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When Jack first came to Castiel in the Empty, he thought that it was another trick. The entity had already borrowed his own face- Jimmy Novak’s face, rather. It had come to him as Meg, called him Clarence and made him long for his thorny rose of a friend. It had come as Gabriel, as Balthazar, as Zachariah, as Naomi- the many Angels who had loved him or hated him but who he had surely failed, one and all. And it had come to him as Dean.
The Empty was a master at causing Castiel pain. It knew all the wrong things to say. Of course, it would imitate Jack. And yet-
And yet this Jack seemed different. Wrong somehow, in that he felt right. All the others were off in some slight way. The inflections in Dean’s voice. The angle of Balthazar’s smile. The sparkle in Meg’s eyes. Jack was exactly how he remembered him. He also wasn’t insulting Castiel, telling him all the ways he failed as a father and protector. If the Empty wanted to use Jack as a weapon, Castiel knew it had a treasure trove of information it could work with to make him hate himself. Instead Jack was saying- well honestly, Castiel couldn’t quite make sense of all of it.
“-a deal with it. The Empty just wants to be left alone, Castiel, and I promised it that I would do that. I’d make sure it had peace and quiet forever, as long as it let you go. But it still wants to punish you and it says that by your bargain, you forfeited your Grace to it. You can come with me, but you have to leave your Grace behind. I know you don’t want to be human, Castiel, and I’m sorry I couldn’t get it to make a better deal, but please come back. Please, we need you. I need you.”
Jack was crying now, and in that moment it didn’t matter if this was a trick of the Empty or not. If it was, Castiel would deal with the consequences. But if it wasn’t, then Jack was crying and asking Castiel for help. Of course he couldn’t refuse.
“I’ll come, Jack.”
Suddenly, Castiel was no longer in the Empty. It was bright. His eyes hurt. Oh, and he was aware of his limbs in a way that was simultaneously too much and not enough. He knew this feeling. He was human. And he was- he looked around- home. In the kitchen in the Bunker. He was human and he was home.
The one thing I can’t have… Don’t do this, Cas… I love you.
No. No, this wasn’t his home anymore. He had certainly seen to that in what he thought were his final moments alive. But he was back and Jack was beside him, talking a mile a minute and-
“Whoa, Jack slow down! Give him a minute to catch up.” It was Sam, standing before him and looking more relieved than Castiel had seen in years. He looked like just a man in his kitchen, a man greeting an old friend. “Cas, it’s so good to have you back.”
“Thank you, Sam.” His voice was hoarse. Being human would be an adjustment, yet again. It was alright, though. Not nearly as devastating as he thought it would be the first time he fell. Certainly not if he could be here with Jack, with his found family, with-
“Hey, Cas.”
Dean stood on the opposite side of the kitchen, a table between them. Castiel wondered if this was a deliberate move to keep him from getting too close. Or maybe not. Maybe Castiel was being paranoid and Dean wasn’t angry at him for the things he had said in the dungeon.
But that wasn’t important now. There were more pressing matters than Castiel’s newly-human heart. He hoped his voice only sounded hoarse from the strain of being dragged from the Empty, not shaking. “Hello, Dean. Are you alright? What’s happening with Chuck?”
Thus began a few very confusing hours of sitting in the library and getting caught up on the past several weeks. Chuck was defeated and everyone was safely back and Jack was…God? Castiel hadn’t wanted that for him. He had wanted Jack to live a life as happy and normal as possible.
“I know, Castiel, and I want that too. But I have to do this first. I’m just fixing the things that Chuck broke. Like putting all the people back and making Heaven not terrible for the souls who go there. When I’m done with all of that, I think I found a way to disperse the power. Aunt Amara is helping me. It’s just all going to be absorbed into the natural magic that exists in all things anyway.” Sam assured him that he was also helping Jack with this, that Amara wasn’t trying to seize cosmic power, and that somehow things might actually turn out alright.
