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Most people would be worried about owing the Queen of Hell a favor. Then again, most people wouldn't owe her a favor in the first place. But they did. Or more properly, Sam did. Dean didn't ask to be saved from the rebar in that barn. As a matter of fact, he was dead set against it, no pun intended. But Sam wouldn't let him go, and now they split up to go on a wild goose chase. Or at least that's what Dean thought, but he kept it to himself.
Sam was headed to San Francisco with Eileen, while Dean was headed south to New Orleans with Cas. Dean knew he could do it alone. It was a simple matter. Get into the chapel in St. Roch cemetery, get the stupid relic, get out. Easy as pie, something that Dean didn't need a babysitter for. But Sam was insistent.
"What, you think I can't hunt by myself anymore?" Dean challenged.
Eileen and Sam were seated at the library table. And while Eileen had no trouble meeting Dean's gaze, Sam wouldn't look him in the eye.
"I don't think you're incapable of hunting," said Sam.
"Okay, great, I'll go to New Orleans, get the relic, have some shrimp etouffee and pecan pie, and come back. It's a milk run, Sam. I don't need a babysitter for that."
At that, Sam sighed. "I'm not asking you to take Cas because I don't trust you."
"Then why are you making such a big damn deal out of it?"
Sam fell quiet. It was clear he was trying to choose his words carefully. He only ever did that when he knew what he was about to say would piss Dean off.
Eileen, however, had no such filter, and said, "You two haven't been on speaking terms since he came back from the Empty." She signed as she talked, a habit she'd gotten into ever since Sam started taking ASL classes.
He got up from his seat and was about to leave the library when Sam said, "Dean, come on, stop. We're trying to help."
Dean turned on his heel and glared at both of them. "There's nothing wrong between me and Cas."
Which wasn't true. Everything was wrong between them. When Cas came back from the Empty, it had knocked the wind out of Dean's lungs. He was happy to see him, of course. He'd pulled Cas into a crushing hug, and Dean was on the verge of tears as he held the angel. But then those words came back to him. I love you. Cas's declaration of love was a deathbed confession. Suddenly, it didn't feel right to hold him when those words hung between them. So Dean had let Cas go.
Now that Dean thought about it, he hadn't spoken to Cas much. Or even been alone with him once in the month since he'd returned. If Cas walked into a room, Dean would leave. If they were on a case, Dean would pair off with Sam or Eileen. If someone suggested he pair off with Cas, Dean would find an excuse to either change the teams or go off on his own. Dean thought no one had noticed, but apparently, he was wrong.
"What's going on between you two?" Sam asked.
"Nothing," Dean insisted.
Sam raised an eyebrow, and Eileen did the same. Seeing them so in sync was making his chest feel tight.
"Look, just… It's fine, really. I don't have a problem with Cas."
"Then you won't have a problem going to New Orleans with him," Sam concluded.
Dean rolled his eyes. "For fuck's sake."
"I'm serious. You need backup. We don't know what sort of protection this thing has. Besides, it would be good for Cas to get out of the Bunker for a while."
That was true. Since his return, Cas spent most of his time in his room. Oh sure, he'd come on the occasional hunt, but he'd go, he'd kick some demon ass, then go back to his room. Dean idly wondered what Cas did in there all day. He was an angel, so he didn't sleep. He thought maybe he was watching TV but when Dean would walk past Cas's door he didn't hear anything.
"He's fine," Dean said. "I'm fine," another lie. "Everything's fine."
"If it's so fine, then you shouldn't have a problem taking him with you," Eileen countered.
Damn it, she had him. And she knew it, too, she was smirking at him.
Dean groaned. "Fine! If it'll get you both off my back, I'll take him with me."
"Good," said Sam.
He and Eileen got up, Eileen walked around the table until she and Sam were next to each other. She took his hand, and he gently squeezed hers back. It was such a subtle gesture of intimacy between the two of them. Dean wasn't sure if he was happy for them or envied them. Then they left the library. Probably headed to their room to gossip about Dean and Cas.
