When it's time to exchange the rings, Dean turns slightly, looking back down the aisle both he and Cas walked down earlier. There at the end with Ellen looking a little harried behind him, is their three-year-old.
He's dressed in a tiny little tux and Dean remembers when they first tried him in it—Cas was practically in tears and Dean will admit he wasn't far behind.
He's still a little wobbly on his legs, and Dean's heart melts as he watches his kid—his kid!—toddle towards them with a small royal blue pillow clutched in his grip.
On top of the pillow are their rings, they didn't go for anything fancy, a simple gold band from the outside, the inside engraved with happiness is in the being.
The nerves in Dean's stomach etch up a notch when Jack finally gets to them, a few coos of cuteness from the small audience. This is real, they are real. The first day to the rest of their lives, though Dean knows its not really going to change.
They've loved each other for a very long time, even the days when they didn't know it. This wedding is just signing their names to it, exchanging rings and sealing it with a kiss. The last deal they'll ever need to make requiring a kiss. (Though the number of kisses they'll exchange in the future will be in the thousands).
"Dadas!" Jack squeals, holding up the pillow.
Castiel leans down, kissing Jack on the top of his head and untying the green ribbon holding the rings in place. Dean's handed one of them and he looks to Cas with a wide grin.
Cas is handsome everyday, but today? He's beautiful. There's a particular glow about him that he's not sure he's seen before. It suits him, he's radiating happiness, just like their rings suggest.
The celebrant goes on and Dean misses some of what they say but Cas is taking his hand, smiling at him, reaching all the way to his blue eyes which are a little watery already.
"I do," Castiel says confidently, sliding the ring onto Dean's finger.
"And do you, Dean Winchester, take Castiel to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
Dean feels giddy. His voice stuck in his throat.
He swallows. "I do." The ring slides onto Cas' finger as perfect as he needs it to be.
"You may now kiss your husband," is the next thing Dean registers, their newly ringed hands coming up to one another's faces.
Dean's other hand goes behind Castiel's back pulling him in impossibly close. They stop for air after a moment. "I love you." Dean whispers before they part to complete the ceremony.
Jack goes between them both as they walk back down their aisle. His hand tiny in Dean's and he babbles with happiness.
"Daddies happy!" he yells and Dean can't help but laugh and Castiel scoops him up on to his him so Dean can hold his hand.
As the reach the doors to the hall, Dean leans in to kiss him again. Jack comes in too with his poorly coordinated kiss but they both smile nonetheless.
The Impala is waiting for them—Bobby leaving a few mins earlier to drive her up and leave her idling for them.
Jack stays with Bobby. Dean drives, with Castiel in the passenger seat, just married written in chalk pen across the back window and tin cans tied the the back. Dean's too happy to let it bother him.
They're driving now. They're both happy, both got what they want and need and ready for whatever they face in their future.
Dean looks across to Castiel who's gazing out the window at the dying sun as it streaks reds and oranges across the sky.
“Hey.” Sam tilts his chin in the direction over Dean’s shoulder. “2 o’clock.”
Dean glances over his shoulder. Cas, who is sitting next to him in the booth, likewise cranes his head, albeit a little more obviously because the newly human ex-angel still has no sense of manners.
He knows what Sam is gesturing to immediately: brunette, leggy, skirt on the northside of too short. He distinctly remembers the predatory face she made when he asked her back to his hotel room.
“Didn’t you hook up with her last time we were in town?” Sam asks in a hushed voice.
Dean pokes a fork at his scrambled eggs. “Uh, yeah. I think so.”
“Well, go talk to her!”
“Why the hell would I do that?”
Sam scoffs, giving him the Younger Sibling Incredulous Look. “Didn’t you say you liked her?”
“You’re right, Sam. I did like her. So naturally, the next step is me getting down on one knee and saying I want to have her babies.”
Cas scrunches his forehead. “I have two questions.”
“Colloquialisms, Cas,” Dean says shortly. He stabs a sausage link and savagely chews it, pointing his fork in Sam’s direction. “I got a rule and you know that. I don’t double-dip. Comes with the job.”
To Cas’s confused expression, Sam explains, “He means he never sleeps with someone twice, or he might catch feelings.” Cas continues to stare. Sam adds, “Fall in love.”
“Why would that be bad?” Cas asks.
“Have you seen our profession?” Dean scoffs. “Ain’t for me, that whole thing. But sex is good,” he adds with an especially leering grin.
Sam groans into his coffee. “You’re gross.”
“Love is bad,” Cas says musingly. He takes a bite of his waffle drenched in syrup. “I think I understand.”
“No, just—” Dean sighs. “Forget it. Maybe when you’re more human it’ll click.”
Cas looks at him curiously as he chews. Dean needs to look away.
* * *
“There’s too much of your mother in you,” John used to say.
Too much empathy.
Too much love.
It’s what got her killed, after all.
* * *
“You know, you need to define it. Whatever it is.”
There’s movement by the barn door that catches Dean’s eye; it’s only a flash of bird’s wings glinting in the dark. He makes a noncommittal sound and sinks further into his seat, the leather creaking.
