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Days came and went like they were supposed to. Another day started and they sat down, the both of them, and had breakfast like clockwork. It was a hollow routine. Sam, Dean knew, just wanted to keep an eye on him and Dean was too tired to care. He would watch Dean eat toast as if he was certain that he wouldn’t otherwise. It was probably true but Dean also didn’t even have it in him to break down, well and truly. He got up everyday, let Sam watch him eat breakfast, took care of the dog, it was all very normal and well-adjusted. It was all just an act, however. Sam probably knew.
Nothing was the same anymore. The bunker was too quiet. It felt like the loneliest place on Earth, actually. Sure, when they originally moved in it had only been the two of them, their footsteps echoing in the sterile halls for what felt like forever. It hadn’t bothered him then; it was still a novelty, having something close to a home. Close enough for them at least. At the time he never could have guessed how much more of a home it would become.
Now he’d hear Sam’s footsteps echo, the only sound in the bunker aside from Miracle breathing in his sleep, and his heart would break with every step, each footfall as loud as a gunshot in the new quiet. He felt like the bunker was haunted again, remembering and admonishing himself for how used he’d gotten to the sounds of other people, of Mary training in the gym, of Jack watching Netflix in the war room, of Cas browsing the shelves in the library. He hadn’t recognized it at the time but, while all of them had had their faults, they’d all been as close to a perfect family as they could have ever hoped or imagined. He’d allowed himself to take it for granted, all of it, and having to live in those empty rooms was now his punishment.
And he’d resigned himself to taking it, that punishment, to waking up everyday and going through the motions. It was the least he could do after everything that had been given. Cas had— he had died so that Dean could live and while he’d never understand it, not any of it for as long as he lives or after, he couldn’t waste it either. So he got up, everyday, and made breakfast and tolerated Sam’s painfully concerned looks.
He was sitting there, shoveling eggs and bacon into his mouth and tasting nothing, Sam across from him like always now, when suddenly they were no longer alone.
Jack came out of nowhere, just appeared in the middle of the kitchen, hand raised in his little motionless wave. Dean had acclimated somewhat in the past to people appearing out of nowhere, Cas used to do it while Dean was driving all the time, but the angels hadn’t had wings in years. And Dean had thought Jack had left. For good this time. So he thought he really couldn’t be blamed for how embarrassingly high he jumped at the sudden appearance.
“Hello,” Jack said in his customary greeting.
“Hi, Jack,” Sam answered warily, after cutting a quick what the fuck look toward Dean. “Not that we aren’t happy to see you, but what are you doing here?”
“Yeah, aren’t you supposed to be in every drop of rain or blade of grass or whatever?” Dean added, feeling the very beginning of hysterics edging into his chest. He hadn’t felt anything in ages and just seeing Jack was jumpstarting something in his chest and it scared him.
“Oh, I was. But I’m done now and I wanted to come home. Can I still come back?” he asked, looking a little unsure of the answer.
Sam, somehow still with a head on his shoulders where Dean had none, stuttered out a quick, “Of course, Jack. But what do you mean by ‘done?’ Done being god?” He might have had the capacity to speak but even Sam couldn’t keep shock and incredulity out of his voice as he asked such an insane question.
“Yup,” Jack answered and almost seemed content to leave it there but he seemed to notice that they wanted more of an explanation than that. “I dismantled heaven and hell.”
“You what?” Dean was startled into asking.
“It was wrong to sort people based on whether or not they were ‘good’ or ‘bad,’” Jack replied, complete with air quotes. “Everyone’s just trying their best. They shouldn’t be punished for eternity for their mistakes. No one should be rewarded while others are suffering either. It’s wrong.”
Dean could hear the ghost of Cas’ voice as Jack spoke. He was so much like him and clearly what Cas had taught him had sunk in. Seeing Jack before him, sounding so much like his father and speaking his hard won lessons was suddenly almost unbearable. It was startling. It broke his heart all over again. Sam speaking was the only thing that saved him from breaking into tears right then and there, Dean missed him so much.
“So what happened to all the demons?”
“I released them.”
“‘Released them?’ What, like, into the universe?”
“Yup.”
Sam gave Dean another glance before asking, “And the angels?”
“There were so few left. I let them go.”
“You fired them?” Dean asked, now really close to hysterical. That was almost too much.
