Archive of Our Own

Nothing distinguishes memories from ordinary moments. Only later do they make themselves known, from their scars.

- I Remember Beirut by Zeina Abirached, a Lebanese graphic novelist

Dad is at the bunker. Get here as soon as you can.

Castiel read Sam’s text and pocketed his phone. He turned and headed for home.

***

When Castiel had found Dean in Hell, he was in pieces with a shattered soul. Castiel had slashed his way through Hell, losing more than half his garrison without looking back. Some had been in true form and some in vessels. Castiel had always felt too small, and oddly itchy, but many an angel kept a human host. He never cared for inhabiting people. 

Castiel had folded his form down several sizes to make his way through the oily ground surrounded by black tar walls. The air had been filled with the wailing and gnashing of teeth of the damned. He had slid through swamps, he had rolled through tunnels, he had let himself be absorbed into rough stone walkways to come out the other side. He had flayed fifty demons without thought, following Dean Winchester’s soul. It had called to him like a bird with its wings being torn asunder. He had found Dean Winchester with some poor fool on the rack. Dean had turned to Castiel with bloody eyes and a snarl of sharp teeth.

Darkness surrounded the soul Castiel had been searching for. Black as a demon leaving a human body. But inside all that thick, inky darkness had been a faint light. It had pulsed against its surroundings as if trying to break free. Dean had been in Hell too long. Castiel had failed in getting to the Righteous Man in time. He would not make such an error with Dean Winchester again.

Castiel had surrounded what was left of the mangled corpse of a once-great man with his true form. Castiel had turned to face what remained of his army and shimmered a warning sign before blasting angels and the demons with the bright light of his grace and Dean’s soul.

He had secreted Dean away in a corner of a ninety-year-old woman’s Heaven of walking the hills of Iceland in the spring. He had pushed nearly all of himself into Dean. He had stitched muscle and bone and nerves together. Castiel had healed every ailment Dean ever had, including arthritis and a, quite frankly, fatty liver. Castiel had pressed Dean’s shivering soul back in place and stayed lain against it for what may have been a day or a hundred years on Earth. Turned out even an angel could lose track of time. Eventually, the soul’s darkness had turned a milky gray, then into a ball of light blues and whites. The only thing he had been unable to do was remove the memories of Hell from Dean’s mind.

While executing his repairs, he had watched Dean’s life flow before him. Not linearly, but pieces that had been important to Dean’s mind, whether Dean realized it or not. His early childhood, to Mary Winchester’s death, to John Winchester’s mad quest, to John’s death, and to Dean’s current guilt.

He had thought he’d known Dean then. The next eleven years had proven him wrong. Dean was much more complex than he could have conceived.

Before placing Dean into the ground, he shaped a small part of himself into a human hand to show Dean—and all the angels and demons—that he had been gripped by an angel of the Lord and torn from Hell. The handprint matched that of one James Novak, a human whom Castiel had, as Balthazar put it, on retainer should he need a vessel. As the handprint seared into Dean’s skin, Castiel’s voice had boomed a verse from the book of Isaiah: “Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands; thy walls are continually before me.”

***

Sam intercepted Castiel outside the bunker.

“What’s going on?” Castiel asked, hurrying to the door.

“Dean made a wish—”

“A wish?”

“Yes, but hear me out, okay? It was meant to fulfill his heart’s desire, which should’ve been to get Michael out of his head. Instead…we got dad.”

Castiel paused, and the air felt displaced around him.

“John Winchester does not belong here.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, “no shit.”

“His presence will not last, it has caused time to become unstable.”

Sam huffed a laugh. “We’re familiar.”

“Is Dean alright?”

Sam ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t know. I mean…it’s dad. He’s a quarter bottle of whiskey deep and I don’t see this ending well. Mom’s here too. She just…walked in on all of it. They’re real happy to be together, but…”

“There is much Mary does not know about your childhoods.”

“Right. I’m hoping we can, ya know, keep the crappier parts under wraps for her sake? But, man, I don’t know how Dean’s gonna act. He’s a different person since dad died. Stronger. But anytime dad came around, Dean always…changed. Like he’s still that kid following orders; wanting to make him happy. Putting himself down under this bullshit hero worship he always had. I mean, he’s grown and I know he doesn’t care about that…not really…but face to face with dad could be a different story.”

“Why have you called for me?”

“I’m hoping…I guess I’m hoping your being here will…settle Dean. A little. You can offer support in a way that I can’t, and well, he’s better when you’re around. And, ‘sides, you’re family.”

Castiel nodded. “Thank you, Sam. In that case, please know that I am here for you as well.”

“Thanks, Cas.” Sam exhaled slowly. “Guess we’d better go in.”

Castiel gestured for Sam to lead the way. They followed voices to the kitchen. Mary and John were seated at the metal table as Dean worked over the stove. Burgers, from the smell of it. Of course.

Mary saw them first and grinned. “Castiel! I’m so glad you’re here.”

John turned and took in Castiel, slowly, from his head to his feet and back again. “This the angel?” he drawled.

Dean turned, wiping his hands on the white apron tied around his waist. “Cas! I didn’t, uh, I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“I do live here, Dean,” Castiel answered, but kept his eyes on John. “I understand we have a very important guest.”

John stood and extended his hand. “John Winchester.”

Castiel gripped the hand as firmly as John held his. “I am Castiel. It is an honor to meet you, John. Your sons are admirable and brave men.”

“Yeah, they are.” John released him and Castiel seemed to be the only one who noticed John sliding that hand down the side of his jeans. “Must’ve taken after their mother,” he said with a wink to Mary.

“Mary is a wonderful person and one I count as a friend,” Castiel said, “though I understand your parenting had quite the effect on both Sam and Dean. Do not underestimate yourself.”

John poured whiskey into his already half-full tumbler. “So…angel, huh? Didn’t think there was such an animal.”

“We are many, created by our Father to follow His will.”

“And how’s that workin’ out for you?”

“I am afraid my Father has been absent more than not, but many of us learned what it is to have free will. I must thank both Sam and Dean for helping me learn to enjoy my own. I rebelled from Heaven for Dean,” Castiel said.

“For Dean?” John chuckled. “Was it really that bad up in Heaven?”

Dean lowered his head and turned back to the stove.

“Not at all. Heaven is a beautiful place,” Castiel answered. “However, leaving my home for Dean has been the best decision of my considerably long life.”

“Castiel is like family,” Mary interjected. “He’s been good to the boys. I can’t imagine this place without him and his son Jack.”

“Where is the—what is it—nephilim, anyway?” John asked.

“He is away. Studying.” Castiel understood enough about John Winchester to leave Jack behind for the evening.