“Seriously, Dean,” Sam continues, “it’s not healthy. For either of you.”
If that creepy farmer guy comes back, that’s their man, Dean decides. He’s never trusted anyone with a limp, anyway.
“Dean.”
“I heard ya,” Dean barks. “Are you going to focus on this case or not?”
“We need to talk about this.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong. We don’t.” Dean squints in the dark, sees a hobbling figure approaching the barn, a familiar and stolen spell book in his hands. “Knew it was him.”
“I just worry about you.” Sam loads and cocks a gun. “Both of you.”
“It’s our business, Sam. Drop it.” Dean opens the Impala’s door, the hinges protesting. “You take his right, I’ll take the left.”
* * *
Kissing Cas is second nature now. It’s not like the awkward fumbling when they first slammed together, stuffing themselves into a supply closet so Sam wouldn’t find them, hands shaking and Dean’s ass being poked by a broom as Cas pressed desperately against him.
Kissing him, in fact, is easy: Dean’s gotten used to the texture of Cas’s lips (soft but unyielding), the way that he can make Cas hitch a surprised breath (biting his lower lip with a soft graze of his teeth), the feeling of Cas’s warm hands pressing against Dean’s back.
Even the sex has gotten easy.
But then there’s the after: where Cas sits on the edge of Dean’s bed, adjusting his tie against his open collar, frowning at the ground. The pause has become longer and longer, before he finally stands and leaves the room with a soft, “Goodnight, Dean.”
And Dean’s eyes are beginning to linger on the closed door longer than they should.
* * *
“What do you want to do as a human, Cas? Anything. Name one thing.”
Cas looks up from his cereal, hair sticking up in impossible ways and squinting at Sam. “More sleep sounds amenable.”
Sam’s laugh bounces across the kitchen’s tiles. “No, something fun that you couldn’t do as an angel. It’s time to get out and find something you like.”
“Like eating crappy diner food,” Dean suggests across the table.
“Or starting a garden,” Sam adds.
“Or eating crappy pizza.”
“Or biking.”
“Or setting the record for eating the biggest cheeseburger.”
Sam flicks a spoon at Dean’s arm. Dean leans back in his chair and grins.
Looking between them, Cas frowns. “I’m not sure what activities there are to do as a human.”
Dean says, “No wrong choice.” He considers for a moment. “Well, except all of Sam’s suggestions.”
Sam huffs a frustrated breath.
“Maybe biking?” Cas says, tentatively. “I’ve seen that activity before, and it looks enjoyable.”
“We don’t have bikes, Cas,” Dean says.
“But we can rent some!” Sam says, pulling out his phone and waving it wildly. “Wichita has a bike sharing program now! You can go anywhere in the city!”
“Oh, goody,” Dean says.
The drive to Wichita is mind-numbing, teaching Cas how to even balance on a bike is time-consuming. But finally, after the hundred or so time of Dean lightly pushing Cas’s back to give him a pedaling start, Cas stays upright rather than collapsing to the ground.
Dean feels stupid for being in a flannel and boots on a bicycle. Sam keeps reaching over and pinching Dean’s cheek while they’re riding. But then they get to a tall hill overlooking the city skyline, sun setting on the backdrop, and Cas turns around to smile all sweaty and bright-eyed at Dean, the happiest Dean’s seen him in well, ever, and Dean can’t suppress an answering smile.
Looking back, maybe that’s the moment he knew.
But maybe his heart rate was only fast from the exercise, and his lightheaded, dizzy feeling was him not having enough to eat or the heat getting to him.
Maybe.
* * *
Dean didn’t intend to overhear it. Cas and the old guy they were interviewing was in the next room, and Dean was in the tiny corner kitchen. The old man’s house was dated, sure, but Dean didn’t expect the walls to be practically paper.
“You know what’s most important in the world, son?” asks the man’s fuzzy baritone.
Cas falters, says, “Uh… no. What’s most important?”
“Love. That’s what.”
Dean rolls his eyes. They weren’t going to get anything about the neighborhood poltergeist out of this guy. His brain obviously flew into the cuckoo’s nest a long time ago.
“Oh,” Cas replies. “I see.”
“When you have something to hold onto that you love, or someone, then it makes life that much more worth it. If a dying old man like me can tell you anything, let it be that. You know what I’m saying?”
Dean’s not sure why he’s holding his breath; especially not sure why his chest constricts to a painful pitch when Cas replies, softly, “I don’t have much experience with what you’re describing.”
“Maybe you will one day,” the old man says.
Dean stares down at the countertop, chipped and broken at the edges.
“Maybe,” Cas tonelessly replies.
* * *
He didn’t mean for it to happen.
It just kind of snuck up on him and happened.
Over time, Cas’s smiles began chain-reacted a fuzzy feeling in his throat. Cas’s rarely-heard laugh made his skin feel like it was on fire. Cas’s hands simply skimming over Dean’s bare skin made him feel like every cell and molecule that made up Dean was reaching for Cas, begging for more.
Even Cas’s eyes holding his made his stomach do flip-flops.
