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"What is your New Year's resolution, Cas?"
The fire crackled in the fireplace and tiny embers shot against the cracked brick. A thin thread of music floated through the apartment, soaking into the gray walls.
"Resolution?" Cas muttered, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.
Dean shifted against Cas' chest. Their legs were entwined on the green couch and Cas' arm held Dean tight to his chest. The slow thrum of Cas’ heart was making Dean sleepy as each beat thrummed against his back.
"Ya, you know. Like a goal for the new year," Dean replied. Cas raised his eyebrows as he considered the idea.
"Why do I need a goal for the new year?"
Dean grinned at the angel's obliviousness.
"I think that people like the idea that a new year is like a fresh start. That the new year will bring new chances for them. Some people say they are going to work out more, or eat better. Most people forget them by February, but some make it to at least March!"
Cas hummed in understanding. It seemed like an odd tradition to him, but he went with it.
Around them, the candles set on the mantle flickered and the wind outside tried to push through the glass windows. Cas had turned up the heat but he was still cold, so he had enlisted Dean to be his personal blanket that evening. They had watched a movie and made hot chocolate, but Cas hadn’t really liked it so his mug sat forgotten and probably very cold on the side table.
"Do you have a resolution, Dean?" Cas inquired thoughtfully. Cas carded a hand through Dean’s sandy hair.
Dean was quiet for a moment as he considered his question. Cas felt Dean’s chest move against his body as he breathed, and he tightened the arm that was around his boyfriend. Dean not talking meant that he was overthinking or was lost in memories.
Both tended to not be good.
"When we were little,” Dean started slowly, “Sam always had the same New Year's goal. He’d always come up to me on the 31st and tug on my sleeve until I knelt down and then he’d tell me in his lisp-y little kid way. It was that he would go to college and that he would live in a big house like they did on the TV shows that we’d watch in the hotel rooms. Eventually the goal morphed into wanting to go to college at Stanford and getting married. You know, the whole white picket fence idea. I always told him that that is not something that he can accomplish in a year but, he was never discouraged. He’d just shoot me that dopey grin with missing teeth and tell me that ‘I was stupid,’ and that, ‘of course it would come true because he wished on it when the clock turned 11:11.’ He was born a hunter, and I think to an extent I loathed John for letting that happen to him," Dean muttered, anger leaking into his voice.
"I was so afraid that he would never get out, Cas. So scared that he'd end up like me. My single goal every year was to get Sammy out before he can't anymore and I failed. I thought that maybe if I didn’t make any wishes, that his would have more of a chance of coming true." Dean shook his head as if to clear his mind of the memories. Cas ran a hand through Dean's messy hair and he leaned into the contact.
"If I could, I'd heal those scars. Those bloody wounds that never closed. John had no right to do that to two little boys." Cas kissed the top of his head and buried his nose in his hair smelling Dean's shampoo. He felt the soft sobs that started to jerk Dean's body on top of him.
He hated this. Seeing Dean like this. Shattered into tiny pieces of darkness and doubt that can’t be whisked away with a touch. Cas may be an angel, but the demons Dean faced did not cower at his angel grace.
So all he could do was hold him. Hold the man that meant the world to him and that made him hate the father he was raised with. Hold him and hope that someday Dean would forgive himself for the past he did not hold the brush while painting. Hold him and whisper nothings into his head until they flooded out the black twisted shadows.
After a few minutes, Dean's heaves of air were reduced to wet sniffles. As Cas was about to ask him if he wanted some water, Dean twisted his body so he lay on his stomach. He pulled himself up to Cas' neck and buried his face in the corner. He nosed his way up to behind Cas' ear and Cas rumbled at the contact.
"I'm sorry," Dean murmurs softly after a moment. Cas shakes his head adamantly at the apology and with his free hand he lifted Dean's face so he could meet his eyes.
Dean's moss green eyes were red rimmed and his cheeks were wet with tears. Cas broke a little inside seeing his boyfriend so distraught.
"Dean, Sam coming back into hunting is not your fault," Cas told him firmly. Dean's eyes darkened and he turned away sharply.
Cas gently guided his eyes back to his and Dean met his eyes warily.
"Sam came back to hunting because he wanted to. Because he wanted to save the world and do some good. You did not force him," Cas told Dean quietly. Another tear trailed down Dean's cheek.
"Breathe, darling. Breathe."
Cas pulled Dean back into the crook of his neck and he felt Dean take large heaves of air.
"Your whole life you have been living for your brother. You've had to protect him and care for him and be the parent he never truly had. You raised him to be the fierce but kind hunter that we all know and love. He may have been born a hunter, but he became so much more than that. You gave him the opportunity for a life. But he is okay, Dean. You don’t need to protect him anymore" Cas felt Dean smile slightly against his neck.
"Just okay?" He muttered weakly.
"Oh shush. I'm trying to be supportive here."
Dean chuckled and Cas smacked his arm.