Well, if he was being forced into this, he'd better tell Cas what was up. The thought alone made Dean feel as though he'd swallowed a brick. He glanced down the hallway that led to the bedrooms. Could he do it? Just walk up to the door of Cas's fortress of solitude? He could see it in his mind's eye, how it would have gone before the Empty. Dean would barge in, tell him they had a case, then they'd shoot the shit for a while.
Dean shook his head. He couldn't do this right now. So he went to the kitchen instead. A late-night snack wouldn't go awry, and he knew there was one slice of apple pie from the diner in Lebanon in the fridge. He'd have his pie, maybe a beer or two, then he'd talk to Cas. He wasn't afraid of the angel, how could he be? But these days, it was so hard to talk to him.
What did you say to the person you considered your best friend when he died for you? It wasn't even the first time Cas had done so. He'd been up on the chopping block so often it felt like a cosmic joke. In truth, it wasn't that Cas died. It had happened before, and each time it became more devastating. It was what Cas said. Cas loved him. Cas loved Dean! It didn't seem possible.
At first, Dean thought it was that angelic love for all humanity. That was a lie. Most angels in Dean's experience tolerated humans at best and hated them at worst. Those who liked humans didn't tend to last long, at least not in Dean's experience. He could count those angels on one hand, and every single one of them was dead.
And maybe it did start out that way for Cas. Dean still remembered when they sat together in the park together. It was after he and Sam failed to stop Samhain from rising. Cas spoke of his love for humanity in a hushed tone, as though afraid to be overheard. His confession wasn't like that. It was raw, fraught with emotion, and oh so very Cas. The most human angel Dean had ever met.
His thoughts were interrupted when he stepped into the kitchen and saw Cas seated at the table. He held a beer bottle in his hands, though it wasn't open. It was more like Cas was trying to figure out what it was and how it worked. Something he did often in his early days on Earth. When Cas looked up at him, Dean stopped in his tracks.
"Uh… We got a case," Dean said dumbly.
Cas didn't say anything, but the quirk of his eyebrow told Dean he was curious.
"Well, not really a case, more like an errand. Rowena wants us to run down to New Orleans and get something out of a cemetery chapel for her. Seems to think it'll cause a lot of problems."
"I see. How long will you be gone?"
Cas's voice sounded rough, as though he hadn't spoken in weeks. Maybe he hadn't. Dean couldn't remember him saying so much as a word to him since he'd gotten back. He also couldn't help noticing that Cas's eyes went back to the beer bottle. Like he couldn't look Dean in the face.
"Uh, well…" Dean hesitated. He could lie, Cas didn't have to know Sam was insisting they team up. He could wait until Sam and Eileen left for San Francisco, then take off for New Orleans. They'd be none the wiser. He wouldn't be stuck in the Impala with Cas for several awkward hours.
But he paused.
Cas looked awful. Not physically, of course. In that department, he looked better than ever. Jack had done a great job bringing him back in one piece. But he hadn't looked so miserable since Chuck killed Jack. Not even when Dean snapped at Cas after Rowena's death and Cas left. There'd still been some spark of life in him. Something that would have kept him moving forward.
"Are you okay?" Dean blurted out.
He tilted his head to the side, almost like his old self again. "Yes. Why?"
"You just…" He trailed off. "Forget it. You're coming with me."
He blinked. "I am?" Relief bloomed on Cas's face. Though it vanished as swiftly as it appeared.
"Uh, yeah. I mean, Sam says a second pair of hands might help."
The relief died almost as quickly as it had come. Cas looked down at the beer in his hand and said, "Oh."
They stayed like that for several moments, like Medusa's gaze in reverse. Both of them were frozen in place due to their inability to look at each other.
Dean cleared his throat. "So, uh, that's it. I'll see you in the morning."
He turned around and left the kitchen. He thought Cas might have said something, but he was too chicken shit to turn around and ask him to say it again.
The drive down to New Orleans was awkward, to say the least. They settled into an uneasy silence, though it was never truly quiet in the Impala. Between the road noise and the sound of the engine itself, you'd never get a quiet drive out of Baby. Dean did try to start a conversation once or twice. But Cas gave short but polite answers and spent most of the time staring out the window.