He didn’t mean for it to happen.
He didn’t mean to break his own rule.
* * *
“What is this?” Dean asks between kisses. It’s dark but he can imagine the stunned look on Cas’s face.
Cas was never one to bullshit. He says, plainly, “I don’t know.”
Dean threads his hand through Cas’s thick hair, tugs a little tighter so he’ll forget Dean’s moment of weakness. They fall back onto the bed.
* * *
“You’re a lot like Mom, you know,” Sam just comes out and says one day. Over reading a book, while sipping his coffee, like it’s no big deal.
Dean puts down his phone. Asks in a steady voice, “What?”
“She didn’t want the job either. Wanted different things.” Sam pauses. “Like a family.”
“Why the hell are you telling me this?”
Sam looks at him with way too much meaning in his eyes. “You know why.”
Too much of your mother in you.
Dean pushes against the table to stand and leaves the room.
* * *
I love you.
It’d be so easy to let it tumble out of him; to recklessly plunge headfirst off that cliff without knowing if anything would catch him.
Instead he presses it soundlessly into Cas’s skin with his lips, his hands, his fingers—I love you, I love you. And I’m terrified.
He’s worried he’s being too loud when Cas looks at him with endlessly blue eyes, seeming to respond, I know.
* * *
There’s too much blood on the floor, and Cas’s eyes are too glassy. Dean tears out of his shirt, pressing it against Cas’s wound, but there’s not enough to hold it in, not enough to stop the very essence of Cas leaking out of him—
“It’s fine.” Cas’s voice is raspy. He holds Dean’s wrist in a weak fist. “Stop, Dean.”
Dean presses the shirt harder against the wound. Cas’s eyes grab his and hold them there.
“You knew this would happen eventually.”
“No I didn’t,” Dean whispers. “I didn’t.”
“It’s the profession, Dean. You said it yourself.”
“No,” Dean says.
“Let me go.”
Dean wakes up with a harsh gasp. It takes endless moments of harsh breathing against his pillow to get his heart rate to slow.
He walks down the hall to the room where Cas sleeps. He puts a hand on the knob; hears Cas roll over on the bed inside, the bedsprings groaning.
It’s unclear how long he stands there, forehead pressed against the cool wood of the door, counting Cas’s breaths.
Cas isn’t in danger, Dean tells himself.
Not right now.
* * *
He takes Cas to a lake, because he remembers Cas saying that he misses the ocean. It’s close enough.
It’s a cold fall day, the nearby trees drooping with golden leaves, so it makes no sense to be at a beach. But Cas seems to love it. Dean opts to sit on the sand and watch Cas dip his bare toes into the gentle lapping water.
When Cas gets too cold they huddle under a blanket, shoulder to shoulder, and watch the sun sleepily dip in the horizon.
“What do you think is the most important thing in the world?” Cas asks.
“Pie,” Dean automatically replies. “Maybe burgers.”
“Be serious,” Cas demands.
Dean sighs, his breath dancing in front of him. The sun is nearly gone; they’ll have to drive back soon or Sam will have a hissy fit. He gets bitchy when Dean’s not there to make him dinner after his afternoon run.
“Dean.” Cas pokes a gentle finger into Dean’s side.
“Uh.” Dean blows into one of his hands to make it warmer. “People. Family. Love, I guess.”
Cas nods. He squints into the dying sunlight. “Falling in love can be bad, though,” he says quietly, so soft that if Dean weren’t centimeters away, he’d miss it.
“Sometimes,” Dean agrees.
They stand, brushing the sand off their jeans, and walk back to the Impala.
* * *
That night, Dean drags out every moment: every kiss, every caress, every push and pull of his hips against Cas’s.
Cas gasps, and Dean swallows the sound with his lips. Every nerve in him feels like a firecracker ready to burst. In all his life, he’s never been so focused one one human being, on one beautiful, devastating, terrifying ex-angel sprawled underneath him.
Too much empathy.
Too much goddamn love.
When Cas leaves his bedroom, like he always does, Dean decides he needs to keep liquor in his room.
* * *
“You don’t look like you’re getting a lot of sleep. Neither does Cas.”
Dean knows. Doesn’t need the reminder.
“Have you guys talked it out yet? Whatever is going on between you?”
If they did, maybe there’d be more sleeping.
* * *
So it goes, Vonnegut wrote. Dean remembers dissecting that line in high school English, reading way more analyses than what was required for the assignment.
A nod to the existential. At death that inevitably comes.
Dean wonders if it could apply to love, too.
“I’m going to stop coming to your room,” Cas says to Dean.
Jesus Christ, Sam is sitting right there, Dean wants to say. Instead he stares, forkful of spaghetti halfway to his mouth.
“I’m gonna go… research,” Sam says, fumbling with his chair and vacating the kitchen.
Cas and Dean stare at each other.
“I’m going to stop coming to your room,” Cas says again.
“No, I—I heard you.” Dean puts down his fork. “I just. Why?”
