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“Dammit, Bobby! He’s my brother!” Dean’s fists slammed against the table, causing a pile of spell books to topple over and fall to the ground.
“I know he’s your brother, you damn idjit.” Bobby replied. “But we’ve done all we can do. We got ‘em patched up all right, all we can do now is wait.” Dean blinked back the tears threatening to form in his eyes. He looked down at his lifeless brother on the cot just a few feet away from him. Sam had gotten hurt hunting before, in fact, it happened damn near all of the time. But it had never been quite this bad. He had lost a lot of blood. Bobby and Dean had cleaned the wounds and sewed him back up, but it had been nearly an hour and Sam still hadn’t regained consciousness. Dean felt the gnawing sensation of guilt and fear clawing at the pit of his stomach, threatening to escape him. “Listen, Dean. I know you feel like this is your fault, but it’s not. Sam… he’ll… he’ll pull through. The stubborn kid always does.” Bobby was trying to keep his voice light, but Dean could hear the doubt in his voice.
Dean grabbed the nearly empty scotch bottle off of the table in front of him and took a swig. The scotch burned as it slid down his throat, but it didn’t calm the panicking feeling growing inside him. He gripped the bottle tighter in his hand and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Bobby demanded, unable to mask the worry in his voice.
“Out.” Dean muttered gruffly. Dean stumbled his way towards the Impala. He didn’t even know why he bothered drinking like this anymore. It didn’t help. Nothing helped when Sam was in this kind of trouble. But someone could help. All he would have to do was ask. Leaning against his car, Dean cleared his throat and thought for a minute. He shook his head and took another swig. He couldn’t call Castiel. The last time they spoke hadn’t ended on terms that allowed him to just call in a favor. Castiel had admitted to feeling used, feeling like the only time Dean ever called on him was when he needed a quick fix to a sticky situation. Dean winced at the thought of Cas feeling like that. It wasn’t true. Not intentionally at least. He enjoyed Cas’ company, but it wasn’t exactly like he could call him down from heaven whenever he wanted so they could have a few beers. Neither of their schedules, neither of their lives could possibly allow that.
Feeling the all too familiar feeling of guilt, Dean finished off the bottle. He had to try, even if Castiel didn’t show up. Sam’s life could depend on it. He tossed the bottle, watching its glass shatter against the dewy ground.
“Cas… if you hear this… I need you. Real bad, man. Sammy’s not doing too good. Me and Bobby have done all we can do, but I don’t think it’s working. I think maybe-“ Dean stopped, hearing the familiar, faint rustle of wings that always gave away Castiel’s presence.
“Hello, Dean.”
“Cas… I know what we talked about last time, but-“
“Where is Sam?” Dean gaped at the angel. Despite everything that had been said, despite the abuse that Castiel had felt, he was still here. He still wanted to help.
“He’s inside. He looks real bad.” Dean blinked, and Castiel was gone. Dean knew he was inside, looking over Sam. But normally, he would have just walked inside with Dean. Dean felt an unwelcome pang of sadness and guilt as he realized Castiel was avoiding him.
Dean wasn’t surprised to see Castiel standing over Sam, his eyebrows scrunched together in both concentration and intrigue. He tilted his head slightly, reading Sam’s mind and body as if it were an open book. “You were right to have called me. Sam has sustained serious injuries. What did this?”
“That’s just it. We don’t know. We’ve never seen anything like it before. At first we thought it was a werewolf, but it just doesn’t fit the lore. It was like nothing we had could kill the damn thing.” Bobby responded gruffly. The older man rubbed his eyes. Dean leaned against the doorframe, grateful for the man that had been their father more times than John Winchester ever could.
“I can heal him. But I won’t be able to do it all at once, I’m not powerful enough. Whatever creature did this… it was powerful. Not just in the sense of physique, but magic as well.”
“Sounds like it has Crowley written all over it.” The bitterness was clear in Dean’s voice. Castiel looked over at him, his blue eyes reflecting an emotion that the hunter couldn’t quite place. Bobby looked back and forth between them, feeling the attention in the air.
