Chapter Text
Castiel Novak had always considered himself among the most powerful Witches, and for good reason: he had led his old coven in battle against demons time and again, and they came out victorious until there was no trace of demon activity for over 200 years. He had done that and much, much more in his 318 years of life, yet he couldn’t counter a simple curse for the past three.
The backstory: Being asexual, Castiel hadn’t really thought much about a relationship for the majority of his long life until about twenty years ago. You see, twenty years ago, Castiel met and fallen in love with a Familiar named Dean Winchester. And that changed everything . They met at a bar for Magics (in Kansas of all places). They had a few drinks and began talking about more and more personal things. Then Dean had asked Castiel on a date. And Castiel said yes.
The rest sort of fell into place after that. They eventually moved in together, and a few years later had a small pagan wedding in their backyard. Dean’s brother, Sam, and his Witch, Eileen, attended, as did a few of Dean and Castiel’s mutual friends. Gods, it was beautiful. Castiel had never before been so grateful for modern photographic technology to help him remember every detail.
And, more recently, to help him remember every detail of Dean’s human face.
The Curse: Three years ago today, one of the few demons Castiel’s coven had failed to eradicate came out of hiding and sought revenge. He came for Castiel, came to get him where it hurts: Dean. Luckily, Castiel hadn’t been far away, just down the road getting ingredients for a potion at the market, and felt the wards around their house being breached. He dropped everything and teleported there just in time to distract the demon so his curse on Dean wasn’t complete.
Dean had been lounging on the sofa in his tabby form when the Demon entered and caught him off guard; Dean knew some magic, and could have defended himself if he’d had time.
But he didn’t.
The demon entered, Castiel appeared, the demon struck, and Castiel immediately killed him with a spell which left Cas sapped of energy. He’d slumped for a moment and Dean tried to shift and go to him, but realized he was unable to. He began to panic, and Castiel rushed to his aid.
Castiel worked to calm Dean, who was hyperventilating. Castiel stroked him from head to tail in the soothing way he knew Dean liked. He also used the physical contact to search for what was wrong. His powers were weakened from the intense spell he’d cast, but he could nonetheless sense something very wrong inside of Dean, something that was keeping him trapped in this form. Castiel talked to Dean, reassured him he would fix this, that he would be able to transform again. He picked Dean up and cradled him to his chest as he sat down in the chair to study the curse more. He was exhausted, but nothing would keep him from trying.
And he still tries, Three Years Later:
Castiel wakes to find Dean perched on his chest, his purrs rumbling through Castiel’s sternum. Castiel smiles sleepily and scratches between Dean’s ears. Dean opens his bright green eyes slowly, blinks a few times, then stretches and lets out a long yawn.
Mornin’, Sunshine. Dean’s deep voice enters Castiel’s mind as Dean continues purring and pushes his face into Castiel’s, demanding more scratches. Castiel obliges.
Castiel had figured out fairly quickly after the curse how to communicate with Dean. He’d found a spell in a hundred-year-old book on Familiars that allows a Familiar to transmit thoughts from their mind to that of their Bonded Witch. It was supposed to be a temporary solution to a temporary problem, but has turned into their normal mode of communication.
Dean stretches again and meows at Castiel to get his attention.
Whatchya thinkin’, Cas?
Castiel hadn’t known a cat could display so many emotions of their face until he met Dean, as he certainly does now: head tilted, eyes wide, brow furrowed. Castiel buys time by scratching under Dean’s chin. Dean starts purring again, but soon swats away Castiel’s hand with his paw.
Don’t distract me. I mean it, man. What’s buggin’ you?
“It’s...nothing, Dean.” No, it’s everything. Three years. Three years, and he’s failed to heal his love. “Just a nightmare again,” he says without meeting Dean’s eyes. That was partly true; he had endured yet another nightmare, something he’s been working on a potion to help, but most of his daily energy is spent looking for a cure for Dean.
