all that matters
9x22 coda // because I decided it needed a happier, fluffier ending considering the rest of the episode (ao3)
“Do you really believe we three will be enough?”
“We always have been,” Dean insists, flashing Cas a small smirk. He hopes that the one small gesture will convey everything he can’t explain with mere words, the confusing mix of certainty and uncertainty swirling around in his head. In response, Castiel maintains eye contact and nods his head just slightly, as if assuring himself as well as Dean.
Although he tries to believe his promise to Cas, Dean knows that it’s not completely true. The three of them have done incredible things in the past, things that any three “normal” people never would’ve been able to pull off on their own. Sure, they had an angel and a man blessed (cursed?) with the Mark of Cain on their side, but it didn’t really make a difference in the grand scheme of things. Plus, even after all of the unbelievable stunts they’d accomplished before, there had also been several failures in the midst of the victories.
Nevertheless, Dean still had faith in them. It was crazy, what with their checkered history and everything, but he believed in them. Hell, look at what Cas had done! He had just chosen him over an entire army of faithful followers, the brainwashed members of the unofficial Cult of Castiel. Having that kind of power and then throwing it away to spare one man’s life? Dean didn’t understand. Why would he choose him over something so… well, important? With that kind of following, defeating Metatron would’ve been far easier than it would be now with only good ol’ Team Free Will to carry out the job.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Dean blurted.
Castiel titled his head to the side, confusion in his piercing stare. “Do what?”
“You know, stepping down as leader of the Mindless Castiel Groupies? That angel cult you had goin’ on?”
Cas didn’t smile and certainly didn’t laugh. Dean expected him to at least fake a smile for his benefit, but he refused to move a single muscle. He looked completely unamused by Dean’s attempt at humor. “But I did.”
“No, buddy, you didn’t. I know we’re friends- really close friends, practically brothers- but that… what you did back there? Not many people would do that for a friend. I mean, you just lost a lot of manpower. And you and I both know that, no matter how creepy they were, they would’ve come in handy when we finally take on that dick, Metatron.”
It wasn’t like Dean was trying to convince Cas to get down on his knees and beg his flock of drones to come back. The last thing he had was a soft spot for the selfish sons of bitches who’d run off at the first mention of their fearless leader not being the flawless rock star they’d thought he was. He simply was confused.
“I wouldn’t do that for many people, Cas. I can count all of the people I’d make a sacrifice like that for on one goddamn hand. One.”
“Of course. I have the same stance on the matter,” Castiel agreed, nodding as he spoke. He hesitated and then smiled, grinning as if there were some little inside joke hidden in the comment that only he understood. “You are the human being that I am closest to. Other than Sam, who I care for, too, but… well, you understand. ”
He explained his feelings like they were something elementary, something Dean should’ve known by now. It was very unlike him to allow his emotions to show through in his speech. Lately, that had been changing, though- especially since his brief time as a human.
“What, like our… oh, ‘profound bond?’ Is that what you’re talking about?” Dean laughed, intending to bring up their “bond” as a kind of joke, to maybe lighten the mood. He hadn’t brought it up in a while, and the comment had always made him snicker to himself. So why not bring it up now and give the angel a good laugh?
Castiel smiled, a tiny wistful one that barely twisted his lips. Again, he didn’t react as Dean had hoped he would. The comment had noticeably improved Cas’s posture, lifting the unseen weight from his shoulders, and he straightened up in his chair. He rested his clasped hands on the table and shook his head, a silent Oh, Dean, you think you’re so funny in his eyes.
“Yes,” he sighed, glancing down at his hands, “yes, something like that.”
Dean wasn’t really sure how to respond to that. He also didn’t know how to interpret Cas’s response, his curiosity further piqued by the angel’s choice of words. He watched him carefully, observing the way he managed to look both relaxed and tense at the same time. Admittedly, Dean’s gaze also swept over the angel’s face, lingering on his mussed hair and hooded eyes, framed by surprisingly long lashes, before going back to staring at the wall behind his downturned head.
