DISCLAIMER: Once more, I own nothing. Except Micah. Everyone and everything else belongs to Kripke and those dastardly writers of his.

SPOILERS: Anything up to 'The Monster at the End of This Book'.

A/N - Some bad words and maybe a slightly blasphemous and/or offensive mention of what Jesus might do on the weekends... so… yeah. Oh, and some taking of His name in vain. Man, that's like a one way ticket, isn't it?

Thanks to siriuslyyellow, my awesome beta who thinks Jensen and Misha love her more than me. Pfst. As if. ;)

Enjoy.

THE REPLACEMENT

Throughout the last six months of his life… or the first six, depending on how you looked at it, Dean Winchester had grown accustomed to the comings and goings of angels. He'd only met four, and half of them were jackasses.

The first one was dead, and good riddance.

The second one was missing with orders to be killed on sight, simply because she disobeyed an order.

The third was something of a megalomaniac who smiled too much, and that just seemed wrong.

And the last, also Dean's first, seemed to be trying his best to help, although Dean still thought he could be doing more, regardless of the chain of command.

Dean hadn't really liked Castiel in the beginning, what with the showing up, and ordering around, and God has a plan, but the guy had pulled him from Hell. He owed him something. And slowly, Cas had become a sort of welcome distraction. Because so much of Dean's life was taken up by Sam, and save Sam, and watch Sam and make sure Sam's not going dark side.

Castiel wasn't a great distraction, more often than not he brought more bad news and more cryptic orders; but he had a welcoming presence. That's really what Dean had started craving. Just the feeling of being welcome, of being wanted. Because he didn't get any of that from Sam, not any more. And it was hard to keep going when no one wanted or needed you and you didn't even want to be you.

As much as it hurt him to think it, Castiel was probably about the best thing he had going for him at the moment; and not just because Castiel was his best shot at saving Sam or made him feel wanted. Castiel was constant, something Dean sorely missed in his life.

Castiel could be counted on. Castiel would put himself out there in an attempt to help. Castiel would fight.

It was nice to know there'd be someone there to watch his back, because he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep turning around, waiting to see if Sam was standing there in a less than friendly manner.

Sam tapped on his window. He hadn't realized he'd parked the car and his brother had exited, waited and called to him and then walked to Dean's side of the car.

Dean looked out the window, nodded and smiled and exited the car.

Sam looked at him oddly. "You okay?"

"Yeah." He pushed past his brother, glancing back at him. "Seriously. I just wanna sleep." They were about fifteen hours from Chuck and Archangels and Lilith. They'd gotten a room, gone for food and now he just wanted a hot shower, some shut eye and maybe some angelic company to calm his nerves.

He opened the door to their room, and lo and behold, there was that distinctly angelic presence. But it wasn't the one he was hoping for.

In the center of their room stood an older man, maybe late forties, early fifties but still fit. His hair was brown and dusted with white, his eyes were gray and he wore a dark green polo shirt tucked into his dress khakis. His hands were clasped in front of him and his lips were twisted up into a little smirk.

"Dean Winchester," he said with a smile.

"Ugh," was the only response Dean could muster and his shoulders slumped as he walked into the room. Sam squeezed in behind him, closing the door and looking cautiously at the Being before them. "Why don't you just leave a message with my secretary, huh?" he said, hooking a thumb in Sam's direction. Sam glared at him. Why did God keep doing this to him? Couldn't he get just five minutes before God needed him for something else?

"Cute," the angel said, stepping forward and offering a hand. "I'm told it's your custom."

Dean eyed the hand and raised an eyebrow. Dean hadn't even shook Cas' hand. "I don't know you."

The man cocked his head to the side. It reminded Dean of Castiel. "Is this not a form of introduction?"

"What do you want?" Dean asked. He wanted to ask where Castiel was, but held back.

"Hmmm," was all the angel said before his gray eyes squinted at Dean, like he was taking Dean's measure. Then he turned his back and proceeded to look around the hotel room.

Dean looked at Sam again. His brother's lips were tight (angels were a touchy subject all around) and his head did one of those quick, hard jerks to the side that meant Sam had no idea what was going on, but he wasn't ready to say anything to provoke the angel either.

Screw that. "What the hell do you want?" Dean asked again, harsher this time.

The man turned. "My name is Micah."

