Hey guys! I know this was still later than expected, and I apologize. Thank you for all the kind reviews and favorites.

Special thanks to Darkphoenix2345, Silmarilfan1, Castiel52, Gustin, and Dead-Knight-of-Darkness for the reviews. That was sexy of you. I hope you all had an awesome Christmas. I didn't find a naked Misha in any of the boxes, so I am moderately disappointed.

-Paperganstah

"Into the Fire"

There is peace in dreams. Anything can happen before reality creeps in again. Something magnificent happens and morning burns it into memory. It is one thing to remember. What is changed when we look back? What is lost from the feeling of the moment and the hasty recollection drawn from something that fades as soon as it happens?

Dean Winchester forgot Castiel. He forgot those deep blue eyes and gentle smiles. Dean no longer pretended to slay monsters when his guns found real targets. Stories of adventure were better bound up in musty pages. He made up his own stories to take him out of the world he was in. Sam left him and Dean told himself his bitch of a brother would come back. He told himself that John would gank that demon and they would be a family again. He no longer cared if it was called lying or dreaming. Whatever it was, it sure as hell beat reality.

Some nights he let himself sink into the truth. He would be alone, sitting on the front of the Impala or tucked under a gaudy motel blanket. It hurt but it felt clean. The pain was something real for Dean and he rarely indulged in if fully.

Sam returned to him. He was unwilling at first but Jess had been his last chance. Dean would smile at him and pretend for a while that his brother was there because he wanted to be. He told himself he wasn't Sam's fall back plan. Old yellow eyes took John to the grave and followed him soon after. For a while the Winchesters stood in the field missing Mary's smile. Their past lay trapped in photographs and their future stood exposed in front of them. Dean lost the ability to hope that night. John lay on a funeral pyre as flames crawled across his handsome face. Dean felt a numbness crawl through his body.

.

"Castiel. What should we do now?" Castiel squinted at Samandriel for a moment.

"We wait for our orders."

The garrison sat huddled near the gate. He wished Anna was there. She used to know what to do even before the orders were given. Cas remembered how lost he felt when they told him. She fell. He thought about following her into the human realm. He thought about giving up his powers. But for what point? All he ever wanted was Dean and the boy no longer knew his name.

Uriel sat in the grass as he toyed with his blade. It glinted brightly in his dark hands. "Would you like me to seek revelation, brother?"

Castiel shook his head. "When they are ready, they will tell us." Blind faith. That was all he had now. He chose to follow his orders to the best of his ability. God could read between the lines.

"I have never been in a real battle before." Inias was worried. It was evident in his voice. He and Samandriel had the task of rewriting ancient tomes in the dusty halls of the Vatican in the guise of priests. Now that something was killing angels, they were called out. They shouldn't be there.

Castiel placed a hand on his shoulder. "You will learn."

It started to rain. Fat drops of rain pushed down their brooding shoulders. Castiel's eyes narrowed in concentration when a light buzzing hummed in his ears. He took his leave of the garrison and stood by an old oak tree; light spilling over him. The rest of the angels stood proudly in an alcove of large, gray stone.

"He really is beautiful."

Balthazar nodded with a smile. "Our Cassie sure is something different."

"Careful, that is what they said about Lucifer."

Uriel glowered. "Do not say his name, Hester, not when we are so close to him."

"It is a miracle that he turned out so well. We almost lost him to that unhealthy Winchester obsession of his."

"The Winchesters? He was their guardian angel?" Samandriel looked in awe over at where Castiel stood.

Hester nodded. "Yes. He did well for one so young."

"That's not what I heard. He got a little too close to his charges." Uriel looked smug.

Samandriel and Inias shared quizzical looks. "What do you mean?"

"He fell in love with a human. When they promoted him to Seraph he asked to stay with that bow-legged brat instead."

"Dean Winchester? The one we are freeing from damnation?"

"Yes." A shadow of wings fell across the garrison. The younger angels jumped. Castiel gazed at the others through narrowed eyes, as if studying them. "He is of importance to all of us." He gave Uriel a piercing stare.

Samandriel had always admired Castiel. He was beautiful and just; the way God would want his angels to be. There was sadness in him that lent him a strength the others could not understand. He was not cruel but he did not smile. He was blunt with his words but they were truthful. He had lost much. That was evident. Many angels had not the opportunity to care enough about something to lose it.

Now Samandriel understood why Castiel was the strange outsider in their network of brothers and sisters. He gave away a piece of his heart and in return it was patched with something human. It was like an infection. Pain stiffened in his shoulders. It weighed down his once light wings and something dark crept into the veins that ran under his white feathers. Samandriel could understand what Castiel loved in humanity when he saw what it did to Castiel. It made him fragile at times. It also made him aware of the plights of others. They were all afraid to descend into hell. But it seemed Castiel would always pay a greater price for his understanding of the cost.

"What are our orders?" The angels surrounded Castiel with their questions.

Castiel sighed as he slipped the silver blade into his hand. "It is time to fight. Our orders are to get to Dean Winchester and return him, body and soul, to earth. We will lay siege to hell. I do not expect all of us to return." His eyes shifted momentarily to the less experienced angels and he saw fear in their eyes. "If you do not, I thank you for your service."

The words sounded scripted. It was then he saw Balthazar clap his hand on Innias' shoulder in a sign of comfort. He felt compassion well in that rotten human piece of his heart. It ached for the angels that had no other thought than the orders drilled into their heads.

"If you do not wish to fight, please do not. I want you to think about this. We have been told that Dean Winchester will save us all. We have been told that many of us will die for others to live. What would you leave behind?"

