Castiel Novak met Sam Winchester through a twist of fate, and a sick one at that.

When fire ravaged both of their homes as young boys, Sam was left without a mother and Castiel was left without both parents.

Cas was left on the sidewalk, pried out of his bed by his father only to be dropped outside and made to watch as his father ran back in for his mother and two brothers. When the fire department arrived and no one came out of the house, the realization that he was officially an orphan settled in somewhere in the back of his numb mind.

That was when John Winchester clapped a hand on his shoulder and steered him towards a black impala parked on the curb.

Castiel, named by his religious mother for the angel of thursday, spent most of his life in the backseat of the impala with Sam. They grew up practically like brothers, never far apart. Even in the years where Cas seemed to deaden in response to John's raising, he was always at least a little alive for Sam.

While others found his deadpan staring and obliviousness to pop culture unnerving, Sam saw straight through it to the honest, compassionate brother he'd grown to love more than life itself.

Which made it all the harder when Sam broke away.

Castiel understood why. He even respected and envied Sam for his choice. Yet ultimately when Sam walked away it was Cas that stayed behind with John's rage.

The road was no easy. Castiel became despondent over the years, a soldier to his core. He followed orders without question and closed himself off from the world. He became an excellent hunter, tempered with ice and blood. But he was no John Winchester. Worse, he was no singular being. He couldn't live without direction, so when John went missing Castiel only had one person in the entire world he could turn to.

Sam had trouble adjusting to how much he had changed at first.

For all the things the same, there was just as much different. He met Castiel anew as they traveled, searching. Cas always blamed himself for Jess.

Hell, he blamed himself for everything that went wrong. He just never said so.

They found John, just to lose him again.

Castiel's reaction was one Sam didn't fully understand. It was cold and closed off and muted. Anyone else would swear he didn't care about John at all. But Sam could see through it, like always. To everyone else Cas came across like some wall of thick ice, impenetrable and daunting. But he was pure glass to Sam, fragile and transparent.

So they struggled on, fighting against impossible odds and finding at the end of every day they only had each other. It wasn't a good life. It was bloody and painful and terrifying. But it wasn't a bad one. Even when Sam realized the truth of his mother's death, even when Cas had to face the memories of his own family, it wasn't a bad life.

It was painful, but it was theirs. They took solace in that, and the few nights of laughter like the time Sam watched a determined Bela try to seduce and sway an absolutely oblivious Castiel.

It was always the small things that lessened the pressure.

When the day came that Castiel died, Sam cried.

He did not choke out a few manly tears- he sobbed. He curled up alone with a bottle and let his body be racked with sorrow. Cas had died for him before. He was no stranger to the brink of death, by far. But he was not familiar with Hell- which Sam knew he was in. For every second that ticked by Castiel was in Hell, suffering unimaginable pain. Sam knew that. There was no forgetting it. He struggled with it every second of every day for weeks, months, growing mad.

Then it happened.

Cas returned, showing up on Bobby's doorstep and then Sam's. They hugged, awkward stiff motions that felt for the first time in their lives entirely unnatural. They stared at one another like acquainted strangers, and moved around unsure of one another.

There were questions. Mountains of them. But no book or hunter gossip could answer a single one.

That was why Cas took matters into his own hands.

It was why he called Bobby aside, told Sam to relax for the night, and prepared his reckless idea. It was dangerous, but as he reminded Bobby repeatedly they had little other choices. All he wanted was for Sam to be clear of the danger.

So they found the old shack on their own and got ready with what they could, all manner of weapons and traps laid out. Bobby chanted. Castiel watched, unblinking.

"Are you sure you performed it correctly?" He questioned after a long stretch of silence.

Bobby pursed his lips and sighed. It was a very human reaction, one which caused the less than human Cas to dip his head in stiff apology. He typically wasn't the best with nonverbal communication, but Bobby was breaking him of that with his generally clear mannerisms.

"I apologize." He muttered, blue eyes cast to the floor anxiously. Bobby didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. There was rarely a time the two couldn't resolve issues swiftly. Castiel was aware of his shortcomings and amended them eagerly when made aware.

