Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It was over.

Chuck was defeated, all the people he had snapped out of existence were back and it was finally over.

After they’d said their goodbyes to Jack, Sam and Dean had driven back to the bunker and drunk the obligatory beer to celebrate their win together. It felt good to know it was over but it seemed wrong to both of them that only two seats of the table were filled. Well, two seats at the table and one on the floor considering Dean hadn’t been able to leave Miracle the dog behind and just whistled to him to come jump into the backseat of the Impala while he ignored Sam’s incredulous laughter.

Sitting at the table in the library Dean soon noticed his brother getting antsy across the table and glancing at his phone. The first thing he’d done of course was check up on Eileen to make sure that she was back and safe.

“Dude, come on, just go. I know you want to. Go get your happy end,” Dean smirked at him over his beer bottle.

Sam shot him his signature bitch face but dropped it quick and sighed. “I do but I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

At that Dean bristled. “What do you mean? I don’t care. I like being alone. After the week we’ve had? I just wanna take a long, hot shower and fall straight into bed.” Dean tried to give Sam a nonchalant shrug but he knew he couldn’t convince his brother that he was fine.

Distraction and deflection it is, then.

The older Winchester got up, leaving the bottle on the table, reaching over the table to grab Sam’s out of his hand and letting it join his own.

“What are you-“ Sam started but was interrupted by Dean pulling him out of his seat by his arms.

“Come on then, Sasquatch. If you’re not going willingly I’ll force you. We’re gettin’ you to Eileen right now. I’m not accepting anything else.”

Sometimes you just had to force people into their luck.

So that’s how the brothers ended up in front of Eileen’s house. Dean had insisted to actually escort him to the door if only to see with his own eyes that Sam’s girlfriend was safe.

The door opened and Eileen’s mouth opened in obvious surprise at the visitors. “Sam?”

But before she could say anything else she had her arms full with the tall man, limbs flying everywhere. Dean rolled his eyes. You should think he’s been in possession of those long enough to actually have some semblance of control over them.

Deciding not to disturb them any longer Dean clapped Sam on the arm still wrapped around Eileen, gave Eileen a wide smile that she returned in kind as best as she could while being smothered and turned back to the Impala sitting on the curb. As he slid into the driver’s seat he yelled a quick “Sammy, don’t suffocate your girlfriend!” chuckled at the sight and put Baby in Drive.

As he pulled away in the direction of the bunker Dean watched his brother kiss his girlfriend passionately in the rearview mirror and had to swallow something that felt a little too much like jealousy for his liking.

At least one of us gets a happy ending.

Back home Dean threw himself into checking up on everybody; calling some, texting others just to make sure all his friends were back, safe and sound.

Yawning he turned off the lights in the war room and walked to his room, Miracle at his foot and phone in hand.

Just got off the phone with Jody. The girls, her and Donna are all good as well. So don’t worry and just have a good night. Oh, and don’t forget to use protection!

Shooting off the last update to his brother, Dean for once didn’t even get to taking his clothes off or turning off the lights. The past couple days and their heavy exhaustion finally catching up to him, he just fell onto his bed and was out like a light within seconds.

The next day didn’t leave room for much introspective either given that Sam had apparently invited everyone over for the mandatory “Hey, we survived the apocalypse! … Again!” party without giving Dean a heads up, only telling him about it when he came back home with Eileen in the afternoon, which left Dean to speed walk through the grocery store, picking up food and booze for all their friends while cursing Sam under his breath. Returning to the bunker he had to scramble to get the burgers on the grill before anyone arrived.

He made it in the end. Of course he did, if there’s one thing Dean Winchester was good at, it was burgers and he wanted everyone to know that.

So that was how Dean found himself leaning against the wall in the war room observing the crowd that had accumulated over the course of the evening.

Sam and Eileen stuck close to each other the whole time, neither moving more than two feet away even when talking to people.

Donna and Jody sat at the table nursing their beers and throwing their heads back with laughter at whatever was happening in the hunting story Bobby was telling.

Charlie and Stevie were deep into conversation with none other than Rowena who had showed up at some point with the demand to be filled in on what the hell had happened topside and then promptly forcing Sam to go get her a glass of wine.

They’d invited Adam over as well but he’d declined. He was still struggling to adjust to life without Michael riding shotgun and had said he’d need some time for himself. Sam made him promise to call them if he needed anything at all. Seemed like Dean wasn’t the only one missing an angel.

Claire, Kaia and Alex were roping anyone passing by them into a round of poker with them which had led to several of the Apocalypse World refugees losing a ton of money to them because Dean knew for a fact Claire wasn’t playing fair…

Speaking of the blonde, Dean stood up straight so he could let his eyes trail over all the people in the room. Where had Claire gone anyway?

His question was answered when after a second the speakers which had been programmed to play a playlist of only classic rock – as they should, in Dean’s humble opinion – began blaring Wannabe by the Spice Girls. Don’t ask him how he knew the song. Sam had a habit of playing bad ‘90s pop in the mornings to annoy Dean. The man’s face turned dark with a frown as he marched to the audio system propped up on the other side of the room, barely getting a glance at Claire’s grinning face before her blonde ponytail disappeared into the hallway, pulling Kaia after her.

“I’ll deal with you later, Posh Spice!” Hey, if he had to listen to the crap music, he might as well make it an insult.

He rolled his eyes at the answer Claire yelled back at him, “I don’t even look like Victoria Beckham!”

Dean looked after her for a moment. She put on a brave face for the outside world but he knew she was hurting a lot over Castiel’s death. Earlier he’d caught her in the kitchen downing gulps of whiskey straight from the bottle she must’ve found lying around – it wasn’t like alcohol was hard to come by in the Winchesters’ household after all.

When Claire had noticed Dean watching her, she’d looked up with a forlorn look on her face and had raised the bottle, exclaimed “To Castiel” in a bitter voice and knocked back some more of the drink. Dean hadn’t been able to argue with her.

The hunter sighed and continued to stare around the room. Miracle was sure having one hell of a time, flitting around people’s legs and collecting head scritches from everyone. Dean smiled at that. Who’d have thought they’d get a dog out of defeating Chuck?

His face hurt. He’d been smiling the whole evening, talking to people as if everything was fine. Celebrating the epic win they just secured and sharing everyone’s happiness. Dean was happy of course. How could he not be? They were free now. Free of Chuck’s influence, free of having to fight for their lives. Well, until the next apocalypse of course.

But there’s a strain to the grins and a heavy feeling in his chest every time he laughed at someone’s jokes.

“Quite the turnout, huh?” Somehow Dean had ended up next to his brother without noticing. Looking up and seeing Sam with Eileen hanging off his arm, the heavy weight disappeared for a second. He was genuinely happy for Sam. Seeing the way he’d reacted when they got to Eileen’s house and found her phone and bag on the floor – Dean didn’t know how to get the heartbroken look off his brother’s face and that had terrified him. But now here they both were, smiling widely at him.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head a little. “Yup, nothin’ gets people goin’ quite as much as a ‘Hey, we didn’t die! Again! Beer and burgers on us!’”

Laughing, Sam took a swig of his bottle. “’Also, sorry for kinda being the reason God wanted to kill everyone in the first place. Won’t do it again, promise!’”

Chuckling, Dean’s eyes fell to Eileen. “You doin’ good? Can I get you another burger?”

Eileen smiled up at her boyfriend’s brother, shaking her head. “No, thanks. I’m good. I’ve already eaten three. I’m gonna explode if I have any more.”

Pointing at her Dean looked at Sam with wide eyes. “See? That’s how a normal person eats, Sammy. Not the rabbit food you call dinner!”

Sam just rolled his eyes and scoffed. “It’s healthy, Dean. Wouldn’t kill you to eat some every once in a while either. Your body probably throws a party every time a vitamin swims by on accident.”

Dean walked backwards towards the hallway, gesturing vaguely with his bottle and making an exaggerated grimace that’s supposed to mimic Sam’s. “Whatever, bitch. I’m gonna get another beer. I know I throw a party any time that swims by!”

With that Dean turned around and disappeared around the corner.

Upon noticing Sam’s unmoving figure, Eileen looked up into his face. Freeing her hands from him, she signed, “Is he okay?”

Sam sighed heavily before replying, “Cas didn’t come back. He always takes that real hard. This time though, it seems… worse.”

Both now stared at the doorway wearing concerned faces.

In the hallway Dean let his mask fall as soon as he was out of sight from the guests. Stopping a few feet away from the kitchen he leaned on the tiled wall with one hand, rubbing the other over his face, shoulders slumped in defeat. Any hint of a smile had disappeared as soon as he had turned his back to the war room. Instead of entering the kitchen to get another drink as he’d told Sam he would, he passed right by it. He had no plans of going back out there.

If someone asked where he went tomorrow, he’d just blame the alcohol and say he needed to lie down. Not like anyone was going to believe that – rarely having been sober at all in 35 years that was a shitty excuse even for Dean. He just didn’t care anymore.

Dean stopped in his tracks as he realized where his feet had led him.

To his right the door wore the sign of room 7B.

He didn’t turn, didn’t move, just stood there frozen, with a sort of shell-shocked expression, as he stared blankly into the hallway. He desperately didn’t want to think about it. Everything in Dean’s body screamed at him to move, to get away from there but he just couldn’t. His legs didn’t listen to him anymore.

Suddenly he saw Castiel’s blue eyes in front of him. “I made a deal.”

No, no, no. This wasn’t happening. Dean shuddered and tried to force the memories out of his head.

“I cared about the whole world because of you.”

He squeezed his eyes shut to no avail, Castiel’s face still hovering in front of him. Tears slipped down his cheeks now without him noticing, too caught up in trying to regain control.

“You changed me, Dean.”

As his lungs started to burn, Dean realized he hadn’t taken a breath since he stopped moving and gasped, his eyes flying open.

“I love you.”

As if there was electricity surging through his body Dean abruptly took a step forward and then another and soon he was running towards his bedroom. Away from that room and away from the memories.

The slamming of the door resounded loudly in the halls of the bunker. Hands and forehead pressed hard into the wood of the door Dean struggled to retain his composure.

After a few seconds he realized it was a lost cause so instead he turned to his nightstand to indulge in his favourite coping mechanism – alcohol.

Bringing the bottle to his lips, head tipped back, Dean belatedly noticed that the whiskey was empty. He made a frustrated noise as he threw it on the bed and ran both hands through his hair, tugging on it until he could feel the sharp pain.

He stepped over to his desk to snatch up the scotch biding his time there. Still a third of the bottle left. Score.

Among the mess on the surface, between books and notes and pens, his eyes fell on a picture staring up at him. It was a picture Dean had taken of him and Castiel, dressed up in their FBI outfits, wearing the cowboy hats. Of course Dean had talked the angel into taking a selfie with him. The opportunity to play dress up as a cowboy needed to be commemorated after all.

The memory made him smile fondly. Dropping his voice a ridiculous amount to imitate his best friend’s gruff voice, he quietly quoted, “I’m your huckleberry.” Castiel had sounded so serious when he had said it that it made Dean chuckle.

Then he remembered that was the first case they’d taken on after Castiel had returned from the Empty. He hastily turned away from the photo, stumbling a bit in the process and hitting the opening of the glass bottle against his teeth with a loud click.

Taking it away again in favour of rubbing a hand down his face, Dean dropped down and sat on the floor at the bottom of his bed, his knees brought up to his chest, shoulders slumped as if a heavy weight was holding them down.

Finally bringing the scotch to his mouth, he decided to make it worth it and swallowed big gulps, ignoring the slight burn in his throat as it went down. In fact he appreciated it. Any pain gave him a distraction however short it may be.

Letting the hand holding the alcohol drop down to his knees, Dean ran a hand over his face again, rubbing at his eyes with his thumb and index finger.

He was just so tired. He just wanted to sleep and forget about everything but he had the slight expectation that he wouldn’t be able to get any shuteye that night.

Again he just stared into space – this was becoming a habit, wasn’t it – and waited for the alcohol to show any effect. Not that it had much anymore. He’d kinda ruined that by depending on it as a real healthy coping mechanism for a good two thirds of his life.

Thinking back to all the people hanging around the war room, Dean heaved a sigh. He desperately wanted to be happy that they won, that everyone was back. He was happy about that, he truly was and he wanted to be out there with the others, celebrating another averted end of the world. Shame and frustration wreaked havoc in his mind that he couldn’t.