Dean had wandered out of the room at some point and Castiel had tried not to panic, tried not to think that Dean was so disgusted by their last interaction that he couldn’t even bear to be in the same room as him. But then Dean came back with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for him and a peanut butter and banana sandwich for Jack- crusts off and cut into triangles just like he liked it- and Jack had smiled warmly at him and Dean had ruffled his hair and then Dean said that he wanted to make sure newly-human Cas wasn’t hungry while waiting for dinner, but the meatloaf would be ready soon.
Dinner was strangely normal, with Jack catching Cas up on the more entertaining and less urgent aspects of what he had missed. Dean still wasn’t really talking to him, but he’d sent him a few sad little smiles that at least made Castiel feel confident that he wasn’t going to get cursed at.
After dinner, they played board games on a table where they used to plan how to save the world. At 9:30, Sam reminded Jack that it was time for bed and Jack obediently stood to go brush his teeth and head off to sleep. He hugged both of the brothers, then gave Castiel an extra strong hug while whispering “I’m so glad you’re back.”
Then Castiel was alone with the Winchester brothers and he felt immediately sure that he didn’t belong here at all. The hunters were being kind to him, of course. They loved Jack and Jack loved him. He would remain a part of their lives forever. But he wasn’t an Angel anymore, he wasn’t their protector, and Dean certainly wouldn’t want him just lazing about the bunker for the rest of his now-human life. He didn’t belong here. He was quite sure he never truly had.
“I think I should probably say goodnight.”
“Yeah, you’ve had an intense day,” Sam agreed. He stood and embraced Castiel, his strong arms solid and real and not another trick of the Empty meant to drive him even further to despair. “It’s so good to have you back, Cas.”
“Thank you, Sam.” Castiel steeled himself for what he had to ask next. It shouldn’t be a problem, he doubted the brothers would mind, but he hated asking them for any more favors. “Is it alright if I take the car I was using?”
“Of course you can use your car,” Dean answered immediately. “I kept it up for you while you were gone. Finally did a detailed cleaning on it. Drove around a little every few weeks. And I just changed the oil last week. It’s all ready for you.”
Castiel smiled at that. Dean was always so good at making sure everyone’s needs were met. And the fact that he’d taken care of Castiel’s car, like a part of him had been hoping Castiel would find his way back…
“Thank you, Dean.” And then, because he didn’t know what else to say, because he’d already said everything and been gone and now was here again, he simply said “Goodnight” and walked out of the library.
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Sam and Dean stared as Castiel walked out the wrong door of the library. They listened in silence as his footsteps faded down the hall, away from the bedrooms, and as they heard the door to the garage creak open. At the sound of its close, they turned and looked at each other. Sam looked stunned. Dean hoped his expression was just general disappointment or frustration, not the absolute soul crushing grief that was currently coursing through him.
Castiel came back. He came back and he was free and he had dinner with them and then he immediately left. Again.
“Did he just go to the garage?” Sam asked. Of course he had and Sam knew it. Dean knew Sam was really asking why did he just go to the garage?- and Dean wasn’t prepared to answer that.
Besides, Cas would probably have driven all the way out of Kansas by the time Dean finished explaining.
Instead, he simply said “I’ll get him. We need to talk anyway. Wasn’t really thinking it would be tonight, but I’ve got him.”
If Dean lost him again, he’d never forgive himself. Hell, regardless of how tonight ended, Dean didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself for what had happened in the dungeon. He jogged through the bunker, hoping that the minute he spent talking to Sam hadn’t been too long, that Castiel hadn’t already left.
He hadn’t, but it was a close call. Castiel was halfway through sliding into the driver’s seat when Dean saw him. Ignoring the part of his mind that imagined black goo waiting for Cas inside the car, pulling him in and swallowing him whole, Dean called out. “Cas!” He told himself that his voice hadn’t cracked with fear, and that even if it had, Castiel hadn’t noticed.
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Castiel stopped at the sound of Dean’s voice. Dean’s vaguely panicked and extremely upset voice. He stepped out from the car’s doorway and braced himself. What new nightmare had unfolded for them in the few hours he’d been back?
But when Dean finally reached him, he didn’t launch into an explanation of something that was wrong. He just stood there. Like he’d stood there in the dungeon when- no. No, Castiel couldn’t let his mind go there. He had to just focus on this moment in front of him. This moment in which Dean still hadn’t said anything.
