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Dean remembers the first time Cas ever showed his wings. It was pretty early into their relationship and Cas was more than a little nervous—like, visibly so, which is really saying something when Cas' default expression is either a full-on squint or a grumpy pout—but Dean, well, maybe he was being kind of insensitive about it, but he really wanted to see them, and as with most things, Cas eventually relented.
His wings, in a word, are gorgeous. Big and shiny, with a rainbow hidden under feathers that are nearly the same shade as his baby's sleek black paint. Then Dean reached Cas, who had been avoiding eye contact for the first time since he'd known the guy, and got to touch the wings, and he nearly melted in his spot, having never felt anything so soft, unspoken power buzzing beneath his fingertips and making Dean feel like he'd been petting electricity.
Turns out that Cas loves having his wings pet, and that he can even be lulled to sleep like that, turned into a content puddle of happy celestial goo whenever Dean reaches up to run his fingers through Cas' wings, and Dean loves being able to do that for him, loves seeing his angel so content, all cute and rumbly like a purring cat.
Of course, Dean didn't realize the significance of such an action at the start of their…thing together, and it had actually been Sam that mentioned how angels only let their mates, their closest and most loyal companions that they're just mega in love with, touch their wings like that, that touching an angel's wings isn't something just anyone can do (which explains why Cas refuses to whip them out when Sam's around).
Cas had gotten all embarrassed when Dean admitted to knowing that little fact when he was elbow-deep in feathers, but Dean felt…special in a way he never has before, knowing he was the only one Cas ever trusted to touch his wings. And Cas clearly loves it, and would regularly just flop down on the bed and present his wings for a thorough petting, and Dean loves petting them, feels honored each and every time he gets to see the proof of his angel's status as, well, an angel.
That's why he's so confused when it stops.
Granted, Dean didn't really realize it had stopped until he looked over at Cas half dozing off on Dean's side of the bed (a clear silent request for cuddles) and realized it's been quite a while since he'd last lulled Cas to sleep with a nice wing petting session, but once that thought entered his brain, it refused to leave. Why didn't Cas want him to pet his wings anymore? Did Dean…do something?
He tries to remember the last time he'd seen Cas' wings, tries to remember if he did anything, but to his knowledge, it'd been just like any other day, if tinged with guilt. It was a little while after Cas popped out of Purgatory, and Cas had been pretty stressed and guilty about the whole thing, but Dean tried to show him without words that anything that happened there or in the past was forgotten, that Dean was just glad Cas was there with him then.
Then Dean had gotten all distracted with the Sam's Trials to close the Gates of Hell and Cas had gotten screwed over by the angels again as that Metatron dickbag tricked him into sending all the angels down to Earth. He really wishes he'd been there for Cas when he was human for that brief time, but Ezekiel—no, Gadreel—really button-holed him in. Cas said he understood, but Dean saw how deeply it cut him.
Later, when Cas was an angel again and they actually talked about things, it nearly broke Dean's heart in two when Cas admitted he thought Dean kicked him out because he cheated on him, as if that bitch April forcing him into sex, April raping him was Cas' fault. He'd been quick to eliminate that particular line of thinking, and Dean likes to think they came to a better understanding because of it.
That's when he realizes just how long it's been since Cas had loved and trusted him enough to show him his wings, and Dean wonders if maybe Cas understood Dean's 'forgiveness' for the thing that wasn't even his fault about as well as Cas understood when Dean told him he couldn't stay, even when he wanted nothing more than to scoop his angel up and make sure nobody ever hurt him again.
Suddenly, Dean wonders just how much Cas understands about their relationship at all. Surely he doesn't think it's just founded on sex or anything, right? Dean might not take him on the most dates, and he hasn't actually found the courage to drop the big 'l' word yet, but Cas has to know, right?
Well…maybe not. Even if Cas knows Dean better than he knows himself, he's never been great at picking up on unspoken things. So Dean starts taking him on dates. At first, he's confused as to why Sam's not going, and Dean has to push through the embarrassment to explain that this is what people who are…together do; it'd all been worth it for the way Cas' face lit up at his words, and then the date itself…
"Dean, why does the waitress keep looking at us?" Cas says in what he probably thinks is a whisper.
Dean has taught Cas a lot about the world, but he can't help but want to hide some of the bad parts from him, so he just shrugs. "Dunno, buddy. Just two people, on a date. Nothing she hasn't seen before."
"Date," the angel repeats quietly, a happy little smile coming to his face, and Dean doesn't regret a thing, especially when the waitress walks by with a piece of pie for a nearby table.
They continued going out together after that, but after nearly a dozen dates, still no wings. And it's not like Dean's just doing this to see Cas' wings again, because he does genuinely enjoy taking Cas out and just spending time with him. It's just that the longer they go on without a glimpse of a single feather, the more guilty Dean feels.
Maybe he just needs to up his game, even if that pushes him out of his admittedly kind of small comfort zone.