Dean quieted and settled into Cas' side.
"In all seriousness, Sam grew up to be a smart, brave, loyal man and that was all thanks to you. So this year, make a resolution for yourself, not for him. " Dean grumbled but a grin pulled at the corner of his mouth.
"I didn't do anything, Cas. Plus, I wasn’t too good of a parent anyways, “ Dean joked, his tone lighter than before. “I think Sam’s favorite meal I made was mac and cheese with whatever was under a dollar at the gas station." Dean shifted so he was looking at Cas who smiled slowly.
The record playing faltered as it reached the end and the needle emitted a soft buzz before the house went silent.
A blanket of quiet drifted into the room and neither of them spoke, letting the silence envelope them both.
After a few moments, Dean's voice cut into the nothing.
"What's your resolution, Cas? Enough about me and my sob story" His deep voice rumbled through his chest.
Cas pondered the question for a moment.
"I've lived for thousands upon thousands of years. I've been through countless wars and strife. Seen famine wipe out entire countries. Lived through deaths and births. Let disease spread through nations. Watched good people go to war. I’ve conformed to the rules of heaven and never questioned them. I was a pawn. Nothing more than a bug on God’s shoulder,” Cas muttered bitterly. “My goals, like yours, were quite consistent- follow the orders.”
Dean shifted in Cas’ grasp and grabbed his free hand, pressing it against his rough palm. Cas immediately felt more grounded and he tried to ignore the rising anger.
“I don’t think I ever got the chance to think for my own, so I didn’t really make true goals. I guess now I have a chance to.” Cas quieted as he thought, letting the silence seep back into the room.
“My ‘resolution’ as you call it, would be to find myself. Or work to that I suppose.” Dean turned to look at him, his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.
“I believed for so long that I was heaven's guardian, and to do my job, I had to be the perfect soldier. I realize now that that wasn’t true, I was just scared of being myself. Scared of having opinions and going against the river. Over the years, with you and Sam, I’ve learned that having values and morals is what makes us human. And I may not be human, but I like the aspect of finding what I value in life.” Cas smiled slightly at the idea.
“I think that is a perfect resolution,” Dean beamed, his eyes crinkling at the edges.
Before Cas knew it, his pile of warmth had moved and was walking towards the study. He poked his head over the couch to glare at Dean’s back.
“Where are you going?” He whined pitifully as the cold immediately sank into his skin. Dean turned and shot him a smirk as he wandered into the other room.
“Putting on more music,” He replied.
Cas huffed and tucked himself further into the couch to conserve warmth.
Soon, with the crackle of the needle, music flowed through the study into the living room.
“Elvis?” Cas questioned as Dean returned to the couch.
Climbing back on top of Cas, Dean grinned and made a sound of affirmation.
“I can dig Elvis,” Cas murmured as Dean tucked his face under his jaw and sighed content. Cas rumbled, satisfied.
In minutes, Dean was asleep on top of Cas. Soft snores shook his body, and little puffs of warm air hit Cas’ neck as Dean sighed.
The fire had died down to a faint pop and the vinyl was on the last song. The winter wind howled outside and the windows shuttered at the force of each gust. The ticking of the grandfather clock in the entryway echoed through the apartment. The round moon shone through the obsidian sky and lit up the thin layer of snow that blanketed the frozen ground. The lights on the Christmas tree shone proud on their pine branches. Cas listened to all the noises and marveled how much his life had changed in the past ten years.
How much he had changed.
He was no longer an angel- not mentally at least- but he was not a human either. To think that he still represented the winged creatures who would do anything that they were ordered to do made him shudder. To think what he did to obey and even impress them was something Cas liked to keep from his mind. But every so often, a little thread was tugged at a little too hard, and it all came back. The blood, the war, the ignorance and evil that was disguised as duty. He was a soldier, yes, but he put his orders over morality.
Not again, he thought.
Dean rustled in his arms and he glanced down to Dean’s wearily blinking eyes.
“Cas? Why are you still up?” his words were slurred with fatigue and a dopey grin grew on his face.
“Come to bed. Come sleep,” Dean muttered as he curled his hand around the hem of Cas’ shift. Cas pecked him on the forehead and the grin got bigger.
“You know you never told me your resolution,’ Cas prodded gently. Dean glanced away from him and pondered the question. “I wanna kiss in front of the Eiffel tower. Like they do in all those love movies. You know what that is, Cas? Pretty there…” Dean mumbled.
“Okay, Dean. Eiffel tower it is.” Cas responded gently, afraid to disrupt the sleepy murmurs of the room.
“Love you…” he trailed off as sleep took hold of his conscience.
“Love you too,” Cas rumbled.
“Happy new year, Cas,” Dean murmured into his neck.
Cas let his head rest against the top of the couch, closing his eyes. He heard Dean’s snored and chuckled to himself.
“Happy new year, Dean.”
Cas drifted off the sleep as the last few notes of ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love,’ echoed through the house.