Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Okay, Rowena,” Dean said with forced patience, clutching his cellphone to his ear, eyes pinched closed by the tips of his fingers. “Tell me what you did. Tell me how to undo it. And maybe – maybe – the rest of your day will turn out fine.”

“Dooooo?” Rowena’s melodic voice warbled through the phone speaker. “What could little old me have possibly done, from so many miles away?”

Dean snorted, sticking his empty hand on his hip. He turned on his feet, gazing with discontent at his brother. Sam sat on a cushion at the bunker’s banquet table, feet sticking off the edge of his chair, elbows on the tabletop. Both hands were wrapped around a sippy cup. He was drinking milk, watching Sesame Street on his phone screen. Dean gestured to Sam, making an aghast, incoherent noise in explanation.

“Really now,” Rowena went on. “Your brother and I get along parfectly well, I’d have ab-solutely no reason to do such a horrible thing to a poor wee creature.”

Dean squawked. “I didn’t even say what you did! I know you did it, okay. Tell me how to age him up again. Right now, Rowena! Or I’ll—”

“Oh, all right, all right,” Rowena sighed, as if Dean had already listed the most gruesome witch-specific tortures, applicable from afar. “You win. I’ll tell you how to undo the spell.”

Dean met Sam’s eyes, considering him warily. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Now get a notebook, because these ingredients may prove hard for you and your handsome angel friend to find, and take a wee while to gather up. Don’t want either of you forgetting them in the meantime.”

Dean scowled and muttered, “I can remember. Just tell me.”

“If you say so. Now listen carefully. This is what you’ll need...”

“The Sands of Time?” Dean yelped, pacing back and forth. He shook his head, panting to himself, hands tucked tightly under his arms. “Where am I gonna get that, Cas? Does that even exist? I have no clue where to start.”

The cellphone on the table sighed.

“Is Sam gonna be stuck like this forever?” Dean looked over at Sam, who was stacking library books on the marble, ordering them by size. “Am I gonna have to raise him? Again?”

“I don’t know, Dean,” Castiel said placatingly through the speaker, and Dean snatched up his phone, holding it like having Castiel closer might bring him some comfort. “I’m driving right now. I can meet you in an hour, we can discuss it then.”

Dean wandered over to Sam, crouching beside him. Sam looked up with his innocent hazel eyes, and gave Dean a big smile.

“I made a howse,” Sam said, patting his pile of books. “Luk.”

Dean covered his mouth with a hand, rubbing it back and forth. “Mm-hm.” He let his hand fall and he forced a grin. “That’s real cool, Sammy. Could you make, like... a tidy bookshelf?”

Sam screwed up his face, lips scrunched to the side, thinking. “Mmm. Is kinda tricky.”

Dean swallowed, feeling his eyes watering.

Quietly, Castiel said, “Dean?”

Dean blinked twice, standing tall as he lifted the phone to his ear. “Yeah.”

Castiel was quiet for a moment, then exhaled. “I’m sorry. You sound upset.”

Dean hung his head. “Yeah. You know what, it’ll be fine,” he added, trying to smile. “I mean, he’s a cute toddler, right? Real cute. Not like it’s the end of the world.”

An uncomfortable silence followed those words. No, this particular incident was not the end of the world. But without Sam’s expertise in world-saving, the end of the world might actually arrive, and go unstopped.

Dean shook his head, determined. “Look. Cas, you’re an hour out. How ‘bout Sammy and I meet you halfway. Shave some time off before we can put our heads together. My guess is that if the Sands of Time are a real thing, they’re running out. So we gotta work quick.”

“There’s a playground just off the main road, we can meet there,” Castiel said. “Bring a raincoat or an umbrella. I think there’s a storm on the way.”

Granola packet between his teeth, Dean wrestled with Sam in the back of the Impala, trying to get his newly-thrifted raincoat on his tiny little arms. Sam wailed, tears pouring down his cheeks, his nose all snotty and his cries gritty with despair. Dean kept fighting, finally grabbing Sam’s sticky hand and yanking it out through the arm hole.

With one last screech, Sam knocked the granola packet flying into the car’s footwell, and Dean grunted.

“There,” Dean said, scowling. “It’s just a raincoat, Sammy. I just don’t want you to catch cold, okay? What’s the problem?”

Sam sobbed and hummed and sat with his mouth open, red-cheeked and damp-haired.

Dean sighed, sitting on the edge of the Impala’s seat, back to Sam, boots on the grass outside. The frustration drained out of him, and he soon turned back inside. Seeing the mess Sammy was in, he reached to wipe his little brother’s face with his hand.

“Shhh,” Dean hushed, thumbing away a fresh tear. “God,” he smiled. “Great thing you’re wearing a raincoat, huh. You’re crying out a whole dang river.”

Sam’s bottom lip wibbled, eyes opening just enough to see Dean. “Meemmm,” he said.

Dean laughed, bending close to wrap Sammy in a squishy hug. “Ugh. You’re so cute.”

Sam sniffled, no doubt wiping wet snot on Dean’s henley shirt.

“You wanna eat some granola?” Dean asked. “It’s sugar-free!”

Sam blinked away his last tears, meeting Dean’s eyes. He thought for a minute, then nodded.

“Okay then.” Dean retrieved the granola bar, opened the packet, and handed it to Sam. “Make sure you chew it properly, okay? Num-num-num.”

“Num-num,” Sam agreed, sucking on the end of the granola rather than chewing. It made little bubbly-hissy noises as he breathed in through all the seeds and grains.

Dean sat properly on the Impala’s seat, facing forward. He bent over his thighs and rested his head on the front seat. “Grrhhhh.” He deflated a bit. “At least Cas is coming. He’ll figure out what to do. Sands of Time. Puh.”

“Who’s Cas,” Sam said, poking a raisin in his granola bar.

Dean lifted his head, feeling chills in his stomach. “Cas. You know – Cas. He’s our best friend? An angel. Don’t tell me you forgot him, too.”

Sam shrugged, wrinkling his raincoat.

Dean inhaled, eyes flicking to the roof of the car, begging the universe to throw him a bone.

“Well,” Dean said, turning to his brother and explaining, softly, “Cas is someone very special. He looks after us, and helps us when we need help, and... And he’s always there for us. He makes us feel safe. And he wears this...” Dean grinned, “this weird coat. Never really takes it off. And he’s big and strong, and—” Dean huffed and went silent before he could say ‘handsome’, or ‘gives good hugs’. “You’ll like him, I promise.”

“Is Cas like you?”

Dean’s mouth slid open. “Uh. Like what?”

“Mean ‘n nasty.”

Dean clutched his heart. “Ouch! My feelings!” He pouted, quietly glad he made Sam giggle. “You’re mean and nasty,” Dean said. “I gave you granola, dude. And I bought you a coat so you don’t get wet. I told you beforehand, you get granola after you put the coat on.” He reached over and pushed damp locks of hair up behind Sam’s cute little ears. “Fat lotta good the coat did. Would need a towel for all these tears.” He hugged Sam again, tucking his chin against that warm, round head. “Sorry I made you cry, little brother. Next time you get granola first.”

Sam sucked on his half-soggy granola and said nothing.

Dean lifted his head, hearing the rumble of an approaching engine. “Oop, that’s him. C’mon, Sammy. Let’s go find him.”