One night, when Sam's out giving them what he has so bitchily dubbed 'gay time' (ugh), Dean's leaning against the headboard beside Cas and turns to the angel. "Cas, I…uh, you know I…love you and stuff, right?"
Cas freezes for a second, head turning away from the dumb infomercial to look at him, and try as he might, Dean just can't quite refuse eye contact. Eyes wide with surprise, instead of pulling a Han Solo or saying it back or anything, the angel asks with audible wonder, voice just this side of vulnerable, "You do?"
Dean's heart just about splits in two, but he nods and swallows. "I mean, yeah. Of course I do. How's that even a question?"
"I…I suppose I just didn't think…"
Cas trails off, and Dean's already hitting himself because Cas felt the need to question that fact, so he doesn't waste any time before just leaning in and kissing him to shut him up. As predicted, Cas just melts right into it, because he loves kisses and hugs and physical contact and all of that gooey stuff, because of or maybe in spite of him having never gotten any of it in Heaven.
"I…love you, Cas," Dean whispers into his hair later, not quite ready to say it while looking into those intense blue eyes yet.
"I…I think I love you too, Dean."
"Oh, you think, huh?" he can't resist teasing a little, biting at Cas' ear playfully. "What, the wing-petting wasn't enough of a giveaway?" Suddenly, Cas turns as stiff as a board in his arms. "Cas? What's wrong?"
"Nothing." Cas is a bad liar on a good day, so he's about as convincing as a kid with a baseball bat looking at a broken window. "I know I love you."
Something uncomfortable is starting to settle in his gut, but Dean reluctantly lets it go, not wanting to spoil the first time they ever say this. "Yeah. Me too, buddy."
-
Exchanging 'I love you's becomes something they do all the time, and each and every time, Dean truly means it with everything he's got. He kind of wants to die the first time Sam hears it, but doesn't care enough to take back the claim, especially when Cas easily returns the phrase the way he always does.
Dean feels closer to Cas than ever now and has apologized again for kicking him out, just in case that's still weighing on the angel's mind, but despite everything, he still has yet to catch another glimpse of the wings he loves so much. He gathers the courage to ask once, but Cas goes so stiff that he might as well be made of concrete and never answers.
Finally, Dean just comes right out and asks one night that reminds him far too much of petting Cas' soft wings long into the midnight hours, "Is it me?"
Cas looks at him from where he's looking all snuggly and sleep-warm, hogging way over half the bed in the time it took Dean to get up for a glass of water and return. "What?"
"This…wing thing." Cas predictably looks away, so Dean gets closer until he's sitting on the bed beside Cas' legs, waiting until the angel inevitably meets his eyes and hating how they seem to be filled with shame and fear. "Why won't you show me your wings anymore? Did I…do something?"
"Dean…"
"Whatever it is, I'm sorry, Cas. For kicking you out. For somehow making you feel like April was your fault when it really wasn't. For how crappy I treated you before that mess with Purgatory—all of it, man." When Cas sits up a little, Dean takes his hands into his own and holds them close. "Please, just tell me what I did so I can fix it."
"You didn't do anything." Dean scoffs a little, but Cas shakes his head and gives him a pleading sort of look. "Dean, please just drop it. I can assure you that you didn't do anything to cause this."
Instead of dropping it, he squeezes the angel's hands, tone softening. "So there is something?"
"Yes," Cas eventually concedes with a weary sort of sigh. "But it has nothing to do with you."
"So, what, is this some 'it's not you, it's me' speech?"
"No? The problem lies solely on me, not you." Any other day, Dean might've laughed, but he only frowns now, unwavering. "Dean, please drop it."
"I'm not gonna drop it when this is hanging over your head, too, angel. Since when have you ever dropped anything when you could see how much it was crushing me, huh?" He ducks his head slightly to meet Cas' fleeting gaze. "Loving someone means sharing their burdens and all that crap. So c'mon, lay it on me, buddy."
"But this burden is my own fault, and I alone should be the one to bear it."
"Cas." Dean just keeps holding eye contact, commanding softly, "Talk to me."
"It started with the spell," Cas begins with endless weariness after a long moment, pulling his hands out of Dean's grip just to stare down at them, and though he wants to comfort the angel, he doesn't force anything on him. "Metatron used my grace as one of the ingredients in the spell that cast all the angels from Heaven, damning them to a life on Earth."
Dean swallows hard. He'd known about this already, of course, and honestly thought he helped Cas through it a little. Looking at the angel now, shoulders all hunched in on himself and refusing to look up, Dean realizes Cas may have been holding onto all this guilt this whole time.
"But I wasn't cast out. I became…human. Physically, at least. But my time as a human has taught me something, Dean." Cas glances up for a second before looking at his blanket-covered lap again, looking all small and vulnerable in Dean's old Metallica t-shirt. "I realized that no matter how hard I try, I'll never truly…fit."