Jack seemed to consider that for a second. “I guess I did. I let them come to Earth and I took their powers away so they couldn’t hurt anyone. Some weren’t very happy,” he added with a grimace.
Sam huffed out a disbelieving breath. Dean shared a look with his younger brother, suddenly seeing a vision of Naomi working at a Gas-n-Sip, vest and all, and immediately cracked up.
And “cracked” was the correct word for it as Sam joined him laughing. They both doubled over like it was the funniest joke they had heard in years, decades even, while Jack watched confused but also amused, clearly wanting to be in on the joke.
“What happens when you die now?” Sam asked after they had calmed down, while Dean was still wiping tears from his eyes.
“You go back into the universe.”
“Like recycling?” Dean asked.
Jack nodded. “‘Every drop of rain and blade of grass,’” he repeated from earlier.
Dean nodded back, maybe only absorbing a little but liking the sound of that.
“What about monsters?” Dean asked, curious what other changes Jack had made.
Jack gave him a confused look, tilting his head in a way that was painfully familiar. “What about them?”
“Are they still around? Do they get recycled too when they die?”
“Monsters are creatures on Earth too,” he answered and Dean figured that said it all.
God’s creatures, he laughed to himself. The things that go bump in the night might sometimes need to be put down but he supposed Jack was right, they were as much inhabitants of Earth as they were.
There was a brief pause as Sam and Dean absorbed everything Jack told them, the mood in the kitchen lifted far from what it had been before Jack showed up.
“So what now, big guy?” Dean asked. “Retire early?”
“Well, there’s one thing left I need to do,” Jack answered, lifting his chin and squaring his shoulders. He leveled Dean with a look and he knew exactly what Jack was thinking. “And I need your help to do it.”
***
Turns out Jack had been able to bring Rowena back himself because she was only a demon, as the Queen of Hell she hadn’t been in the Empty. So when he came to her with his plan to shut the gates forever, he helped her come back as human as the day she was born. Having god for a sort-of nephew had its perks and Jack wasn’t above nepotism it seemed.
So bringing back Rowena was easy because she had only been in Hell. The Empty was a different problem. No one, not even Jack or Death, had dominion there besides the Shadow and it wasn’t exactly on speaking terms with any of them.
There was always a backdoor, however. They all knew this from experience and Jack knew it for certain now that he could peak behind the curtain. The only problem was getting it open. No easy task, sure, but they were all equally stubborn and they weren’t going to stop until they succeeded.
Suddenly the bunker was as full as it had ever been. Rowena and Jack were back and that was a large burden lifted off Dean’s shoulders. Eileen came back and was practically glued to Sam’s side in an attempt to keep him from turning into a book. Jody and Donna also came and brought all the girls with them. Claire and Jack had awkwardly circled around each other until Dean strongly suggested she invite him to join her on a quick hunt nearby while the others stayed behind to keep working. After that they were attached at the hip. Not long after that even Charlie and Bobby showed up. They might not have been their Charlie and Bobby but they could still help and it was sorely needed. Garth, Bess, and their gaggle of rugrats even came. It was an all hands on deck kind of situation.
Where earlier there had been only unbearably loud, crushing silence, there was suddenly always someone around the corner. Dean couldn’t walk two feet without running into someone, someone who loved him, someone who was helping. He remembered the early days, when it was just him and Sam against the world. Back then not even their own father could be counted on for help. Dean had told his dad after seeing him for the first time in decades that he did have a family and seeing everyone sitting around the library table, not wanting to stop researching even to eat their chinese takeout, he realized how true that was.
Days passed and they all worked. There were enough of them that they could rotate chores like keeping everyone fed and the occasional nearby hunt. While a few would make sure the bunker kept running, the rest would take up permanent residence in the library, reading ancient tomes and debating courses of action. The task set before them should have felt impossible, did feel impossible to Dean a few weeks ago, but there was an optimistic, resolute certainty in the air. They would succeed, they would pull off the impossible one last time.
Even Dean thought so. He was surprised to feel it again but he had faith that they would figure it out. They had the greatest witch to ever live back, former Queen of Hell, and if there was anyone who could help her crack this nut it was Sam. And if there was anything Dean had faith in, it was his baby brother.
With Sam and Rowena heading the research and planning, Dean was spending a lot of time with Claire and Jack, who were suddenly following him around like baby ducks, both of them gravitating towards him and each other, always underfoot. Dean knew from Jody that Claire had taken the news of Cas’ death particularly hard, that she had been a mess before Jack came back and they all started working together to fix it. Jack, of course, missed him more than breathing.
