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Chapter Text

Living in a world with monsters was one thing, living in a world with supes – very different. It was something Castiel hadn‘t really thought about for years actually: Supes being generically created false gods, portrayed to be heroes, but actually doing more harm, not to mention killing innocent people. The headlines in the newspapers simply calling these murders – accidents. Not to mention the corporate side of it all, the Homelander Funko Pops in every store, condoms with The Deep’s face on it. 

It was something he was used to, just another part of their reality – something that showed how problematic the world was, but nothing that would make him want to attempt to fix it. They had enough to do with other kinds of monsters: vampires, werewolves, demons, even God Himself. Being on the road, hunting them with his best friend Dean, it had been enough to worry  about. The supes had been an issue too unimportant to them. 

But when Dean had gone on a hunt with Sam and got pushed onto a rusty rebar by one of those monsters, and died in his brother's arms, it all ended. Cas hadn't been there to help him. He had been caged in the empty, a dark place, a nirvana, somewhere between life and death. 

Well, that was what he told himself it had been. Actually, he had been there because he had witnessed a true moment of happiness. When he stood in front of Dean, tear-tracked face, telling him that the hunter had changed him, that Castiel loved him, that he had fought for this world because of him. And shortly after, the empty had swallowed him. He had spent weeks, probably months in the darkness. He had slept at the beginning, though, had dreamed of Dean over and over again, loops of horrors, of fear and anger. But then he woke up, banished to walk around in the absolute nothing, a place without an end, only dark around him. He had done this for too long. 

Until he had suddenly popped up on the surface again. Mysteriously, without knowing how he found himself in a field of wildflowers, slightly moving in a breeze, touched by the rising sunlight. He stood there for a while. Not knowing what had happened. Not knowing what to do next. Just breathing in the air, fresh and clean, like he had lived buried underground for half of eternity. 

The next thing he wanted to do was to find a phone booth to call Dean. In hindsight it had been a ridiculous decision, because he was scared, so scared to see Dean, to stand in front of him after everything he had said. One of his nightmares, one of the worst, had been Dean telling him to let it go. That his feelings weren't valid. That his feelings weren't right. 

Nonetheless, he started walking. Through the field, through a forest, touched by the warm sunbeams which felt like thousands of kisses on his skin. He walked and walked and walked. Just to find himself in another field.

He sighed, a big one, like he needed to breathe all the dark, dirty air out of his lungs, and tried to sort his thoughts. But his brain was just a big puddle of chaos, so many memories, so many feelings, such strange but familiar ones. And he felt this itching deep inside his bones. First it felt like he had taken some of the darkness with him, and he fell down on his knees, into the green, touching the blades of grass with the palm of his right hand. And then he felt it, knocking at the door of his soul, or at least where a human soul would have been. Knocking, louder and louder, until he lost his breath and panicked. He panicked in a field, jumped back up on his feet to fight whatever was going on inside him but then...

Suddenly his wings spread wide. Black ones, feathery, slightly sparkling in every color of the world from the sunlight of the morning. He breathed in deeply, letting the feeling sink in, the blue sparkling of his grace, pumping through his arteries, through his veins, filling out every inch of his human vessel, eating him up and making him whole. He was back.

"Good to see you, Cas."

A voice he knew, a voice too familiar, filled the air. He turned around, his big wings slowing down the movement. 

"Jack?"

It was incredible. The first hug after months of loneliness, of hopelessness, of anxiety. Cas held him tight, his arms around the shoulders of the young man, pressing him onto his chest like a long lost son. Well, he was, actually. Jack was God now, or something alike… Some one alike. 

While walking through the pure, innocent nature, Jack told him that this was heaven, the one he had created after they had defeated Chuck. Cas felt proud, so proud of him. He was remarkably pleased when Jack had leaned against his shoulder and told him: "I'm not done yet. I can't do this alone."

Of course, Cas chose to stay. He had no other choice, not really. He needed to help him, needed to make heaven the place they wanted it to be, a better place, a place you call home, a place you find peace after you're done. But it needed time, a lot of time. More weeks passed.

Walking through a field, Cas noticed a little windmill at the horizon, spinning peacefully. The sun was setting, the sky was drowning in the red of the last light. Cas was still impressed by everything Jack had created, a whole world, with mornings and nights, with forest and fields, flowers and trees.

But it was time to leave. Somehow he wasn't sure about this, though. Somehow his grace told him not to. Somehow he felt like he was giving up what he always had wanted. Peace, quiet, a home. No battles. No blood. No death.

But his heart felt heavy in his chest, and with every day it felt more like a rock pressing against his lungs, taking his breath away. Every day, his head told him to be brave, to be the soldier he was raised to be, and to fight one last battle: To look Dean Winchester into the eyes.

And so he zapped himself into the bunker.

He found Sam.

The hunter sat on the table, sad eyes with dark bags under them, face unshaved. In front of him a laptop, as always, but this time not for a case. Not anymore.

He looked up to Castiel. First he squinted his eyes like Cas was only some kind of mirage, then they widened in sheer disbelief. He jumped up from the chair, and even before Cas had the opportunity to say any word, he grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him into a hug.

A long hug. A mourning hug. A hug that should have told him that something wasn't quite right. But it didn't, because he hadn't expected anything to happen. What could have happened with Jack as the new God, with Sam by Dean's side, with free will and all they had always fought for? 

Death hadn't been on Cas' list. Not yet.

Sam let him go, hands still on his shoulders like he was the last lifeline, and looked him in the eyes with so much sorrow that Cas' heart shattered into a thousand pieces before Sam even said a word.

"Cas, man, where have you been?"

"Where's Dean?"

His voice was hoarse, deeper than regular, slightly shaky. 

Sam didn't answer.

"Sam, where is Dean?" Cas repeated, the words now louder and harder than before.

Sam let him go. Cas grabbed his arms instead and pressed them.

Sam blinked at him, tears in his eyes, slowly rising into a river.