"What do you mean?" Dean asks quietly, worriedly, wanting nothing more than to hold Cas close and squeeze all these thoughts right out of him but knowing that as much as Cas loves hugs, they can't fix everything, can't take the place of words that need to be shared.
"I don't have a place in this world, Dean. I never 'fit in' with the other angels. They always considered me strange and wrong. Broken. The one that was created incorrectly. I came off the line with a crack in my chassis. They would say if I cared for the humans so much, I should join them." Angry thoughts directed toward a certain fleet of winged-dicks spring up instantly, but before Dean can say anything, Cas adds, "It took becoming human to realize I don't 'fit in' with them, either."
"Cas, c'mon," he starts, but Cas shakes his head.
"Dean, I-I couldn't do anything. Everywhere I went, everyone looked at me as if there were something wrong with me, as if they all knew that I didn't belong. I don't belong in Heaven or on Earth. I realized I simply don't have a place to belong to."
"Now that's a load of crap. You do belong here," Dean says firmly, cupping Cas' face when the angel tries to look away. "No matter what happens, you'll always have a home here, with us. With me. You're my angel, Cas, no matter what."
For whatever reason, it seems those words are the wrong ones, because Cas is quick to bat his hand away. "No I'm not. I'm hardly even an angel anymore," Cas replies somewhat sharply, but the bite does nothing to hide the nearly tangible hurt in that one phrase. "Dean, I-I'm useless. What little is left of my grace is so tiny and pathetic and worthless that I can barely even be considered an angel anymore!"
"Hey—"
"I can't show you my wings, Dean, because there's nothing to show," Cas bites out, looking like he might cry. "I just can't."
"You…you lost your wings?" Dean whispers with muted horror, and Cas' shoulders drop, all the fight in him just seconds before suddenly gone.
"It'd be better if I did than to think about the sorrowful state they're in now…"
Dean gives him a pitying look before pausing. No, he knows the last thing he wants when he's feeling crappy is pity. Instead, he commands firmly but gently enough that Cas knows he'll drop it if he really wants him to, "Show me your wings."
"W-what? Dean, you can't possibly want to see—"
"I do," he assures, meeting Cas' eyes, wanting to get his point across. "I wanna see, Cas. Let me see."
"Dean…you don't understand," the angel says quietly, eyes big and lost and so, so sad. "My wings are destroyed. They're just pitiful reflections of what they used to be. They're…they're grotesque and repulsive. Every angel or demon we come across can't even bear to look at them, even when they're actively trying to kill us."
"You don't understand, Cas," Dean begins, finding the courage to take Cas' hand again. "Your wings might not be the same as they were before, but I still love them. You know why?" He gets a small head shake and smiles slightly, wondering when he'd gotten so sappy as he gives Cas' forehead a little kiss. "'Cause they're yours."
"You…you can't say that for certain." Cas glances away. "You haven't even seen them."
"So let me see them so I can say the exact same thing."
To his surprise, Cas actually listens, leaning forward slightly as something starts glowing near his shoulder blades. The light gets brighter and brighter until Dean's forced to close his eyes, and when he opens them again, there, going right through Cas' shirt…
Oh, Cas…
Cas wasn't kidding when he said his wings were destroyed. They're just the scorched remains of what used to be big, magnificent wings, just a few feathers clinging on when there used to be countless tides of them covering every square inch of the wings, the thin skin stretched painfully tight over bone that's visible in some places. They used to be strong enough to bend and grab onto and force down during certain…activities, but now, Dean's afraid to even skim a finger across them.
"I'm sorry, Dean," Cas says softly after a long, horrified silence. "I never wanted you to see them like this…"
"Cas, I…"
"It's all right. You don't have to pretend. I expected this reaction."
Despite his words, Cas looks crushed, and Dean can't deal with that. This isn't the time for him to mourn on Cas' behalf. This is the time to show him that despite everything, he still is and always will be loved. So he reaches out, but almost chickens out and goes for Cas' shoulder, almost reconsiders.
"Can I?" he asks instead, mirroring what he'd said the first time he'd pet Cas' wings, back when they were full and strong, back before the Fall. Cas only barely nods, stretching one wing closer to Dean's hand the way he had before. Dean brushes two careful fingers along the top where the skin seems way too tight and hates the way Cas flinches away slightly. "That hurt?"
"No. Just…instinct. Sorry."
"It's all right, Cas." He carefully tries again, and the wing remains still, even as Cas' whole body shudders. "Sensitive?"
"Yes." Cas sighs softly, and Dean leans closer so that Cas can rest his forehead against his chest. "My grace is too weak to properly protect them from lesser threats, like touch and weather. Everything feels so…raw."
He hums noncommittedly and keeps gently petting along the wing bone, as if he can soothe away all of Cas' aches and pains that way. Before, he could really scrape his fingertips along the flesh of the wings, could really feel the strong muscles react to his touch as the feathers puffed up in a way Dean secretly loved.