“Well I’m gonna go on a beer run. I need a few drinks after everything I’ve seen tonight. Just try and fix ‘em up, alright, Cas?” The angel nodded at Bobby, already placing his index and middle finger to Sam’s forehead. Dean brushed past Bobby, taking the seat that was once his.
“Thanks for this, Cas. Really. You didn’t have to show up. I’m kinda shocked you did.” Castiel’s fingers remained on Sam’s head, but his eyes shot over to Dean.
“I always come when you call. Always.” His voice was strong and loyal, but Dean picked up on the strained emotion in his eyes.
“I know you think I only pray to you when I’m in trouble. And god, I know it has to seem that way. Sometimes it even seems that way to me. But I don’t just want you around whenever it’s convenient. I don’t just want to call on you whenever I need an angel’s touch when things get a little hairy. You’re my friend and-“
“I understand, Dean. There’s no need to explain yourself. I’m dealing with heaven. You’re dealing with earth. There’s a lot going on that’s outside of our control. We should be focusing on that, not my petty feelings of-“ his eyebrows furrowed and he looked down “-whatever this is.” Dean tried to keep a straight face, but felt his lips turn up into a smirk. Sometimes he forgot how much Castiel had changed, how much he had learned in his few agonizing years since stepping foot on earth. Something about him learning new emotions, and trying to place them was charming. Castiel looked back up at Dean, he looked tired.
“Ever thought about catching some sleep, buddy?” Dean asked, licking his lips habitually.
“You know angels don’t sleep, Dean.”
“I know, it’s called small talk. It’s what we humans do when we want to lighten things up.”
“But it’s not dark in here.” Dean sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb.
“I’m sorry, okay, Cas? I’m sorry. The next time I call you down it’s going to play pool or throw back a few drinks or something.” Dean saw Castiel’s lips turn up slightly. He smirked and added “But you can’t drink an entire liquor store this time.” The angel stared at him blankly. “Yeah, Sammy told me about that one. I have to say, I’m pretty impressed.” Dean chuckled and Castiel smiled.
“You know, that’s one of the most pleasant sounds to me. Your laugh.” Castiel observed Dean as he said this, tilting his head slightly. Dean felt his smile drop and his face grow a little hot. He had never received a compliment like that. Even if it did come from a weirdo in a trench coat.
“Okay, Shakespeare. You just focus on fixing Sammy up.”
“I’ve done almost all of the healing I can do for now. Too much too soon will be much too overwhelming to Sam’s body. This is magic I am unfamiliar with. But Sam is going to be fine” He removed his fingers, staring down as Sam curiously. Dean abruptly stood up, wrapping Castiel into an embrace. The confused angel stood in shock for a moment before hugging him back.
“I don’t say this nearly enough, but thanks, Cas. Thank you. For everything you’ve done, and for what you’re doing now.” He pulled back, but his hands remained on Castiel’s shoulders. Castiel’s blue eyes searched Dean’s green ones, getting lost in them for a moment.
“I’ll probably regret saying this, but you know me…. I’m always here for the Winchesters whenever they need me.” He joked. Dean felt a goofy grin spread across his lips, He appreciated that the angel was developing a better sense of humor every time he saw him. Noticing that his hands were still on Castiel, Dean cleared his throat and let his arms drop to his sides.
“You can joke about it all you want, but if you keep hanging out with us, you probably will regret it. People have the tendency to die around us pretty quickly.” Dean was mostly joking, but he didn’t bother trying to mask the edge on his voice because it was true. This angel was willing to give up everything for him, he already had more than once. “It’s only a matter of time before I screw up and get you killed, Cas. And I can’t let that happen, I just can’t. You, Bobby, and Sammy are all I got.”
“Try as you might, you haven’t gotten me killed so far, Dean. And if I’m going to die, I would rather it be amongst friends, fighting for what I believe is right.” Dean felt his heart swell with admiration for the being in front of him. Castiel was so good. One of the only true good guys left, and his willing to fight by his side. He didn’t feel worthy of this kind of loyalty and devotion. Dean really felt the urge to hug him again, but he heard rustling in the kitchen. Bobby was back with the beer.
“Go have a few drinks and relax, Dean. I’ll stay here with Sam. I’ll let him rest for a few more moments and begin healing him again.”