The three of them were too focused on what needed to be done to have any heart to hearts; they were propped up by the work, not each other, too wrapped up in the task at hand. But they would keep close, pulling strength just from the proximity to one another. When Jack would get discouraged reading, hefting a sigh with a weight beyond his years and the impatience of a child, Dean would catch his eye across the table. “We’ll get him back,” he would remind him with as much conviction as he could muster. “We’ll get him back,” Jack would echo, his tone as serious as a heart attack with Claire looking up from her reading in a flash of steel and divine purpose. If all else failed them, Dean was sure those two would figure something out of pure childish stubbornness alone.
Being with them, however, it almost hurt more, to be constantly reminded that Cas wasn’t just his to lose anymore, maybe hadn’t been for a long time. Sometimes looking at Jack or Claire was almost too painful in the different ways they would remind Dean of him. Seeing the hurt that would flash across their features when they remembered their loss could be almost unbearable. They were both so young, had lost so much. He wanted to make it right not just for himself, and selfishly he wanted Cas back more than anything, but also because he owed it not only to Cas, he owed it to them too.
So they worked. And they worked for weeks until they had a breakthrough. Rowena asked Jack to explain to her again what Nick had been doing when he had tried to bring back Lucifer. If Nick could bring someone back from the Empty, surely they could. It was difficult for Jack to talk about now that he had his soul back; he kept cutting quick and nervous glances at Dean whenever he spoke and fidgeting with his hands in his lap.
Dean for his part kept it cool. Mary’s loss was still fresh in all their minds and Dean would forever mourn the fact that their second chance had gotten cut short, he was sure Sam would too, but he couldn’t blame the kid for it. Not anymore. He still hurt and he couldn’t look at him as he spoke but he wasn’t going to get mad. He wasn’t. He had to do better by him, especially now that Cas was gone and he was all alone. He couldn’t repay Cas for everything by blowing up on his kid or by bringing him back only to have ruined his own relationship with Jack. He knew that if it ever came down between him or Jack, Cas would pick the kid every time so he had to make his peace with that and not screw everything up. Again.
“So, Jack,” Rowena asked carefully. She knew almost more than anyone exactly how sore this subject was. “What precisely was Nick trying to do?”
“He was trying to bring Lucifer back from the Empty somehow.” Obviously. Rowena gestured for him to go on. “He had a bowl that he bled into and he’d drawn a ring of salt around it.”
“Then he was trying to summon him. Hmm.” Rowena tapped her nails on the table, thinking. “And it worked?”
“Yes.”
“Could it be because he used to be his vessel?” Sam interjected. “Maybe Claire could summon Cas?”
They all looked at her.
“I dunno. Maybe,” she shrugged.
“Except, Lucifer had died normally, stabbed by yours truly. So Nick was summoning him, yeah, but without a vessel since that was going to be him. When the Empty took Cas it took him. All of him.”
They all paused, stumped again.
“So do you think he’s there?” Jack asked.
“What, like, in the Empty?” Dean responded.
Jack nodded back.
“That might be a good point, boy,” Rowena piped up. “Normally, when angels and demons die, they leave their vessels behind the same way a human soul leaves a body. No one physically goes to heaven or hell, time was.”
“No one physically goes to the Empty either,” Sam finished. “When the Empty took Cas, that wasn’t normal. It took his vessel with him.”
“So perhaps, if someone could open the door, someone could just reach in and…” Rowena finished with a gesture and a flourish.
There was a dramatic pause as they all stopped to consider whether or not this was even possible. Slowly, eyes started to look toward Jack. Jack himself then glanced at Kaia, who looked a little startled and then eventually shrugged, before he looked back at Rowena, a question in his expression.
“Perhaps,” she practically purred.
***
From then on, things were even more hectic than they had been now that there was a course of action. Sam and Rowena were working together to create a spell that could slightly modify Jack’s ability to open rips in reality and create doors to other worlds with help from Kaia which would allow him to open a door to the Empty, even just a crack. They also wanted to use some of Cas’ grace so they could locate him within the Empty, not really sure how space worked there, if at all. To get some, however, meant extracting it from Claire. Sam hadn’t been sure, having barely lived through the procedure himself, but Claire had insisted. “I want to do this for him,” she’d said with a fierce look that brokered no argument. In the end, she’d screamed and held Dean’s hand, who could barely bring himself to watch, gritting her teeth through the pain as Sam extracted just a bit of residual grace. Even a little was better than nothing.