Many of the angels did not understand. What would they leave behind? Troubled they waited for Castiel to lead them to the right answer. Hester blinked her eyes at Castiel in confusion and saw that others looked for answers too. They did not know how to think for themselves.

"Think about what you would give for the completion of this mission. I will give Heaven away for Dean Winchester." A gasp went through the crowd.

"He's mad." Rachel whispered.

Castiel glanced at her. "Do it for God if you wish. If you have nothing to fight for there is no reason to fight alongside me."

"I have told the Council about your insanity, brother. And still they insisted you head this mission. You go ahead and fight for your sanity in the underbelly of the world. I serve God, not a pig filthy human like Dean Winchester." Uriel was off with a quiet rustle of wings.

Castiel almost looked amused. He watched a few more angels followed Uriel. Some were unsure. They had never been given a choice before.

"I am assuming the rest of you are with me?"

"Why Dean Winchester? What is so important about a human that we go to hell for his sake?" A smile ghosted across Castiel's face and the angels were in awe of the creature he had become. A feeling, bleeding thing, and yet he was stronger than them.

"I have been told he will save us. I have not been told how; but I believe it. I have faith in him above all others."

Castiel swiftly severed the ulnar artery in his arm and spread the red blood across the stone. Wind ruffled passed his hair and the ground shifted beneath his feet. The stone began to chip away until a large gash lay in its stead. Castiel surged forward. The angels stood for a moment as the head of their garrison disappeared.

"Well are you all going to stand there like bloody idiots? If anyone can get us in and out of here, it's our Cassie." Balthazar followed his friend and most of the curious angels did as well.

"Cassie! We're here! Some of the dicks decided to hang back."

Castiel glanced back at his brother and nodded. "Good. It means they learned something."

"Those Winchesters sure turned you into a strange one. Not that you weren't before." He clasped his hand onto Castiel's shoulder. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"I don't. I am planning on making it up as I go."

Balthazar shook his head with a smile. "That boy better be worth it."

Castiel played with his sleeve nervously, no longer the cool headed leader. He took in a deep breath and nodded. "He is."

.

Dean had been a rather sensitive child. Not everyone saw it that way as his feelings often manifested themselves in displays of anger. But if he really loved something; damned if he didn't love it with his whole heart. Of course he loved little Sammy. He raised the kid. He was used to failure. Dean had a tendency to assume everything was his fault. His father leaving? His fault. Sammy's death? Dean sought out the burden of guilt to settle on his own shoulders.

When Dean got into one of those moods and sickened himself on a diet of alcohol and despair Bobby told him stories. Sam lay dead and unburied on the hunter's bed and Dean sat next to him. His blood burned warm with poison and the glass sat cold and empty. Bobby had forced him into his arms as the younger man fought. He threw useless punches as he was painfully wrestled to the ground. He broke down then. A grown man with the heart of a child. Bobby held him as the sobs subsided.

"You know, most kids lie to get out of getting' in trouble. You still take on other's crap and call it your own."

"Don't tell me this isn't my damn fault. I had one job. Remember where he got so sick when I left the window open? I wasn't ever going to let that bitch get so much as a scratch again."

Bobby pulled Dean back down as he tried to pull free. "Shut up ya idgit. You've always been a good kid and I wish that John had the balls to tell you that more often."

"I fucked up Bobby." The tears returned in his throat but he held them back.

"You did what you could. You can't control everything. Remember that owl of yours?"

Dean barked out a hollow laugh. "What? What does a dumb bird have to do with anything?"

"Your mamma had just died the year before and you were just little, Sam had just started walking. I don't know what all shenanigans you got up to with John hunting all the time. You found the poor critter bleeding in a gutter and patched it up. I don't know how long you had it before it escaped."

Dean sat up and brushed a hand across his puffy eyes. "I remember that. A little white thing. I-I tried to fix it up. Sammy and I dug up some worms for it but it didn't eat 'em. I made a bed for it in the top dresser drawer. It started to get better too. I read stories to Sammy and the bird looked like it was listening."

Dean remembered but he felt like it was out of someone else's head. The pieces were fuzzy. He closed his eyes and felt ruffled white feathers under his fingers. He felt his breathing calm down. His brain stuttered into darkness.

The man raised his head warily and it was no longer feathers between his fingers but his own hot blood. Chains were sewn throughout his flesh and his throat burned, the screaming trapped in his throat. He clawed at his own destroyed flesh. Screams started near him as another poor soul was dragged onto the rack.

Alistair's nasally voice pierced the thick air. "Dean, Dean, Dean. Sleeping again?" Dean tried to speak but blood welled ahead of the words. His eyes widened at the razor in the demon's hand. "I am here to give you an offer once more. Take this blade and do the job for me. It's you or the bitch. Cut into her and I will leave your precious skin alone."

"Fuck off!" Dean sprayed blood from his mouth as he coughed. He felt the razor sink into the soft skin of his stomach. The feeling never got used to it. Alistair would empty his innards every day for years and still Dean howled with pain. He heard a fluttering of wings in his head as he tried desperately to escape into his mind once more. He thought of white feathers and a warm body in his arms. The demon drove in deeper and Dean snapped.

"Alright I'll do it! I'll do it." Dean shut off the part of his brain that clung onto memories just out of his reach. Something had been missing in there a long time and Dean was done trying to fill in the gaps. The razor was soothingly cold against his palm. He heard the chains clink as they coiled about his feet.

"Give me the damn blade."

.