“Don’t ever stop being so amazing, Castiel.” Dean half-joked playfully before turning on his heel and heading for the kitchen. Castiel turned back to Sam. His visible wounds were mostly healed, and would be with the next round of healing. His internal wounds would take a bit longer, and there was still the matter of this lingering magic that he couldn’t place. He sighed to himself in frustration, knowing that Dean was probably right about Crowley having something to do with this. He placed his fingers to Sam’s forehead again, and felt the once lifeless body flinch under his touch. The long haired brother was slowly regaining consciousness.
After a few minutes of healing, Sam’s eyes opened and he immediately shot up on the cot, his chest heaving.
“Lie back down, Sam. You’re hurt. I’m trying to heal you but I’m not exactly sure what I’m dealing with. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“What happened? Where’s Dean?”
“You were attacked by an undocumented creature. It left you with both physical injuries, and some sort of magical residue that was harming you further. Dean is in the kitchen with Bobby, drinking. They both needed to relax. They’ve been worrying over you for quite some time.” Castiel knew that because he had been watching previous to Dean praying to him, though he was ashamed to admit it. He had been struggling not to make himself known immediately so that he could heal Sam because he couldn’t help but wonder if bringing the Winchesters back from the brink of death time and time again was the right thing. But for some reason, whenever it came to Dean and his family, helping them always felt right.
Sam slowly lied back down, his chest and shoulders still heaving rapidly while he tried to catch his breath. “Cas… did I… did I die?”
“Not quite. But you were fading. You came close.” The angel stared at him curiously before adding. “Why? Did you see something?” Sam licked his lips and shook his head. But then he groaned, pushing his hair out of his face. “I think… I think I saw heaven. Well, my heaven at least. But… is that even possible?”
“If there’s one thing I’ve realized, it’s that when it comes to you and your brother, anything is possible. Why do you think it was heaven?”
“My mom and dad were there… Jess was there… and we were just happy. Like none of this hunter stuff had ever even happened. Like…. Like things should be.” Castiel looked at Sam sadly. The man and his brother were constant reminders that even though Castiel had sacrificed much to save the world, some had sacrificed even more. Sam returned his gaze. The memory, or vision, or near death experience, or whatever it had been, had been pleasant. But something had felt like it was missing, and Sam knew it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that the missing piece consisted of the people in this house with him right now. Seeing Castiel’s eyes mirror how he felt, he decided to change the subject. “What’s your heaven, Cas?”
“I favor the eternal Tuesday afternoon of an autistic man who drowned in a bathtub in 1953.” Caught off guard, Sam raised his eyebrows.
“That sounds a bit…bleak, Cas. But maybe Tuesdays are just permanently ruined for me.” He chuckled lightly, but couldn’t fight back the curiosity he felt creeping up on him. “But that’s not your heaven. That’s just someone else’s heaven that you enjoy. Do angels not get their own heaven? Surely you guys get your own paradise when you die.” Castiel remained silent for a moment, his eyebrows scrunched together, focused deep in thought.
“I suppose you would be correct, Sam.”
“Then what would you heaven be?”
“I… I don’t know. I feel as though it would be a lot of things. It would be beautiful. There would be colors I have not yet experienced, tastes I have not yet tasted. It would be a strange place that was soft, yet strong. Dark, yet passionate. Its sound would be soothing. It would smell like…” He trailed off.
“No, keep going!” Sam smiled reassuringly. None of this heaven made sense to him, but it had his interest. Castiel looked down, clearing his throat in embarrassment. But Sam was doing what Dean affectionately called his ‘puppy eyes’, and he knew he could trust him. He inhaled shakily and reluctantly continued.
“It would smell like leather, and cheap whiskey, and flannel, with this faint hint of something I can never place.” Maybe it was his near death experience, but Sam could almost feel the gears grinding in his brain. “It would shine brighter than any other heaven I’ve ever visited. It would feel like home, and I would never want to leave-“
“You’re heaven…it’s Dean.” Sam interjected. Castiel’s eyes grew wide, before quickly looking at the floor. Embarrassment was not a human emotion that he was very fond of. “Cas… you have to tell him.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You’re a terrible liar.” Castiel went to defend himself, but Sam continued. “Or maybe you’re not lying. You’ve never felt this way, so you can’t comprehend it.”