“Okay!” Dean said, his voice too bright. “How about we eat?”

Mary stood and collected plates. “This looks wonderful, honey,” she told Dean. “John, help me carry? We can eat at the table in the library.”

John took the remaining dishes and followed Mary, keeping his eyes on Castiel as he passed.

Dean took off his apron and threw it on the counter. “Cas, what the hell are you doing here?”

Castiel spread his arms. “This is my home, is it not?”

“Yeah, and you picked a hell of a time to turn up.” Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam. “You called him didn’t you?”

“No, Sam—”

“Cas,” Sam said, “it’s okay. Yes, I texted him. Wanted him to, you know, meet dad.”

“Uh-huh,” Dean said. “And you both thought that’d be a good idea? And to not tell me?”

“What difference does it make?” Sam asked. “Cas is family and this is a family dinner, right?”

“Right….” Dean said, pushing his way between Sam and Castiel. “Grab some beers, Sammy? Dad’ll want one with dinner.”

Sam sighed and opened the refrigerator. “He’ll be glad you’re here eventually. He’ll see it’s for the best. I think.”

“We shall see.”

The Winchesters and Castiel sat around the large wooden table. He sat next to Dean, who sat next to Sam; across the table were Mary and then John, sitting directly across from Castiel. The man took a swig from his beer and poked his food with a shaking finger.

“Didn’t know you cooked,” John said to Dean.

“Yeah. Yes. I do, I like it.” He shoved some fries and salad onto Castiel’s empty plate and cut his own burger in half, adding that to Castiel’s dish. “Sorry, man, didn’t know you were coming or I would’ve made more.”

“No need, Dean, but thank you.”

John stared as if Dean were performing neurosurgery. “Angels need to eat?”

“I do not,” Castiel answered. “However, I do enjoy Dean’s meals.”

“Dean’s a great cook,” Sam said. “Got a lot of practice trying to keep me happy as a kid; couldn’t have been the easiest job.”

“Yeah, you’re picky as shit,” Dean said around a small bite of burger.

“You cooked when you were children, Dean?” Mary asked.

“Only when dad couldn’t. Not that often, really,” Dean said.

Castiel played Dean’s memories in his mind. Watched as Dean scooped an entire tin pot of macaroni and cheese onto Sam’s plate. Watched Dean haggle at a farmer’s market to get enough vegetables to prepare a salad for Sam while he ate from dusty motel vending machines. Watched Dean dig small bottles of pilfered herbs and spices from the bottom of his duffel bag in an effort to make a dollar pack of ramen into a feast for his brother.

“I believe Dean is being modest,” Castiel said. Dean kicked him beneath the table, but Castiel continued. “He learned a lot of recipes at a young age, as I understand it.”

“Think you know about the boys’ childhood?” John asked.

Castiel knew about Dean sitting alone during recess in kindergarten. He hadn’t spoken since Mary’s death, and could only communicate using pidgin sign language. This did not win him any five-year-old friends, but did win him the heart of the art teacher who let him express himself with finger painting. Castiel knew about fifteen-year-old Dean dressing in John’s too-large button-down shirt and going to Sam’s sixth grade parent/teacher conference. He plastered on a charming smile and told Sam’s teachers John sent his regret, it was his tenth “sobriety birthday” in AA that night and he couldn’t make it. John came home that night and Dean ended up cleaning beer out of the motel carpet. Castiel knew about Flagstaff. He knew what John did to Dean when they couldn’t find Sam.

“He’s exaggerating,” Dean said. “Tell the guy I made Stove Top one Thanksgiving and I’m Wolfgang Puck.”

“Other than…cooking…I taught these boys everything they know,” John said, finally looking away from Castiel to smile at Mary. “Important things, like how to fight, how to stay alive. Isn’t that right, son?” He turned back to Dean.

“Yes, sir,” Dean answered quietly.

“Should’ve seen the kid kill his first buck. Wanted him to shoot something living for practice. Cried like a baby.”

Dean dropped his hand onto Castiel’s knee, his fingernails digging so far into Castiel’s pant leg he would not have been surprised if the fabric peeled apart.

“Head shot though, right Dad?” Dean asked with a thin smile. “‘Sides, I think it was really Disney that messed me up. What kid wants to kill Bambi?”

“Did Sam learn to shoot this way as well?” Castiel asked. He knew the answer.

“Nah,” John said. “Didn’t want a repeat of the hysterics. He was a natural anyway.”

“Dean taught me everything I know,” Sam mumbled.

“I wish you boys didn’t need to grow up that way,” Mary said.

“Made men outta ‘em,” John said with a boastful puff of his chest. “And we had to find Yellow Eyes, Mary, you know that.”

Castiel watched as Dean looked at Mary. “Can’t complain,” Dean said, “dad got some pretty damn good soldiers outta the deal.”

“Hunters,” Castiel corrected.

“Right, that’s what I meant.”

Dean gripped Castiel’s leg tighter.

“So,” John said, returning his stare to Castiel, “what’s an angel doing with a couple of hunters anyway?”

Dean’s hand slipped away. From the corner of his eye, Castiel watched it clench into a fist before it relaxed on the tabletop.

Sam cleared his throat. “Cas has been saving our asses for years. Don’t know what we’d do without him.”

“Saving you, eh?” John narrowed his eyes at Castiel.

“I have bled many times for the Winchesters,” Castiel said. “They, in return, have saved me. I have a certain knack for dying.”

“Who doesn’t?” Sam said. “Been to hell and back with him.”

“Hell,” John repeated.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “That’s when, uh, when we first met. Cas dragged me outta Hell, kicking and screaming. Put me back together and everything.”

“You did a stint downstairs?” John asked. “What’d you do to get yourself into that kinda trouble?”

“Saving me,” Sam intervened. “Why else?”

“And an angel,” John said, “just kept hanging around a pair of hunters?”

“When I was not battling with my brethren, yes,” Castiel said. “And I believe you would agree that Sam and Dean are more than a ‘pair of hunters’.”

“‘Course I would,” John snarled. “They're the best. That’s why I can’t figure out why they need you.”

“We want him,” Dean said, eyes on his hamburger. “We want Cas around. Need him. Like we said, he’s family.”

“Never thought I’d see the day an angel’d be the family pet.”

“John,” Mary warned.

“He’s not a ‘pet’, dad,” Sam said. “He’s our friend. Our best friend. He helps us.”

“Not how we did things in my day.”

“Yeah, well, things change, Dad,” Sam said. “And why wouldn’t you want an angel by your side? Cas is a total badass, right Dean?”

Dean looked up as if he’d forgotten he was part of the conversation. “Yeah, yeah he is. You should see him in action.”

