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Cas laid on Dean's chest and stared emptily a spot in the wall. Dean fiddled with his hair. They were both silent and listening to each other's breathing. It felt good to be so close to someone. It was more honest than just having a quick fuck and returning back to work. It happened sometimes, but mostly they were closer than that.
It wasn't only about the sex. Dean wanted it, but Cas didn't need it to feel intimate with him. Still, it was undeniable that he liked about it. He remembered how it all began in the abandoned building when they thought it was his last night alive. It was amazing. He wouldn't have ever believed that it even could be that good. He had been absolutely positive that the whole thing was just massively overrated. He had been wrong. Possibly it was overrated in some cases, but with Dean it wasn't just about the act. It was more.
The world thought that the great playboy Dean Winchester was immortal, brave and owned skin of teflon. Everyone seemed to think that nothing could get to him. Sam knew that it wasn't quite so, but in reality, no one knew him as well as Castiel did. It was one of the reasons he loved Cas. He could act just the way he felt like, and he didn't need to act something else. Nothing greater, cooler, more confident, or more pofessional. He could just be himself.
In front of Castiel's eyes his weapons were all stripped down. He was just a pure and honest soul. Sarcasm didn't help him, Cas wouldn't have understood it anyway, and Cas saw straight through him when he lied that he was ”okay”. After he had realised that, he had stopped lying to Cas. Cas understood that his little pet needed to act brave outside their room for Sam's sake, and he never commented on it. He let it go, and never mentioned it. For that Dean was thankful, though he never said it outloud.
-Dude? Dean whispered checking if Cas was still awake.
-Yes?
-I was wondering.. You remember when I said that without your mojo, you're just a baby in a trenchcoat?
-Clearly.
-You do understand that I didn't mean to be mean?
Cas lifted his head to see into Dean's eyes in the dim room. He touched Dean's lower lip affectionately and reached up to kiss him fondly.
-No. I did not mind. As long as I am your baby in a trenchcoat, I will never mind.
-How about a deal?
-Deal?
-You get to finally call me your 'pet' if I can call you a 'baby in a trenchcoat'?
-That sounds rather intriguing. I have waited for long to use that word with your permission.
-C'mon.
-Certainly I have. You seem to have a wrong conception of the word.
-If the guys with fluffy wings call everyone else their pets, what's the friggin' point? Don't you thinks that's kinda degrading?
-Kind of. But I have understood that you like when there someone else in dominance. And I like the word. You are my pet. I feed you, wash you, put you into bed...
It was true. As time had gone by Cas had noticed how cranky Dean got if he didn't get his four hours. That's why he had the habit of putting Dean to bed by three am. He hadn't forgotten how he brought Dean clean food from around the world when he had realised that majority of American foods were ineatable thanks to Dick Roman. He still searched for good looking foods and brought them to Dean. Also it t was in a quite early point of their relationship that Dean had insisted him to take a shower, because his vessel needed it. Dean had surprised when he had stepped in the shower when Dean was showering. Dean hadn't told him to go away. Instead he had allowed him to was his hair and other parts. After that once they had taken every shower together, when Sam had been out looking for breakfast.
-Point taken. Dean sighed lifting his arms as a sign of surrendering. -But if it was up to you, you'd wear that coat every moment of your existence. Even now. I'm the one who sews it back together and washes the blood off. So, I'm not as helpless as you think. I managed to feed and wash myself quite well before you came into picture.
Cas smiled lightly. He was still moved by the way Dean felt for the coat. The way he had handed it back after he had remembered his real identity, before he saved Sam's mental health. It was sweet how the trenchcoat and the tie had been the things Dean had kept as mementos of him. He stroked lightly the burning scar on Dean's shoulder. The scarred skin seemed to be more tender, and Dean shivered as he touched the spot.
-I feel like cattle. You have fire branded me. I'm part of your possessions, Dean whined.
Castiel raised his eyebrows as he remarked:
-People take tattoos with eachother's names in them to show their love. You got marked accidentally. You should just be grateful for those scars. It wasn't exactly an easy job to do.
-I'm thankful. Thanks.
Dean grinned an pulled Cas' forehead against his own. He kissed Cas' nose gently and smelled the angels' breath. Sweet rasberry pie. Even Cas had begun to like pie by the time. Maybe Cas didn't need food to survive, but sure as hell, he liked it.
-If it makes you any happier... Cas whispered and kissed the scar -You're my most valuable posession.
-People always talk about being objectified like it's a bad thing. But being objectified by you... I kinda like it. Though, we could make the statistics even.
