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It's been a long week - two hunts, one of them involving demons, the other involving angels - and Sam and Dean are tired. Castiel isn't tired so much as rumpled and bloody, but he's as obviously in need of a break as they are. So when Castiel sits down beside a duck and starts quacking at it, Dean figures, ok their angel buddy has lost his feathery mind.
Dean looks around. It's a cold, Tuesday morning, so the park isn't heavily populated. A mother of two toddlers gapes at them with primal horror stamped on her face and bodily drags her children away, to the opposite side of the playground.
Dean hunkers down beside the angel, who, judging by the wide smile, dimples and freaking crinkles at the corners of his eyes, is having the happiest conversation of his life. With a duck. "Cas, what are you doing man?"
Castiel just waves him off and keeps quacking to the duck, who's waddled to within a foot of him.
"What the hell, dude." Sam whispers. He watches their six, trying to smile reassuringly at passing joggers. He looks nervous, and possibly nauseous, more than reassuring, but he's trying. Dean's feeling a little nervous himself. That duck could be evil. It could be possessed. And not by something good.
"I don't know man, maybe... maybe he's gone off the reservation?"
"We have a crazy angel. Talking to a duck," Sam says. "I didn't think our lives could get weirder. I see now that I jinxed us by thinking that."
"This is God," Castiel says sunnily.
"Oh my God," Sam and Dean say together. Dean shoots his brother an annoyed look - they don't need to be even more jinxed.
"Yes, exactly." Castiel seems utterly satisfied with their response. Like, weirdly and completely satisfied. The kind of satisfaction that Dean has only known once (Ribfest '06, hot little waitress in even hotter pants. All you can eat ribs. All you can drink beer). It's kind of creepy.
It gets creepier when the duck - he swears - nods at Castiel, then hops up on his knee. Castiel's hand hovers over the duck's head. The duck quacks, sounding almost impatient with him, then Castiel visibly gives in, and pets it. Castiel instantly starts humming in pleasure.
"God is a duck?" Sam asks quietly. It's almost rhetorical, like he can't even believe he's asking the question. The contorted, undecided expression on his face backs that up. "You're sure this isn't Gabriel, doing what Gabriel does?"
"No," Castiel says, and he's downright pissy, if you ask Dean. "I know my Father."
"He's right," says Gabriel.
Startled, Sam squeals, flails, and then bumps into Dean, who falls over, Sam on top of him. In that specific order. Dean's going to remember this one. Dean pushes his sasquatch of a brother off, even while Sam is trying to climb free - between the two of them it's a full minute before they're untangled, and by that time Gabriel has sat down beside Castiel.
"Where the hell did you come from?" asks Dean, a little breathlessly. Not that he'd admit it. Gabriel ignores them, in favour of staring at Castiel's knee, just to the left of the duck's feet.
"Quack, quack, quack," Gabriel says mournfully. And softly. Tentatively. Sounding, for all the world, like a guilty son, fessing up to his duck of a father.
Castiel lays a hand on his brother's shoulder. It looks... like he's trying to reassure his older brother. Like Sammy's done a million times for Dean, or Dean has, for Sammy. It's a strangely familial gesture, for such a screwed up bunch of angels. For a family that's been trying to kill each other, and had actually succeeded in killing Castiel.
The duck bobs his head. Benevolently, if Dean isn't seeing things. Maybe, he thinks, the duck is an evil shapeshifter. One who happens to be particularly good at fooling angels. The obvious daddy issues probably helped things along.
Gabriel smiles, and it's the first time Dean's seen something like pure joy in him. The Winchesters have seen happy, angry, nasty, dopey and sleepy (ok, not sleepy). But joyous? This is the Trickster. This is Gabriel. The little archangel who couldn't, and so ran away to play dolls with humans for millenia. The guy who thought it was funny to kill Dean a hundred times over. And now he was smiling like someone had slipped prozac into his Count Chocula, and then invited him to a finger painting session.