John gestured between Dean and Castiel with his fork. “So, what,” he said to Dean, “you bat your eyes and he comes running?”

“Please do not make it sound as if Dean is a…damsel in distress,” Castiel said. Dean’s foot pushed down hard on Castiel’s toes. “He is a brave and sure fighter. As previously stated, even I have needed your sons’ assistance. It takes strength to accept help from others.”

“Hunters hunt alone,” John said.

Sam spread his arms. “We know, and you brought us up to be great ones, but, Dad, you gotta chill about Cas.”

“Couldn’t save you from being taken by Lucifer as I hear it,” John barked. “Dean should’ve done that.”

“Come on, you know shit doesn’t work that way,” Sam said. “Dean’s done more for me than anyone. He didn’t ‘save’ me because I didn’t want him to. I’m an adult and I make my own decisions. This isn’t the ‘look out for Sammy’ hour. I grew out of that. We grew out of that.”

“Did you now?” John leaned back in his chair.

“Never stopped taking care of Sammy,” Dean mumbled.

Castiel kept his posture rigid and faced John. “This is true, regardless of how much Sam wishes Dean would not try to care for him so much. It appears to be quite difficult to relinquish a parental role even as an adult.”

“Sam has two parents.” John’s voice rumbled like he was trying to level city walls. “Me and his mother.”

“It sounds like Dean helped a lot,” Mary said gently. She reached across the table and rested her hand on Dean’s. “More than I thought—I hoped—he would need to.”

Dean’s mouth twitched when he looked at his mother’s hand. Castiel had felt that yearn for approval when he first touched Dean’s soul. As soon as Dean’s soul burrowed inside of Castiel, it was full of desperation to be found good, even by a creature Dean did not know and had never encountered. And even though Dean had just been torturing souls.

Knowing Dean as he did, Castiel saw the flash of turmoil on his features of not wanting Mary to know how he had to take care of Sam and also wanting her to be proud of him. Brief though the expression was.

John turned his head toward Mary, but did not look at her. “I had to be gone sometimes. Couldn’t take them hunting for Yellow Eyes when they were kids, for Christsake. Dean knew as the older brother to take up the slack.”

“That was a pretty loose rope,” Sam snorted.

“Sam,” Dean begged.

Mary took her hand away and Dean’s fingers flexed after it.

“You got somethin’ to say?” John asked.

“Yeah,” Sam answered. “I do. You always put Dean down and I don’t get it. You know how much you were gone. How much you moved us around. How much money you’d leave for us to live on for weeks at a time.”

Mary paled.

“You know I wasn’t an easy kid,” Sam continued. “Not like Dean. I was such a brat.”

“You weren’t supposed to be easy,” Dean said, and Sam looked at him. “You were a kid.”

“So were you,” Sam said softly.

Dean shrugged. “I was the big brother, right? Gotta watch out for Sammy. Best job I ever had.”

“You need better jobs,” Sam said beneath his breath, but smiled.

Castiel moved his thigh a mere inch toward Dean and Dean grabbed it again, nails pinching flesh.

Sam turned to Mary with sad eyes. “He was great, Mom.”

“He shouldn’t have had to be. Not like that.” Mary angled away from her late husband.

“I’m the one who made sure you were healthy,” John said, his voice iced over. “That you went to school, made sure you had a roof over your head.”

Sam laughed. It was a huge belly laugh like John was the world’s greatest comedian.

“Dad,” Sam said, “no you didn’t. Bobby took us to get vaccinations, took us to get check-ups, to the dentist. No way Dean wouldn’t have gotten tetanus by eight years old. And, by the way, I didn’t have a cavity until college.

“As far as the other shit, the roofs over our heads were motel ceilings, different ones all the time. I don’t know how Dean kept our school transcripts together.”

“Dean dropped out,” John said.

“You told him to!” Sam glared at John, so full of the rage Castiel had always known he carried for John. As far as he knew, Dean thought all of that anger was about Sam himself—Sam’s own stolen childhood. Dean glanced at Sam. “I heard you tell him there was no point for a hunter to have an education. Said I might as well stay with Bobby and finish school.”

“You stayed with us,” John grunted.

“I stayed with Dean,” Sam said, softer. “And so help me, if you say my high school education was more important because ‘Sammy’s the smart one’, I will—”

“What, boy?” John asked. “You were. You are. And you did leave to go to Stanford.”

“Well, fuck me for wanting a different life than one on the road! Dean got his GED at nineteen and you gave him shit for that too. For studying, for God’s sake. For bettering himself.”

Dean slammed his fists on the table, making their dishes rattle.

“Stop talkin’ about me like I ain’t here! Sam, I can handle this myself. Just…back off, okay?”

“Why?” Sam continued to glare at John. “He never did.”

“I did everything I could for this family,” Dean yelled. “I didn’t ask for it and I never asked for any thanks. I wasn’t perfect; I fucked up a lot, okay? I know that.”

Dean slid away from the table, letting his chair topple behind him. “I can’t…I guess I thought this was what I wanted, but this…this is bullshit. I’m out.”

Dean’s heavy boots stomped away from the table to the hallway.

Sam tilted his head at Castiel. “You go,” he said with a sigh.

Castiel nodded and found Dean slumped on the floor against the wall of the bunker’s hallway. His knees were pulled up to his chest and his hands grasped fistfuls of his hair.

Castiel slowly lowered himself next to Dean, letting their shoulders touch.

“Dean?”

“What do you want, Cas?” He sounded exhausted.

“How is Michael?”

 “Quiet. I think he liked the show. I made an ass of myself. Story of my freakin’ life.”

“You did not,” Castiel told him. “Your father is the one who should be embarrassed.”

“Didn’t want mom to hear all that.”

“I know,” Castiel said, “but she should know how you and Sam grew up. She deserves to know, and I am sure she wants to, no matter how painful the truth is. You’re her sons.”

Dean let go of his hair and looked to the ceiling. “I was never enough for him, ya know? No matter what I did.”

“You raised Sam. That was more than enough and far more than should have ever been asked of you.”

“I tried so fucking hard. I’m, shit, I’m everything John said I am. Everything he said I would be.”

Castiel grabbed Dean’s bicep. “Dean. Dean, look at me.”

Dean’s eyes dragged to meet his.

“You are the best man I have ever known. John forced that life upon you, but you raised Sam because you love him, you know that, right? Sam clearly knows, and I believe Mary realizes that as well. You were selfless and you still are. You put everyone’s needs before your own and perhaps you were raised to do so, but you continue to it because you care about your family and your friends and the people you save. You deserve so much more than what John says. You deserve to feel important. As important to yourself as you are to Sam, to me, to Jack, to everyone who loves you.”