If Dean were a different person, he might have asked Cas what was wrong. But he was Dean Winchester, and he didn't talk about feelings. At least not until he was forced to.
By the time they were in the home stretch, it was late afternoon. They'd been on the road since 4AM and they'd been lucky to miss a lot of the commuter traffic in Baton Rouge. As they rolled through Kenner, Dean said, "So, way I see it, we have two options." He glanced over at Cas, who still stared out the window.
When he didn't get a response, he continued. "We can either hit up the cemetery, get what we came for, and go home. Or we can hit up the cemetery, get what we need, and stay overnight. What do you think?"
Cas slowly turned his head to look at Dean. There was a trace of concern on his face as he asked, "Won't you need to rest?"
He shrugged. "I've done tighter runs. But if I start getting tired we can pull off the highway somewhere."
"You've driven all day."
Which was true. Dean ached all over from being behind the wheel for so long. Sure he loved his Baby, and there was nothing like driving her on the open road. But Dean wasn't as young as he once was. He couldn't travel quite as long a stretch as he used to. And lately, he did need a little more than his usual four hours of sleep.
"So is that a vote for staying overnight?"
"I think it would be wise."
"Okay, motel it is."
Then Cas turned back to the window and didn't say anymore.
Once in New Orleans proper, they pulled off the highway and went to a coffee stand. It was in the cemetery district named Morning Call so he could use the restroom. Once he did his business, they grabbed a table and ordered some red beans and rice since it was the Monday special. While he was ordering, Dean saw a pamphlet for the St. Roch cemetery by the counter. He swiped it in the hopes it had some useful information.
They'd have to wait for it to get dark before they could enact their plan. It would have made their job a hell of a lot easier if their destination were in the cemetery district. However, as New Orleans was an old city, there were bone orchards littered throughout. And St. Roch, the one they wanted, was some distance away.
If the car ride was awkward, sitting in the coffee shop was straight-up uncomfortable. Dean ate his food, while Cas simply sat there and looked as though he'd rather be anywhere else.
"What's wrong?" Dean asked.
Cas glanced over at him briefly, then looked out the cafe window. "Nothing."
"Something's eatin' you. You've been freakishly quiet the whole trip."
"I spoke."
Dean snorted. "Yeah, I know that. But is something going on with you? You seem…" He trailed off.
"I'm well, that's all you need to concern yourself with." He didn't say it angrily or sadly, actually, he sounded more tired than anything. Then Cas stood up. "I'll be in the car." And with that, he walked out of the coffee shop.
He sighed, opened the pamphlet, and demolished his food. There, now he could tell Sam he tried. But Cas didn't wanna talk and Dean wasn't about to make him. In the meantime, he'd learn about the cemetery and hope they could get the hell out of there as soon as possible. When he finished eating, he ordered some coffee to go. It was going to be a long night and he wouldn't get through it without caffeine.
When Dean got back in the Impala, it was to see Cas slipping his phone into his pocket.
"Something up?" Dean asked.
"It was Sam," Cas replied. "He says the object Rowena is looking for is in the devotional room in the cemetery's chapel."
Dean opened the pamphlet again and said, "Yeah they talk about how there's a room off the side of the main chapel. It's where 'objects of faith' are stored and visitors can gawk at them."
Cas nodded. "It'll be there."
"Great."
Dean then offered one of the coffee cups to Cas.
He stared at it for a moment, then quietly thanked Dean and took it.
Once again, silence enveloped them. There was so much between them, said and unsaid. Dean was beginning to regret not following his original plan. But how could he leave Cas in the Bunker alone? He'd looked so hurt, and while Dean didn't like feelings he could understand them. Though, he did wonder why the hell Cas had this air of mourning ever since he'd come back from the Empty.
There wasn't much conversation after that. Dean stewed, Cas brooded, and the awkwardness was back with a vengeance. Dean did at least try to start a conversation a few times. But Cas was back to one-word answers or ignoring him entirely. It got so uncomfortable that by the time the sun was down Dean was thankful it was time to get to work.