-Excuse me? Cas frowned.
-I got the idea from the scar you made. We could balance the equation by inking my mark on your skin. Unless, you prefer scarring too?
-What do you want me to do?
-I want you to do nothing. It's just a suggestion. Or maybe you could wear a ring...
-Ring?
-Or maybe we could tattoo you a ring?
-Dean. My vessel heals itself. No ink or scars are permanent on me. You know it.
-Well. The idea is still awesome. You. Marked for me.
Cas chuckeled lightly.
-Do you ever sleep? Dean asked drowsily. He tried not to fall asleep. He was afraid that as soon as he slept Cas would go away.
-No. Not when I have my powers, anyway.
-Gosh, I need some sleep. If I rest my eyes just for a minute, will you promise that you're not going anywhere?
-I'll wait here. Cas sighed as he brushed lost hairs away from Dean's forehead.
-Thank you. Dean snuggled closer to Cas and felt his warm body. He enjoyed the way Cas smelled. Fresh and soft, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Maybe a bit like almond?
Cas thought it was funny that Dean even asked if he was going to stay there. Of course he was. During the time had he looked after Dean without revealing himself he spent as much time beside Dean's bed as possible. He had always remained unseen and unheard. Dean didn't have the slightest idea that he had been there. Every night that Dean had spent laying alone staring the ceiling cursing his shitty life he had sat there next to him, hearing every word. Some nights he even had tried to sleep himself. He had patiently spent hours laying next to Dean with his eyes closed, not getting into sleep, listening to his little pet's rhythmical breathing.
Cas took a better position in the bed and set alarm clock. As if he needed one. But it made Dean feel comfortable, so he obediently set the alarm every night. Funny how humans got comfort from such little things. Even more peculiar was the fact that Dean insisted to have the alarm, when he anyway woke up every morning couple of minutes before the clock rang.
Slowly up and down, up and down, went Dean's chest as he breathed. Cas detected slight stubble on Dean's face. It just was there. Growing. Waiting for a blade to cut it again. And still those funny little hairs grew back again. Gently with only the tip of his index finger he marveled at the small miracle of this world. Small hairs with rough ends on his lover's face.
People didn't seem to notice or value these small genial things in creation the way he did. Sometimes he tried to explain Dean the small things in this world. He made Dean look how the grass grew or how the snowflakes fell from the sky. Those were things Dean wondered with him.
But sometimes Dean didn't seem to understand his puzzlement with human interactions. One of the things he had found difficult to understand was sarcasm. Why would anyone say the exact opposite of what they meant? It made no sense. And then one's meant to tell the difference if some one's lying or being sarcastic. Sarcastic and lying people did basically the same thing. Told something that wasn't true. Then he was supposed to know what they were driving after. That's the reason he didn't make a good hunter. He liked to be around and help, but talking with humans mostly made him very frustrated. Animals were easier. They said what they meant. Except that one dog he had met at South-Carolina, but maybe there was always one exception to every rule.
He had always looked after the man sleeping next to him. Not always as in 'all-that-time-Dean-had-known-him' but always, as in 'since-the-very-beginning'. He had seen it all; How Dean had grew up in seedy motels cooking canned beans for little Sammy, secretly crying before falling asleep. He had seen every minute of Dean's existence, but before given order he had not intefered.
He hadn't ever thought about telling Dean that he knew everything. Sometimes he secretly imagined what would Dean say if he knew that he had never been truly alone? That he had always had a guardian angel by his side? It's possible that deep down Dean knew it. He just wasn't aware of it. Perhaps it was possible that he had felt Castiel's preserence even when he hadn't sensed it.
Cas blinked and ruffled his hair. He rolled to his other side and glued himself into Dean's back. He had felt himself more human lately. It felt good. -Everything that came with being more human. Angel's had one profound problem. They did as they were told and had no emotions. They didn't feel love, compassion, or sorrow. They lived without ever being emotionally devastated or too hurt to go on. Angels felt no remorse, because it wasn't meant to be. He, on the other hand, found remorse and guilt quite purifying emotions. Angels also lacked the high-points of humanity, they had no idea how it felt like to be cared for. --To be loved.
Sometimes he wondered what had made him the way he was. A flawed angel. What had given him the urge to rebel against heaven? Or why he felt so much more than everyone else?
He had always tried to think that he was doing the right thing, as long as he was doing what he was told to do. Why was he given free will when the other angels weren't? Or was it even free will, the thing he had? Maybe he was ment to fall since the very beginning? What if it all was part of a bigger plan, he hadn't heard of?