Truth of the matter was not everyone was back.

So how could he truly be happy?

The choice of words his thoughts chose made Dean flinch.

“I always wondered, ever since I took that burden, that curse, I wondered what it could be? What my true happiness could even look like?”

No. Not again.

Taking a shallow breath Dean scrunched up his face, tried to push the memory out of his mind but to no avail. He didn’t want to hear the words again but Castiel’s whole monologue had burned itself into Dean’s brain, so deep that no amount of alcohol would ever get it out of there. Not that that would stop him from trying. Hard. He gulped down another mouthful of scotch.

“The one thing I want … It’s something I know I can’t have.”

Setting the bottle down hard on the floor, Dean buried his face in his hands.

“How would you have known, Cas?” The question came out muffled through his fingers. “How would you have known that you can’t have it? I didn’t even know! Damnit, you idiot. Why would you even make a deal like that?”

He brought the bottle up again, muttering into the glass. “’When you’re truly happy.’ What, so this whole – Our little… Family didn’t make you happy? That what this is about?” Dean scoffed before drinking again. He knew it wasn’t what this was about at all but oh well it’s something he could get angry about and as everyone knew, Dean Winchester’s second most favourite healthy coping mechanism was anger.

As soon as he thought that, the angel’s voice weaselled its way into Dean’s brain again.

“You think that hate and anger, that’s what drives you. That’s who you are. It’s not.”

He dropped his head again, staring unseeing into his lap.

“Why – Why would you even say that, all that crap. It’s not fair, Cas!” Dean’s voice rose in volume. Leaving the bottle behind on the floor, he got up and paced around the room in small circles, not being able to stay still any longer. “Why would you say that to me, make up a whole goddamn speech, right after announcing that dumbass deal with this dumbass entity and then… and then just…”

Tugging on his hair again, he felt himself become more agitated every second. Eyes darting around the room without taking anything in, he swallowed around the lump in his throat. Abruptly, he flung a hand out, balled into a fist, wincing slightly as his knuckles connected with the solid wall, hard. He stood there for a while, his hand throbbing as it rested where it landed.

A few moments later his body just deflated. His shoulders folded in on themselves. He continued, quieter now. “And then saying that other crap?” He couldn’t bring himself to address Castiel’s declaration any more precisely, scared of opening up that can of worms.

“I didn’t… I didn’t even have time to process the fact that you were freakin’ killing yourself there, man. Let alone…” He started pacing again, the hurting hand coming up to his neck to rub harshly. He could feel his anger rising again but his voice seemed to have stopped cooperating. The hunter wanted to shout, yell and scream but his voice barely came out as a whisper. In the quiet of his room it still seemed too loud to acknowledge any of this after so many years of repressing and deflecting.

“I didn’t even know you could feel that way, Cas. You’re an angel, I didn’t know you could feel – I didn’t even know angels could feel … feel love on this level, how was I supposed to know?” Dean knew he was rambling now but once he started, he couldn’t stop it. Years and years of ignoring the pain, he now finally let himself feel it and there was no turning back. He’d reached the point of no return and promptly threw himself over it.

“All this time I didn’t – I couldn’t let myself think of- of anything more. I didn’t allow myself to even entertain the idea because … Well, you’re a freakin’ angel! What’s a stupid human like me in comparison? And a fucking broken one at that! And then when – just when I kinda came around to it, when I was ready to just say fuck it and tell you in Purgatory, you didn’t let me finish and when we got back, it was just one shitshow after the other and I barely had any time to breathe, let alone figure out my feelings.

And of course the whole thing with Chuck didn’t help. Announcing everything we’ve ever done wasn’t even us, but him? That we never had any choice? I figured my feeling didn’t matter anyway. Or yours, for that matter. Right until – right until he told us he never had any control over you. And suddenly your speech, that whole ‘We’re real’ thing, it felt … Well, real.”

Dean stopped to take a couple breaths, realizing he’d started shaking. He closed his eyes and dropped his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I never got to even think about it all properly ‘cause everything happened so fast and now you’re gone and this isn’t how it was supposed to go, Castiel!”

He hadn’t realized he’d started shouting again. Throwing a glance back at the door, he half expected someone to hear him and come to find him screaming at the wall. They’d think he’d finally lost his marbles. They wouldn’t exactly be wrong, now, would they? Dean thought with a humourless chuckle.

He shrugged it off and rambled on, fists clenched tight, fingernails digging into his palms, uncomfortable pressure where his knuckles had met the wall.

“You can’t just drop that on a guy and then dip, Cas! That’s not how this works! That’s not how any of this works! You didn’t even give me a chance to say goodbye, let alone say…”

Say it back, he thought but couldn’t speak it out loud. Because that would make it real and he couldn’t let it be real. Not without…

The anger rushing out of him as fast as it had come, Dean now just felt empty. He could kill monsters and demons and save people but when it came to the one person he needed to save, he couldn’t.

As he stared at the shotguns hanging on his wall, a thought popped into his head at that.

Suddenly he remembered who he was.

He’s Dean Winchester. He’s Dean Freaking Winchester who’s killed Death, and then Hitler, and then Death, again. And God! Goddamn freaking God! Well, he didn’t kill him and it was more of a group effort to be honest, but still. It’s about the matter of principle.

He could have killed Chuck. He would have, too. He had been this close to doing so before Castiel’s voice popped into his head – like it’s been doing so often these days – and gently told him No. Because apparently that’s not who he was. Dean Winchester was not a person who’s driven by anger. By hate. By rage.

He’d thought he was. Still thought so but Dean was doing his damnedest to believe the angel.

It’s honestly the least he could do after the angel sacrificed himself for Dean. Again. How many times was that now? He couldn’t recall. What a fucked up thing that this kinda thought was normal in the Winchester household.

The least thing Dean could do was try to be the man Castiel saw in him.

The man who acted out of love.

Dean’s face, wet from tears he couldn’t remember shedding, changed. Where once grief sat heavily in the lines of his skin, determination now resided.

His shoulders rose and he stood up straighter.

A man with a plan.

A man who acted out of love.

Before he could even think this through, Dean turned on his heels and marched back through the halls of the bunker, not bothering to turn off the lights or close the door to his room.

He knew what he had to do, now.

His route didn’t take him past the war room. He’d seen enough of Sammy’s worried little glances this week, thank you very much.

Through the bunker’s garage he left the building quickly, walking through the grass until he stood in the middle of the field next to the bunker.

To be honest, he didn’t really know why he’d come out here. He could’ve done this just as well in his room but this seemed more fitting. Don’t tell Sam, but Dean did like chick flicks and the occasional dramatic moment and this felt like it ought to be one.

For some reason Castiel saw a man in Dean who acted out of love. So out of love Dean would act.

“Jack! I know you’re listening and I don’t care that you wanna be hands off! Get your feathered ass down here this instant or you ain’t gettin’ a Christmas card!” Dean yelled at the top of his lungs at the night sky, thousands of stars glittering above him. As he glanced around, nothing changed. Just a lonely hunter, standing there in the cold breeze, screaming at nothing but the dying grass to his feet.

“Jack, I mean it. I need your help and you know it’s important, I wouldn’t be doing this otherwise!”

Dean meant this, too. He was speaking the truth here. After all they’d been through – after all these years of being the punching bag to all these powerful forces, after having to deal with Azazel, with Lilith, Lucifer, the Leviathan, Abaddon, Metatron, Michael, then God?

Dean got it. Dean agreed with the hands off approach. He approved of it. Power in the wrong hands was never good and as much as he didn’t think Jack would turn dark side anytime soon, he agreed that taking himself out of the equation might have been a good idea.

But right now, there was one task Dean couldn’t do alone.

“Jack, you know what I’m talking about. I owe it to him, Jack. We all do!”

The hunter could barely finish his sentence before finally he heard the familiar fluttering of invisible wings behind himself.

For a second Dean allowed himself a relieved smile before he turned around to take in the form of Jack, one hand raised in his awkward little wave.

“Hello, Dean.”

After smiling at Jack for a moment in greeting, he immediately delved into explaining his request, knowing all too well the nephilim might disappear at any given moment.

Man, he remembered feeling this way with Castiel and secretly being just the slightest bit glad when he couldn’t flit away all the time. Immediately after thinking this, Dean frowned at himself, feeling ashamed to even think this.

Shaking it off, he started to ramble for another time this night. At least this time there was actually someone listening.

“Thanks for showin’ up, buddy. Look, I know you said you wouldn’t meddle and I get it, I do but I can’t let just Cas rot in the Empty. He sacrificed himself for me, for all of us really. We wouldn’t have been able to defeat Chuck with Billie still on our heels and you know it. We gotta at least try and get him outta there.” Taking a deep breath, Dean stopped staring at somewhere over Jack’s shoulder to look him in the eyes. “I have to try, Jack. I have to at least try.” He trailed off at the end, his voice getting more desperate every second. He was aware of the moisture his eyes were shining with but he couldn’t find it in himself to care right now.

He could only look at Jack with pleading eyes. If he had to, he would get to his knees to beg.

Anything to get his angel back.

Jack stared at Dean with something in his eyes that from any other person Dean would have assumed it was pity. But he knew Jack too well to see anything but kindness and genuine sorrow.

“I know, Dean. I’m not happy about this either, believe me. But I have no power in the Empty.” Sadness joined kindness and sorrow.

Dean pointed a finger at him accusingly, stepping closer. “You’ve brought him back before! You can do it again!”

He deflated when Jack shook his head slowly and looked at his shoes as he answered. “When I absorbed Chuck’s power, I guess I also inherited the inability to control anything there. I’ve tried, it’s the first thing I did after bringing everyone back, believe me.” Jack wore a bitter expression as he wrung his hands in frustration. “I tried and tried but it doesn’t work. It’s like there’s this… This wall now that I can’t break through. I even got Amara to try but she can’t get to the Empty either.”

Jack looked up at Dean again and all of a sudden he looked like the 3 year old lost little boy that he was.

With a jolt Dean remembered that this wasn’t just another powerful God. Well, he was, technically but before all that, way before that, Jack was also just a kid. A kid with way too much responsibility on his shoulders. A kid who never got to be a kid because he’d been thrown into chaos and destruction and murder even quicker than Dean had been all those years ago.

All the fight left Dean at the realization that Jack reminded him so much of himself at that moment.

A kid who’d just lost a parent and had barely even been given time to grieve before a weight way too heavy and way too much to bear alone had been thrust at him.

Somewhere along the way Dean had forgotten that.

He rubbed a hand across his mouth and stepped towards Jack, put a hand on his shoulder and ducked his head to look Jack in the eyes, taking in the surprised expression.

“Jack, I’m sorry. I know you did everything you could. Cas was your dad after all. And you probably haven’t even had a chance to breathe yet, have you?”

Jack looked up at Dean hesitantly like he wasn’t sure what to say so Dean just kept going.

“Listen, I do agree with the whole lonesome wolf God kinda thing but you’re still…” Dean hesitated but then decided that screw this, the boy deserved to hear it. “You’re still our kid. And I know you’ve been closest with Cas and I know you and I didn’t get off on the best start and there’s a lot of issues I haven’t dealt with but those are on me. Those are mine to figure out and while I do that, you will always have a family here. With me and with Sam. Your room didn’t come with the condition that Cas was here. It’s your home as well. And you can always come back here after you’ve done your God business.”

Dean squeezed Jack’s shoulder and smiled gently at him while the boy rubbed tears away.

“You really mean that?” he asked with scrunched up eyebrows.

Dean felt a pang of regret at having made Jack feel doubts about this.

“I do. I know Sam would love to have you around.” Dean’s smile turned into a wide grin. “He’s found some new smoothie blog and is just dying to experiment those recipes on someone. Not even Eileen will be sweet talked into it. Apparently even her love has limits.” Dean chuckled and shook his head a little while Jack found his composure to beam up at him.

“I am really busy, you know, with my … ‘God business’” There was a little pang of sadness Dean felt at Jack bringing up his hands to make the same little air quotes Cas had been so fond of. “But I might just take you up on the offer. It can get pretty lonely. And I do miss your burgers.”

At this Dean perked up and let his pride straighten his posture. “Well, they are the best burgers in all of Kansas. You’d be a fool not to like ‘em. Also today’s you lucky day ‘cause I’m pretty sure there’s gotta be a couple burger patties left I can throw on the grill for you.”

