When Dean wakes up, the migraine that explodes through his head makes him think of his police academy days.

He sits up slowly, surprised to see blood pooled around him for a moment, before the memories come flooding back.

Lilith. The Colt. Being possessed.

The tinkling of broken glass brings Dean out of his memories. Castiel kneels down beside him, smiling. His trench coat, which Dean realizes he's never seen Castiel without, is bloodstained and torn, but he looks otherwise unharmed.

"Uh, thank you. For, you know, that." Dean's not good at expressing anything past anger, frustration and smart-ass remarks, but he's obviously trying his hardest.

It makes Castiel laugh, a genuine laugh that Dean's never heard before. "No problem."

Uriel bobs to the top of the pool, coughing up water. His skin is covered in faint red markings that Castiel recognizes at once: they're the same marks that bind him to his mortal body.

"Human, Uriel? You don't deserve to be human."

The angel steps out of the pool, Castiel's blade in his hand. "You want revenge, Castiel? Is that what you're thinking right now? Do it." He hands Castiel his blade. "Do it. Kill me now. End my life! Go on, be the hand of our Father! It's your choice, it's always been your choice!"

Castiel takes back his blade and grins. "Yes." He pulls back his arm as if to stab Uriel.

But instead of a strike to the former angel's heart, he gets a punch in the face instead.

"That's called pain. Get used to it." Castiel walks out of the room, grabbing Uriel's blade from the floor where it had fallen. Dean follows him without so much as blinking at Uriel.

"You could have killed me, Castiel! You chose a higher path!"

Castiel just laughs again.

Dean rubs a hand across his face as he stares at Becky's grave.

Castiel gently puts the latest Supernatural novel and his chunky lighter beside her gravestone and wanders over, arms limp at his sides. Dean's not quite gotten all the fine tunings of Castiel's expressions down, but he can still see the way his fists clench and his eyes glaze over.

"What the fuck are those books even about?"

"Oh, two brothers named Sam and Dean, and their adventures trying to stop the Apocalypse in their classic car."

Dean freezes. "Sam and Dean?"

"Yes. Chuck has psychic visions of alternate universes, I believe. If you're interested, Becky wrote some interesting pieces inspired by the novels."

"What the hell?"

"Of course, mostly they're just stories of the brother having kinky incestuous sex, but you're more than welcome to read them. She emailed me copies of every piece she wrote."

Dean grimaces as he stares up at the night sky. "I'll pass."

"Are you sure? If you aren't interested in incest with your younger brother, there are plenty where you and an angel named Castiel are together." Castiel watches Dean blanch, and he laughs.

Castiel stuffs a piece of gum in his mouth as he heads towards the Impala, the nicotine replacement patch making his shoulder itch where it was pressed to his skin.

"You look like a hobo in that stupid trench coat!" Dean's reduced to childish shouting, but it's all in good fun as he chases after Castiel.

"Lucifer restored my Grace, Dean, I'd be careful what I said to an angel of the Lord."

"You know what, Cas?" Dean slams the car door as he clambers into the Impala.

"What, Dean?"

"Don't ever change."

Author's Note: So, that's all for now, folks. Thank you for all of your lovely comments, favourites and follows... If you want more, I have a tumblr at corpseonthestairs . tumblr. com, and I post writing and art there, too. /end shameless self-promotion.