“What do you need, Dean?”
What could Dean need that Castiel could still provide? He was human now. He couldn’t heal the brothers. Couldn’t fly off to find rare ingredients for spells. He was no help to them at all now, and he wondered for a moment why he’d come back at all, but then he remembered that Jack had asked him to and of course he would do anything for Jack.
“Where are you going?”
“I'm going to find a place to park for the night and go to sleep,” Castiel replied flatly. He didn’t add that he was happy he at least had a car this time- that the last time he was newly human and homeless he hadn’t been as fortunate.
“Why?” Dean asked. The confusion and sorrow in his eyes made Castiel’s heart twist painfully. He’d been back on Earth only a few hours and already he was making Dean sad.
“Because it’s late and I don’t have any money.”
Dean smiled slightly at that, the hidden little smile he always had when Castiel explained that he didn’t understand a reference. His face grew serious again as he said, “No I mean, why are you leaving? You’ve got a room all ready for you. I watered that weird little plant you have and it looks like it’s doing okay.”
Castiel sighed. He was tired. His body was still adjusting and he just wanted to sleep. Maybe there was a more diplomatic way to say this, but he couldn’t find it right now. “I’m human, Dean. I can’t be of any help to you and Sam anymore. And hopefully you won’t need help like that anyway, now that Chuck is gone. I know Jack wanted me to come back to Earth, and I know I can help him on this new path he’s on, even like this. But I’m going to need time to relearn things. I’m probably going to be uncomfortable and frustrated. I have no desire to burden you and Sam with having to manage a once-again-fallen Angel.”
“I’d love to be burdened with that,” Dean said plainly. Castiel briefly considered just getting into his car and driving away, but Dean’s face was so earnest that he froze. “Where do I sign up?”
When Castiel didn’t respond, Dean continued. “I want to be burdened with my best friend living down the hall from me. I want to be burdened with watching movies with him, drinking beer, finding out what he likes best on his pizza. Let me have the burden of cooking for you, Cas, showing you things you haven’t tasted yet. Because there’s a whole world out there besides PB&J. I want the burden of waking up in the night and knowing you’re right there. Knowing I can get up and look at you and you won’t be swallowed up in black goo in a shadow dimension. Please, Cas. Burden me with staying in your room.”
It was so painfully obvious that Dean meant it. He was standing there nervously waiting for Castiel’s answer as though he’d just asked him to prom. Did he really think that Castiel would say no? That he wouldn’t jump at the chance to be near Dean if he could, to try to salvage something of the friendship that Castiel had deliberately blown apart just before dying right in front of Dean’s face?
He heard the Empty’s voice again, its not-quite-right imitation of Dean’s tone. He won’t even be able to look at you. He still hates you for all the things you’ve done and now he’ll hate you for who you are. You died happy, Castiel, but you’re going back to a life where there isn’t a single chance of happiness.
But Dean was telling him to come back inside. Dean had watered his plant. Dean had changed his oil even though he had no reason to think that Castiel would ever be there to drive that car again. Dean was standing before him, waiting for an answer, and-
And suddenly Castiel was sobbing. Deep, ugly sobs that ripped through his lungs that now required oxygen. The thought made his breathing hitch for a moment and he cried even harder. He felt his knees buckle, but he never hit the floor because Dean was right there, catching him, kneeling beside him, bundling him into his arms and running his hand through Castiel’s hair. Dean was speaking, saying absurd things that Dean would never say, and Castiel wondered if he’d forgotten to breathe and he’d passed out.
“It’s okay, Cas. It’s okay, I’m here, I’ve got you. You’re home, Cas. You’re home. You’re home and you’re safe and Jack is right inside and he’s safe too and everything is okay, I swear. We’re gonna go inside and you can say hey to that weird plant and then you’re gonna go to sleep. And when you get up, I’ll make breakfast and then we can go get you some new clothes- your clothes, not Jimmy’s- and we’ll take the long way home and I’ll even let you pick the music. But you can’t tell Sammy, okay? Just breathe, Cas, it’s okay. Everything’s fine, sweetheart, I promise.”
