Castiel has never felt more human than when he is in the Impala.

Really, he doesn't even mind being confined to the back seat all that much anymore; he enjoys watching the endless stretch of the side of the empty highway blur past him. He memorizes the name of every town, big and small, that they pass through. He counts every crack in the pavement leading to the greasy diner in Peoria, Illinois. He recalls that Dean has played that one Led Zeppelin track nearly thirteen times on this trip alone, and that Sam has grown quite tired of hearing it. Castiel doesn't mind it so much.

Sometimes when the weather is warm Dean will opt to roll down his window for fresh air, resting his left elbow in the opening. When this happens, Castiel silently shifts from the center of the back seat to the side behind the driver's seat and presses his temple to the backseat window, reveling in the way the wind whips through his hair. He lets his eyes flutter shut and listens to the chirping of a bird miles away, the slice of a windmill blade cutting through the air, the rhythm of the song of choice rumbling through the car.

He takes in the scent of the Impala that is so hard to describe other than Sam and Dean Winchester, and in this particular case as they pass through a small town affectionately named Strawberry Village, the smell of ozone right before a warm summer storm. The light that shimmers through the broken rain clouds envelops the interior of the car with golden warmth; and though Castiel does not sleep nor dream, he feels as though he could drift off and away at any moment. Or at least, what he thinks that might feel like.

Dean complains that he is starving and stiff and seriously he has this damn horrible crook in his neck, and Sam nods in agreement and claims severe boredom; but Castiel, in all his millennia of existence, has never felt more at peace –nor more alive—than in this car. Even as a soldier of Heaven, as a mighty warrior of God, Castiel feels so small here. The distance from one motel to the next even feels impossibly endless – Castiel finds so much information to soak in while gazing out of both windows. He feels tiny, and unimportant, and so insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

And he likes that.

When they pull in to a motel for the night, Castiel feels that familiar pang of disappointment that the day is over, his time in the Impala is done. While the brothers sleep uncomfortably in their cheap motel beds, the ever sleepless Castiel stays dormant and watches over the brothers, making sure that no harm comes to them while they dream. Occasionally, he wishes he was able to dream, not merely be able to visit the dreams of others and wade through them like it was just another place on Earth and not a completely different plane of existence, but when he finds a particular dream that he likes he can sometimes pretend it is his as well.

Sam dreams of days long gone. He dreams of Jess, of law school and how his life could have been different. Dean would be upset knowing that Sam still dreams about it, but Sam seems the most relaxed and at peace with these than when he dreams of Ruby, Jess' death, of betrayal and demon blood and letting Dean down.

Castiel feels a pang of sadness to see that, once again, Dean his dreaming of Hell. He turns fitfully in his sleep and dreams of torturing souls and being so terrified of how he enjoyed it so greatly. Castiel usually ends his internal suffering with a touch to the forehead and allows Dean to sleep dreamless, but sometimes he feels as though Dean needs to dream of Hell. He needs to remember what he did, how he suffered. He needs to always carry that burden with him and Castiel knows he is the same with his own personal demons, so instead he stays put and waits for sunrise.

He prays the Winchester brothers will have better dreams tomorrow.

Over a double stack of silver dollar pancakes the next morning in a cozy window booth at the local greasy diner, Dean is carefully perusing through the statewide newspaper looking for anything that would be worth checking out. For the sixth day in a row he seems to come up with nothing, zip, zero. Sam has his laptop sitting next to his coffee and omelet, hoping the internet may smile upon him today and give him better luck.

"God dammit I'm bored," Dean huffs, throwing the paper over to Castiel. Castiel picks it up with a grateful smile; Dean knows he likes trying his hand at the crossword puzzles, even though most clues were pop culture references that he didn't understand and ended up bugging the brothers for answers in the end.

"You know we haven't had a case in over a month," the older brother continues as he stuffs his mouth with pancakes.

Sam sighs and closes his laptop, having dug up no potential cases of his own.

Castiel eyes the crossword puzzle with intent, electing not to tell them about the ghost of a scorned bride haunting a honeymoon suite three states over, or the group of vampires running amok close by to that. The angel had tried to help the brothers find cases before, but Dean told him to can it because he didn't need help and they'd been able to find cases perfectly fine before the Castiel's feathery ass had shown up and started teleporting him everywhere. That shit seriously messed with his digestive system.