Then, a thought crossed his mind. If he had been in Cas’s shoes, would he have done the same thing? Would he have given everything up for one man, one angel? The answer presented itself almost immediately: yes.
If Hannah had grabbed Dean and given him an ultimatum, the army or the angel’s life, he would’ve chosen to save Cas without a second thought. The idea of losing him made Dean sick. He’d practically lost it when April had stabbed Castiel months ago, and he had stabbed her in return without a moment’s hesitation. Cas wouldn’t die on his watch, not if he had anything to say about it. The angel deserved so much more than that; if he died, it would be for a noble cause, not because some angelic bitch or- God forbid- Dean plunged an angel blade in his chest.
“I would’ve done the same thing for you,” Dean admitted softly. He hadn’t expected the admission to come out as a whisper, hoping to voice it with confidence and passion, but the damage had already been done.
Cas hesitantly looked up, piercing blue eyes staring right into Dean’s soul. The confession didn’t appear to comfort him. Instead, his expression exuded concern and, quite possibly, pity. It was as if Dean were lying but didn’t realize it. Only Castiel, who apparently knew everything, recognized that he was wrong.
“Even with the blade?” Cas wondered in an equally gentle tone.
Dean could’ve punched himself. How had he forgotten? The blade… the Mark of Cain… when they took over, he was powerless, a slave to the weapon’s unspeakable power. Cas wouldn’t be the first person caught between Dean, the blade, and a random surge of uncontrollable rage. It would be easy, actually, for the angel to step in the way as Dean moved in for a kill. Or worse- he may seek Castiel out and stab him for no purpose other than to kill for the thrill and the pleasure it gave him.
But he wouldn’t. No, not even the blade could possibly push him to end Cas’s life. He would turn the hideous weapon on himself before he used it on Castiel.
It reminded him of what had happened when the angel had been brainwashed by Naomi. The bitch had forced him to stab Dean hundreds of times in preparation for the real deal. Of course, when the living and breathing Dean Winchester had been placed in front of him, the angel had dropped the angel blade like it had shocked him. He then went so far as to heal Dean afterwards, pressing his shaky palm to the side of his face, leeching all of the pain from his weak body.
“Nope, I could never go through with it.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I just am, Cas, okay? Here, look at it this way. Remember when that- when Naomi brainwashed you?”
Castiel flinched, leaning away from Dean as if he had suddenly morphed into the dictatorial angel herself. He lowered his clasped hands into his lap and shifted nervously in his seat, uncomfortable with the new topic.
“Yes, I remember,” he mumbled, “but the blade is different. It appears to be more powerful- to have more control- over you than Naomi did over me. I believe that, sadly, if it came down to it, it could easily force you to kill-“
“No,” Dean snarled. He slammed his elbows down on the table and leaned closer, injecting enough venom into his voice to hopefully get the point across. “It doesn’t make a difference. That blade won’t make me kill you, Cas, Jesus Christ. I’m stronger than that.”
“Dean…”
“I promise,” he insisted. Castiel eyed him suspiciously, clearly skeptical about Dean’s promise, but said nothing. The angel wasn’t the biggest fan of conflict and knew that if he kept pushing the issue, that was exactly what he’d get.
This time, though, he didn’t get it.
“What about Metatron’s sick excuse for a joke? The whole ‘personal heaven’ thing? You said that Josiah was there.”
It wasn’t often that Dean changed the subject like that, but, with everything that had happened in the past several days- months, to be honest- he felt like Castiel needed a break.
“Yes, he was there. He… well, as you know, Metatron did not spare his life.”
“Yeah, I got that part. Did he say anything to you? Like anything helpful?”
Cas clearly tried to stop the subtle cringe that twisted his lips in an uncomfortable grimace. But Dean caught the little gesture. If there were anyone the angel couldn’t hide his feelings from, it was him.
“Wait, what’d he say to you? I know that look.”
“He… it was nothing, Dean. I assure you that it’s none of your concern. I would not-“
“Oh, just tell me, Cas,” Dean sighed exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. He hated it when Castiel did this, only telling part of the truth instead of the whole damn thing. He should know by now that Dean was the last person who should be and, therefore, would be passing judgments on others.