Dean moves forward and licks the tip of Castiel’s nose - his way of kissing him. You’ll have that potion done soon, right? Your nightmares always get worse this time of year.
“Yes, I should.” So, Dean remembers what today is. Of course he would: he’s affected monumentally more than Castiel, yet seems less burdened - or is really good at hiding it. Castiel looks over at the wardrobe to the right that he knows holds all of Dean’s clothing. He will find a way. He will cure him. He has to.
...But what if he can’t? What if Dean is stuck like this for the rest of his life? All because Castiel failed on a mission? He’d set out to rid the world of demons, and he’d thought he’d done it. He was so sure of himself, of his prowess as the youngest Witch to lead a coven, the youngest Witch to prove himself as the most powerful Magic of the century; he’d been too cocky, made a mistake, and now Dean was forced to deal with the consequences.
Witches and Familiars are born from other Magics, but while Witches have a lifespan of at least 500 years, Familiars only live around 150 - until they Bond at least: then they live until their Witch dies, and age more slowly. Dean and Castiel Bonded when they married. It doesn’t have to be a marriage, though; not all Witch-Familiar relationships are romantic, though it is more common, and theirs most certainly is. So, Dean would potentially be stuck in this form for hundreds of years more. If Castiel couldn’t fix this he-
Castiel’s train of thought is cut off by a feline screech and his face is pelted by a mass of brown fur. “Dean!” Castiel moves to pull Dean off, but Dean wraps his limbs around Cas’s head and neck and digs in his claws.
No brooding on my watch!
“Dean,” Castiel sighs, exasperated but amused as he tries to unlatch his husband from his head. Just as he gets one paw unstuck, another set of claws dig into his skin.
You’re only making this harder for yourself, Cas.
Castiel can’t help but grin at the smirk in Dean’s voice. He closes his eyes and pictures that on Dean’s human face, pictures Dean’s perfect lips, his freckles and stubble and long, long eyelashes…
His ear is in Dean’s mouth. Dean put Castiel’s ear in his fucking mouth. “That’s it.” Castiel grabs Dean firmly in both hands and mutters a quick spell that tickles Dean. Dean spasms and Castiel raises him above his head as he himself lays flat on the bed.
Dean meows and writhes, laughing in his mind. I-SAID-NO-FUCKING-BROODING! MAGIC’S-NO-FAIR!
Castiel doesn’t stop the laugh that escapes him. “Do you promise to stop attacking my head?”
Yeah, yeah! Whatever! Just MAKE IT STOP!
Castiel waits a moment longer, savoring Dean’s laughter, before saying the counter curse. As soon as the words leave his lips, Dean sighs in relief and hangs limp in Castiel’s hands.
Holy Bast, Cas. That wasn’t fair and you know it. He sounds irritated, but his tail flicks and there’s a glint in his eyes that lets Castiel know he’s joking.
“I do believe you initiated this, Dean. Besides, you put my ear in your mouth.” Castiel smirks as Dean rolls his eyes.
Come on, Cas. Some people like that. It’s a kinky thing. Boy, can cats grin.
Castiel rolls his eyes and lowers his arms so Dean can sit on his chest. They lock eyes for a few moments and Dean sticks out his tongue. Castiel finally smiles.
Alright! I did it! Dean purrs again and pushes his face into Castiel’s affectionately.
“You did. You always do.” Castiel pulls Dean to him and wraps him in a hug, letting Dean’s purrs calm him. He knows it isn’t that terrible for Dean to be in this form. Before the curse he needed to transform half the time anyway, as is the nature of a Familiar; they need to be in animal form at least half the time in order to feel their best and balance their magic. Dean has told Castiel on several occasions that he doesn’t really mind this, that it’s annoying sometimes to not have opposable thumbs at will, and he does miss being able to properly be with Castiel - and being taller than him - but it isn’t nearly as bad as Castiel thinks.