Cas laces his hands in front of him. “When we began our physical relationship, I thought it was of benefit to you. You seemed happier and more relaxed. However, the past few weeks have taken the opposite toll. You seem anxious and the circles under your eyes are a clear indication you’re not getting a good rest. So I think it’s best if we stop.”
There’s a simmering in Dean’s gut. “You. You want to.” He clenches his fist against his knee. “You want to end this because I look tired?”
“No. I want to end this because you look like someone died every time after we have sex.”
“So fucking dramatic,” Dean scoffs. He stands and grabs his plate roughly off the table. “Well, if you wanna end it, fine by me. Just stop coming to my room.”
“All right,” Dean hears Cas say behind him.
Dean stands at the sink for a moment. The simmering pitches to a full-blown boil. He throws the plate in the sink, ceramic shattering. He whirls around to see Cas, staring, wide-eyed. “Seriously, Cas? Seriously?”
“Seriously what?” Cas volleys.
“How can you act like it’s nothing? Over and over—Jesus.” Dean pinches the bridge of his nose. “I should have known better, I really should have but I—every fucking time, it’s the same.”
Cas stands. “I’m not acting like it’s nothing.”
“Yes you goddamn are. Every night, you leave. Every morning, you act like nothing happened. Even now you’re just calmly ending the thing like it was a business transaction. Even as a human you’re as emotionless as a goddamn rock.”
“That’s not fair,” Cas says, his face contorting.
“Then tell me I’m wrong,” Dean shouts. “Tell me this all meant something to you.”
Cas is still like stone, just staring, so Dean scoffs, “That’s what I thought,” and makes his quick exit.
He’s halfway down the hallway when something grabs his shoulders, pushes him into the wall. Cas leans in close.
“You don’t understand,” he says. “You never did. I feel—I do feel.”
Dean whispers, on the precipice of something he doesn’t want to name, “Then why did you leave every goddamn time?”
Cas tilts his head. “Falling in love is bad,” he says. “I understand. Now that I’m more human, I understand.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Dean chokes out.
Too much of your mother in you.
“How did you mean it?”
He can’t do this now. Not with Cas staring at him like this. Like he’s the singular most important person in the world. “I’m scared,” he says. “I could lose you.”
“I could lose you.” Cas holds Dean’s shoulders tight. “But I love you all the same.”
Dean shakes his head. Says softly in the space between them, “That’s too much love.”
“No such thing,” Cas insists, capturing Dean’s mouth with his, not letting him give anymore excuses.
* * *
They lie in Dean’s bed, simply holding each other. It’s warm. Dean likes the way that Cas is playing with his hair, likes the feeling of Cas’s breath on his cheek.
“What is this?” Dean asks. Afraid to, but does it anyway.
“Whatever you want it to be.”
Dean frowns. Grabs Cas’s hand and winds his fingers tight around him. “Don’t leave tonight.”
Cas presses a kiss into Dean’s hair. “I never will.”
bro i just postponed my shower by 20 min bc i had the urge to write about jealous dean in 15.13 so here you go please enjoy despite it being rushed
"This is so strange,” Dean breathes out, his brow slightly furrowed. He watches impatiently at the scene in front of him as some form of frustration begins to creep up his arms.
Sam, who has just begun to adjust and accept the alternate version of himself, simply shrugs in response. Sure, he also has his own ambiguous feelings towards the situation, but, knowing better, Sam’s wildly aware of how such a situation was something squarely in their ballpark.
Dean shakes his head again, shuffling on his feet. “This is so messed up,” he repeats, the frustration beginning to affect him more.
Sam turns, throwing an eye at his older brother. “I mean, yeah,” he says, studying the other hunter carefully. “But it’s our type of strange, dude. I’m not that surprised.”
The words don’t seem to comfort Dean. Instead, the hunter shifts even more, looking at his brother once before scoffing and rolling his eyes.
Sam frowns, throwing a look at the scene in front of them. The two alternate Winchesters were at the dinner table, next to Cas, the three of them sharing a lighthearted conversation. Turning to see the deeper scowl on his brother’s face, Sam’s worry starts to kick in. “Dean, what’s wrong?”
Nothing. Dean says nothing, and Sam sees nothing.
It takes a few moments before the older lets out the breath he was holding in the form of a forced chuckle. “Nothing Sammy,” Dean tries to explain, waving his hand around exaggeratedly. “You’re right, this is our type of weird. I was just hung up on nothing.”
Sam tries to open his mouth to interject, only to be interrupted by Dean walking past him and straight to the beer shelf.
Sam knows Dean’s excuse is bullshit.
Dean knows that Sam knows he’s just bullshitting.
Yet, he can’t help to do so.
What’s wrong? Where does Dean start?
How does he explain to Sam what’s wrong with the way the other Dean is looking at Cas, throwing bright, loving eyes in the angel’s direction as if it were only the two of them in the room.
How does he explain to Sam what’s wrong with the way the other Dean is talking to Cas, calling him silly pet names such as “Darling” and “Angel” as he literally drools over the angel.
How does he explain to Sam what’s wrong with the way the other Dean cozies up to Cas, invading the other’s personal space, becoming closer and closer with each story he brings up, all of it being a tactic to maintain the angel’s attention whilst he has a chance to creep up nearer and nearer.
