A/N: Thank you Cruelest Sea for the review! Actually, thank you for reviewing and favoriting all of my stories. I've never gotten a chance to say so before since your private messaging is turned off. But I do appreciate your readership as much as everyone else's! :) Also thank you to Guests Lychee and Tmk13, who I also can't PM. ^_^
Now here's the conclusion!

Part Two

An array of pulsing auras spilled out through the door, and a split second later, all of it came crashing down in a deluge on Castiel. He dropped to his knees, gasping for breath as emotion after emotion coursed through him, filling in the spaces left vacant and hollow when Lucifer had systematically detached them. They had been overwhelming before—fear, regret, helplessness, despair—but now it was too much, too overpowering.

"Cas. Cas!"

Hands gripped his arms and braced him as his body shuddered under the violent assault. Castiel clapped the sides of his head, afraid he would explode from the pressure.

But as the pieces gradually settled back into their proper places, the torrential flood eased, leaving the dull throb of everything Castiel carried constricting his chest like a vice.

"Cas? Talk to me!"

He pried his eyelids open and blinked to find Sam's worried face inches from his own. They were both on the floor at the bottom of the stairs leading out of the bunker, Sam holding him up as his body tried to list sideways.

"Oh god," the Winchester choked. "I'm sorry, Cas. I thought I was helping. Are you okay?" He kept glancing around worriedly, and Castiel remembered they were in his mind, not the real bunker. Though, he suspected that was where his body was being kept.

"I'm fine," Castiel managed to get out. He slowly lowered his arms to brace his palms on the concrete. Sam didn't let go of him, though, for which he was grateful because he was still feeling rather woozy.

"Are you…" Sam hesitated. "You know, you again?"

"Whole, yes." A hard lump lodged in his throat. He vaguely remembered his actions while under Lucifer's spell, of doing nothing but sitting in front of that TV. It sickened him to have been so docile. Yet, at the same time, part of him missed the way it had been painless.

Castiel gave himself a sharp mental shake in disgust. What if Lucifer had attacked the Winchesters again and Castiel would have been unable—unwilling—to help them? Wait, hadn't Crowley… Images of the demon getting the crap beat out of him by Lucifer flitted through Castiel's memory. And he'd just sat there and let it happen.

"Shit," Sam muttered. "You're shaking. Can you wake up now? Or, what do I need to do to help you heal?"

Castiel blinked owlishly at him. "What?"

A muscle in the Winchester's jaw ticked. "You're dying, remember?" His gaze flicked around guardedly again.

Castiel craned his neck back to look up at the ceiling as some dust trickled loose. Oh, yes, he was dying. A combination of how hard the grace of an archangel had ridden him, and the trauma from when Amara had violently ripped Lucifer out.

"I remember," he said, then frowned at Sam. "What are you doing here? It's dangerous to enter a mind in this state."

Sam's expression hardened. "Yeah, but I had no other way to find out what was wrong and how to help you. So…now that you're not under Lucifer's spell anymore, can you heal?"

Castiel didn't immediately answer, and it took a moment for him to realize why—he didn't want to heal. He supposed he could, but it would take time and energy, and he just couldn't seem to muster the strength to even consider it. He'd been fighting for so long…

Sam's eyes narrowed. "Cas? Your grace can heal you, right?"

Castiel hesitated. "Perhaps…"

Sam's hold on his arms tightened painfully. "Then tell me what Dean and I need to do to help. A spell, potion, something?"

Castiel felt his shoulders sagging. "You don't need to do anything. Just…just let things run their course." He winced as Sam's fingernails dug into his biceps.

"What…no!" Sam gave him a rough shake. "Cas, you can fight this!"

"I don't want to," he gritted out.

Sam's face slackened in horror and he reeled back, finally releasing his grip. Castiel slumped against the banister, still unable to fully hold himself up. He slid his gaze away from the pain on the Winchester's face.

"Please, Sam," he found himself begging. "I'm…I'm tired. Please don't ask for more. I have nothing left to give you and Dean."

Silence throbbed between them like a palpable, raw wound. Castiel briefly considered just pushing Sam out of his mind and back to the waking world, but the truth was he didn't have the strength for even that.

Strong arms wrapped around him suddenly, pulling him into a crushing embrace. Castiel stiffened, but Sam didn't say anything, and after a moment, Castiel was frankly just too exhausted to resist. He sagged, soaking in the waves of care and concern wafting off the younger Winchester. Castiel knew he should be wary of Sam using it to convince him to come back, but there was a freedom in knowing it probably wouldn't work this time. And…it was selfish, but part of him didn't want to die alone.