“Can we go on the swings?” Sam asked, shuffling to the end of the seat, letting Dean take him by the waist and lift him down to the grass. He took Dean’s hand and held it when Dean offered. “I wanna go on the swings.”

“Yeah, if we find some swings,” Dean said, closing the Impala’s door. “Look, see that car there? The golden one parking by the tree. That’s Cas’ car.”

They made their way across the grass, Sam still eating, Dean sticking beside him, going so damn slowly he got bored. He looked around at the grey sky, feeling the faintest specks of rain touch his cheeks. The scent of the earth hadn’t yet begun to emerge into the air, but Dean could smell the storm about to break.

Ah, there was Castiel, crossing the grass in long strides. He slowed down suddenly, apparently shocked at the sight of Sam, once six-and-a-half feet tall, now six-and-a-half years old. Nah, that was probably pushing it; Dean thought Sam seemed about four. Maybe three. A smart three.

Castiel stopped a step before them, eyes on Sam.

But he raised his gaze to Dean, and gave him a smile. “Hello, Dean.”

“Hey,” Dean said, shaking. His heart began to surge with emotion, and he almost sobbed as he confessed, “I’m so freaking glad to see you, Cas,” falling into a hug. He shut his eyes and breathed through a smile, chin against Castiel’s rain-damp shoulder. “So glad.”

Castiel hummed a comforting note, squeezing his arms around Dean.

Dean relaxed against him, shutting his eyes and just letting his worry go silent for a moment. He felt the tug of Sam’s hand in his own, but still he held tight to Cas. Castiel rubbed Dean’s back through his leather jacket, and Dean just breathed.

Dean was the first to pull away. He managed a real smile now. “So,” he said, watching Castiel crouch down to say hello to Sam. “Where do we start?”

“How are you feeling, Sam?” Castiel asked.

Sam sucked on his granola, chin tucked shyly to his chest. He swayed, and pushed closer to Dean’s side, hiding behind his thigh.

Castiel’s lips parted, eyebrows rising. “Don’t you remember me?”

“He didn’t remember me,” Dean said sadly. “Took twenty minutes of getting reacquainted before he even let me get him some clothes that fit. Poor kid woke up in the library, in a pool of big-Sam’s denim and plaid.”

Castiel peered around Dean’s bowed leg. “Sam? Hello. I’m Castiel, but you usually call me Cas.”

When he didn’t get a response, Castiel tried, “There’s a playground in this park, do you want to visit the swings?”

Sam poked out from behind Dean, looking interested. He nodded.

“Okay,” Castiel smiled, standing up but keeping a hand on his knee. “Follow me, then.”

He stood straight, catching Dean’s eyes – they shared a single moment of bewildered solidarity, and then Castiel turned to lead them onward. The smell of rain was stronger now, permeating each of Dean’s inhales with dewy, thick incense.

“How are you holding up?” Castiel asked, his caring eyes examining Dean’s expression as they walked, Sam trotting between their legs.

“Uh.” A smile flashed across Dean’s face. “Ain’t cried, or broken anything yet. So I’m doing great.”

“But how are you feeling?” Castiel’s tone was pressing. He really wanted to know.

Dean shrugged a shoulder. “Sad, mostly. Worried. Scared.” He raised his eyebrows, gaze settling on the woodchip play area not too far ahead. “Kinda nostalgic, actually. This, uh, brings back a bunch of memories. ‘Course, last time Sam had a tantrum about waterproof boots and snack food, I was still in middle school. I skipped most of middle school, now I mention it. Because of this.” Dean waggled Sam’s little hand. “This adorable little rat-bag.”

“Can we go on the swings?” Sam said, patting Dean’s leg, then handing over his half-eaten granola bar. “Pleeeease.”

“You want someone to push you?” Dean asked, leading Sam to the swing set. “I can push you if you want.”

“I got it,” Sam said, scurrying on.

There were no other kids here, only grey skies, a damp wind, and some drifting trash.

Sam ran ahead to the nearest swing, arms over the seat, feet kicking the ground. He waddled back and forth in the dark groove below the swing, trying and failing to climb on.

“Here,” Castiel said, taking Sam under his arms and helping him up. His weight was nothing to an angel. Cas made sure Sam was seated properly, then stood back.

Sam began to kick, grinning, calling out, “Wheeeee!”

Castiel folded his arms, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Dean, both watching Sam inch back and forth. Sam didn’t seem to mind he was only swirling in place, occasionally swivelling in an actual direction.

“What did Rowena tell you?” Castiel asked, face turned towards Dean’s shoulder.

“Basically nothing useful,” Dean said, sticking his hands in his pockets. “I know she was in the bunker last night, she and Sam were still talking, drinking Rowena’s home-brewed tea when I headed to bed. I called her today. She gave me a list of spell ingredients. I don’t know if she’s sending me on a wild goose chase or what.”

“What were the ingredients?”

“The Sands of Time,” Dean said. “The Ultimate Truth. The heart of a loved one. Sam’s greatest wish. And the Death of the Light.”

Castiel stared. He blinked twice.

Dean tutted. “Yeah. My feelings exactly.”

“Where do we—?” Castiel looked down, eyes skipping back and forth. “How do we—?”

“God knows,” Dean muttered. “Not like Walmart has a display section for esoteric concepts.”

Castiel hummed a note, hand cupping the back of his neck. He ran his hand upward, making all the hair at the back of his head press flat, then flip down again.

“Higherrrr,” Sam called, pleading eyes set on Dean and Cas.

“You wanna push him?” Dean smiled, glancing at Cas.

Castiel beamed, going forward. “How high would you like to go?”

“I wanna go to the moon!” Sam declared, as Castiel situated himself behind him.

“Are you sure about that?” Castiel asked, giving Sam’s swing a gentle push. “That is an awfully long way. It’s very cold up there.”

“Dean got me a coat,” Sam said.

“Yes, I see that. That shade of green is very handsome on you.”

Dean watched them interact, warmth in his belly growing up into his chest, taking hold of his heart. Castiel spoke so softly, and simply, and Sam replied with ease. They were becoming fast friends, and the sight seemed so relieving. Part of Dean had worried – what if they hadn’t gotten along? Sam being a kid again was bad enough, but if two of the most important people to him didn’t jive, he wouldn’t know the first thing to do.

Man, Dean was so grateful for Castiel’s support. He loved seeing him like this. Pushing a swing. Talking about the size of the raindrops as they began to fall, and the noises the water made hitting the grass, the nearby trees, and Sam’s coat. Telling Sam about nature, telling him how the bees would be rushing back home so they didn’t get wet.

To Dean, this side of Cas seemed like the acoustic version of a favourite rock song. Toned down. Just the bare bones, the essence of what made him so...

So wonderful.

Dean’s smile turned wonky at the thought of that word.

He’d never say it out loud.

Wonderful.

“Can we play in the sandpit now?” Sam said, hopping off the swing before it stopped. He flopped face-first onto the woodchips, but as Dean dropped to his knees to help him, Sam was already up with a grunt, running to the sandpit.

Dean sighed, brushing dirt off his knees. He caught Castiel eyes as he straightened up properly, and they shared a smile.

“This ain’t so bad, maybe,” Dean admitted, walking with Castiel as they followed Sam to the sandpit, boxed in by six square feet of wooden logs. “Guess we could play house for a while. Take out a motel room, buy some groceries, watch some Scooby Doo before bed. Like in the old days. Except this time I can pay for food, and I’m tall enough to reach all the kitchen cupboards without standing on a barstool.”