Now, Dean's afraid to press much harder than if he'd been petting a butterfly, afraid to accidentally cause Cas more pain than he's already in. For his efforts, Cas does slowly melt into his touch the way he used to so long ago, and his remaining feathers even make an effort to perk up, though the sight just makes Dean…kind of sad.
It isn't right to see an angel like this, wings all mangled and all but featherless, just a mess of skin and bones hanging limply from his back, like the remains of half-eaten chicken wings. It's physically paining him to look at Cas' wings when he remembers how they were before, how big and beautiful and uninjured. He's never been good at sitting back helplessly when someone he loves is hurt, so this is all but killing him.
But it's not about him. Cas is hurting both physically and…emotionally and stuff. He needs Dean to be strong right now, to show him that he's not repulsive or anything, that Dean still loves him even when he's all banged up, that nothing will change that even if Cas never wants to show his wings again.
He really hopes that's not the case, because even when they look like…this, Dean still loves Cas' wings, loves being able to catch a glimpse of the amazing creature that is his boyfriend when he's not in this vessel. Loves the reminder that despite everything, Cas chose Dean, that Dean's the only one he trusts with this. That they're mates or whatever.
"You can lean on me, Cas," he mumbles as he gently brushes along one of the long feathers at the bottom; what were once strong, pristine flight feathers are now about half the size, the feathers a sickly sort of grey where they'd once been a sleek black. Cas makes a small noise, and Dean smiles a little. "Feel good?"
"Yes…but you don't have to touch them," the angel adds hurriedly, anxiously. "I know they're rather repulsive and awful to even look at, much less to touch—"
"That why you've been neglecting them?" Dean interrupts as he picks a small leaf out of the vanes of a feather, and Cas falls silent, tensing. He sighs, but kisses his angel's head to show him that he's not upset. "You gotta take care of yourself, sweetheart. Can't just shut down like this."
"It's…hard."
"I know." He combs through the vanes of a few feathers, pleased to find that some of the greyness is just from dust. On another day, he might've made a comment about a feather duster, but he can't even think of cracking a joke now. "Anything I can do for them?"
"No…"
"That's okay."
"It's not," Cas mumbles. "I can't even stand to look at them, Dean. They're just always there, hanging off of me, reminding me of what I once was. I…I hate them. Sometimes all I can think about is cutting them off…"
Dean's throat suddenly forms a big, fat lump that makes it impossible for him to say anything. Not that he's really sure what to say anyway. He's never been great at words on a good day, but hearing Cas say something like that in the same voice he used to say he was contemplating suicide…
A thought suddenly occurs to him, and he tentatively asks, "Is it…only your wings, or…?"
"No, my-my true form has been devastated, as well."
He swallows past the increasingly annoying lump, remembering the few times Cas let him see his true form, though only ever in a dream, as that's the only way Dean could see his boyfriend's real appearance without burning his eyes out. He's terrified to think what Cas might look like now…
He tries to rub off some of the scorch marks on the bones, but when that doesn't work, he just kisses the one nearest to him, earning him a gentle sigh from Cas as the wings finally drop a little to rest comfortably on the bed, as Cas finally lets go and relaxes into it. Then, Cas starts talking.
"I don't even feel like an angel anymore. I don't look like an angel. But even living on Earth with you and Sam, I don't feel like a human, either." Cas lifts his head from Dean's shoulder, eyes big and lost. "Dean, what's wrong with me?"
"Nothing's wrong with you. It…it happens, man." He clears his throat and admits quietly, "When you pulled me out of Hell, I was convinced I was a demon. Being around all that filth for so long, cutting into souls like the demons were doing…I didn't feel totally human, even though I did the tests a bunch to myself and knew I wasn't a demon."
"When did you stop feeling that way?" Cas asks quietly, and Dean sighs.
"Honestly? It never really stopped. I would just get distracted with one apocalypse or another and that'd be pushed to the back of my mind. But it still comes out sometimes."
"So I'll always feel like this?" the angel asks miserably, and Dean just gives him a small grin even though his heart aches at the sight.
"Not if I can help it." That gets him a small, shaky smile, but Dean'll take what he can get. "C'mon, turn around, sweetheart. Lemme get the backs."
The backs look even worse, mangled and hanging awkwardly from where they go right through Cas' shirt without disturbing even a single thread, like a glitch in a video game. It used to amuse Dean to no end when Cas would pop them out while still clothed, but now, he can't help but wonder what Cas' back looks like if his wings look like this. They always face each other whenever the clothes come off anyway, so he didn't realize until now how long it's been since he'd seen Cas' back without all the Winchester-esque layers of fabric covering it.
He brushes his thumb over where he knows the oil glands are, but Cas doesn't even react, and the feathers are as dry as can be, missing more than just that beautiful healthy sheen they used to have when Dean would regularly groom his angel's wings. He feels around the area a little more and eventually does feel something, earning him a slight shiver from Cas.
"Still okay?"
"Yes."
"Tell me the second that changes, huh? Last thing I wanna do is hurt you." He kisses the back of Cas' neck, making Cas scrunch his shoulders up, a big grin coming to his face at the tickly sensation. "Capiche?"