"Sam," Dean whispers. He turns to find Sam staring at him, with as much confusion, fear and freaked-out-ed-ness as Dean himself is feeling. "What the hell?"
"I..." Sam says.
"What. The. Hell."
Then Castiel smiles too, and it's just two blissed out angels, smiling down at a duck.
Dean will never admit to this, not even if pressed, but right then, he shifts closer to his brother and tugs at the sleeve of his jacket. Strictly speaking, he doesn't need to get any closer to Sammy. Also strictly speaking, he isn't scared. Just--
"Is this the weirdest thing that's happened to us, or the weirdest fucking thing that's happened to us?" hisses Dean.
"I'm not entirely sure this is happening to us," Sam mutters. "Why a duck?"
"Why not a duck?" Gabriel says dreamily. "They are some of God's most beautiful creations."
"Really," Dean says doubtfully.
"They sound like they're high," says Sam.
In the midst of a particularly long and heated round of quacking, (wherein Sam and Dean stand around hoping that: a) no one happens to walk by and stumble on this scene of human-avian bonding; and b) no one thinks that the Winchesters are with Team Ducks and Angels), Gabriel's previously blinding smile dims. Then it morphs into an expression they're more used to seeing on him, something between a pout and frown. It's actually, Dean reflects, so much like Sammy's bitchface #3 that they might have been separated at birth. The expressions, he means.
"Brother," Castiel says. "Jealousy is sinful."
"I'm not jealous!" Gabriel says, a hint of desperation in his voice. Well, voice is maybe letting him off easy, because it sounds like a girlish shriek, to be honest. Also, kind of like Sammy, when he was busy denying his deeply, girlish nature.
Castiel quacks at the God-duck, a quick series of clucks, quacks and other strange noises. Gabriel meanwhile, pouts. The duck shifts its wings, bobs its head, and lifts its left foot. Castiel turns back to Gabriel. "You see, brother. He loves all of his children."
"But he loves some of them a bit more than the others, doesn't he?" Gabriel says angrily. Then it's like he catches himself. His mouth works silently, and he shoots guilty looks down at the duck. Dean knows that feeling - he's been there himself, having said things to his own dad, that he knew were a bad idea, were over the line, and--
And Gabriel is saying all of this to a damn duck!
"I mean... I didn't..." Gabriel trails off uncertainly, and bows his head.
Finally, after a long moment of silence, the duck quacks reassuringly. Gabriel looks up, hopeful, chastened, and maybe a little joyful again. Dean isn't some great reader of people - it's more that the emotions flicker across Gabriel's features without being filtered, or controlled in any way. Like Gabriel is past caring what anyone thinks of him - like he's overcome. Or high.
Gabriel turns to Castiel. Sighs. "I'm sorry, Cas. I shouldn't have snapped at you. You kept your faith. Of course you'll be more favoured than... the rest of us."
The - admittedly adorable - duck jumps from Castiel's lap, waddles over to Gabriel's knee, and-- damn if it doesn't nuzzle him. Then Castiel--
"I don't think we should be watching this." Sam says, grabbing Dean's arm desperately.
"Oh come on, just when it was getting disturbingly interesting..."
"Dean, this is heavenly family time. I just, oh my god." Castiel is all but petting Gabriel's hair.
Dean and Sam start to edge away, without turning their backs on the cuddling angels - seriously? cuddling angels? - and are almost to the sandbox, when Castiel calls out to them.
"Sam, Dean, no!" says Castiel, lifting his face from where it had been buried against Gabriel's neck. "Please, our Father would speak with you."
"You want us to talk to the duck."
"Yes."
"To the duck."
"Yes, Dean."
"Cas," Dean pauses. Rubs his hand over his face. "You want us to talk to a freaking duck. We don't speak duck."
"That is hardly a barrier for me, Dean," says the duck.
