Graceful

When Sam and Dean had managed to find the right room and break the door down, they had been expecting to find the worst, but it was still a shock to see Castiel trapped in a ring of fire, devastated and on his knees. The pleading look he had thrown their way had frightened Dean, forced him into action almost mechanically. He hadn't even realized what he was doing until he had done it; until he had thrown his jacket into the fire to break the ring. He barely had time to warn Sam. Even behind closed eyes, the white light burned. There was a sudden surge of power in the room as the angel left his vessel. Just as suddenly, the energy fled. When Sam and Dean opened their eyes, Jimmy had been left behind.

At first they thought Castiel had fled to heaven.

But when they started untying Harry's wrists, they realized that the angel had never left the room.

The body was warm.

Castiel was inside.

Now here they were, six hours later. No more Jimmy.

"Cas will be okay... Right, Dean?"

"Yeah," Dean answered despite the situation. "He'll be fine." He closed his eyes against exhaustion. "He'll find a way."

"He is quite good at that, isn't he?" a thin voice drawled, a wayward comment.

The men shot up to their feet at the sight of Death standing at the doorway, fingers caressing the cold gold at the top of his cane. He took a step forward and paused to glance at the carnage left in Castiel's wake - the blackened marks on the floor and walls as well as the body laying across the room. Dratted angel. Death pursed his thin lips. Natural order had been disrupted once again. Did no one have respect for his work nowadays?

He cast an icy glare at the Winchesters. "You helped him do this."

Sam gulped and Dean figured it was best to say nothing at all, seeing as how that would probably only get them in even more trouble.

Death let out a heavy sigh and said, "I could reap them both. Right now."

They really, really hoped there was a 'but' at the end of that thought...

"Do you know what your angel is trying to do in there?" Death approached the bloodied body, circling it with eyes of a vulture. "I have never seen an angel try this hard with a human before." He shook his head in disappointment. "Wasted potential for such a strong servant of God. He just can't stop saving humanity, can he?"

Dean decided that Death was getting a little too close to Harry's body for comfort. "Come on. You can't be angry at Castiel for helping us out," he reasoned. "It's part of the angel job description."

"Part of the angel job description is to help humanity," Death corrected him. "Not a handful of humans."

"Well... He's got to start somewhere."

"He is disregarding the natural order. There will be consequences if he continues like this." Death broke off and turned his head away, as though listening to something far away. "Dangerous consequences..." His brows furrowed. "Hmm." He looked down at Harry again, expression clouding from the noises above that mortals could not hear. "Everyone wants to save the little cockroach." He rapped his cane on the floor once before whipping around and storming for the door. "It appears your angel has a guardian of his own."

The walls rattled without warning and the ceiling cracked above Sam and Dean.

Stark white light that rushed in nearly blinded them, but they were able to shield their eyes in time. The shrieking was unbearable however. They fell to their knees, eyes squeezed shut and hands clapped to their ears as the unearthly howl grew louder and louder, the light grew brighter and brighter, the building shook and the walls started to crumble around them. Impossible energy knocked them unconscious.

When they came to, they were alone in the dusty room.

No angel.

No Death.

No Harry.

Castiel awoke in an unfamiliar home.

He was laying on a couch. A knit blanket had been thrown on him. He curled his fingers around a corner and pulled it up to his shoulder. The windows were open and the sheer white curtains fluttered in the breeze. There were photographs on the mantle above the white fireplace, photos of an unfamiliar family. On the low coffee table in front of him was a steaming mug of tea. He didn't drink tea. He stared at the swirling steam instead.

"Castiel?"

He closed his eyes against the quiet voice. Familiar voice.

A hand brushed against his hair. "Castiel...?"

He wanted to sleep.

"Castiel."

He opened his eyes.

Anna knelt before him and her kind fingers stroked his temple. "Hello."

Castiel let go of the blanket and brought his hand up to meet hers. "Did it work?" he had to know.

She pushed her bright red hair out of the way and said, "No. It didn't."

His hand tightened around hers. "I had to-"

"You had to try?"

He let go of her hand. "It hurts, Anna..." Turning away from her, he faced the back of the couch and wrapped his arms around his unsettled stomach. "I am not as strong as you." He couldn't do what she had done.

"It is not about being strong."

He forced a sliver of calm into his mind. He would go mad otherwise. He focused on the texture of the couch and the strands from the blanket. "Am I in your Heaven?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because if the garrison knew what you tried to do..." Anna pulled Castiel onto his back so she could look at him. "Do you even know what you tried to do?" She was met with no answer. "An angel's grace, it cannot be given away. Your grace gives you power. But in the hands of a human, it is deadly. You could have died, Castiel."

"I would die for him."

She smiled at his naivety. "And did he ask you to die for him?"

"I don't know." When there was nothing else he could do to heal Harry, when he had all but given up, he had thought that perhaps his grace could help. If he could gift his grace to Harry... "I don't know what he wanted me to do." He wasn't supposed to give up. Harry told him not to give up, so he had thought that-

"He does not need your grace to live."

Castiel stared up at the ceiling. "... to live." For a moment, he dared to hope. "He... Is he...?"

"What is it you call him? One of a kind?" Anna got up to her feet. "Don't try something so foolish again. I might not be there to stop him. Or you."

Waking up was difficult this time.

Heavy. Each cell in his body weighed him down, each breath labored. He wanted to sleep forever.

But voices entered his mind, disturbing that heavy sleep. Kind voices. Hospital noises.

He should wake up…

He couldn't move his arms or legs. Everything was just so heavy.

Heavy…

Heavy bones, heavy air, heavy blood, heavy breath…

And suddenly he was awake.

His eyes shot open and he scrambled up, grappling at his chest in horror.

"Whoa, easy." Ron and Hermione were by his side to pull him out of his nightmare. They took his hands and eased them down. "You're safe."

Harry blinked rapidly while flicking his eyes around the room. "Where-"

"St. Mungo's," Hermione answered him before he could finish. "You're in the hospital. You got hurt, remember?"

"I…" He looked down at himself. There wasn't any blood, just a blue hospital gown. "I got hurt…"

"But you're better now."

"Yeah." He rested a hand to his heart. "I'm alright." He could feel an errant rhythm against his palm. "Um." He looked up at his friends. "How am I alright… exactly?"

"We aren't really sure what happened in the first place," Ron explained. "You sort of showed up here last Saturday and you've been sleeping ever since."

"Oh… Just… sleeping?" He was confused.

"The Healers said that you had suffered some internal damage recently," Hermione added, "but it was healing on its own, so they let it be." She rested a hand on his shoulder. "What's going on?"