always

Heaven's gate

You're making the right decision.

Castiel has to constantly remind himself on his drive to Heaven's gate. He nearly turns back on his last stop for gas.

But then he remembers how he'd been grabbing some last-minute ingredients for a spell on their last Hunt, intending to stop what they thought had been a warlock. It wasn't a warlock. It was just a demon dabbling in old, dark magic. And by the time Castiel had gotten to the scene, the demon had been dealt with. Dean had clapped a hand on Castiel's shoulder and said,

"We didn't need the ingredients for the spell after all. Turns out it was just a demon."

Castiel had felt completely useless.

And that's what he is now. Useless. Castiel's relationship with the Winchesters has always been about his usefulness. What he can do to help. How he can help as an angel rather than another man. He knows the Winchesters have kept him around for as long as they have because of his angelic powers. He'd be dead long ago without them anyway. He has died with them and has only been lucky to be brought back each time. But there is nothing to help out with anymore besides Hunts. Which the Winchesters have proven time and time again that they are more than capable of doing on their own. This last Hunt is a prime example.

Castiel's thoughts are ended upon his arrival to Heaven's gate. He stares at the playground and feels nothing. He's cried all his tears. He's doubted himself a hundred times over. He's ready for this all to be done.

He steps outside, and it's quiet. His footsteps seem loud in comparison. A couple of angels are stationed next to the gate. They're standing rigidly, not even attempting to blend in. They probably don't have to. No one is at the park at 3am.

The angels notice him and stand straighter, their hands hovering over their blades.

"Castiel?" the one on the right asks.

"Hello, brother," Castiel answers and looks towards the other angel. "Sister." He nods in greeting. "I'm not here to fight."

"Sorry if we don't quite believe you," his sister answers bitterly.

Shame and guilt strike Castiel surprisingly hard. He swallows. "I understand if you harbor negative feelings towards me, but—"

His sister chuckles. "Negative feelings? That's underselling it."

"Let him speak," the other angel rebukes. He looks at Castiel. "Proceed."

"I want to help," Castiel says. "No. I need to help. I'm not ignorant of my crimes against Heaven and the Host. I want to fix what I can."

The angels exchange a look. His sister raises her eyebrows. His brother appears hesitant, quickly looks at Castiel, then back at his sister. He nods, and they both step forward. They approach Castiel until they are less than a foot away.

His sister says, "You can help. Heaven is far from what it once was merely eight years ago. But you can help. We need all the power we can get in cleaning it up."

Relief washes over Castiel. There is something he can do. There is something he can fix. There are some wrongs he can right. "Tell me," Castiel says. "I will do anything."

"You don't have to do much," his sister says sharply, and the feeling of wrongness shoots through Castiel's gut.

But before Castiel can act on this instinct, his brother and sister each grab one of his arms. "What are you doing?" Castiel asks sharply.

"Taking what little value you have left," his sister replies, brandishing her blade.

Castiel squirms, but it's no use. He's not stronger than two of his siblings. Not two at once. Not while he's unprepared. This was a very stupid decision. He shouldn't have come here.