Grinning up at Dean, the two of them stood there in comfortable silence for a while before sobering up.

“Dean, I really am sorry. I know you want him back. So do I. But I just don’t know how.”

The hunter waved his hand in a vague gesture, swallowing down any emotion rushing through him. “Eh, I figured it was a long shot anyway. I just … I had to try, you know?” His shoulders slumped forward a bit.

Jack regarded him with eyes far too knowing for his age. “I know. He’d have done the same for you.”

“Yeah, well, he’s a Winchester after all. Stubborn, self sacrificial, deal making assholes that we are”, Dean replied with a chuckle. Seeing the grief never quite leaving Jack’s face, Dean pushed the sorrow he was feeling into a dark room in his heart and sealed the door shut. For now, at least. Putting on his big brother mask, he reached up to ruffle the kid’s hair. “Alright, now come on. Let’s go see Sammy. He’ll freak out when he sees you. Maybe he’ll even faint. I’ll definitely need to film that.”

Jack laughed and let Dean put an arm around his shoulders and drag him back into the bunker.

Considering they had been telling the story of how they defeated God more than a couple times, it probably shouldn’t have come as a surprise that at the sight of Jack stepping foot into the war room, everyone kind of just stopped moving. No one here had a great record at dealing with powerful beings after all.

Jack however didn’t notice. Before he could even wave his Hello, a ball of fur came darting through people’s feet, bee-lining for Jack who let out a high pitched squeal and dropped right down to the dirty bunker floor to hug Miracle and bury his face in the dog’s neck.

After that the hunters relaxed. Most of them had met Jack at one point or another and apparently this was proof enough for them that while his abilities might have changed, inside he was still just the young kid who loved nougat. Besides, he’d been raised by three of their own.

Sam – who didn’t faint, by the way, thank you very much – came striding over with big steps and surprise and happiness written on his face and pulled Jack up from Miracle and right into his arms. “Hey, Jack. Welcome home.”

Dean watched them with a fond expression and ignored the concerned look his brother shot him after he pulled away from the nephilim. Of course Sammy had put 2 and 2 together on why exactly Dean would have summoned Jack. Stanford kid wasn’t stupid after all.

The rest of the night had everyone not so subtly asking Jack about his plans for the world and Jack mostly just answering that he didn’t really know yet.

That went on until at last everyone either said their goodbyes or disappeared into one of the bunker’s many bedrooms.

When morning arrived, sunlight hidden in the windowless bunker, Dean had already given up on sleeping. After tossing and turning for a few hours he’d resigned himself to make a big pot of coffee and carrying it with him into the library.

That’s where Jack found him, elbow propped up on the table, bleary eyes staring down into a book and a mess of other tomes and references and notes strewn across the table as if a used book store had thrown up in the library.

Jack carefully stepped up to the table, picking up the closest book and reading the title. All about Angels Volume 3: Summoning. He frowned. “Good morning. What are you doing?”

Dean blinked slowly, coming back to the world of the living and leaned back in his chair to stretch his arms above his head. “Research. Why’re you up so early? Even Sam’s not up for another hour for his run.” The word run always sounded like an insult out of Dean’s mouth and it made Jack laugh.

“I was just coming to say Goodbye.” At Dean’s frown he was quick to add, “For now. I have some uh, God business to do.”

Dean nodded slowly, deciding it was probably better not to ask. “Well, as I said yesterday, you’re always welcome here. It’s your home. You better come by for weekly family dinners!”

Jack grinned at him and nodded. “I will, I promise.” He stepped back and raised his hand for his mandatory wave but something was nagging at Dean. He’d thought about it a lot last night so before he could talk himself out of it or Jack could disappear, Dean held up a hand.

“Hold on a second, Jack. I gotta say something real quick.”

A man who acted out of love, not out of anger, huh? Well, time to let go of the anger, then.

The way Jack tilted his way to the side in confusion reminded Dean so much of Castiel that he hurried to keep talking before he could dwell on it too much. “I know you still beat yourself up about what happened with Mom. I know you feel guilty about it. But the fact that you know what you did was wrong? That’s the important thing. Y made a mistake. It wasn’t even really you, hell, you basically had no soul left and I know what that’s like. We’ve all done shit we regret, Sam has when he was soulless, I have when I was a demon, Cas-” Dean looked away for a second and coughed around the lump in his throat. “What I’m trying to say, I realize that you’ve been trying your best to get better. I know I’ve been too hard on you since – Well always, really. I haven’t treated you right. I haven’t been here for you the way Cas and Sam have and I’m also sorry for that. And what happened with Mom…”

The sight of Jack staring at his shoes with his shoulders shaking in a way that showed how much he was struggling giving him the last push he needed. Dean pushed his chair back from the table, stood up and went over to come to a halt in front of the kid. Putting a hand on his shoulder, he gave it a squeeze and waited until he looked up at him through tears in his lashes.

“Jack, I forgive you. Yeah, I was angry about it and devastated that Mom’s gone, but it happened and there’s nothing we can do but move on. So yeah. There you have it. You’re forgiven,” he ended a little lame.

Jack stared up at him incredulously. “But, Dean, you can’t just-“

“I can, Jack, and I have. There’s so much bad in this world and after all we’ve been through? Everything you’ve done for us? How could I not forgive you? Jack, you’re our kid. Kids make mistakes and it’s the parents’ job to forgive them. You’re not the same person anymore, you’re good now. You’ve done so good and you’re still doing good and that’s all that matters.”

Still not looking like he believed him, Jack started shaking his head rapidly. Dean rolled his eyes at him affectionately and just pulled him into a tight hug. He knew from the shaking breaths he took that Jack was quietly sobbing now, but he just held him through it.

Dean had thought about this hard last night and though he hadn’t thought he could ever forgive Jack for killing Mary, Dean had found that when he thought about that night, he didn’t feel any anger anymore. Sadness, sure. Grief, of course. But nothing directed at Jack. The kid had shown them time and time again now that he wasn’t the evil half angel, half human monster everyone had suspected he was when they first heard about Lucifer’s son.

Jack was a Winchester and if he made a big, stupid mistake, then so what? That was basically a family trait at this point.

A big grin, if a little teary eyed, sat on his face when Jack found his composure and pulled back from Dean. “Thank you, Dean. You can’t imagine how much that means to me. I am sorry about-“

Dean shook his head quickly. “No. No apologizing anymore, okay? It happened, you apologized – more than once, too – you showed me how much you regret it, I forgive you. That’s over now.”

Smiling sheepishly, Jack nodded. “I really should go now.”

Dean clapped him on the shoulder once more, smiling brightly at him. “Alright. Go and make all your dads proud.”

Waving his hand, the sound of wings resounded in the bunker and then Dean was alone again, left to his books. So he sat down and read.

“So what’s all this then?” Sam asked when he came back from his shower, still dripping a little from his hair. Dean sighed annoyed and pulled a book away from where the water drops had fallen on the cover.

“It’s research.”

Sam rolled his eyes and started randomly thumbing through an encyclopaedia of all things heavenly. “I can see that. What I’m asking is what you’re looking for.”

Dean started rolling up a random piece of paper in his hand, staring at the table. “You know what. I’m looking at a way to either get into the Empty or to get … Someone out.”

Sam nodded; he knew that of course, he just needed Dean to actually use his words for once.

“And how’s that going?”

Dean huffed a frustrated sigh and rubbed his hands over his face harshly. “It’s not. There’s virtually nothing about that hellhole in any of this shit. I thought the Men of Letters were oh so smart! How come none of their lore says anything about the Empty?”

Sam just stared at him worriedly. He knew Dean wasn’t finished and he was proven right when Dean’s shoulders folded in on themselves and he let his head drop to his chest.

“I can’t just let him go, Sam. I can’t. Not after he…” he trailed off but now Sam’s interest was peaked. Dean hadn’t talked much about what actually went down that day, they were too busy finding a way to defeat Chuck and to be honest he also hadn’t been ready to talk feelings since he was reeling with sorrow after losing Eileen. And after that Dean had shut down any talk about emotions. Not that Sam was surprised.

“After what, Dean? What happened?” He didn’t really expect an answer. Acknowledging what he felt had never been Dean’s strong suit. He’d always preferred letting his frustration out by punching something. Or someone.

So when he actually got the whispered response, Sam’s eyes widened.

“He said… Sammy, he said he loved me.” Dean looked up and Sam’s breath hitched. In all his 37 years he had never seen his strong big brother who never stayed down long after he’d been kicked to the ground, look this lost. “He said he loved me and had this whole speech ready and I couldn’t even say anything. I didn’t even understand what he was talking about at first and when the shoe dropped, it was too late. He killed- he sacrificed himself, gave himself up to the Empty for- for me, Sammy.” Dean’s voice broke and he closed his eyes to stop the tears from falling.

All this information wasn’t news to Sam. Everyone with eyes knew how Castiel felt about Dean. Except Dean, obviously.

What worried him however was the fact that Dean had no fight left in him to even argue about talking feelings.

In the gentlest voice he could manage Sam asked him, “And how do you feel about him?”

Again, he was just waiting for the older hunter to become upset at all this chick flick shit and run out of the room, away from any deep talk.

And again, Sam was startled when Dean said, in a voice so low that he had to lean over the table to hear him, “I feel the same. And I couldn’t even tell him.”

One disadvantage of never talking about emotions in this family, Sam didn’t have the slightest clue now what he was supposed to say. His decision was taken from him however, when Dean’s entire posture changed from one second to the next. He straightened up, chuckling unconvincingly and rubbing a hand over his eyes. Any vulnerability was shut down within a heartbeat and the walls came back up. Talk was over.

“Anyway. Nothin’ I can do about it but try and find a way to get him outta there. So that’s what I’m gonna do.” Picking up what had to have been the most promising books of the bunch, Dean fled the room as fast as he could, not giving his little brother a chance to speak.

Sam’s worried gaze stayed on the spot he disappeared to for a long while after, heartbroken for the love his brother never got to experience.

Once again the door slammed shut behind him and once again Dean was alone in his room. He hadn’t planned on letting Sam in on how he was feeling but he just didn’t care anymore. Dean knew Sam wouldn’t judge him and even if he did, at this point Dean had no energy left in him to care.

Driven only by stubbornness to find a way to rescue his angel, Dean laid out the books that he had the most hope in – not that it was much, most of these tomes didn’t even mention the Empty – and got to work leafing through them.

When the rest of his bottle of scotch was gone so was Dean’s belief that he could find anything even remotely helpful. All the centuries of knowledge and he couldn’t find any way to get into the Empty. At this point he wouldn’t even care for a way out. He just wanted to get to Castiel. No matter how it was done.

“C’mon! Anything! There must be some way to get into that goddamn hellhole!”

Dean shoved the last book he had off of his lap before he ran his fingers through his hair to pull at the strands sharply. He couldn’t even do this. He couldn’t even find a way to get to the angel.

Pushing all the books to the floor, uncaring for the old covers and the frail pages, Dean put on the headphones that were plugged into his walkman, flicked off the lamp on his nightstand and wriggled his way under the covers. He didn’t even know where Miracle was hiding out but he couldn’t bring himself to leave his room again. Surely Sam would let him sleep into his room. He’d taken a liking to the fluff ball which wasn’t surprising to anybody. The kid had begged for a dog his entire childhood after all.

Dean pushed down the Play button on the player and stared into the empty space as the opening sounds of Led Zeppelin’s Thank You filled his ears.

All the times Dean had lost Castiel – be it by exploding into thousands of bloody chunks or via angel sword at the hand of Lucifer, being consumed by the Leviathan or stabbed by that bitch of a reaper – it all added up now to punch the air out of Dean’s lungs.

He’d watched the angel before, had watched him sacrifice himself for the greater good time and time again and of course it was never easy. It always sucked balls.

But this time? This time was different. This time Dean knew it was all his fault. This time Castiel had died as a direct consequence of Dean’s actions.

If Dean wouldn’t be Dean, if he hadn’t compelled Castiel to help them stop the apocalypse – well, the first iteration of it anyway – all those years ago, if the angel had never met him, never pulled him out of Hell, he’d be fine now. He wouldn’t have died at all, ever.

If it weren’t for Dean, Castiel would be safe, healthy and alive right now.

Dean made a low sound of distress in the back of his throat.

It was all his fault. It was always his fault. People kept dying around him, kept leaving him and he was terrified of being alone.

Dean huffed. Oh, the irony in that.