"That's great." Dean replied with a harsh smile. "Not what I asked." He found his tolerance for any angel that wasn't Castiel to be running pretty thin these days. After Uriel - who he hadn't liked to begin with - and then Zachariah, and come on, that angel was higher up the food chain then Cas? Really?

"I'm here to guide you, Dean."

"Isn't that Cas' job?"

Apparently the angels tolerance for Dean was running thin these days too, because the man's eyes hardened as he replied, "Castiel is no longer available for this post."

He thought his heart stopped, or at least skipped several, painful beats. He saw Sam stiffen up from the corner of his eye, but he didn't want to look away and give this jerk a chance to flap his wings and get gone. "W-what?"

"Castiel is no longer available for this post."

Dean wanted to be angry, to yell, but he was scared it would do nothing but prompt the angel to leave. He had to stay calm, and fuck, he'd have to be nice if he wanted to know what happened to Cas.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Dean asked, worried, because it sounded bad. Dean didn't know what Cas did when he wasn't hanging around the Winchesters, but he doubted it was all heavenly tea-parties and keggers at Christ's house. It sounded to Dean like Cas was hurt, badly, or worse - he was dead. He knew angels could be killed and he knew there were angels out there who thought like Uriel had. God, what had Cas said they did with Lucifer's sword?

Micah sighed, and actually rolled his eyes, which actually pissed Dean off. This wasn't a joke to Dean and he didn't appreciate the attitude. He took a mental step back, because shit, Cas' early intolerance for Dean's attitude made sense now.

"It means what it means Dean."

"Is he dead?" Dean ground out. Vague must be a raging disease in Heaven.

Micah laughed, "No." He blinked slowly, taking up his earlier stance. "I am now to act as your liaison with Heaven."

Dean shook his head. No, this wasn't right. Castiel had spent all this time on Dean, pulling him out of the Pit, getting him to believe, to put some semblance of self worth into him, getting him to pray and accept what needed to be done. There was just no way Castiel would bail on him, leave him with this joker and his snide little smile.

Cas just wouldn't betray him like that.

"Where is he?" Dean asked flatly.

"Home."

"Why?"

This time the man's head shifted back as a laugh bubbled out of his throat, and Dean just really wanted to punch him right in his stupid, bobbing adams apple, "Come now, Dean." Micah replied, "You didn't think he could stay? With the way things were progressing?"

Dean felt his brows come together, "He didn't do anything wrong."

"But he was thinking it."

"Dean," Sam asked from behind. "What's going on?"

Dean held a hand out, silencing his brother. Micah continued, "He was starting to feel it Dean. Castiel cares deeply, he's extremely devout. We had hoped Castiel would be good for you, change you for the better. But you… we hadn't foreseen the effects you would have on him."

"So you just take him away from me?" He took a step towards the angel. "Huh, give him some time to 'get better', cause good angels don't think, right? They can't like people, they can't actually do anything that might be considered helpful!"

Gray eyes darted to the side, like they needed to think about the answer. Micah came back with a curt, "Yes and no. We didn't, as you so finely put it, take him away, but he does need time to recover. We can feel Dean, and we can make choices, but these are things we must use with caution. Too much can… well, the results are unfavorable."

Dean felt like slamming his fist into something. "He didn't do anything!"

"He allowed you to knowingly endanger a Prophet."

"Nothing was going to happen to-"

"That is irrelevant," the angel cut Dean off, his voice hard. "Castiel had been previously warned to mind himself when in your presence. He will be dealt with accordingly."

Dean guessed that Micah thought that that would be the end of that conversation, but Dean wasn't quite finished. "What the fuck does that mean?" He took another involuntary step forward and he felt Sam shift behind him. The air in the room had changed completely in the last ten seconds.

It had become entirely hostile. There was no room for niceties or for even trying to pretend to be calm and controlled. Dean wasn't scared of angels, he knew what they could do, sure, but he knew that he was needed too. And he'd be more damned than he already was if he was just going to sit back and take this on top of all the other crap he was being dealt.

The angel straightened his vessel, the man was only an inch or two taller than Dean, but it didn't matter. His eyes locked on to the cold gray of Micah's and Dean really, really wanted to shove a finger into the man's chest.

"What did they do to him?"

Micah ignored him. "There is a seal-"

Dean snapped. He was tired of being ignored and pushed around like a pawn. They couldn't just take Cas away from him, it was bullshit. He felt the fabric of the Micah's polo twist in his fingers, and just as quickly felt it ripped away. He thought he heard Sam shout his name, and then he found himself on his back, blinking white spots from his eyes and maybe something a bit warmer and wetter.

