New Dean/Cas Fic: Coda to 5x22
May. 20th, 2010 06:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mf_luder_xfTitle: I won’t grieve; it’s not yet time.
Author: MF Luder
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Keywords: pre-slash, ust, episode coda
Rating: G
Word Count: ~3,400
Warnings: None
Spoilers: 5x22 “Swan Song”
Disclaimer: All characters herein belong to Kripke and Co. and the CW.
Archive: My LJ, anywhere else, please let me know
Summary: Castiel never said goodbye.
Feedback: skin.walker2y5@gmail.com
Author’s Notes: Title stolen from my new fav song “Breathe” by Superchick. Also, this has officially been Kripked by the new casting news, but I have never been so excited to have something tossed out the window as I am now. Betaed by the awesome![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rhymephile who was very kind to help me in the midst of moving. ♥
Dean stays with Bobby for two days, making sure he’s settled back in. They drink a lot of booze and don’t talk. Not much, anyway; if there was anyone who could understand, who could get through his outer shell besides Sam, it was Bobby. He makes sure to have Bobby promise to kill Crowley if he sees the bastard again, because the demon still has his soul and old habits die hard. It might not be as heartfelt as Dean makes it sound, though; in the face of losing his brother, letting one arrogant self-serving demon live seems like small potatoes.
The world doesn’t suddenly become sunshine and rainbows right away. Storms and wars and disease don’t disappear even without the Horsemen perpetuating them. Dean doesn’t really care about the world right now, either.
In fact, he hardly cares at all. He made a promise to Sam, but it can keep a few more days. He can’t face Lisa like this; she doesn’t deserve it. So when he leaves Bobby’s he drives until his eyes betray him and stops at a motel in Booneville, Missouri, right off I-70. He’ll make it to Lisa’s in Indiana the next day, but for now, he’s hardly slept more than two hours since Sam fell in the pit, preferring the alcoholic haze.
He doesn’t bother seeking out the good little diner that’s usually in towns like this and instead just walks over to the Burger King across from his motel. He opens the food wrappers when he returns, turning on the surprisingly up-to-date TV to find a rerun of Dr. Sexy, MD. He takes one look at the burger, though, and dumps it in the trash, choosing to pick at the fries after he discovers the only reruns currently airing are procedural cop shows. God, he really hates CSI: Miami. Although that blonde chick is kind of hot.
He showers and does a full on face-plant onto the bed after slipping into a clean tee and boxer shorts. He falls into a dreamless sleep to the sounds of Jimmy Fallon playing beer pong.
***
He wakes up to a silenced TV and the intense feeling someone is in the room with him. He doesn’t reach for a weapon because he already knows who it is.
“Couldn’t stay away long, huh?”
“It occurs to me,” comes Castiel’s rough voice as the bed dips beside Dean, “that I never said goodbye.”
“You do kind of suck at those,” Dean states, not bothering to turn over, though he does wipe the drool from the corner of his mouth with a hand.
“Dean.”
He sighs and flips over, blinking his eyes a few times, adjusting to the darkness so that he can make out the newly full-fledged angel. Castiel is wearing the same damn trench coat but he looks more pristine than he has in nearly a year. It’s like all traces of humanity have been washed away. Dean would swear his hair is even more messy; the angel looks as though he put his finger in an electric socket.
“God promotes you and you still can’t afford a new wardrobe?”
Castiel looks down at himself and fingers the tan hem. “I admit, I find myself particularly attached to the clothing. And I wouldn’t know what to wear otherwise.”
“Well, at least you’re not naked, I guess,” Dean grumps, but he doesn’t say it to be mean.
“I suspected you wouldn’t appreciate that,” Castiel says with a barely-there smile pulling at his lips.
They sit in silence for a few moments and it’s not uncomfortable exactly, but there’s definitely something unspoken growing. Dean sighs and sits up, finding himself shoulder-to-shoulder with the angel.
“Why are you here, Castiel? Heaven not done with me?”
The angel looks at him strangely. “You have not called me Castiel for nearly two years, now.”
“Yeah, well, feels like a business meeting. And you’re all juiced up again. I suppose I should call you your grown-up name.” Dean makes a face.
“You are lying,” Castiel responds, softly.