So when Sam finally pulled back, Castiel felt the loss like the void where pieces of his wings were falling apart. But it was for the best, he knew that.

However, Sam grabbed his arms and helped shift Castiel so they were both sitting on the concrete with their backs braced against the side of the banister. A few more minutes of silence ticked by, in which Castiel was growing uncomfortable. He had expected more yelling, more manipulation. Not…simple companionship.

"Dean and I have never thanked you for everything you've done for us, have we?" Sam finally spoke up.

Castiel blinked. What?

Sam angled a rueful look his way. "For rebelling against Heaven to help us, for stopping Raphael from kicking off Apocalypse 2.0, taking my Cage scars—"

Castiel looked away. "I gave those to you in the first place."

Sam let out a heavy sigh. "No, you didn't, Cas. I got those when I chose to jump into the Pit with Lucifer. Which you got me out of. Another thing I never properly thanked you for. And who's to say the wall wouldn't have come down eventually?"

Castiel clenched his jaw. "That does not excuse my actions. Nor my gross oversight in not retrieving your soul to begin with, thereby sparing you those extra years of torture."

"Do you think I haven't forgiven you for that? For all of it?"

Castiel considered it for a moment. "No, I know you have. You're a remarkable human being, Sam, with a great capacity for love and forgiveness, despite everything you've been through."

Sam was quiet, and Castiel wondered if he'd made the Winchester uncomfortable.

"Then you helped us gank Dick," Sam continued, as though the conversation hadn't detoured. "Helped us out on hunts after you got back from Purgatory."

Castiel almost interrupted to say that he was actually spying on the Winchesters for Naomi at the time, which equalled not helping, but Sam was still talking.

"It was your plan that finally brought down Metatron. You worked yourself into the ground trying to help me find Dean when he was a demon, and then you helped us find a cure for the Mark."

"In each of those instances," Castiel began, voice strained, "I made things worse."

Sam shook his head. "None of us knew what the consequences would be, for any of it. You were trying to do the right thing, the best way you knew how. And just because it didn't work out the way we hoped doesn't mean we never should have shown our appreciation for what you sacrificed all those times." Sam paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was much lower. "We never should have treated you as just a resource or weapon."

Castiel's gaze dropped to his lap where lax hands rested. Hands that had fought for good and yet wrought so much destruction. Hands he had stolen from Jimmy Novak, and later somehow absorbed into his own being. His hands.

"I was made to be a soldier," he said quietly.

"Dean and I were made to be vessels," Sam replied. "We ripped out that ending a long time ago. So did you." He glanced over. "We wrote something new, the three of us. And…Dean and I dropped the ball with you."

Castiel frowned, and Sam just gazed at him with sadness and regret.

"Do you really not believe that you're family to us?"

Castiel tensed. "What makes you say that?"

Sam nodded knowingly, as though he could see past Castiel's carefully guarded exterior. "You said Dean and I would get over you dying, that you were expendable and that's why you were the best person to say yes to Lucifer."

Castiel fidgeted. "I…wasn't myself."

"But it's how you really felt. Feel." Sam's throat bobbed. "Dean and I haven't done the best job showing you otherwise, have we?"

Castiel quickly shook his head in protest. He did not want Sam to feel guilty about any of this. Castiel had made poor decisions, and he was reaping the consequences. The fact that the Winchesters gave him numerous second chances at all was more than he deserved.

"I…know you and Dean care about me," he started. "In the only way you can."

Sam shot his hand up. "Wait, what does that mean? The only way we can?"

Castiel rolled his shoulder. He did not want to get into this.

Sam shifted to face him. "Cas, talk to me, please."

His throat constricted, trying to cut off the words suddenly rising up in an effort to pour out. "I…will never be what you and Dean are to each other. Which is fine, I accept that. Your friendship is more than I could ask for. You're…more family to me than my angelic brethren. At least you and Dean give me a chance to redeem myself after each mistake."

Sam leaned back, closing his eyes in apparent grief.

"Please don't feel bad, Sam. I'm grateful for what I have, really. And I'm touched that you came here. I…I've never gotten a chance to say goodbye before." He just regretted that Dean wasn't here as well. But at least Sam would be able to convey a final message.

When Sam opened his eyes, they were glistening. "I don't know how to fix this," he whispered.

Castiel frowned. "There's nothing to fix, Sam."

The Winchester let out a bitter snort. "Yeah, there is. So much." He ran a hand down his face and slumped back against the banister. The movement knocked loose a few granules of dust that sprinkled down onto his shoulder.

Castiel felt a pang of regret. "You should leave soon. I don't want you to get hurt."

"No," Sam said with staunch firmness, looking up to meet Castiel's gaze with steely determination. "I am not leaving you to die."