Dean jumps (a small, manly jump), flailing in midair. He's slightly comforted by the thought that Sam can't blame him. Sam's reaction, curling in on himself and whimpering, is hardly manlier.
The duck waddles over to them. "Do not be alarmed, my children."
Dean clutches Sam's arm. "The duck doesn't want us to be alarmed, Sam." Sam clutches back. Then the world goes sideways.
The duck burns brighter than the sun, if the sun were ten feet away, yet somehow it doesn't hurt. Instead it feels good - it feels impossibly like light, love, home. Everything around the duck changes too. The grass is a brighter green than human eyes should be capable of processing, and it's not just grass, Dean can see everything that lives in the grass and the ground. He can see... light, the whole rainbow and beyond, everywhere like - and he is so very, very loathe to admit this - auras.
"Dean," Castiel says. Dean doesn't want to look up, because he's seen the evidence of what an angel's true from can do to a comparatively fragile human one, but he's just seen god, in the shape of a duck, so what the hell. He chances it.
Castiel is--
A star, is the closest word he can find. And Gabriel, sitting on the other side of the duck-god, is even brighter. Or deeper maybe - he's a looming sense of power and will, more than anything else.
"It's alright, my son," says the duck. So Dean looks at it again, and this time is caught in its gaze, and he's falling, falling, falling.
When he wakes up, he's lying on the grass beside his also prone brother. "Sammy?"
Sam groans. "What happened?"
"We saw Duck."
"What?" Sam sits up, and rubs his eyes.
"We saw Duck, and he's a god."
"You mean we saw God, and he's a duck" Sam says.
"Whatever." Dean looks around them. The world is normal again, except it's missing two angels and Duck. So either they mass-hallucinated a duck-god, or they just got whammied and ditched. "Where'd they go?"
"By the pond," says an ominous voice. It's a voice that has unfriendly associations, as far as Dean is concerned. So he scrambles to his feet, and Sam does the same. Raphael stands behind them, looking longingly towards the duck pond.
"Uh, thanks?" Sam says uncertainly. He's as tense as Dean is, waiting for the smitiest of the archangels to do something. Finally, Raphael heaves a truly epic sigh, pushes the brothers to the sides like they're so much tissue, and heads down to the pond, where Castiel, Gabriel and god are frolicking.
Frolicking. Jesus. Oh shi- Go- Damm-
Fudge, Dean thinks.
"Please tell me there's a park-wide whammy in effect," Dean says. "Because this is not family friendly."
"I don't know, Dean. I mean, they're not doing anything."
"They're playing naked tag with a duck," he growls. "That action is not PG."
"Yeah but it's not..." Sam tilts his head to one side, then the other. He squints, scrunches his nose, and stares. "It's not like it's sexual."
"Why are we even having this conversation? How is this," Dean waves his arms wildly. "Our lives?"
Then, out of nowhere, Sam smacks him. Dean will always maintain that this is unjustified, because he is not freaking out. Nor is he having, "An hysterical episode," like Sam says. He sputters at Sam, but his brother just tells him to shut up.
"We need to get down there. Cas is there." And Raphael is slowly making his way down to the pond. Raphael, the archangel who exploded Castiel into thousands of tiny Castiel pieces.
Along with Gabriel, someone Dean doesn't trust as far as he can throw him. And ok, God, in the form of a duck, but he wouldn't be a Winchester if that was good enough for him. He and Sam exchange a look, one that says all kinds of things, but primarily this: sure they don't have anything like a useful weapon, or a good plan, but Castiel is their friend. Then they rush down to the pond after Raphael.
"Cas! Castiel" They both yell.
Castiel comes up out of the water, laughing and extremely naked, and turns to them. He's smiling, crazy happy, and Dean can see the unnatural blue of his eyes from thirty feet away - he's pretty much glowing with joy. Then he sees Raphael. His smile collapses into a frown, and the whole freaky glowing thing blinks out. For about three seconds. Then the duck swims up beside him, pokes Castiel's thigh with its beaks, and the glow blinks back on, like God just hit a light switch.