Of course he was scared of solitude. Demons and angels alike had told him over and over again how his pathetic ass couldn’t stand being on his own.

And he’d proved them right, too. He’d sold his soul so Sam would come back to him; he’d stopped his brother from closing the gates of Hell so he wouldn’t die. Hell, it went all the way back to the fact that Dean couldn’t even go look for their dad on his own. He just had to go to Stanford and make Sam come join him on his wild-goose chase. Drag him away from the life he had built for himself.

It was no surprise really that nobody stayed. Who would want to be tied to Dean’s unstable ass anyway?

A watery smile found its way onto Dean’s face.

Well, at least you got out, Cas. At least you finally got away from me. I’m no good to anybody and I’ve never been any good to you. I  treated you like shit the entire time. Never gave you the benefit of the doubt even when all you were doing was try and do the right thing.

Fuck, the right thing is what I told you to do time and time again and somehow I still got upset with you even though you were just doing what I taught you. Or what I thought I taught you, anyway. Not like I know right from wrong anymore.

Man, you didn’t even do it to stroke your ego, not once. Your heart’s always been in the right place and I punished you for it.

Dean took a deep breath, flinching as the memories came rushing in.

I yelled at you and I beat you up for it and I sent you away and I let you leave just because I couldn’t deal with how I felt. Just ‘cause I couldn’t make heads or tails with you and needed to protect my stupid heart and push you away. Now look what I’ve done. By protecting myself I’ve sacrificed you. Sacrificed your happiness.

God, that’s what loving me gets you, I guess. Gets you dead.

Dean let his head fall back against his pillow and closed his eyes. He just wanted to escape this reality for a while. Or longer.

He dreamed. Or well, had a nightmare. Naturally. Because reality wasn’t scary enough so the monsters had to follow him into unconsciousness.

Looking around the field he was standing in, Dean knew it looked vaguely familiar. Trees were lying all around him – wait, what? He wasn’t much into nature and all but even he knew trees weren’t supposed to lie on the ground.

Before he could figure out why this place looked so familiar Dean felt a hand on his right shoulder. Backing away and spinning around, he reached for the gun he always carried tucked into the waistband of his jeans but could only grabbed air.

Not that there was anyone there to point the gun at anyway.

Dean turned this way and that but no one was there.

Feeling weirded out he made his way to the edge of the clearing he got dropped in. Only after a few minutes he realized he hadn’t made any progress. He was at the same spot he’d started in. Frowning, he changed the direction and tried again. And again.

Nothing changed except for the sun that had been burning high in the sky but was now setting, making way for a moon whose light was suppressed by a thick wall of clouds.

The hunter started to get nervous. He still couldn’t figure out where he was and he couldn’t get out of here. His head snapped around when a branch broke behind him.

It was difficult to make out what shadows were trees and what weren’t but what he could see terrified him.

Eyes were staring at him out of the distant line of trees, glowing red.

All of a sudden Dean knew where he was.

The clearing he’d woken up in was the same one where he climbed out of his grave all those years ago after he’d gotten saved from the torture in Hell. Where he got dragged to by hellhounds.

The same hellhounds that were glaring at him, closer now than just a moment before.

Dread found its way into Dean’s body. His chest felt tighter, his lungs couldn’t process the air he sucked in, his palms got clammy and sweaty.

Dean knew he needed to run, now and far away at that but he couldn’t bring his feet to move.

He stood, paralyzed and could only watch with terror as a dozen or so of the demonic creatures made their way towards him, seemingly not in a hurry. Their prey wasn’t going anywhere so why rush?

Trying to swallow the anxiety that rose in Dean’s throat like bile, his eyes darted around the forest, looking for some way out of this hell.

But it was just trees and dead grass and he couldn’t move his legs.

Every inch the hounds moved forward, Dean felt closer to passing out. He couldn’t get enough air into his lungs, his heartbeat was pounding in his ears and his sight started to darken around the edges. He’d have done anything to just pass out into blackness.

As the first hellhound reached him, nothing to see except for a shadowy figure and those damn red eyes, Dean felt the hand around his shoulder again and got pulled back by it abruptly.

And not a second too soon as the hellhound had opened its mouth and was burying its sharp teeth into what just a moment ago would have been Dean’s thigh.

He didn’t need to imagine how that would have felt. He’d lived it before and it was anything but pleasant.

Now however, Dean was staring at the back of a tan trench coat. Tousled black hair got even messier as the angel in front of him fought off the hounds with his angel blade, making quick process of three of them causing the others to growl deeply before fleeing the scene, deciding to get their dinner elsewhere.

All the while Dean could just stare at the person before him.

“Cas? That you?”

Rigid shoulders tense from the fight relaxes slowly before Castiel turned around with a smile on his face.

“Hello, Dean.”

The hunter couldn’t believe his eyes and inched forward slowly, his hand raised to touch Castiel’s face. He had to make sure his angel was real, that he was alive and well.

But the angel didn’t let him get that far.

He grabbed his wrist before it could make contact with his skin. In a matter of seconds his entire demeanor changed.

Gone was the soft smile, the fond expression on his face. He was grinning now but it was a nasty grin. A malicious one that Dean had only ever seen on his face when the Leviathan were possessing him or when Lucifer had controlled his body. Dean froze in his movements and it felt like his veins were filling up with ice.

“No, no, no. This can’t be happening. I can’t do this again. Please.” Dean didn’t realized he was begging until he heard the choked sob as his voice broke at the end of it.

The smirk on Castiel’s face got wider. “Oh, but Dean, it is! You wanted me back, didn’t you? Well, here I am! This is what you wanted.” His left hand still holding Dean’s wrist in a death grip that cut off the blood supply to his fingers, Castiel lifted the other hand to wrap it around Dean’s throat, squeezing tightly.

The hunter shook his head over and over, as much as he could in the hold of the angel.

“No, no, no…” He couldn’t form proper sentences, had given up on trying to reason with Castiel before he even started. He just wanted to slip into unconsciousness; he couldn’t bear to look at the angel when he had this expression on his face. Dean just kept rolling his head left and right and sobbed as much as he could with what little air he had left.

“You know, I never should have saved you from Hell, Dean. You never deserved it. You were so weak. I mean, what was it, 30 years? Before you couldn’t take it anymore and had Alastair take you off the rack.” The hold on Dean’s throat got even tighter and he started gasping for air that would never fill his lungs. “Before you decided that you’d get to deal out the pain now and torture other people. Even your deadbeat dad lasted longer and he never broke. Three times as long as you, Dean, don’t you realize? You are weak. You are worthless. You are nothing. Especially not to me. Did you really think an angel of the Lord could love your pathetic ass? Please. Cry me a river.”

Dean was helpless as Castiel pulled him close to his face. Their noses were touching and Dean could see the venomous look in his eyes. “I saved you, I gave you everything and more. I fell for you, Dean. I became one of you pathetic little monkeys and you never repaid me. I should have left you to rot in Hell like you deserved.”

Castiel’s eyes widened and the corners of his mouth turned up as if he’d just had a brilliant idea. “In fact, you know what? I can arrange that. I’m going to throw you back in there so you’ll finally get what you deserve.”

With the last bit of energy Dean could summon he started struggling. Panic was flaring up in him. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything much but plead in his mind, hoping it would reach Castiel in a prayer. Not there. No, please don’t take me back there. Anything but - please no-

It was of no use. Castiel gave him one last vile sneer before he threw Dean on the ground.

Bracing himself for pain to shoot up his back on the heavy impact, Dean was shocked when it didn’t happen. Instead he fell into a never ending black hole, letting the sweet promise of nothingness swallow him as he finally lost consciousness, the last thing he saw the image of the evil contortion of the man he loved staring after him as he plummeted.

With a gasp that resounded in the quiet room, Dean woke up.

He dove for the lamp and almost pulled it out of the plug in the wall as he tried to turn it on with shaky hands.

When finally light flooded the room, Dean sat up and looked around frantically, his heart in his throat. He knew he was shaking like a leaf, could feel the mattress vibrate beneath him. His eyes didn’t stop darting around, expecting the hellhounds to tear through the thin wood of the door any second. Or that horrifying echo of –

No.

When nothing happened even after minutes of panic, the hunter closed his eyes. Just a nightmare, nothing more. You’re okay, it wasn’t real. You’re okay. Dean forced himself to relax. Breathing in as slow as he could manage, he made his shoulders lose the tension. Just a dream. He breathed out. Just a dream.

Still disoriented, Dean let his head fall into his hands. So much for a peaceful sleep.

As his ears slowly stopped ringing from adrenaline, the sounds of quiet music filled them instead. Lifting his gaze, his eyes fell to his headphones that lay discarded by the foot of his bed, the cable tangled in his sheets. He must have torn them from his head when he’d woken up.

Dean tried to keep his breathing steady as he listened to the last chords of The Rain Song play into the night before it stopped, the last song on the mix tape coming to an end.

“Should’ve just told him how I felt. He’s a damn angel, ‘course he wouldn’t get what a mix tape’s supposed to mean,” Dean muttered to himself. “Idiot.”

Thinking back to the nightmare, Castiel’s voice repeated in his mind, Did you really think an angel of the Lord could love your pathetic ass? Dean felt his eyes well up again. He rubbed at them angrily.

“Enough with the crying already, what am I, a twelve year old girl who got dumped by her crush?”

The tears didn’t stop though.

I’m going to throw you back in there so you’ll finally get what you deserve.

Maybe it was what he deserved though. He’d saved some people, sure, but how many died for him? How many people had Dean sacrificed for Sam or for Castiel? Maybe this was karma finally coming for him. Maybe Castiel had to die so Dean could atone for his sins. God knows he had too many of those.

Since the music had stopped, Dean’s sobs echoed through the silence of his room.

When his back started to hurt from sitting hunched over Dean settled onto his side, turning off the light again. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep but if Sam went by his room and saw the light creeping out under the door he would knock and ask if he was okay and Dean just couldn’t deal with his brother right now.

So there Dean laid, wallowing in his usual self-hatred, his sorrows and regrets and waited.

For the morning to arrive, for death to come, he didn’t care. He just wanted to be dramatic some more, sue him.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, staring at the alarm clock sitting on his nightstand. The neon green numbers seared into his retinas until he could see their image every time he blinked.

He flinched hard when his phone rang, loud and high pitched. He ignored it. Whatever it was, it could wait until morning. Dean really wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, whether it was a friend or someone who needed him to pretend he was FBI.

It rang again shortly after that so Dean buried his head under a pillow and waited for it to stop.

When it happened the third time, he sat up abruptly in his bed. Fumbling for it on the table next to him for a moment before realizing it had fallen to the ground at some point during the night, Dean dove under his bed to pick it up.

Unknown number.

He swiped at the screen and yelled “What?” in a voice hoarse from crying before the phone was even pushed to his ear.

“Dean?”

Dean froze. “No. No, no, no. Not again,” he whispered before he twisted his arm back and threw the phone at the far wall. It shattered into little pieces. Good.

The hunter buried his face in his bent knees, disregarding every breathing exercise Sam had ever tried to teach him and started hyperventilating. This can’t be happening. Why do monsters keep fucking with me? First Lucifer, now… Whatever the fuck that was. Hell, maybe it was Lucifer. Maybe he’s back somehow. Wouldn’t even be surprised at this point. But why do they need to keep using his voice?

Amidst Dean’s frenzy there was a low sound from his desk drawer for a short moment before it started playing a joyful sounding melody.

He tried to ignore it but it got louder and louder and didn’t stop so at last he lunged to the floor, ripped the drawer open and nearly out of its hinges and grabbed the phone he almost couldn’t see through his tears.

“For fuck’s sake, you son of a bitch. I don’t care who you think you are, just stop this! Stop torturing me like this, damnit!” he shouted into the microphone, uncaring if Sam would come running in a minute.

Breathing heavily, Dean almost didn’t hear the reply.

“What are you talking about? Dean, it’s me, it’s Cas. I’m back,” came Castiel’s confused voice, sounding tinny through the crappy speaker.

Dean broke down onto the floor, one hand braced on the cold ground, the other clasping the plastic with so much force that it was quivering in his grip as if he could hold onto Castiel’s voice this way. He knew it wasn’t real but he couldn’t help basking in that gravelly voice for a moment.

It got too much though. He needed this to end.