How does he explain to Sam that he’s wary of the other Dean and his intentions with Cas. How does he explain to Sam that he never trusted his other self the minute he invaded their home with his disgusting Fiat and revolting reaction to seeing their his Cas for the first time.
How does he explain any of this?
“Cas, darling, you should know, one of our hunter friends is a beekeeper, and he gives us freshly harvested honey whenever we stop by.”
Cas blinks in response, a smile forming on his face. Dean wants to throw up. “Wow,” the angel says, the excitement clear in his voice. Dean’s urge to throw up increases. “Dean, that’s amazing. You know, I used to really be into bees.”
The alternate Dean grins brightly and gives Cas a nudge in the shoulder.
“Well, if you ever need honey anytime soon, you know who to call,” he speaks softly with a wink.
Dean freezes from afar. The bastard.
Taking a swig of his beer, Dean slams the bottle onto the metal surface in front of him. “We have a shit ton of honey already. Don’t need anymore,” he grumbles loudly. And with that, he walks storms out of the room, unable to watch anymore.
Halfway through his beeline to his room, Dean pushes down the urge to go back and check up on Cas the rest of them.
Yeah, he wonders, entering his room with the fresh feeling of regret of leaving his beer behind. How do I explain any of that?
spotify tells me that my most listened song of the year is Almost (Sweet Music) by Hozier, which I find hilarious because I played it a lot for about six days in August and then didn’t really listen to it much again, so I must have absolutely lost my mind for it so much more than I thought in those six days. it’s a great song though, I stand by what I did.
9. Best month for you this year?
god it feels weird honestly to try to think about a best month of 2020, even though good things did happen this year (good things do happen, em?). I’m going to say maybe February? my D&D group came together in February I think, and I also think that was the month I got a job at a museum not too far from where I live. time is fluid and if those things didn’t happen in February, now they did. they happened in the February of my heart.
23. If you could send a message to yourself back on the first day of the year, what would it be?
hmm, another message for my past self! I might actually just say “y yo a ti, Cas”, and that’s it. because I’d have no idea what it meant until suddenly I did, and maybe I’d go even more bananas about the whole thing. :D
Summary: Set post 13x06 (Tombstone). Castiel just came back from the Empty. Jack left the bunker and now Cas is ready to leave to find him.
Author’s note: I’m a first time writer; honestly this is not what I do! So please ignore my mistakes! It’s an angsty with a happy ending CODA and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it.
———————-
It’s extraordinary the things you can accomplish once you put your mind to it. At the time, Cas had little hope that his plan to escape the Empty would work. He never thought he had it in him. He took a gamble and now he’s out of that dark place, the void, leaving behind the worst parts of himself in the Empty. All his time on Earth, and the Winchesters, taught him to fight for what you want and when the time came, Cas knew what he had to do.
Sitting in his car, still parked in the bunker’s huge parking lot, he’s desperate to do anything he can to find Jack and save him from everybody; the demons, the Angels and probably himself. After Jack vanished, Cas and the Winchesters tried every lead they had to track the nephilim, but he’s surprisingly good at staying under the radar, considering he’s only been here for a few weeks. Jack was so angry and hurt when he left and Cas feels responsible. How could he let this happen? Jack was his responsibility and he had made a promise to Kelly that he would protect her son no matter what and teach him everything he can about embracing the human side of him. And now Jack’s gone and Cas doesn’t know what to do. He’s helpless at the moment and he can only hope the Angels haven’t gotten a hold of him, or worse, Asmodeus’ demons. He can tell Jack’s a good kid from the little time he’s spent with him. After all it was Jack who woke him up in the Empty.
He knows he should start the car and start moving but there’s something that’s eating him up. He wishes he still had his wings and he could just zap himself anywhere but it’s his fault that the angels fell. It was a trap, and he fell for it like a fool. Just like he thought he could help by letting Lucifer in. Dean tells him that it wasn’t his fault; that he was only trying to help but Cas still feels guilty for everything. He wishes he could be of help, and not just be a screw-up. Whenever he tries to do the right thing, he fails, and that burden, that failure is absolutely crushing him every moment of his existence because he’s hurting everyone around him. He doesn’t know how to fix it. Nothing seems to work in his favour and he’s starting to feel like he shouldn’t be anywhere near Sam and Dean for their own well-being. He’s never told them about this, but he feels like if he does, they’ll agree with him. He is broken, and he knows it. He doesn’t know how to get rid of this feeling. Feelings. He has feelings now and no way to cope with them. It feels strange, to be a cosmic being, an angel who’s fallen in every way possible. Ever since he experienced what it like is to be human, it has always stayed with him. His compassion, his morality, the taste of PB&J, a slight feeling of belonging, and most importantly, his feelings for Dean. But he also felt the pain, the guilt, the feeling of hopelessness, his inadequacy and his failures. It still haunts him to this day and he doesn’t know how to make it stop.
