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The huge, giant telescope, hidden in an alcove just off from the map table, rarely gets blinked at. The curtain hiding it is so heavy it barely ruffles when someone is near it, or when the bunker door swings open at the top of the iron stairs and causes a draft. It stands alone, pointed at unknown coordinates in the sky, lonesome and large, so deep in the periphery it goes entirely unnoticed.
Until, one day, with Dean recovering from his demon hangover, Castiel is standing in the little alcove, peering into the sight of the telescope. His shoulders are hunched slightly, one eye closed, hands at his sides as he becomes the first to peer into the vast unknown. The bunker has the perfect coordinates for a telescope– no light pollution around to obscure the night sky.
Watching quietly, Dean stands on the other side of the map table. He’s pretty worse for wear, the hangover of a millennium compounded with massive guilt and depression that was once simmering under the surface but is now in full swing. Being a demon had been freeing in an eye opening way, much like Purgatory had been, and being human once more only reminds him of his heavy conscience. In many ways, Purgatory and being a demon had been easy. Human emotions like sadness and guilt took a back burner while raw anger– so much anger– pulled an attractive veil over his mind and allowed him to be in the back seat for once.
But all of that is over now, the veil lifted, Dean having to face the reality of all that’s transpired.
To see Castiel peering through a telescope has an irony that Dean can’t put into words. An angel of heaven, having lived amongst the stars, casting his gaze above from the other side.
There’s cotton in Dean’s mouth. Normally he’d wash it down with some whisky, but he’s honestly feeling a little tapped out on the booze at the moment. So he swallows around nothing, then slips his hands into the pockets of his robe. He’s been restless, avoiding sleep even though if he closed his eyes he’d finally be granted the rest he’s been unable to get for so long.
Sleeping alone right now doesn’t appeal to him, for reasons he can’t quite understand.
He’d stopped by Sam’s room, his brother passed out on his bed, too tired to even remove his sling. He’d watched his brother for a few minutes, simultaneously angry and thankful. This time when he’d disappeared, Sam had looked for him. He’d looked for him even though he’d been the worst of the worst– even though Sam knew that what he’d encounter when he eventually found Dean wasn’t going to be Dean. It wasn’t too long ago that Dean had vanished into Purgatory and Sam had gone off with a woman to live a normal life. Dean had thought this time, it would have been appropriate for his brother to move on.
This time, Sam found him.
This time his baby brother saved him instead of the other way around, like it’s been for so many years.
Castiel straightens from the telescope, sending Dean a small, cautious smile.
They operate on an entirely different level, the two of them, from Dean. Where he fights tooth and nail, using sheer grit and determination and the fear of failure, Castiel and Sam have proven that with level heads and thought out plans they can accomplish much. They’re quite a team. Dean’s not sure when he became the third wheel.
Maybe when he lied about Gadreel occupying Sam to heal him, and then kicked a very human Castiel to the curb.
In one fell swoop, he’d alienated his family.
“You should be resting,” Castiel says softly. He’s had kid gloves on since Dean was healed yesterday.
Hating the kid gloves, and also allowing himself to feel vulnerable, Dean says, “I don’t want to close my eyes.”
The way those droopy blue eyes grow heavy with sadness squeezes Dean’s freshly cleansed heart. After a moment, Castiel gestures to the telescope. “I’ve found something quite beautiful to look at, if you like?”
On soft slippers Dean approaches the alcove. The telescope is huge, and the small niche is a tight fit for it and two grown men. But Dean allows himself to occupy this space with Castiel.
“Never looked through a telescope before,” he says.
“Hannah…” Castiel sounds hesitant to mention her, but carries on. “She was looking at the stars. It reminded me to look up, too.” Dean bends to press his eye against the scope. “I often feel humbled by just existing alongside humans. But when I look at the stars… I feel just as insignificant as I imagine they do.”
“Must be nice to feel insignificant,” Dean mutters. He reaches up to adjust the focus. Castiel, perfect angel he is, has better vision than Dean. Maybe he needs readers. Damn being human.
A hand on his back surprises him, causing him to straighten up immediately. Castiel removes his palm, but it hovers, the angel clearly wanting physical contact. “Dean,” the angel says in that endlessly soulful way as their gazes lock. “There are many things I’ve done that I regret, since meeting you. And I know you feel the same. But one thing I’ll never regret is meeting you. And Sam. You both have made me a better… person. Your significance is what has kept the world turning. It’s a dreadful burden. But it’s a burden I wouldn’t wish on anyone else.”
A puzzled, slightly offended expression fixes itself on Dean’s face. After a moment he says, “Thanks…?”
Castiel looks pleased, and Dean isn’t in the mood for self flagellation, so he bends over to peer into the scope again. The telescope is fixed on a blank part of the night sky. Not on a specific star, moon, or planet– just… black. Dean pulls back to knuckle an eyelid.
“Not much to look at.”
“The telescope is aimed at a part of the night sky that, at this time of year, Jupiter will cross into.”
“When?”
