It was odd, being dead. Somehow, he'd think that he would be used to the sensation, considering how often it had been happening to him lately. The strange out of body experiences—body being used quite lightly in this case—were almost... appealing. Almost like being human. Something that, as much as he wished he could relate to, was almost completely out of his grasp.

Time was slipping through his fingers like grains of sand in an hourglass, though counting down to what, he hadn't a clue. It didn't feel ominous, though, so much as it felt peaceful, just something to do to pass the time rather than waste it. He was caught in a vacuum seal of tranquility and the wait for whatever was coming wasn't something that was bothering him. In fact, it seemed natural, like the correct thing to do. Stand here aimlessly and wait for the end. Or the beginning. Or whatever.

Though, he couldn't help but let his thoughts stray from the now, from the sea of nothingness that surrounded him but didn't seem to bother him. It was like he had been here before.

Castiel sat down on the ground, letting his legs sprawl before him as he did, getting comfortable. He closed his eyes to the vague lighting around him, his breathing commanding nearly his every movement. In, out, in, out. Shift left, scratch, flatten a wrinkle. The beating of his heart perfectly in sync with everything he did. Everything in this place seemed symbiotic.

It wasn't painful. Not the way it seemed to him, when he killed his brothers. The horror on their faces, the blinding light from their mouth and eyes. It seemed terrifying to him, dying. Even though, once upon a time, dying was the least of his worries. It was so effortless. With a snap of his fingers, Lucifer destroyed Castiel, so effortlessly.

Death, it was easy, he mused to himself. It was life that was hard. Making your life worth more than the orders given to you or the mission a dead man imposed upon you or the revenge that, in the end, would mean absolutely nothing. Making your life bearable with the love and company of others that you loved and enjoyed the company of in return. Making your life the sort of life that you could be proud of and know that after all was said and done, you made your mark.

Did he make his mark? Castiel wasn't sure. For all his effort, for all his futile, pathetic attempts, everything he set out to do was for naught. Lucifer was free, Sam was possessed beyond his ability to cope, and Dean... well, Dean was a completely different story entirely. He was the only person in the sea of nondescript humans that Castiel could possibly even consider to be special. No, that was wrong. All humans, all of them, were special. They were worth saving, worth fighting for. That's what all of this was about wasn't it? His death, Gabriel's death, every death that had come as a price for peace.

There was just something about Dean that he couldn't place his finger on. Something that set him apart from anyone else like him. Probably because there was no one else like him. Not if he searched every planet in every solar system in every galaxy that ever existed, in any time, in any dimension. That, Castiel knew, was a fact. He was the type of man Castiel would always admire, would always strive to be. Someone that knew what was important, that knew how to be honest and ask for help. A man that could be strong when he needed to be, but also knew his limits, knew where to draw the line.

A man that Castiel could go to when he needed someone the most.

It seemed unfair to put the responsibility of the mental and emotional well being of one of God's angels in the hands of a mortal being. But not all mortal beings had the heart of Dean Winchester. Castiel could be honest with himself, especially here, of all places. Here, where his life was moot and his accomplishments meant nothing, especially in the eyes of his Creator. Suddenly, Castiel knew what he was waiting for.

Judgment.

He stood.

Cas straightened his pants and jacket, swept his hair back with one hand and turned swiftly to look at the vast emptiness that stretched around him. The serenity of the place grew less profound, and he raised his arms skyward, closing his eyes, the sound of voices trickling and vanishing around him like wisps of wind. He could hear perfectly the sounds that sent humans reeling, glass breaking, the very earth shaking. Listening quietly, the way a person would listen to a rapturous opera, Castiel allowed the very to permeate him, to grip his heart and his very soul.

"Understood," he said quietly, bringing his hands down to his sides in loose fists. The darkness of the room began to be sucked away before him as he opened his eyes, the light at the end of the tunnel growing smaller and less pronounced with every millisecond. A powerful wind blew through him, freezing him deeply, the chill burrowing straight to his bones. A fire burned within him, the pain so agonizing he wondered if he had felt this before, if he would have remembered his fall from life and his rebirth this vividly.

He thought of Dean, thought of how, somehow, this was all worth it. The pain, the hope, the burst of faith in his Father that overwhelmed his very soul. Life as he knew it could be completely destroyed by the time he returned, the ones he cared for, the ones he loved, the only ones he had ever felt like he could call his friends, might be dead. But he had trust in his mission, in what he was supposed to do. A nagging feeling told him that all was not lost, that he had some part to play in this story yet.

It was all Castiel could do not to let his sense of intense gratitude at his new chance at life overtake his sense of duty. All the things that he could do later, once the world was saved, was an appealing prospect. His last thought as he was thrust to the surface was of Dean's hazel eyes gazing into his own, and he couldn't help but hope that anything his future could be, would have him in it.

AN: This is dedicated to absolutely the most amazing girl I know, who helped me write my very first Supernatural fanfiction. THANK YOU VALERIE.