Castiel couldn't hold back a sigh. "Why can't you just let me go?"

"Because you're family, and that's not what we do."

"Sam, I can't—"

Sam surged upright to yank him into another embrace. "You're right, I thought I could get over your death," he rushed out. "I thought I could respect your wishes after I learned you'd said yes to Lucifer. But I can't do it, Cas. You do mean as much to me as Dean does, and I will not stand by and let you drown like this. I've already let it go on too long. I'm sorry. God, I am so sorry."

Sam was shaking now, jarring Castiel's weakened body. The angel reached his arms up to hug back. He wished he had the grace to take Sam's pain away, ease some of the guilt. It wasn't the young Winchester's fault, none of it was.

"Dean's falling apart," Sam said. "Watching you die is killing him, too."

Castiel's shoulders slumped wearily. Here it was, the emotional manipulation to convince him to come back. Because he would always come back to help the Winchesters.

"Sam…"

Sam pulled back and gripped the sides of Castiel's head to lock gazes. "You think it's penance, right? Or that we need you to come back so you can be useful? It's not, Cas. You're not in the way in the bunker; you being there helps make it home! For us and you. You don't have to do anything to earn it."

"It doesn't matter," Castiel bit out.

Sam stared at him helplessly, letting go and leaning back. "Why not?"

"Because it's too hard!" Castiel reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "These feelings…Sam, it's too much. Ever since my time as human, everything has been amplified. You say I've been forgiven for my mistakes, but the memory of them still hurts. The memory of lots of things hurt." A brief glimpse of Dean's fists raining down on him flashed through his mind, quickly followed by Castiel doing the same to him, vision coated in a red haze.

"I'm…I'm broken. What kind of angel am I like this?" He let out a derisive snort. "Not one, that's what. Lucifer was able to possess me, Amara barely gave me a second glance because I was all used up and no threat to her, and even Metatron could see…" He choked off.

Sam rocked back on his heels. Then he shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "I knew it," he muttered. "I knew things weren't okay. But the Darkness was on the loose and that's what we were focusing on. That's what we always focus on—the next big threat to the world, at the expense of everything else."

Castiel sighed wearily. "Those things are more important."

"No." Sam skewered him with a resolute glare. "You know how we manage to come out on top? By rallying together." He let out a humorless laugh. "Imagine the force we could be if we just did that from the start."

"Except I'm not strong enough to help you anymore," Castiel pointed out.

Sam reached over to squeeze his forearm. "It was never about you being a powered-up angel. Yeah, that's handy, but even without your grace, you're family. And I know we haven't proven it with actions, but give us a chance, Cas. I promise I will do everything I can to make it right. Dean will too. I'm pretty sure he's already figured out how we screwed up."

Castiel closed his eyes in grief. "You're asking me to fight again."

"Yes. Fight to hold on, to come back to us."

He lolled his head toward Sam. "I'm so tired…I don't know if I can."

Sam tightened his grip. "I'll help you. I know what it's like to be dead-tired down to your very soul. After the Trials, when I was dying, I was ready to give up because it was easier."

Castiel canted a wry look at the young man. "You were angry with Dean for forcing you to live."

Sam inhaled a sharp breath. "Yeah, I was. But I understand now why he did, and I was more upset with his methods. So I'm not gonna trick you into living, Cas."

"I doubt you'd find an angel to possess me in that manner, anyway," Castiel interrupted.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Probably not. But I'd rather you chose to hang on. We'll do this together."

Castiel tipped his head back against the banister and gazed at the crackled ceiling. What would it take this time, to hold on? What was waiting for him on the other side? Sam's promise of family, of a home? Castiel had never wanted anything as much as that, and yes, Sam had been correct that he'd spent years trying to do enough penance to earn those things.

"I…I'm not sure how."

Sam's expression softened with understanding and compassion. "You're pretty beat up, right? From Lucifer and Amara? That's gonna take time to heal."

Castiel nodded. He required a lot of time to mend lately.

"Okay." Sam settled back against the banister and crossed his arms. "Then we'll just hang here for a bit."

Castiel frowned. "I'm not sure it's a good idea for you to stay. I can't tell how much time is passing in the waking world. Your body will need nutrition, and Dean will be worried."

Sam shrugged. "Yeah, Dean's gonna be pissed when he finds our bodies." He grimaced, perhaps already imagining the reaming he would get in the future. "And unfortunately, I didn't leave the spell out so he could make his own potion and come join us."

Ah, that explained why the older Winchester wasn't here as well. Castiel cocked his head. "Why didn't you tell Dean you were attempting this?"