Yes, Castiel wants to lift the curse mainly for selfish reasons. He wants to feel Dean’s arms around him, wants to kiss his lips, wants to run his hands through Dean’s human hair, wants to hear his voice other than in his mind. He knows Dean wants that too, but yes, this is mostly for himself. To set things right; to atone for his mistakes; to prove that he can. And he hates admitting that, even to himself.
So, he focuses instead on Dean as he is, tail happily flicking back and forth as he snuggles under Castiel’s chin, rubbing his face against Castiel’s unshaven stubble. Castiel holds Dean a bit tighter, stroking his back with one hand. “I love you, Dean. More than anything.”
Dean snuggles up closer to Castiel, a small chirp escaping with his purr. Castiel smiles as Dean twists so he can see Castiel’s face and places his right paw on Castiel’s cheek. I love you too, Cas, more than anything. But you know what I would love almost as much? Castiel tilts his head and squints, but can hear the smirk in Dean’s voice as he continues. If you made me breakfast.
Castiel sighs and roles his eyes as Dean laughs. Then he grabs Dean, rolls over onto his elbows, pins him down, and tickles him.
Hey! Not fair!
Castiel just grins. “No magic this time. Therefore, by your earlier sentiment, this is, indeed, fair.”
Fuck you and your logic! Dean says, then writhes and bites Castiel’s left wrist.
Castiel inhales sharply at the puncture and pulls his hands back just long enough for Dean to escape and dart to the end of the bed, tail puffed up, pupils dilated, and head low.
“Artemis and Asclepius!” Castiel shakes out his wrist and shifts so he can grab for Dean who meows loudly. Dean leaps from the end of the bed and runs out the open bedroom door, claws skidding on the hardwood floor. Castiel smiles, watching Dean’s bushy, striped tail disappear around the doorframe. As he flicks his wrist to heal the small punctures, he pushes up from the bed to chase after Dean.
Castiel goes down the hall, checking in the bathroom and guest bedroom - they always keep the doors cracked for Dean to have easy access. Castiel checks in Dean’s usual hiding places, as today’s antics are a regular occurrence: the laundry hamper in the bathroom, under the dresser in the guest bedroom, and in the nest that Castiel made into a part of the catwalk he’d installed after Dean moved in.
“Dean,” Castiel calls, “I propose a truce.” He creeps towards the couch in the living room and lifts up a suspicious pillow, but there’s only Dean’s stash of catnip mice under it. Castiel hums to himself and replaces the pillow, scanning the rest of the room with his eyes. He just barely detects a shift of the curtain covering the Eastern window. Castiel grins, then heads for the kitchen. “Well, if you don’t come out, you’ll miss breakfast.”
I dunno, Cas, sounds like a ploy. I don’t trust it.
Castiel cuts his eyes over to the curtain, then back to the cabinet in front of him. He opens the dark oak door, grabs a tub of oats, and shakes it so the grains shuffle.
Dude! Not fair!
“Hmm…” Castiel goes about preparing the oatmeal, filling a pot with water and setting it to boil. He adds the oats then begins cutting up apples and bananas. As he finishes chopping, Castiel notes a soft plat sound that he recognizes well. He smiles to himself as he turns off the burner and adds a bit of honey and milk to the oats, then stirs in the fruit.
Just as Castiel finishes pouring the second bowl of oatmeal, there’s a small huff behind him and four sets of claws dig into his lower back. Castiel sucks in a breath at the sharp pricks as Dean climbs to perch on Castiel’s right shoulder. Castiel nuzzles his head against his husband. “Hello, Dean. I suppose you decided to trust me again?”
No, my hunger won, not you. He licks Castiel’s cheek. Though, you’re smilin’ again, which means I win on a technicality.
Castiel rolls his eyes. “Fine.” He places the pot in the sink, picks up the bowls and a spoon, then walks them both to the kitchen table. “For today.” Castiel sets the bowls and spoon down and has a seat as Dean jumps off his shoulder and lands gracefully on the table. Castiel pushes the bowl on the right towards Dean and kisses him on the forehead. “I made your favorite.”
