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John was still trying to get his bearings, trying to catch up and figure out what was going on and who was who in the insane lives his sons had continued to lead after his death. Currently he was sitting quietly on Bobby’s couch, across the room from a man who everyone, his sons included, claimed was an actual, biblical angel. Castiel.
John had seen enough to know that it was most likely true, but what he just couldn’t figure out was why this angel was on their side when the rest (and that was an even more bizarre thought) were not. Or at least, why this particular angel was the exception to the rule Dean had already told him.
“Angels are dicks,” Dean threw out casually. “Except Cas,” he amended, feeling the glowering from the trench coated man behind him, “Cas is cool, and weirdly enough so is Crowley.”
“Well, that might be a little bit much,” Sam disagreed.
“Hey, I am cool!” came an English accented voice from their other side, startling all except Castiel. “You’re just sore that you got duped by your little girlfriend.”
Sam flipped Crowley the middle finger while Dean laughed, and Sam slapped his brother’s head in retaliation.
“Okay, and what are you?” John asked the new man in the black suit.
“Crowley, formerly King of the Crossroads, now King of Hell,” his eyes flashed red and John’s hand instinctively twitched.
“Crowley is an ally,” Castiel offered.
“Exactly!” came the cheery response. “You lot don’t piss me off, I keep all the other black-eyed bastards off your arses. Also happy to trade favors, of any nature.”
“And he does mean any,” Bobby supplied.
John shook his head slightly at the memory, which caught the attention of Castiel, who was watching him expectantly.
“How does an angel end up here when none of the rest want anything to do with, well, anything?”
“I guess you could say I chose my own path,” Castiel answered carefully. “The more I saw, the less I agreed with my superiors. There were some disagreements and a lot of effort to bring me back into the fold, but after several years and a couple inexplicable resurrections, I am left well enough alone.”
“Inexplicable resurrections,” John repeated carefully, “what does that mean?”
“I pissed off Lucifer by attacking Michael. Though they have been enemies since the beginning of time, they are still brothers and as loyal to one another as your own sons are. Lucifer obliterated me with a snap of his fingers. I reappeared, whole and intact, less than an hour later. I have never met, nor even seen, our Father, but it stands to reason that he is the only one who could have brought me back, after being wiped out by an archangel.”
“And now you’re just here… doing research, cleaning guns, making coffee. You’re an overqualified secretary.”
“You make it sound very simple, when it is not. I am billions of years old. I remember the Tower of Babel. I remember Cain and Abel; I remember David and Goliath, Sodom and Gamorah. I led my garrison for millennia, through countless fights and to endless battles. The last time I led my garrison was straight into Hell itself. My job, my job, was to “take hold the soul of the Righteous Man in Hell and raise him from perdition”, and I did it. Then I was ordered to do things that man questioned, and so I questioned them. I questioned my orders, I rebelled against all of Heaven, I turned my back on my brothers and sisters and I fell. My wings bear the scars of that fall.”
It took John a few seconds to remember to breathe. He could tell the man - the angel - wasn’t even angry, and the power that emanated from him when he spoke with such force was terrifying. He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry,” John offered gruffly. “I guess I didn’t think it all the way through. When I made my deal with Azazel, things were a lot simpler than this. The bible was fiction, god was a myth and angels were a fairy tale.”
“I apologize for unsettling you, it was not my intention. You only wish to protect your sons, I understand that.”
John waved a hand, fascination and curiosity overriding the lingering chill. “So you threw away everything for one man?”
There was a hint of a smirk at the corner of Castiel’s mouth now. “Yes, I suppose I did, but I do not regret that choice for a moment.”
John studied him carefully, from the reminiscent look in his eyes to the soft, fond quality of his voice as he spoke of this mysterious person. “I think you fell for this Righteous Man in more ways than one.”
A thoughtful expression passed the angel’s face now.
“Angels were never supposed to feel human emotions, we were not designed that way. Our purpose was to love our Father and obey orders, nothing more. But with enough exposure, some of us… succumb, you would say. I’ve long come to realize that I was feeling human emotions, and that never bothered me. But there’s something very powerful, very all consuming about falling in love that was never explained to me. I still don’t understand it completely, but as time has gone on I slowly began to realize that, yes.
