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The first time they meet, neither of them are the same.
Dean is covered in blood, so much he can’t tell if its his or his victims, and his face is alight with a dark energy that feels good at the time, but later terrifies him.
Castiel is indescribable. Light, energy, two great, inky black wings, shining rainbow like an oil spill. If Dean wasn’t already dead, he would have burned up just at the sight.
The light itself seems to push the demons away, and Dean falls to his knees, weapons dropping from his hands. The creature approaches, tendrils of energy slicing through the attacking creatures, and he’s nearly blinded— but he feels something wrap around him. Eyes shut tight, he’s lifted up and away, and his skin is burning from the pure celestial energy.
The pit is strong. The being tugging at him is strong, but the pit has a hold of him, and he feels himself start to slip.
What can only be an arm holds him closer, and what feels strangely like a human hand grips his shoulder.
It burns. It sears like a brand, but the gravity of Hell begins to fade, and everything becomes a bit more solid.
It’s still too bright to open his eyes, but he feels. Soft feathers beating near him, warm light surrounding him, that hand still on his shoulder. He’s being held closer than he has in a long time.
When Dean wakes up, he doesn’t remember this. Not the light, the wings, the hand. Only a sense of comfort, of safety, as he stares at the handprint seared into his skin.
Like a brand.
The last time they part, Dean knows he can’t let it end like this.
For the first time, he wants to live. He wants to grow old and rest and become the person his best friend- his angel- his Cas sees him as.
So Sam and Jack know they can’t change his mind when he announces he’s going into the Empty.
Dean has gone through Hell, Heaven, and Purgatory. But the Empty is something else.
He didn’t know absolute void could feel so suffocating.
He feels Sam’s fear— a side effect of the spell giving him a way out. Just send the signal and Sam will pull them out.
He tries to think happy thoughts, send a message to his brother. I’ll come back. I’ll come back with him.
In a literal void, he can’t really tell where he should go. The Empty is practically infinite. It could take him years to find his angel.
But there’s something. A tug in his chest, from what he can only guess is his soul. It’s subtle enough that if he thinks too hard it disappears, so he doesn’t.
He follows his instincts, turning blindly in what could be circles, and he prays.
Castiel, it’s me.
Castiel, I’m coming for you, just hold on.
Castiel, I’m getting you out of here.
Cas.
Cas, please send me a sign.
Cas, why did you do it?
Cas, why me?
Cas, I’m sorry.
Cas, I’m sorry I couldn’t say anything. I’m sorry I’m too wrapped up in my own issues to confront my feelings. I’m sorry I froze. I’m sorry I’ve been so terrible to you, I’m sorry I get so angry, I’m sorry you-
Cas, you deserve better.
Cas, I lo-
There.
A beige trench coat.
His heart is pounding. Cas is collapsed on the dark only semi-existent floor, and from this distance, he can’t tell if he’s breathing.
So he runs.
Faster than he ever has.
“Cas!”
He stirs, and Dean feels his body become lighter. He kneels beside his angel, gripping his face. “Hey, hey, wake up. I’m here. I’m here, Cas. It’s me.”
Eyes flutter. “…Dean?”
Dean can barely hold back his tears. “Yeah, it’s me. Come on, we gotta go-“
The floor loses solidity. Cas’ eyes fly open completely, staring at him through the dark in terror, and Dean sits frozen as the black goo of the Entity begins to swallow his angel again.
“Dean, run,” he urges, but he’s run enough. He’s left him enough.
“No,” he hisses. “Never again.”
As the inky blackness spreads, Dean takes a deep breath and dives in.
Come on.
Hand searching through the goo.
Come on.
The handprint on his shoulder burning.
Come on.
The buzz of his soul screaming now, like a magnet, dragging him towards his angel.
Their hands connect, and Dean pulls.
He feels the hand on his shoulder again, but this time he is the one that holds Cas close, clutching him like letting go might mean losing him forever.
Now, Sam, he thinks, and there’s a tug.
They wake up on the floor of the bunker, still covered in goo and pressed together. Dean is vaguely aware of voices, Sam and Jack rushing around with towels and wards to keep the Empty away, but he can’t bring himself to let go.
“Dean.”
Dean doesn’t know how to describe how much he missed that voice.
“Dean, I’m alright. You did it. You can let go of me now.”
Maybe it’s relief, maybe it’s exhaustion, maybe it’s the affection in Cas’ voice that everyone else has been able to hear for years, but Dean holds him closer.
“Don’t want to.”
Still, being covered in Entity goo isn’t a pleasant experience, so Dean allows them to sit up and towel off, still keeping one hand on Cas. Sam and Jack get their turns with hugs, but then Sam sends a pointed look at the boy, and they leave.
“I think you two need to talk,” Sam whispers as he closes the door.
It’s silent.
Dean had been so focused on saving him, on bringing him back, he hadn’t really thought about this part. The talking part. He’s not good at that part.
“Dean, about what I said,” Cas starts, and Dean’s heart jolts. Has Cas finally realized he’s not worth it?
“I meant what I said, every word. I love you. And not in the platonic or familial way I love Sam and Jack. But first and foremost, you are my friend, and I don’t want to make you-“
“I’m in love with you,” Dean blurts out without thinking. Maybe the Empty did something to his head, because he can’t seem to stop the flood of words now. “I’m in love with you, and I think I have been for a long time, but you know me, you know I’m really bad at the whole feelings thing, and I’ve always thought I was straight but I think I’m really not, and I think I’ve loved you since all the way back in the apocalypse, but I only really realized when I was praying to you in purgatory, and you deserve better Cas but I still-“
Cas kisses him, and they’re both still not completely clean, but it’s the best kiss he’s ever had.
“Dean Winchester,” Cas says, gripping his face in his hands. “I had a whole speech about how you’re worthy and you don’t see the good in yourself. I died telling you that. And you still don’t believe me?”
Dean lets himself cry then, a mixture of suppressed grief and joy and love. “Guess I’m just stubborn like that.”
Later, they’ll go into the kitchen and get another hug from Jack.
Later, they’ll interlock their hands and Jack will cheer and Sam will clap them on the back with a quiet finally.
Later, Dean will sit his brother down and sputter about Dad and traditional values and how feelings are confusing as shit before finally spitting out the words I’m bi, and Sam will smile and tell him he’s known for a long time.
Much later, Dean and Cas will put rings on each other’s fingers and kiss at a wedding with the small group they consider family, and Cas will finally feel like a true Winchester.
But for now, they just sit.
The man afraid of flying and the angel afraid of falling.
Dean and Cas.
Hands interlocked, marks seared on their hearts.
Like a brand.