Title: All Things Must Come To Pass
Rating: pg
Genre and/or Pairing: Pre-slash Castiel/Dean
Spoilers: Just assume up to Season 5 Ep 18
Warnings: Liberal use of an angel not in the supernatural show for POV.
Disclaimer: I own nothing! Not a thing! I'm just borrowing for a little bit but then I promise to return them :)
Authors notes: Well this was spawned out of practically no where XD! I said I wanted to write Destiel and I asked Cloudyjenn for some suggestions and this is what I got: "today is jealous!Castiel on AprilTwitfic! If that sets your muses a-goin'". Apparently it did.

While Castiel was now mortal, he was by no means human. This meant that while his life was limited, his heartbeats numbered, there were certain key elements to him that remained angelic.

Like his memory, for example. Cas had all the memories of thousands of years trapped inside him. The wealth of knowledge that came from it would be a complete gold mind for scholars: he knew all the languages of man, all the profits, the wise men, all the kings and scholars. He knew all the languages of not only man alone, but names. So many names traversing in endless lists through his mind. Names like those of theoretical gods, monsters, brothers, sisters, and the ones he served with.

He knew so very much that it was of no surprise he knew every detail of the celestial being standing before him, eyes searching for some kind of answer to a question not yet spoken.

"It's time brother." The angel's voice was soft, gentle like a faint whisper remarkably audible enough to be well heard.

"No." But Cas didn't care about the melodious tone or pacifying demeanor because this meeting was an unpleasant one. One which he had predicted years prior and had preemptively prepared himself for many days gone pass.

"Castiel…" His brother scolded like you would a young child, no earnest callousness but the disapproving point was well made.

"I said NO, Azrael." And he meant it. Cas' hands were clenched, his jaw was set, and his eyes were determined to not back down regardless of the consequences. This was far too important of a standstill to back down. The world, or more accurately, HIS world, was ridding on it.

Brother Azrael paused then, tilting his head to the side as he crossed his arms and appeared to be contemplating something. The archangel was perhaps one of the most misunderstood and misrepresented angels throughout history. Humans, demons and even angels alike were all wary of him, always avoiding his gaze or running away on principle.

But not Castiel. Because Castiel had been given the rare opportunity to meet with Azrael once before, years ago when Raphael chose to destroy him. As the furry of one archangel broke past his physical form, the serene grace of another pulled him from the pain. And that's when he learned to no longer be afraid, because Death had been benevolent and Azrael was easy to yield to. Then, from the ashes, God raised him and gave back what his brother eternally took away. Life.

Azrael was the angel of death, and Castiel wasn't stepping down to him.

"I have orders to erase his name." The seraph took a step forward and the still around him followed. His being was a combination of silence and lethal tranquility wrapped in grace and given a peaceful disposition that no one ever sees because they're all too busy watching their lives flashing before their eyes.

"I don't care."

Castiel's life was not flashing before his eyes. Not because he didn't have a lot of life to review upon his death, but because Azrael was not here for him.

"Dean Winchester has lived and died many times, brother, even cheated his way out of my touch a few times. Nevertheless, I was personally sent to reside over this death because I'm afraid it is his last. This is important and I can't refute my orders. You must understand that." If it were possible for an archangel to beseech another, Azrael would be doing so; however, since that was not the case he merely stood there impassively with arms crossed over his chest and gaze lingering on the prone figure laying motionless in the arms of his equally motionless younger brother.

Castiel's eyes were hardened ice, teeth gritting hard enough to hurt as he stood in front of the Winchesters. They were frozen in time because Cas had entered the fray to stop what seemed unstoppable.

"He is my charge-"

"And all charges must be released to me upon the end of their allotted time."

"-which means..." Castiel could tell Azrael was losing his patience but this was vital. "...he's mine, and I will not allow another one of my kin to remove him from me again. Not even you, brother."

"Charges are not owned." Azrael's eyebrow knitted together,. "You are simply sent to watch them. Not possess them, Castiel."

"Dean is different, God gave him to me." More accurately God gave Castiel to Dean, but the misplaced angel figured the details were a bit indistinct in these regards. After all, it was a two way street.

