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The angel blade pierced through Cas’ heart, his grace revealing itself in his eyes, mouth, and the wound in his chest.
“No!” Dean cried as Cas fell to the ground, dead. Lucifer stood directly behind where Cas had just been standing, holding out an angel blade that was coated with a fresh layer of blood. Dean stared at him in horror; thoughts of sadness and anger were running through his mind as his gaze shifted from the Devil to his angel.
“That was fun,” said Lucifer, a self-satisfied smirk playing across his face. “Seriously, guys. Points for trying. Super impressed, but, uh… playtime’s over.”
Dean heard footsteps come up behind him and Sam, and a voice—his mother’s—said, “Get away from my boys.” She stopped walking and stood between Sam and Dean.
“Mary, right?” asked Lucifer. “I’ve heard about you. You, uh, are certainly living up to the hype.” He purred, making a claw with his hand and laughing. “Look, seriously, I just wanted to say thank you. For everything. I owe you, kid.”
Mary started to step towards Lucifer, but Sam put a hand on her arm, holding her back, and said, “Mom, Mom, Mom.”
“I love you,” Mary assured them, then made her way to the Devil. She reached out and punched him in the face, and Dean saw the brass knuckles that she had fitted onto her hands.
Not seeming fazed, Lucifer turned back to face Mary. “Cute,” he said. “Is that all you got, mama?”
Mary punched him again, and again, and the angel blade was knocked out of his hands, landing on the ground near Cas’ head. She continued striking him with her fists, knocking him back further and further until they were both nearing the rift. Lucifer grabbed onto Mary’s sleeve and she punched him again.
“Mom!” Dean cried out just as Lucifer and his mother slipped into the rift, the glowing thing that was hanging in the air closing as soon as the two had passed through. “Mom. Mom! No!” He and his brother had run after their mother, but it seemed to have been too late to help her. Sam’s breathing was getting heavy. “No. No, no, no, no, no.”
Sam turned his head around, hearing a weird noise coming from the house and lights flashing through the windows. He looked down at the ground before turning around and running into the house, going to investigate the aftermath of the birth of Lucifer’s child.
Dean’s breathing was quickening as he stared down at Cas, lying—almost peacefully—on the ground. He collapsed to his knees next to him, overtaken by grief, by heartbreak. He stared at his surroundings, then up at the sky, before looking down at Cas again and sitting back on his heels. Tears were beginning to pool up in his eyes, and, pretty soon, they were falling out of his eyes, sliding down his cheeks and landing on the ground, on his clothes, on Cas.
“Cas,” he said quietly, barely audible or coherent over the sobs that were racking his body. “Cas, you dumb, son of a bitch,” he added, shaking his head a bit before burying it in his hands, his tears falling faster.
Dean took a shaky deep breath, breathing in, holding it for a few seconds, then breathing out, but it did nothing to help him feel any better.
He thought back to when Cas was about to die, not too long ago, after being stabbed with the Lance of Michael. Cas was sitting there, in his time of dying, confessing his love. “I love you,” he had said, staring right at Dean. Then he had looked around at the others in the room—Sam and Mary. “I love all of you.”
Dean reached forward and cupped Cas’ face in his hands. “I love you, Cas,” he said through his crying. “I love you so damn much, and I’m sorry that you won’t ever get to hear it.” He brought Cas’ forehead to his own, holding it there as he made a feeble attempt to stifle his sobs, but failed, and his tears dripped onto Cas’ placid face
The door to the house slammed open behind him, but Dean didn’t bother turning around to investigate, not caring who was there or if he was in danger.
“Dean!” Sam called out, but Dean still didn’t turn around, ignoring his brother.
Sam knelt down on the ground next to Dean, silently trying to pull Dean away from Cas, but to no avail. He opted instead to speak to him. “Dean,” he started, “we have to get out of here. Lucifer’s kid is in there, and it’s not safe to be here.” He cocked his head towards the Impala, though Dean couldn’t see him. “Let’s go.”
Dean moved his head away from Cas’ and wrapped his arms around Cas, cradling him to his chest. He dug his fingers into Cas’ trench coat, feeling as though Cas were closer to him with the gesture.
Sam clasped him on the shoulder, and that was when Dean finally turned his attention away from Cas, looking over at his brother. Sam immediately noticed tears still running down Dean’s cheeks and the red, puffiness of his face.
“Come on,” Sam said gently, lightly tugging on his older brother’s arm in an attempt to get him to stand up. “We have to leave.”
Dean silently nodded, but quickly stated, very quietly, “I’m not leaving without Cas.”
Sam nodded. “All right. I’ll help you carry him over to the car?”