Castiel wondered if now Dean might take his help, but he keeps it to himself and tilts his head at a particular clue.

"Who sings 'Hit Me Baby One More Time'?"

"Britney Spears," Dean mutters behind a mouthful of food. "Pretty sure that video defined the early part of my adulthood," he says as a grin spreads across his face, fondly remembering the perky blonde girl in a sexy schoolgirl outfit.

"Why does she want someone to hit her?" Castiel asks with genuine concern as he began writing the answer in the boxes.

"It's an expression. And don't ask what for," Dean answers as he turns back to Sam. "There has to be something going on for us to look in to. If I've learned anything in my life it's that quiet towns are never that quiet at all, and if I don't find something to salt and burn soon I think I might lose it."

Castiel nonchalantly picks up a piece of toast from Dean's plate, his eyes never leaving the crossword as he takes a bite. He doesn't need to eat and never has, but sometimes he finds himself eating solely for the wonderful taste—a quality he learned from Dean. Said hunter follows his toast with an annoyed expression that Castiel ignores as he asks, "Troubled actress, Lohan?"

"Lindsay," Sam says absentmindedly, taking another sip of his coffee. Dean gives him a look. "Perhaps we'll find a case in the next state," he says, getting back on the subject. "We can hit the road after breakfast."

"I'm sick of being on the road, my ass is sore," Dean replies, wincing.

Castiel is about to ask the name of the leading actor in Dr. Sexy M.D. when he feels it.

It's the feeling of being watched, being hunted, and it makes the hairs stand up on the back of Castiel's neck. It's the feeling that prey gets right before the predator is about to pounce. Castiel drops the toast on to the newspaper, alarmed. He hears the low hum of enormous energy surrounding him and the feeling suddenly swells in to a tidal wave of the ominous feeling, crashing down on him. And he knows exactly what the cause is.

Dean notices the sudden change in demeanor. "Cas?"

He stops when he notices the alarm in Castiel's eyes, wide with words he isn't saying to Dean, but that Dean understands anyways.

Trouble.

He slowly reaches in to his jacket and begins pulling out Ruby's knife, giving Sam a knowing look that the younger brother quickly understands. But when he sees Castiel slice his forearm with his steak knife as discreetly as possible and begin to use the blood to form the symbols on the table Dean knows all too well, he quickly realizes Ruby's knife will not be nearly enough.

Castiel only gets half way through hastily drawing the banishing sigil when he feels the ominous presence go silent, and he tenses.

The Winchesters barely have enough time to duck when Castiel suddenly cries, "Get down!" before not only the window next to them, but all the windows in the whole building are blown out.

Dean is knocked out of the booth and lands in a heap of shattered glass that digs in his skin and makes him groan in pain. Panic and chaos in the diner fills his ears as people scream and rush the exit. Sam is beneath the table, trying to find his bearings and looking at Dean in panic.

They hear the sound of glass crunching beneath shoes as they look up and see a tall, brutish looking man with a hard jaw and slicked back hair, a cruel look in his eyes as he stares down at them. He's dressed in a dark navy suit and has the toothiest sneer Dean has ever laid witness to. Two men stand behind him, and Dean's blood goes icy.

The man on the table looks to both Sam and Dean as if studying them, a smile forming on his lips before his gaze drops down to Castiel, just having noticed him still in the booth, and his smile drops.

"Still causing trouble, I see," he drawls, his voice harsh and raspy.

Castiel's eyes widen further and he visibly tenses, his hand still hovering over the half finished sigil.

"Ambriel."

The angel sneers at him, eyeing the sigil with an unimpressed laugh. "Is that kind of violence really necessary?"

Castiel swallows hard and Dean can see with much clarity that Castiel is… scared. Terrified.

Well, this can't end well at all.

Ambriel shoots his hand out to clasp around Castiel's throat, lifting him with great ease right out of the seat and holding him so high that his feet dangle above the table. Castiel only makes one grunt and grabs on to the other angel's hand around his throat before going silent.