With a whispered “No, you’re not” Dean hung up the call, turned off the phone quickly and lay down on his bedroom floor, letting the tears fall. This was starting to become a habit.

Despite the sobbing wreck that he was, Dean chuckled to himself, the sound devoid of any humor.

Guess I’m having a psychotic break now. Hallucinations, that’s a new one. Not that surprising though if you think about it.

Decades of unaddressed trauma, from his abusive upbringing over 40 years in literal Hell and being confronted with all kinds of monsters, being used by an archangel to losing so, so many people without any time to properly process any of it, no one could be surprised that Dean Winchester was now hallucinating his angel calling.

Honestly, this was par for the goddamn course.

Nodding off into a state of half-awake, half-asleep, Dean didn’t know how much time passed as he stayed on the cold hard floor. Night must have gone and passed the torch to morning, he figured, as Sam’s loud, annoying alarm filled the room on the other side of the hallway, a noise that Dean usually gave him shit for.

He listened, only barely conscious, as Sam got up, shuffled his way to the kitchen to turn on the noise coffee maker and back down the hall to the bathroom. When the shower stopped its monotone noise and petered out into an irregular dripping Sam went back to his room again shortly before the muffled steps became more distant as he made his way to the war room. After the loud thump of the bunker door faded out the comforting sounds of his baby brother getting ready for his morning run stopped and Dean was once again alone with the silence.

Dean must have dozed off at last, his body finally giving in to the need to pass out because he shot upright disoriented from his shallow slumber when the heavy bunker door slammed open against the wall behind it. He didn’t think much of it except Have some consideration for the people who aren’t crazy enough to go sweat their balls off before 7 am, maybe, for fuck’s sake until he heard Sam hurrying down the metal staircase through the thin wood of his door, each step accompanied by a resounding clank.

He faintly heard his brother yell his name and sat up groggily, rubbing the little sleep he’d gotten out of his eyes. Judging by the pounding of heavy footsteps coming in the direction of his room, Dean figured something had happened. He let his head fall back against the wall with a thump.

Jesus, can we ever catch a break? What is it now? He chuckled. Hell, maybe it is Jesus. Wouldn’t even surprise me anymore.

Something in Dean’s back made a grating cracking sound in symphony with his kneecaps as he pushed up off the floor to meet Sam in the hallway. He’d really gotten too old to spend the night on the floor, he thought with a scrunched up face.

“Dean! Dean, come here, you won’t believe it!”

The door flying open, Dean almost got squashed by his brother’s enormous body, just barely able to step back before crashing into him. “Alright, alright, slow down. What is it, Sasquatch?”

“Cas. He’s back.”

Dean froze in the middle of stretching his arms above his head. Sam said something more, started rambling about what had happened but Dean didn’t hear him over the blood rushing in his ears. His eyes searched Sam’s face but found nothing but open delight. Then he noticed the arm gesturing in the vague direction of the war room and Dean was pushing his way around Sam and was running before he even realized it.

The hallway was short enough but in this moment it stretched endlessly as Dean raced through it. There were a thousand thoughts going through his head but at the same time none at all. The only one that mattered was Cas.

Stumbling over the step leading up to the room, Dean had to grab the side of the doorframe for balance and came to a screeching halt there.

His breaths coming out irregular and harsh, Dean had to lean onto the wall now to avoid falling over.

Looking like he’d always been sitting there, wearing the usual suit and tie and the familiar crumpled trench coat, there he sat, not a hair out of place – well, except for the perpetual bed head so really, no hair was ever really in place.

“Cas?”

Dean’s voice broke on the lone syllable but he couldn’t care less when Castiel looked up from the table and gave him a small smile.

“Hello, Dean.”

Shaking his head in disbelief but unable to keep his feet from moving, Dean crossed the room and stood on the other side of the table.

“It’s really you, right? This time? It’s not fake?”

Castiel stood up slowly. Hands raised as if to show that he wasn’t dangerous, he said in a gentle voice, “No, Dean. It’s really me, I promise. I got out of the Empty and I really am back.”

That was it. That was as long as Dean could hold out before rounding the table and coming to a halt in front of his angel. Hesitating only a second, his hand suspended in midair, Dean thought to himself, ‘If this is some sort of trick again, I’m gonna lose it. I couldn’t take it.’ Then he put his hand on Castiel’s shoulder and sighed with relief as his lips split into a wide grin.

“You’re real. You’re really real.”

Castiel barely had the time to chuckle at Dean’s eloquent phrasing before he was pulled into a hug. They clung to each other, hands fisted into tan fabric and flannel, as if their life depended on it. Dean dramatically mused that for him this might as well have been true.

Giving himself just a second to bury his head in Castiel’s neck, Dean whispered into dark hair, “Fuck, man, I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you? I think that’s a bit of an understatement, Dean,” came the amused voice of Sam behind them.

They let each other go but stayed close together, neither of them wanting to move too far away.

Dean didn’t bother to answer. His mind had just stopped completely and he was still waiting for it to reboot. All he could do was stare at the angel who smiled amused.

Sam watched Dean’s reaction for a moment with a grin before he rolled his eyes. “C’mon, let’s sit down so you can explain what the hell happened, Cas.”

Afterwards Dean would neither remember pulling out a chair and sitting down next to Castiel, nor accepting the cup of coffee Sam had to have given him but it must’ve happened at some point as the three of them were now sitting around the war room table as if none of them ever left.

He only came back to his senses when Sam cleared his throat and asked, “So what happened? How did you come back?”

Castiel looked down at the steaming coffee he was holding as he recounted, “You need to know first that when the Empty took me I had lost most of my grace so I was basically human at that point.”

Dean’s eyes almost bulged out of his head. “What? Why did you never tell me?”

Castiel turned squinted eyes on him, slightly annoyed that he was interrupted not even two sentences into his story. “I did tell you my powers were fading but I suppose there was so much happening that I never really found the time to explain just how little grace was left.”

Dean sat back into his chair. “Huh.”

With a glance back at him that warned him not to cut him off again, Castiel continued, “I don’t know how long I was in there but I know I was asleep for some time. But then something woke me up. I wasn’t sure what it was at first but I found that unlike last time I came to in the Empty I wasn’t alone. There were hundreds or thousands of angels and demons there, awake and wandering around. I tried talking to some of them but they were like zombies. Some more than others but most of them said the same thing: Everyone who’d ever been cast into the Empty had woken up and the Empty was angry.”

Sam made a thoughtful sound into his mug. “So that’s what it meant when he told Jack that he’d ‘made it loud.’”

“Yes, I suppose so. I tried to find someone I know, Gabriel or Meg or even Crowley or Ruby but there were so many of them. So I looked for a way out. But the Empty, it’s … Well, it’s nothing. It’s pure, black, never ending nothingness. And then …” Castiel spun his chair around to face Dean who had been listening with his mouth slightly open the entire time. He snapped it shut with quickly with the clanking noise of his teeth grinding together. “Then I realized what it was that woke me in the first place. It was you, Dean. The Empty was weakened by Jack exploding in there so your prayers could slip through the cracks.”

Dean scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion. Prayers? “But I didn’t pray to you.”

“Perhaps not with intention. But prayers don’t have to be explicitly signified as such. A strong longing would suffice for it to reach me.” He smiled fondly at Dean whose ears started burning hot before he turned to face Sam again. “I realized I needed to get back to Earth. I didn’t know what was happening here or if you needed help. I didn’t even know if I could be of help, I just knew I had to get back. But I couldn’t find the entity I had annoyed into letting me go last time – not that it would have let me, not this time. So I did the only thing that I could think of.” Castiel took a deep breath and spoke his next words to the mug on the table. “I ripped out my grace and before I knew what was happening, I found myself waking up in a field.”

There was silence in the bunker for a moment. Nothing made a sound, not even the noisy pipes that usually never shut up.

Sam didn’t know what to say. His jaw hung open in an incredulous expression but he kept quiet.

Not realizing what he was doing, Dean jumped to his feet, towering over Castiel. “You what?!”

Flinching upon the sudden yelling, Castiel turned his face up to look at Dean irritated. “I got out of the Empty and I’m human now. What would you have had me do, Dean?”

Gesturing wildly with his hands, Dean’s voice only grew louder. “I don’t freaking know, Cas, but you didn’t even know if it would work! I mean, Hell, ripping out your grace? That’s not something you just do on a typical Sunday afternoon! What were you thinking?”

Standing up now to meet Dean’s heated glare with the calm air of someone used to this sort of behaviour, Castiel levelled him with his eyes. “I was thinking that you were hurting and that I had to come back from the dead, again, to check if you were alright.”

Dean shrunk back marginally, his eyes flying to stare at Castiel’s dress shoes. “But you’re human! You shouldn’t have-“

“Yes, Dean, I’m human now. And I am fine with that.”

His eyes jumped back up to search the angel’s – well, the former angel’s – for the truth. Seeing only genuine composure Dean gave a small nod. “Okay. Okay. I guess … as long as you’re okay with it.”

He sank back down into his chair. You’ve made him sacrifice himself for you and now you made him come back to you without his mojo. Great job, Winchester. He cringed at the bitter words his brain provided him with.

“Well, I for one, am really happy you’re back, Cas. Wasn’t the same without you.” Always the pacifist, Sam stepped around the table with big steps and wrapped Castiel in one of his bear hugs. Castiel’s response, muffled somewhere between hair and plaid fabric, got lost on its way to Dean but Sam reacted with laughter.

When they pulled apart, a growling noise came from their position and all three men looked down at Castiel’s stomach with surprise.

“Alright, enough talking. There’s still some pizza left in the fridge, I’ll go get it.”

And so Dean and Castiel were alone for the first time since the Empty had come for the angel. For the first time since Castiel’s confession.

The silence that hung between them as they sat next to each other, both avoiding eye contact, wasn’t exactly an awkward one but it certainly wasn’t comfortable either.

Shifting around in his seat, Dean racked his brain for something to say. It wasn’t like there was a shortage of things to talk about but in that moment he couldn’t think of anything. Thankfully Castiel relieved him of the decision as he sat up straight and began quietly after he cleared his throat, “Dean, on the way here Sam told me about what Lucifer did. Tricking you like that … It’s no surprise you reacted like that when I called you. I want to apologize for that.”

Dean kept his eyes on his beer bottle as he replied. “Nah, Cas. It’s all fine. Just … triggered some bad memories or whatever but I’ll pull through, don’t worry.”

One corner of the angel’s mouth pulled down disapprovingly as he grabbed Dean’s left shoulder.

Dean’s body went rigid as he couldn’t do anything but stare at the hand.

Goodbye, Dean.

It echoed in his head, again and again while the memory of being shoved to the side while black goo devoured his best friend played in his mind.

Goodbye, Dean.

He couldn’t snap out of it until Castiel’s hand slid down to his elbow. Dean’s gaze wandered to Castiel’s face and took in the pained expression that quickly turned into an apologetic frown.

“You’re not fine, Dean. My calling you put you through pain that you do not deserve. And I am truly sorry for that.”

Dean scoffed incredulously as he took a sip from his beer and tried to regain his composure. “Dude, you just came back from the dead for the – I don’t even know how many times that’s been now. I couldn’t care less about some crying with you sitting here right now. Who cares for a little more trauma on the PTSD cake?”

A beat of silence. “You … cried? About me?”

Dean picked at the label of his beer bottle, ripping off a piece of paper and rolling it between his fingers. “Well you just got swallowed by some weird otherworldly slime. ‘Course I’d cry a little. What’d you think.”

A voice from the kitchen interrupted his rambling, “Don’t listen to him, Cas. He was full on acting like a heartbroken widow, crying and sobbing and drinking himself into oblivion, the whole nine yards!”

Feeling a flush creep up from his chest, Dean shouted, “Shut up bitch!” before quieting down again, looking at his socked feet. “So I’ve missed you. Sue me.”

When Castiel didn’t answer Dean finally lifted his head only to duck it back down when he couldn’t stand the soft, open affection on the angel’s face.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

He tilted his head. “Like what, Dean?”

“Like-“ That little shit. He vaguely gestured at the man next to him with his hand. “Like that! Just stop it!”

Castiel didn’t answer. They both knew they had to talk about the elephant in the room at some point but neither wanted to be the one to breach the topic. And besides, with Sam bursting in as usual at any moment, this probably wasn’t the best time anyway.

Dean cleared his throat when the silence became too much and turned his head to grin at his friend. “So wait. What you were saying with your little bedtime story earlier is that my prayers saved you.”