They took the highway again, through City Park to the other side of town. They passed a park, a community church, and more craftsman houses than you could count on one hand. Dean never thought much of architecture, but he'd always liked that style of house. Back when he thought he might retire from hunting, he wanted to settle into one himself. Of course that wasn't going to happen now.
Dean decided to park near the community church, and then he and Cas got out of the car and crossed the street. However, they paused.
"Wait a sec," Dean said, looking from one block to the next. "There's two of 'em."
Indeed, there were two walled-off cemeteries. They looked pretty damn identical to Dean.
Cas however kept walking and said, "It's this one."
Dean jogged to catch up and asked, "How do you know?"
"Sam said it was St. Roch #1. That's this one."
"Yeah but how do you know?"
"I just do."
He chuckled. "You got your angel mojo back?"
Cas shrugged.
Getting into the cemetery wasn't easy. The gates were cast iron with a lot of pointy ends, and the walls were taller and thicker than Dean expected. Still, he and Cas were able to get in without setting off any alarms or summoning the police. Once inside, they followed the main path to the chapel.
The cemetery reminded Dean of a city. The tombs looked like stone houses, at least in the dark. Everything was so uniform it was a bit creepy. Once or twice he saw something out of the corner of his eye. When he turned his head to look it usually turned out to be flowers on tombs. Or in one case, a stone angel.
They reached the chapel, and to Dean's surprise, the door was open.
"Huh… Think it's a trap?" He asked Cas.
Cas didn't reply, he simply pushed the door open and walked in.
Once inside the chapel, they headed to the side chamber. It was small, and while there was a window, someone had taped paper over it to keep most of the light out. He could tell the room was cluttered, but he couldn't actually see much. Dean took his flashlight out of his jacket pocket and turned it on.
"Holy shit," he whispered.
There were porcelain hands, rubber feet, and leg braces that reminded Dean of Forrest Gump. If there was a prosthetic body part, there was at least one jammed into the little room. The musty smell of rotting leather and centuries of dust turned Dean's stomach. The room was gruesome, and a little sad.
"Did Sam say what we're looking for?" Dean asked.
"No. Only that it's here in the chapel's devotional room. Rowena says we'll know it when we find it."
"Then why don't we start grabbing stuff? Save ourselves some trouble."
"Because it would draw too much attention to ourselves. We may damage several of these items in transit."
He scoffed. "This stuff's not that old, how bad could it be?"
Dean was only half kidding, but the withering look Cas gave him instantly made him regret his words. He was about to say something to rile him up. Dean figured an angry Cas was better than a depressed one when he heard something click. He looked down to see he'd stepped on a loose brick in the floor. Then there was a loud metallic clank and the door shut behind them. Then an even louder metallic boom, like sheet metal being dropped from above.
They rushed over, and Dean tried to open it, but with no success. It was too damn heavy!
"God dammit!" Dean shouted.
Then Cas gently guided him away and tapped on the door. The wood made a weird sound like it was hitting something. Cas pushed, but even he couldn't budge it.
"We must have triggered a booby trap."
"You think?" He sighed. "Then how the hell do we get out?"
"I'm not sure. But we should find the relic and get out of here."
"Great plan."
Cas glared at him but didn't comment. They started looking through the random crap throughout the room. Dean doubted there would be something with "this is the relic you're looking for" carved into it. However, witches, ghosts, and demons did seem to pop up whenever you touched their stuff. Maybe Rowena would show up when they got the right one.
When he found his eighth pair of dentures, Dean recoiled and said, "I don't get it."
Cas was examining a glass eye. "Get what?" He asked.
"Why prosthetics? Like, why not light a candle? Or make a donation?"
"They're offerings of thanks to St. Roch. After they recovered from a serious illness," Cas reminded him.
Dean rolled his eyes. "I know what the pamphlet says, Cas. But like I'm pretty sure folks still needed some of this stuff. Being cured of yellow fever doesn't mean you suddenly no longer need your prosthetic foot." He frowned. "I guess you could get a new one, but it's still weird."