Yes, he is. Using the angel’s full name makes it easier, somehow. Reminds him this is an angel he is dealing with, despite the loose shoulders and unthreatening air Cas-Castiel brought with him this time. He’s still a little upset the angel just blinked out on him, practically in the middle of a conversation, that night Sam fell in the pit.
“Just get it over with, ok?”
“Get what over with?” Castiel appears confused.
“The part where you say Heaven has one last task for me. Then we can get to the part where I say I’m done and I’m never doing anything for Heaven or Hell or anybody else ever again. I made Sam a promise and I intend to keep it. And then you can fly off and sheriff your paradise.”
“Dean,” Castiel shakes his head. “Can nothing ever be simple with you? You can’t believe I would come to simply talk?”
“You angels always have an agenda.” Dean feels bitterness wash over him and he stands in order to pace. He glances up just in time to see the light from the street lamps illuminate the hurt that washes over Castiel’s face. Whatever. It doesn’t matter, anymore. Nothing does.
“I apologize. I can see it was a mistake now. I shall leave you.” Castiel stands and Dean swears he can feel a shift in the air at the same time he hears something that might be wings and he throws out a hand.
“Wait.”
Castiel pauses and turns back to him, face expressionless.
“I’m sorry, I’m-” being an asshole, he thinks, “Tired. You didn’t deserve that. What’s up?”
The awesome thing about Cas is his ability to forgive so easily. He lets Dean’s doucheyness slide. “I found…I felt…I believe the appropriate phrasing would be that I missed you.”
“You missed me?” Well, if that isn’t a shock and a half. “You’ve been gone for two days, dude.”
Castiel sighs, managing to look put upon without ever changing his expression. “Dean, if you had ever paid attention to me, you’d recall Heaven operates on its own time, just like Hell. It changes. But it has been the equivalent feeling of a human month for me. I’d have come sooner but I had things to attend to.”
Dean plops in the shaky wicker-backed chair in the room. “How is Heaven shaping up?”
“Well, I believe. There were some issues at first, but they have been sorted out.”
“Issues?” Dean raises his eyebrows. “What kind of issues?”
The angel spreads his hands. “As you know, there was a power vacuum. One archangel dead, another locked in the Cage with Lucifer, our Father still gone…and I found myself more powerful than before.”
“Well, yeah. You brought Bobby back to life.”
Castiel stares at him as though he’s dense. Which he might be. “Dean. I walked into Hell, fighting hordes of demons and pulled you out, a lost and nearly demonic soul. I made your body whole and breathed life into it. Bringing Bobby back from Purgatory was…a ‘cake-walk,’ as you might say.”
Well, when he put it like that…
“What I mean to say is that I am no longer a mere soldier. I am,” he pauses and Dean would bet his life it’s for dramatic effect, though he’s never known Cas to be proud. “I am an archangel now.”
And that…that makes so much sense. Dean can’t say he’s entirely surprised, but it’s still a bit of a shock. Castiel had been human, so frail he had to take a bus to get to Dean and Sam, and now he’s an archangel? He’s glad he’s sitting down.
Castiel continues. “I had issues because my brother did not wish me to fill the place of the other Fallen archangels. He had many supporters, too.”
“Your brother?” Dean’s trying to remember all the angels he knew.
“Raphael.”
“Oh, God. That dick? Yeah, I bet he didn’t want you in charge after you called him your bitch. That was pretty funny, though, Cas.” He allows himself to reminisce for a moment. Then he grins when he remembers the awkwardness Castiel expressed at the mere mention of sex. Technically, Castiel had died--again--while still a virgin, but Dean doesn’t consider the promise broken since Cas is still alive.
“Funny isn’t exactly how I would have phrased it,” Cas responds, dryly. “Nor would he. But, after being faced with evidence that God is indeed alive, that Lucifer is in his Cage, and that I am now as powerful as him, Raphael could no longer doubt my right to his ordained level. He is now on what you might term a ‘time-out’.”
If Dean didn‘t know better, he’d say Castiel was smirking.
“I also thought you’d like to know about the new management team downstairs. Crowley stepped into Lucifer’s rule as overlord of Hell.”
“I bet that’s a blast for everyone involved.”
“I’m not inclined to become friends, per se, but I think Hell will be better for it. I believe a working relationship may develop. He also returned Bobby’s soul.”