He still remembered how he was criticized for having grown too fond of people. Aren't angels supposed to fight for the good and against evil to protect people? How could anyone doing that grow too fond of people? Isn't it the one and only thing you need, to do you work well? If you are about to protect something, you need to give a crap, as Dean would say.
Cas enjoyed every single one of those seconds he spent with Dean, no matter what he felt. If he was happy, he was happy with Dean. If he was sad and remorseful, at least he was with Dean. He felt the need to comfort Dean against world's injustice, he was the guardian angel of the story after all. But he had no idea why Dean tried to comfort him. It was his job. He wasn't prepared to it that Dean would try to make him feel better. Even less he was prepared to admit that Dean was good at it. Dean always knew what to say or what to do as well as what not to say and not to do. It seemed that Dean was better with those things than he was. It was probably because of the human interaction thing, it just wasn't his forte.
Dean didn't anymore care that much of his problems with adjusting to human life, but Sam occasionally had a laugh on his mistakes. He didn't mind, it wasn't hostile. But some people seemed to give him odd looks when he tried to adjust better. For example the one time he had smelled what was wrong with the body, and the morgue attendant looked at him like he was doing something that was absolutely denied. He was smelling a dead corpse, as if it was going to care anymore. It was anymore nothing but a pile of dead flesh.
One of his favourite human things was secretly helping Dean's daily life. Dean never found out why he never needed to buy a new toothbrush before there was nothing left from he old one but a stick with a few bristles. He didn't know why his favourite jeans were always washed and smelling good, or why his phone battery was always loaded. Cas enjoyed doing little things that made Dean feel more like home.
Cas didn't know what made him love that little man so much. He knew that when they were together he felt like home. It didn't matter that they slept every night in a different motel, because everynight he curled up next to his very own Dean. Deep down they had the same interests. Being good and helping people, doing the right thing. Everytime he was out hunting with Dean, he swelled with pride when they won. With Dean he had this odd connection that he had never had with anyone else. He could relate to his feelings and feel compassion and sympathy for him. The closest to that he had had was with his brothers and sisters, but not with humans. Dean was the exception that broke the rule.
For the first two hours of sleep Dean had no dreams. In the beginning of third hour he finally began dreaming. Cas realized that his moment had become. He concentrated and tried to find a right way to present himself in the dream without scaring Dean by creeping from a dark alley with a shotgun, or something like that.
***
Dean sat in a little wooden boat in the middle of a foggy lake. He had seen the lake before. Then he realised it; he dreamed of the same lake everytime. They used to go fishing there with his father a long time ago. He could see the pier far away behind all the fog. Sun was tardily rising in the horizon. His breath steamed. He looked around and tried to find signs of life. He felt cold. Cold and alone. The sight was beautiful, but somehow empty.
From the bottom of the boat he found a life vest. He laid down and used the vest as a pillow. The structures of the boat were hard and uncomfortable under his back. He tried desperately to find a better position to lay in. He squirmed his time, until he found the position that didn't hurt his back.
He closed the leather jacket and pulled sleeves over his fists. Relaxing was more difficult than he had imagined. He slowly inhaled and everytime he breathed out he watched how the steam took beautiful forms in the air before it was gone. The air was fresh. It was cold in his nose. He could hear how the water waved calmly against the sides of the boat. Somewhere far in the distance a bird was singing. He closed his eyes and tried to enjoy despite being cold.
The sky was pearly grey and the sun hadn't risen up yet. He watched how the cloud masses moved far above his head. He saw only the rims of the boat and endlessly grey sky. It reminded him of something he couldn't name. He didn't remember that he would have ever been somewhere with so little... Things. In the corner of his eye he could see a top of a pine. Otherwise his field of vision was empty.
He was happy that he wasn't hunting on the moment. -It wasn't exactly the number one relaxation method on market. He had nothing against hunting, and as the years passed he enjoyed it more and more. It made him feel alive. He found it fascinating that against all the odds he was still alive. At the age of twentyfive he wouldn't have believed if someone would have told him that he was going to celebrate his 33rd birthday in this world.
The constant fear or dying and weekly near death experiences made him live the life he had. He ate more pie in a week than a regular person probably ate in ten years. He knew what he liked about. Even when he died more often than regular human beings, or maybe because of that, he found the plainest of pleasures the most desirable ones. Nothing complicated. Just the simple little things.