Castiel squinted his eyes at him, his head tilted in confusion as he didn’t understand where Dean was going with this. “Yes, Dean, I’ve explained as much.”

The grin on the hunter’s face only got wider and he shrugged a shoulder in an attempt to look nonchalant. “So essentially, what happened is that-“ He had to let out a chuckle, already way too proud of what he was going to say and dropped his voice an octave. “I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.”

Castiel looked at him with the most dead expression Dean had ever seen. Blinking at him slowly he just stared at him in slight disbelief. “I’m already starting to regret ever coming back.”

But Dean knew him too well after over a decade and could see the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. And he was right, too as the smile made its way onto Castiel’s face when Dean broke out in laughter, proud of his extraordinarily funny joke.

“Regret already? That’s gotta be a new record.” Sam came back into the room with three plates and a box of pizza, setting all of it down on the table before distributing beer to everyone.

Dean raised an eyebrow but took the bottle with a nod. “Isn’t it like 8 in the morning?”

“Don’t pretend as if you care. Besides, we got Cas back, Chuck is gone, everyone who got Thanos-snapped is home safe. I say we celebrate a little.” He shrugged his shoulders.

Dean tilted his head at him in assent, “Can’t argue with that logic.”

Castiel reached across to take a plate from Sam and load it up with day old pizza. “Thank you, Sam. I’ve been starving since I woke up in that field. I’m just glad the Empty threw me out in Kansas and not on a different continent.” He took a contemplating bite and continued around his full mouth. “That would have been inconvenient.”

The dry tone of his voice made the brothers laugh.

“Shit, Cas. We’ve really missed you.” For once Dean didn’t feel any embarrassment as he vigorously nodded in agreement with Sam.

All three men scarfing down pizza as though they haven’t eaten in days – which really was true only for one of them, the others just acted as if they were raised in a barn, as usual – Sam brought Castiel up to speed on what he’d missed since his spontaneous trip into the afterlife.

Dean had tuned out early on, only hearing scraps of what was being said. “Lucifer offered his help … Realized Michael was gonna turn sides … Let Chuck beat us up a bit … Killed them both … Jack absorbed his mojo … Now human … Didn’t kill him though … Now Jack’s God … But don’t worry, Dean bullied him into still coming over for dinner …”

He’d been there. He’d lived it, he didn’t need the cliff notes so Dean occupied himself by staring at Castiel’s face as he was eating and sipping on his beer after he finished off the last piece of pizza. Dean couldn’t believe the angel – former angel, whatever, he didn’t care about specifics – was actually back. He had been convinced this would be it. He’d be gone for good. No do-overs this time. The hunter still believed he would wake up any moment in his bed but it never happened. He couldn’t believe his luck that he would get to continue the conversation Castiel had so conveniently finished by dying.

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? That conversation had to happen at some point. Dean didn’t know how he felt about that. He knew how he felt about Castiel, of course. But actually saying it out loud? Expressing his emotions and putting them into words? It terrified him. He wasn’t good at that stuff. He would mess it up, say the wrong thing, as he always did. He’d drive Castiel away just when he’d gotten him back. And anyway, who was to say that this was what the angel wanted? Just because he’d told him that he loved him, didn’t mean anything. For one, he was an angel – had been an angel, whatever. Dean didn’t even know if the love Castiel felt for him was the same kind Dean had been silently carrying around with him for years. Besides, a lot had changed after he’d said that. He was human now, for Christ’s sake! Who was to say that he didn’t change his mind after getting puked out of the Empty? He wasn’t –

“Dean? Could you please stop staring at me like that? It’s making me uncomfortable.”

Dean jumped when his spiralling thoughts were interrupted by the voice next to him. “W-What?”

Sam broke out in laughter across the table which Dean responded to with his middle finger. Then he turned to Castiel again. “I’m just giving you a taste of your own medicine. That’s what I’ve been feeling like for the last twelve years!”

The bitch face the angel gave him at that rivalled Sam’s.

“I need to use the bathroom,” he announced and marched down the hallway, mumbling something about never getting used to all this urinating.

Staring after Castiel, Dean couldn’t help but make sure one more time. “It’s … It’s really him, right? It’s Cas and he’s real and he’s here, yeah?”

Sam’s expression softened at the unfamiliar uncertainty written all over his brother’s face. Dismay and doubts obviously stormed under the surface. The anxiety coming off of him was almost tangible.

“It’s the real Cas, Dean. He’s back and he’s fine and now he’s safe, too.” A tiny smile settled on Sam’s face. “We finally caught a break, dude. We did it, we got everyone back – including Cas! We defeated Chuck, Jack’s the big boss now, Rowena is running Hell. This is good, Dean. It’s been years since the tide’s turned in our favour like this and damnit if we don’t deserve it.”

Still not entirely convinced, Dean opened his mouth, no doubt to argue but Castiel beat him to it as he came back through the doorway, a little unsure on his feet on the way to his seat.

“You know, it is very cumbersome that humans get drunk this easily. I drank an entire liquor store once and barely felt it but three beers as a human and I feel dizzy.”

Raising his beer bottle pointedly, Dean responded, “Well, takes years and years of practice but give it some time and beer will go down like water” while at the same time Sam shot him a doubtful look, “Barely felt it? Dude, you were full on wasted.”

Castiel looked at the both of them with squinted eyes, none of their answers were to his liking. He let it go though in favour of complaining some more. “And don’t even get me started on the peeing! It doesn’t make sense! Why does it feel like beer goes straight to my bladder?”

“That’s ‘cause it does, Cas. Beer doesn’t follow the laws of nature. Beer is its own force of nature.”

Sam scoffed. “Where’d you pull that bullshit from, Nietzsche?”

“I am extremely wise, Samuel. Don’t undermine my intelligence.” Dean smirked at him lavishly.

“There’s nothing to undermine, Dean. Nothing at all.”

Castiel looked at the brothers with a fond expression on his face. He hadn’t realized it in the Empty considering he was asleep for the first part and had spent the second trying to find a way out but he’d missed this. The arguments, the well meant bickering between family. He was glad to be back.

They’d ended up sitting at the table for a long time, just talking. It hadn’t been that long a time that Castiel had been away but the events of the past weeks hadn’t exactly allowed for a lot of time to hang out and enjoy each other’s company. So that’s what they caught up on.

As the beer bottles accumulated on the table, Dean had become quieter and quieter. Looking over at his brother when there was a lull in the conversation he and Castiel had been having, Sam realized Dean had nodded off at some point, his head hanging between his shoulders in an awkward angle, eyes closed shut and mouth slightly open.

He turned to Castiel again with a chuckle. “Well, I should get going. I got plans with Eileen but I’ll bring her around for dinner so we can hang out some more?”

The angel nodded, “Of course, Sam. I look forward to seeing her again. I’m happy she’s back. I know you took it really hard when she disappeared.”

“Yeah, me too. I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done if she didn’t …” A sad look flashed over Sam’s face before it quickly turned into a happy smile that made him look like an excited puppy. “I’m just happy things have turned out well for us for once. And now with you back? It’s damn near perfect.”

Coming around the table, Sam pulled Castiel up off his chair and into another hug. With a gesture to Dean he quietly told him, “Get him into bed, will you? He hasn’t been sleeping much and the few times that he did … Well, if the yelling in the middle of the night meant anything, they were nightmares. And bad ones at that. Heard him all the way down the hallway in my room.” Sam let go and looked at his brother, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “He’s not doing great, Cas.”

Examining the dark circles under the hunter’s eyes from afar, Castiel looked determined. “I’ll take care of him.”

Sam smiled fondly at the picture of his best friend worrying over his big brother. “I know you will.” They’ll be alright.

He turned away to grab his jacket from the table and climbed the stairs. Before he opened the door, he looked back down over the railing. “Hey, Cas?” He waited until the former angel turned his face up to him with a questioning head tilt. Sam smiled at him warmly. “Welcome home.”

Castiel gave him a wide grin in return as he turned and left the bunker.

The angel’s grin slipped into a frown again as he turned back to Dean and shook his shoulder a little, rousing the man from his light nap. “Come on, Dean, let’s get you to bed.”

The trip to the hunter’s bedroom was not an easy one – he wasn’t a small guy by any means and without his angel powers Castiel had to rely solely on his human strength and stubborn determination – but in the end he managed to get Dean to lie down in his bed, still half asleep.

He was about to turn off the light and leave the room when he heard shuffling out in the hallway. Spinning around and getting into a fighting stance in front of the bed, Castiel pulled his angel blade out of his coat. He didn’t know what he was expecting to appear but it was certainly not the light haired creature that came running into the room and jumped up on the bed without as much as glancing at Castiel.

Turning around perplexed, his confusion only deepened when Dean sat up slightly and buried his face in the dog’s neck. “Hey there, handsome. Sorry for not letting you in last night.”

“Uh, Dean?”

The hunter lifted his head with a relaxed smile before his mouth turned into an O shape. “Oh crap, I completely forgot!” Giving the dog a light shove in Castiel’s direction, the smile reappeared, wider and brighter than before. “Miracle, meet Castiel. Cas, this is Miracle. Found her after Chuck snapped everyone away but this little fella here didn’t make the cut. Well at first anyway. Took him back here when everyone came back and the little stray didn’t seem to have anyone.”

Castiel sat down on the foot of the bed and held his hand to the dog’s nose. “Hello, Miracle. You’re quite the beauty, aren’t you?”

Dean grinned at two of his favourite creatures interacting. So he’s sappy, what about it?

Satisfied with his sniffing, Miracle trotted over the bed a little to flop down in Castiel’s lap. “I think he likes you!” Dean proclaimed with laughter in his voice as he reached forward to pet his dog’s head.

Raising his hand slowly, Castiel gently stroked the soft fur of the adorable animal. “The feeling is mutual. Very much so.”

After several minutes of attention Miracle seemed to have been contented as he pushed up on his legs, gave Dean’s face a quick lick that he was too slow to dodge and jumped down to the floor to leave the room. Most likely in search of some snacks. He took after his dad in that regard.

Dean slumped back against the headboard of his bed yawning while Castiel looked around the room curiously. There was a disturbing amount of various liquor and beer bottles strewn around the floor and surfaces, most of them empty; dirty clothes and discarded books laid in heaps everywhere and there was a small pile near the door that Castiel needed a minute to identify to be a phone. Well, at least that’s what it used to be.

Rubbing a hand across his neck sheepishly, Dean let out a quiet sigh when the angel turned to him with an inquiring look. “Don’t even ask.”

Castiel opened his mouth to do so anyway, especially as the movement drew his attention to bruised knuckles but he changed his mind as he took in the fatigue that showed in Dean’s tense shoulders, his red rimmed eyes and the way he blinked too much.

“We need to talk.” Dean opened his mouth to speak but Castiel talked right over him. “We need to talk, but that can wait until tomorrow.”

Now looking like he was about to protest, the angel interrupted him once again. “Dean, you’re exhausted. Even without my grace I can see that. You need to sleep.”

Dean raised his hands in surrender, slipping down under the covers but hesitated before he got too comfortable. He chewed on his lip as he began in a low voice, “Can you – I mean, obviously you don’t have to but I would probably – and you still have your room of course, you’ll always have that but – I’m just…” Dean realized he was rambling – badly, too – when Castiel squinted his eyes at him, confusion all over his face. So he took a deep breath. “Could you maybe … Could you stay here? Just for tonight. I need … I just gotta make sure you’re real. And that you won’t disappear again.” His voice had turned into a whisper as he spoke, picking at threads in the blanket to avoid Castiel’s eyes.

“Oh, Dean. Of course.” The hunter looked up and took in the fond expression mixed with a sad little look in his eyes. Castiel stood up and sat down in the chair next to Dean’s bed while he settled onto his side, facing his angel.

Despite the numbers on the alarm clock suggesting that it was only just past noon, in the windowless bunker time seemed like the made up concept that it was. Meaningless, if you turned off the lights. So that’s what Dean did.

Feeling unconsciousness creeping closer the second his head hit the pillow, Dean forced himself to stay awake just for a bit longer. “Hey, Cas?”