Thanks, Angel, Dean says as he sticks his head in the bowl and begins lapping up the oats. Castiel sets his chin in his hand and stirs his oatmeal, watching Dean. He notes how Dean retains the same body language - somehow - in either form he takes, walking with the same bow-legged strut, carrying himself proudly, moving so fluidly (something Castiel suspects is derived from his feline form). And his love for food has never wavered.
Dean’s fur is thick and long, making him seem bigger than he is, but over the past years he has grown a bit of pudge, something Castiel absolutely adores. Dean was embarrassed about it at first, but got over it quickly when he realized Castiel thought it was cute.
As if on cue, Dean looks up at castiel, oatmeal stuck to his whiskers. Castiel snickers and Dean meows loudly back at him.
The fuck you laughin’ at?
“You.”
Dean sticks out his tongue again and continues eating. Castiel figures the gesture was, in this instance at least, a replacement for his middle finger.
They both finish their oatmeal, and Castiel magics the bowls into the sink for later as he stands and pushes in his chair. He bends backwards to pop his back then rolls his neck. “I’m gonna head to the workshop, do you want me to put on a movie, or-”
A meow interrupts him, and Castiel tilts his head.
Come on, Cas, you’re always workin’, even on weekends. Can’t ya take a break today?
Castiel looks into Dean’s eyes and can see a hint of sadness, could even hear a bit of pleading in his voice. Then he feels a pulse in their Bond as Dean sends a wash of affection towards Castiel. Castiel reaches back on his end, and can feel the sadness lurking under Dean’s barriers. Perhaps today is affecting him more than he let on, afterall.
“Of course, Dean.” Castiel reaches towards his husband and Dean moves forward so Castiel can pick him up. Dean purrs as Castiel wraps him in his arms, and Castiel hums happily when Dean nuzzles his head into Castiel’s neck.
Thanks, man. I- Dean stops purring and grows still. Castiel tenses in response and pauses mid-way through stroking Dean down his spine. Hey, no, Cas, it’s okay, Dean twists so he can look Castiel in the eyes. I...I just need to let you know, well...it does bother me some. The curse, ya know? Just...I don’t feel...I mean... He looks down, not meeting Castiel’s concerned squint. Do I make you happy, Castiel? Like this?
Castiel’s eyes widen; his mouth opens, but no words come out. He sees Dean glance up at him then shoot his gaze back down. “Dean, why-”
I don’t know, man, it’s stupid, Dean shrugs, but still doesn’t look up. You’ve been looking for a cure since the day I was cursed, and, like, I really appreciate it and all, but it’s been three fuckin’ years, and zip. But that’s not my point… Dean shifts again and flicks his tail anxiously. It just feels like...and I know this is stupid, but I can’t get it out of my head - but it feels like you can’t be happy unless I’m human. Like, I dunno, it’s like I can’t make you happy when I’m stuck like this ‘cuz we can’t do everything the same, and Cas, man, I want that too, I really do, I wanna hold you and kiss you and go out in public and not have people think I’m your pet. I get it. But…this is part of who I am, it always has been, and...it feels like...you don’t really accept that part of me. Like I’m not enough - and this may be all I can give for forever, and it just scares the hell out of me that I can’t give you everything you want, and that I’m not enough, and-
Dean cut’s off as Castiel sinks to the floor and sets him on the ground. Castiel puts his head in his hands, the cool metal of his wedding ring pressing against his forehead. How could he cause Dean all this grief? How could he make him feel so badly about himself? How could he not see how much he was hurting his love?
“Dean, I-” Castiel moves his hands to grip his hair, keeping his eyes closed because he can’t bear to look at Dean. “I am so truly, deeply sorry. And I know words can only do so much, and I can’t- I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been. I-” He digs his nails into his head, can feel sparks of magic pulsing from his hands. He knows he shouldn’t lose control like this, that he needs to contain his magic, but he just feels so guilty. “I love you, Dean. I love you for you , not what form you are, and I need you, and I want you, and I can’t imagine my life without you.” He chokes out the words through his tears, fast and messy and raw. “Of course you’re enough! I can’t believe how selfish I’ve been to make you believe you aren’t worth more than a vessel...Dean, do you feel it?”