“He did the best he could.”

“That’s not true and you know it,” Castiel said. “John doesn’t deserve you defending him. You don’t owe him that. You don’t owe him anything.”

Dean ran a hand across his mouth. “Fuck, what am I supposed to do now? With him here?”

“By my estimation, John should only be here for twenty-four hours. This is not a permanent change in time—he belongs in 2003.”

Dean nodded. “Figured something like that. That’s good, I guess. Just gotta get through tomorrow.”

“You don’t need to speak to him again.”

“Naw, can’t do that. That’ll leave him with Sam and mom; not gonna do that to them.”

“If you must.” But Castiel had already resigned himself to that. He knew Dean wouldn’t avoid John; it wasn’t in his nature, no matter how much Castiel believed Dean desperately wanted to stay away. “For what it’s worth…I’m proud of the man you became.”

“Thanks.” Dean’s eyes held red rings around them. “I just…”

“What?”

Dean inhaled deeply. “I just wanted a dad.”

Dean sounded so young, like when Jack got sad. Castiel let go of his arm and slid it around Dean’s shoulders. Dean’s head fell on Castiel, and Castiel sat still like he was holding a bomb with a hair trigger on his shoulder.

“I can relate to that,” Castiel said. “It’s not quite the same, as angels are somewhat self-sufficient; we have our orders and roles even though our Father left us long ago. His return also didn’t go as well as one would’ve hoped, but I understand the sentiment. I know children need parents, caretakers. You did not have the one you needed.”

“Yeah, well, a lot of people don’t get a lot of things.”

“We’re not talking about other people; we’re talking about you. You deserved so much more.”

“So did Sam.”

Castiel nodded, his cheek brushing Dean’s hair. “He did, but you did the best you could, and, given what I know about Sam, you did a wonderful job.”

“Yeah, I parented the shit outta that kid.” Castiel could feel Dean smile.

“Indeed you did.” Castiel placed a hand on Dean’s cheek. Dean looked up at him. “You are nothing short of amazing, Dean. Please believe that.”

“I want to,” Dean whispered. “I just can’t. Never could.”

Castiel nodded. “Then I will believe it for you.”

Dean nuzzled into Castiel’s hand. “Thanks, Cas.”

“Of course.”

“Guess it was pretty stupid to think we’d have a nice family dinner with John, huh?”

Castiel shook his head. “Something like that shouldn’t be out of the question. The state of this reunion, how you grew up, is John’s fault. Not yours. Never yours.”

Dean nodded. He planted a hand on Castiel’s knee. “Thanks,” he said again.

They stared at each other for a while. Once again, Castiel lost sense of lost time. Dean’s eyes flicked between Castiel’s eyes and his lips, and his hold on Castiel’s knee tightened.

They slowly leaned toward each other, and Castiel’s eyes drifted closed as Dean’s lips met his. It was gentle; Dean took Castiel’s lower lip between his over and over. Dean’s lips were soft, and he slid his hand from Castiel’s knee to his ribs and up to his shoulders.

The kiss was…sweet. It wasn’t done with the desperation that permeated Castiel’s veins whenever he dared to imagine kissing Dean. It wasn’t rushed, like Castiel had to claw his way into Dean so he wouldn’t have a chance to leave. It was slow and easy.

Castiel pulled away and darted his eyes between Dean’s, searching his face for some kind of meaning. Dean grabbed Castiel’s hair and yanked Castiel toward him.

This time, Dean pressed his tongue against Castiel’s lips. He opened his mouth to Dean and their tongues came together as they clutched each other’s hair. Dean dragged his tongue against Castiel’s and moaned when Castiel responded, massaging Dean’s tongue with his own. This was more like what he had imagined—a great maw of need between them, waiting to consume them both.

They scrambled on the hard floor to their knees, pressing their bodies together. Dean was firm against him and smelled of store-brand deodorant and the leathery Impala interior. He had never kissed a man. He had only kissed three other people and it had never felt like this. Like Castiel would vibrate out of his skin if Dean stopped. Or didn’t stop.

But they should stop.

“Dean,” Castiel said, tilting his head away as Dean tried to follow Castiel’s lips. “Dean.”

Dean blinked. “Yeah?” His fingers ran across Castiel’s cheekbone, down to his jaw.

“What…what is this? What are we doing?”

“Making out, feels like,” Dean answered. He suddenly snatched his hand away from Castiel’s face, as if shocked. “Do you…do you not want to? Shit, I’m sorry.” Dean let his head thud against the wall. “Fuck, I wasn’t thinking, man. I’m sorry. I thought maybe—”

“Dean.” Castiel put his hands on Dean’s shoulders. “I want to, but…I need to know what this means.”

“I just…I need you.” Dean fisted Castiel’s trench coat. “Please…just…for tonight. I need you.”

“Okay,” Castiel said, not one to deny Dean. “I’ll take care of you. Should we go to your room?”

Dean stood, pulling Castiel up with him. They walked silently to Dean’s room, and Castiel locked the door behind them.

Dean shifted on his feet, eyes wide and darting around the room.

“Get undressed,” Castiel said evenly, already shrugging off his coat.

Dean nodded and pulled off his shirt. Castiel matched his pace until they were both naked. Castiel hadn’t seen Dean this way since he restored him. Dean’s body had always been a large presence; the Sword of Michael cutting through the air dressed in flannel. Dean’s body had changed over the years; it was now broader and stronger, but with a softness around his hips and more freckles on his shoulders.

Dean’s eyes were large, studying Castiel’s body. Castiel knew he was attractive with thick thighs, sharp hip bones, and tan skin. Despite this body being based on Jimmy Novak, Castiel was pleased to see Dean’s Adam apple bob several times.

“On the bed,” Castiel told him. Sudden, strong intuition hit him and he saw Dean’s needs with startling clarity. Dean needed to be distracted, taken out of the pain of John’s return before he shut down his emotions. He needed to feel.

He would make sure Dean felt him.

Dean flopped onto his bed, lying on his back and propped up on his elbows.

Castiel slowly approached the bed and ran a hand from Dean’s knee up to his shoulder. “You are so beautiful,” he said, and Dean closed his eyes.

Castiel carefully covered Dean’s body with his own. The beginnings of their erections rubbed together and Dean’s arms gave way with a groan, falling against the pillows.

“I put this body back together, cell by cell, did you know that?” Dean didn’t move. Castiel breathed against Dean’s skin. “I formed you on a frozen hillside in Heaven and consumed you with my grace. I knew then you were an aesthetically pleasing human, but I didn’t fully appreciate it until I had my own body. Until I came to know you as well as I have.” He kissed along Dean’s clavicle. “Your soul called out to me, so bright and brilliant; as if it knew it needed me and only me. I marked you that day, Dean.” He kissed the ghost of his hand print on Dean’s upper arm. “I claimed the Righteous Man as my own. My human and my creation—handcrafted by me. Your shining, loving soul as mine. As belonging to my grace.”