Castiel’s lips pursed, and he tensed as if he were about to stubbornly refuse answering. Instead, he sighed heavily and began his explanation.
“Well, he said several things to me concerning Metatron- the things I have already told you. But… he also mentioned something about… he looked into my eyes and claimed that he did not see an angel looking back at him.”
Dean didn’t interrupt, sitting quietly and patiently as Castiel recounted his encounter with the traitorous angel. He could only imagine what the bastard’s comment had done to Cas. The poor guy had just lost an entire army- thanks to Dean, mind you- and would lose his grace sometime soon. Once again, he would be the anxious, confused human Cas, wandering aimlessly around without any idea of what to do. Well, if Castiel was right, that’s what he would become here in the next couple weeks. It was either that or he’d die.
Both scenarios were awful. Either way, the last thing he needed to hear at a time like this was an underhanded remark about his shady history as a rebel and human sympathizer. Hell, he needed a motivational speech right now, like the cheesy kind coaches screamed at their overzealous team on the day of a championship.
“Hey,” Dean began softly, reaching across the table to squeeze Castiel’s arm reassuringly, “you’re fine. I don’t give a damn what you are. Angel, human, hamster- whatever! I. Don’t. Care.”
Cas smiled, a small shy gesture that lit up his face although it didn’t even reach his eyes. With him, a tiny smirk was the equivalent of a devilish grin. He certainly hadn’t made a habit of smiling so Dean treasured each one, no matter how rare they may be.
With a little satisfied smirk still on his lips, Castiel muttered, “You would rather have me, cursed or not.”
Oh God, Dean remembered that day. Moments before they’d taken on Dick Roman and landed in the hellish nightmare that was Purgatory, he had admitted that he would take Castiel however he could have him. Whether it be the crazed ghost of his old self or the naïve, socially inept angel Dean had known for years.
“Damn straight,” Dean agreed, chuckling weakly.
Castiel grinned wider, a satisfied twinkle in his wide eyes. The warmth and love with which he watched Dean made him incredibly uncomfortable, but, probably not for the right reasons. It wasn’t because he didn’t like the adoration in the angel’s eyes as he spoke- it was because he couldn’t get enough of that affectionate expression. Looks like it’s time to change the subject again, Dean decided.
“So, Cas, I think it’s time I give you a tour of your room.”
*
Dean grumbled and turned over onto his other side, shifting the blanket so that one of his legs was no longer trapped in the stifling heat. He squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled loudly.
It was fucking ridiculous. Yeah, he was used to nights like this when he couldn’t get to sleep. Ever since he’d acquired the First Blade, going to sleep had become an unnecessary struggle. He would try everything, twisting his body into just about every position his limbs could possibly handle, but, even after several hours of tossing and turning, no dice. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a decent sleep.
Unexpectedly, the mattress began to creak and shift, as if someone were climbing into bed beside him. As in, Dean was no longer alone.
He slowly turned, moving only his head to peek over his shoulder. His back and shoulders were far too sore from his thrashing to twist to the side. As he glanced over, there, lying beneath the covers, was none other than the trenchcoat-wearing angel himself.
“Cas?” Dean slurred, attempting to kick start his partially lucid brain. Speech was always the most difficult for him when he first woke up. Of course, he hadn’t actually been sleeping, but still.
“I’m sorry, Dean, I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about what Josiah said.”
Of course. Leave it to Cas to seek out Dean for comfort.
“Why’d you come here?” Dean mumbled, wishing the angel would turn over to face him. It felt weird to interrogate the back of Castiel’s head.
“I… can I please stay here, Dean? I didn’t know where else to go.” This was the moment Cas decided to roll over and face Dean as he spoke. Only a few inches of empty space separated them, but it felt like mere millimeters thanks to the intensity in the angel’s pleading stare. There was something about those wide, blue eyes, something about those chapped lips and those furrowed brows, that kept Dean from shoving Castiel out of bed and ushering him back to his own room.