“Comprehend what, Sam?” The annoyance in Castiel’s voice was clear.
“Cas… you’re in love with Dean.” The words cut through Castiel with more intensity than he could’ve imagined. He opened his mouth to argue, but then quickly shut it. All he knew of love was what the people in this house had taught him, and what Jimmy Novak had showed him when he gave Castiel his vessel to save his daughter. Before any of that, Castiel had never felt love. But what he felt towards Dean was something he couldn’t put into words. Dean was his heaven. Dean was his home. Dean was his everything. He looked up at Sam, noticing that Sam’s facial expression was nothing short of thrilled. He had one of those true, sincerely grins that met his eyes and exposed his dimples. “You have to tell him.”
Castiel’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “What?! No. I… I can’t do that Sam. I… I don’t know the first thing about love. And I’m pretty sure Dean’s sexual orientation is heterosexual, and my vessel is male, and-“
“You know, if someone would have tried to tell me that Dean would be anything but this skirt chasing playboy, I wouldn’t have believed them. But then you came into the picture. You changed a lot of things, Cas. You’ve changed a lot of Dean. It still sounds crazy coming out of my mouth. But have you seen the way he looks at you? He looks at you like you’re his everything. And I’ve seen Dean flirt, practically my whole life. His lips come a little too close to yours. His hands linger on you a little too long. You have to tell him.”
“What I have to do is heal you, Sam.” Castiel raised his two fingers, his hand shaking, but Sam smacked them away.
“I can wait. Because you’re going to go out there and tell Dean how you feel. Or I’m going to personally hop up off this cot and kick your ass, half dead or not.” Sam’s voice was urgent but supportive, and Castiel found himself actually entertaining the idea of telling Dean, but he had no idea where to start. “Just go for it, Cas. Please.”
Castiel released a shaky sigh and stood up, noting the overjoyed look on Sam’s face. He narrowed his eyes at Sam, wishing he could somehow blame all of this on him. He slowly walked out of the room, feeling his entire vessel shake nervously. He found himself wondering if this was how humans felt when placed in the same situation.
When Castiel arrived in the kitchen, Bobby was sitting with his feet up on the table and a beer in his hand, watching television. He scanned the room for Dean, but he wasn’t there. He sighed quietly, thinking perhaps he got off the hook.
“Where is Dean?”
“He stepped outside. Told ‘em he shouldn’t’ve tried drinking all scotch and then try to chug a few beers. He’s getting some air.” Bobby grunted, not taking his eyes off of the television.
Castiel wandered outside, taking his time. He still had no idea what he was going to tell Dean, or how. He found Dean sitting on the hood of the Impala. He didn’t seem nearly as drunk as Bobby had made it seem, which somehow made this both easier and harder for Castiel.
“Hey, Cas. Sammy doing alright?”
“Sam is fine. He’s awake-“
“What?! That’s great! I knew he’d be alright. I mean, with your help of course.” Dean stood up straight and began to walk back to the house.
“Dean! Wait. We need to talk.” Castiel’s voice was gruffer than it normally was. Dean raised a single eyebrow at Castiel, and leaned back against his Impala.
“Okay, Grumpy Greg. Try asking a little nicer next time.”
“My name is not Greg, Dean.”
“What is it that we need to talk about, Cas?” Dean replied, rolling his eyes.
“I…I don’t know where to begin.” Castiel leaned against the Impala next to Dean. Dean just raised his arms, gesturing for him to continue. Castiel looked at the ground, unable to meet Dean’s eyes. He sighed and finally began the speech that he hoped he wouldn’t regret. “Dean, before I met you, I was lost. I didn’t think I was. I thought I was doing a pretty good job serving God and heaven. But it was after I met you that I realized just how lost I was. You’ve taught me so much. In fact, you’ve taught me how to feel, which is something I wasn’t even sure angels were capable of.” He finally met Dean’s gaze. “I may have pulled you out of hell, but in the process, you pulled me into something I can’t even begin to describe.” Dean licked his lips nervously, and raised his eyebrows at the emotionally bare angel. “I remember Sam joking asking me if I liked you more before. And I told him that I have a more profound bond with you. I now realize that it’s not that I like you more, it’s that…it’s different.” Nervousness shown in Dean’s eyes, and he had begun to fidget, pulling at the wrapper on his beer bottle. But not once did he look away from Castiel’s eyes. He didn’t think he could have if he wanted to. They were an ocean of blue, and he suddenly found himself wanting to drown there.