They sat for a time longer, Bobby seated on one of the erected tables while Castiel stood tall and still- ever the soldier. When the roof began to rattle without warning Bobby lurched to his feet. Castiel was ready, shoulders rolling back and hands grazing over the instruments on the table in preparation for a fight.

His fingers found comfort in the handle of a gun, gripping it tight as the entire shack began to rattle.

Castiel said nothing. He waited, watching the doors expectantly. Lights began to blow out, casting a hail of sparks inside the weak walls. He did not flinch or blink against it.

The doors creaked. The single heavy beam holding them shut bent and splintered, giving way as a single visage pressed through the entrance.

In strode a stranger, with a straight back and tense jaw.

He was suited in black, with a dark blue tie and eyes that could kill. He was all sharp edges, suit pressed and shined shoes pointed hard forward. He walked with purpose, unwavering as he strode in like he owned the miserable little place.

Guns fired to signal his arrival, burying lead in his body. He didn't even blink.

Castiel retreated a single step, discarding his gun when it was declared useless. His hand swept the table without looking. He knew every weapon there by feel alone, and when his hand slid over the worn handle of the familiar knife there was no question. He gripped hard, ready for black eyes and hissing.

The stranger's eyebrows rose as if in daring as his hand came around the weapon. He approached still, and Castiel moved in response. They circled each other slowly.

Cas' face was drawn in fierce, frigid lines. He glared blue to unnaturally bright green and circled with shoulders low and ready.

The other form was tight and straight, unarmed and smiling. He grinned lopsided and cocky, pacing around Castiel as if waiting.

"Who are you?" Cas ground out low.

"I'm the one who hauled your ass out of hell." The stranger half-laughed.

"You're welcome." He tacked on sharply, hands in pockets as if waiting for some shower of appreciation.

Cas blinked. Inhaled.

"I do not believe you." He responded, in the same motion bringing his arm up and forward, lodging the knife deep into the creature's chest. It didn't so much as twitch against the blow.

Castiel retreated fast, out of arm's reach as the thing sighed heavily and moved to pull the blade free. His lopsided grin only grew as he twirled the bloody blade in one hand, mocking the attempt.

That was when Bobby moved, swinging hard with a crowbar. The thing halted the strike with one open palm without even looking. Cas flinched, watching as it turned with an almost sarcastic chuckle. Two fingers pressed to Bobby's forehead and he dropped to the ground.

Cas watched, horrified. His face was drawn in mute lines, lacking expression. He stared as if unfazed while panic and concern tore through his insides. The creature turned on it's heel casually, spinning like some showman before smiling ear-to-ear at Castiel.

"C'mon." It beckoned. "We need to talk."

Glances were cast to Bobby. The creature shrugged one shoulder.

"Alone."

Castiel's blood ran cold.

Regardless, he shifted around the thing. It let him pass, backing away as he knelt to check Bobby's vitals. He was alive. Unconscious, maybe a little sore from the drop, but otherwise fine.

Cas glared up with a silent hatred. He did not take well to those who hurt his family.

The creature seemed utterly uncaring as he leaned it's hips against a table, flipping through one of the books present like a patient in a waiting room.

"He's fine, relax." The thing offered without looking up.

"Who are you?" Castiel bit coldly.

"Dean." It responded all too casually.

It was an unusual name for something inhuman. But then again, the same could be said for Castiel vice versa. Still, when he'd first heard the name he hadn't quite expected.. whatever was in front of him.

"I did not mean your name." Cas snapped. He was not in the mood for games. But without an effective weapon he was reduced to the floor, where he looked up and questioned angrily.

"Whatare you?" He rephrased sharply.

Dean sighed heavy, slapped the book shut, and looked up from his reading.

"I'm an angel of the lord." He growled. It hardly seemed angelic.

A moment of silence passed as Cas stared, surveying with his usual piercing stare. He stood slow, still looking the other over. From the tips of his black shoes to the top of his head, Castiel scraped his eyes over every detail, every seam and freckle.

"You're lying." Castiel stated flatly as he rose.

"Angels are not real."

Dean shook his head, lips turning up in a frown as he shifted to fully face Cas.

Arms came to cross and his back turned, leaning back slightly to ease his posture just slightly.