Dean grumbles. “Doesn’t mean I have to like him.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Cas says with that knowing reflection in his eyes. “But I think you’ll have a lot less demon problems. Crowley rewards sin, but is less on the torture and raising of Lucifer. He’s keeping those rings on lockdown.”
A thought occurs to Dean. “With your new freaky amped-up angel-mojo, I don’t suppose you can get Sam out of the pit?”
Castiel looks at him sadly. “Dean, if it were that simple, I’d have known before he Fell.”
Dean shrugs, feeling his eyes start to tear and pinches the bridge of his nose to keep them from falling. He didn’t expect it would be that easy, anyway. “It was worth a shot.”
Castiel comes closer and crouches at Dean’s knees. “I would bring him back if I could, Dean. Surely you know that. I’d give anything. I would give these powers right back.” One hand rests on Dean’s knee as he says this, the other moving to rest on his own chest, hand over heart. It’s too much for Dean to handle.
“It’s fine.” He doesn’t like this conversation. Castiel talking about Falling for him again. He can’t have that. “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?” Castiel looks puzzled.
“Sit like that. It’s freaking me out. You’re an archangel now. Don’t look all…” he waves a hand, not even sure himself what he’s getting at. It just seems wrong for Cas to be kneeling in front of him.
“As you wish.” Castiel stands and Dean has to look up now. The angel’s face is beatific, not really smiling, but Dean can tell he’s amused nonetheless. His eyes are a brighter blue than ever; though maybe Dean never let himself really look. Castiel offers a hand to him. Dean grudgingly takes it.
“Dean. I want to offer you sanctuary.”
“Sanctuary?” It’s Dean’s turn to be confused.
“Heaven, Dean. I know without your brother life will be hard. But I can take it away. Not the grief, not the good memories. But the pain. Heaven is slowly changing. You can visit friends and family, now. You won’t be alone.”
Dean can’t process this. He opens his mouth and closes it when Castiel shushes him. The angel is still holding his hand, he realizes. It doesn’t occur to him to take it back.
“I know that you like to live the hard way. I can’t bring your brother back and for that, I am truly sorry. But I have spoken to John and Mary. They remembered everything Michael erased once they returned to Heaven. They are deeply saddened by the loss of your brother, but they are infinitely proud of you both. Ash and Ellen and Jo and Pam all now abide in the Roadhouse, trading jokes and reminiscing with John and Mary.
“And we can work together to figure out a way to separate Sam and Lucifer. Perhaps Adam as well, from Michael. We’d have eternity. And, well…”
Cas brings his hands up and places them on Dean’s face. He bites his lip, lower lip caught between perfectly white teeth. It’s so human, Dean can’t decide whether he wants to laugh or collapse with relief that though Castiel may now have the powers of an archangel, he retains some of the humanity he learned in his time on Earth.
“I must admit, I would be happy to have you. There, in Heaven, I mean.”
“What?” Dean finally speaks up. The hands along his face practically hurt for all their tenderness. He’s blinking back tears now for real, at the image of all his family and friends reunited in peace.
Castiel shoots him a look, one that reminds him of that night seemingly so long ago, when the angel betrayed Heaven for him by telling him about prophets and archangels: sneaky, mischievous. But there’s something more, too. Something that sends a little thrill through Dean’s body.
“I have grown fond of you, as you must know. I have never had…a friend, before you. Not really. Anna and I were once close but--”
“How did you remain a virgin with her hanging around, anyway?” Dean grins, trying to break the serious mood.
Castiel rolls his eyes. “Not all of us are as physically-minded as you, Dean. Now I am glad for it. It might otherwise be awkward.”
“Because I had sex with her?” Dean laughs. “You have no idea, Cas. This one time--”
Castiel places his hand over Dean’s mouth and there is again, like déjà vu, the knowledge that this conversation is repeating so many things that have happened before, but within a different context. “I do not wish to hear about your dalliances. It is best if you keep them to yourself.”
The air ripples and the windows seem to shake with the force of the angel’s heated words. Castiel, though, merely gives his small smile and moves his hand from Dean’s mouth onto his shoulder where he can feel the heat of it through the thin blue cotton of his tee. The other hand creeps to the back of his neck, and Dean’s ashamed to say he closes his eyes and leans into the touch for a moment.
“My point is, Dean, you do not have to live on Earth for your remaining years, hunting, being sad about your brother. Heaven is no longer the prison you imagined it to be. Many of us would be pleased if you returned.”