Castiel can feel his magic filling the room, can feel it pulsing with his emotions. And he knows his walls on their Bond are down and that Dean can feel everything he feels, and knows it can be overwhelming, and knows he should stop it, but he just can’t . Castiel sits there shaking, trying desperately to hold in his tears at least, and it’s so quiet and tense in the room he would think Dean left, but he can feel his presence through the Bond.
I do, Angel, I do. After what feels like an eternity, Dean’s voice breaks through the blaring self-hatred in Castiel’s mind. And it’s not your fault, Cas. The curse is not your fault. Dean worms his way onto Castiel’s lap and up to where he can push his face into Castiel’s, just like earlier that morning. Do ya hear me?
“Yes.” Castiel somehow manages to get the word out through the lump in his throat.
But if you want forgiveness? You got it, Buddy. I see how much you love me. I see. He pauses a beat. I really see, Cas. Open your eyes.
Castiel wipes his eyes on his sleeve then obliges - and sees the room is filled with flowers growing from every surface, shimmering with sparks of magic. “Oh…” Castiel looks around and sees that they aren’t just any flowers; they are matched to his emotions: bluebells for humility; purple hyacinths for sorrow and pleading for forgiveness; white tendrils of ivy for anxiousness to please; peonies for shame; pink roses for ‘please believe me’; lavender for devotion; and arbutus, aster, red chrysanthemums, forget-me-nots, jonquil, and so many red roses for ‘I love you’.
Castiel clears his throat and wipes his nose on his sleeve, then gives Dean a hesitant half-smile. Dean chirps in response and rubs against Castiel’s chest, over his heart. You should give up control more often, man; this is beautiful.
Castiel hufs. “It might not have been. I could’ve blown out all the lights and windows, or turned off gravity, or, I don’t know, something equally horrific.”
You’re no fun.
“ You are.”
Sap.
“Callous.”
Prude.
“Reckless.”
Yeah, and you love it. Dean grins up at Castiel.
“I do, indeed.” Castiel maneuvers so he can hold both of Dean’s front paws in his hands. “I love you, Dean, so very, very much. I was being selfish, and didn’t stop to consider how that affected you. Yes, I miss how things used to be, but that doesn’t mean I love you any less.” He bows his head so their foreheads touch and closes his eyes. “If anything, I treasure you even more since that day...I could have lost you, Dean, had I been any slower. And… and I couldn’t have handled that.” Castiel shivvers involuntarily, remembering his panic when he felt the wards breached three years ago.
Dean licks Castiel’s nose, using their Bond to send comfort Castiel’s way.
“Thank you.” Castiel opens his eyes and looks into Dean’s, such a deep green filled with flecks of gold; his pupils are wide. Castiel looks down, then back into Dean’s eyes. “Dean, I need you to believe me. You were, will be, and are enough - more than ‘enough’ - better than I’d ever thought I’d have. I don’t care if we never fix the curse; you’re still you. I’ve been...blind. I let my guilt drive me, let it make me miss out on what we do have. I love you , Dean, and you make me so, so happy.”
Thanks, Cas. You’re pretty alright yourself.
Castiel moves backwards and blinks at Dean, tilting his head slightly.
Dean stares back for a few seconds before flopping over to his side and laughing. I’m jokin’, Cas. He crawls back into Castiel’s lap and nudges his hand. Ya know I’m not great at the sappy stuff, but that means a lot, Angel. Thank you.
Castiel rolls his eyes and grabs Dean, cradling him upside down in his arms and scratching his belly. Dean grumbles about how he’s ‘not a baby, Cas; damnit,’ but purrs nonetheless.
And, just like that, they’re back to normal - or, as ‘normal’ as they can be.