"No", Cas breathed out, he realized he had started to shake Sam.

Sam didn't react. Sam didn't even react when Cas let go and looked around in the library, searching for a sign that Dean was there, that he was alive and well, that Sam had some kind of a mental breakdown because of something else and not because of Dean. There was nothing. No beer bottle on the other side of the table. No flannel shirt over the armrest of the stool. No gun in pieces for cleaning. 

Cas breathed in, out and in again as if he needed to, but he didn't, not really. Angels had no need to breathe, had no need to eat, to sleep. But in this moment Cas felt more human than ever before, more so then when he had been an actual human. His heart started to ache, to cry, a thousand tears, bloody and hot. The color drained from his face, he felt the cold touching his cheeks, touching his fingers and arms, spreading through his entire vessel. His legs became heavy, so heavy, almost as if they were about to break under him. He let out a soft whimper before he leaned over a chair, hands on the armrest, eyes focused onto the seat.

He didn't move for minutes. The only part of him which did something was his brain. It worked, on plans, on ideas. But nothing made sense.

Then Cas felt a soft touch on his shoulder. He turned around to Sam, who looked at him with wet cheeks, red eyes.

"Where the fuck have you been, Cas?" He asked again, the words tired of being repeated, tired of hearing an excuse. Castiel knew that no answer would have been enough, too, but he decided to be honest, so he just said: "I was in heaven with Jack."

A small smile found its way to the hunter's face, but one filled with disbelief and anger and he shook his head, so hard that his long brown hair fell onto his face and got stuck there on the wet skin. "Cas, you... fucking asshole!"

With every word his voice got louder, clearer, filled with anger and hatred and despair.

He raised his one hand, shaking, and clenched it to a fist until his knuckles turned white. Cas braced for the hit that never came. He closed his eyes, waiting, but nothing happened. 

The hunter just shouted something – the weight of it would lay on Cas' shoulders until the end of time. Something that made Castiel wish he was still trapped in the Empty. "We needed you, Cas! He needed you! He fucking needed you right there!"

Sam collapsed. As if gravity just had gotten a lot stronger, Sam slumped down on the floor, legs pulled onto his chest, arms around his knees. He cried loudly, shaking, begging.

The angel kneeled down, laid one hand on Sam's hair and pulled his head against his shoulder. Sam cried for a long time, not saying another word. Not saying anything. Just crying.

Cas didn't cry with him. Not a single tear, even when he wanted to. And yes, he tried, but suddenly everything just felt numb. Sam's painful cries became a background noise, not really there; it sounded like miles away. The warmth of his head, his searing cheek on Cas' shoulder. Sam's hands around Cas' arm, pressing him for comfort, for something to hold on, felt like the touch of someone strange. Nothing made any sense. Not anymore.

At some point, after Sam stopped crying into the fabric of the angel's coat, they got off the floor, Cas still holding the hunter's hand, caressing it softly.

"I'm sorry, man", Sam sniveled and swiped the wet strains of hair out of his face.

"No, Sam. You don't need to apologize."

Cas words were honest, only the truth. His own voice sounded incredibly strange to him, as if he hadn't spoken out the words but someone else, as if his body wasn't under his control.

Numb.

Completely numb.

Sam breathed in deeply, again a small smile on his face, but this time it wasn't one of anger but sympathy and understanding.

He leaned back against the corner of the table, fingers tabbing onto the tabletop, when he said: "No, I can't blame you. I don't have any right to blame you. It's not your fault."

Cas nodded robotically, not because he had actually understood the words Sam just had said. He didn't answer, just looked at the younger brother. Eyes empty, face without any hint of emotion. Just Cas, frozen, like the world around him.

It would never defrost. 

They spent the evening together, quietly drinking beer, sometimes talking a little. Sam told him about the hunt, about the vampires. Dean had gone down fighting, proudly, like he always said he would. When Cas pictured the scene in his head, with all the details Sam had told him, the angel didn't see any hint of glory in Dean's death. A rebar in the back: It was nothing dignifying about it.

But Cas had no right to take this away from Sam. It was the last thing he clung onto to stay sane after all this, so Cas just nodded, agreeing. 

The hunter didn't stop at this point. He explained to Cas that Dean had told him not to bring him back, not to look for a way, not to make a deal. Sam struggled with that, obviously, his eyebrows twitched in frustration twice when he told the angel about this promise. It made Cas' stomach churn. For a second Sam went silent, staring at the door behind the angels' back, as if he waited for Dean to come right in with a beer in his hand. 

But nothing happened, of course it didn't. 

Dean was burned and buried, and this fact had been another slap in the face when he had heard that it had been only Sam and the dog. The same dog that had awoken from his slumber and was now lying under the table, curiously eyeing Cas whenever the angel looked down at it. Its name was Miracle, and Castiel thought the name suited it.

They stayed silent for another while, slowly sipping on their beers, thinking.

Then Sam talked about what he wanted to do next, and Cas' brain shut down completely. Stanford. Eileen. House. Dog. Children. Lawyer. 

He only heard some bits and pieces of this monologue, but when he realized that Sam was chuckling lightly, he smiled back.

"Sounds like a plan to me."

Instantly Sam's smile faded away, a heavy silence befell upon them. A few moments later Sam got up from the chair.

"Give me a minute, Cas. I promised Eileen to facetime her so she knows I'm good."

He grabbed the phone from the table, gave Cas another smile, before he turned around and disappeared in the kitchen.

Cas was alone.

And even if he was back on earth, even if Sam was still basically there, it felt more lonely than in the empty. 

********

Five months later Cas got a call. It was one of those days, not really a good one but not as bad as some others before. Just another gray fall day in Kansas, cloudy, cold, a little windy. Cas pulled out the phone and looked at the screen. 

Sam Winchester.

A deep sigh found its way out of Cas'' mouth and he fought with himself to pick it up. 

"Cas?"

Sam's voice sounded excited, not in a good way, though. Something between tiredness and too much caffeine, a sad but hopeful sound.