Dean whimpered with his eyes still squeezed shut.

“You are the loveliest thing I have ever seen and I’ve seen all of creation. I watched as the sun first warmed the Earth. I watched the redwoods grow, mountains rise, and animals evolve. None of that prepared me for the soul, the mind, the body of Dean Winchester.”

“Cas…” Dean whined.

Castiel crushed their mouths together and Dean dug his fingers into Castiel’s back. “I will give you what you need,” Castiel said against Dean’s mouth.

Castiel kissed his way to Dean’s throat and sunk his teeth into the tender flesh and Dean bucked against him.

“Is this what you want?” Castiel growled in Dean’s ear. “To have me mark you again? To let everyone see? To let your father see how an angel loves you? How a man does?”

Dean nodded and Castiel smiled against his skin. “Good.”

Castiel went about marking Dean’s neck, sucking on the skin until he was satisfied it would still be red the next day. 

Castiel mouthed across Dean’s chest with licks and kisses. Then he took one of Dean’s nipples and bit. Hard. Dean gulped and Castiel felt Dean relax beneath him despite, or because of, the pain. He nipped at Dean’s other nipple and Dean scratched down Castiel’s back; he curled his back toward Dean’s hands. The trail of pain sliced down his back where his wings would meet his physical body and it felt good. The pain awakened something primal in Castiel, as if he were not part of the heavenly host. As if he were mortal, with all the desires and needs of humanity.

Castiel dragged himself up so his mouth was back against Dean’s ear.

“Do you want me to fuck you, Dean?”

“Holy shit!” Dean yelped, but wrapped his legs around Castiel’s waist. “You can’t just say ‘fuck’ for the first time like that.”

Castiel pulled back so they were face-to-face.

“Is that not the correct nomenclature for taking your body fast and hard?”

“Jesus Christ.” Dean’s body shuddered against Castiel. “Yes.”

“Then that is precisely what I’m going to do. Do you have lubricant?”

Dean reached into his nightstand beneath Castiel’s weight and handed him the bottle.

Castiel knew anal sex required relaxation of the muscles inside Dean’s asshole. He also knew the correct language of sex, as Dean had once admoinished him for using the word “penis” when it should be dick or cock. Ejaculation was “coming.” No one said “vagina.” Dean wanted to make sure Castiel understood that, should Castiel ever have sex with someone who wasn’t a reaper. Dean had, however, been beet red for the entire conversation. Having special “dirty” words for sexual congress was completely at odds with the puritanical views of sex that persisted in western society, which Castiel never understood. Intercourse was natural between humans, but talking about it was not.

Humans were fascinating creatures to study, and Dean had his complete attention.

Dean watched as Castiel settled between his legs. Castiel took Dean’s dick in his mouth, swallowing him to the hilt. “Cas.” He grabbed Castiel’s hair, keeping him in place. As if Castiel would ever want to leave.

With lube on his fingers, Castiel circled his index finger around Dean’s rim, slowly pushing in as he continually swallowed Dean into his throat.

Dean hissed as Castiel pulled his finger nearly entirely out, then back in. Dean’s inner muscles grasped his finger. Castiel inserted a second as soon as he felt a modicum of give inside Dean. Castiel twisted his fingers while he took only the tip of Dean’s cock in his mouth, sucking and flicking his tongue intently across the head. Dean shook beneath him and Castiel pulled off his dick completely and crawled back up Dean’s body, his fingers still moving inside of Dean’s hole.

“Shh…” Castiel soothed. “Relax and let me care for you.”

Dean nodded and Castiel changed his back to his authoritative tone. “Turn over,” he demanded.

Dean complied, though he wailed something incoherent when Castiel took away his fingers.

Dean was flat on the bed, legs spread for Castiel. Castiel ran his hands down Dean’s back and over his beautifully round rump, which gave him an idea.

Castiel pulled Dean’s cheeks apart and dove in. His tongue licked around and over Dean’s hole, causing Dean to jerk and curse. He speared his tongue inside of Dean, mercilessly fucking Dean with his mouth.

“Fuck, that feels so good.” Castiel moaned and prodded him further. Dean’s ass was a revelation—Castiel did not anticipate enjoying this particular act so much that he rutted his own erection against the bed. Dean constricted around Castiel’s tongue, as nonsensical pleas flowed from his lips.

Adding more lubricant, Castiel pushed a finger inside Dean so he was licking both Dean and his own finger. Castiel could have kept this up all night—the taste, the heat of Dean—but he had promised a proper fucking.

As Castiel regretfully removed his tongue, he added two more fingers and Dean grunted at the sudden infiltration.

“On your knees,” Castiel commanded. Holding Castiel’s fingers inside of him, Dean lifted his ass into the air and propped himself up on his elbows. Castiel nipped along Dean’s spine as he pushed his fingers in and out of Dean.

“I’m ready,” Dean finally croaked. “Please…just fuck me already, man.”

Castiel pulled away and covered his dick in lube. He took a moment to stroke himself while watching Dean’s trembling body. It was a glorious sight.

Castiel placed a hand on Dean’s neck and shoved his head into the pillows. “Stay,” he demanded.

Castiel rubbed his dick along the cleft of Dean’s ass before pushing inside. He pressed in slowly until he was completely enveloped by Dean. Dean was hot and tight around Castiel and he worried he wouldn’t be able to move, he was gripped so tightly.

He leaned down. “I’m going to fuck you now.”

“Yes.”

As soon as the word left Dean’s mouth, Castiel started thrusting with abandon. It felt exquisite, sliding inside of Dean.

“Cas,” Dean groaned. “Feels so good…feels so much.”

“You are taking it so well, Dean. I knew you would. I knew you would open right up for me. You’re doing so well, aren’t you? You love taking my cock.”

Dean nodded.

“You love this, being used by me. Your entire family is in the bunker, do you think they will hear you? Hear all the pretty sounds you make as you’re letting me fuck you? You ‘bottoming’ for me—Dean Winchester taking it in the ass and loving it.”

“Fuck yeah. Fuck yeah I do; don’t stop.”

“I have no intention of doing so.”

“Need…more. Want more of you.”

Castiel pulled out in one fast move. Before Dean could protest, Castiel flipped him over to his back.

“You will receive what I will allow. You are fortunate that I want to give you everything.”

Castiel stood and grabbed Dean by the waist and lifted him. Dean gasped and wrapped his legs around Castiel like a vise, arms clinging to Castiel’s shoulders by his fingernails.

