Desolation of The Dawn

Dean Winchester has given up.

It is breaking something in deep inside Castiel, to watch the man he raised from perdition waste away into a shell of what he is.

Dean is not angry. He is not upset, or distressed, or confused, or sad. He isn't any of these things, and he is all of them. He has given up. Lucifer has Sam, and the Apocalypse is tomorrow.

Dean sits in the Impala, staring at the empty passenger seat while Bobby is inside, getting drunk. He knows that Dean intends to ride to the cemetery in the morning. If he does, he will surely die. Then again, they will all surely die soon.

There is no more hope for the world.

However, there might be hope for the small group of souls he has grown to cherish. Its the seed of a horrible, wonderful idea, and it is all Castiel has. He did not give up everything for nothing, he refuses to lose them. He waves his hand, and the Impala will never drive again, nor will any other car within seventy miles. Dean Winchester is not going anywhere.

Castiel spares his silhouette one last glance, and turns into the shadows, taking flight with half fallen wings.

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A ramshackle old house by the sea, smelling of dust and a thousand storms. The wooden floors and walls are charred by some ancient fire that has long since burned out, no furniture in the entire structure. It looks in constant danger of collapsing, but Castiel know it won't. This is where he finds Lucifer, alone, no demons or angels or humans within a thousand miles. The devil in Sam Winchester's skin leans against the large window, tracing the outline of the lightning that is striking the surface of the raging sea. It is the kind of background noise that is so complete it might as well be silence. Lucifer doesn't even acknowledge his arrival for what seems like forever, but Castiel knows better to force the issue.

Finally, the familiar eyes of a complete stranger turn on him,

"A little broken winged bird, flying straight into a tempest? What a reckless creature you are." He mused, flashing a grin.

It sends tremors down his spine, but he does not break eye contact.

"Why are you here, you pretty little fool? You cannot stop me." Lucifer says, not with pride, but in complete irrefutable truth.

Cold moonlight and shadows paint the room in striking contrast, lulling Castiel into a false sense of peace, "No, I cannot. I am not here to stop you, I am here to join you, brother." He deadpans.

Lucifer raises a eyebrow. "A little late to the tea party, aren't you?" He chuckled.

Castiel clenched his jaw. "You will gain nothing from killing me, but it may be productive to have more angels on your side than not when you turn your attentions to Heaven. I have come to swear myself completely to you, on one condition." He announced.

Lucifer looked him over, before standing straight and stalking over to him, graceful as poison and velvet.

Castiel can see now why he is called the Morningstar, now that he see's him in his true vessel. The harsh, painful light of a thousand dying stars echoes through the air as he approaches. The scent of lilac and blood is almost intoxicating.

"You're not in the condition to be making demands, little brother." He hissed, reaching up into the air behind Castiel's back and digging his fingers into the invisible essence of Castiel's weakened wings. He flinched in pain and forced himself not to pull away.

"Then kill me, and gain nothing." He shot back.

Lucifer considered this, "What do you offer, and what do you demand?" He inquired.