There was a deafening silence that followed which quaked the fray into a calm. The fray that had always been known for its confusing muddled sounds that it picked up from both the earthly and heavenly planes. Hours seem to crawl by in this space of nihility, the two kin remaining motionless as if to dare the other to move first.

Azrael finally broke.

And while Castiel had expected many things; a battle, a fight that would possibly cost him his very existence… what he had NOT expected was laughter.

Pearls of laughter falling all around him, filling the void of muted tones and colors with something phenomenally bright and... awkward. The former member of the host shifted uncomfortably as he eyed his brother warily, unsure of how to react just yet.

"I was warned of your roguish behavior but I didn't honestly think you would have gone this far, brother."

Castiel felt like he was being mocked and his fists tightened in reaction, fingers twitching for a blade that he could kill even his own kind with. Yet he remained motionless and without words, even if his thoughts were starting to churn with a few choice phrases he had borrowed and stored for later use from the oldest Winchester.

"Castiel," Azrael chuckled with sympathetic eyes as he moved closer, "Something must be taken. And if you refuse me Dean Winchester's life, what would I have left to take?"

This was a riddle. Azrael was quite fond of things like these, or so it had been said because none of the other angels actually ever spent time with their brother and his riddles or his books to know any better. So he required an exchange of life essence? This was a simple thing to give.

"Two decades."

A fine eyebrow lifted, "Pardon?"

"I'll give you two of my decades in exchange for two of his."

"You're giving me 20 years of your mortal life so he may be given 20 in exchange?"

The steadfastness of Castiel's devotion was unwavering and the angel of death actually marveled at it. Angels were never meant to be this devoted to a single human. In fact, this kind of pious reverence was designed only for God. Yet there was his brother, breaking the mold and standing as a blaring sign for the free will only man was granted.

Now wasn't that interesting? Even with his grace still clinging to the edges of his being, Castiel managed to become more human than some of those who fell for it. Azrael shifted then, making a very clear distinction in his mind that Castiel was not a fallen. Yes, he rebelled and, yes, he had done many things which were grievous against the host, but he was not a fallen. He was simply… misplaced. Perhaps even reassigned as God himself had resurrected his younger brother and given him to the human who was moments away from death.

"And when the time comes, I will take his soul home."

This caught the archangel by surprise. Azrael was tempted to make a comment about how haughtily it was of Castiel to assume he was welcomed back to the host but by the pause, he could tell there was more to be said.

"Even... if I am not allowed to enter, I will carry his soul to the gates myself. He is my charge, I cannot allow anyone else this duty."

And there was the possessive again. Me. My. Mine.

"He is human, Castiel. He will probably break you." No one wanted to see their family get hurt, least of all Azrael.

"That's my concern, not yours." Resolute, as always.

Azrael smiled, Oh Castiel... the most human of all the angels. Glancing up towards the heavenly realm, one of the oldest angels in existence paused to consider the situation carefully. On one end, there was his orders: Dean Winchester had exactly three heartbeats left, then he was to be carried to his rightful place amongst the exalted in the heavenly fields. On the other hand, and this had Azrael turning from the angels to the man, Dean Winchester wasn't entirely Dean Winchester anymore. To be perfectly clear, Dean Winchester was Dean Winchester fused with Castiel's grace- the evidence of this was singeing the edges of his soul and permanently harboring a perfect handprint over one shoulder, which made him something else entirely.

With a wave of one hand, Azrael stepped out of the fray and his brother quickly followed.

One beat.

Castiel was turning to him, eyes slightly frantic as he watched Dean struggle in Sam's arms.

Two beat.

The ghost of a name was stuck on Dean's tongue but it never made it past his lips before his body began to still.

Three beat.

"Azrael!" There was rage in his younger brother, fists balled and body tense to fight.

Done.

Castiel suddenly dropped to the ground and doubled over as Dean, in a rather violent and ungraceful jerking motion, sat up and breathed deeply with his hands clenched against his chest. He probably felt like he was on fire as Castiel's grace was ripped out of the former angel and shoved into the man, encasing his lungs and heart with fine threads of light, forcing them to work as they infused themselves into his body.

Dean Winchester had already been to the fields of heaven, that part of his mission had been executed before. Now, Dean Winchester experienced his last three heartbeats and was currently living on Castiel's. These were Castiel's heartbeats in his chest, borrowed time, borrowed life...