The angel nodded, until he realized that Sam was on the phone and not right next to him. So he answered quietly "Yes."

"Okay, get this..."

It sounded like Sam was going to tell him about a new hunter case, same words, same pronunciation. The angel was tempted to just hang up, but something in him told him to listen. To listen carefully.

"...I know, you told me that this is bullshit. You really don't have to repeat it, okay?"

A short pause, Sam probably waited for Cas to agree, but the angel stayed silent.

"Okay, man. We talked about this. You tried your way, now it's my turn."

The angel groaned into the phone, getting back an annoyed click of Sam's tongue.

Silence.

It was Sam who spoke up again. His words were carefully chosen this time, interrupted by small pauses to allow them to sink in.

"I know you tried, Cas. I know you tried your best. I know you didn't promise Dean shit. But you heard Jack. No walking dead. Dean is fine."

It nearly sounded like a mantra he tried to implant into Cas' brain, but it didn't work. Of course not. When Cas had talked to Jack months ago, he had been clear: Dean was in heaven, living his best afterlife, surrounded by the people he loved. Cas was happy about it, but it still didn't put his emotions to rest. Because it wasn't about being good, it was about the fact that Dean had died. He had died too young, too fast, without the possibility to actually enjoy his free will. 

In the last couple of months Cas had thought about it a lot. Most time had been spent thinking. And he had always come to the same conclusion – it had been unfair. So damn unfair.

He breathed in sharply and answered: "It's not about that, Sam. But I repeat myself, you know my opinion."

His tongue had been sharper than he had intended and he tried to calm himself down, but the anger, the rage he felt for so long now, shimmered right under the surface.

Rage. 

He had never been an angry angel. Sure, he had been aggravated sometimes - with Sam, with Dean, but mostly with himself. But that wasn't comparable to the kind of anger he was feeling for months now. It felt like it would take so little, a small nudge to make him go off like a nuclear bomb. And he would drag everyone around him into this deep, dirty grave he had dug for himself.

Sam had no clue about it. He hadn't seen him since that day in the bunker. Cas had avoided meeting him, had found stupid excuses for not showing up, even when he had his angel powers back and would have been able to just pop up at Sam's front door. But Sam had no clue about that, either. His feelings weren't about Sam, though. The younger hunter hadn't done anything wrong, and Castiel didn't blame him for anything that had happened. 

He blamed himself, though. 

He was aware that it was all his fault. He hadn't been there for Dean in a moment of despair. He had not shown up to save him as he had promised him to. He hadn't cared about him like he had claimed in his love confession. 

That was the reason Cas hadn't managed to show up in heaven. Jack had even asked him if he wanted to talk to Dean, but Cas had raised a hand and had waved it off, like he wasn't utterly desperate to do so, but it just didn't feel right to look into those green eyes and see all the disappointment. Cas had failed Dean, and now he had to punish himself for that. 

Cas had gotten some new insights into his mind. Five months of finding himself, of understanding himself and the world, had brought him to the conclusion that his mission wasn't done yet. He had told Dean that everything that the hunter had ever done, he had done for love. Cas had looked into his eyes when he had said it, had seen the disbelief, had seen the moment of acceptance. He had decided to make it his mission to fight on for love, for this love especially. 

Love and anger together. Cas knew it was a deadly combination.

"Cas? Are you good?", Sam asked, sounding worried through the phone.

The brown haired angel lied: "I'm fine."

"Okay." 

Sam didn't sound very invested in finding out if it was actually the truth, otherwise Cas would have told him that he was far from fine. But the simple 'okay' had been enough to prove to Cas that he didn't care (that was a big mistake in hindsight), so Cas just listened to the Winchester.

Sam seemed to flip through papers while he started to explain: "So, I told you I would check the situation. No hunting, just checking. So, apparently the vampire who attacked Dean and pushed him onto this rebar wasn't actually a vampire."

"He was not?" Cas asked surprised, his voice slightly higher than regular. 

Sam needed a second before he answered right back: "Yes. First I thought I had gone completely batshit. I mean... the guy was dead. But then I checked Jenny and their group and whatever. I did a lot of research, that's what I'm saying."

He stopped and flipped through some more pages before he continued: "I don't know. Back in the barn he didn't look familiar but then I found this article in a local newspaper. Same fucking face. Stupid grin. Calls himself 'Count Dracu'."

Cas frowned and asked confused: "Count- what?"

"Dracu. Like 'Dracula' or whatever. He is some kind of vampire, but actually not a real one."

Sam stopped again, and Cas heard a female voice in the background. 

Sam answered her softly with a short "Alright, love you" before his attention went back to Cas.

"Sorry, Eileen just left. She took some apple pie to the neighbors."

Cas nodded again, like the idiot he was, before he asked carefully: "How's she?"

"Good. She enjoys all the house decorating and home building a lot."

"And you?" Cas' voice got darker, seeking for an honest answer, and it felt a little like he was calling him out, but it wasn't his intention.

Sam breathed in deeply and answered, sounding somewhat honest: "It's weird. I mean... Eileen, me, the house- it’s what I’ve always dreamed of… but it's weird to open a new chapter of a book if the old one isn't closed yet."

"Get that", Cas assured him calmly.

Sam chuckled quietly and told him: "Two days ago she bought a fucking wooden moose for the yard. I told her to wait until Christmas but... now we have a moose in our yard in mid October."

"That sounds lovely", Cas answered. He heard Sam chuckling into the phone.

"The funniest thing is, there's a little squirrel living in a tree next to our terrace. Eileen started to feed it with peanuts and it now shows up on the window frame of our kitchen daily. And this little thing decided some days ago that the antlers of the moose are the perfect place to eat the meal."

"That's adorable", Cas noted, smirking at the picture of the scene in his head.

Sam giggled and continued: "Yeah, that's something. Getting things done... The front door is blue now because she thought it's going better with the color of the fence."