"I…capiche."
He gently rubs at what he's pretty sure are Cas' oil glands—kinda hard to tell through the mess of charred skin and broken feathers—but no oil comes out, as if even Cas' wings gave up on themselves. Dean tries for another minute, but doesn't linger, not sure if Cas is aware of this yet and definitely not wanting to bring it to his attention if he doesn't already know.
Dean just moves onto carefully petting the wings, frown deepening every time his fingertips run along a scab or scar or misformed bump. He's eventually able to get Cas to lay down and really relax into it while he gives him a gentle massage, and only stops when he notices Cas' rumbly little snores echo throughout the room.
He smiles softly and maneuvers his angel under the blankets, hesitantly pulling the blanket over Cas' wings when he notices the goosebumps on the unfeathered patches. He settles in beside Cas, careful not to get too close in case Cas isn't comfortable with him using them as a blanket anymore.
Turns out he was worried for nothing, since he wakes up to Cas' one wing draped across his chest. It's not nearly as warm as it used to be, and Dean's heart rate does tick up when he first sees it, half-asleep, but it doesn't take long for that brief second of panic to morph into delight, having thought for sure that Cas would fold his wings away at some point in the night, that he might've tended to them for the last time last night.
But he hadn't, and Dean couldn't be happier given the circumstances, and that's before Cas wakes up and Dean treats him to another thorough petting that earns him a puddle of content, sleepy angel and a weird look from Sam when they finally leave the room for food at two in the afternoon.
Slowly, this becomes a new routine. It takes more than a little convincing, but he's able to get Cas to take his wings out again a few nights later and slowly but surely, it gets back to the way it used to be, where he can give his angel's wings a good petting before bed (when they're at the Bunker instead of a motel room, at least).
It doesn't get any less depressing to see the state of Cas' wings—especially knowing they're a result of some winged dick taking advantage of Cas' good intentions and screwing him over again, knowing they're like this because Dean wasn't there for him even after all that crap with Naomi's mind control—but it does get more bearable.
After a few weeks of attention and unrestrained affection, Cas really seems more comfortable with them again despite the state they're in. Not that he flaunts them or anything, but he'll sometimes just…leave them out until they leave their room and go into a communal area where Sam might be lurking. The first time he shoves his wings into Dean's hands and demands petting, Dean nearly cries.
He realizes early on that there isn't much he can do for them as far as, like, healing or anything goes, but he can at least make Cas more comfortable, both physically and emotionally and all that crap. Besides, it's not like he's making some great sacrifice by petting Cas' wings, since they're still pretty awesome even when they're all banged up, something he tells Cas all the time just to make sure he knows.
His constant massages do have some sort of an impact, at least. By cleaning the wings, some of the scabs and cuts heal up and scar over, if not completely go away, and a few more feathers grow in once everything's a little cleaner, though Cas seems more sad that they're there than anything. Apparently, his feathers usually come in all at once, not a handful here and a few broken pin feathers there.
He takes up reading about birds in his free time, and despite Sam's mocking, it does end up being useful. Blood feathers are apparently a thing, for example, and he's able to stop that issue before it becomes a problem. Warm water helps Cas' oil glands start doing their thing again, giving the new tiny feathers an echo of that shine that used to illuminate all of Cas' plumage. It makes him wonder just how badly Cas' grace is…hurt.
Now, don't get him wrong, Dean's thrilled Cas' wings are doing a little better, and he's really glad that Cas isn't quite so ashamed of them, but there's still an issue he feels they should address, and he's not sure how to approach it.
Finally, he just bites the bullet while he gives the area around Cas' wings a rub-down before bed (turns out his back isn't that bad, just a little…inflamed around where his wings come out; not nearly as bad as Dean thought they'd be). "Hey, Cas, what's your true form look like these days?"
The angel, previously all liquefied and relaxed, instantly tenses, so Dean tries to soothe the tension away, tries to keep things casual. Eventually, he succeeds enough that Cas settles again, asking warily, "Why do you ask?"
"You said it was…uh, hurt, right? Like your wings?" As much as he hates pointing out the damage they both know is there, he doesn't see much of a choice here. "Your wings are looking a little better now, so I was hoping I might be able to help your true form out, too."
There's a long, tense pause before Cas says quietly, avoiding the question entirely, "That's a very kind offer."
Dean doesn't let him get away that easily. "So, can I see it?"
"Um." Dean leans in close, and Cas turns to him, eyes wide and face pale. "I'd rather you didn't…"
"Cas…"
"Dean, you don't understand. What you saw before—I haven't been like that in a long time. I don't even look like an angel anymore."
"Cas, I don't care what you look like, or if you look like an angel or not," he snaps. "You think I give a damn about any of that?"
"Yes," Cas replies sharply, defensively. "Why else would you want to see me? Can't you just take my word for it when I see you don't want to see me like this?"