“Fine,” Dean huffed, quickly turning away from the angel’s penetrating gaze. It was times like this, under the careful watch and protection of the darkness, surrounded by the warmth of a soft mattress, that bad decisions were made. “Just don’t tell Sammy. He’ll make some kind of bitchy comment about it.”
“Alright.”
Silence hung over them as it did earlier. But, under the soft glow of the moonlight, the silence seemed more foreboding, heavy with unspoken words.
Unsettled by the tension, Dean voiced a question he hadn’t originally intended to ask. “Cas, what happens when your grace runs out?”
He didn’t miss the sharp intake of breath that came from the other side of the mattress. Castiel was probably offended. He’d just been criticizing Josiah for questioning Cas’s humanity and yet here he was, doing the same thing. It felt stupid now that he’d said it.
Quietly, in a tone barely above a whisper, Castiel replied, “I don’t know.”
The admission hurt, striking like the violent contact of a physical blow. The ache in the angel’s voice might as well have been his own. It felt like he were the one being asked, as if he were the one that ran the risk of losing his grace. That was the kind of relationship he and Castiel had developed. When something happened to one of them, the other experienced it, too. Their connection went deeper than simple friendship. Dean had slowly come to terms with that frightening realization over the past couple months. He obviously hadn’t told Castiel, though. The angel wouldn’t want to deal with such nonsense.
“I… I don’t want you to die.” Dean’s throat suddenly felt tight. The confession slipped past his lips, scratchy and painful. Voicing the words hurt almost as much as the idea of sharing such an intimate thought.
“I won’t die, Dean,” Castiel swore, his words tinged with the same concern and pain as Dean’s. “It is likely that I will be a human once again.”
Before Dean could interrupt, the angel rushed on. “You probably see that as a bad thing, but, I assure you, it would actually be for the best. That way, I would have no choice but to stay with you and Sam. Like I wanted to do when I experienced humanity for the first time. Like I’ve wanted to do from the very beginning.”
Castiel’s explanation also sounded like a confession, shaky and hesitant. Dean took a little comfort in the angel’s anxiety, thankful that he wasn’t the only one laying his heart out on the line.
Everything he had said was true, after all. He didn’t know what he’d do if something happened to Castiel, how he would live without the angel’s presence. The thought of going to bars without bringing along his awkward wingman, taking on other angels without his secret weapon by his side, slipping underneath the covers on a humid summer night with no one beside him- none of it seemed right without Cas. He just had to be there, experiencing everything along with him.
“Well, human or angel, I’m not letting you out of my sight again. Capiche?”
Cas wasn’t quick to respond, but, after a few seconds of charged silence, he mumbled, “Capiche.”
*
The weight of an arm slung across Dean’s waist was what woke him in the middle of the night.
The protective hold the arm had on him momentarily distracted him from the fact he’d somehow managed to sleep, but, when the realization did hit him, he couldn’t seem to feel anything besides relieved. He probably should’ve been concerned about the intimacy of the limb wrapped tightly around his lower abdomen, but he didn’t feel the slightest bit angry or upset. No, only relief.
He considered scooting out from underneath Castiel’s hold, shifting over into the small sliver of available space off to his left. It would certainly eliminate the chance of an awkward morning experience when Cas realized he was no longer sleeping. He wouldn’t have to ask Dean why he hadn’t climbed out of bed since he was awake. And that was exactly what he wanted to avoid.
But, like the anger he couldn’t seem to feel, he found it impossible to talk himself into moving. Castiel’s body, tucked neatly against his back, didn’t make him uncomfortable. As a matter of fact, it felt nice to wake up to body heat and the soft press of fingers against his skin. He liked it.
That wasn’t why he refused to move. It was because Cas would be upset. If he woke up in the morning without Dean against his chest, he would freak out. He’d take all of his anger out on the insecure man he’d curled up next to sometime in the middle of the night.
He tried to talk himself into believing it was true, too, he really did. The comfort, though, is hard to ignore, and he knew immediately that, deep down, he enjoyed it a great deal. He woudn’t trade anything in the world for the angel lying beside him. No matter what supernatural creature he may turn out to be, he was still Cas.
And that was all that mattered. Right?