It wasn't like Cas didn't enjoy talking about stuff like that with Sam. Actually he had missed Sam, he had been a friend after all, but when Cas thought about meeting him, his instinct told him not to. It was safer this way. He knew - or assumed to know - that Sam was still angry with him, because he hadn't saved Dean, because he had let him die on this rusty rebar. He tried to suppress the feelings of guilt building up around his heart and poking it with a stick, and turned back to the smalltalk.

"Sounds a little like you're complaining", he realized.

"I am not, I swear." Sam laughed out and sighed. 

"I love her and I love our life." He paused for a second before he said with a proud tone in his voice: "I also started university this month."

Cas raised his eyebrows.

"Last time you called you said you feel too old for university."

Sam wheezed and agreed: "Yeah, actually I still do. But Eileen made a good point when she said that you have to jump at the chance."

The angel replied full of honesty: "I'm so happy for you."

"Thank you."

Some seconds passed, before Sam cleared his throat and asked: "What about you? What are you doing?"

Cas didn't know what to say. He had done absolutely nothing in the past months. Sitting on benches, watching the blue water of the lake, quietly moving when a fish came up to the surface to get a mosquito for dinner. Sitting on benches in parks, watching happy families play with their children. Sitting in diners, watching people reading the newspapers, drinking coffee. Sitting here and there, thinking about what he had done wrong. Thinking about what he wanted to do next. Sitting there, building up an anger which consumed him sometimes, which was like a fire in his chest, lingering to get out.

"I traveled through Europe some weeks ago. Now I'm currently... in the Bahamas."

It was a lie, a big ass lie, but Sam wouldn't know. He said it with such confidence and conviction that it sounded like the truth.

He heard the surprise in Sam's voice. "Bahamas? That's awesome."

"I enjoy it. Sand and sea and... palm trees. Great." 

Stoic. No more details because he wasn't really there, he never had been, he didn't know anything about the Bahamas. So many years of existence and he didn't know much about the world. He actually was in a diner in Lawrence, just some minutes away from Sam. He sat there in the old-fashioned booth in the corner of the room, a cup of coffee in front of him on the table. He was sitting there for hours now, drinking coffee. Looking out of the window.

Silence again. Heavy seconds.

"Okay, so... the guy I told you about…", Sam rewinded and sighed, "Count Dracu. He is actually pretty much alive. I found some dates of festivals he's going to show up for Halloween. The guy wasn't dead when we left the barn."

It was like someone hit Cas into the guts, it was a powerful punch. His muscles tensed, and he swallowed hard. Dean's murderer was alive. Very much alive.

Sam continued excitedly: "The guy is a supe, Cas! He is a fucking supe!"

Cas didn't react. He froze; it was like everything around Cas turned a hint darker than it had been before. Dean's murderer was alive and a supe.

Sam inhaled sharply when he explained: “He has a social security number. He is sponsored by Vought."

Vought. The superhero factory. The headquarter was in New York City, worth billions of Dollars. Homelander was the lead at the moment. Cas never had been interested in the superhero stuff, not at all. Sure, sometimes he had bought a bag of chips with Starlights face on it, but just because there was nothing that wasn't branded by Vought. Even the toilet paper had some kind of superhero on it. Cas bit his lower lip and looked down into his empty mug.

„What are you thinking of?"

Sam groaned and a hint of helplessness diluted his words when he admitted: "I don't know. When I found out I wanted to kill him. But Eileen noted that I wouldn't have a chance. Supes are some other kind of monster."

He was right. Vampires, ghosts, demons were something else. They all had some kind of weakness, a weakness they knew or was easy to find out with research, but supes were individual and trained to not show their weaknesses to the world. Killing a supe would be a lot more difficult, maybe even impossible if he was like Homelander.

Cas heard a door opening in the background, and Eileen coming closer. This time he was able to understand what she was saying.

"Still Cas?"

Sam probably nodded, then a short static noise.

"Cas?" 

Eileen's voice was filled with sorrow. 

"Hello, Eileen", he returned. 

The basically retired hunter told his girlfriend: "Cas says ‘Hi‘.“

She seemed to lean over because her voice got louder when she said: "You promised to come over."

Cas let out a sigh and started to tab with his fingers onto the cup handle. He had to think of another good excuse, but his brain was a mess, so he just exhaled a "Sorry".

Sam clicked his tongue.

"Did you tell him? About the court thing?", she turned to Sam.

Some rustles, Eileen seemed to take a paper. 

Then she said: "We're going to file an action against the guy."

Cas stopped in motion.

"What?"

"The guy who killed Dean. We can't hunt him down. But we can drag him in front of a jury", Sam explained.

Cas frowned and looked up to the waitress, who just had come over to pour in another cup of coffee. He raised his hand to thank her and got a smile in return. Cas took a sip, and another and thought of what to tell Sam. But he didn't know.

Sam, who had waited for a reaction, let out a noise of annoyance and stated: "Cas, I know that's rough. But I kinda... need it."

There was no other way to get some rest, to somehow close this chapter, or at least to try. Cas knew exactly what it was, he knew exactly how it felt. And yes, he wanted that guy to pay for what he had done. But a court case? It seemed unbelievably stupid and somehow hopeless. But he knew that Sam needed it, he needed to do something.

"I need to do something, Cas", he confirmed desperately as if he had heard his thoughts. "I can't just let it go."

Chapter Text

They had tried to make them pay. Sam had found a lawyer, one who had already won different court cases against supes, or at least against their management. No big wins, though, but some compensation, some justice. Still, it was more complicated than Sam and Cas had thought. First they had to make Dean someone else, because Dean Winchester still stood on the 'shoot first, ask later' list of the FBI and other institutions of the United States. Then they had to take care of an official death certificate and a grave to prove his death. Everything Dean hadn't got, everything Dean should have gotten. Cas was still  bitter when he imagined Dean burning on the pyre, only Sam and Miracle by his side. He should have been there, but he hadn't been — and it hurt. It hurt more than a dagger in his heart.