Before meeting Cas he had slept around with more people than it could ever be possible to remeber. --Well. Cas probably remebered the names and adresses of every single one of his one night stands, but Dean didn't know that, so basically no one remembered.-- After Cas had started to spend nights with him he had eased it down. Idea of having your angel boyfriend wathing as you're screwing a hot nurse wasn't especially pleasant. Well.. Maybe there's something pleasant.. But no. -No. He grinned to himself as he remebered Cas' face when he heard about that one couple's arrangement where both of them had own their lovers. It didn't seem to be Castiel's thing. And as long as he had Cas he was okay with the things way they were. No third parties, or wild experiments, but just vanilla couple stuff. Though, Cas surprised him every once in a while...
He liked to press his body against Cas' and to feel every inch of his skin under his fingertips. To wake up and find those blue eyes staring into his own. It was nice to talk before falling asleep. He could lay down his well built barriers, because Cas knew him too well to take none of that crap for real. That man walked in and out of his dreams, so there were pretty much nothing he could hide from him. He smiled as he thought that Cas had probably known how in love he was before he himself knew.
He wondered that lately Sam had seemed to have noticed something. He had sneakily slipped the separate motel rooms into their last fight, and after that it had become their new standard. Sam gave him a bit twisted look every morning as he walked out of the room with Cas, but he didn't give a rat's ass. It was his life, and it wasn't actually Sam's business what he was doing with the angel. Sometimes he played with the idea of telling Sam, but for some reason he felt that it wouldn't have changed anything. Or maybe Sam knew it without words. He had tried to keep it quiet, so Sam didn't hear anything through the walls, but sometimes Cas got loud.
He heard a rustle of wings in the pale morning light. Five years ago he would have guessed that it was a lost bird, but the times had changed. He opened his eyes. Castiel sat beside him in the small boat. Cas didn't say a thing. He gazed around. Then he looked at Dean piercingly.
-You are cold. He took off his trenchcoat and covered Dean with it.
-Thank you. Dean mumbled awkwardly. - Don't you get cold? He asked with conserned voice.
-The change of temperatures doesn't bother me the way it bothers humans. Cas told reassuringly with a warm caring smile on his face.
-I can.. I can see your wings, man.
-It's a dream after all. In dreams the usual laws of physics don't always apply. You know that.
-Why haven't I seen your wings in my dreams before?
-You weren't ready for it.
Dean couldn't stop staring at the wings. They were pretty much the same colour as the sky. Pearly grey, with glimpses of deeper whites and greys. The wings reflected light like... Like nothing he had seen before. It was magical. He could have spent all the time in the world admiring those feathery things. God, they were beautiful. They were even more beautiful than Dean had ever dared to imagine.
Cas studied his face. Cas wasn't bothered by the staring the way people were. Dean moved his gaze from the wings to the angel's eyes. Cas just looked calmly back. He didn't even blink an eye. They looked at each other for a long time, trying to memorise every last detail of each other's appearence, like it was their last moment together in this world. The wind played with Castiel's short dark hair and the first soft beams of the sun painted his outlines with golden light. Dean smiled quietly to himself in the bottom of the boat.
Cas laid his hand on Dean's chest. It felt good. Dean didn't feel the coldness anymore. He closed his green eyes and just breathed the moment in. He didn't want to let go. He didn't want to wake up. He wanted to stay in this moment eternally. If he could have stayed in that moment forever, he wouldn't have given a crap for his responsibilities as a hunter. He had given everything he had for the good of other people since the beginning of time. He wanted to be selfish and stay in a world far away, where there existed no such thing as pain.
No one had ever taken care of him. All his life he had acted his own parent, since mother died and dad began hunting. The closest glimpses he had gotten of family life were the nights he spent at Bobby's who bought pie and watched old comedies with him. He still remembered that one night he was probably five years old and he had asked Bobby why didn't he have children of his own. Bobby had answered something like ”It doesn't matter, 'cause I have you and Sammy.” Sam was so small baby that he had just laid on the floor in the middle of gigantic piles of books drooling on his shirt.
He felt safe when the angel was watching over him. His entire life, he had only seen dreams of something like that. Ever since he was a lost little boy trying to sleep in the backseat of Impala, he had dreamt of that. When he was a little kid, his mother had told him that angels were looking over him, but it had never been especially concrete. It didn't make him feel better when Sam was away in college and he was alone. It didn't make him feel better when dad died. It didn't take away the pain.
Dean would have done almost anything to get rid of the pain, to live a normal life. Well. Something as close as he could get to a normal life; loving an angel and hunting down ghosts and vampires with his brother. Nothing too complicated.