Exhaustion and confusion slowly began to creep into the space where panic had been minutes before. Castiel felt his breathing even out and his body relax, sinking even deeper into Dean, who just held him tighter. When Dean finally broke the silence that had fallen between them, his voice was soft and gentle. “Think you’re good to try to stand? We can get you into your room and off the garage floor.”
His room. Castiel’s room. In his home, the bunker. With his family, with Dean and Sam, and with his son Jack who had taken on unimaginable responsibilities far too young but who was still good and kind and yes, his son.
Castiel nodded.
He kept himself tucked tightly against Dean, who was holding onto Castiel as tightly as though he was afraid the Empty was going to come snatch him up again. Maybe he was. Although Castiel knew he could never have Dean in the way that he wished, he knew the hunter cared for him. Knew that his loss would hurt Dean.
So he clung to Dean as Dean clung to him, trying to silently assure him that he wouldn’t leave again unless Dean wanted him to go. He didn’t see Sam as they passed by him. Didn’t see the smile spread across Sam’s face, or the way he mouthed Finally at his big brother. He did feel the way Dean momentarily stiffened, though he had no idea that Dean was frantically searching his brother’s face for disgust or judgment or any of the things he knew he would have seen in the face of John Winchester. He also felt the way Dean sagged in relief when he saw none of that. He felt the way Dean somehow managed to tuck him even closer into his arms. He did not see Dean’s silent reply of Shut up, bitch. Dean barely saw Sam’s returning Jerk through the hand that Sam had brought to his mouth to stifle laughter.
They reached his room, which was exactly as Castiel had left it. His weird little plant on his desk was, indeed, thriving. The sheets were fresh and slightly turned down, the pillows plump. Castiel knew immediately that Dean had done this, but couldn’t think of when he’d had time since Castiel’s return just a few hours earlier.
“Got everything ready this morning,” Dean supplied, as though reading Castiel’s thoughts. “I knew it was a long shot that this would even work, getting you back and all. But I wanted everything to be ready for you, just in case.”
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Castiel was silent as Dean pulled back the sheets, sat him down, and helped him take off his shoes. He tried not to be too concerned about how pliant the rebellious Angel was being; he’d been through a lot today, and had been told even more with their condensed update of the past several weeks. And of course, there was the shock of being made human again.
Dean wasn’t even all that surprised that Castiel had tried to leave, which made him hate himself even more. It was he who had taught Cas again and again that although they called him family, the Winchesters wouldn’t always be there for Cas when he needed them. It was he who had taught Cas that he couldn’t have- no, not tonight. He wasn’t going to go there tonight.
He got Cas settled. He left the little reading lamp on at its lowest setting, thinking that darkness might send Cas back into thinking he was in that terrible place. But when there was nothing more to be done and it was time to leave Castiel to his rest, he found that he couldn’t bring himself to leave the room. Castiel’s tearful, brilliantly happy face floated in his mind as it had almost constantly in the past few weeks and he told himself that maybe staying right where he was was the best choice for both of them.
“You mind if I stay a little?” Dean asked, sitting down at the chair at Castiel’s desk. “You go ahead and sleep, I just-”
Why had he thought this would go over well? He sounded pathetic. Insane.
Castiel looked up at him with a sleepy smile, not quite bothering to raise his head. “I’ve heard it from a very reliable source that watching someone else sleep is ‘creepy’.” Dean could see his hands move under the blankets, adding little air quotes to the words. He laughed and then he couldn’t stop laughing and then he was crying and he couldn’t stop that either.
In an instant Castiel was up, blankets tossed aside, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching a hand out to Dean but not touching him. “Dean, I’m sorry. Please don’t be upset. Please, I-”
Castiel stammered to a halt, clearly not knowing what of his many perceived failings to apologize for. Twelve years. Gods, Dean wished he could travel through time and smack himself in every one of those years. His mother always said that Angels were watching over him, and she’d somehow managed to send him the best of the bunch, and he hadn’t known what to do about it. He wouldn’t mess this up again. He couldn’t. He took a deep breath and swallowed down his tears.