At the affirmative sound somewhere in front of him, Dean continued, “Just wanted to say I’m real happy you’re back. Dunno if I got that across earlier. Guess I was a bit shell shocked seeing you.” His eyes stopped cooperating and slipped shut. “Gotta say, though, I figured gettin’ you back’d be harder. Read through every damn book we have on angels, front to back, twice and still couldn’t find a way. Not even Jack could help me. Really thought …” His words were slurring together increasingly now as he hurried to get the rest of the sentence out before he was dead to the world. “Really thought I lost you for good this time. Wasn’t fun. Don’t do that again, yeah?”

A low laugh rang across the room. “I’ll try not to. I promise.” Castiel’s deep voice carried over to Dean in a soft tone and he smiled in response, not realizing that the room was too dark for either to see. “Sleep well, Dean.”

But he had already slipped into the world of dreams.

 Dean shot up in bed, hitting his head on the wooden headboard in the progress. He knew he’d had a nightmare – they weren’t particularly rare these days – but at least he couldn’t quite recall all the details this time, only bits and pieces. Flashes of memories invaded his mind, real, year old memories that had been freshly dusted off to terrorize him within his dreams. Hellhounds tearing at his skin with their sharp claws, their long fangs sinking into his stomach and ripping through skin, muscle and blood away, dragging his soul to Hell and leaving his body behind in unrecognizable chunks; Dean, tied to the torturing rack in Hell, his guts hanging out of a deep, nasty cut in a bloody, stringy mess, the edges of the skin around it ragged from a dull blade.

He didn’t remember much aside from that but the pain he had been subjected to would never leave his memory.

The hunter pushed the balls of his hands into his eye sockets.

“Dean.”

Over his heavy breathing he almost didn’t hear the voice saying his name. He pulled away his hands only to quickly close his eyes against the harsh light flooding the room.

“Dean?”

He jumped when a hand settled on the crook of his elbow. Dean’s gaze shot over to the chair next to the bed and felt himself slumping over with relief.

“Cas.”

Waking up he’d immediately figured Castiel returning was just another figment of his imagination. To see him sit there, forehead creased as he leaned over – it was like the rain after months of drought.

“Fuck, man. You’re still here.”

Castiel regarded him questioningly with a head tilt.

Dean waved it off, lay back down. Castiel got the hint and turned the lights back off.

Darkness embraced the room. Immediately Dean’s anxiety returned. What if next time he woke up the angel wouldn’t be there? What if he wasn’t even there right now? Who was to say he wasn’t hallucinating? He knew his brain wasn’t the most reliable narrator. He didn’t know how elaborate hallucinations could be! How would he know –

A hand grabbed for his. Castiel must have heard Dean struggle for breath.

“There. Now you know that I’m here. Even in your sleep. I got you.”

Dean was too tired to even feel shame that Castiel had witnessed him basically have a breakdown. The events of the past weeks were catching up to him now that he had a moment of quiet and he fell back into a dreamless sleep within minutes, content in the knowledge that his angel was safe.

The next time he awoke it was much more gentle.

“Dean, Sam and Eileen are back and they’ve brought food.” That last word always peaked his interest so Dean opened his eyes slowly and stretched his arms above his head. Well, one arm. The other was still attached to Castiel’s fingers. Who still sat in the uncomfortable chair, his unoccupied hand holding a phone. That’s probably how he knew there was dinner ready without leaving the room.

The angel looked as tired as Dean had felt only hours before and he winced when he moved his head too quickly. This all confused the hunter. Castiel had been content to sit and wait for hours before, so why was he- With a start Dean understood the words from earlier that his drained mind hadn’t been able to comprehend. Castiel was human. And Dean let him sleep on the chair!

“Dude, why didn’t you say anything?” At Castiel’s puzzled face, Dean elaborated. “You’re human! And that chair isn’t all that comfortable. Especially not to sleep in.”

“I was more concerned for your state of mind, Dean. And it’s fine, it wasn’t too bad.” The crack coming from his neck when he looked back down at his phone betrayed him.

Dean knew that stubborn bitch face too well to continue arguing. It was a lost cause anyway. He would just have to make sure the angel would sleep in an actual bed tonight.

Letting it go and rubbing his eyes, Dean asked through a yawn, “What time is it anyway?”

“It’s after 6.”

The hunter paused. “In the evening? Why the hell didn’t you wake me? I’d have been fine after a little nap. And besides, you didn’t have to stay here the whole time.” He knew he had the hand lightly holding his to thank for the restful sleep he’d had but he felt bad knowing that Castiel was suffering back pain because of him.

“You looked peaceful and Sam told me you haven’t been sleeping well so I let you get some more rest.” Castiel shrugged his shoulders, as Dean grumbled into his three days of stubble.

“Well, Sam needs to stop his mother-henning. And don’t you let that rub off on you. Can’t have y’all ruining my manly reputation.”

The angel chuckled at that. “You mean the reputation of the guy who cooks homemade meals, raises his little brother, wears novelty socks and pants with hot dogs printed on them and likes watching Dr. Handsome?”

“It’s Dr. Sexy and you know it. I’ve made you watch enough episodes to know that you’re just trying to piss me off.”

Castiel only shot him a knowing smile.

“Hey, guys? Are you gonna come eat dinner or not? It’s getting cold!” Sam’s voice carried through the hallway.

At the promise of food Dean jumped out of the bed and was at the door before Castiel could even finish rolling his eyes.

Dinner went by in an easy going and casual manner.

Eileen had been excited to see Castiel again. Unprompted she had pulled him into a surprisingly strong hug considering her small size. Then again, she had been raised by a hunter and was capable of holding her own well, so what did he expect?

She and Sam had brought Chinese take-out for all of them which had earned Eileen another hug, though this time from Dean before he had flopped down into a chair and started piling up Chow Mein on his plate, a spring roll already stuffed into his mouth.

He hadn’t even noticed the three people shaking their heads at his behaviour.

They were all eating in comfortable silence when Dean noticed Eileen signing something to Sam and his brother replying. The hunter only knew the most rudimental of signs. He’d been meaning to learn but there was always an apocalypse or another happening. It was on the top of his to do list now though.

Looking to his left he noticed Castiel avoiding his gaze. Huh. Feeling left out of the conversation, his curiosity got the best of him.

Swallowing down his bite with a sip of his beer Dean gestured between his brother and his girlfriend. “Hey, no gossiping. What’re you two lovebirds talking about?”

Raising his eyebrows at Eileen who just shrugged her shoulders and reached for more chicken, Sam grinned at Dean. “We were just wondering if y’all have been talking at all since this morning.” The emphasis on the word talking left no room for misunderstanding and had Dean ducking his head and Castiel pushing his food around on his plate.

Not surprised at all at the constipated expressions, Sam chuckled. “I’ll take that as a No.” Then he dodged the napkin his brother threw at his head.

The conversation quickly moved on to a poltergeist hunt Eileen had been on at some point but Dean was now uncomfortably aware of the fact that at some point, Castiel and him would have to have the conversation he was dreading. He didn’t know what he was going to say and it scared the shit out of him.

Being physically affectionate with someone was easy. Especially if the person was only going to be in his life for one night. In, out, done. Easy.

But talking about his emotions? Expressing exactly what he was feeling?

God knows he’d never been good at it.

Dean reached for the sriracha sauce to pour over his noodles but wasn’t really paying attention. So of course, he missed the bottle, only grazed it with his arm and pushed it over to roll down the table. Expecting to have to clean up red sauce from the floor he was already almost standing when Eileen caught the bottle in a smooth motion and handed it over to him with a grin.

“Nice catch!” Sam said proudly while Dean signed a quick Thank You at her.

“Dean!” He turned to stare at Castiel at the reprimand in his voice, dumbfounded when he found himself the target of an irritated glare.

“What?”

Across the table Sam and Eileen were bursting out into laughter. Dean once again felt left out and looked around from one to the next, confusion written on his face.

After a moment, Eileen calmed down enough to explain. “The sign for ‘Thank You’ is this.” She placed her hand at her chin before moving it outward. Then she grinned at him. “What you did?” She repeated the sign Dean had made, similar to the one she’d demonstrated, but with the hand starting under her chin. “That one means ‘Fuck you.’”

Dean stared at her before raising his eyebrows approvingly and sipping his beer. “Good to know, actually. That’ll definitely come in handy.”

For some reason Eileen and Sam exchanged a smile at that that was way too loving for the topic of the conversation.

Eileen turned back from her boyfriend and cleared her throat. “So I’ve seen the Lord of the Rings box set in your … what was it? The ‘Dean Cave?’”

That’s all it took for Dean to beam brightly at her, swallow his food quickly so she would have an easier time reading his lips and jump right into an hour long conversation about elves, dwarves, dragons and orcs that Sam and Castiel spent mostly by just sending each other amused smiles and their respective love interest warmhearted glances.

“If you ever decide to try out LARPing, just gimme a call. Doesn’t matter what I’m doing, I’ll make time.”

Dean was leaning into the driver’s window and grinned at Eileen who he’d just finished chewing a ear off about his best friend Charlie – “No, not Apocalypse World Charlie,” he’d said, “The original one that was resident to our world before being murdered by nazi pieces of shit.”

Sam sat in the passenger’s seat, giving Dean an exasperated bitch face. “She’s got it, Dean. Will you please let us go now?”

Stepping back and raising his hands in mock surrender, Dean gave in. “Alright, don’t wanna keep you two care bears. Go get your beauty sleep. Or whatever else you’re gonna get up to.” He accompanied the last part with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Drive. Please just drive,” Sam pleaded with his puppy eyes and his girlfriend complied with a laugh and a wave to Dean.

Returning back inside after watching Eileen’s red car drive off, Dean found Castiel cleaning up their trash. “Here, lemme help.” Dean grabbed some plates and empty bottles and they made their way to the kitchen.

“Thank you,” Castiel said after they were done throwing food boxes and containers away and placing dishes in the sink to be dealt with another time.

Dean nodded distractedly. He looked at his feet and swallowed thickly. Then he rubbed his sweaty palms over his jeans and looked up at the angel with a determined look in his eyes. “Okay, let’s talk.”

Castiel had obviously not expected Dean to be the one to breach the subject if the genuine surprise on his face meant anything. To his credit though he quickly recovered and his face smoothed out as he nodded and held out an arm as if to say Lead the way.

Dean’s room was where they ended up. It gave the illusion of privacy even when no one else was in the bunker. Well, except Miracle but he was blissfully asleep in his bed in the library after having dinner and they didn’t want to disturb him.

“So,” Dean began slowly, tapping a finger on his desk and tracking the movement with his eyes to avoid making eye contact with Castiel who sat at the foot of his bed with his trench coat neatly folded beside him. Dean decided to start off rather easy. “When you said you heard me pray to you … What all did you hear? ‘Cause I wasn’t even aware I was praying at all.” Dean chewed on his bottom lip nervously. He’d said and thought a lot of things these past couple days. Not knowing what exactly had made the cut and got delivered over to the Empty and what hadn’t was a bit nerve-wracking.

“Honestly not that much at all. The Empty is weak but it still had something of a wall up that blocked out a lot. Mostly it was just … feelings that I could sense. Anger, sadness … Grief, I suppose. And defeat. Frankly that was what made me hurry up and try to find a way out. I’ve experienced you in a lot of ways, Dean. But I’ve always hated to see you hopeless.”

Dean shifted from one foot to the other, still not meeting Castiel’s gaze. “Yeah, well. Wasn’t much to have hope in. You were gone, Cas. And I couldn’t do anything about it. Believe me, I tried. Getting’ an angel outta the Empty isn’t as easy as Jack or Billie advertised. And the way you left?” Now he turned around to glare at the angel, bitter frustration coming back along with the slight burn of hot anger. “You can’t do that to a guy, Cas. You can’t just … Drop the L-bomb and then dip! It’s not cool, man. Did you even think about how that would make me feel?” Dean ran a hand through his hair and tried to cool down a little, to no avail. The feelings had been pooling at the bottom of his throat for a while and now they wanted out. “You sacrificing yourself is one thing. But in that way? Fucking awful, buddy. I’ve felt responsible for you dying, Cas. I walked around with this massive pit of guilt burning in my stomach and there was nothing I could do. Nothing.”

The hunter turned away from him to rub at his eyes. He was not going to cry. Breaking out in tears and sobs in the solitude of his room was one thing. But he wasn’t going to do that right now. Quietly he added, “You said you loved me and then you left me. And I get that you did it to save me and I’m grateful for that, I am but … Cas, this always happens. People say they care about me and then they leave me. No one stays and I’m left to pick up the pieces.” He spoke solely to his noodle-printed socks, not once looking up.