Castiel paused as he ran his fingers over a doll that was hanging on the wall. It was newer, probably from the early aughts. Dean thought Cas wouldn't answer. Then Cas turned his back on Dean, and his voice was low and quiet as he talked.
"It's a sign of their faith. They believed their suffering would repay God for their miraculous cures. It would show their gratitude, that their lives were spared by his grace. It's common in Catholicism and some branches of Christianity. They believe that suffering and pain are the ultimate sacrifice. A gesture of their absolute devotion," said Cas. His voice was so mournful it made Dean's heart ache to hear it.
He desperately wished there was something he could do to help. Ever since Cas returned from the Empty, misery clung to him like the trench coat he always wore. And truthfully, that was why Dean avoided him. He'd ruined Cas. He'd taken him from an angel of the lord, leader of his own garrison, one of God's warriors, and reduced him to this. An errand boy for him and Sam.
"I'm sorry," Dean said.
Cas raised an eyebrow.
"I'm sorry for everything," he continued. "For you getting carted off to the Empty. For purgatory, both times I kicked you out, every time I pushed you away, and for everything really. I know I haven't been much better since you got back. So, I'm sorry."
As Dean talked, Cas stepped closer to him. The low light of the flashlights made his expression hard to read.
"I'm sorry too," said Cas.
Dean's eyes widened. "For what? I'm the one who's been an ass."
"I'm sorry the only time I felt comfortable telling you the truth was when I was about to die," he replied. "That wasn't fair of me, and I should have apologized when I came back."
He shook his head. "You confessed so the Empty would kill Billie and save my stupid ass. And didn't you say if you felt any true happiness the Empty would have dragged you away?"
"Yes, but if I hadn't made the deal to bring Jack back in the first place that wouldn't have happened. You said no deals, I didn't listen."
"Oh c'mon, he's your son. Dads do that kinda thing. Mine did."
"Still, it was a terrible thing to do to you. Burden you in such a way. As for my leaving the bunker after Rowena died, I chose to leave."
"But I–"
"Your mother had just died, Chuck declared war on us, and we lost Rowena. You were hurt and had to take it out on someone. It's in your nature, I know that and I accept it. Better me than Sam."
Dean shook his head. "That doesn't make it right." His stomach roiled with disgust. How could Cas think that?! But then again, when had Dean ever tried to do better by Cas? Or Sam?
Cas shrugged. "None of us are perfect. We all have our flaws."
Dean sighed and glanced down at his boots. He wanted to ask. He had to. So he looked up and gassed into Cas's eyes. His resolve strengthened at the sight of those deep blue eyes.
"Were you ever going to tell me you were in love with me?"
He frowned. "The Empty–"
"I mean if there were no deal. If our lives were somewhat normal. Would you have said anything?"
The angel fell silent. Normally, that would be where Dean would try to browbeat him into an answer. Or he would say "Forget it" and pretend the conversation never happened. Not this time. This time, Dean needed to know.
"I'm not sure," he murmured. "Not that it matters."
"What do you mean by that?"
He gave Dean a look, one that seemed to be both scornful and pleading. "I'm in a male vessel, Dean." Cas spoke in such a matter-of-fact tone. There was an undercurrent of sorrow that cleaved Dean's heart in two. "I may be new to the intricacies of human sexuality. But I am aware of what sexual preference is. You prefer women, and I am not a woman."
"I–"
Cas cut him off. "You've not once taken an interest in me in a sexual manner. That is why I said my feelings don't matter."
Dean racked his brain for the right words. How did he tell Cas he was wrong? How did he tell him there'd been more than one late-night Dean fantasized about kissing him? Or that he buried his attraction to men? So deep, sometimes Dean himself almost believed he was straight?
Cas seemed to be satisfied he'd made his point. He turned away from Dean and said something, but what, he wasn't sure. Panic shot through Dean. Before he could reconsider, he grabbed Cas, spun him around, and kissed him right on the lips.