In his wildest scenarios, he'd live in a pretty house in a suburb with Castiel. They'd have a small child. The child would have the most normal childhood he could ever offer, Christmases, birthdays, the whole set. He would love that child so much. Probably Cas could even manage to use his angel mojo to make that child their's together against the laws of biology. Cas would know how to cook, and he could open a beer after a day at office and they'd be happy together. He'd drink less and eat more pie, and even go golfing with Cas. He wondered if Cas'd like about gardening. After all, he loved bees, flowers and honey...
The silence broke.
-Could you... Dean whispered tentatively.
-Hmmh?
-Nothing.
-Tell me. Cas asked tenderly with warmth in his deep low voice.
-Could you... sing? For me? Dean asked fearing the angel's refusal.
Castiel knitted his eyebrows as he began to quietly hum a tranquil melody. It was a slow lullaby-like song. After some time Cas had fully memorized the melody and he started singing the lyrics softly. It was in the weird angel-language Dean did not understand. It was the single most beautiful thing he had ever heard.
The time had stopped. Castiel was there, he felt safe. He felt better than he had ever felt. Forgiven. Everything was utterly and completely forgiven. He didn't know what had happened, but somehow during the time Cas had been in his life, Cas had slowly washed off the sins that had fouled his conscience. It hadn't happened over a night or even over a month, but somehow Dean had gotten a wider perspective on his own deeds. He still felt guilty for more things than he could even name, but Cas had made him realize that he couldn't carry all the afflictions he wasn't responsible of.
Dean had managed all the sorrows of this one world quite well, but it was never meant to happen. -For that Cas felt sorry. All he had wanted to do was to protect the small vulnerable man, and then he himself had screwed up by playing God. He never meant to harm, only to set things right. -
The melody of Castiel's singing surounded the couple in the boat. The song was alltogether gentle, sad and hopeful. Dean only listened to the melody and kept under eye how his guardian angel's lips softly moved in the rhythm of the words that came out of his mouth.
In the bottom of the little boat rising sun glinted from a teardrop streaming down the corner of Dean's eye. Castiel noticed it but he carried on singing The Song Of The Old for the broken little man.
He would just have wanted to take all the pain away. If he could have done that he would have. He felt bad for not being able to help. He could fix broken bodies and bring dead back to life with a snap of fingers, but he couldn't ease the pain within his lover. Cas felt strongly responsible of Dean's well being. He had always felt that way. It was his job to keep Dean going and try to protect him from any harm.
Cas knew that he didn't want to go back to heaven anymore. Life on earth was better for many reasons. He liked to zap himself around exploring new corners of the world, and most of the time he liked to take Dean with him. They had been travelling around together for sometime now. He had shown Dean the highest mountain tops, and the most deserted places on the face of the earth. They always went to places where there were no other people. They liked to spend time together, just the two of them. No Sam, no responsibilities, no nothing. Just them.
They had even tried time travel couple of times before Dean had told that he wouldn't do it anymore. It wasn't the fear that he would get caught in another time, but the fact that it was too rough for Castiel. He didn't want to see the heaven's most adorable angel looking and feeling like he would have just gotten properly beaten up. He still remembred the one time they had spent a week in Venice in year 1325, and he had spent the whole week taking care of the weak angel. Time travel wasn't worth it. After they got back to the moment they had left from, Dean spent another week nursing the angel. He liked to feel needed, but he hated to see Cas suffering. It was one of the things that made him feel guilty. Cas wanted to travel through time for him. To show things to him. Him. It was his fault if something happened to Cas.
Slowly the sun finally began to rise and the horizon was painted with peach and pink. The shadows were deep blues in greyish bushes around the lake. The lake mirrored the sky. Fog was heavily hanging on the surface of the water. The bird had flewn away.
Cas felt a light cool breeze on his face. Dean wasn't asleep in this dream. He was close to it, but not yet unconscious. As the moments passed and the fog started to clear up Dean fell asleep.
---You know the moment when you wake up and you remember that you saw a good dream but you have no idea what happened? -It's what happens when you fall asleep in your own dream. Cas knew it, but he was sure that Dean didn't need to. Even when he told everything to his protege, this was one of those things he felt like keeping to himself. It was the deepest he could ever get in Dean's head. His visits there would affect Dean some way or another, but when Dean woke up he would never know what happened, or what Cas was doing there. It was his own little secret.
When Cas was finally sure that Dean was fast asleep he softly and quietly whispered to the wind:
- I love you.