“I was in denial, for quite some time. But one day I was asked if I had a choice, between returning to my place in Heaven or spending a single mortal lifetime by his side. My very first thought was that eternity in Heaven would not be bearable without his company. The moment that thought occurred to me, I knew I had fallen in love.”
John couldn’t help but smile. He could see why Bobby and his sons were so fond of this angel, why they simultaneously looked to him for protection and stood in front of him as defense. “Well that just begs the question, where is he and does he feel the same way?”
“I do not know,” he replied. Smiling softly, he continued, “It does not matter to me whether or not my feelings are reciprocated. I have not been raised to desire a romantic companion the way humans are, it is not something I have been designed to crave.”
“What if he did?” John wondered aloud. Castiel was endlessly fascinating, a combination of childish naivety and wisdom only old age can bring.
“Yeah, Cas?” Dean piped up from the doorway, startling both men. “What if he did?”
John turned toward Dean, curious about the odd tone in his voice, only to realize that he may as well have not been in the room at all, so focused were his son and Cas on each other. John held as still as he could, trying his best to be unobtrusive so as to not remind them he was still in the room.
“Dean, I…” Castiel began, awkward and shifting his weight slightly. In one fluid move, the angel stood and turned toward the door. “Perhaps I should be leaving-”
“No, Cas, you shouldn’t. Stay.”
Dean stepped forward to block the other’s path out of the room. He drew level with John, whose eyes conveniently fixed on the distinct handprint shaped scar adorning his son’s shoulder. He hadn’t asked how Dean had acquired such a strange, specific marking, but now it began to make sense.
Almost as if he could read John’s mind, the angel placed his hand over the scar. Every finger lined up perfectly. As curious as he was, John knew it was time for him to exit the room and leave his son and the angel alone. Dean’s eyes fell to him as soon as he began to move, and in a flash his body language changed, shutting both men out. It put a twinge of shame deep in John’s heart to see Dean react this way, because he knew it was his own fault.
“Son,” he began quietly, “I know I said a lot of things when you and Sam were kids. I know I said a lot of nasty things about men who love other men. I can’t take them back, but the world has been moving on for a long time now. I can move on too. So if you love him, or any other man, I’ll be okay with it.”
Dean stared at him in shock, clearly beyond words. None of this was something John would ever have voiced before, but a lot had changed. “You mean that?” There was still caution in his voice, but perhaps a bit of hope underneath it.
“Dean, we’ve both been to Hell and back, literally. So yes, Dean. If you’re… if you’re gay, I am okay with that.”
“Well, I like women way too much to ever be gay,” Dean reasoned with a grin, “but… thank you.”
“I’ll go crash with Sam,” John offered, “if you guys want to take my room instead.”
With that, John padded softly up the stairs to the bigger room, closing the door softly behind him. Sam was in the bed against the wall, long limbs sprawled out and off the small bed. He sunk down on the other mattress and smiled to himself.
It wasn’t easy for him, raised in the south back when he was, but when a man saw the things they did, there was a level of perspective a person needed.
“Dad?” Sam’s quiet, sleepy voice came from the other side of the room as John laid back.
“Yeah, son?”
“Where’s Dean? I thought you were taking the other room.”
John couldn’t help but grin to himself, knowing how Sam would react to his answer. “I told him I’d trade, so he and Cas can have the other room.”
“You - what?” Sam propped himself up now, staring at John and sounding far less groggy than he had a moment ago. “You always used to say that-”
“That… that they deserved to burn in hell,” John finished. “But now that I have spent years doing just that, it isn’t fitting. There’s so much out there, Sam… So what if you or Dean are gay? Fuck, who cares if you and Dean were gay for each other?” Sam coughed hard, almost choking. “You need to find happiness wherever you can. If that happiness is with a man, then I’m all for it.”
“Wow, dad,” Sam breathed, recovering. “Just - wow.”
After a few minutes of silence, John spoke quietly to his younger son once more. “Usually I’m not this slow, but let me make sure I’ve got this right.”
“Okay?”
“An angel, an actual, biblical angel made the choice to rebel against all of Heaven, for Dean?”
“Yeah, for the most part. I mean, the whole apocalypse thing played a big part in the beginning, but yeah. Cas could have gone back after that was averted, but he came back for Dean. He stayed for Dean, and I really don’t think he wants to go back."
“So does this mean I’m eventually going to have an angel for a son-in-law?” John wondered aloud.
Sam laughed harder than he should have. “I hope so. I really, really hope so.”