God, he was trying to do better than the last one.

And then the sores appeared. He looked at his own reflection after a homeless man he returned his sight pointed it out. He hadn't looked at himself for the past weeks, but it seemed to be something obviously wrong with him. What if Dean was right? What if all the souls from Purgatory were more than he could handle? What if he lose control of himself and got innocent people hurt?

And that was exactly what happened.

In the blackout at the senator's office, there was only one thing he could see on the back of his own mind. And that was a set of green eyes staring at him with their respective brows almost touching each other with an anguished, mostly sad look. And he knew what he had to do.

/

Castiel's arrival was unexpected. He practically passed out in Bobby's living room, and with a soft voice begged for help. Dean ran by his side, all anger aside. There was something really wrong with the former angel, and the only thing crossing Dean's mind was what he could do to help him.

They went back to the lab where Castiel had invoked the resting souls from Purgatory into himself, and gathered all the necessary things to revert the spell. Dean was almost sure after the reversing, Castiel would be back to be his regular awkward self. Almost.

And when the symbols were written and the words were recited, and a hole in the wall had sucked back all the souls from that nasty hole named Purgatory, Dean let escape a little relieved sigh, walking towards Castiel to hug him, maybe kiss the goddamn idiot for making him worry this way. And then some black goo started pouring from Cass' forehead.

"You've got to be freaking kiddin' me", Dean thought to himself. "What is it?"

"Leviathan".

"RUN!", was the thing Castiel yelled at them before falling to his knees, choking onto the same black thing pouring from his throat.

Dean's eyes ran into Sam and Bobby as they all run the hell out of the building. "Goddamn, Castiel, what the fuck?", the question lingering on Dean's mind. No way he was gonna lose him again. No freaking way.

And then he felt a touch on the tip of his fingers, electricity running through his entire body, followed by the sight of Castiel running into the water at the end of the woods. And then, there was only the trench coat floating upside down and Castiel was nowhere to be found.

And it hurt on Dean's chest.