“You have exactly one thing to apologize for, Cas, and that is sacrificing yourself for me. Don’t do that, man. Whatever it is, we’ll find a way. We always do. And whatever happens, even if we go down swinging, it’s better than standing there watching you die and not being able to do a damn thing about it.”
“I’m sorry,” Castiel replied softly. He did indeed seem sorry that Dean was crying, but-
“But you’d do it again, wouldn’t you?”
Castiel shrugged, not looking at him. But Dean knew what that meant now. I love you. Everything you have ever done, you have done for love. He told himself that he wouldn’t say it tonight, that Cas needed time to adjust. But what Cas needed was to feel safe. Valued. Loved. Happy. Gods, he wanted Cas to be happy. Happiness… is in just saying it.
“You know, you never asked me,” he said. He’d thought of a thousand ways to have this conversation and none of them ever sounded right in his head. Now that the moment was finally here, he was… just saying it. Sure he would be saying it wrong, but also suddenly so sure that it didn’t matter. “You never asked me for whatever it is you thought you couldn’t have.”
Castiel’s head snapped up at that, a sudden look of fear in his eyes. He hadn’t looked afraid as he’d been dragged into a hell dimension, but he looked afraid now.
“You’ve always had me, Cas. Maybe since pulling me out of Hell. Maybe since before then, I don’t know. No, I do know,” he immediately corrected himself. “Not before then. Because this? Us? This isn’t fate or destiny telling us what we have to be. I think Chuck hated it, actually, because no matter what he threw at us, no matter how bad I reacted and fucked everything up between us- and I know I did, Cas, and I’m sorry- he couldn’t make me stop loving you.” He broke off abruptly, feeling suddenly lighter. Cas really had been right about saying it. “I love you.”
Castiel smiled. It was soft and calm and peaceful and there weren’t any tears mixed in and no one was coming to hurt him. No one was coming to hurt either of them ever again. “And I, you.”
Dean grinned. “Awesome. Now please, can you promise me that you’re not going to go throw yourself into danger without talking to me first?”
“Will you promise the same?” Castiel countered.
“Yeah, I will.” Castiel looked surprised at Dean’s lack of hesitation. But then Dean took his hand and brushed his thumb gently across Cas’s knuckles. “Think how mad Chuck will be at seeing us have our happy ending.”
Castiel laughed at that, laughed in a way Dean wasn’t sure he ever heard before. He slid back into the bed, not letting go of Dean’s hand. Dean crawled after him and curled up at his side as though he’d always been there. As though he always would be. Dean promised himself that he would make that second part be true.
They woke in each other’s arms, the most restful sleep Dean had gotten since that terrible night in the dungeon almost three months ago. When they went into the kitchen, still holding hands, Jack was setting the table for breakfast and Sam was frying bacon.
“Bacon? Sammy, you’re voluntarily cooking bacon? Is this a special welcome breakfast for Cas?”
Castiel had wandered over to the stove and stolen a too-hot piece of bacon from the plate beside Sam. “I think I like bacon, Dean,” he announced.
“Nope, it’s for you!” Sam answered. “Happy birthday, Dean.”
Birthday? Dean grabbed Sam’s phone off the counter and checked the date on the lock screen. The past few weeks, he had been so focused on Cas coming back that he had lost track of the date. January 24th. His birthday. Huh.
Dean Winchester was 42 years old. He was standing in the kitchen of his home. His brother was beside him, safe and happy and dating an amazing woman who would video chat them later so she could show Dean the ASL signs for Happy Birthday. His son sat at the table, ignoring the bacon in favor of fresh fruit and whipped cream. His son was an unimaginably powerful deity, but he was working on fixing that. And more than anything else he ever was, he was a good kid. And then there was his- partner? Boyfriend? He guessed they’d have to talk about the right word for them at some point (In a few weeks from now, he would bring this up with Sam and Sam would matter-of-factly suggest that at this point “husband” was really the most fitting term) but for now he was just his Cas. Here and whole and happy.
This was his life. Dean was so glad to finally- finally- live it.