Dean loitered with his hands in his pockets, observing as Sam chattered to himself, building something lumpy in the centre of the sandpit. With all the light pitter-patter of rain, the sand contained the perfect amount of moisture for construction.

“I imagine the purpose of this pit is to build dexterity,” Castiel supposed, squinting. “And if there were other small children, social skills.”

“It’s a good snack if you’re real hungry, too,” Dean said, half-joking. His smile faded. “I don’t think I ever got to play. At least not that I remember. I was always... y‘know.”

“Looking after Sam,” Castiel finished. He nodded.

Dean looked longingly at the sand. He imagined a spectacular castle rising out of the pit, complete with turrets and a moat. He’d seen kids build them in movies, at the beach, but he hadn’t ever built one himself. He’d never get his chance, now.

“Luk, is an igloo,” Sam said, demonstrating to Castiel as he crouched down. “The people live inside.”

“What kind of people live in your sand igloo?” Castiel asked.

“Ummm.” Sam scrunched his hand into the sand. “Small ones.”

Castiel laughed, genuinely amused. He turned his head up to look at Dean. “Small ones,” he repeated.

Dean offered a tense smile. “Cute.”

“Can I make a sand igloo too?” Castiel asked Sam. “Is there room for me as well?”

“Yah,” Sam said, scooting back on his butt. “I’mma— I’mma make a whooole village. So all the people has howses.”

Dean stood in silence, aching, again watching Castiel have fun with Sam, his shiny boots and trenchcoat stretched out on the sand. One by one, they put together mounds of sand and decorated them with brick-lines and a scooped-out front door.

Dean kinda wanted to play. Screw being an adult, this wasn’t fair. Cas wasn’t even human, but he was allowed.

After a minute, Castiel looked up with sparkling, crinkled eyes, and he said, “Do you want to join us, Dean? There’s space there, right next to you.”

“Uh, no thanks, I’m fine,” Dean said, waving his fingers, then going back to sulking.

Sam looked up. “Buh we hafta... We hafta make howses.”

Dean hesitated. But he caught sight of Castiel’s encouraging smile, and he gave in. He stepped onto the sandpit, knelt down beside Sam, and stuck his hand in the sand.

“Ergh, all bitty and dirty, ew,” Dean complained, scraping a gross little pile together. There was sand under his nails now. “Ew ew ew ew.”

He persevered in any case, starting on his dream sandcastle. After a minute or two, his hands went numb and he didn’t need to worry about the gritty feeling or the dirt. He smiled, and made what he wanted to make.

“It’s a castle,” he explained, when he saw Castiel squinting at what he built. “Moat.” He pointed to the ditch, complete with twigs to make up the drawbridge. “See. Turrets!” He pointed to the misshapen points at the top of his pile of wet mush. “Ta-daaaa!” He opened his hands to his creation and waggled them proudly.

Castiel blinked. “Yes. Well done, Dean. It’s very... big.”

“Uh-huh.” Dean beamed, pointing at his castle as Sam looked too. “I made a castle!”

Sam giggled. “It’s a foot.”

Dean looked at his foot— Castle!

Definitely a castle.

Okay, kinda foot-shaped.

“Pff,” Dean said. He started to laugh. He glanced at Castiel, and laughed some more, silent now, hand on his stomach. “Cah—” He wheezed. “Castle de Foot.”

Castiel chuckled too, but not nearly as much as Dean did. Sam just grinned, getting on with his own village. Dean felt the tension of joy in his chest, tickling his belly, squeezing his eyes half-blind, in a good way. He laughed until he had no breath left, and then calmed down almost immediately.

Finally he sat back, breathing deeply, still wild with smiles. “Ohhh, man,” he panted, eyes rising to the dripping sky. “I actually kinda felt like a kid again for a couple minutes. This is so awesome. We gotta do this more often. How ‘bout it, Sammy?”

“Yah,” Sam said, putting hand-scrunches of sand on top of all his igloos to finish them off. He hummed in satisfaction, then said, “Deeeean? I’m hungryyy.”

“You want the rest of your granola?” Dean asked, reaching for his pocket, but Sam shook his head. Dean sighed. “Yeah. It’s dinnertime, huh.” He nodded upwards to Cas. “Hey, you gonna join us for dinner? Get take-out, head to a motel?”

“I’d love to,” Castiel smiled, looking fondly at Sam. “You need a good wash before you eat, don’t you.”

“Nuh-uh,” Sam frowned.

“Mm, Cas is right,” Dean said sensibly, giving Sam his I’m Telling You An Important Thing look. “Lots of germy stuff in a sandpit. And the rain’s gotten under your hood, look. Nice warm shower would feel good.”

Dean and Cas got to their feet, then reached together to take one of Sam’s hands each. “Hup!” Dean said, lifting him to his feet. “Come on, back to the car.”

“I’ll leave my car parked here,” Castiel said. “Collect it later.”

“You not gonna get a ticket or anything?”

“Parking tickets are smitable,” Castiel said. “Unlike grubby toddlers. Grubby toddlers need love, and care, and attention, don’t they Sam?”

“Uh-huh.” Sam swung along, holding tight to Dean and Castiel’s sandy hands, taking big, slow leaps back to the Impala. “Can we get pizza for dinner?”

“Ooh!” Dean looked at Castiel. “Can we can we?”

Castiel laughed, surprised but not unhappy to be asked. “Pizza it is.”

“Two pies,” Dean said, patting his stomach. “Daddy’s had a day, he needs a whole one to himself.” He pondered, then added, “And on the subject of pies...”

Castiel smirked. “Pie for dessert. But only if there’s salad for Sam. Half his plate.”

Dean flicked his eyes up. “Okay, Mom.”

“You know I’m right,” Castiel reasoned. “Children require adequate nutrition. You do too, lest you forget.”

Dean snorted, shooting Castiel an affectionate glance. Inside him, a flashing smidgen of delight turned into full-blown rave. Dean laughed to himself, opening up the back door of the Impala, bending to help Sam to do up his seatbelt.

As he plugged in the belt, specks of sand tumbled from his hands. They pattered onto the leather seat, leaving pale dots. Some shone in the daylight.

Dean paused. He pulled his torso back out of the car, looking at Castiel.

“What?” Castiel asked.

“Sands of Time,” Dean said.

He raised his palm, showing Castiel the grains of sand stuck to his skin.

“Nostalgia?” Castiel realised, raising his eyebrows. “Rekindling your childhood. The feeling of being young again. Turning back the... clock.”

A grin burst across Dean’s face. “Get me a glass vial from the trunk. They’re between the machetes and the throwing stars. Or under the grenade launcher.”

As Dean went to unlock the trunk from the driver’s seat, Castiel went to retrieve a vial. He returned, sitting beside Dean, waiting as he rubbed the sand onto his t-shirt until it collected up, then used his shirt as a makeshift funnel and guided a line of sand into the vial.

Castiel corked it up for him.

Together they looked at what they had. Dean shook the vial, and the glass tinkered against the side, swirling up a mini hurricane, then settled still.

With a quiet, satisfied feeling, Dean met Castiel’s eyes. They smiled, content that they were making progress. Maybe they would be able to put Sam back to normal.

“Pizza?” Dean said.