It hits him all over again. God is a duck.
Dean keeps running anyway.
Raphael drops to his knees, at the edge of the pond, the Winchesters only steps behind. They skid to a halt behind him, flanking him, without really thinking about it.
"Father," Raphael says. He bows his head, and waits.
The two naked angels watch the duck. Since it's the only thing moving, Dean figures he might as well do the same.
The duck - God, his head reminds him; God in duck form; duck-god; his Holy Duckitude - swims to Raphael, then waddles through the shallows to his knees. Raphael holds still.
It honks at him.
Raphael raises his head and--
Raphael is crying. The duck has climbed into his lap so that Raphael can pet it, and shake, and have the biggest damn Oprah-style cleansing cry that Dean has ever seen. Castiel and Gabriel fall to their knees on either side of him, and wrap their naked bodies around him.
"I can't take much more of this," Dean wails.
"I..." Sam says. "Yeah."
"If he starts getting naked, I swear..." Sam nods. Heartily. Dean feels safe in categorizing it as a hearty nod. So then, of course, Raphael does start to get naked, beginning with his boots and socks.
Sam and Dean turn away, because they have a sense of modesty, even if angels don't. Only to come face to face with their absolute favourite angel, Zachariah. Dean instantly goes tense, and he can practically feel Sammy doing the same. He braces himself for anything: time travel, torture, or just the usual snide comments. But none of that happens.
Zachariah stares through them, like they're invisible.
Run, Sam mouths at him. Dean shakes his head. Duck God has a proven track record of being the best kind of crack for angels, and there is no way he's out and out running away from this asshole. He nods to his right, well out of the way of the family reunion. Sam follows him, darting past Zachariah who's still frozen, on the lawn, watching his brother angels platonically fondle each other.
Zachariah takes two shaky steps forward. A sharp quack from the duck stops him. The duck raises its bill, imperiously.
"Father, I- You were gone." Zachariah quails under the unwavering stare of the duck. After a moment so awkward it could rip a hole in the fabric of spacetime, he starts to sink uncertainly to his knees. "I did what I thought was best," he says, and then bows his head.
Dean shouldn't say anything. He really shouldn't. Duck is here, and so far he's handled his kids pretty well, but this is Zachariah, the angel who gripped him tight and flung him into a future where his brother gave it up to Lucifer. The angel who magicked away his lungs for shits and giggles. And Dean wouldn't be Dean if he let that bullshit slide.
"What you thought was best? Well, I've got news for you, Chuckles - your best is pretty damn sad."
"Dean!" Sam whispers loudly. But the duck, rather than ruffling its feathers, just bobs its beak. Dean takes that as a signal of his support. Dear Duck, he hopes its support, because his brain-mouth connection seems to be on the fritz and there is no way he's stopping now.
"Duck's away and the angel's will play?" Dean takes a step forward, and would have taken a few more, if Sam didn't stop him with a meaty paw on his arm. "We are not your chess pieces."
Zachariah twists to glare at him, but doesn't get up. Damn right he kneels in the presence of Duck. Never mind that neither of the Winchesters were kneeling. Duck didn't seem to have a problem with it. "This is none of your concern, you disgusting-"
"QUACK!" says the duck. It's the loudest quack Dean has ever heard. It's like he feels it, in his bones, as well as hears it. His hands are halfway to his ears before he even thinks about it, the quack thundering all around him. But as quickly as it hits him, it's over. When he opens his eyes - when had he closed them? - Zachariah is gone.
"What happened?" Dean asks, stunned.
"Dude," Sam says, pointing to--
"Oh, no way."
"Way," Gabriel says with a smirk. He steps out of the pond and all but saunters over to where Zachariah had knelt. Dean very carefully avoids looking at any of his naked angel parts. Gabriel toes what's left of Zachariah - a pale blue egg, about a hand and a half high. "Cheer up brother, it's not forever."