"Damnit, Cas, it's not about your form. It's about seeing you."
Cas' smite-y face slowly morphs into a familiar confused puppy face. "I don't understand."
"I know," he sighs and slowly goes back to running his hands over Cas' wings, trying to find the words. "It's just that I, y'know, like seeing you. And don't get me wrong, your meatsuit is plenty hot. I just wanna see you. Like, the real you. Uh…think of it like when you were human."
The angel's face falls. "I don't really like to remember that time, Dean…"
"Me neither, but—you talked about how much you missed being able to see my soul, remember?" Dean always feels kind of creepy talking about his own soul, since he still thinks it probably looks as gross as the ones he'd ripped into in Hell, but Cas always calls it…beautiful and stuff, so he swallows down the guilt and pushes forward. "Maybe it's like that. Y'know, you could still see me and everything, but you couldn't see the real me…kind of…"
Honestly, he's not sure how all the soul crap works and can only assume things based off of what Cas has said in the past. Still, Cas seems to understand what he's trying to say and his face softens in a way that'd be imperceptible to anyone but Dean (they stare at each other too much to have not memorized each other's every expression).
"I think I understand. I'm just…ashamed."
"Don't have to be ashamed, sweetheart. Just think of it like…a scar."
"A scar that has no hope of ever healing," Cas says, grumpy pout all but audible, and Dean kisses the back of his head. "Even my wings will never truly heal, no matter how many molts I endure."
"Hey, I know it sucks, but that's kind of what a scar is, sunshine. They're symbols of our mistakes and all that, but also of our growth. Learning experiences." He kneels to drop another kiss directly on Cas' stubbly cheek. "Isn't that what you would say when I bitched about my scars?"
Cas turns his head to face him, cheek still smooshed in the pillow. "That's different. You gained your injuries through helping others. Saving lives. My true form and wings are destroyed because of my own stupidity…"
"It's not a bad thing to trust people, Cas. Not your fault the angels are all scumbags pretending they're the good guys."
Cas makes a noncommittal sound of vague acknowledgement and doesn't reply, and Dean drops it, figuring he should be happy Cas has even come this far. He knows this is far from easy for Cas, but he hates how self-conscious his angel has become in the time he's known him, hates that a large part of that is undeniably Dean's fault.
-
"Dean." Dean glances up from his phone, eyes decidedly gummy in that way they are when he's entirely zoned out and all but asleep. "Dean?"
"Hey, Cas. Must've dozed off." He stifles a yawn and sets his phone down before lying down, scooting closer to the angel beside him and wrapping his arms around his waist, though Cas remains stiff and unmoving from where he's lying on his back, decked out in Dean's own clothes. "You okay?"
"I'm willing to show you my true form." Dean blinks in surprise, half convinced he imagined the words but still instantly a little more awake. After a second, Cas shrinks away as best he can with Dean pulling him against his side, voice coming out a lot less determined and a lot more vulnerable, "That is, if you're still…interested. I understand if you're not, as people tend to change their minds with time—"
"Cas, I'd love to see your true form," Dean assures quickly, sitting up on one elbow to get a better look at the angel, to meet his eyes the way he's done a thousand times before. "But you know you don't have to show me or anything, right? I mean, I'll still…love you and stuff either way, of course."
"Yes, I know." It's a testament to how far they've come that Cas is even able to say that with certainty whereas the first time Dean uttered those words, Cas' response had been a heartbreaking, 'you do?'. "But I…I can't even imagine never being able to see your soul again. So I thought maybe…"
It's clear Cas doesn't know how to end the sentence, so Dean throws him a bone and kisses him, smiling when Cas visibly relaxes into the mattress and kisses back. Dean keeps it simple and sweet, knowing now isn't the time for anything too rough, that now's the time for the unspoken comfort they've always been good at, just a look or a touch soothing their very souls.
"Guess I better get to sleep then, huh?" he whispers against Cas' lips, just to feel them turn up into a smile. With one final peck, he settles back against Cas' side and tries to doze off, Cas' slightly shaky hand running through his hair making this a little easier. "'Night, Cas."
"Goodnight, Dean."
Dean knows the minute he drifts off because when he opens his eyes, he's on a familiar pier overlooking a tranquil lake, fishing rods at the ready. This is the same lake he dreamed about that one time Cas showed up in his dreams to give him a message, right before the other angels hauled his ass up to Heaven and beat him into submission again. The only difference now is that there are two rods and two chairs, his mind even subconsciously making room for his angel.
He doesn't see Cas anywhere, but he isn't too worried about it and drops into one of the chairs. His dreams are always more 'real' when Cas pops into them, so he knows he's around here somewhere, hiding in the surrounding trees mostly likely to gather his courage. How somebody the size of the Chrysler Building can remain out of sight is still beyond Dean.
Only…Cas isn't the size of the Chrysler Building. When something huge and glowy finally peeks out from the treeline, the first thought that hits Dean is 'wow, Cas shrunk in the wash'. Instead of being 1,040 feet tall, he's only around 300, and Dean's…not sure why. Is this a side effect of the Fall, or his weakened grace…?