It’s time to leave his thoughts behind and get going, he tells himself. He told the Winchesters he will check with the Angels if they had any information that can help him find Jack and bring him home. Dean wanted to join him, but he can’t let that happen. He can’t let Dean accompany him. He’s only been back a couple of days and they haven’t even had a chance to talk. And with everything that’s going on, Cas can’t focus on anything else but Jack, no matter how much he wants to stay at the bunker, his home. Home. Not in heaven, not with the Angels, but with Dean, with Sam, his family. He still doesn’t know if it’s true but that’s what Dean always says, and Cas wants to believe it, so bad, but he’s not able to.
The day Castiel saved Dean Winchester from hell was the day this one insignificant human became his mission. He would do such things for him that he didn’t know he was capable of doing. He was a warrior of heaven, always following his orders, always being the best at his job, and always fighting for what’s righteous. He never thought anyone could change that; anyone, let alone a human. Dean Winchester changed everything for Castiel. For starters, he became “Cas”. He’s always liked his nickname, the one Dean gave him. And Cas loves it. Dean. Dean. Dean. He can never get him out of his head. He remembers it all, right from the beginning to where they are now. He was just a “hammer” as Dean says, not caring about anyone or anything. And then he started having doubts, all because of him. He wouldn’t have been able to help stop heaven’s dirty plan had it not been for everything he learnt from Dean - his mission, his friend, his best friend and now, his family.
He will never forget the day he woke up in the Empty. It was pitch black, nothing to see and nowhere to go. How poetic, Cas thought. After everything he’s done, he probably deserves it. An eternity of solitude and unrest, nothing but his memories to accompany him. And then just when he thought he was all alone, he found someone. It called itself “the Empty” but it looked just like his vessel. How can he forget looking in its eyes and seeing his worst fears, and the most terrible part of him staring back at him? Everything the Empty told him was true, or it seemed true at that moment, and Cas was on the verge of giving up, but he didn’t. Because somewhere along he realized that he’s not worthless. He has a family on Earth. Sam and Dean may be damaged but they love him. He had to get back to them and be the guardian angel that he’s always been. And now there’s Jack too, he’s Cas’ mission now, after Dean, he has a cause and he just cannot abandon him. He can’t give up.
And just like that, he was out. The sun shone on him again and he was free. He called Dean; he’ll always be the first phone call Cas makes. And look how happy Dean was to have him back! How can he ever doubt him? That he doesn’t love him? But he will never ask Dean about it. He will never read his mind. And he will never act on his feelings for him. He’s still an angel and Dean’s not. Why did it have to be like this? His time as a human taught him so much about them - about their feelings, about food, about pain and heartbreak, but most importantly, about love. Love that he felt in his heart, his soul and his whole body, love for Dean. His soul ached for Dean’s comfort, his warmth. All he wanted was to stay with him, be with him and hold him close. But he didn’t know it would be this hard. Dean told him to leave just when he needed him the most. And that was the first time he could hear his pulse racing, his body numb and every atom in his being telling him to scream at Dean and ask him, how he could do that to his friend?
He got lost in thought again. And in fact, he’s so lost that he doesn’t even hear footsteps coming down from the bunker. He looks to his right and watches as Dean’s rushing towards him, waving him to stop the car. Cas stops the ignition and gets out of the car, all confused and worried. Did something happen to Sam? Why would Dean be in such a rush to stop him otherwise? Dean reaches the car, and puts his hands on his knees, panting, gesturing to Cas to give him a second to catch his breath. That moment Cas is reminded again that he is an immortal being and he’ll never grow old, but Dean is not. He will age, and he will one day, leave him. He puts a hand on the hunter’s shoulder and asks him with concern, “Dean, what’s wrong? Is Sam okay?”
“He’s fine. Listen. I know you told me to not come with you but I don’t care. I’m coming with. Can’t let you get yourself into trouble again.”
“Dean. I’m an Angel. I know how to handle myself.”
Dean felt a flash of irritation followed by a moment of grief. He remembers what it was like with Cas gone.
“Are you sure? Because from what I remember, last time it got you killed. And I can’t let that happen again!”
Dean is staring at him like he’s about to murder him. Cas could see Dean is running on sheer anger now. He decides to reason with him. He knew there’s no point arguing with him right now. He takes a long breath and speaks calmly.
“I was trying to protect you and Sam. You know that.”
“Cas, I don’t care. I’m coming with you and that’s it.”
“Dean, please. Let me do this. I owe it to Kelly. Jack was my responsibility and I’ve already ruined it once when I died. I can’t wreck it again.”
Dean looks away and takes a step towards the driver’s seat to open the door, and looks back at him and speaks with conviction in his voice.
“That’s what I’m saying, Cas. I can’t let you get yourself killed again. I just can’t. I watched you die. I won’t let that happen again. Ever. So you get your ass back in your crappy car and we’ll do this together.”
Cas takes a step back. He doesn’t know how to stop Dean. Again, nothing works. Dean can be so stubborn. Why wouldn’t he just back off this once?