Dean is nearly lost in the sweet pleasure of Castiel’s fingers rubbing against the base of his neck, sifting through the short hairs there. It’s absent-minded, he’s sure; the touch is light and random. His whole body tingles like he’s standing next to a current of electricity.
His hands search for an anchor; after a moment, they rest on the trench coat’s lapels. His knuckles turn white for a moment with his inner struggle. “Cas, I can’t,” he grits out.
It’s one of the hardest things he’s ever had to say. Castiel’s offer is tempting, tempting beyond belief. Dean is so tired. He wants to be done. Without his brother, he doesn’t want to live. It’s like he’s missing a limb; more like he’s missing half of himself. And even though what he believes Castiel is offering in the layering of his words would fill part of that--a different part, perhaps--it’s not the same.
He looks up into vivid blue eyes that stare penetratingly into his own. Castiel’s eyes have always housed an ancientness to them, but now, they glow, too. It’s like his Grace is hardly contained within the vessel anymore.
“I don’t want to be saved. I have to live. Because I promised him.” He laughs sadly. “I promised him I’d go live the apple pie life he always wanted and couldn’t have. The life I’ve somehow found myself wishing for in recent years. No, it’s not going to be perfect. Maybe it’s not Heaven. But give me Earth with its dirtiness and its imperfections. Give me humanity with its free will and the choice between good and bad. My life is small, but I can still make a difference.” He pauses. “I can go be a good father.”
Castiel looks at him with a sad, yet fond expression. “Your life is not small, Dean. You are the most righteous man I know. You bested the Devil. You are more powerful than any angel because you did not submit to the call of destiny.”
Dean feels himself blushing and looks down, away from those knowing eyes. Castiel could always get to him with that stare. The angel knows him best; perhaps better than himself.
Castiel tilts his chin back up though, and Dean didn’t think it was possible, but the angel presses closer. “If you are sure…”
“I’m not,” Dean’s voice cracks. “I’m not sure at all. But I made a promise.”
Castiel nods once. He leans forward and their breath mingles. For a moment, Dean believes the angel will kiss him on the lips--his eyes close and his mouth parts in anticipation. Castiel’s hands come up and frame his face once more, then he raises on his toes a little, kissing Dean on the forehead instead.
It’s a benediction.
Castiel steps out of Dean’s space and he’s left feeling more hollow than before.
“When you are ready, then. We’ll be waiting.” The angel smiles, a full smile, free of the torture of his future self, free of all angelic awkwardness. It’s honest and true. “I’ll be waiting…I’m known for my patience,” Cas tacks on at the end with a further quirk of the lips and a gleam in his eyes.
Dean feels the air in the room move and he hears wings shift in preparation, but for the first time, the angel doesn’t just blink out. His vessel begins to blur at the edges and that light shines from within, strong enough that Dean is forced to squint, until he’s nothing so much as a set of piercing blue eyes, a soft smile, and an impression of black wings. Then he’s gone.
It would figure. Their last meeting (in this life, anyway), Castiel finally fulfills all the angel stereotype perceptions Dean might have had. Sometime later, Dean falls asleep with a smile echoing on his own lips and he’s never felt so protected in his life. He knows now he really does have angels watching over him.
***
The next day, he gets to Lisa’s in the early evening where he’s welcomed with open arms and he lets himself really cry for the first time since it all ended. It’s not all for Sam, either.
He settles in fairly well. He’s already missed out on the formative training of Ben, but that’s probably for the best. Ben is smart: like Sam, like Lisa. But he likes Dean’s music and Dean’s car and when he’s sixteen, Dean gives it to him with hardly any threats about damaging the paint job.
Dean never stops looking for some way to get Sammy out of the pit. It’s not urgent, though. He made that promise, too. Sometimes, he can’t help but feel as though Sam is there with him anyway, and not just in Ben’s mannerisms or his puppy dog eyes. It’s a feeling he can’t shake.
They’re kept safe and Dean doesn’t ever have to deal with another monster or demon unless he goes looking for them. It seems Crowley has kept the demons away and Castiel keeps Heaven at bay. Each night he tucks Ben in and kisses Lisa good night. His life has never been bad and perhaps it’s even been good; from those moments when he shot off bottle rockets with Sam to teaching Ben to drive. Maybe he’s not happy, but he’s content.