"Just a millenium or six," Raphael adds. The archangels exchange near-identical smirks, and yeah, Dean feels vindicated once again - angels are dicks.
Although not all of them.
Duck moves off to swim in widening circles, while the archangels whisper sweet nothings at Zachari-egg. Castiel meanwhile, comes over to stand with the brothers. Still naked.
"What'll happen to them?" Sam asks.
"Our Father has commanded that all of the host return to heaven. Zachariah will be placed under Raphael and Gabriel's guard." Cas doesn't even bother to hide his satisfied smirk. That's my boy, Dean thinks fondly.
"So that's it," Sam says. "Everything's forgiven?"
"No." Cas frowns. "There will be many changes in heaven."
"Duck's pushing through a reform bill?"
"That's a poor analogy, Dean. Our Father has no need of the host's approval."
"The will of Duck is absolute?"
Castiel smiles widely. "Yes." Dean finds himself smiling back. Cas is just too sunny for anyone's good, and behind him, freaking God is playing with a piece of driftwood and splashing around in the pond. Dean is starting to feel a little sunny himself.
"But what about Lucifer?" Sam asks anxiously. " I mean, I don't doubt Duck--God-- Your Father, but-"
"He will be dealt with," says a new voice. Sam and Dean both look around for the speaker but aside from the archangels (who are still poking the egg), and a blazingly happy Castiel, it's just the Winchesters and the birds.
"Down here!" They look down. There's a lolcat-worthy duckling standing near their boots. Maybe it's the gleam in its eye, or the way its feathers are puffed up, but the duckling looks fierce.
"Hello brother," Castiel says.
"Castiel," says the duckling. He bobs its head and Cas immediately crouches and holds out his hand. The duckling hops into his palm. He spreads his tiny wings for balance, while Cas moves him up onto his shoulder. "Winchesters." The duckling nods at them.
Sam frowns his thinking frown and then guesses, "Michael?"
"Yes, Sam."
"I thought-"
"That I needed a vessel in order to appear to you on this plane?" Sam nods. Dean too, for good measure. "That is true for angels and even archangels, but no such rules exist for Our Father."
"Mysterious ways, huh," Dean says.
"Yes," Michael agrees. "Lucifer will be dealt with swiftly and then the host will return to heaven." Michael moves his beak close to Castiel's ear and then proceeds to quack-whisper at him. Castiel quacks back, at first defiant and then resigned.
Michael quacks one last time, then hops off of Castiel's shoulder. It's a drop of over five feet and Dean actually has to stop himself from rushing forward to check on him. Michael is... a disturbingly cute duckling.
"What was that all about?"
"We are leaving Dean."
"Yeah, I got that much. Big showdown to get to - which, by the way, are we still invited to?"
"No. For your own safety, you must... sit this one out." Dean is completely ready to protest that no Winchester worth his guns would sit out the freaking apocalypse, not after everything, but Castiel frowns him into shutting up. Dean lets him get away with it, this once. "With Our Father on earth it will be over quickly. There is no need for you to risk yourselves."
"Or for us to distract you guys," Sam adds. Castiel nods his agreement. "So this is really it?"
"Yes. Michael thought that I would... appreciate a moment to say goodbye."
"Wait." Dean holds up his hands, motioning for Castiel to stop. "Like, goodbye-goodbye? So long, see you never?"
"Yes." Castiel smiles weakly. Wobbily, even. He turns away to look at the entrance of the park. "My brothers and sisters are gathering." And sure enough they are. Hundreds of angels, in vessels or avian form, are materializing in the park. Angels stand on top of the slides and monkey bars. They flock down the jogging path, and waddle through the sandbox. All of them are heading to the pond, where Their Father (and now Dean is doing it too - capitalizing in his own head) is waiting for them. With every passing second, the park gets more and more crowded.