However, court cases weren't easy to win, especially not against companies like Vought. And so, in the end, it turned out the way Cas had kind of expected: They lost.

Accident. 

They called it an accident like all the other mysterious deaths. In their eyes, he was just collateral damage, a nameless man on a long list of bodies. Nobody cared that he had been Cas‘ whole world. Everything the angel had ever done, he had done for Dean, and it hurt so much to witness how he didn't get at least some justice. How nobody cared about him, after he had saved so many lives. Of course nobody knew, but Castiel and Sam did. And it just wasn't fair.

Cas had absolutely no idea about the justice system of the United States. He just knew it was complicated, and Sam, who had just started to study law, was so occupied with the case that Eileen even messaged the angel one evening to ask him to have a word with Sam. Cas hadn't gone to any of the trials, he just wasn't able to. To look at Sam, to hear Dean's fake name over and over again... Just imagining it made him shiver and it felt like a kick into the guts.

Some months later, eleven months after Dean's death, Sam called.

Vought had offered him some kind of compensation, around sixty-thousand dollars, but he had to sign a declaration of discontinuance. Sam had decided against it, but to appeal wasn’t on the table for the hunter, too much money was spent already and too much time and nerves had been consumed by it.

But Cas hadn't been inactive, though. He had found out where Count Dracu lived and had collected some personal information about him. He hadn’t dug deep, because he didn't want to know much about him anyway. He just wanted him to be dead.

It was late at night, when Cas found himself in a small side road in the Bronx of the Big Apple. On one side of the building stood a row of dumpsters, smelling rotten and moldy. A single light over a small metal door illuminated the gloomy scene as Cas hid in a dark corner next to a pipe. Only a few minutes passed until the door swung open and a man came out, distant chatter falling silent when the door clicked back into the lock. He coughed, slid one hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He put one between his lips and was just about to light it, when Cas jumped out of the shadow and stabbed him with his angel blade through the chest. The man looked at him in surprise, eyes widened in shock, and Cas felt his heart pulse in his head until it faded away into a swooshing noise at the back of his brain. The guy suddenly grinned at him, and grabbed the handle of the blade, still stuck in his chest, the shirt turning red around the wound. 

"Nice try", he acknowledged, pulling out the weapon without even batting an eye. He looked at the weapon, blood dripping down on the ground. Then he let it fall. 

He gave the angel another look, who just stood there, confusion written all over his face, eyes focused onto the blood-soaked spot. It took him a moment to snap out of it, but when he did, he raised his hand. Still, the fake-vampire was faster, grabbing his hand, fingers curling around the wrist, pressing hard. The pain shot through Cas‘ hand, a sharp, pulsing pain, and he screamed, before he swung his other fist and hit the supe in the arm. The man let go and stumbled backwards against the door. A few moments passed before he let out an angry shout, then jumped right at Cas, who was fast enough to dodge the hit to his chest, but it still landed  on his stomach. It hurt when his lungs lost all of the air, but he quickly recovered and punched the vampire in the face. His opponent made a step back, catching breath, blood running out of his nose.

"Fuck you.“ The guy shouted, anger turning his face red.

Castiel also inhaled deeply and tried to breath away the pain which started to flood his whole body, making him shiver deeply. He made a step forward, his shaking hand raised to give the supe a taste of his angelic powers. But the Count wasn’t impressed at all and just ducked away under his arm, placing another hit to the angel's waist. Cas coughed and nearly lost balance. He stopped himself from falling by taking a lunge, but before he was able to turn around again, he got hit on the head hard.

He didn't pass out, but the pain was so strong that it made him fall to his knees.

When he turned his head around, he was alone.

Well, not completely alone. Some strange creature stood there on the sidewalk. Cas blinked to figure out if it was Count Dracu in the dark — even after that fight it was still a ridiculous name — but then the shadow came closer and a female voice asked him softly: “Are you alright?”

In the faded light he looked into the worried face of a woman, probably in her early thirties, black hair, dark eyes, a silver piercing in her nose. She reached out a hand to help Cas up, and he grabbed it hesitatingly. Back on his feet, the pain shot into his head, making him dizzy and he screwed his eyes shut, feeling nauseated.

“You good?”

Cas nodded slightly, which worsened the ringing in his ears and he leaned over as he felt the need to throw up. She patted his back and said: “I’m gonna call an ambulance.”

“No” he gave back, voice husky, the taste of iron on his tongue.

She put her hand on her hips and noted: “He smashed your head like a watermelon, bro. You should get this checked.”

He glanced at her, one eyebrow raised and he asserted: “I’m fine.”

She just shook her head. 

“No, man. You’re not. I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

He just wanted to protest again, but she cut him off. “Not a word. I won’t let you go without a doctor having a look at you.”

The angel gave in and nodded, he didn’t have the energy for discussions. Before she grabbed his arm, he secretly let his bloody angel blade disappear in the sleeve of his trenchcoat. Then she guided him to her car, just a block away. It was an old Volkswagen, red, rusty and when Cas sank into the passenger seat, he closed his eyes for a moment to control the pain in his muscles and bones.

The first ten minutes they were silently listening to the radio, techno music, and the pounding in his head adapted to the steady rhythm of the bass. He inhaled to stop another wave of nausea coming up his throat and looked down onto his wrist. It still hurt, but not as bad as his waist or the head.

“What’s your name?”, she asked curiously, breaking the silence.

Castiel looked out of the window, house fronts shooting by. He hadn’t noticed that it had started to rain, little raindrops were running down the glass.

He bit his lip and replied: “Castiel.”

The angel felt her gaze on him, but didn’t return it.

“I’m Angela.”

He didn’t react. 

“You’re new here?”, she questioned.

Cas nodded slightly, it wasn’t a lie. He had never been to New York before, not once in his millennia old life. He had to smirk when he realized again that he had spent most of his life on earth in Kansas mostly, in a bunker. 