And as for his rightful place, well...

Glancing down at the floor, the angel of death noticed his brother had stopped convulsing long enough to half sit up and look at him. Dean's rightful place was here, surrounded by those he considered exalted.

Castiel was undoubtedly in pain but there was something else stirring in his eyes: gratitude. Rarely did Azrael ever see the look of gratitude directed at him. It touched him, a spark of something flaring up in his grace that he dare not examine unless he too were to go down this same path of ruin. Feelings were unacceptable for any angel but gifts. Well, he could still cherish something he didn't understand.

"You're linked." He explained while pulling a hood over his head, "His mortal life ends when yours does so be mindful to not waste the 20 years I have bestowed upon you both." There was the hint of humor quirking at the edges of Azrael's lips before he simply blinked out of existence.

Castiel may not have earnestly recognized all the emotions he was feeling as he gazed upon his charge but Azrael did. Not because he had ever really felt them, not personally, but because he had seen that look thousands upon thousands of times. The very same fidelity and desperate pleading which was reserved for only the most connected of souls, the ones that had been initially once piece broke into two bodies. Curious that an angel and a human would find that kind of bond. But their father really did work in mysterious ways, and who was he to disrupt such an fascinatingly amorous union?

After all, his orders had already been fulfilled so he could take his time coming back for them. Maybe if they got lucky, he'd miraculously forget how to count in human time and mistakenly give them an additional 20, just to make sure they get things right.

Azrael felt something akin to bemusement bubble up inside him as he made his way back to the great book where Dean Winchester's name was being erased and Destiel Winchester's was being written. You know, just for good measure.

~*~

"What the hell was that?" Sam was searching Dean like he had lost his last bus quarter in the tattered shirt.

Dean, on the other hand, was swatting Sam's hands away each time they prodded over a spot where a bullet wound had been. "Hell if I know." Green eyes turned haphazardly to the former angel who was looking like he had eaten a turned breakfast burrito 30 minutes ago. "But I'm beginning to feel like death's disregarded ex. I don't think she likes me so much. You okay Cas?"

"He likes you just fine."

The brothers blinked in unison, but no one seemed to notice these things except Castiel.

"Excuse me?" Sam's brow furrowed in a very 'Sam Winchester, once again, doesn't understand you' sort of way. Castiel resigned himself to working on that.

"Azrael, archangel of death. He likes you just fine. He just gave you 20 more years." Conveniently, Cas was leaving out the part where those 20 belonged to him. Omitting information was technically not lying.

"Oh well... let's send him a bunch of roses and fruit basket and what the hell is wrong with you? Not that I'm ungrateful but did you make a deal or something, Cas?" Leave it to Dean to be annoyed at more life. Or at least the person who got him said life.

"No." Okay so that was an outright lie, "Yes." He spouted almost involuntarily with an eye roll, "Let's go." Really, he was going to have to learn to lie and stick with it someday. This lying then feeling bad and immediately telling the truth thing just wasn't working out for him. Especially around the Winchesters who knew exactly how to take advantage of it.

"Hold up! What kind of deal are we talking here?" Dean was rising to his feet, good as new which was kind of awkward for someone who had several bullet holes in their chest just a minute ago. Sam scrambled to catch up, rising just a quickly and trailing after his older brother who was trailing after his angel. "Cas?!"

"A benevolent one."

"Define benevolent!"

Sam could feel a pattern forming here and he half hoped he was wrong. Half hoped because somewhere in the back of his mind he also half hoped he was right.

"Intending or showing kindness."

"Cas!"

"It's not of consequence."

Oh Castiel. Someone was going to have to teach him to lie better than that, but at least his sense of humor was starting to shine through.

"What do you mean 'not of consequence? Cas?"

Yeah... probably teaching him to lie sooner than later would be good because ignoring Dean wasn't going to work. Sam rubbed at his face and glanced back at they scene they had just left and, for a moment, he could have sworn he saw two sets of wing imprints burned into the ground. Turning back, he watched his brother chasing the former angel down the street towards the impala, and Sam took a deep breath and resolved to following them. Not just to the impala but... for a while after because something told him like a faintly foreign whisper at the back of his mind that they were going to need all the help they could get.

"CAS!"

~Fin~