It wasn't Dean's best kiss, at least when it came to technical skill. But it did make his heart skip a beat. Cas froze in place, hands at his sides as though he were afraid to touch Dean. It didn't last. Suddenly, Cas gripped Dean's shirt, pulled him closer, and kissed him back. Hard enough to take Dean's breath away.
Then his rough hands were everywhere, as though all Cas ever needed was permission. Dean himself felt as though he'd been waiting for this his entire life. It wasn't just the illicit thrill of making out in a cemetery chapel, though that sure didn't hurt. This was Cas, who'd sacrificed so much for both Dean and his brother. Who'd become part of their family. Long before Dean ever identified the feelings he had for the angel of the lord, weren't as pure as the driven snow.
Dean broke the kiss with a gasp. Then he sighed and said, "I'm sorry. I should have done that a long time ago."
Cas was about to reply when suddenly there was a strange red glow in the room. They turned to see a porcelain plaque on the wall. It was a red heart with thorns around it and fire coming out of the top. The glow increased, then flashed so bright Dean was temporarily blinded. He rubbed at his eyes and then looked at Cas.
"Reckon that's the relic?" Dean asked.
In response, Cas went to the wall with his hand held out. He could see the shine of celestial energy that Cas's palm emitted. Then the red glow stopped. Cas picked up the plaque and said, "This is it."
There was another metallic groan, longer this time, and the door swung open. Cas approached with the relic in his hand and stuck his head out.
"Oh, I didn't see that before."
"What?"
Dean followed him out and looked up.
Someone had rigged a giant metal slab of a door over the entrance to the devotional room. Now that Dean's eyes adjusted to the dim light of the chapel. He could see the door and the machinery was painted to blend in with the wall. It looked pretty new, too. Like it'd just been installed. But why go to all the trouble? A normal security system would have made more sense.
"This all seems very strange," Cas muttered.
"Yeah, kinda Indiana Jones-ish," he agreed. "But come on, let's get going." He headed for the chapel entrance.
"Dean…"
He paused and turned back in the doorway. Uncertainty was written all over Cas's face. Dean marched back and kissed his angel again.
"We're locking that thing in the trunk, then we're gonna find a motel."
Cas raised an eyebrow. "Are we rearranging furniture?"
Dean laughed. "Yeah, among other things. Come on."
His heart was light as he left the cemetery. He'd kissed Cas. And Cas kissed him back! The world didn't end, and Cas already looked better than he had in months. He felt high. No, not high. He felt free. A part of Dean always felt like if he let himself be with Cas, it would ruin him further. Hester's words from so long ago had gotten under his skin. 'The very touch of you corrupts'.
It was something Dean only let himself think about when he was alone. How many people have died because of him? How many died for him? Look how far Cas had fallen because of Dean! Maybe Hester was onto something. It wasn't as though hooking up with Dean had done Anna any favors.
Dean pushed those thoughts away. He was going to enjoy the moment for as long as he could.
They ended up at a place in Mid City Dean vaguely remembered the last time he'd been in New Orleans. The name had been changed to the Drifter Hotel, and someone had taken the time and trouble of cleaning it up. Back in the day, it was a roach trap even Dean second guessed staying at. Now it looked like the kind of place hipsters would hang out. But it was clean, and there was plenty of parking. And there wouldn't be eighty-seven ghost tours going by every hour.
But when they got there, Cas said, "I want to wait."
Dean raised an eyebrow. "What? Why?"
"It doesn't feel right to make love here," he said. "I want to wait until we get home."
He almost blew it off. Maybe used the "it could be our last night on Earth" line, but Dean sighed. Cas had a point. Run-down motels didn't feel like home, and Dean was getting too old to have sex in the Impala. So he shrugged and said, "Fine. Let's go down to the Quarter so I can get some etouffee. I'll get my four hours and we can head home in the morning. How's that sound?"
"Heavenly." Then Cas smiled. No, not smiled, he grinned. The kind that would light up his face and make the edges of his eyes crinkle. Dean grinned back, and then he laughed. Which got Cas laughing, and once they both started they couldn't stop. It was the full belly, lungs aching, an almost hysterical kind of laughter.