"You should leave," Castiel says. "Please pass my good wishes along to Bobby." He swallows once, hard, and then moves to join his siblings.
"Hey, hey - socially awkward angel," Dean says. He grabs Castiel's arm and holds him. Or rather, Castiel lets him. Dean tugs him back around, so he's facing him and Sam, then ducks his head, trying to catch Castiel's gaze. Stick with the tried and true, he figures. Finally, Castiel looks up and - oh Christ - his eyes are freaking moist. The girliest angel of them all, he thinks fondly. Dean's eyes though, aren't wet at all. If they're stinging, it's because there are so many feathers in the air.
"Say hi to Bobby, have a nice life?" Dean frowns at him.
On Castiel's other side, Sam moves in, and lays a hand on his shoulder. Cas looks from one to the other, with wide eyes. Now, Dean isn't exactly in touch with his emotions, and he is totally not fond of hippie share fests, but Castiel is in a league of his own with this.
"Dude," Dean says. It's the most heartfelt 'dude' of his life, probably.
Sam smiles and for one terrifying second, Dean thinks this moment is going to end in a group hug with his brother and a naked angel. Then Sam simply says, "It's been an honor."
"The honor is mine." Castiel clasps his hands, and bows his head to them for a long moment. Dean gets the feeling that something important and unsaid is going on. Finally, Castiel smiles at them. It's smaller than his duck-inspired grins, but it's just as intense in a way. This is probably speech time. If anything called for a speech, it would be godly intervention in earthly affairs, and Cas leaving for heaven. But Dean is not a speech-giving kind of guy, and neither is Castiel. It's like aggressive dentistry just getting him to say anything, sometimes.
So instead, he holds out his hand. Cas takes it with both of his. Somehow Dean's free hand ends up in there, and they're locked in an extremely manly, two-handed, and seemingly never-ending handshake. After too long, Sam coughs.
"Looks like something's going on." He nods toward the pond, where all the naked angels and waterfowl are gathering around Duck.
"I must go," Castiel says. He nods one last time at Dean. Pats Sam on the shoulder, one last time. Then he heads down to the pond, to help stop the apocalypse.
"So," Sam says. "What should we do now?"
"The same thing we do every night, Sammy."
"Try to save the world?"
"In our own, special way." Dean grins. It takes the edge off of being kicked out of the final showdown they'd spent the last few years gearing up for. Mysterious ways, though. You just had to roll with it, he figures.
Don't look back, he hears. Inside his head. He sneaks a quick glance at Sammy, who's got his eyes to the front, staring determinedly at the entrance to the park. Behind them, there's a brilliant flash of light, and the sound of wings, thousands of them, beating. And then nothing.
***
Epilogue
They settle out East.
Sam applies to about a million different schools. His partially forged CV and transcripts get him acceptances to all of them. He finally settles on Harvard. Dean would have been just as happy to head out to California - he could do with some nice, warm weather and hot beach babes - but Sam needs a fresh start.
Dean gets temp work at a garage. It pays the bills, and gives him something to do with his hands. He's still hunting regularly, and when he can, Sam joins him, but as the months roll by, he starts thinking about getting his own place. A salvage yard like Bobby's, or even his own garage, specializing in muscle cars and custom work.
At first, he's reluctant to put down roots. There is so much to do after Lucifer's dragged off by the angels. God may have halted the apocalypse right in its tracks, but he didn't go land of milk and honey on the world. Things are the same as always, sometimes great, sometimes shitty, but with the added chaos of angels and demons having run wild for a few years. After things quiet down and he's got to choose between settling down with Sammy, or going back on the road, he finds it way too easy to choose an apartment with his brother, and his first real job. There's a network of hunters now, thanks to the apocalypse. Plenty of good people out there, exchanging information, and fighting the good fight.
One day, months after the aborted apocalypse, Dean's relaxing on the couch with a beer, mulling over what he wants for dinner, and watching reruns of Dr. Sexy MD. Sammy's late, but not late enough that he's alarmed. Spaghetti, he decides, and another beer. He's fishing around in the fridge, when Sam bursts through the front door, calling his name.