An astonished little Oh sound behind him that told Dean that Castiel hadn’t in fact thought about it this way. He let out a humorless chuckle. Of course he hadn’t. Castiel wasn’t as fucked up in the head that he’d think about it like that.

There was some shuffling and then Dean felt body heat at his back and a hand on his arm that gently coerced him to turn around and look Castiel in the eyes.

“Dean, I didn’t realize how this would look to you. How it would affect you.” A sad smile passed over his face. “To be honest, I didn’t have much time to think about anything considering Death was quite literally knocking down the door and it was the only plan I could come up with. This isn’t an excuse for what I’ve put you through with my decision though. I am so sorry, Dean.”

He nodded in response, his green eyes lowering themselves to Castiel’s tie. “I know you didn’t do it on purpose. I know you wouldn’t do that, Cas.” Dean huffed a quiet laugh. “Sammy says it’s all the trauma finally catching up to me. That’s why I’m such a mess.”

Castiel gave the arm he was still holding a squeeze, unsure what to say to that.

Dean stood silently for a while, just breathing in and out like Sam had once tried to teach him and focused on the light pressure of the hand wrapped around his upper arm to calm himself down before continuing with something that had been on his mind for a while.

“Did you really think … When you took that deal, what were you thinking? ‘Well I ain’t ever gonna be happy anyway so whatever?’”

“At the time I was mostly just thinking about how to save Jack. The Empty was going to take him but I knew it really wanted me since I was the one who woke it up. So I offered myself. I didn’t think about the consequences until later.”

Dean rubbed a hand over his face, irritated. “Have you not learned that making deals with monsters is never a good idea?”

“Don’t you try and lecture me. You’ve done it so many times. I made the right choice, I still believe that. And I would do it again.” The stubborn look had returned to the angel’s face and Dean knew he had to let it go if he didn’t want this to turn into a full blown fight.

“Okay, whatever. Just don’t do it again. Come talk to us before making deals with the devil next time.”

Castiel scoffed at that. The Hypocrite on the tip of his tongue didn’t have to be spoken out loud for them both to hear it.

They both stared into space for a while. Dean knew they were still tiptoeing around the main subject but he didn’t know how to start.

Once again, he needn’t have worried. Castiel saved the day once more by beginning to talk.

“Dean, about what I said before the Empty came to get me …” Dean’s breath hitched in his throat. His heart stopped beating for a moment before it started back up twice as fast. “I only said the things I did because I knew I would be gone. I never meant to make you uncomfortable but it was the only way I could think of that would save you.”

Instead of his heart it was now Dean’s brain that stopped cooperating. All he could do was stare dumbfounded at the mop of Castiel’s dark head where it was hanging down between his slumped shoulders. “I am aware that you don’t feel the same way and I would never expect you to. I just need you to know that. I hope this will not change how you see me. I’m perfectly happy with our friendship the way it is if you are okay with it, knowing how I feel. But I also don’t blame you if you aren’t. You just …” Dean’s heart broke a little for the man in front of him when his voice cracked. “All you have to do is tell me you’re uncomfortable with me being here and I’ll be on my way,” Casiel pressed out quickly, still not meeting Dean’s eyes.

Did he seriously still not get it?

With a disbelieving shake of his head Dean stepped into the angel’s space and waited silently for him to finally raise his head.

“Okay, dumbass. You listen to me right now. Up until like a week ago, I didn’t even know angels could feel that way. Even after you said it, I kept thinking, ‘Well, he probably meant it in a brotherly kinda way.’ I didn’t let myself think …” Dean paused. “Shit, Cas, this whole communicating thing isn’t easy for me.”

Castiel made to answer him but Dean held up a hand to stop him. He had to get it all out now before he chickened out once again.

“Think about it, Cas. I’ve looked for you in Purgatory for a year. I’ve wrapped you in blankets when you were under Rowena’s spell. I’ve made you sit on the couch with me and watch all my favourite movies. I make you coffee and breakfast even if it’s all just molecules to you. I make you dress up as a cowboy for me. Christ, I’ve made you a freaking mix tape!” Dean took a deep breath. He still couldn’t say it. There was no way he could speak the three little words out loud that he’d been running from his entire life. On the other hand he didn’t feel like a simple I love you would convey exactly what the angel meant to him. It was that, yes, but it was just so much more.

“Damnit, Cas. You told me I changed you but did it ever occur to you that you changed me, too? You pulled me outta Hell, sure. But after that you stuck around. I know I talk a big game of free will but honestly? You showed me what free will actually means. You showed me that there were things worth falling for, things that are worth turning your back to everything you know for.

You showed me over and over again that maybe – just maybe I am worth something. That maybe I was worth leaving a whole army of angels behind.”

The hunter looked down at his hands, shaking where they were curled into fists next to his body. Then he raised his gaze again because he had to make sure Castiel understood what he was saying. “You make me a better man because you hold me accountable when I make stupid decisions. And we both know I make a shitton of those. And then – unlike so many people in my life – you don’t just leave when the going gets tough. You allow me to change for the better. More often than not that takes me a while and I know it’s gotta be frustrating as hell. But you say ‘Here’s where you went wrong’ and then you say ‘Fix it. I’ll be here in the meantime but you gotta put in the work.’”

Dean stopped to take a breath and run his trembling fingers through his hair. The entire time Castiel had just been staring at him out of glassy blue eyes, red rimmed but never taking them off of him.

“Jesus, Cas. I could’ve killed Chuck. You know I’ve never had faith in any God and especially not in this one. He went and proved me right. I’ve been wanting to kill that son of a bitch for years but when it came down to it, I didn’t. I didn’t because you said I ain’t that person. And when you said that? I believed you.”

Forcing himself to be brave just for a little while longer, Dean inched forward a little and reached for one of Castiel’s hands. It was cold in Dean’s sweaty palm but he didn’t mind.

Both men looked down at their intertwined fingers when Dean continued, “I push you away all the time and I know that fucking sucks and I hate myself for how I’ve treated you after Mom – but there’s a reason for this. I’m not pushing you away for the fun of it. I’m pushing you away ‘cause I’m fucking terrified of what’ll happen if I don’t. You’re already the best friend I’ve ever had, Cas. I’m scared of what will happen if I let you be more than that.”

At last he looked up. Even after this whole speech, an entire monologue later, Castiel still didn’t look convinced. Looked like he didn’t want to let himself believe that he was hearing right. Dean understood, believe him, he did. But it didn’t help the frustration. He racked his brain desperately trying to come up with different phrasing to make the angel finally believe him, to no avail. Words were hard for him. The right words were almost impossible. He’d always been more of a show rather than tell guy.

Dean paused. He could just show Castiel what he was talking about.

So that’s what he did.

Slowly he stepped impossibly closer to the angel, gave him time to step back or stop him but all he did was look up at Dean in bewilderment. When the hunter raised his hand and carefully cupped Castiel’s face with it, he followed the movement until he went cross-eyes. The sight made Dean smile through the nerves.

Castiel’s blue eyes widened at the close contact as Dean lowered his head to press their foreheads together. “This okay?” he asked, his voice nothing more than a whisper that blew against Castiel’s chapped lips. There was only a tiny nod that Dean took as his cue to close his eyes and meet his lips in a soft, chaste kiss.

The delicate contact could barely count as a kiss. It wasn’t steamy, it wasn’t passionate. But it wasn’t meant to be. Dean was simply trying to convey, trying to make his angel understand what he felt without saying it out loud. Yes, he was a coward for it but there was only so much confrontation and heart-to-heart he could take in one day.

Realizing Castiel was still frozen against him, his lips unmoving, Dean pulled back. Of course he’d messed it up somewhere. It just wasn’t possible for him to actually make something like this work- He didn’t come far, neither with his self-deprecating thoughts, nor with his head before the other man reached around him and grabbed the back of his neck to bring him back down to him.

And suddenly he was kissing back.

It was a bit sloppy, it was unfamiliar and it took them a minute to find a rhythm. It tasted of beer and salty tears – whose, they would never find out. It felt right. It felt like coming home. It felt like the tension that had built up below the surface for twelve years finally broke free and was now slowly dissolving into thin air.

They pulled apart to catch their breath after a while of just exploring newfound possibilities. Dean took his chance and got out the last thing he had to say about this whole ‘declaring your undying love and then getting ganked into a different dimension’ thing.

“You can have me, Cas. You’ve always had me.”

Even after having been kissed, the angel’s mouth was still curled downwards in a doubtful manner. “Do you really mean that? I don’t … You’re not the only one with trust issues.”

Okay, true, Dean had kissed many people in his life time and meant little by it. He deserved that. But he was full of determination to make Castiel see he was speaking the truth. Even if it took him a while. So he smiled patiently, his fingers still stroking the other man’s stubbly cheek. “Good things do happen, Castiel.”

At the mention of his full name and the familiar phrase, there was really nothing for the angel to do but smile involuntarily.

It only took Dean until that night to doubt his decision. They’d gone to bed in their separate rooms, not long after their conversation. Castiel had been up for who even knew how many hours and was absolutely wiped and Dean was just as tired. Though his exhaustion probably came from baring his heart in this wholly unaccustomed way. That’s how he found himself lying in his bed staring at the ceiling, the only sound Miracle’s slight snoring.

There were doubts in his mind, not about his love for Castiel, not even about Castiel’s love for him – curiously that wasn’t what he worried about.

Instead of doing what he was familiar with – spending the entire night overthinking it and pulling apart every thread of the matter until there was nothing but loose stitches – Dean decided to do something else for once. Who knows, maybe this newfound want to communicate wasn’t that bad.

So he slipped out of his room, quietly to not wake his dog and padded over to Castiel’s room. Upon knocking he immediately cursed himself. The angel in fact wasn’t an angel anymore and actually needed sleep. And now he was robbing him of that, too.

Hoping that maybe he hadn’t heard, Dean turned around to return to his room and just do the whole worrying thing the old-fashioned way.

“Dean?” Dean stopped. Yeah, he knew that wouldn’t work.

He faced his angel, his heart filling with fondness at the way Castiel rubbed at the corner of his eye, hair all tousled and borrowed t-shirt and sweatpants creased. “Uh, hi.”

Castiel smiled wearily at him. “What’s wrong, Dean?”

And suddenly, his anxiety and all the thoughts returned and they just flew right out of the hunter’s mouth without filter. “We shouldn’t do this. Us, I mean. You and me. We can’t. In our line of work, this kinda thing always ends badly. Someone is gonna use this against us and one of us’ll get killed over it.”

Dean talked to a spot of dirt on the floor so he didn’t see Castiel’s face darken. His head only snapped up when he heard the furious tone of the angel’s voice. “You listen to me right now, Dean. I know you have an immense amount of commitment issues-“ He didn’t pay any mind to Dean’s protesting Hey! and talked right over him instead, raising his voice all the while. “but you do not get to decide this all on your own. You do not get to tell me all that you did and kiss me and then choose that you don’t want to go down that route after all.

I told you I was content with our friendship as it was but you decided against that. You don’t get to take that back right now just because you’re a little scared. So am I, Dean.” Castiel stepped closer as Dean took a step back only to hit the hallway wall with his back. He gulped. He’d never liked being at the receiving end of the angel’s death stares. “I don’t care if I die – again – as long as I can have this. Have you. It has been too long and in Sam’s words this has gotten ‘freaking ridiculous’ We deserve happiness. You do and I do as well. So get your head out of your ass.”

Human but somehow still looking like an enormous powerful celestial being, Dean couldn’t help but choke out a laugh that became hysterical quickly.

“What’s so funny?” Castiel scowled.

Dean gestured helplessly at him, rumpled clothes, bare feet, bed head and all while he tried to catch his breath and stop laughing. “You are. Former Angel of the Lord turned real boy telling me to get my head outta my ass? It’s freakin’ hilarious, man.”

Castiel still looked a little confused and as if he’d been excluded from playing soccer during lunch break but his face brightened at the improvement of Dean’s mood.

“Does that mean you’ll fulfil my request?”

Finally getting a hold of himself, Dean straightened up and sighed. He smiled up at his angel apologetically. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll get my shit together. As you said, we –“ he hesitated a second, not used to say anything positive about himself but trying anyway because this included Cas. “We deserve happiness.”

And if he didn’t return to his lonely bed and snoring dog that night, it was nobody’s business but their own.