Dean recalls the Enochian sigils engraved in his ribs, staring incredulously at the angel. "How did you—"

"Find you?" Ambriel smirks at him, then at Castiel. "You may be hidden from me, Dean Winchester, but my dear little brother Castiel here is far from it, though not without trying." His grip tightens a little more around Castiel's neck. "And where you go, I know Castiel follows right behind like the good little pet he is."

"Dean," Castiel chokes out, his eyes locking with the hunter. "You should run."

Sam's terrified gaze searches out Dean's as he moves next to him, but the elder brother clenches his jaw and shakes his head. "No, Cas. I'm not leaving you here to be manhandled by a dick with wings and his backup dancers."

"Dean," Castiel says more harshly, struggling to get the word out, still dangling in the air. "They aren't here for me."

The angel gives Castiel a somewhat thoughtful look. "Always so intuitive." He flashes Castiel a toothy grin before lifting him higher and slamming the angel down on to the glass-ridden table on his back. Ambriel immediately places his shoes on to Castiel's cheek, pushing his face to the side and down in to the table.

Castiel flashes his eyes to Dean in a wide-eyed look that screams Run, run I'll hold them off, but Dean can't find the energy in him to move, to leave Castiel behind.

"You know what I have never liked about you, brother?" Ambriel questions menacingly, brushing a few shards of glass from his shoulder. He motions for his lackeys to move forward and Dean's heart skips a beat. He glances around frantically searching for something that might help him. Something that might help Cas. Castiel tried to grab at the offending foot as best he could and throw Ambriel off of him with no success.

"You always seemed to have too much…" he continues, searching for the right word before his features darken and he spits, "sympathy." He nods to Sam and Dean. "Grab the brothers; I will take care of the pest."

Dean's breath catches in his throat as he watches the two angels lunge for them, just as Ambriel was pulling an angel blade from up his sleeve. He is tackled on to the floor by one angel and can tell from the tell tale grunt his brother made that Sam has been too. Soon the angel has him in a choke hold, turning him at the right angle to see Castiel pinned as Ambriel hunches over with the blade at his throat.

"Cas—" Dean starts, but is silenced when the angel holding him tightens his arm around his neck.

"Watch, Dean Winchester, as I put your precious pet out of its misery," Ambriel mocks, bringing his arm up to strike, and Castiel closes his eyes in anticipation of the impact.

"Wait," Dean voice cracks as he pleas. Ambriel pauses to glance at him. Dean breathes heavily, his chest rising and falling in quick succession as he tries to find the words to say. "Let them go and you can have me."

Ambriel tosses his head back to laugh, amused. "Arrogant as always, Winchester, but unfortunately you have nothing to barter with. Our decision has been made." Dean bristles as he sees the angel push down with more pressure on his foot, right on to Cas.

"But you're here for us," Dean replies. "And that means you need something. You angels always need something."

Ambriel seems to contemplate this. "It's true that I require something of the Winchester brothers, but you have made it quite clear that you aren't going to play along," Ambriel says. Sam and Dean both clench their jaws.

"You want Dean and I to say yes to Lucifer and Michael," Sam says, his eyes dark.

"Which ain't gonna happen, dickbag," Dean adds, his eyes not leaving Cas.

"Exactly," Ambriel says to both of them, tossing the angel blade in his hand, Castiel still immobile beneath him. Castiel's eyes are still clenched shut, and it looks as if he's concentrating incredibly hard on something. Dean sees his fist clench.

"You've made this very difficult, much more difficult than it needs to be. But after witnessing the way you vehemently refuse to accept your roles, we have decided to pursue a different route." Looking up, he nods to the angel holding Dean down.

The angel nods in reply and Dean draws in a sharp breath when he feels his forearm being sliced open and tries to jerk away. Sam struggles against the angel forcing him still and calls to his older brother when he sees what is happening.

Dean watches as his blood drips on to the floor in heavy droplets, trying not to wince at the pain as the angel squeezes his forearm to increase the blood flow. He attempts to wrench free of the arms but the angel barely budges.

"What are you going to do to us?" Sam asks, attempting to mask his frightened voice, attempting to appear fearless.

Ambriel smiles at them and glances down at Castiel, who is now mouthing something to himself. "Now what could you be up to, brother?"