After all, he knows what--and who--is waiting for him on the other side.
Author: MF Luder
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Keywords: pre-slash, ust, episode coda
Rating: G
Word Count: ~3,400
Warnings: None
Spoilers: 5x22 “Swan Song”
Disclaimer: All characters herein belong to Kripke and Co. and the CW.
Archive: My LJ, anywhere else, please let me know
Summary: Castiel never said goodbye.
Feedback: skin.walker2y5@gmail.com
Author’s Notes: Title stolen from my new fav song “Breathe” by Superchick. Also, this has officially been Kripked by the new casting news, but I have never been so excited to have something tossed out the window as I am now. Betaed by the awesome
rhymephile who was very kind to help me in the midst of moving. ♥Dean stays with Bobby for two days, making sure he’s settled back in. They drink a lot of booze and don’t talk. Not much, anyway; if there was anyone who could understand, who could get through his outer shell besides Sam, it was Bobby. He makes sure to have Bobby promise to kill Crowley if he sees the bastard again, because the demon still has his soul and old habits die hard. It might not be as heartfelt as Dean makes it sound, though; in the face of losing his brother, letting one arrogant self-serving demon live seems like small potatoes.
The world doesn’t suddenly become sunshine and rainbows right away. Storms and wars and disease don’t disappear even without the Horsemen perpetuating them. Dean doesn’t really care about the world right now, either.
In fact, he hardly cares at all. He made a promise to Sam, but it can keep a few more days. He can’t face Lisa like this; she doesn’t deserve it. So when he leaves Bobby’s he drives until his eyes betray him and stops at a motel in Booneville, Missouri, right off I-70. He’ll make it to Lisa’s in Indiana the next day, but for now, he’s hardly slept more than two hours since Sam fell in the pit, preferring the alcoholic haze.
He doesn’t bother seeking out the good little diner that’s usually in towns like this and instead just walks over to the Burger King across from his motel. He opens the food wrappers when he returns, turning on the surprisingly up-to-date TV to find a rerun of Dr. Sexy, MD. He takes one look at the burger, though, and dumps it in the trash, choosing to pick at the fries after he discovers the only reruns currently airing are procedural cop shows. God, he really hates CSI: Miami. Although that blonde chick is kind of hot.
He showers and does a full on face-plant onto the bed after slipping into a clean tee and boxer shorts. He falls into a dreamless sleep to the sounds of Jimmy Fallon playing beer pong.
***
He wakes up to a silenced TV and the intense feeling someone is in the room with him. He doesn’t reach for a weapon because he already knows who it is.
“Couldn’t stay away long, huh?”
“It occurs to me,” comes Castiel’s rough voice as the bed dips beside Dean, “that I never said goodbye.”
“You do kind of suck at those,” Dean states, not bothering to turn over, though he does wipe the drool from the corner of his mouth with a hand.
“Dean.”
He sighs and flips over, blinking his eyes a few times, adjusting to the darkness so that he can make out the newly full-fledged angel. Castiel is wearing the same damn trench coat but he looks more pristine than he has in nearly a year. It’s like all traces of humanity have been washed away. Dean would swear his hair is even more messy; the angel looks as though he put his finger in an electric socket.
“God promotes you and you still can’t afford a new wardrobe?”
Castiel looks down at himself and fingers the tan hem. “I admit, I find myself particularly attached to the clothing. And I wouldn’t know what to wear otherwise.”
“Well, at least you’re not naked, I guess,” Dean grumps, but he doesn’t say it to be mean.
“I suspected you wouldn’t appreciate that,” Castiel says with a barely-there smile pulling at his lips.
They sit in silence for a few moments and it’s not uncomfortable exactly, but there’s definitely something unspoken growing. Dean sighs and sits up, finding himself shoulder-to-shoulder with the angel.
“Why are you here, Castiel? Heaven not done with me?”
The angel looks at him strangely. “You have not called me Castiel for nearly two years, now.”
“Yeah, well, feels like a business meeting. And you’re all juiced up again. I suppose I should call you your grown-up name.” Dean makes a face.
“You are lying,” Castiel responds, softly.
Yes, he is. Using the angel’s full name makes it easier, somehow. Reminds him this is an angel he is dealing with, despite the loose shoulders and unthreatening air Cas-Castiel brought with him this time. He’s still a little upset the angel just blinked out on him, practically in the middle of a conversation, that night Sam fell in the pit.