Castiel spun them and slammed Dean against the wall. Dean buried his head in Castiel’s neck and wrapped his arms across Castiel’s shoulders. Castiel lined himself up and forced Dean down on his cock.

Dean continued to hide in Castiel’s neck even as Castiel slammed into him with punishing speed.

“This is what you desired.” Castiel tightened his grip on Dean’s hips. “I am an angel of the Lord debasing my own glory to have sex with you. To fuck you.”

Dean bit Castiel’s shoulder and stayed there while Castiel kept up his savage pace. He managed to get a hand between them and stroked Dean in rhythm with each thrust.

“Are you going to come for me, Dean?” Castiel panted into his ear. “I want to hear how good it feels.”

“Jesus…fuck.” Castiel knew Dean was close and snapped his hips as hard as he could, manhandling Dean against the wall so that Dean’s body kept rising and falling around Castiel’s cock.

“Come for me.”

“Oh, shit,” Dean yelled. Castiel felt Dean’s cock pulse inside his hand. “God, Cas. Fuck… fuck.”

Dean clenched around Castiel so strongly that Castiel was immediately coming.

“Feels so good, filling you up,” Castiel said. “You will feel this tomorrow; I will not heal any aches or pains. I want you to feel and remember.”

“Fuck, yeah.”

“‘Yeah’ what?”

“Yeah, I wanna feel you, Cas. Wanna hurt.”

“Good.”

Castiel turned and flung Dean onto the bed. Castiel pounced on him like a housecat and licked Dean’s come from his belly. Drinking Dean was the closest Castiel had ever felt to rebuilding him after pulling him from hell. Part of Dean was inside his mouth and down his throat. It was almost as if his grace and Dean’s soul were reunited.

Castiel shimmied up the bed so he was lying next to Dean, both on their backs. A sheen of sweat covered Dean, and Castiel watched his chest rise and fall as Dean coughed beside him.

“Holy shit,” Dean said, an arm across eyes. “Where’d you learn to talk like that?”

“Was that…was that acceptable?” Castiel felt smaller, like his true form had rushed back into his six feet of humanity. Had he pushed Dean too hard?

Dean laughed. He peeked at Castiel from beneath his forearm. “Yeah. Yeah, that was—fuck—that was pretty damn acceptable. Just what I needed.”

Castiel smiled. “I’m glad. I thought…I hoped it was what you wanted. I’ve never…spoken that way before. I tried to be what you wanted.”

“Gotta say, you’re a natural.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

Dean lowered his arm and tucked his hand into Castiel’s elbow. He looked at Castiel with a slow dance in his eyes.

“I, uh, I like stuff like that. Sometimes.”

“I thought you might appreciate…shutting your mind off for a time. Going somewhere else, if you will.”

“Not be John’s son,” Dean said, looking away.

“You are so much more than that.”

“All that stuff you said…did you mean it?” Dean asked as his fingers tickled Castiel’s skin.

“I did take you to Heaven and I did fashion and heal you using my grace. It wasn’t really for me…it was a command…I didn’t mean to—”

“Hey,” Dean said, “it’s okay if it was. If you were….”

“There was a connection,” Castiel admitted. “I was tasked with ensuring your safety, but once I had you, I wanted to. I didn’t know why, but I was glad I was chosen for the mission.”

“Did you ever figure out why?” Dean asked.

“It was you.” Castiel looked at Dean. “I felt your soul, but I got to know you, truly know you, once I began my work on Earth. We became friends, then family. You truly are the greatest man I have ever known and it has been an honor to watch over you.”

Dean nodded. “Glad it was you too,” was all he said.

Dean shuffled and covered them with his blanket.

“You would like for me to stay?” Castiel asked. He found himself wanting to stay in Dean’s bed—wanting to lie next to him naked, their bodies brushing against each other in the night.

“If that’s okay…but if you got stuff to do, it’s fine,” Dean said.

“I would like very much to stay with you.”

Dean smiled. “Cool. I’m gonna get some shut-eye. Big day tomorrow or whatever.”

“I will be here when you wake and we will get through tomorrow together.”

“Night, Cas.”

“Good night, Dean.”

Dean was asleep within minutes. He was on his side, facing Castiel, who watched his relaxed face, the movement behind his eyes, his shallow breathing for the next four hours.

Dean stirred around two o’clock and Castiel brushed his fingers through Dean’s hair as he woke.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean yawned. “You stayed.”

“I said I would. Go back to sleep, it’s early.”

Dean smacked his lips together. “Gonna hit the head and brush my teeth. They’re fuzzy with burger.” He got up and pulled on a pair of plaid pajama bottoms. “And angel spit,” he said with a wink before leaving the room.

Castiel fixed the blanket around him and smoothed out Dean’s side. Should he put on pants as well? All he had were his own and didn’t want to presume anything….

When Dean returned a few minutes later, he took his pants off before sliding back beneath the covers. He turned to look at Castiel.

“Hi,” was all he said.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean smiled. “I like how you always say that.” He yawned again. “Feels…right I guess. Gotten used to it.”

“I’m glad,” Castiel replied. “Get some more sleep.”

Dean burrowed beneath the blanket until he was pressed against Castiel’s side. “Sleep later.”

He put a finger beneath Castiel’s chin and tipped his head up for a kiss, opening up for Castiel’s tongue. The sharp taste of mint filled Castiel’s senses.

Castiel turned toward Dean and Dean slid a leg between his thighs, catching Castiel’s penis, which was already beginning to fill. Dean pulled Castiel closer with a hand on his hip and Castiel held Dean’s face in his palm.

“Please,” Dean pleaded against Castiel’s lips. He tugged on Castiel’s waist.

“Dean….”

Dean pulled Castiel on top of him, and Castiel pressed his entire body against Dean. Dean sighed as Castiel settled his weight on him and circled Castiel’s thighs with his legs.

“Need you, need you,” Dean chanted before kissing his way down Castiel’s neck, sucking a bruise where his neck met his shoulder. Castiel rutted against him as their bodies grew more excited.

Castiel took the lube from Dean’s nightstand and poured some on a finger. He pushed that finger inside Dean, who bit down on Castiel’s shoulder. He was still open from earlier; slick with lube and Castiel’s seed. That made Castiel very happy, knowing that Dean had kept a part of him inside.

Dean’s fingers ruffled Castiel’s hair. “I’m good,” Dean said. “Ready.” Castiel crooked his finger to brush over Dean’s prostate. “Fuck me already,” Dean groaned, pushing himself down on Castiel’s finger.