She wasn’t done with the questions even if Cas had hoped she would be. 

“The guy who beat the shit out of you… do you know him?”

He slightly shook his head. Not completely a lie, but also not the truth. But he wasn't interested in any smalltalk, his head hurt too much to even focus on the words she spoke. She laid a hand onto his arm for comfort and it sent an uneasy shiver down his spine. But her hand stayed, carefully caressing while she recommenced: "You should make a report. After the hospital I'll drive you to the police station."

"That's not necessary." 

He moved his arm a little away towards his chest and she was forced to take her hand away and place it on the wheel again. Cas let out a breath of air silently and relaxed into the seat again.

She noticed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Angela grinned at him, a white row of teeth. He smiled back.

The tension in the car disappeared, and Angela started a monologue about her life. She was married, had two kids and lived in the Bronx all her life. She worked at a supermarket, her husband at a gas station. She was enthusiastic about her children, two boys, one still in kindergarten. She was about to collect money so she was able to send them to college, but with the actual prices she had to fight for every penny. However, the conversation abruptly ended when they reached the entrance of the hospital.

"Thank you."

He just wanted to open the door, but she grabbed his shoulder and pressed him softly into the seat. 

"Do you want me to wait so I can drive you to the police station after?", she asked. 

Castiel shook his head and assured her: "No, I'm good."

She frowned and gave him an uncertain glance. 

"You're gonna get checked, promise me."

The angel sighed and nodded. "Promise."

She grinned and praised: "Good decision."

With a last goodbye, he jumped out of the car and watched her leave the parking zone until she turned a corner. He decided to break his promise to find a place to stay for the night, but in the moment he took the first steps away from the building a man in a black coat laid a hand on his shoulder. 

"You good, mate?"

Cas let out a moan and took a good look  at the guy. Tall, black wild hair, black beard, brow furrowed.

"You're bleeding", he noticed, his words thick with a British or Australian accent, Cas couldn't really tell.

Cas realized it now for the first time. His white shirt was blood-soaked at the spot on his waist where his offender had hit him. And now, focusing on it, he realized the pain he was in. It hurt, a dragging pain in his hip, and he frowned. Did the Count carry a knife? He wasn't able to remember.

"I'm good."

The guy laughed, a dark laugh, and smacked him onto the back.

"Sure, mate. A supe spanked your ass and you're good."

The angel looked at him in surprise. How did he know that?

As if the man had read his mind, he explained: "A little birdie told me."

Then he ran a hand through his hair and grinned again. 

"You got up and walked around the block like nothing happened. I'm impressed."

Castiel heard the alarm bells, very loudly, but he was curious and maybe this guy could be helpful in some way. So he played along and shrugged.

"Not the worst that had ever happened to me.“ He played it down in a casual tone. 

The guy raised a corner of his mouth and observed: "Can imagine."

Cas cleared his throat and put his hands into the pockets of his trenchcoat. His body ached, full of pain, but it got better with every second. It would take some hours to fully heal, though.

"So, your little bird...", Cas started and the man interrupted him instantly. "Angela. She had an eye on you."

Then he squinted his eyes thoughtfully and stretched out his hand, while he said: "Where are my manners? I didn't even introduce myself yet. Billy Butcher."

The angel took the man's hand and pressed it firmly. Billy smiled.

********

The angel followed the man to the car, a black, big truck, tinted windows. Billy waited for him to get in, before he opened the driver's door and sat down on the seat.

"Little stressed, mate?", he asked him, probably noticing Cas' insecurity. The angel folded his hands and tried to hide that he had not the slightest clue what he was doing right now. He wasn't scared, but what the hell was he thinking about getting into another stranger's car in the middle of the night in a city like New York? 

Every other person would have called him crazy. He felt the angel blade on his skin, still hidden under the trench and reminded himself that he was an angel, a soldier, and that he was definitely able to defend himself. Sure, he was a little bit embarrassed that the fight with the supe hadn't gone like he had imagined, but he admitted to himself that he had underestimated the Count. He wouldn't make that mistake twice.

Billy closed the door of the car and started the engine.

"Where are we going?", the angel asked.

"I promised you a beer, and you'll get one. I know a bar, gonna head there."

Cas nodded and Butcher hit the gas pedal.

"So", Cas began and gazed at the mysterious man in his black coat. "Angela told you about me?"

Butcher raised his shoulders, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his knee.

"Oi. I've got some friends here and there watching out for supes doing stuff. She was put on little Edward. She followed him, didn't know you were hiding to get his ass."

"Edward?"

"Cullen, because he’s a vampire. Got me?"

The angel sighed. Butcher frowned.

"Whatever." He licked his lips with the tip of his tongue and casted a glance at Castiel. 

"Are you okay?"

It didn't sound honestly worried, but more curious. Castiel was sure that he had figured out that he wasn't just a regular human, otherwise he already would have probably died of blood loss. But he didn't see any necessity to answer the questions which burned on the stranger’s tongue, so he just nodded.

Billy Butcher rolled his eyes and mumbled: "Not a natterer. I see."

"I just don't share private information with some random person who spied on me", Cas countered with a convicting glance and rubbed with the palms of his hands over his knees.

Butcher raised a finger and stated: "Touché."

He made a turn into some kind of industrial area. The streets were just barely lightened and completely empty. 

"Shouldn't be surprised really, you don’t look like an idiot.'' Butcher stated with a smile and stopped the car at the side of the street. On the right side was a gray concrete wall, on the other side some industrial buildings. No signs, no bar. Well, at least not visible.

Castiel laid a hand on the door handle and Butcher added: "Angela liked you. Also said you're a hottie."

He winked at him and jumped out of the car. The angel let that sink in for a second before he followed Billy.

"So your friend watched me fighting with this supe?"

Butcher let out a chuckle and laid an arm on Cas' back while crossing the street.

"Oi. She didn't expect you to survive, though. But when you did, she called", he explained and led Cas to a garage.