He tries not to let it show and gives Cas an easy smile. "Hey, sunshine."
The duel fiery rings that hover around Cas' body, once bright enough that Dean could barely look at them and now no brighter than a campfire, twist and spin, his three pairs of mangled wings twitching closer like he wants to use them to cover himself, but can't due to the heartbreaking lack of feathers. "Um. Hello, Dean. Be not afraid…?"
"Of you? Never."
Cas' true voice spoken right into his head used to be overwhelming to the point where Dean would have to do most of the talking and try to figure out what every little twitch of Cas' massive form meant. Now, it barely creates a buzz under Dean's skin, barely even bothers him. As if reading his thoughts, Cas' wings slump and draw closer around himself, but Dean doesn't comment, instead looking at all the disembodied eyes locked onto him, gaze as intense as any that Cas' vessel can muster.
"See something you like?" Dean asks with a wink, and all the eyes dart away at once, rings twisting a little faster. "Hey, you can look. Nothing you haven't seen before, right?" The wheels spin faster and glow a little brighter, and Dean grins. "So, is this the angel equivalent of a blush or what?"
"Dean," Cas says simply, not actually answering the question, though his four heads—three animals and one vaguely human—do look at him again. "This is my true form now, after…everything."
"Yeah, I got that."
"What…what do you think?"
"I'm thinking it's a damn shame you're made of light, 'cause I kinda wanna see what happens if I smooch your fiery rings." At his words, Cas' whole body lights up and his thousand glowing eyes drop to the ground. "You got four heads to kiss like this, right? Why don't you get down here so I can get started?"
The head that looks like an Impala makes a weird sound that Dean pays no attention to, too busy trying to decipher Cas' holy body language. After a moment, Cas does lower his two spindly hands to the ground for Dean to climb into, gently cupping around him the second he's on them and taking him up Cas' flowing body like the most careful elevator he's ever been in.
He gently strokes his whole hand across Cas' thumb where a fingernail would normally be, smiling as he's taken up to be more or less eye level with Cas' humanoid, noseless, mouthless, and earless face, bright blue pupil-less eyes locked onto him, face contorted into an almost shy expression that Dean's not used to. Even with no distinguishable facial features beyond a pair of eyes, Dean can tell just what he's thinking. Even when he's 300 feet tall, he's still just a dorky little guy in a trench coat in Dean's mind.
"Hey there, sweetheart. Doing okay?"
"Yes. Just…not used to this."
"Yeah, me neither." He kisses the thumb that's a bit longer than Dean's entire body, smiling when Cas' wings flap out like they want the attention he can't easily give when every single feather is a lot bigger than he is. He looks up and down Cas' body crafted of solid but fluid light, twisting around to give him the long, flowing dress that makes up his entire body below his heads. "So, what is it that you didn't want me to see?"
"Dean, you…don't have to pretend. We both know I'm…" Cas' thousand eyes dart away again, "small."
"Aw, c'mon. Since when have you ever worried about size?"
"Dean."
"Besides, big you was badass, and not that this version isn't, but you're…I dunno, kinda cute like this. All fun-sized even though you're still 300 feet tall."
"…cute?"
"Well, yeah. Not that you weren't before either, but I mean… I know it sucks that you got a downgrade, but at least I can actually look at you now, y'know?"
"And you view this as…a good thing?"
"C'mon, don't sell yourself short. 'Course I wanna be able to look at you. You're my angel, aren't you?" He kisses Cas' thumb, but frowns when Cas' body slumps down a little, hands dropping so that Dean's eye level with his collarbone instead of his face. "Aw, hey, what's wrong?"
"I'm barely even an angel anymore, Dean," he says sadly. "This…this is what the other angels see when they look at me."
"Yeah, so? Haven't they ever heard it's on the inside that counts?" A thousand eyes squint at him and four heads tip to the side, and Dean feels a new wave of love explode from him that he hopes Cas can pick up on. "Either way, screw them. They can all go straight to Hell for all I care."
"The angels have never really…appreciated my presence, but now, the way they look at me…"
"Hey, I get it," Dean says more softly, rubbing the pad of Cas' giant thumb until the angel's eyes all look at him again. "They might be dicks, but they're still family, and their opinions matter even when they shouldn't." Cas' faces soften, and it takes everything in Dean not to look away. "Just know that whatever happens and no matter what they think, you'll always be my angel."
The wheels of fire encompassing Cas' body really start spinning at that, even before Cas replies, like the giant wavelength of celestial dorkiness that he is, "And you're my human."
Dean had told Cas how weird that sounded the first time he said it, but then Cas pointed out that Dean was essentially calling him the same thing, so he let it go. Besides, Cas never really uses pet names or anything, preferring to just say 'Dean' like it's the most sacred word in the universe, so Dean grew fond of the weirdness of Cas' rebuttal.