So, grace in hand and spell prepared, it was finally time. The bunker was jittery as they decided to try the next day. Everyone ate together in the library, the only place with a table big enough for everybody and the unofficial, informal dining room in the bunker, and stayed for a drink after. They were trying for celebratory but the mood was mostly contemplative as everyone was either tired or thinking about tomorrow, too stuck in their own heads to really make any attempts at lively conversation in the way hunters could sometimes be. Slowly, everyone began to excuse themselves to try and get some sleep until it was just Sam, Dean, Jack and Claire. Eileen had gone to bed earlier, leaning down to place a kiss on Sam’s cheek as she left. Eventually, even Sam got tired, getting up with only a grunt and patting Dean on the shoulder as he passed. That was as emotional as the two of them were going to get that night.
Dean was still nursing a glass in silence when Jack spoke up from his seat across the room.
“Do you think we can save him?” he asked, his voice soft and quiet, suddenly looking and sounding like the child he was.
“We have to,” Claire answered. Her expression was as determined as it ever was but even her certainty belied her desperation. Dean recognized the expression from the mirror. “Sam once told me that in this job death isn’t always goodbye. It can’t— I’m not saying goodbye yet,” she finished firmly.
Dean had to clear his throat before speaking. “Me neither,” he croaked into the quiet. He looked up at Jack to watch him nod his assent. Dean could understand why he didn’t risk talking just then, looking dangerously close to the precipice of crying. Suddenly world weary and nauseous with nerves, Dean got up to try and sleep. More likely he’d spend the night laying in the dark but he found that he wasn’t able to keep it together like he had the past few weeks now that it was so close to being over. The uncertainty, the nearness to success, was newly unbearable under the all too real threat of failure. He wanted to stay and comfort Jack but he settled for sharing a pointed look with Claire and nodding at her. She nodded back, understanding and resolute. He mussed Jack’s hair as he left, hoping it passed as a half-comforting gesture at least.
As he walked back to his room he marveled at Claire’s strength. He knew it was ninety-five percent desperation, fear at having been abandoned yet again, but despite whatever breakdown that had preceded, she had arrived at the bunker with her jaw set and her chin lifted. Dean was suddenly overcome with gratitude that she and Jack could lean on each other even a little bit. He knew Jody and Alex would always be there to pick up the pieces of Claire whenever she shattered but he wasn’t sure if he was enough to pick up Jack if he fell apart. He was afraid of doing the wrong thing again and while he knew avoidance wouldn’t solve that problem, he was also still too scared to try.
That night he laid in the dark, anxiety coursing through every inch of his body. All he could do was lay there and think about his failings, repeating every harsh word and attempt at cutting ties. Cas had— he had cared about him and Dean had left Claire to comfort his son. He didn’t deserve it, had never deserved it from the moment Cas had pulled him from hell. Thinking about it was terrible but it was better than thinking about what he’d do if they failed. They’d have to try again, they’d just have to. Dean wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he wasn’t able to do this one thing. He had to save Cas even just once.
So he laid there all night, wracked with guilt until the morning.
***
The next day everyone prepared mostly in silence. The tables in the library were moved and ingredients were gathered. Sigils were drawn. Jack nervously clenched and unclenched his hands, hopping on the balls of his feet. Kaia, if she was nervous, projected confidence in Jack’s ability. Rowena was her chipper and dramatic self with an added air of gravity as she understood the importance of this particular spell. Claire stood with the girls, holding Jody’s hand and Donna’s arm wrapped around her shoulder. She’d been the most hopeful, the most fervent the past weeks but now she just looked small, pale, and nervous. Dean stood in the center of the room where the portal was supposed to open. Everyone had understood he’d be the one to reach into the Empty and grab Cas.
After all the preparation, the real thing felt almost anticlimactic. Rowena chanted something, her eyes glowing a powerful purple, and Jack had placed his hands at Kaia’s temples like he had before and suddenly there was a small tear in reality, black ooze menacingly dripping onto the floor. There was no time to hesitate, however, and Dean rushed to reach into the black goo. He reached until his entire arm was in the Empty, perhaps distantly aware that if the door were to close he’d lose the whole arm, and close to afraid that he wouldn’t find anything. Suddenly, he brushed something with the back of his hand. Investigating with his fingertips, he felt a button and then a wrist. He clamped down on that wrist and began to pull with everything he had. To no effect, however. Dean grit his teeth and prepared to somehow pull even harder when suddenly the hand near his grip twitched and grabbed back.
