Castiels spent a lot of time with his boys. More than he'd ever been able to before. But that wasn't entirely by choice. Okay, maybe it was. He had insisted on keeping them when he'd divorced Annabeth, after all.

But, even as they grew a bond with their father, they often asked about their mother. They had been old enough to understand, somewhat, what had been happening. They missed her. Castiel found himself thinking of her as well. Not that he cared..

He'd been sitting with Ronan and Art, reading a book, when the knock came to his door. Who in their right minds would be visiting without notice? Or was it a messenger? Regardless, he set down the book and answered the door. His brow rose as he made eye contact with Annabeth. She looked miserable. Castiel knew that things had to have been difficult for her with her reputation tarnished. But he did his best to not think on it. His voice was cold as he spoke, as a reminder of the hurt he'd felt,

"May I help you?"

She wanted to see the boys. Of course she did. She had raised them almost entirely by herself while he'd been working. They knew her better than he. Castiel looked Annabeth over, letting his eyes fall on the child in her arms. The girl she'd given birth to when they'd begun fighting. At the time, Castiel had been unsure as to the parentage of her. But looking at her now, he definitely saw himself in her. Regardless, it didn't excuse his wife...exwife's behavior.

He crossed his arms, looking down his nose at her. "You signed away your right to them. Why do you want to see them now, after much time has passed? Why truly are you here?"

Castiel narrowed his eyes at the pitiful sight before him. "How can you say such words to me, when you destroyed me? You risked my reputation and threw it away when you were warned about your behavior. You taught me how to love just to take it away from me. And now, you attempt to bring it back? And attempt to use the children as an excuse to speak to me? How much lower can you become?"

He stepped back, starting to close the door. "Do not darken my doorway again." With that, unless she said more, he'd slam the door in her face.

His look grew impossibly colder. "You didn't prove me wrong, did you? I gave you guidelines to follow to prove to me that your words were true, even while I was on my own. And what did you do? Exactly what I claimed of you."

He leaned closer to her, just so he could reach her level. "Did you know, the day you were caught, that I was finally willing to forgive you and let things go? The time apart had given me the chance to think about what was happening, to realize that I might be wrong. Instead you proved me right. So this, all of this, is your fault. Try again to say it was me. I did not tell you to sleep with that gifted heathen, did I?"