“Why do you care so much Dean? What if you get killed while you’re trying to protect me? What will I tell Sam? I can’t live with that guilt for the rest of eternity. I can’t take that chance. So if I die, I die. I deserve it. I’ve just made everything worse for you. I don’t want Sam to lose his brother because he’s trying to save me.”
Dean can’t believe Cas just said that. He looks at his angel with a resolve. He’s determined to stop him and he will. He’s not going to leave Cas on his own again. He’s always had trouble talking about his feelings, no chick flick moments, but not today. Cas just came back from the dead, again. Dean can’t lose him now. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.
“Cas, can we talk about this?”
“What is there to talk about, Dean?”
“I know I haven’t always been there for you, especially when you lost your grace and you needed me the most. I was a dick to you. I still am sometimes. But you’re my best friend and I care about you, man. I need you!”
Dean takes a step towards Cas. It’s been a few seconds since he stopped talking but Cas hasn’t said anything. Dean can feel the tension building, he can see the beautiful ocean blue eyes staring at him, and the pain they bring with them, something he never noticed before. Cas is the first one to break eye contact, he looks down and then looks back at Dean. In all the time he has known Cas, he’s never seen him like this.
“Cas? Say something?”
“I don’t know how to make you understand, Dean. It’s not just about that. I can’t stay here. I want to, I do, but I can’t. You don’t understand, you never will. And I can’t blame you for it. It’s better if I go. Let me go, please.”
“Too bad. I’m not going to let you just leave like that. So try me.”
“Dean, please. Don’t force me.”
“I’m not forcing you. I just want to know what’s wrong. So tell me, I want to know.”
“You don’t understand the consequences it can have if I tell you. It can be catastrophic! I can’t risk it, Dean!” Cas raises his voice.
“Damn it, Cas! Why can’t you just talk to me? Can’t you see I’m trying to help you? You’re my best friend!”
Dean pauses for a moment, collecting himself. “You’re more important to me than you think, Cas. Can’t you see that?”
“What…?”
“I… I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t understand anything. All I know is that when I lost you, I thought it was final and I tried to bring you back, I tried! I prayed to Chuck, I begged him to bring you back, to bring mom back, but nothing happened! There were days when I didn’t want to live without you in my life. I didn’t know what to do!”
Dean moves closer now, and Cas can see the tears forming up in his eyes. Just when he’s about to say something, Dean raises his hands and cradles his angel’s face gently, his thumbs caressing his cheeks.
“Cas. I don’t understand how it happened, I don’t know when it happened, but now you’re back by some miracle and I have to tell you. You are my everything. I’m not losing you again okay? Now you better tell me everything that’s going on.”
“Dean… I don’t know what to say, or how to say it. I’m not human and I’m not allowed to feel anything. But the day I met you, everything changed. I rebelled, I constantly went against my kind and now I don’t have a home. I’m neither an Angel nor a human. You and Sam are my friends but look where that got you. I always bring trouble and when I can’t even protect myself, how will I protect you?”
“You have a home, Cas. This is your home. I’m your home. I want you to stay here with me. I don’t care about anything else!”
“Dean, please. You have to understand that we don’t belong together. We can’t. I don’t belong anywhere. I’m an outsider and I always will be.”
Cas cannot let this happen. Dean must understand. He can’t risk his life. He can’t be with him. He gently moves Dean’s hands away from his face and turns his back on him.
Dean won’t let this go. It took him so many years to finally realize how he feels. So much time wasted, so many missed opportunities. He goes around Cas to face him. He won’t back down, and this will not be the end. Cas is not even looking at him, but he will make him.
“Cas. I love you. I’m in love with you.”
Cas looks up at Dean, astonished to hear these words.
“I want to be with you. You get it? I want to spend the rest of my life with you and only you. You’re not an outsider to me, Cas. You’re my family. You’ll always be. You can never hurt me or Sam. You belong with me.”
“You deserve someone better than me, Dean. You deserve to be happy.”
“I deserve you. You make me happy. I dare you to take that away from me.”
Castiel smiles. Dean Winchester is stubborn.
“Now let’s go upstairs and tell Sam, he’s been waiting! And after that, we’ll go and find Jack, the three of us. We’re better together.”
———————-
If you read it all, thank you from the bottom of my heart :’D Please don’t hesitate to leave comments, I would love love love to know what you thought about this :)
Thank you @dochollidayed & @bend-me-shape-me for all your input and being so effin’ patient with me :’)
Castiel knows nothing about cars, so when his tire goes flat on a back road in the middle of absolutely nowhere, his first thought is that he’s completely, undeniably screwed—cell service is practically nonexistent out here, and he hasn’t seen another car in over an hour. In light of this, he leans against the trunk of his Hyundai and stares at the stretch of road behind it as if mere power of will could conjure aid.
A half hour later, while Castiel is hunched over his back wheel and about ready to just give up and drive on it as fucking is, there’s the growl of an engine and the loud thump of classic rock; Castiel shoves himself up, knees groaning in protest, and waves the car down. It’s a beautiful mass of gleaming black metal, and as it rolls to a stop on on the shoulder, he notes that its driver is no less stunning—a young man is at the wheel, tan and freckled, with the most captivating green eyes Castiel has ever seen.