Dean shook his head, digging through his pockets and handing the keys to the Impala over to Sam. “I can get him.” He repositioned himself so he was squatting on the ground—it would be easier for him to stand up that way—and slid his arms around Cas’ legs and his back. He stood up and made his way over to the car, where Sam had opened the back door so Dean could easily get Cas into the car. Dean climbed into the back after he had laid Cas down on the seat, lifting Cas’ upper body up, sitting down on the seat, and settling Cas’ head in his lap.
Sam, already sitting in the passenger seat, turned around and noticed that Dean was sitting in the back. “Are you sure you don’t want to drive?” When Dean shook his head, Sam shrugged and slid over to the driver’s side, sticking the keys in the ignition and starting the car up. He left the house and began the long drive back to the bunker.
After a while of being in the car, with Dean’s arms wrapped tightly around Cas’ shoulders, he noticed when his arm was being pressed against a rectangular object that must have been in the inside pocket of Cas’ jacket. Curious, Dean reached into the inside pocket and pulled out a familiar object: the mixtape. The words “Deans top 13 Zepp TRAXX” were scrawled in Dean’s handwriting on the cassette tape’s label. He smiled down at it a bit, flipping it around in his hands a bit.
“Hey, what’s that?” Sam asked when they were stopped at a light, slinging his arm over the back of the seat and turning his head towards what was in Dean’s hands, noticing what was written on it. “Is that a mixtape?”
Dean nodded slightly, focusing all of his attention on the rectangular object he was still flipping around in his hands. “Yeah,” he said quietly, and Sam could barely hear him. “I gave it to Cas, as a gift.”
Sam nodded at Dean, but quickly turned back around in his seat and started driving, as the light had switched from red to green. They were cruising down the road again, and it was difficult to see where they were because of the time—outside the windows, the sky was dark and it seemed as if shadows were cloaking the street, obstructing it from view.
Dean tucked the cassette back into Cas’ trench coat. He wrapped his arms around the angel’s shoulders, hugging him close to his chest and digging his fingers into the tan, dirty coat he was wearing. Dean pressed a soft, gentle kiss to Cas’ forehead, then slightly closed his eyes, wishing that he could sleep until he, Sam, and Cas arrived at the bunker.
Sam pulled up in the bunker’s garage, turned off the engine, and shoved his door open, getting out of the car to open Dean’s door for him.
“You okay?” he asked when he noticed Dean’s tear-stained cheeks; it seemed that Dean hadn’t stopped crying since they had first made it to the car after Cas’ death.
“Fine,” Dean muttered, gently lifting Cas’ head from his lap and getting out of the car. He reached into the car and secured his arms around Cas’ back and legs, picking him up and out of the back seat of the Impala.
“Need any help?” asked Sam, fully prepared to help Dean carry their friend into the bunker.
Dean shook his head and started heading into their home. Sam shut the doors to the car and followed his brother into the bunker, finding Dean carrying Cas down the hallway to Cas’ room.
When Sam opened Cas’ door—he guessed Dean had closed it because he wanted privacy, but Sam really didn’t care—he saw that Dean was laying Cas down on the bed.
Dean touched Cas’ forehead, his hand lingering there for a second before he pulled the covers over Cas’ body.
“Hey,” Sam’s voice said from behind him.
Dean whirled around, startled; he hadn’t heard Sam follow him into the angel’s room.
“What are you doing?” Sam asked.
“Making sure he’s comfortable,” Dean answered, his words becoming quieter and quieter as he continued his statement. He sank down onto the bed, perching himself there next to his best friend’s prone form.
“I meant why are you covering him with a blanket,” Sam clarified.
Dean stared at Cas, a small, sad smile playing across his lips. “He looks like he’s sleeping this way.”
Sam nodded. “I’ll just—I’ll just leave you two alone.” He swiftly turned around and headed out the door, closing the door behind him to ensure Dean and Cas some privacy, even though there was no one else inside the bunker. Dean heard him walk away from the room, most likely heading to the library to begin research on whatever he believed he needed to research. The Nephilim, Dean amended, remembering why they were even at the house in the first place, going there to figure out why Cas had suddenly disappeared, taking Kelly Kline—along with her unborn child—with him.
“Why were you so stupid?” Dean asked, his voice breaking up between his sobs. He still didn’t understand why or how he was getting so emotional; he just knew that he was, and figured it must be because he truly cared about his dumb little nerdy dude with wings. Dean leaned over and pressed a kiss to the angel’s forehead, gripping his face in his hands. He pulled away from the kiss and shook his head, deciding that he should probably help Sam figure out how to deal with the Nephilim.
When Dean had the door open, he quickly turned back around to look at Cas’ peaceful-looking face before heading through the doorway, making his way to the library.
Sam had a pile of books stacked on the table, and his legs were propped up on the table, his laptop settled in his lap, which he was furiously typing on.