Castiel pulled his finger out and gripped Dean’s thighs, swinging one leg over his shoulder. He pushed into Dean in one swift movement.

“Oh, fuck.” Dean's hands scrambled on Castiel’s back, nails scraping across his spine.

Castiel began to thrust slowly and evenly, watching Dean move beneath him.

“You may be my greatest design, the greatest thing I have ever accomplished, but you are your own man, Dean.” Dean’s eyes blinked shut and he pulled his lower lip beneath his teeth. “You are my Father’s most blessed creation, but everything you have ever done, the person that you are, is because of your strength and your bravery and your heart.”

“Shit, Cas,” Dean wheezed.

Castiel continued fucking Dean at a leisurely pace. “You raised and shaped yourself into the man you are today. A man I am honored to call my friend and whom I count among the numbers of my heavenly family. You may have been torn and broken, but you put yourself right and made something wonderful. You made yourself whole.”

Dean looked into Castiel’s eyes. “You did. You made me whole, Cas.”

Castiel stumbled at that and adjusted so that both of Dean’s legs were around Castiel’s waist and leaned down so their foreheads touched. Their bodies moved together with nothing but gasps and sighs for several minutes, then Dean grabbed the back of Castiel’s neck and pulled him into a kiss, licking into Castiel’s mouth.

The kiss was a fierce thing, with bumping noses and clacking teeth. Dean raised his head to press his lips against Castiel more. It was all somehow more. If Castiel believed Dean had any control over his soul, he would swear Dean was trying to pour it into Castiel’s mouth until it melded with his grace. Castiel stilled almost completely, so taken by Dean’s mouth, that Dean was grinding against him.

Castiel felt as if a swarm of bees had flown into his head, drowning out any sound except Dean groaning beneath him. It felt like his skull…like his teeth were vibrating again. That if he could vibrate enough he and Dean would be pulled into some other plane of existence. A place with no psychic pain, no linear time, no familial obligations.

Dean’s hands were everywhere—Castiel couldn't keep track of them. Dean scratched through his hair and across his back and along his ribs and down his arms. Dean’s heels dug into his ass, urging him deeper—forcing him deeper inside, like Dean would be able to absorb him and keep him forever and Castiel wanted that. He wanted to live behind Dean’s ribs and have his grace settle with Dean’s soul and be bound together.

Dean nipped at Castiel’s earlobe and his tongue ran behind Castiel’s ear, making him shiver. He felt Dean smile against his neck as he kissed and licked his way down and across his shoulder, sinking his teeth into his pectoral. Castiel was certain he made some sort of sound, but he didn’t know what, only that it was a sound he had never made before.

“Fuck, Cas, you feel so goddamn good.” Dean pressed a hand to Castiel’s cheek. “Do you feel good, angel?”

“I do,” Castiel panted, “human.”

Dean’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “That’s what I want to hear. I want to make this so good for you. All I ever wanted…I just want you to feel good.”

“You are amazing, Dean,” Castiel said. “You are…beyond what I could have ever imagined. I am in awe.”

“Imagined, huh?”

“I’ve thought of this…many times.” Castiel searched his eyes. “Haven’t you?”

“Of course,” Dean answered. “I imagined myself as pretty good too—”

Castiel shifted his angle so he hit Dean’s prostate, shutting down his snarky retort.

“Shit.” Dean bowed off the bed, his damp chest sliding against Castiel’s. “Right there, angel.”

Castiel reared back and slammed into Dean again. He tried to keep his eyes open to watch Dean’s face as he kicked up the pace, but Dean’s heat was overwhelming and Castiel’s eyes slipped shut to focus on the overwhelming pleasure coursing through his limbs.

“Need to—” Dean stuttered, grasping his dick. “Need to come.”

“Do it.”

“Fuck. Jesus fuck.” Dean pulsed in between them, warmth spurting out of him.

“Dean,” was all Castiel could say before coming inside him. Castiel imagined his come covering Dean’s inside, seeping into him, filling his muscle and bone with Castiel’s essence.

After a moment of panting into each other’s mouths, Castiel pulled out and began to roll away, but Dean grabbed him. Dean pulled him down so his complete weight was on top of Dean, and Dean squeezed with what seemed like contentment and kissed his shoulder.

“How are you feeling?” Castiel asked, kissing Dean’s cheek.

“Better.” Dean rubbed his hands along Castiel’s back. “You?”

“I’m doing quite well.”

“Good,” Dean murmured.

Castiel managed to slide off Dean and wiped Dean’s belly with a shirt he found on the floor. He dried his own hands and dropped it over the side of the bed.

“Lazy,” Dean smirked.

“I do not see a good reason to get out of this bed.”

Dean turned onto his side and rested his head on Castiel’s chest, beneath his chin. Castiel ran his fingers through Dean’s hair and wrapped his other arm around Dean’s waist. They didn’t speak anymore and Castiel stayed still as he felt Dean relax and his breathing slowed.

This certainly was not what Castiel had expected to happen when Sam texted him all those hours ago. While he wasn’t happy about John being there, Castiel was elated to be with Dean. He closed his eyes and kept Dean in his arms.

A few hours later, Dean awoke.

“Good morning, Dean.”

Dean rubbed his eyes. “Coffee.”

“Let’s get up and I’ll make you some.”

“Your coffee’s terrible,” Dean said. He rolled out of bed onto his feet. “How do you hold all knowledge of the universe, but not that of a Starbucks barista?”

“I don’t know everything,” Castiel said. They got dressed, Castiel putting his slacks and white button-down on, but  leaving off his tie, coat and jacket. Dean slipped on a pair of jeans and an old band shirt. They walked to Dean’s door in socked feet.

Dean touched Castiel’s shoulder before he opened the door.

“Thanks, uh, for last night,” Dean said, rubbing his neck and looking at the floor. “For listening and…the other stuff.”

“It was my pleasure, Dean.” Castiel regarded his friend. “You know, you don’t have to go out there. I could bring you breakfast.”

“Nah, I should see dad before he leaves.”

“I know he kept you…in his fist starting when you were a very young child,” Castiel said, cupping Dean’s cheek with his palm. “You are your own person now and he does not dictate what you do. Nor should he take credit for the good things you’ve done.”

“Jesus, Cas, I get it. You don’t like the man,” Dean said with a hollow laugh.

“No, I do not. But I also don’t want you to forget what you have overcome. All the good you have put into the world.”

Dean reached past Castiel and opened the door. “Let’s get this over with then.”

Castiel followed Dean to the kitchen. He could see Dean’s shoulders sag with relief when he saw it was empty. Castiel heard voices coming from the library as Dean stumbled to the coffee maker.

Castiel cleared his throat. “I’m going to see where everyone is.”