Then there wasn’t any resistance at all. He fell backwards as Cas tumbled forwards through the portal.
Everyone collectively took an abortive step forward before stopping as Cas began to cough up black ooze, not wanting to crowd him. Dean stayed kneeling at his side, rubbing his back as he coughed and shook. He heard Bobby quietly call his name and caught the towel he tossed him. After Cas was starting to breathe normally, Dean wiped his hands and hair and face. He was covered head to toe in the stuff but that was at least a start. No one said a word until he finished and Cas gave a quiet and confused, “Dean?”
Dean didn’t get to respond past a small smile, however, as a voice called out “Dad!” and they both turned their heads.
“Jack,” Cas gasped, a starry, astonished look in his eyes.
Jack ran over, shedding years as he went, until he was the three year old he was, wrapped up in his father’s arms and dirty trench coat. He then began to cry, sobs wracking his entire tiny body, Cas’ death and everything that had followed well and truly catching up with him. Cas stroked his hair and softly comforted him, holding him tight. Dean heard a hiccup behind him and turned to see Claire crying too. She stomped over but instead of kneeling down to hug him, she weakly hit Cas on the shoulder.
“Don’t ever do that to me again,” she threatened, her voice thick.
“I won’t,” he answered before looking at Dean. “I promise.”
Claire stalked away then, wiping her face with her hands, probably overwhelmed and embarrassed Dean was sure. Cas held Dean’s gaze. “Thank you,” he said, cradling the back of Jack’s head.
“Don’t thank just me,” Dean answered.
At that, the room had collectively exhaled and everyone started closing in, jostling shoulders and giving congratulations. Dean could practically fall onto the floor; he was so exhausted and relieved.
Their rescue party then quickly turned into an impromptu celebration. Sam dug out the happy birthday banner and Charlie had run to go buy an entire liquor store while Cas took a well deserved shower. Dean had sat a new de-aged (or correctly aged?) Jack on the kitchen countertop and wiped off any ooze that had gotten on him from his welcome back hug as well as any salt and snot on his face from crying. Eileen came back in with the pizza just as Cas made his second grand appearance of the day, pink from the shower and wrapped in the dead-guy robe.
They all stayed up late that night, eager to be together for a real celebration as opposed to a crisis or a funeral. There was almost manic energy in the air aside from the general aura of relief. Enough people in the room had come back from the dead so many times, Cas included, that any celebration should have felt perfunctory. Any win over death was always a massive win, however, and warranted celebrating no matter how old hat. It seemed none of them felt like taking anything for granted ever again.
Cas for his part seemed tired but genuinely happy, if not a little uncomfortable being the center of attention. Sometime in the night, Eileen had stuck a party hat on his head and insisted on calling him “the birthday boy.” He mostly sat at the kitchen table with Jack glued to his side, his small, earnest smile a permanent fixture, as he listened to everyone tell stories and quietly laughed at their jokes. Once Jack had fallen asleep, however, he temporarily excused himself to put him to bed. Dean got up to follow.
They walked in companionable silence, only half out of respect for the sleeping three year old in Cas’ arms. Dean watched from the doorway as Cas laid him in bed and tucked him in, brushing the hair off his forehead and giving him a kiss goodnight before standing.
“You’re really good with him,” he said after Cas had turned off the light and quietly shut the door.
“You are too,” he replied, smiling.
Dean scoffed but left it. “Okay, sure,” he agreed. He felt himself grow serious then. “Cas,” he started.
His gut turned to stone as he watched Cas’ expression shutter and become carefully impassive at his change in tone. He hated that he was afraid of whatever it was he thought Dean was going to say.
He didn’t say anything just then, however, just wrapped his arms around Cas’ shoulders and crashed into him, pushing his back into the wall and kissing him with everything he had.
“Fuck you. Fuck you for putting me through that,” he said, pulling only far enough away to speak into the space they were both breathing before tucking his face into Cas’ neck. He could feel himself beginning to shake apart, those horrible weeks that Cas had been dead and Jack had been gone returning to him. He was angry and tired and relieved all at once. He felt like he could barely stand anymore. And, fuck, he loved him. It overwhelmed everything else.