“Hey,” Sam said distractedly, sliding a few books across the table to where Dean had just settled himself into a chair.
“Thanks,” Dean quietly responded, cracking open the first book on top of the stack, leafing through the index, but unsure of what exactly he was supposed to be looking for. He asked Sam exactly that.
“Anything that has to do with Nephilim,” answered Sam, setting his laptop on the table and swinging his legs down so he was sitting upright in his seat. He took one of the books that he had just given to Dean and opened it, expertly skimming through the index and finding a few sections about the children of humans and angels. He wrote the pages down on a piece of scrap paper and handed that, with the book, back to Dean. “You can look through that, gather some info.”
Dean nodded as Sam went back to his laptop, typing something in and scrolling through whatever had popped up. Dean flipped to the first page that Sam had written down and began to read it over, only partially paying attention, his mind someplace else.
After a few hours of researching, Sam looked up from his laptop screen to see his brother planting his face into the book he was reading.
“You okay?” asked Sam, although he was relatively sure he knew the answer would be no. He paused, waiting for Dean to answer, but decided to continue speaking. “That was a stupid question. Of course you’re not okay.”
Dean slowly raised his head, running a hand over his face. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m not okay.” He slammed the book that was sitting in front of him closed and shoved his seat away from the table. “I’m going to check on Cas.”
Sam sighed, shutting the lid of his laptop, pushing away from the table, and going to follow his brother.
When Sam arrived at Castiel’s room, Dean was curled up on the floor, hugging his knees to his chest and leaning against the side of the bed. His head was resting against the bed frame, right where Cas’ hand was resting, and then Dean reached his hand up to grasp Cas’.
Sam coughed, covering his mouth with his hand as he stood in the doorway. Dean looked up, finally noticing that his brother was there and was watching him and Cas.
“Sorry,” Sam quickly said. “But, uh, I just thought that we should be worrying about other things, like the Nephilim that was just born.”
Dean dropped his head, letting it rest against the tops of his knees, though he was still clinging to Cas’ hand. “Just… can you do it without me? I, uh, I’m not sure how much… help I would be.”
Sam hesitated, wanting to protest. A surprised, “Oh,” escaped his lips. “Okay. I’ll just go research.” He looked once more at Dean and Cas, then ducked out of the room, heading down the hall and back to the library so he could research in peace.
The next day, after Sam had spent the entire night sitting in front of his laptop and poring through a stack of books with no sleep at all, he slammed the book that was resting on his lap shut and stood up. He stretched his arms above his head and a loud, obnoxious cracking sound came from his back.
“Crap!” he yelled, though it was under his breath. He twisted around a few times so his body didn’t feel as stiff as it had when he first stood up.
Sam started heading to Cas’ room to go check on his brother and his best friend, running through some of the things he had researched in his head as he did so.
When he slowly opened the door to Cas’ room, all he saw in there was Cas lying on the bed, looking relatively peaceful. Sam shook his head and went back to the library to continue his research.
Dean opened the door to his own room, immediately going over to his bed and running his hand underneath it until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a small box, cradling it in his hands as he moved from sitting on the floor to sitting on his bed.
He slowly lifted the lid up, still uncertain if he really wanted to look back on a bunch of memories; he didn’t know if he really wanted to add to the flood of emotions he was feeling at the moment. When he did have the box opened, he was glad, because now he was staring down at a collection of photos he had of Cas from over the years. Some were just of Cas, pictures taken when Cas hadn’t even noticed that Dean was recording him on his phone. Some had him and Cas in them, and some had him, Sam, and Cas in them.
He grinned at each photo as he took them out of the box, laying them out on the bed around him. As he was staring down at the wide spread of memories that almost covered the entirety of his bed, he got an idea. He stood up from his spot on the bed and went over to his desk, searching for something he could use to stick things on the wall: tape, a stapler, knives, anything.
“Yes,” Dean said quietly when he found a roll of tape on his desk. He picked it up and brought it over to his bed, laying it down next to the pictures that were spread out there.
He was about to just dive right in, begin taping the photos up in a way that would make no sense—to him or to anybody else—but he decided that he would tape them up neatly and place his favorite photos towards the center.
Dean turned back to his bed and sorted through the photos, putting his favorites in one pile and the others into their own separate piles.
About an hour later, a nice spread of photos was tacked up on Dean’s wall. Dean had set it up so the photos would form a perfect rectangle when they all were taped up, and he was happy with the end result.
Dean pulled the earbuds out of his ears; earlier, he had grabbed the mixtape out of Cas’ coat, and he was listening to it on an old Walkman of his. He gently laid the Walkman on his bed, but went back over to it, popping the mixtape out of it so he could give it back to Cas.
He took a deep breath, clutching the cassette tape in his hands, then stepped out of his room, starting to head down the hall to Cas’ room.