"I was afraid it wouldn't work," Sam said. "And I didn't want to get his hopes up. Like I said, he's been a mess."

Castiel did feel bad for causing Dean that kind of pain. Part of him still believed the Winchesters would get past it, with time. But the longer Sam stayed, the less certain Castiel was of that. Still, Dean was going to be very upset…

"You should wake up," Castiel said. "And assure Dean you're alright. He needs you."

Sam shook his head. "You need me more right now. And I'm hoping we've gotten to the point where Dean trusts me. Yeah, it won't stop him from worrying, but he should have enough faith in me to trust what I'm doing."

Castiel's gaze drifted to the floor. Why was Sam doing this? Why was he putting himself at risk? Why was he putting Castiel above Dean?

"I thought you would be mad about me letting Lucifer out," he said quietly.

"I was, at first," Sam admitted. "But we've all made shitty deals we thought were right at the time. Remember it was me drinking demon blood and killing Lilith that let Lucifer out the first time."

"You didn't know better. I…" Castiel swallowed hard. "I did."

Sam sighed audibly. "Amara was a pretty big threat. Yeah, Lucifer was bad, but in the end it was him that defeated her."

Castiel scoffed. "By accident."

Sam gave him a wry smirk. "Still, it worked. You helped save the world again."

"If Lucifer had survived, I also would have endangered it."

Sam glanced away for a moment. "When we were trying to get the Mark off Dean…I knew there would be consequences. I didn't know what, but we'd been warned that using magic from the Book of the Damned came at a high price. And I did it anyway. That's how the Darkness was released in the first place. So, you shouldn't feel like you have a monopoly on bad decisions." Sam's face cracked into a grin then. "We actually have a lot in common. Remember telling me that the only person who's consistently screwed up just as much was you?"

Castiel furrowed his brow. He vaguely remembered that…when Sam was feeling guilty because Gadreel had killed Kevin while possessing the Winchester. "I believe I said I screwed up more."

"Nah," Sam said. "I think we're tied."

Castiel fell into a contemplative silence for a moment before speaking again, hesitantly—"I think Dean's catching up."

Sam laughed. "We're quite the dysfunctional family."

Castiel felt the corner of his mouth start to tug upward. Yes, they were.

"Hey," Sam said eagerly. "Do you feel up to taking a little walk?"

Castiel quirked a confused brow. "We're in my head. Where is there to walk to?"

Sam climbed to his feet. "The dormitory. This is an exact replica of the bunker, right? We should pick out a bedroom for you. Not just a place for you to sleep or stay out of the way, but your room."

"Oh, that's…"

Sam held a hand out. "Can you stand?"

Castiel found himself pushing off the ground without thinking. Sam gripped his arm and helped haul him to his feet. Castiel stumbled, but the initial dizziness faded rather quickly.

Sam beamed at him, and with a supportive touch on his elbow, started leading him to the corridor and down to the dormitory wing. They reached the room Castiel had spent a great deal of time in while he'd been healing from Rowena's spell, and entered.

Sam's gaze roved around the bare walls, plain bed, and empty shelves. "Do you like this one? I didn't realize how close it was to the radiator. If you want to move away from the sounds, we can pick another one."

"No, that's okay," Castiel hurried to reply.

"I mean it, Cas," Sam pressed. "This is your home, too. It should be comfortable."

"I…appreciate that. But…I find the background noise comforting. It's very quiet without angel radio."

Sam gave him a questioning look. "Did you turn it off again?"

He nodded. "It was becoming…disheartening. All the chatter being about how the angels wanted to hunt me down and destroy me."

Sam's jaw tightened. "Right," he said in a low voice, then more cheerfully, "We can get you a sound machine. One of those that play noise from the beach, or rain."

Castiel was somewhat taken aback. "That sounds nice, actually."

Sam grinned, then gestured at the shelves. "You should personalize the space, too." His expression fell a fraction at that. "You've never really had any possessions to call your own, have you?"

"Well, as an angel, I never had use for anything."

"What about when you were briefly human?"

Castiel looked away. "I, uh, had a toothbrush." He reluctantly glanced back at Sam, wincing when he found the Winchester gaping at him incredulously.

"Nothing else?"

He rolled his shoulder in discomfort. "I didn't have anywhere to keep things."

"Because Dean kicked you out," Sam said in a hushed tone.

"He had his reasons," Castiel immediately jumped to defend.

Sam just shook his head sadly. "And that's part of the reason we're here now, isn't it?"

Castiel frowned. "It was your idea to come down here…"

"No, I mean…" Sam shook his head in what seemed like fond exasperation. "Here in your head after Lucifer put you through the wringer."

"Oh."