Castiel starts whispering in a language that sounds like gibberish to Dean. Ambriel maliciously grabs Castiel's throat and twist a hand in his hair, jerking his head back. "Open your eyes Castiel. I want you to watch." He gives Castiel's head a good jerk and the angel obeys, opening his eyes to see the brothers detained.

"Plapli oi hami," Ambriel begins, chanting harshly in that same gibberish Cas was whispering earlier, "…od nenni iadpil noromi niiso."

Castiel's eyes widen, shocked. "No, Ambriel, you can't—"

"Believe me Castiel, despite all your flaws you will come to understand that this is what is best. For us. For the world."

Castiel shakes his head frantically. "No, this is unstable, it won't work, and you'll rip apart this very—"

Ambriel glares down at him and firmly grasps the angel blade in his hand as he slowly begins pushing it in to Castiel's chest. Castiel cries out in agony, searing pain flooding through him, through his vessel, through is very essence. A bright white light begins to shine from the pierced flesh around the blade.

"Cas!" Dean bellows, struggling even harder.

"Noromi oi oiad noalnnoasmi oali niiso," Ambriel continues chanting, nodding to the angel holding Sam, who quickly slices his arm open as well, the blood flowing like gravity was pulling it to the center to meet Dean's. Dean watches in horror as the blood begins to form symbols on the ground, and those symbols begin to glow.

Castiel continues to grit his teeth in pain, both of his hands pulling against Ambriel's as it keeps slowly plunging the blade further in to him. He begins shouting his own incantation in desperation now, competing with Ambriel's voice.

There is a rumble that starts to sound, and the room begins to shake. Slowly at first, but it quickly grows as Ambriel presses on with his words.

"Plapli iadpil olani oiad olani mad ol od bogpa." The other angels had joined in with the chanting and the sigils drawn in blood start sinking in to the floor.

"Your incantation is weak, Castiel," Ambriel huffs, out of breath from the concentration. "You have grown rusty."

Castiel's eyes start to glow; his mouth as well, still open in pain.

"Iadpil od oiad gemeganza, iadpil od oiad gemeganza," Ambriel repeats over and over as the glow from the sigils start to grow brighter, brighter until it is almost enveloping them and something akin to a very loud cracking sound is emitted from it. The brothers watch, horrified, as a large crack begins spreading across the floor.

"The hell—" Dean manages to choke out before losing his voice. Ambriel shouts his incantation one last time, and finally the growing crack comes to a halt, a groan and screech coming out of it at the same time. He also hears whispers rising up from it. The shaking in the room had only grown.

Dean turns to Castiel, whose eyes, mouth and chest wound are glowing brightly now. He calls his name in a desperate voice, but the plea is lost in the rumbling.

The angel grappling Dean clenches his hand around his throat and lifts him up as the other angel does the same to the younger Winchester. Dean calls out weakly to his younger brother, instinctively wanting to tell him it'd be alright, and not to worry Sammy, he'd get them out of this mess, just like he always does. The angels hold them dangling right over the shrieking crack and Dean pulls at their constricting hands.

"You have caused enough trouble for us," Ambriel sneers, his booming voice rising above all of the chaos filling the diner. "So you will sit down there like good little boys, and you will wait for us to retrieve you when we are ready for you." Dean twists and writhes in the angel's grasp. "You will no longer cause trouble, no longer get in the way. You will play along."

Dean tries to reach out, grab Sam's shoulder, but he is out of reach.

"And you will obey."

With that, the angel holding Sam releases him, and the younger Winchester is sent falling through the crack, making one last grab for Dean's hand but their fingers only barely brushed and his hand was enveloped in the light.

"Sammy!" Dean screams after him, feeling the crack starting to pull at his feet. He takes one final glance at Castiel, his devastated gaze meeting the blank stare coming from the angel's lit up eyes. His face is filled with terror as he realizes that this time Cas isn't going to save him. No last minute miracles, no wave of a hand or snap of the fingers.

He closes his eyes, bracing himself.

"Cas—"

The angel drops him, releasing his vice-like fingers from the hunter's neck, and he falls through, his words cut off by the crack swallowing him whole.

And he's gone.