When he arrived at Cas’ door, he stood outside of it, hesitating a bit. He flipped the mixtape around in his hands a bit, then shoved it in his pocket and twisted the door handle, shoving the door open.
When he entered the room, he saw that Cas was sitting up in his bed, looking around at the room in confusion.
“Cas?” Dean choked out, running across the room and sitting down on the bed next to Cas. He reached out a hand and ran it up and down Cas’ arm, confirming to himself that Cas was really sitting there. “You’re—you’re alive!” He wrapped his arms around Cas’ shoulders and brought him close to his chest, hugging him tightly. Cas hesitated a bit before hugging Dean back.
When Dean pulled away, he grinned. Happiness was overtaking him, and he couldn’t help pressing his lips to Cas’. Cas began to pull away a bit, surprised, but Dean pulled him in closer.
Dean grinned at Cas after he broke the kiss, and Cas smiled back at him, a rare gesture, coming from him. His happy demeanor ended when questioning thoughts flooded through his mind.
“Cas?” Dean asked. “Do you know how you’re… well, alive?”
Cas shook his head. “No, I don’t know. I do know that I’m not exactly an angel anymore. I’m a human now, Dean.” His face fell, and the smile that had been on his face earlier had turned into a frown. “Um, do you have anything that I could eat?”
Dean was staring at Cas, his mouth hanging open a bit. He shook off his surprise and nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go get you some food.” He stood up and offered Cas a hand, which he gladly accepted. Cas was wobbling a bit on his feet, so Dean wrapped an arm around him to help him stay standing. They began to walk out the door, but Dean stopped for a second, digging through his pocket until he found the mixtape. He handed it to Cas and said, “I was borrowing it earlier to listen to, but here, you can have it back.”
“Thank you,” Cas said, accepting the cassette tape and sliding it back into the front, inside pocket of his trench coat.
“You’re welcome,” Dean responded, and the two of them were heading out the door, down the hallway, until they stumbled into the kitchen. Dean walked Cas over to a chair, waiting for him to sit down before heading over to the fridge to find something for Cas to eat. He was able to find some jelly in the fridge, find some peanut butter in a cabinet, and find some bread sitting on the counter. He made Cas a PB&J sandwich and, when he finished making it, set it down in front of Cas.
“Thank you,” said Cas, looking up at Dean, a smile crossing his face.
Dean sat down in the seat next to Cas, smiling back at him. “You’re welcome.”
“Hey, Dean, what’s all the commotion?” Sam asked, walking into the kitchen holding his laptop, his attention fixed on whatever he was reading. He looked up for only a second, immediately noticing that Cas was sitting at the kitchen table. “Cas!” he said, surprised. He set his laptop down on the table, then went over to the fridge to grab a few beers. He gave one to Dean, one to Cas, and kept one for himself, then sat down in the seat where he had placed his computer.
“Hi, Sam,” Cas said, taking a bite of his sandwich. He placed the sandwich down on the plate and picked up his beer, making an attempt to twist off the cap, but he wasn’t able to do it. Dean took it from him, twisted the cap off, and returned it to Cas. Cas thanked him, then took a sip.
“You’re back,” Sam observed. “That’s, uh, good to see.” He smiled, then returned to poring over the text that was on his laptop screen.
“What are you researching?” Dean asked.
Sam looked up and glared at Dean. “What do you think?” he asked coldly, as if Dean were supposed to know what Sam was researching.
“Oh…” Dean said, realizing. “Nephilim.”
“Yeah,” Sam said, still sounding annoyed. He flipped the laptop around. “Do you wanna look over it?”
Dean shook his head. “That’s okay. I’ll leave that for you to do.”
Sam frowned and turned his laptop back towards him. He picked up the computer with one hand, grabbed his beer with the other, stood up, and headed out of the kitchen.
Dean tipped his beer back, taking a long sip, then set it back down on the table. He looked over at Cas, content with just watching Cas enjoy the PB&J sandwich he had made for him.
When Cas was finished eating his sandwich, he thanked Dean again, telling him how much he enjoyed it.
Dean grinned. “Happy to make you something good to eat. You’ll have to try my burgers at some point. Sam says they’re pretty good.”
Cas nodded. “That sounds good.” He smiled back at Dean, and his blue eyes were glittering.
“Hey, uh, Cas?” Dean asked, his voice suddenly turning serious. “Please—please don’t do that again. Don’t leave me ever again, okay?”
“Of course,” Cas replied.
Dean pulled Cas towards him, and Cas almost fell off his seat with the movement. He gripped onto Dean’s shirt so that he wouldn’t fall. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas, pulling him tightly to himself, and Cas hugged him back, laying his head down on Dean’s chest. Dean pressed a kiss to the top of Cas’ head, and they were content with each other in that very moment.