“Yeah, whatever man.” Dean did not turn around.

Castiel found John running his fingers along the leather-bound tomes while Sam and Mary whispered at the table.

“Good morning, John,” Castiel said, striding over to the man.

John gave Castiel a once-over. “You stay here at night?”

“Sometimes. I stayed last night.”

“I was hoping I could have some time with my family today. You know…just family.”

“I understand,” Castiel answered. “It must be quite overwhelming, but a relief, to see Mary and your children again. However, I won’t be leaving. Not unless Sam, Dean, and Mary ask me to.”

John rolled his eyes. “Sam,” he yelled, “can you tell your…friend to leave? I would like to have one family meal before I disappear.”

“Can’t do that,” Sam yelled back. “This is Cas’s home.”

Castiel looked at John and shrugged.

“Fine,” John said through gritted teeth. He turned back to the books and Castiel waited patiently beside him.

After a long minute, John whipped his head to face Castiel. “Can I help you with something, kid?”

“I am not a child,” Castiel said. “I am a celestial being and hundreds of thousands of years old.”

“Good for you, why are you staring at me like that?”

They were interrupted by Dean walking in and loudly dropping his mug and plate of toast on the table. He sunk into a chair.

“Dean,” John said, pushing past Castiel, shoulder-checking him on the way. John winced in pain.

“Morning, son,” John said, clapping a hand on Dean’s shoulder. Dean’s shoulders tensed beneath the touch.

“Morning,” Dean said in a hushed voice, as if the floor were littered with eggshells.

“Uh,” John started, “sorry if I…made you feel bad last night. Didn’t mean to.”

Castiel snorted.

John spun around. “Again, I ask, can I fucking help you?”

“Don’t talk to Cas that way,” Sam snapped.

“Jesus, what, you love this angel more than your old man or something?”

“I don’t let my friends be disrespected in our home,” Sam answered.

Dean picked the crust off his toast, not looking up.

“I don’t want to fight again,” John said.

“Great,” Sam said, “me neither.”

John looked down at Dean, his mouth opened to speak. “What the hell?” John sputtered. He grabbed Dean’s collar and yanked it to the side. “Are those…did you go out last night?”

Dean shook his head.

Mary’s eyes widened and Sam froze reaching for his coffee cup.

“Are those hickeys?” John asked in a low voice.

Dean shrugged away from him, pulling up his collar.

“Answer me.”

“Don’t gotta tell you nothin’,” Dean muttered.

“What was that?” John said.

“Dad,” Sam interrupted, “leave him alone. I thought you wanted a nice family breakfast.”

John narrowed his eyes at Castiel. “Did you…what did you do?”

Castiel folded his arms across his chest and said nothing.

John stalked his way to Castiel with rigid shoulders and head held high. Castiel was sure he meant to look large and intimidating, chasing his prey.

Castiel was so much larger.

“What have you done to my son?” John spat. He stood so close to Castiel he could feel John’s humid breath against his skin.

“I haven’t done anything,” Castiel answered.

John laughed in Castiel’s face, then turned back to his family. “Am I the only one here who sees that this,” he pointed to Castiel, “has brainwashed all of you?”

Sam signed and leaned back in his chair. “He hasn’t brainwashed us. If anything, Heaven tried to brainwash Cas. Tried to get him to stop caring about us so much.” Sam looked at Cas with a smile. “It didn’t work.”

John shook his head. “You can’t know what he did. I’m here less than a day and one of my sons already has, what, hickeys from the thing?”

“That’s enough!” Dean shouted. He stood and rounded on John. His jaw set and shoulders hackled, but eyes were clear. “Cas hasn’t done a damn thing to me. Yeah,” he tugged at his shirt, “these are from Cas. I wanted him to do that. I wanted him to mark me while we had sex. And that scares the shit outta you.”

“I’m afraid for you, son. This—this isn’t you.”

Dean spread his arms. “Yeah, it is. I’m a hunter, I raised Sam, and I slept with an angel. If you can’t deal with that, you can get the fuck outta our bunker.”

Sam and Mary sat in shock, John ground his teeth, and Castiel bit his lip to keep from laughing at John’s distress. Castiel was positively giddy inside, watching Dean stand up to his father.

John’s lips curled with disgust. “I didn’t raise you to act this way.”

“You didn’t raise me at all!”

John shook with outrage. “I sure as shit did. I did everything—everything—for you.”

“No you didn’t,” Sam said, standing. “Dean did everything for me and all you did for Dean was make him feel like shit. Raised him to be your weapon.”

“That’s not—”

Mary stood as well. “It sounds like Sam is right, John.”

John sagged. He stepped carefully to Mary. “You don’t know how hard it was. You weren’t there.”

He reached out to touch Mary’s face. She jerked away.

“From the looks of it, neither were you,” she said.

John stumbled backward. “Mary…Mary please. Please. Everything I did, I did for you. To find the demon who killed you.”

“I’m confused,” Mary said, “did you do everything for Sam and Dean? Or for me?”

“I—”

Dean stepped between his parents. “Just leave, dad. Please.”

John looked at Mary, Sam, and Dean.

“Fine,” he said. “God, I hope I don’t remember any of this bullshit.”

“You won’t,” Castiel said. “You will return to your time, wake up in your car, and not remember anything. Pity, it would have been nice if you could learn from this experience.”

Dean stared John in the eyes. “He wouldn’t learn a damn thing anyway. Get. Out.”

Sam stood on the other side of Mary so she was flanked by both her sons. “Bye, Dad,” he bit.

John glared as he passed Castiel and stomped up the stairs, slamming the door behind him.

“I’m so sorry, Dean,” Mary said. She took him in her arms. He collapsed against her and his shoulders quivered with silent tears.

Sam walked to Castiel. “You okay?” he asked.

“I should be asking you that,” Castiel answered.

Sam shrugged. “I’m okay. Been better.” They smiled. “Is Dean gonna be okay?” Sam whispered.

“Your brother is very strong,” Castiel said.

“That he is. Best damn brother a guy could ask for.”

Mary whispered something to Dean and he shook his head.

“We should give them some space,” Sam said. Castiel nodded and they quietly left the room.

Late that afternoon, Dean found Castiel in the Dean Cave on the second-hand sofa, staring at the blank television screen.

“How are you doing, Dean?” Castiel asked.

“Eh, I’ll be okay,” he answered and flopped into the seat next to Castiel. “Thanks again for…last night.”

Castiel smiled. “Of course, Dean.”

Dean stared at him for a long moment, but Castiel found he couldn’t interpret what was happening behind those green eyes. Dean eventually licked his lips, nodded, and reached across Castiel for the TV remote.

They said nothing else to each other.