He drops the beer back onto the shelf, swings the fridge shut, and turns, half looking for a weapon, half threat assessing the doorway.
Sam looks... excited, and not grievously injured. "You won't believe this," he says breathlessly.
"What, did you get a gold star on your exam?"
"No." The expected bitchface doesn't materialize. Instead, Sam smirks. "Come on," he calls over his shoulder. He waves someone into the apartment. Dean sincerely hopes it's a stripper, because that would freaking make his day.
It's not a stripper. It's Cas.
Dean can tell instantly - he just knows. Same body, same intensity, same indefinable Cas-ness. Although for once, different clothes. Clothes that fit, and are those jeans and boots?
"Dude," he says.
"It's Cas!" Sam says, as if that wasn't obvious. "He found me at the coffee shop."
"Found you?"
"I knew that you lived in the area, and I was preparing to search, when I saw Sam through the window, drinking an orange-mocha frappacino."
"You can tell flavours from a distance?" Dean asks. There are more important issues at hand, and Dean sincerely meant to ask about them and not Castiel's freaky angel powers, but it just kind of came out. Babbling could be next.
"Yes," Castiel says. He looks from one brother to another, so obviously preparing to say something earnest, heartfelt and tragically awkward, that Dean forces himself to say something, functioning brain or not.
"How- why are you here?"
"I'm on vacation." Castiel actually smiles then, a shy but happy smile.
"Don't you have important heavenly business to attend to?"
"Yes. But I was granted special dispensation."
"To visit earth?"
"To visit you," Castiel says. "My Father likes you both very much."
"Duck likes us?"
"He loves all of His children."
"Yeah, but he likes us very much." Dean grins. "Who does he like more?"
"Dean!"
"What? There's no harm in asking."
"Yes," Sam says. "There is. Don't listen to him Cas, he's being a bitch."
"That's my line!"
"Shut up, jerk." Sam grins, softening the insult even further than Sammy's limp insults usually are, and ushers Castiel into the living room. "So, are you ok? Is Heaven... better?" Dean lets Sam interrogate Cas - he's happy to listen. He tunes out whenever the conversation gets too nerdy, or too emo, and he finds that he's... content.
That's how, many months after he thought he'd seen Castiel for the last time, Dean ends up sitting in his living room with his brother and his best friend gossiping about the new heavenly order, and planning for Castiel's next vacation.
"Bahamas, seriously."
"I like mai tais."
"When did you try mai tais?" Sam asks.
"In Akron, Ohio. I was looking for My Father."
"Of course you were. How is Duck?"
"He is an unfathomable, infinite mystery."
"But He's still around, keeping the other angels in line."
"He is," Castiel says, with the faintest trace of his stoner-angel grin.
"That's nice Cas," Sam says. "I'm happy for you."
"Thank you, Sam."
"So you're good?" Dean asks.
"Yes," Castiel says solemnly, but then he leans in, and Dean and Sam find themselves following suit. "The archangels have been made to guard the eggs."
"Ok...?" Dean was expecting slightly hotter gossip, considering just how epically conspiratorial Castiel's smirk was.
"Yeah," says Sam. "That doesn't sound too bad."
"They have to sit on them."
"On the eggs."
"For how long?" asks Sam.
"No one knows. Perhaps forever."
"Wow. Duck is awesome. I take back every nasty thing I've said about Him."
"He is indeed awesome."
"So," Sam asks. "How's Gabriel handling egg sitting duty?"
"Not well. But at least he didn't try to roll Lucifer off a cloud like Raphael did."
"Whoa, he didn't."
"He did!"
Dean grins at Castiel. He and Sam are grinning too, and judging by how stupid they look, Dean's expression must be pretty soppy too. But hell, if there's anyone you can be an idiot with, he figures it's your family.