Castiel took the vial for safekeeping, and nodded. “Pizza.”

“Hold still, kid,” Dean said to Sam, trying to wash behind his ears. “Quit squirming.”

“Nnnhnhn,” Sam complained, sploshing backwards in the bathwater as Dean finally let him go.

“That’s what you get for getting sand in your ears.” Dean squeezed out the bath sponge, then reached for the hair conditioner. “Now this stuff—” He sighed. “Wouldn’t usually bother. But big-Sam would not be happy if he finds out I gave you a bath and didn’t take care of his precious mop. Don’t tell him I said so, but it’s basically his best feature.”

Little Sammy sulked, but allowed Dean to condition his hair. Dean made sure he got all the ends, and tried his best not to get the stuff in Sammy’s eyes.

Dean knelt outside the motel’s half-size bathtub, still wearing his sand-crusted jeans. A splash of bathwater escaped the bath and landed on his thigh, all warm and soapy. With a sigh, Dean just smiled and got on with his task. Sam was nearly squeaky-clean, and that meant it was almost dinnertime.

“Hey, hows about we let Cas tuck you into bed after dinner?” Dean suggested.

“Why?” Sam asked.

“‘Cause I gotta go out and get you something healthy for breakfast.”

“Why?”

“Uh.” Dean rolled a shoulder, helping Sam rinse out his hair. “Well, I dunno, really. But...” He shook his head. He did know. “When we grew up the first time, we didn’t get breakfast every day. Greasy diner food was a treat - but pastries and caramel pie were never the best fuel for growing smart little brains, huh.” He booped Sam on the nose. “Imagine how much smarter we’d be if we ate celery sometimes. Just figure, if I am stuck with you like this, might as well do better than Dad did.”

Sam perked up at the word ‘dad’. “Are you my dad?”

Dean blinked a couple times, holding the showerhead away from Sam’s floppy-wet hair so they could stare at each other.

Dean’s lower lip bobbed. “No,” he said after a moment. “Naw, c’mon, I’m your big brother. Always have been, always will be. But—” A fond smile crept onto his face. “But I did the job, though. Mom. Dad. Big brother. Three for one.”

“Is Cas my dad?”

Dean felt a strange tingle in the pit of his stomach. Eager – excited. And comforted. He swallowed, reaching to turn off the showerhead. It dripped into the bathwater, each drip breaking the silence.

“Me and Cas,” Dean started, “we’re your... guardians. Carers. We’re family, and we’re looking after you. I guess that kinda makes us your parents, I dunno. But neither of us are your daddy. Or your mommy. We’re both kinda... both.”

Sam did not seem any less confused. “Are you married?”

“What?!” Dean startled. “Where’d you get that from? Jeez. You remember swings, sandcastles, and pizza, and the concept of marriage, but you don’t remember me or Cas? The hell.”

Sam just squeezed the bath sponge, watching it dribble out some water and inflate again.

Dean cleared his throat, adjusting his sitting position so his legs stretched out to the side, and his hip tucked up against the side of the bath. “Look,” he said, eyes downcast, “me ‘n Cas? We’re not married.”

“Are you gonna get married?” Sam asked.

He looked so genuinely interested that Dean couldn’t find it in his heart to be dismissive, or to steer the conversation away.

“Nope,” Dean said easily, but felt alarmed when the word from his lips made him tense with sadness, his chest aching like he’d given the wrong answer. “No,” he said again, to remind himself. “Me and Cas aren’t getting married.”

“Oh.” Sam looked down, pouting sadly.

Dean chuckled. “What, you disappointed by that?”

Sam shook his head. “I’m not pointy.”

Dean grinned even wider. “No, dude. Disappointed. Like, sad. You wanted something to happen and it doesn’t happen, and that bums you out.”

Sam considered Dean’s expression for a few moments, processing his words. Then he nodded. “I am dip-pointed.”

“Why?” Dean’s chin retracted by an inch, baffled by Sam’s response.

Sam just made a sad face.

“Sammy?” Dean tilted his head, reaching to stroke Sam’s wet cheek. “C’mon, man. What’s the big deal? Me and Cas don’t have to be married to look after you.”

“But you... you must be... is love.”

“In love?” Dean pried.

Sam nodded.

Dean blushed. He felt the heat rush from his head to his groin, to the soles of his feet, and he had to turn his face to breathe out, grinning. “Ummm.” He brushed his lips with the back of his hand, inhaling soap. “We...”

He flustered, and burned up inside, but swallowed twice and managed to express a truth that he’d never said before. Not once. Not out loud.

“We are,” Dean said. “Me ‘n Cas, w-we are in love. But it’s not a requirement for looking after a kid, okay? It’s just a bonus. You don’t have to worry, Sammy. We’re not gonna break up.”

And saying it felt like an ultimatum. He couldn’t take that back. That was it, it was out there now. Sam knew. And now Dean knew.

He’d spoken the Ultimate Truth.

“Shhhhiii-oot,” Dean whispered, touching the heel of his hand to his hot forehead. “That was it, that was the thing. The Ultimate Truth.”

Fire lit inside him now, Dean got to his feet. “Come on, Sammy. Let’s get you dried off. Then we’ll eat, and then I gotta go buy you some breakfast for tomorrow. You gonna be real good for Cas, aren’t you. Let him tuck you in? Maybe he’ll tell you a story if you behave yourself.”

“Okay.”

“Good boy.” Dean lifted Sam out of the tub, wrapped him in a towel, and kissed his head.

It was kinda funny, Dean thought. Cas suddenly looked so large, so robust.

Little Sammy was all but a puppy, a fragile creature cradled to Castiel’s chest.

Dean sat on the side of his motel bed, watching dazedly with his lips parted, hands curled together on his lap. He heard the soft rumble of Castiel’s voice, each spoken word imparted with inescapable fondness. He told Sam things like “We’ll be right here if you need us, Sam,” and, “Good dreams await you.”

The room was so warm. The light from beside the bed was so gentle.

The rainstorm outside seemed distant, like the chaos was part of another world.

This place was a safe place. Castiel was right here if Dean needed him. Good things awaited him, too.

Dean breathed out and smiled, tilting his head to follow the seam of the rising blanket, as Castiel tucked Sam in.

Sam’s eyelids drooped with fatigue, but he kept looking at Castiel, a tiny hand reaching to hug his thumb.

“Cas?” he asked.

“Yes, what is it, Sam?” Castiel asked, sitting on the side of Sam’s bed. “Do you want to hear another story?”

His trenchcoat and tie were nowhere to be seen. He bent slightly forward, putting wrinkles in his shirt’s rolled-up sleeves. He seemed so comfortable, somehow, even with his shield cast away.

Sam’s eyes drifted to Dean, and he stared for a little while.

Dean smiled. “Did Cas tell you the one where he gripped me tight and raised me from perdition?”

“Twice,” Castiel smiled, a shine in his eyes as he turned his face to Dean. “Sam liked it so much he had me tell it again. I tried to tell him about all the times Sam himself saved the world, but he wanted the ‘Dean and Cas one’ again.”

They shared a smile. Of course that was both of their go-to stories. Strange that it was Sam’s favourite.

“You wanna hear it again?” Dean asked Sam.

Sam seemed too sleepy to respond; his eyelids lowered like he was about to fall asleep. But then he inhaled, and blinked his eyes wide open. “Hm?” He looked at Castiel. “How come you and Dean is not... Is— Is not getting married?”