“Just get it over with, ok?”
“Get what over with?” Castiel appears confused.
“The part where you say Heaven has one last task for me. Then we can get to the part where I say I’m done and I’m never doing anything for Heaven or Hell or anybody else ever again. I made Sam a promise and I intend to keep it. And then you can fly off and sheriff your paradise.”
“Dean,” Castiel shakes his head. “Can nothing ever be simple with you? You can’t believe I would come to simply talk?”
“You angels always have an agenda.” Dean feels bitterness wash over him and he stands in order to pace. He glances up just in time to see the light from the street lamps illuminate the hurt that washes over Castiel’s face. Whatever. It doesn’t matter, anymore. Nothing does.
“I apologize. I can see it was a mistake now. I shall leave you.” Castiel stands and Dean swears he can feel a shift in the air at the same time he hears something that might be wings and he throws out a hand.
“Wait.”
Castiel pauses and turns back to him, face expressionless.
“I’m sorry, I’m-” being an asshole, he thinks, “Tired. You didn’t deserve that. What’s up?”
The awesome thing about Cas is his ability to forgive so easily. He lets Dean’s doucheyness slide. “I found…I felt…I believe the appropriate phrasing would be that I missed you.”
“You missed me?” Well, if that isn’t a shock and a half. “You’ve been gone for two days, dude.”
Castiel sighs, managing to look put upon without ever changing his expression. “Dean, if you had ever paid attention to me, you’d recall Heaven operates on its own time, just like Hell. It changes. But it has been the equivalent feeling of a human month for me. I’d have come sooner but I had things to attend to.”
Dean plops in the shaky wicker-backed chair in the room. “How is Heaven shaping up?”
“Well, I believe. There were some issues at first, but they have been sorted out.”
“Issues?” Dean raises his eyebrows. “What kind of issues?”
The angel spreads his hands. “As you know, there was a power vacuum. One archangel dead, another locked in the Cage with Lucifer, our Father still gone…and I found myself more powerful than before.”
“Well, yeah. You brought Bobby back to life.”
Castiel stares at him as though he’s dense. Which he might be. “Dean. I walked into Hell, fighting hordes of demons and pulled you out, a lost and nearly demonic soul. I made your body whole and breathed life into it. Bringing Bobby back from Purgatory was…a ‘cake-walk,’ as you might say.”
Well, when he put it like that…
“What I mean to say is that I am no longer a mere soldier. I am,” he pauses and Dean would bet his life it’s for dramatic effect, though he’s never known Cas to be proud. “I am an archangel now.”
And that…that makes so much sense. Dean can’t say he’s entirely surprised, but it’s still a bit of a shock. Castiel had been human, so frail he had to take a bus to get to Dean and Sam, and now he’s an archangel? He’s glad he’s sitting down.
Castiel continues. “I had issues because my brother did not wish me to fill the place of the other Fallen archangels. He had many supporters, too.”
“Your brother?” Dean’s trying to remember all the angels he knew.
“Raphael.”
“Oh, God. That dick? Yeah, I bet he didn’t want you in charge after you called him your bitch. That was pretty funny, though, Cas.” He allows himself to reminisce for a moment. Then he grins when he remembers the awkwardness Castiel expressed at the mere mention of sex. Technically, Castiel had died--again--while still a virgin, but Dean doesn’t consider the promise broken since Cas is still alive.
“Funny isn’t exactly how I would have phrased it,” Cas responds, dryly. “Nor would he. But, after being faced with evidence that God is indeed alive, that Lucifer is in his Cage, and that I am now as powerful as him, Raphael could no longer doubt my right to his ordained level. He is now on what you might term a ‘time-out’.”
If Dean didn‘t know better, he’d say Castiel was smirking.
“I also thought you’d like to know about the new management team downstairs. Crowley stepped into Lucifer’s rule as overlord of Hell.”
“I bet that’s a blast for everyone involved.”
“I’m not inclined to become friends, per se, but I think Hell will be better for it. I believe a working relationship may develop. He also returned Bobby’s soul.”
Dean grumbles. “Doesn’t mean I have to like him.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Cas says with that knowing reflection in his eyes. “But I think you’ll have a lot less demon problems. Crowley rewards sin, but is less on the torture and raising of Lucifer. He’s keeping those rings on lockdown.”