“Cas, where are you going with all of this?” Dean asked, his voice cracking slightly. Castiel stood up, turning so that he was directly in front of Dean. Dean felt his own eyes wander to Castiel’s full lips while they said his name.
“Dean, there are things I see in you that I’ve never seen in another being. Angels, demons, other humans, they all fail in comparison to you. There are entire galaxies in your eyes, entire constellations in the freckles on your skin. I have seen so much in the centuries since my creation, and none of it has left me nearly as breathless as you have.”
“Angels don’t breathe.” Dean said, swallowing hard. Castiel shot him a disgruntled look, so he added “Uh, listen, Cas. I’m not sure what you’re doing. I’m not sure you know what you’re doing. But-“
“I’m trying to tell you I’m in love with you, you fool.” The beer bottle slid out of Dean’s hand, hitting the ground. But neither of them broke the electric eye contact between them.
“No… no you’re not. You can’t be.” Dean gulped. Castiel grabbed Dean’s shirt, bunching it up in his fists, and angrily jerking Dean towards him.
“This is your problem Dean! First you think you don’t deserve to be saved from hell. Now you feel like you don’t deserve to be loved.” Castiel let go of his shirt, causing Dean to stumble slightly. Dean had found his eyes wandering to Castiel’s lips again. “If it’s the last thing I do, Dean Winchester, I will make you realize you’re worthy of love.” Castiel added. His voice was soft and patient, and left Dean suddenly feeling more satisfied than he had been in years.
Before Castiel could even react, Dean’s lips were on his. Despite Castiel’s shock, a content moan escaped through his lips. Dean’s fingers found their way to Castiel’s hair, knotting in them and pulling him closer with each, desperate, loving kiss. Dean kissed down Castiel’s jawline, to his neck. His lips curled into a smile against Castiel’s neck as he felt the goosebumps from his stubble spread across Castiel’s skin like wildfire. This. This is what Dean had wanted. This is what he had needed for so long. Castiel’s hands found their way to Dean’s hips, pulling him all the more closer. Dean sighed hungrily, working his way back to Castiel’s mouth. His fingers released Castiel’s hair, only to work their way under his trenchcoat, shoving it off of him and to the ground. He could tell Cas was nervous. But just as Castiel had promised to prove to Dean that he was worth loving, Dean’s lips were tracing a silent promise to him that there was nothing to be afraid of. As long as Dean was there, Castiel didn’t have to fear a thing.
“I. Love. You.” Dean gasped between kisses. He felt Castiel smile against his lips. And not just that little half smile, but that full blown smile that made Dean weak in the knees. The smile that Dean would burn entire cities just to see.
“And I love you, Dean.” Castiel replied, pulling away just long enough to get the words out. Dean pressed his forehead against the angels, trying to catch his breath.
“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” Dean sighed, fingering Castiel’s tie undone as quickly as he possibly could. Castiel stepped back a little, pulling off Dean’s open button up with clumsy, nervous fingers. To Dean’s surprise, Castiel reached for his belt, unhooking it without taking his eyes off of Dean’s face. Dean whimpered, pulling the angel’s lips against his again. Dean felt the pressure against his waist as Castiel unbuttoned his jeans, followed by relief of his zipper being dragged down. From somewhere to their right, they heard someone clear their throat, causing both of them to jump. They looked over to see both Bobby and Sam standing a few feet away.
“What?” Dean muttered sheepishly, looking down and pulling up his pants since they had begun to slide down. He looked back up at them. “And you can go ahead and wipe that shit eating grin off your face, Sam.” He then looked over to Castiel, who was looking in any direction other than where Bobby and Sam where standing. Even though he was embarrassed to the point of almost combusting, Dean had never seen anyone more beautiful in his entire life,
“Fine. You know what? I’m gonna go ahead and say it.” Bobby piped up. “….It’s about damn time, ya idjits!”