Dean caught Castiel’s eyes, giving a quiet, sudden laugh. Wow, this kid was obsessed.

But Castiel blinked away, returning his attention to Sam. “Most of the time, Sam, things like marriage are reserved for people who... um. Feel a certain way about each other. Mutual, romantic love. They both love another in ways that feel romantic. They both want to kiss, or raise a family, or spend the rest of their lives as a pair. Ideally, married couples feel as though they’re, um... in love. Both of them.”

Dean’s heart was pounding, and he didn’t want to think about why. He couldn’t.

Sam wore a frown. After a moment, Dean realised he was only confused.

“But,” Sam said, eyes darting to Dean, then back to Cas, “you aaare in love.”

Dean scoffed derisively, turning his face away. His body tensed, and he prayed Sam wouldn’t reveal any more than he already had. “Think you might be barking up the wrong tree there, Sammy,” Dean muttered. “We’re not— We’re not in love.”

Castiel’s eyes were on him, Dean could feel his attention searing against his skin.

“No,” Sam said in disagreement. “No, Deeean! You told me! You was both in love. An’— An’ Cas said. Cas fell in love with you.”

Dean’s eyes shot to Castiel. “He did?”

“You did?” Castiel responded, frowning – startled. “Why would you tell him that, Dean?”

Sam sat up now, his voice all squeaky and upset as he complained, “Why won’t you say iiit?”

Dean wet his lips with his tongue, eyes averted, skipping from the bedpost to Castiel’s shoes, then back. “Sam,” he said, more harshly than he intended. “I think Cas and me need to have a talk. Get to sleep, okay?” He stood up, leaning past Castiel’s warm presence to set a hand on Sam’s forehead, giving him a kiss. “Lie down.”

Sam lay down, giving Dean the cold look of a child thoroughly betrayed. The guilt in Dean’s body culminated in a stomach ache, and he supposed he deserved it. No child ought to have to puzzle this kinda thing out. Told the truth in private, then lied to in company. Sam couldn’t understand. All he knew was that Dean had been lying one of those times.

Dean kissed Sam again, shutting his eyes and breathing out. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, quiet enough that Cas wouldn’t hear. “Sometimes grown-ups get scared too.”

He pulled away, making sure to turn away from Castiel before his teary eyes caught the light. He pushed past Castiel’s knees, heading for the loveseat under the motel’s window. Rain lashed against the glass, breaking up the blue-silver moonlight that shone through the lace privacy curtain. Even over the noise of the rainstorm, Dean vaguely heard Castiel say goodnight, applying a kiss to Sam’s forehead too. A strange idea crossed Dean’s mind: Sam’s forehead allowed him and Cas to kiss by proxy. Dean forced back a smile, bowing his head as he sat down.

Cas turned out the bedside light, leaving the room dark blue. He paced around the bed, lifting a hand to touch the back of his neck as he approached. Maybe he felt bare without his necktie now. Naked without his coat. Vulnerable without his shields.

Dean held his own hand, shifting up a little on the loveseat, leaving enough room for Cas to sit beside him. Dean’s left thigh pressed to Castiel’s right, and he felt their body heat combining. Guilty stomach ache aside, Dean felt his insides dancing for joy. He looked away – far away – needing to clear his facial expression to neutral, lest his warring emotions make him vulnerable too.

Castiel drew a breath. A deep one.

He let it go slowly, and the rush of cool air touched to Dean’s hands. Upon feeling it, Dean let his fists relax, and he faced his hands, peering down into his empty palms.

“We need to fix this,” Dean said.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Castiel murmured.

“It’s not like we’re still at square one, y’know?” Dean went on. “We’ve made progress. Doesn’t seem to matter what we do, we still find what we’re looking for, by chance. Things just – happen. And they feel right, and that’s when you know. You ‘n me are getting somewhere.”

Castiel smiled. “Yeah.”

“I mean, we’ve got the Sands of Time—”

“What? Wait, I thought we were talking about—”

“And we’ve got the Ultimate Truth.” Dean nodded when he heard Castiel inhale. “Yeah, it’s done. I found it earlier tonight. Don’t ask what it was.”

Castiel shook his head. “I thought I found it.”

Dean met his gaze, half curious, half surprised. “Wh...? What did you tell Sam? What was your Ultimate Truth?”

Castiel avoided Dean’s eyes suddenly, mouth slightly open, shoulders bowed forward. He didn’t seem to want to answer.

Dean wished he wasn’t so acutely aware of what Castiel had told Sam. But he knew. He knew all over, to the point where it hurt.

They both knew they were in love. Yet they couldn’t say it.

No wonder Sammy was so pissed off.

“Anyway,” Dean breathed with a determined force, keeping his voice down so he wouldn’t wake up Sammy. “Next on the list: the heart of a loved one.” He grimaced. “I mean, I got a good knife. If I was gonna cut my heart out for anyone, it would be Sam.”

“Dean,” Castiel said, amused. “I don’t think Rowena intended this challenge to be gruesome. Look what the other ingredients turned out to be. Sandpit sand. And a private, personal secret, shared with love, in moments when each of us believed Sam would not repeat what he’d heard.”

Dean’s breath shuddered. “What did you tell Sam?”

He just wanted Cas to say it.

Castiel ignored him. “Both ingredients were things of joy, and deep affection. I think when Rowena said ‘the heart of a loved one’, she only meant that you or I were to give our love. All our love.”

Dean felt chills running up his back. “To Sam? Or... Or t... to each other?”

The sound of disturbed sheets came from the bed: Sam sat up straight. “Dean?”

Dean stood up. “Hey. Heyyy, little brother. We told you to get to sleep, dude.” He crossed the room, quietly glad he could escape Castiel’s reaction to his question. Turning the bedside light on again, Dean perched on the side of Sam’s mattress, stroking down his hair. “You need some milk? It’ll help you sleep.”

Sam looked pleadingly at Dean. “Give Cas your heart,” he said.

Dean’s smile fell. “What?”

Sam began to pout, his eyes glistening. “Cas told me... He said, that...” Sam fretted, fingers plucking at the blanket nestled around his body. “Cas wants you to love him back. You gotta— You gotta give Cas your heart, Dean! Iss super important. I don’t need all of your heart! But Cas does. He’s real scared. ‘Cause maybe. You don’t. Maybe you don’t love him back.”

Dean took two consecutive breaths, eyes unable to break from Sam’s. But he managed it. And he looked across the room, only to find Castiel sitting on the neighbouring bed, soft eyes on Dean, his expression subdued and expectant.

“Wait.” Dean grinned, but the grin quickly faded. “No... C’mon. Is that... right? Cas? You think I don’t...?”

The very tip of Castiel’s tongue poked between his lips, but he gave no other indications of his thoughts.

Unspoken words. Eagerness. That was all Dean got.

Dean drew a breath, filling himself with courage. He turned to Sam, and took his hand, admiring how small and cute it was against his own palm. “Sammy,” Dean said, frowning ever so slightly. He swallowed, and went on, “I love you. Completely. Okay? There’s nothing, there’s nobody who can make me love you any less. It’s just a fact. Understand? I love you. With every freaking beat of my heart.”