Once they recovered, Cas pulled Dean into another kiss.
Everything was right with the world, at last.
They headed back around four in the morning. It was a fun night. They'd gone to the French Quarter. Dean got his shrimp etouffee from a hole-in-the-wall joint. They even had pecan pie. The waitress said he was lucky because it always sold out fast. He smiled. Dean sure was.
When they arrived back at the bunker, Dean was pretty pleased with himself. Though he was surprised to see Sam and Eileen there. It was a much longer trip from Lebanon to San Francisco.
"You guys fly back?" Dean asked as he came in.
"We never left," Sam said.
He frowned. "Sam, we still owe Rowena! If you don't–"
But he stopped when he saw Eileen and Sam exchange looks. Like they were doing their best to keep from laughing.
"What?"
"Uh, well, you see…" Sam trailed off.
Cas raised an eyebrow, the relic still in his hand.
Before Dean could ask what the hell was wrong with Sam, Rowena came strolling into the library.
"Let me handle this, Samuel."
"Yup, you got it," and then he and Eileen jumped up and dashed out of the room.
Rowena smiled up at them. "Hello, boys."
"Rowena," Cas greeted.
"What the hell's going on?" Dean asked, not interested in the preamble.
"Samuel told me you and your handsome angel weren't on speaking terms yet again. So I thought I might help you along."
He didn't know if he should be angry or not, so he asked, "What did you do?"
Rowena held her hand out to Castiel. "May I see that, please?"
Cas handed her the relic.
She smiled and ran her fingers over the red heart. "You know what this is?"
"No."
Without missing a beat, Rowena threw the relic on the ground, and it smashed into pieces. A red mist came from the wreckage, and Dean stepped in front of Cas instinctively. Cas shot him an exasperated look but didn't move away. Once the mist dissipated, Dean saw there was a crumpled piece of cloth on the ground. Rowena picked it up and opened it.
It looked newer than Dean expected, though truthfully he couldn't guess the age. Embroidered on the fabric were flowers. Dean was growing more confused by the minute.
"Lovely needlework, don't you think?" She asked as she showed it to them. She pointed at each flower and explained. "Columbines for foolishness. Wild roses for pleasure and pain. Red carnations for an aching heart. And heliotrope for eternal love and devotion."
"You made this?" Cas said.
Dean glanced at him, then back at Rowena.
"I did, for you two."
He frowned. "You cast a spell on us?"
Rowena looked as though she wanted very much to roll her eyes. But she refrained and said, "Of course not. The spell was on the plaque. Once you unburdened yourselves, it released you from the chapel."
That was why the machinery looked so new, and why they hadn't noticed it. It wasn't a security system, it was some stupid trap cooked up by Rowena. Dean's thoughts were going a mile a minute, and he didn't know if he wanted to punch her or hug her.
"You sent us on a wild goose chase," said Cas. "Why?"
"So you'd talk to each other, of course. You only seem to be able to communicate when your lives are in peril."
He wanted to wipe that smug smirk off her face, or at the very least scream at her. The tension in Cas's jaw said he wasn't happy either. He was about to open his mouth again when Rowena held up her hand.
"Before either of you start, did you have any intention of talking things out? And don't lie, I'll know."
Dean crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't answer, because he knew what the answer was. Absolutely not. He'd have let it go until something boiled over. Cas glanced at him, and Dean knew he was in the same boat.
"I thought not. Now, I'm sure you have plenty to work out, so I'll be taking my leave. Enjoy yourselves."
And with that, Rowena was gone.
"One of these days I'm gonna–"
"Forget it, Dean," said Cas. "She did us a favor."
He sighed and chuckled softly. "Yeah, I guess she did. But I do have to get back at Sam for setting us up."
"Perhaps another time."
Dean pulled Cas close, and as their lips met in a nerve-searing kiss, his heart took flight.
He was happier than he'd ever been. Even if he was still annoyed with his little brother and the queen of hell.