A thought occurs to Dean. “With your new freaky amped-up angel-mojo, I don’t suppose you can get Sam out of the pit?”
Castiel looks at him sadly. “Dean, if it were that simple, I’d have known before he Fell.”
Dean shrugs, feeling his eyes start to tear and pinches the bridge of his nose to keep them from falling. He didn’t expect it would be that easy, anyway. “It was worth a shot.”
Castiel comes closer and crouches at Dean’s knees. “I would bring him back if I could, Dean. Surely you know that. I’d give anything. I would give these powers right back.” One hand rests on Dean’s knee as he says this, the other moving to rest on his own chest, hand over heart. It’s too much for Dean to handle.
“It’s fine.” He doesn’t like this conversation. Castiel talking about Falling for him again. He can’t have that. “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?” Castiel looks puzzled.
“Sit like that. It’s freaking me out. You’re an archangel now. Don’t look all…” he waves a hand, not even sure himself what he’s getting at. It just seems wrong for Cas to be kneeling in front of him.
“As you wish.” Castiel stands and Dean has to look up now. The angel’s face is beatific, not really smiling, but Dean can tell he’s amused nonetheless. His eyes are a brighter blue than ever; though maybe Dean never let himself really look. Castiel offers a hand to him. Dean grudgingly takes it.
“Dean. I want to offer you sanctuary.”
“Sanctuary?” It’s Dean’s turn to be confused.
“Heaven, Dean. I know without your brother life will be hard. But I can take it away. Not the grief, not the good memories. But the pain. Heaven is slowly changing. You can visit friends and family, now. You won’t be alone.”
Dean can’t process this. He opens his mouth and closes it when Castiel shushes him. The angel is still holding his hand, he realizes. It doesn’t occur to him to take it back.
“I know that you like to live the hard way. I can’t bring your brother back and for that, I am truly sorry. But I have spoken to John and Mary. They remembered everything Michael erased once they returned to Heaven. They are deeply saddened by the loss of your brother, but they are infinitely proud of you both. Ash and Ellen and Jo and Pam all now abide in the Roadhouse, trading jokes and reminiscing with John and Mary.
“And we can work together to figure out a way to separate Sam and Lucifer. Perhaps Adam as well, from Michael. We’d have eternity. And, well…”
Cas brings his hands up and places them on Dean’s face. He bites his lip, lower lip caught between perfectly white teeth. It’s so human, Dean can’t decide whether he wants to laugh or collapse with relief that though Castiel may now have the powers of an archangel, he retains some of the humanity he learned in his time on Earth.
“I must admit, I would be happy to have you. There, in Heaven, I mean.”
“What?” Dean finally speaks up. The hands along his face practically hurt for all their tenderness. He’s blinking back tears now for real, at the image of all his family and friends reunited in peace.
Castiel shoots him a look, one that reminds him of that night seemingly so long ago, when the angel betrayed Heaven for him by telling him about prophets and archangels: sneaky, mischievous. But there’s something more, too. Something that sends a little thrill through Dean’s body.
“I have grown fond of you, as you must know. I have never had…a friend, before you. Not really. Anna and I were once close but--”
“How did you remain a virgin with her hanging around, anyway?” Dean grins, trying to break the serious mood.
Castiel rolls his eyes. “Not all of us are as physically-minded as you, Dean. Now I am glad for it. It might otherwise be awkward.”
“Because I had sex with her?” Dean laughs. “You have no idea, Cas. This one time--”
Castiel places his hand over Dean’s mouth and there is again, like déjà vu, the knowledge that this conversation is repeating so many things that have happened before, but within a different context. “I do not wish to hear about your dalliances. It is best if you keep them to yourself.”
The air ripples and the windows seem to shake with the force of the angel’s heated words. Castiel, though, merely gives his small smile and moves his hand from Dean’s mouth onto his shoulder where he can feel the heat of it through the thin blue cotton of his tee. The other hand creeps to the back of his neck, and Dean’s ashamed to say he closes his eyes and leans into the touch for a moment.
“My point is, Dean, you do not have to live on Earth for your remaining years, hunting, being sad about your brother. Heaven is no longer the prison you imagined it to be. Many of us would be pleased if you returned.”