Sam seemed unsettled, eyes darting to Castiel. “But—”

“But,” Dean repeated, as a smile broke his mask, riding up one side of his face as the stomach ache vanished, the guilt evaporating to nothing. He knew what to say now, and there was nothing keeping him from saying it. “But there’s no reason to divide love,” Dean told his brother. “In fact, I don’t think it’s even possible. When you love a person, okay, it doesn’t take away from how much you love other people. There’s two times as much love in my heart ‘cause Cas is around. I have more than enough to share. All of us do.” Shaking his head fondly, Dean moved to rest his forehead against Sam’s. “You have my whole heart, Sammy. It’s all yours. But it belongs to Cas too, just as much.”

He pulled away, meeting Sam’s eyes. “Does that make sense?”

Sam wondered for a bit. Then he nodded. “Yah.”

“Awesome.” Dean sat up properly, smiling, shooting a flash-glance in Castiel’s direction.

“Dean,” Castiel said lowly. “That was it. The heart of a loved one.”

“Uh-huh,” Dean said, eyes down. “I know.”

“We could finish this,” Castiel said. “We could keep going, change Sam back tonight.”

“How?” Dean looked up.

A knowing smile graced Castiel’s face. “We grant his greatest wish.”

Dean swung his eyes to Sam, who still sat up, palming at his tired, twitchy eyes.

“Sammy?” Dean prodded him. “What do you wish for? In all the world, what do you want most?” He bounced closer on the bed, rocking side-to-side as he suggested, “Ice cream for breakfaaaast, a visit to the world’s geekiest libraryyy...” He stopped rocking, considering Sam seriously. “A pony? Could be a tough one, but we could do it.”

Sam pressed his lips together, eyes cast to the side. “Mmmmmm.”

“Anything,” Dean said, secretly hoping they could grant the wish without breaking the bank, or better: without leaving this motel room. “Just say it. Start with ‘I wish’, and then say it.”

When Sam finally decided, he announced, “I wish... that... snmmngh Dean and Cas an’ me is... hap- happy family. An’ you both say.”

“Say... what?”

“That you... are both... in love with each other. An’ not being all— All secrets and stuffs. Is stupid. An’ annoying.” Sam folded his arms and glared at Dean. “I wanna proper family, not stupids.”

Dean’s mouth slid open.

His initial urge was to tell Sam to wish for something else. But this was what Sam asked for. Hell, it was what Dean asked for, given they could do this for free, right here. And for God’s sake, it made sense, too. They’d grown up without that kind of family security. They’d had one lousy parent. Tough love, no affection, no healthy communication, or balance. Sam didn’t just want this, he needed it. They all did.

Dean lowered his head, knowing this was it.

They were gonna grant Sam’s wish, just the way he said.

Dean took a breath in through his nose, lifting his chin. He stood up, a hand over his mouth. He just needed to pace a little, that was all. But when he sat back down, the bedspread was cold under his ass, and he realised he’d sat down next to Cas rather than Sam.

He cleared his throat and pretended he’d done that on purpose.

“Ummm,” Castiel began, putting his hands on his knees, rubbing back and forth. Self-soothing. He was probably just as nervous as Dean. “I, um.”

“Yeah.” Dean wet his lips. “Yeah, I know.”

“I didn’t say it yet.”

“You don’t need to, Cas.”

“Yes you do,” Sam grumped, arms still folded.

Dean folded forward, hands behind his neck. “God.”

“The way I feel about you,” Castiel said, “Is, um.”

“You’re wonderful,” Dean spat out, eyes closed. He sat up, hands in fists on his thighs. “I was thinkin’ it earlier. When you were pushing Sammy on the swings. I don’t mean, like, you’re awesome. Like you’re super cool, or like – like you inspire awe. I mean you’re wonderful. Full of... wonder. Incredible, special things, Cas. God-dammit. And you give that to me, too. Wonder.” He put a hand over his eyes. “Sometimes I look at you and I’m like... wow. Wow, this guy exists. And he’s in my life. And he’s my best friend.” Now Dean looked carefully at Cas, peering into his eyes as he was overtaken by some desperate emotion, wanting more, now that he’d gotten the first part out.

“You make me glad to be alive,” Dean whispered, struck with chills at how his voice came out, guttural and needy and thick with emotion. “You make me laugh. Sometimes even when you’re not around, I just think about somethin’ you said to me once, and I laugh. Feels weird. But good, y’know?” He rolled a shoulder.

Castiel bit his lower lip, smiling. “Yeah, I know,” he said softly. “I do the same thing. I think about you when we’re apart. All the time, actually.”

“Yeah.” Dean pushed up a fond smile. “Same.”

“I’ve never—” Castiel lifted a hand, touching his lips. “I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you.”

Dean smiled, knowing easily it was true, but still appreciating the words being said aloud.

“As a human, I don’t think you’re even capable of realising how impressive that is,” Castiel remarked, catching Dean’s eyes. “Millenia passed and I obeyed. Obeyed, and loved only God. And now...?” He tilted his head deeply to one side, giving Dean an oh, you kinda look. “But,” Castiel went on, lifting his head, “I think you are fully capable of understanding and empathising with just about everything else I’ve thought and felt.” He looked down, rubbing one thumb against the other. “I welcome the comfort you give me. The things you share with me.” His eyes moved sideways, past Dean’s lap, to the other side of the motel room. “The things you keep from me.”

“I’m sorry I never told you,” Dean said, his apologetic tone tinted with some confusion. “I thought we were both on the same page. We— You know. Love each other.”

“We’re best friends,” Castiel nodded. “Yes, I know.”

“No,” Dean said softly, reaching to hold Castiel’s curled hand. “Well, yes. A hundred percent, yes. But, uh.” He cocked up a grin, letting it soften as Castiel met his gaze. “But also no?”

“No,” Castiel repeated, uncertain.

Dean gulped. “You’re— You’re in love with me.”

Castiel’s eyes rounded in fear. His mouth pressed closed.

Dean filled himself with a strengthening breath. “We’re in love with each other.”

Castiel searched Dean’s eyes. Left. Right. Left. Right. He tilted his head, lips parting, wary enough that he couldn’t smile.

“I mean it,” Dean nodded, urging his face forward by a few inches, putting himself within kissing distance. “Bottom of my heart, Cas.”

As if testing, Castiel said, slowly, “I love you, Dean.”

A shy smile fluttered onto Dean’s face, and he showed off a grin. “Hehhh.” Dean beamed fully, and nodded once. “I... love... you... too.”

The moment the words left him, they were no longer difficult words.

He didn’t remember ever saying those words to anyone but Sam and his mother.

They should never have been precious words. Rare ones. They should’ve been words he said so often they took pride of place in his vocabulary next to ‘awesome’ and ‘sonofabitch’. Because those words, the ‘I love you’ words, they expressed something he felt as commonly as he felt the ‘awesome’ and the ‘insert expletive of choice here’ kind of emotions.

Dean Winchester lived his life in awe, in frustration and anger, and maybe most of all, in love.

They should not have been precious words.

“I love you, Cas,” Dean said again. “I love you.”

Castiel only stared. His face remained shocked blank, but Dean saw the light of ecstasy in his eyes, gleaming like stars.

Sam giggled from the next bed, hugging his blanket and squealing under his breath. “Now kiss!” he cheered, bouncing on his pillow. “Kiss, kiss!”