Was that part of the reason? Castiel had been hurt by Dean's rejection. Confused at first, but then realizing it was because he had screwed up yet again. Plus, being human meant he was useless…ah, he now saw Sam's point. Had Castiel been wrong all this time? And, had the Winchesters not meant to suggest that was how they felt?

Sam cleared his throat. "Uh, we could hook up a TV in here, but…um, I'm not sure that would be very healthy, considering…"

Right, considering Castiel had hidden himself away for days after Rowena's spell, binge watching and barely able to leave the bunker. And then when Lucifer had sunk his claws into him, he'd distracted Castiel with the analog box again.

"You're probably right."

Sam looked at him sympathetically. "We can still watch things together in the study room."

Castiel nodded slowly. "I think I'd like that."

Sam seemed pleased by that, though Castiel didn't understand why. They talked more about decorating options for Castiel's room, books that he might like to read that he could keep on the desk, or perhaps a journal, and other things he might simply want, not need, because he didn't need much. Castiel hesitantly mentioned acquiring a sketchbook, which Sam had eagerly supported.

When the Winchester moved to run his hand down the wall, Castiel was afraid paint colors would be the next topic, which seemed a little overboard because not even the brothers had repainted their bedrooms. But Sam merely turned around with a barely contained smile, and suggested they head to the library where there were more comfortable chairs.

Once settled, Sam asked him about food, and whether it still tasted like molecules, or if his ever-changing state meant he could enjoy eating again. Castiel wasn't sure, given he'd been possessed by the Devil the past few months and hadn't had occasion to test it. Sam said they would later. Dean liked to cook, and it made him feel better to take care of people that way.

"Even if he sometimes makes the most disgusting concoctions," Sam said, and jabbed a finger at Castiel. "Don't feel obligated to eat everything he puts in front of you."

"…Alright."

Castiel was quite perplexed by Sam's behavior. Never in all the years he'd known the man had Sam spent this much time conversing with him. At least, not about things unrelated to a case or helping Dean. But Castiel had to admit it was kind of nice. And relaxing.

He didn't realize he'd nearly forgotten about where they were or why until Sam suddenly leaned forward in his chair and gripped Castiel's forearm.

"I think you're healing well, Cas. The cracks are fully gone." Sam thrust his chin toward the walls and ceiling, and it took a moment for Castiel to realize that the spiderweb fissures and crumbling dust were no longer present. Everything felt…sturdy.

"Want to try waking up now?" Sam asked cautiously.

Castiel instinctively tensed, and his expression must have revealed his fear, because Sam squeezed his arm reassuringly.

"It'll be okay, Cas."

He craned his head around nervously. "How long have you been here? Sam, what if your body—"

"Dean's not gonna let me shrivel up and die," he interrupted calmly. "I bet he'd like to see you, though. Do you feel strong enough? If not, we'll just stay here a little while longer."

Castiel gave Sam a half-frustrated, half-anguished look. He didn't want to risk Sam like this. Castiel should wake up now, if only to make sure the Winchester's physical body wasn't declining. But…he was also afraid. Afraid that he wouldn't be able to handle returning to the world, wouldn't be able to handle the cruel disappointment of realizing that nothing he did would change anything.

Sam tugged at his arm, drawing his gaze to the Winchester's. Sam's eyes swam with emotion and promises, and Castiel wanted to believe.

He let out a shaky breath. "Alright."

Sam nodded in encouragement, waiting for Castiel to make the first step. He closed his eyes, reaching for the thread of this mental bubble, this shield that had protected him, kept him safe. But Sam was still clasping his arm, guiding him out with the promise that he would still be safe, as long as he was with the Winchesters.

Castiel took hold of the thread, and with a single yank, unraveled it all.

His vision was blurry when he blinked his eyes open to a concrete ceiling. The bunker. Turning his head slowly, his gaze took in gray walls and a familiar arrangement of furniture. His room. And slumped in a chair by his bed was Sam, pallor pale with dark circles under his eyes. He looked sickly. There was a blanket draped across his lap and an IV port taped to the inside of his elbow. Castiel realized there was a tightness in his arm where a slow-drip line had been put in as well.

Sam's eyelids fluttered before he focused on Castiel. Then he smiled.

A shadow filled the doorway, and both turned to take in Dean, who looked about as bad as they did, his jaw dropped open in stunned stupor.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel rasped.

Dean's mouth made several movements, though no sounds came out. He finally crossed his arms and glared at both of them sternly. "I don't know whether to punch or hug you idiots first."

Sam grinned at his brother, then back at Castiel. "Welcome home, Cas."

Castiel felt his lips turn up in a return smile. Yes, he was home.