Dean is nearly lost in the sweet pleasure of Castiel’s fingers rubbing against the base of his neck, sifting through the short hairs there. It’s absent-minded, he’s sure; the touch is light and random. His whole body tingles like he’s standing next to a current of electricity.
His hands search for an anchor; after a moment, they rest on the trench coat’s lapels. His knuckles turn white for a moment with his inner struggle. “Cas, I can’t,” he grits out.
It’s one of the hardest things he’s ever had to say. Castiel’s offer is tempting, tempting beyond belief. Dean is so tired. He wants to be done. Without his brother, he doesn’t want to live. It’s like he’s missing a limb; more like he’s missing half of himself. And even though what he believes Castiel is offering in the layering of his words would fill part of that--a different part, perhaps--it’s not the same.
He looks up into vivid blue eyes that stare penetratingly into his own. Castiel’s eyes have always housed an ancientness to them, but now, they glow, too. It’s like his Grace is hardly contained within the vessel anymore.
“I don’t want to be saved. I have to live. Because I promised him.” He laughs sadly. “I promised him I’d go live the apple pie life he always wanted and couldn’t have. The life I’ve somehow found myself wishing for in recent years. No, it’s not going to be perfect. Maybe it’s not Heaven. But give me Earth with its dirtiness and its imperfections. Give me humanity with its free will and the choice between good and bad. My life is small, but I can still make a difference.” He pauses. “I can go be a good father.”
Castiel looks at him with a sad, yet fond expression. “Your life is not small, Dean. You are the most righteous man I know. You bested the Devil. You are more powerful than any angel because you did not submit to the call of destiny.”
Dean feels himself blushing and looks down, away from those knowing eyes. Castiel could always get to him with that stare. The angel knows him best; perhaps better than himself.
Castiel tilts his chin back up though, and Dean didn’t think it was possible, but the angel presses closer. “If you are sure…”
“I’m not,” Dean’s voice cracks. “I’m not sure at all. But I made a promise.”
Castiel nods once. He leans forward and their breath mingles. For a moment, Dean believes the angel will kiss him on the lips--his eyes close and his mouth parts in anticipation. Castiel’s hands come up and frame his face once more, then he raises on his toes a little, kissing Dean on the forehead instead.
It’s a benediction.
Castiel steps out of Dean’s space and he’s left feeling more hollow than before.
“When you are ready, then. We’ll be waiting.” The angel smiles, a full smile, free of the torture of his future self, free of all angelic awkwardness. It’s honest and true. “I’ll be waiting…I’m known for my patience,” Cas tacks on at the end with a further quirk of the lips and a gleam in his eyes.
Dean feels the air in the room move and he hears wings shift in preparation, but for the first time, the angel doesn’t just blink out. His vessel begins to blur at the edges and that light shines from within, strong enough that Dean is forced to squint, until he’s nothing so much as a set of piercing blue eyes, a soft smile, and an impression of black wings. Then he’s gone.
It would figure. Their last meeting (in this life, anyway), Castiel finally fulfills all the angel stereotype perceptions Dean might have had. Sometime later, Dean falls asleep with a smile echoing on his own lips and he’s never felt so protected in his life. He knows now he really does have angels watching over him.
***
The next day, he gets to Lisa’s in the early evening where he’s welcomed with open arms and he lets himself really cry for the first time since it all ended. It’s not all for Sam, either.
He settles in fairly well. He’s already missed out on the formative training of Ben, but that’s probably for the best. Ben is smart: like Sam, like Lisa. But he likes Dean’s music and Dean’s car and when he’s sixteen, Dean gives it to him with hardly any threats about damaging the paint job.
Dean never stops looking for some way to get Sammy out of the pit. It’s not urgent, though. He made that promise, too. Sometimes, he can’t help but feel as though Sam is there with him anyway, and not just in Ben’s mannerisms or his puppy dog eyes. It’s a feeling he can’t shake.
They’re kept safe and Dean doesn’t ever have to deal with another monster or demon unless he goes looking for them. It seems Crowley has kept the demons away and Castiel keeps Heaven at bay. Each night he tucks Ben in and kisses Lisa good night. His life has never been bad and perhaps it’s even been good; from those moments when he shot off bottle rockets with Sam to teaching Ben to drive. Maybe he’s not happy, but he’s content.
After all, he knows what--and who--is waiting for him on the other side.