Dean's voice calling his name finds Castiel's ear even over the rumble and the chaos and, Castiel feels a fire starting to well up inside him, burning at his chest where the blade is almost completely to the hilt. It isn't from the wound, instead from a much deeper within Castiel and he pulls with all of his being at Ambriel's hands, feeling the muscles tearing at the force. Ambriel stares in shock as Castiel pushes against him, hurtling him off with a pained cry. Castiel immediately reaches for the blade, pulling it free from his chest and feeling his Grace slowly seeping out from the wound.

Not much time.

He is on his feet in a heartbeat, sending the blade flying through the air wordlessly and landing it right in the chest of the angel that was holding Dean. The angel cries in anguish before the room bursts with light and the angel falls to the floor, dead.

Castiel stumbles towards him, trying to retrieve the blade even as he felt himself starting to go numb. He knew this kind of pain—a dying pain. He pulls the blade wordlessly out of the dead angel but finds that the other one had vanished from where he was standing.

Coward; a sorry excuse for a mighty soldier of God.

He falls to his knees in front of the crack in the floor. He sees it begin to close and frantically begins reciting Enochian incantations, trying to remember the correct words, the symbols dancing in his head his vision starts to become blurry.

Suddenly a hand is grabbing the back of his neck and he is wrenched backwards, another hand gripping the wrist on the hand that is holding the blade. He struggles to keep the blade out of reach, but the pain in his wrist causes him to drop the weapon, and it falls to the floor close to the edge of the crack. Ambriel makes a grab for it, but Castiel kicks it over the edge of the crack and it disappears, causing the attacking angel to roar in anger and rage.

"You are dying, Castiel! It is time to give up this delusional fantasy of yours!" he hisses in Castiel's ear, as the latter's eyes started to become unfocused. He could feel himself slipping.

"No, you're the delusional one Ambriel," Castiel slurs, his entire body immobile now. He pauses to find shallow breaths. "You believe that this is what is best for us, for everything."

"It is!"

"It is what is best for you. It is arrogant and rash and you take this route not thinking… thinking of the consequences," Castiel rasps. "And that is what I have never like about you; you always were so very… selfish."

Ambriel roars again, turning Castiel violently around to face him, his back now facing the tear in the floor. He holds him by the jaw and forces him over the light, the glow surrounding him.

"Look at you," Ambriel growls. "You've fallen so low and yet you still think you're so holy, so righteous. You're full of yourself. You will lose, Castiel. You will lose everything."

He leans in close and hisses in his ear, and Castiel can barely pull his senses together enough to hear him.

"I will make sure of that."

He pushes Castiel away, letting go of his throat and watching as the angel, his entire body limp and the life quickly fading from his eyes, falls wordlessly through the crack.

And Castiel feels it as the light takes him – the all too familiar pull of death.

The alarm clock is beeping so loudly, so obnoxiously, that he almost rolls over to turn it off.

Instead, he curls into the blankets more, trying to block the sunlight that is coming through his blinds and tune out the beeping. He tries to drift back in to sleep, tries to recover the fuzzy remnants of a strange dream that he is already forgetting, but loses the battle when he finally turns his head to eye the alarm clock warily.

Late.

He throws the blankets off of him in a huff, finally slamming his hand down on to the beeping monstrosity and rubs his eyes, yawns, stretches, then yawns again. He rummages around in his dresser for clean clothes—he doesn't much care what kind they are. After pulling a pair of faded, worn jeans and a powder blue knit sweater on, he attempts to flatten his unruly hair in the mirror. No luck, still messy as ever.

He sighs.

Might as well get this day over with, Castiel thinks to himself, and he's very much not ready to deal with anyone today. He briefly wonders if he'll find his parents downstairs or if they'll be absent as usual and he'll have to walk to school. He picks up his school bag, tosses his books and an apple in to it from the pantry before glancing at the lonely house and heading out the door.

Author's Note:

-The Enochian is translated with an online translator so please, please don't take too much of it to heart. I was going to use Latin, having taken four useless years of it, but Angels speak Enochian dammit, and sadly they don't offer Enochian as a course in school. At least not while I was in high school, anyway.

-Ambriel is the Angel of May.

-The title is taken from Matthew 19:14 - "Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God."

-This story is as of yet unbeta'd. Please forgive any mistakes I have overlooked!