“Dean,” Cas said, his grip on Dean’s shirt easing to rest gently on his back.
Suddenly, that wasn’t enough. Suddenly, he was more afraid of everything slipping through his fingers again more than he was scared of saying something.
“You have to know, what you said, you have to know that I— That I... Me too,” he knew he had to barely be making sense. “You have to know that, right?”
“Dean,” Cas said again, like that said everything, an acknowledgement, forgiveness, and thanks all at once. And maybe it did say all those things or maybe he just wanted to spare Dean from the fact that answer had been no. They both knew that. All Dean could do was kiss him again and hope that the message got across.
They stayed like that for what could have been minutes or hours, it didn’t matter. Now that Dean had solid proof that Cas was back under his hands he was reluctant to let go again.
Eventually he did get himself together enough to pull back. “Jesus christ,” he said, scrubbing his face with a shaking hand when he realized he’d been crying. “Let’s get the man of the hour back to his birthday bash.”
“I’m sure the party hasn’t missed me,” Cas replied, a sappy look on his face Dean now recognized was lovestruck.
Dean could only roll his eyes at that. “C’mon,” he said, reaching down to grab Cas’ hand and tug him forward. He felt kind of stupid doing it but he also felt like he had to. There was a powerful and urgent need nestled somewhere deep in his chest that he couldn’t ignore anymore, as simple as that. He didn’t want to risk not getting third, fourth, or fifth chances. He wouldn’t squander this one.
So they navigated the hallways together again. Quiet as before but holding hands like awkward teenagers, too hyper aware of where their hands were connected for it to feel normal. Dean was sure his palms were sweaty; he was so distantly nervous he felt like maybe he was having an out of body experience. He was also sure that there was nothing that could make him let go this time.
That is until they rounded a corner and a familiar voice called out a dulcet, “Hello boys.”
Cas let go of his hand as quick as anything, instead holding it protectively in front of Dean. “Billie,” he acknowledged, tone cold and hard.
“How are you even here?” Dean asked, pushing Cas’ hand away to stand next to him instead of behind.
“I can thank you all for that. You’ll remember, the Empty took me too, same way it took your boy toy there. I don’t need a vessel the same way angels do. When the door was opened, I just… slipped right out,” she answered, calm and glib.
“And now you want revenge,” Cas stated for her.
“No such thing. I didn’t want to crash your little party but I also wanted to thank you. It wasn’t exactly how I had planned it,” she said with some disdain. “But you took Chuck off the board and now no one is god.”
“What do you mean ‘no one is god?’ Jack—” Dean started.
“Jack let that power go the second he realized his father was safe. It’s no longer for the taking. It’s all out there now,” she interrupted, glancing around to punctuate her point.
Dean and Cas shared a look at her revelation. They’d had no idea.
“So I’m willing to let this all be water under the bridge, considering I’ll get you all eventually. Everything dies boys, even you, and I am very patient,” she emphasized. “So congratulations, Castiel. In the meantime, it seems you got everything you ever wanted. I’ll be seeing you when the time comes, though perhaps sooner than I would have before. See you later, the both of you.”
With that she was gone. They stood in shocked silence for a second, not moving.
“What did she mean ‘sooner than before?’” Dean turned to ask, suddenly angry and afraid again.
“It means I’m human now, Dean. I had to let go of my grace to escape the Empty,” Cas explained. “I hadn’t gotten the chance to tell you before. Everything happened so fast.”
Huh. Human. Dean guessed that explained why pulling Cas from the Empty went from nearly impossible to Cas being practically spat out. He didn’t belong there anymore. Dean couldn’t pretend the news didn’t make him feel light and giddy all over again. He had always secretly wished Cas would stay a little closer down to Earth. Now there was nowhere else for him to go, dismantling of heaven aside. Dean had spent years subconsciously trying to make Cas more human, trying to get him to enjoy food and movies and music, as if he could bribe him into staying. Suddenly, he had what he only distantly realized he’d wanted the entire time. He couldn’t help smiling.
“Well, I think coming back from the dead and becoming human means you deserve a beer,” he said, reaching back down to take his hand again. “Let’s get you back to the party for real this time.”
Cas, for his part, simply smiled back and allowed himself to be led down the hallway back to where everyone who loved them was waiting.