Dean smiled. “I love you,” he said, one more time, still holding Castiel’s eyes. He slid his palm against Castiel’s cheek, keeping him steady as he leaned in. Roaring like a powerful flame in his heart, the words escaped him again, only this time a whisper: “I love you.” He placed a single kiss against Castiel’s lips.

Castiel’s breath shuddered in between their lips, stealing breath from Dean’s mouth.

He kissed back. Just once.

Dean smiled, and kissed him again.

Castiel took Dean’s cheek, mirroring his touch. They tilted their heads and surged into a deep embrace, Dean empty-minded, lips licked apart, tongue touched for the first time by the taste of saliva and pizza. Cas may have been an angel, but he tasted like anyone else. Yet, somehow, his lips on Dean’s felt blissfully familiar. Like entering a place he’d visited in a dream. Sleeping in a bed he’d slept in before. Going home, only to be welcomed by long-lost loved ones.

All the times Dean had fantasised about kissing Cas hadn’t been inaccurate. His chin was as bristly and firm as Dean had hoped.

Both Castiel’s hands gripped the back of Dean’s head, holding him. Keeping him. Hugging him close. Dean moaned, all his walls collapsing.

Perfect moments in Dean’s life were rare. As rare as those words.

But this? He knew what it was as it happened. This was genuinely, actually, absolutely one of Dean Winchester’s greatest hits. A-side. This was one of the tracks that got underlined in fluorescent pink when he wrote on the cassette label. Top five, right next to fireworks with Sam, sandwiches with Mom, LARPing with Charlie, and driving alone in the Impala for the first time, with Led Zeppelin blaring on the radio.

Dean fell from their kiss, smiling so much that his face couldn’t handle it, and the majority of his joy was forced to throw a riot inside him. He laughed, shyly hiding his face under a hand. He could hear Cas smiling. He could hear Sam being adorably delighted.

“‘Kay,” Dean whispered, trying to settle his grin. He touched the back of his hand to his cheek, feeling how it burned hot. “You satisfied now, Sammy?”

Sam bounced on the bed, nodding. “Uh-huh!”

“Okay.” Dean stood up, bending close to Sam to kiss his forehead yet again. “Now get some sleep, alright? Lights out.”

“‘Kaaay.” Sam giggled again, falling back among the covers. He hugged the spare pillow like a teddy bear, eyes locked lovingly on Dean. “I love you, Dean.” He looked over at Cas. “I love you, Cas.”

“We love you too, Sam,” Castiel said softly. The warmth of his hand touched Dean’s back, setting off sunshine explosions inside Dean’s body. Castiel reached to put out the light, and again the motel room went dark.

Dean heard Castiel’s breath, and felt a gust of his warmth as Castiel turned.

They left the bed, then gathered by the loveseat under the window, but didn’t sit down.

“So,” Dean said, not even attempting to fight his giant smile.

Castiel just chuckled, touching his own lips.

Dean laughed out a breath too, unsure what to say.

“Will you sleep?” Castiel asked him. “You’ve had a long day.”

“Me and you both,” Dean said, pushing Castiel’s chest. “Seriously, Cas, I wouldn’t have gotten through today without your help. Crazy situation. Pretty decent solutions, in the end, though, huh?”

“Yeah.” Castiel touched Dean’s chest with his fingertips, thumbing at a button on his henley.

Dean inhaled, smiling, lifting a shoulder. “Youuuu, uh. Gonna stick around?”

“Of course. Where else would I rather be?” Castiel lay his palm fully against Dean’s heart.

Unable to help himself, Dean pressed his hand over Castiel’s. They both felt his heart skip a beat.

Sharing a flustered, embarrassed laugh, they eased away from each other, Dean scratching his neck, Castiel tugging on his shirt.

“Get some rest, Dean,” Castiel said. “I’ll watch over you.”

Dean searched for Castiel’s gaze, and found it. They held tight for a while. A smile rose on Dean’s lips, signalling his appreciation. Castiel nodded once.

Turning away, Dean undid his jeans, kicked them to the floor, and threw off his t-shirt. In the new silence, he heard the trickle of the rain on the roof. He saw Castiel’s protective shadow in the light from the window. He climbed into bed under the presence of this angelic shadow, turning until his eyes were sheltered from the light by Castiel’s silhouette.

“You gonna stand there all night?” Dean asked.

Castiel chuckled to himself. “What would you prefer I do? Sit?” He tilted his head in a teasing sort of way. “Or...?”

Dean licked his lips. He eyed the space in the bed next to him.

Not bothering to think, he reached over and wrenched back the covers. “Let’s go with the ‘or’.”

Castiel breathed out, shoulders sinking down. “I have one question.”

Dean bristled. “Okay.”

“Should I take my pants off?”

Dean snickered, biting his lower lip. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I hate that scratchy material. I dunno why you don’t wear jeans, Cas. Denim softens up when you wear it, I promise.” He watched without shame as Castiel looked down to unbutton his pants.

“Maybe I’ll try jeans,” Castiel said, taking off his shoes, then kicking off his pants.

Dean shrugged. “Borrow mine when we get back to the bunker.”

“All right.” Castiel stepped on his socks to remove them, and then, finally, shed his shirt. He discarded it on the carpet, as carelessly as Dean discarded his own clothes.

Dean dared not look as Castiel climbed into bed with him.

But the moment the mattress quit wobbling, Dean turned his cheek to the pillow, meeting Castiel’s shining midnight-blue eyes, inches away. They shared a pillow.

“Dean?” Castiel asked. Tentatively, his hand prodded Dean’s ribs under the blanket – and as Dean reached for him, they held hands. Castiel smiled. “I love you.”

For maybe the twentieth time tonight, Dean flushed head to toe with pleasure.

He shut his eyes as Castiel gave him a kiss. Then another. Then another.

One soft one.

One smoochy one.

One slow one.

They snuggled close, not needing to ask how. Their bodies sank towards each other’s warmth, as if they’d practiced.

With one hand slung over Castiel’s hip, and his nose tucked against Castiel’s cheek, Dean exhaled. He emptied his lungs, and banished every reservation he’d ever had about loving Cas, and expressing as much out loud.

And yet, with nothing to keep him from saying those words again, he found he didn’t need to.

Because Dean lying in Castiel’s arms, letting himself be held, kissed, and protected through the night – that said it all.

Sam woke in a flash of light. Fresh, morning light, replenished by a storm.

Last night—

Lights out.

That was the last piece of the puzzle. The final ingredient, the switch that activated everything else they’d found.

As was common knowledge to the Winchesters, death did not mean an absolute end. In most cases, death was the catalyst for something new to begin in the same place.

The light of one day died. Another was born as the sun rose. The Death of the Light was sleep.

Sam sat up, nude, taller than he’d been when he fell asleep. He touched his cheeks, bristly under his fingers. He touched his chest, wide and muscular. He lifted the bedsheets— Yup. All in one piece. All his kiddie clothes were torn in half, however. He must’ve ripped them as he grew.

Sam grinned and looked to his left, seeing the second bed. He saw the lump in the sheets, recognising Dean—

And then he saw Cas, lying right beside him.

A bolt of shock stirred up Sam’s old thoughts, memories from last night.

Had he really made them do that? Tell each other they were in love? And then kiss?!

Holy shhhh...oot.

Sam knew he had a good amount of influence over his brother and Cas, but this—? “Wow.” Sam held his face, shaking his head in overwhelm. “Wow wow wow.”