"That's your problem, man." He chided loosely.

"You have no faith."

Castiel's lips twitched slightly.

Of course he had no faith. It burned up when he was a child, watching his father abandon him and burn to death. His faith died when John extracted it from him, because soldiers didn't need faith. He had faith in people once, but that died slow but sure as he traveled with Sam and saw all that they would do to one another. Witchcraft and lying.

He would always kill evil to defend people. But his faith in them was long gone.

Lightning flashed and thunder rolled. Cas twitched, watching the light illuminate the stranger in odd ways. Dean straightened just slightly, adjusting himself as the shadows of unfurling wings spanned across the entire shack. They were massive, daunting, and invisible as the lightning died.

Castiel was struck silent, seeking answers in his head.

Angels were not real. They couldn't be. Because angels meant God, angels meant people suffered without saviors- not because none existed but because they didn't care. He couldn't handle that. He swallowed dry and scraped around in his mind for any denial possible.

"Angels don't burn out women's eyes." Cas snapped.

Dean grimaced as if struck low. He looked pained, but angry as he stepped closer.

"I told her not to look." He growled viciously. "That's what happens when humans try to take peeks. Only a few can stand that. Which you can't."

When Cas made a bitterly confused face, Dean sighed and shook his head. Cas didn't understand the emotion that was meant to convey.

"My voice." Dean spoke flatly. Cas caught on quick.
"The gas station.. The motel..." He muttered. "That was you talking to me."

It was not a question.

Dean nodded, smiling wry but weak.

"Don't try that again." Cas warned. He had a headache for hours because of that nonsense.

The so-called angel offered a dismissive, "Yeaaah, sorry bout that."

"Some people can pick up on my true form. I thought you might be able to." He let the statement hang like somehow Cas was the one in the wrong for the entire situation.

"Then what form is this?" The hunter pressed, eager to redirect the conversation from fault to explanation.

Dean looked himself over, running fingers over the lapels of his suit jacket.

"Pretty nice, right?" He laughed, adjusting his tie to hand slightly loose.

"It's my vessel."

Cas's eyebrows came together hard.

"You're possessing someone?" He snapped. It was almost a shout, but Cas nearly never rose his voice. He knew how to speak with power over volume.

"Relax." Dean waved one hand dismissively. "He prayed- asked for it."

Castiel shook his head and took a step back- refusing to hear the words.

Angels were not real, and if they were they certainly weren't like this.

"No. I don't believe you. What are you really?"

Dean's face tightened with frustration and.. something Cas didn't understand. It looked almost painful, though there was no context to support such a thing.

"I already told you." Dean said firmly, trying to press it into Cas.

He was met with the firm shake of a head. Cas refused to listen.

"Why would an angel rescue me from Hell?" the hunter challenged.

Dean's face broke into an open, easy smile. He barked a single, sharp laugh and eased his thumbs into his pockets.

"Let's just say," he said easily as he took a single step closer. "You're my favorite tortured soul downstairs."

Castiel grimaced.

He was no one's favorite. This was all a pack of lies, and he felt sick off it.

"You're lying." He refused firmly. Dean stepped forward again, leaving barely enough room to breath comfortably.

"What's your problem?" He spoke low, barely above a whisper. Green eyes probed, searching for something in Castiel that the hunter wanted to hide. He recoiled half a step, grimacing against the intrusion of space and soul.

But Dean found what he was looking for. The humor drained from his face as he grew pained and heavy with a strange sadness Castiel didn't want to see.

"You don't think anyone would ever save you." Dean murmured.

Cas felt his whole body tense. He was no stranger to fury, but he rarely experienced it. He was more the cold, calm hunter than an angry one. Yet in that moment as he felt every muscle in his body coil taught there was a heat pouring through him.

"Why?" Castiel demanded, shoulders back and spine straightened. Dean was still taller.

"Why would you do it?" He still wouldn't -couldn't- admit it had happened.

"Because God commanded it." Dean said with a hard, serious tone.

His smile was gone. His eyes narrowed into a sharp gaze, drilling down into Cas. It was so unlike the smiling, casual person from moments ago that Castiel was shaken.

"We've got work for you." He said solidly.

Cas swallowed dry.