He learns that the man’s name is Dean, and that he was more or less born with a wrench in his hand—he changes the flat out for the spare in under five minutes; when he’s finished, he stands, wiping his hands off on his shirt, and says in no uncertain terms, “Normally I’d charge 15 or 20 bucks for somethin’ like that, but how ‘bout you buy me a drink instead and we call it even?”
Castiel looks at the curve of Dean’s lips, quirked into a sideways grin, and thinks that sounds more than fair.
Castiel walks slowly to his room. His beaten face stings, but it's nothing compared to the ache in his chest.
Dean Winchester is still missing.
It feels like blasphemy to 'take the night off' as Sam had suggested, but Cas knows he's in no shape to travel. He's been running himself ragged for the past three weeks, hunting down any scrap of information he could find, any whisper of Dean's whereabouts. So far, he'd found nothing, and that hurts worse than any beating.
He enters his room, head bowed, and closes the door behind him.
It's only then that he senses the presence inside the room. He looks up, hand instantly calling for his blade, but then he stills when his eyes land on the figure standing calmly in the center of the room.
"Dean," Cas breathes. For a moment, he feels nothing but overwhelming relief, but that chills instantly when 'Dean' gives him a cold smile.
"Guess again," Micheal says. Cas's heart clenches painfully in his chest and he glares. If he looks, he can see the light of the archangel inside Dean's body, beautiful and terrible and cold, completely eclipsing the light of Dean's soul.
"What do you want?" Cas asks. He weighs his options. If he can get Micheal talking, perhaps he'll buy himself enough time to escape the room. His own seraph's blade will do nothing against an archangel and Sam had hidden Gabriel's blade elsewhere in the bunker. Castiel knows he's not capable of taking down Micheal on his own, especially while trying to keep Dean alive in the process.
Micheal, he's sure, has no such compunction about keeping Cas alive.
"I believe that's my line," Micheal says. He steps closer, sizing Cas up. "But with you... I don't even need to ask."
"What do you mean?" Cas asks, tensing as Micheal draws even closer.
"I've heard a lot about you, Castiel," Micheal says. "What few angels this world has left... they fear you."
Cas flinches, guilt and sorrow rising like bile in his throat.
"The demons, too," Micheal continues. "The monsters... everyone knows about the 'guardian angel' on the Winchesters' shoulders."
"Make your point," Cas snaps. He knows his own, bloody history. He doesn't need a lesson in it. Micheal smiles.
"Your Micheal was weak. He only cared about defeating his Lucifer and was content to let this world rot," Micheal says. "He's not known to the creatures of this world the way I made myself known to mine. The sound of my name made grown men weep, and yet here... I am little more than a boogeyman."
"What does that have to do with me?" Cas asks, though deep in the pit of his stomach, he knows.
"You are known to them," Micheal says. "'Micheal' may be a distant concept, but Castiel is a known threat."
"You want me to join you," Cas says, disbeliving.
"Yes," Micheal says. Cas bristles.
"Why would I-" he starts, but Micheal interrupts.
"I can give you what you want."
Cas pauses. He looks at Micheal with narrowed eyes.
"Oh really?" he asks flatly. "And what is it that I want? My wings? Heaven to be restored? Peace on Earth?"
Micheal waves a hand dismissively.
"No, I mean what you really want," Micheal says. He spreads his arms in a welcoming manner. "I can give you Dean."
"You'll let him go?" Cas asks, stunned. And, for a brief moment, he considers it.
Micheal chuckles.
"No, unfortunately I still require this vessel," he says. He studies Castiel for a moment. "But I can give you everything else."
"What?" Cas asks. Micheal moves closer still, now well within Cas's personal space, but Cas doesn't move back. He feels like a mouse cornered by the serpent; one move, one sign of weakness, and the viper will strike.
"I could kiss you," Micheal offers. He reaches out a hand and strokes Castiel's cheek gently. "I could touch you the way you wish he would. I could make him yours and you wouldn't even know the difference."
As if to demonstrate, Micheal's posture suddenly relaxes. His expression turns warm and fond and familiar and Cas's heart leaps in response.
"Cas," Dean says, bringing his other hand up to cup Cas's cheek. Dean leans in and, Father help him, but Cas doesn't move.
Dean leans his forehead against Castiel's, mouths an inch apart, the air heated between them.
"Stay with me?" Dean asks. "I'll make it good for you, Cas, I'll make it so good... Just say yes."
Cas comes back to himself. With a shameful amount of effort, he wrenches himself away.
"Let him go, Micheal," Cas says, voice breaking. Quick as a flash, the mask drops and all the warmth in Micheal's expression vanishes.
"Very well," he says. He cocks his head. "The offer is open, should you reconsider. But I am not known for my patience."
Abruptly, Micheal vanishes, leaving only the sound of fluttering wings in his wake. Cas looks around his room, heartsick and aching.
He touches a hand to his cheek. The skin is unbroken now, healed by the faintest touch of Micheal's Grace.
Cas imagines he can still feel the heat of Dean's hands.