Apparently Dean and Cas had taken things a step further, the moment Sam had fallen unconscious. Sharing a bed?! Sam wondered what else they’d done. He could see Dean’s bare shoulders peeking out from under the sheets. Maybe they were naked.

A huff of a grin passed Sam’s lips, impressed Dean had been such a good sport. It was one thing to pander to his baby brother’s every whim – everything from the tiny thrifted rainboots with rainbows on them (Sam was keeping those), to the extra olives on his pizza – but it was another thing entirely to allow a toddler to turn Dean’s love life upside down, just by wishing.

On unsteady legs, Sam stretched out, setting his bare feet on the carpet. He covered himself with his hands, tiptoeing around Dean and Cas’ bed. Aha! He found some clothes on the floor, and hurriedly dressed himself in Dean’s too-tight jeans and ill-fitting t-shirt, foregoing the underwear. Damn Dean for not thinking to bring Sam-sized luggage when they left the bunker. Apparently he hadn’t expected they’d stay out overnight, or be successful in reversing the spell.

After a visit to the bathroom, Sam stepped outside the motel room, needing to reacquaint himself with the size of the world. He took a few minutes to stand on the upstairs balcony, breathing deeply, inhaling the mingled scents of traffic and trees.

He felt Dean’s phone in his pocket.

Eventually, he reached for it, and looked up Rowena’s number.

She picked up on the third ring.

“No luck yet, precious? Awh, too bad. Do you want a hint?”

Sam gave a chuckle, tipping his chin down. “Actually, I think they did pretty well.”

“Ahhh!” Rowena sounded both delighted and proud. “You’re all grown up again! So sad I wasn’t there to see them. All schmoopy and snoogly. Wee lovebirds.”

“You could’ve told me you were going to curse me, you know,” Sam said, a wrinkle between his brows. “Or warned me you’d wipe my memory, at least.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Sam rolled his eyes, muttering to himself, “God, I thought that second cup of tea tasted different.”

“Honestly, Sam. You can’t just share a cup of tea with a witch. You ought to know that whatever you tell her is going to be used for magic.”

“Magic, right,” Sam muttered, placing a hand over his eyes.

“Ohhh, Rowena,” Rowena grumbled deeply, apparently mimicking Sam, “I just wish they’d dooo something about how they feel...”

“That is not what I said.”

“It was implied,” Rowena said dismissively. “And not wrong, either, since they wouldn’t have been able to reverse the spell unless your greatest wish was to—”

“Have them confess their love, okay, okay,” Sam said quickly. “Fine. Whatever. You were right.”

“Hah! Dean and Castiel aren’t the only ones who don’t like to say what they really think, now, are they? There would’ve been no need for me to get involved, if only you’d told them you wish they’d get together.”

Sam gritted his teeth, staring at the parking lot below, where the dawn light gleamed across the raindrop-dotted roof of the Impala.

“I’m waitiiiing...”

Sam snorted. “Th—” He collected himself, then spoke more softly. “Thank you, Rowena.”

“Yooou’re welcooome!” Rowena sang. “Next time I need your help, I expect you three amigos to drop everything and be here before I even snap my fingers.”

“Mm.” Sam ran his hand through his hair. It felt kinda soft. He might just ask Dean what conditioner he’d used, since it clearly worked wonders.

But he’d only ask once Dean and Cas woke up. Sam remembered every detail of the day gone by, and he knew for a fact that suddenly, unexpectedly, and unwillingly acquiring a toddler to care for was a sure recipe for exhaustion, even if little Sam was well-behaved. Dean in particular deserved a lie-in.

“Hope you have a good day, Sam,” Rowena said. “Let those two know I meant them no real harm, won’t you.”

Sam smiled for real this time. “I think they know.”

“And what about you?”

After a few moments, Sam nodded. “Yeah. I know.”

“Ta-ta, Sam. Don’t forget you owe me!”

“Bye, Rowena. Thanks again.”

The call ended, and Sam slipped the phone back into his pocket. He took one last deep breath, then returned to the motel room, opening up the door.

He stopped dead in the doorway, inhaling. The bed before him rocked on its legs, sheets swaying; soft, rhythmic grunts of pleasure came from near the headboard. Dean emerged from under the sheets, kneeling face-down, breathing out as he smiled, whispering, “Shit, yeah, like that, Cas. Mmmyeah.”

Castiel laughed, a rumbly, purring sort of laugh. He tugged the sheets down to show his face: pink-cheeked, wet-lipped, eyes dark with lust. All his attention was focused on Dean, as they moved together, rocking forward and back, forward and back.

“Oh... God,” Sam breathed, frozen, unable to blink.

Dean attention whipped to the door. “Dude!” He jerked to clutch the sheets against his naked body, but did so in a way that made his erection even more obvious. Castiel was wide-eyed, mouth open over Dean’s pinkened neck. He hugged his body tighter against Dean’s, but did not fully cease his humping.

In a flustered rush, Dean yelped, “W-We heard you leave! We knew the reversal worked, we wouldn’t have otherwise— Sam, quit looking!”

“I’m not!” Sam turned his whole face away. “Oh my God.”

Dean’s breath shuddered. “It just— It just seemed like the right moment!”

“I don’t dispute that!” Sam said, waggling a hand back and forth through the air, trying to erase the shape of Dean and Cas’ intertwined bodies from his peripheral vision. “You guys – carry on, I’m gonna— I’ll just wait out here.”

“Yeah, you do that,” Dean grumbled. “Go find me some clothes, since you stole mine.”

Sam backed away a bit, then darted forward, muttering, “Congratulations, by the way—”

“LATER!” Dean yelled.

Sam huffed and slammed the door between them. The last thing he heard was Castiel bursting out laughing, trying to make Dean shout quieter.

Sam held tight to the door handle, grinning, shaking a bit. He squeezed his eyes tight together.

What a traumatic sight for young eyes.

Swaying his head to dislodge the mental images – still rocking, dammit – Sam reminded himself he was fully grown. And he had, technically, asked for this. Maybe he got way, way more than he bargained for. But Rowena was right. This was his greatest wish. And Dean and Cas had made it come true.

Apparently, once they had begun to communicate their feelings in a healthier manner, the rest of the relationship that had been waiting to happen was now falling into place. Sex life and all.

Gross.

But also sweet?

Sam rolled his eyes, and left them to it, deciding to go wait in the car. He had a funny feeling that now Dean and Cas were madly in love and unafraid to show it – especially in front of Sam – he was about to stumble into a lifestyle where their love was impossible to escape.

Still. This was better than the alternative.

Right?

Yeah.

Totally.

Sam took shelter in the passenger seat, hands tucked under his arms. He’d made up his mind. In the past day, he’d ‘been a child’ about plenty of things. An ugly new coat. The best flavour of granola. Olives. Bathtime. Bedtime stories. But now he was all grown up again. So he could be an adult about this.

He could be mature. Sensible. Not tease Dean about his sex voice every day for two weeks straight.

Yet, being an adult didn’t stop Sam from feeling a core-deep, child-like glee at what he’d accidentally accomplished, with the help of a friend. His greatest wish had come true. And child or not, things seemed pretty obvious to Sam...

Rowena’s whole thing only worked out for one reason, and one reason only. Dean and Castiel’s greatest wishes had come true, too.