"You think I'm a supe, too", Cas realized and managed to shake off the man's arm.

Butcher raised an eyebrow and announced: "Not sure yet."

He knocked at the garage door three times before it started to open. When it stopped half way Cas beheld a bar even with guests.

On the right side was the counter, tinkered out of old pallets. A man stood behind it and looked at them with his arms crossed in front of his chest. In the middle five old tables were placed, also probably self- made. The left wall was wallpapered with a picture of Homelander. Some people looked up when Butcher pushed Cas to the bar, but nobody seemed bothered about it. The barkeeper eyed Cas suspiciously and turned to the black-haired man.

"You got some nerves" he just stated.

Billy grinned and slammed a strange looking coin onto the counter. The man, probably late fifties, with a long horse-like face and wild eyebrows, immediately took it and it disappeared in a pocket of his apron. 

"What's with him?" he asked and made a head movement towards Castiel.

Billy leaned down with one elbow on the counter and pointed at the bar, then asked the angel: "Wanna drink something? A beer?"

Castiel nodded and turned around to check the room. Nobody was interested in them. A group of men stood in a corner, arguing, one seemed to be pretty drunk, he weaved back and forth. A man with wide shoulders and a fierce face sat at one table, opposite a woman with thick red hair who played with the straw of her drink. On another table a couple was making out, she was sitting on his lap, tongues tangled. It seemed like a pretty normal bar, but Cas knew it wasn't, he felt it in his fingertips. Still, there seemed to be nothing to worry about.

He hadn't noticed that Billy had got his drink and raised his glass to Cas.

"Cheers, mate."

Cas grabbed his bottle and raised it. 

Butcher took a sip, a satisfied look on his face, then he moaned. Cas took a gulp just to notice that it didn't taste like the beer he was used to when he had been with the Winchesters. It tasted bitter and somehow chemical, and he checked out the label for the brand's name, just to find an empty spot.

"Special brew. Rick got his own business", Butcher explained.

Castiel raised his eyebrows. "He should work on the recipe then."

Butcher's eyes widened with a grin on his face and he whispered: "Better not tell Ricky, he's a sensitive one. And by sensitive I mean he's hiding a Kalashnikov under his apron."

Cas pressed his lips together, a short smile appearing on his poker face. The black-haired man chuckled, then he emptied the glass, leaned against the counter and said: "Okay, man. Real talk."

He grabbed Cas' sleeve and pulled him closer, so nobody was able to hear them.

"Why did you attack that cunt?"

The angel didn't answer. He took another sip and realized the taste had gotten worse, so he put it down on the counter. Billy watched him, like he tried to read what was going on in his mind but it didn't seem to work. 

He asked again: "Com'on, mate. I know I don't look like the trustworthy guy from the neighborhood but I am the trustworthy guy from the neighborhood."

Cas snorted. "Doubt it."

Billy raised his hands. "Got me. Scratch the 'trustworthy'. But I bought you a drink so you owe me some answers."

"Do I?"

Billy didn't seem amused. He scratched his temple and looked down to the bottom of the glass.

"Listen. I'm not asking you for your favorite sex toy, I just want to know why you chose to fuck around with a supe. If you're not insane, what’s the matter?"

Cas breathed out and rolled his eyes. He knew that if he didn't give him some answers he wouldn't get some, too. So he decided to share a part of his intentions.

"I lost someone," he started and with these words the pain he had suppressed came right back, into his wrist, his hips, his head but also the pain in his heart, the dagger still sticking deeply in it, stopping the wound from healing. Cas forced himself to continue.

"He was very important to me. And this man is his murderer."

Butcher nodded, like if he knew what he was talking about, then he sighed deeply.

"You're in the right place, mate. I want you to meet some people. I think you'd fit perfectly into the team."

"What team?" Cas asked.

Butcher smiled. "Just a team of some boys... and girls."

********

Castiel wasn't really sure what Billy Butcher was talking about. He told him a lot about Homelander, about everything that went wrong on this earth and philosophized about a world without supes. At some point he changed the subject and told him about some kind of team he had built, and chatted about some kind of master plan he had constructed to finally get rid of the superhumans. He didn’t go much in detail, though, but it sounded a lot like a kamikaze mission. Butcher was a kind of man who was willing to sacrifice himself and others for a greater good, if this was even the greater good. Cas' questioned that while listening, but he couldn’t disagree that sacrifices had to be made. The angel didn't mind it anymore. At some point in the past months he had given up on himself and the world, so everything he got offered to do was just alright. Butcher seemed pretty convinced, though.

They were still standing at the bar side by side, Butcher leaned onto the counter, Cas stood there with his hands in the pockets of the trenchcoat. Most guests had left already and through some tiny windows right under the ceiling the first sunbeams made their way into the bar. Morning had risen.

Butcher emptied the glass of cognac he had ordered and made a hand movement to get Ricky to come over. The barkeeper ignored Cas willingly and addressed Butcher.

"Another fleabag for your suicide squad?"

It made Cas snort. So yes, he had been right. After all the years with the Winchesters he had learned to read people, or at least he wasn't completely lost anymore. He still had his issues with getting jokes or understanding sarcasm, but at least he had improved his judgment. 

The garage door opened up and Ricky waved his hand to make them leave.

"Don't bring your dirt in my house, Billy. I'm warning you", were his last words, and Billy winked at him before he pushed Cas outside and the door shut behind them.

It seemed to be a pretty decent day. The sun was shining, the sky was blue and not a single cloud was visible. Cas crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked around, only now he realized the logo on one of the buildings: Ricky's Bike Repair. 

Butcher walked to the car, Cas followed him quietly.

"Okay, man. Time to grab some fuckin' good coffee and get some fuckin' sleep", Butcher said over the roof of the car and jumped into it. Cas did the same.

When they seated themselves Billy turned to the angel.

"What's with your wound?"