Sam was at his side, a hand on his shoulder, a hand over Castiel's mark.

The dusty haired Micah stepped closer to the brothers, looking none the worse for wear. "Castiel may have accepted your insolence. I will not."

Micah had started talking about the seal again as Dean shrugged Sam off and rubbed a hand over the scar himself. He got to his feet and went straight back to his earlier position; nose to nose with the angel, and stated, clear and hard, "No."

Gray eyes blinked back, slow and hard. "You can't possibly…help him. His current situation is directly caused by you."

"I don't have to do anything." Eyebrows shot up over hazel eyes. "Get it?"

Micah's lips pressed into a hard line. The fact wasn't lost on Dean that he had uttered exactly this same sentiment to Castiel not a day ago. He momentarily wondered how long he could go on using the threat of inaction before God would just tell them to find someone else. He wondered if that could happen. He sort of doubted it, what with the he who broke it deal.

Another thought struck Dean: he was needed. Maybe not in the manner he wanted, or by the people he really wanted, but he was needed. And twice now he had used that need against the people who had asked for it.

But he couldn't just sit back and take it anymore. He couldn't, it wasn't fair! All he wanted was to keep Sammy safe and to just have the one fucking angel he'd come to depend on. The one he actually trusted.

"Dean, this seal-"

"Oh, JESUS. FUCKING. CHRIST!" Dean shouted. The words just spilled off his tongue. He hadn't meant to say such a horribly blasphemous thing to an angel. He never would have said it in front of Cas, but there it was all the same.

Micah seemed to grow a foot in height. The room rocked and there was a flash of light and a hint of wings. Dean had probably just crossed a line, but he'd gotten a reaction he'd never gotten before, not from any of the other angels. He'd pissed Micah off.

The anger swirling around the angel was palpable, hard and smothering. Sam took a step back, and even though he didn't want to, Dean did as well.

The gray of Micah's eyes seemed to have turned to molten lead. "Dean Winchester, never shall you use the Lord's name in such a manner. Such an act of disrespect would be reprimanded in a way that you would surely find very… unpleasant."

Dean was so angry he could feel every muscle in his body twitching, aching to spring into action and take out the threat. "Fine then. Fuck you."

The Impala's keys were still in his hand, so he turned his back on the angel and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Sam was next to him a flash. "Dean, whoa, come on."

He grabbed at Dean's arm, trying to stop him. Dean spun away from him, growling, "Get off me." He made it to his car, and opened the door before Sam spoke again.

Sam was still standing where Dean had twisted out of his grip. He looked confused, "Dean what the hell is going on?"

"You heard him." Dean slammed the door closed. "Cas is gone, Sam. He's in it real deep with the Man upstairs because of me."

"Dean, I don't…" Sam trailed off, struggling for words. Dean looked at him, waiting for him to speak, daring him to say what Dean knew he was about to. "It can't be your fault." he finished.

And if Dean thought about it, it wasn't his fault, not really. He hadn't wanted to need the angel. He hadn't wanted anything to do with any of it. He wanted out, he wanted…he just wanted things to be the way they used to be. But he'd been backed into a corner, and he didn't have any one else to turn to.

When Dean woke up in the night, sweaty with nightmares of Hell, Sam was no where to be seen. Sam told him he was weak and holding him back, and Dean would still go above and beyond to save the kid. That's what had happened. He'd been desperate, again, to save his brother. Sam hadn't left him any options, he wouldn't run, and he wouldn't hear reason. He'd left Dean no choice but to threaten Castiel with inaction.

And that threat had resulted in Castiel's replacement.

Dean was still looking at Sam. "It's your fault," he whispered. Then louder, "It's your fault."

Sam's head rocked back like he was recoiling from a physical hit.

If Sam would have just been his brother for five minutes, stowed the lies and just been there, then that would have been Cas waiting in their hotel room. Dean wouldn't have needed Cas the way he had, wouldn't have threatened Cas, and Cas wouldn't have been in trouble.

He opened the car door, got in and swinging it closed again, he said, "Don't follow me."

TBC

Oooooh... haha, replies are like Jensen and Misha to me. =) Which is code for totally awesome and fully appreciated. Thanks for reading!