He keeps petting over Cas' hand, wishing he were big enough to pet all six of Cas' wings, wishing he were big enough to draw Cas' entire true form into a big hug. But he's only one human, and nothing reminds him of just how lucky he is more than looking at Cas' true form, all big and imposing but still soft and weird and—damnit—adorable because it's him.
"Bring me higher," he demands gently, as if one measly 6'1" human has any right to tell an angel what to do. But this is Cas, so he's raised slowly until Dean tells him to stop, until he's close enough to kiss Cas' giant humanoid forehead. "Love you," he whispers, and the reaction is instantaneous. Cas' whole form glows brighter, from the tips of the horns on his impala head to the flowing dress of light covering his feet, and Dean can't help but grin in satisfaction. "Hear that? I love you, Cas."
"Dean…"
He's never heard Cas' true voice whine before. It's cute enough that Dean keeps the praise coming, words spilling from his lips before he can even think of them as he presses kisses to every part of Cas he can reach.
"Love you, Cas. Whether you're as big as a building or small enough to be the perfect size for cuddling. Never could resist you, ever since you blasted through those barn doors and made all the lights go wild, ever since you started toeing the line and helping me out, doing what's right even when it's scary. Always so brave, Cas, always trying your best…"
"I think I fell in love the moment I saw your soul in Hell," Cas says, and Dean's eyes widen as bits and pieces of a fragmented memory he didn't know he had come to him, all centered around the massive dork in front of him even before Cas lifts one giant hand to rest the very tip of one long, thin, scarecrow-y index finger on his shoulder—on the shoulder.
"I think I remember you, Cas," Dean whispers, resting his hand over Cas' finger, as if one decidedly weak human touch would ever be enough to hold an angel in place. "You showed up, a million eyes on me, guns blazing, ready to smite the hell out of anybody who dared to try to mess things up…"
"I would not have let anyone interfere," Cas promises, like that's what he's worried about. "Hester once said that I was lost the moment I laid a hand on you in Hell. But she was wrong. I wasn't lost, I was found."
Dean's heart melts a little, even if all he says is, "Dork."
"It's true," Cas replies with just enough of an audible pout that Dean suddenly wants to be able to see Cas' face, wants to hold him and pet his wings again. But changing dreams gets a little tricky when an angel gets involved, so Dean doesn't even try, instead kissing Cas again.
"Hey, what time is it in the real world?" Four heads tip sideways, each more endearing than the next, so Dean explains, "I miss being able to hold you."
"We can wake up at any time."
We. God, Dean loves him, loves that everything is now 'we' and 'their' in a way he's never experienced before. "Will this be the last time you let me look at all your hot wheels, or will this be a repeat performance?"
"Oh. Um." All the eyes blink at once before squinting at him. "You'd want to…see me again?"
"Every day if I could," he answers, meaning every word. "I love seeing you. Real you or just your vessel. You know that."
Cas' flaming rings start spinning fast again, but his eyes don't flick away this time, instead staying locked on Dean. "Really?" the angel asks with the same tone he'd used to say 'you do?' in response to Dean saying 'I love you'.
It's times like these where Dean regrets ever getting involved in Cas' life, regrets ever grabbing him by the wings and yanking him down from Heaven and the life he had Upstairs, all just to haul him to Earth into Dean's grubby human hands. But Cas…Cas loves Earth, and Dean knows he'd never truly be happy in Heaven, even if it meant having his wings intact and his status among the other angels unchanged.
He can't change the past, but he can do his best to change the present, so he squeezes Cas' thumb into a hug the way he wants to squeeze Cas' whole body. "Of course I do. Do your Jedi mind trick if you don't believe me."
"I believe you," Cas assures, but Dean encourages him again to read his mind, and even without any facial features apart from two brilliant blue eyes, Dean can tell the second Cas does so, even if all he expresses aloud is a soft, "Oh…"
"Yeah, 'oh'. Now take me back to the waking world so I can show you, huh?"
Cas' true form, once big and blinding and perfect but now smaller and dimmer but no less beautiful in Dean's eyes, shudders at the request from a mere mud-monkey as he's been called, like Dean's words are the ones that matter more than those of anyone else in the world. It's not something Dean takes lightly. He just wishes his words could be enough to get Cas to see himself the way Dean sees him, though he guesses Cas sometimes wishes the same thing about him.
They're both a couple of dumbasses, that's for sure, and if anybody can handle them, it's each other. Cas might not look the same as he did years ago, and he might be a little more worn around the edges from the wear and tear of a hunter's life, but Dean certainly doesn't love him any less, and he hopes he'll be able to get Cas to the point where he doesn't view this new version of himself as less either—just a new chapter in his life…or whatever.
It'll probably be difficult, especially considering Dean has trouble with the same thoughts about himself, but they have all the time in the world to get there. Dean will just have to do his best to show his angel that even the 'bad' changes don't have to be bad, one wing petting session and cuddle-filled movie night at a time.