Cas looked down on the red spot, and carefully pressed it. It didn't hurt anymore, which meant that it had healed. He realized that the pain in his wrist and his head were gone, too. Cas looked up to find Butcher smirking at him with an ‘I knew it’ expression on his face. Cas didn't say a word. Butcher didn't either.

He drove in the direction of the city center, choosing the left lane to press the gas pedal. Cas looked out the window and got lost in his thoughts and memories. In the car, on the passenger seat. Dean sipped coffee out of a plastic cup and sang along with 'Highway To Hell' . It felt surreal, like it all had been a dream of a long time ago and Cas shivered when he realized that someday those memories were going to fade away.

"Where shall I drop you off?", Butcher asked suddenly, and Cas flinched shortly when he woke up.

"I-...", he started and thought about it, then said: "Doesn't matter actually. I don't have a place to stay yet."

"What the bloody hell?"

Butcher glanced at him. "Where have you been sleeping since you got here?"

‘I didn't sleep’. Cas knew he shouldn't say it and he didn't. He just shrugged and remembered the time when he had been human. He had slept basically everywhere: On benches in parks, in homeless shelters, in broom closets. Nothing of it had been acceptable, but it had been better than nothing.

So he raised his shoulders and just noted: "I'll find a place."

Butcher sighed and mumbled: "You're really a fuckin' fleabag, aren't you?"

He hit the breaks and parked next to a coffee shop. He left the car without saying another word and returned shortly after with two cups of coffee.

One he reached over to Cas, who nodded thankfully, the other he placed in the center console.

"You can hit the couch in the office, if you want to."

It was an offer which didn't come easily over his lips, Cas read it from his tired face. But he offered it and Cas was glad that he wasn't about to sit around in diners again. 

So he thanked him and got a nod in return.

Butcher dropped him off in the middle of the city, handing him a card with an address. 

"Hope you've got a fucking phone at least", he shouted through the open car window. Cas stood on the sidewalk, in between a crowd of people, minding their morning business.

Cas nodded and took it out of the pocket. 

"Good. You'll find it. Pretty sure someone's there. If it's MM tell the motherfucker I'm not playing. He has to get his shit together or I will."

Those were his last words before the window closed and the car slowly rolled back onto the street.

The angel did what Butcher had said. Nobody seemed to notice that a guy with bloody clothes was walking through the streets, a disoriented expression on his face. Some time later he actually managed to find the building in the morning rush hour without getting hit by a car.

The angel rang and after a while someone pressed the door opener. He decided for the stairs instead of the elevator and reached a door without a name or number on it, half open.

He knocked and went in.

A young man sat on a desk and stared at the screen of a computer. He looked up when Cas closed the door behind him and a smile found its way onto his face.

"Hi", he greeted him and got up from the office chair. "You're Castiel, right?"

The angel nodded. 

"I'm Hughie. Don't know if Butcher mentioned me."

Actually he had, when he had explained their plan to Castiel. He hadn't gone much into detail, but it had been enough to figure some stuff out. Hughie had been some kind of footnote in the story.

The kid grabbed another office chair and pointed down on him.

"Take a seat."

Castiel sat down. 

Hughie took a bite of a sandwich, his eyes wandered up and down on Cas.

"So", he started with a still half-full mouth, "Butcher said you're part of the team now."

Castiel frowned and replied: "I haven't decided that yet."

"Oh." The boy grinned and took another bite. 

"That's him. He doesn't really give you a choice. If he says you're part of the team, you are."

Cas snorted and stated: "I don't think he's in charge to decide that."

Hughie grinned a little more and recommenced: "In that case you should run."

He chuckled and let himself fall onto the chair. 

Then he looked at another sandwich on the plate and then at Cas. He pointed at it with a questioning face and asked: "Do you want it?"

The angel shook his head. 

"Okay."

Hughie stuffed the last piece of his sandwich into his mouth and chewed a while, then swallowed hard and immediately took a sip of the coffee cup. He moaned and leaned back.

"So, what's your story?" he asked curiously.

Castiel tilted his head to the left with a confused face.

Hughie raised his hands and explained: "The reason you're here. Nobody's here without a reason." 

The angel shrugged and answered shortly: "I want to kill a supe."

The boy sighed. "We all want that, man."

He looked up and down on him for another time, then his eyes widened and he pointed to the bloody spot at Cas' waist. 

“Are you good?”, he asked, frowning.

Cas nodded and explained: “It’s old.”

Hughie made an understanding humming noise and noted: “I heard you didn’t want to get yourself checked.”

Castiel groaned and passed his hand over his forehead. What was he doing here? He was pretty sure that he was able to find this supe by himself. He was out there right in that moment, and who knew if he hadn’t his next victim right in front of him. Every second here was a waste of time, he should be hunting him! But then he remembered how his fight had gone, and Cas bit his lower lip angrily. He needed help even when he didn’t want to admit it. And maybe these people could be helpful. These people were driven by revenge and that was exactly what Cas had been looking for.

For a moment he froze and remembered that he actually knew better than listening to feelings like this; revenge always had a price, though, but…

“What’s your story?”, he heard himself say, and looked at Hughie.

The young man swallowed and he zoomed out, his eyes wandered to a board next to an ugly, old couch.

“I lost someone I loved”, he started with a rusty voice and pressed his hands hard. “She got killed by A-Train. He…”

A soft sigh came out of his parted mouth, before he murmured: “He ran into her.”

It seemed like the memories hit him hard and he cleared his throat, his eyes still wandering around in the room. Cas felt that he didn’t want to tell him much, and regarding the fact that they just used to know each other he understood why. But it seemed similar to what Cas had gone through.

“I fell into a hole and… then Butcher found me.”

Finally Cas’ and Hughie’s eyes met again and the boy smiled softly. 

“We all have some stories to tell”, he said and raised his shoulders. “We’re a fucked up bunch of idiots. But we fight for the right thing.”

Cas looked down on his hands. “Revenge?”

“No”, Hughie said with a straight, clear voice. “Justice.”