The angel dons a thoughtful expression. He reaches out to gently grab Dean’s left wrist to peer at his watch. “In twenty minutes.”
Dean’s skin tingles. He pulls his hand back. “Want some cocoa?” It’s just past one in the morning.
Castiel smiles, less hesitation in it. “Yes. That sounds lovely.”
In ten minutes they have cocoa in their hands, the map table the only light source in the room as they sit at it, an orange glow casting over their features. Castiel’s mug sits untouched, but a while ago Sam had told him about the molecules, so Dean lets it pass. He’s sipping his own cocoa, alternating blowing softly and tasting. It’s quiet. With Sam, quiet can sometimes be oppressive. With Castiel, most of the time it’s peaceful. No expectations. A while ago he, seemingly out of nowhere, stopped asking for high stakes cooperation in specific world-ending events, and only requested assistance in lesser tasks, which the brothers are almost always available and ready to give. Since then, Dean has really learned to appreciate Castiel’s company… as well as examine it from a few different angles.
Like when Castiel had come into his room after the exorcism to suggest, surprisingly gently, that he rest. It’s a side of Castiel that Dean has been aware of, but has also pointedly been ignoring. The more human side of the angel, the human side he’d been forced to get in touch with when Dean kicked him out without any sort of support net. This kind, heartwarming Castiel that was forged in the fires of struggle, not love, is a Castiel that Dean doesn’t always feel ready to face. It’s so unlike the angel he first met– the angel Dean thought to be a hammer.
He’s so human, and yet still so strong.
And Dean is weak.
He’s drawn out of his thoughts when Castiel stands and moves back to the telescope. He peers through the eyepiece, then waves Dean over.
“It’s beginning.”
Dean moves over to the telescope. Having no experience with them, but understanding scopes for rifles, he peers into the eyepiece again, not sure what to expect, especially since before all he’d seen was endless black. Now, though, he holds his breath.
Jupiter rises into sight, magnificent in all its colors. It’s huge, slow moving. Dean’s breath stops, his jaw falling open. The telescope is so powerful, the image so clear, that he can see the eye of the raging storm on the surface. He’s looking at a planet. Not the moon, or far off constellations that he’s so familiar with on a daily basis– a whole other world. The word insignificant takes on an entirely new meaning. He watches Jupiter slowly travel from left to right, and eventually it’s nearly dead center.
Pulling away from the eyepiece, he turns to Castiel with a breathless smile. “Holy shit, it’s so– you gotta take a look, Cas.” He takes a half step away, tilting his head back to look at the skylight of the observatory, the iron cover open to expose them to the night sky from a hidden hole in the ground topside.
Castiel moves closer, bending to peer into the eyepiece. Dean’s gaze drops down to watch his reaction. The angel’s smile is soft, and he only looks for a moment before pulling away. “Don’t let it leave the frame without seeing it again.”
Dean doesn’t need to be told twice. His arm is brushing against Castiel’s solid front. They’re quiet as Jupiter starts to disappear, Dean committing the magnificence to memory.
Just as soon as it'd happened, he’s peering into blackness once more.
He straightens, idly rubbing the eye he’d had pressed to the scope. “That was awesome,” he says, unable to wipe the smile from his face.
Castiel’s reserved smile is soft at the edges. “It was. Awesome.”
Chuckling, Dean gently pats Castiel’s shoulder in thanks. “Think I’ll head to bed now.” He moves to the map table, picking up their mugs. He takes them to the kitchen, then makes the shuffle down to his room. When he gets there, he stops in the doorway, peering around.
His room.
The heaviness settles on his shoulders again.
“I can watch over you.”
Castiel’s voice so close makes him jump, and take a deep step into his room.
“Jesus–” he huffs.
The angel stands in his doorway, head tilted.
“No, Cas,” Dean says, falling into familiarity. “It’s weird.”
“You said earlier you don’t want to close your eyes,” Castiel says pragmatically. “I’ll be here if you wake up, to let you know they’re not black.”
It should sting– how easy Castiel can read him these days. The dorky angel who didn’t understand a single pop culture reference is gone, replaced by a person who cares deeply about his friends and has learned to pick up nuance.
Instead, it’s comforting. To know what Castiel can deduce his biggest fear and dispel it without making him utter a single word. So, Dean takes that comfort and hangs up his robe. Castiel enters the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Dean crawls into bed, turning off a lamp, leaving the other one on. Castiel sits in a chair, taking off his trench coat to drape over the back, getting comfortable. He picks up a book– Vonnegut– and settles without another word.
Rolling onto his side, facing the angel, Dean regards him quietly. He pulls the blankets up to his chin. “Cas?”
Glancing over, Castiel tilts his head. “Yes, Dean?”
After a moment of untangling knots in his gut, Dean struggles to say, “Thank you. I–” a swallow. Love you. “I appreciate you, man.”
Droopy eyes soften at the corners. “I would do anything for you, Dean.” Love you, too.
Closing his eyes, Dean absorbs the words.
For the first time in a long time, he sleeps without dreams, an angel watching over him.