Gift type: Fanfic

Title: Between the Fragile Seams

Author: OpheliacAngel (Ivory_Angel99 on LJ)

Recipient: felicia_angel

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language, some gore and a hint of dub-con

Spoilers: None

Word Count: 9,701

Summary: The mission was the only thing standing in the way of him and his sons, but it was anything but simple and it was everything but easy. AU where John Winchester is rescued from hell by angels and given an important job.

Author notes: The prompt was 'John Winchester is brought back to life to track down the renegade angel Castiel. Finding out that his sons owe Castiel their lives means that he has to reconsider. Discovering that Castiel and Dean are a couple makes things a bit harder...' I tried to add in as many tags and likes that you mentioned also, so I can only hope that you'll enjoy what I put together. Most of all, thanks for letting me work with this awesome prompt; I guess you can tell I got carried away with it. Song lyrics are from the Timber Timbre and Feist song 'Homage.'

~There is a seam between the breath and the staired descent

We back up - in which direction will get us out

Homage homage is coming back around

Coming back through you - to something I can't understand~

John Winchester had one mission and one mission alone. It would be easy, hunting down the angel, maybe not as easy as tracking down monsters and ridding the Earth of them, but he was determined to find the rogue angel and drag him back to where he belonged: heaven. The angels hadn't given him much, but the blade and sigil they had afforded him with would have to do, as well as his only several quick hours of research into angels. He was confident that he could do it, but also completely prepared to face the unexpected.

The hunter had to admit that he hadn't liked the angels that had dragged him out of the pit. They had been self-righteous and complete assholes overall, but they had gotten him out of hell, so he would have to play his part. Then he would get the hell out and run, find his sons and somehow make up for all the lost years. He owed them that, after all.

He tried to get with it, to keep his mind focused on what needed to be done, but the situation he found himself in and the circumstances that brought it about were less than savory. The angels had brought him back, yes, but they still left him to do the dirty work.

Crawling up out of his own grave had been an unforgettable experience for sure. It had been hell, for lack of a better word.

He could remember nothing but confusion and pain as the dank wood of his coffin collapsed in on him and he fought for air and room to move. The dirt had been crushing in on him, desperate for entrance, frantic to keep him there. He hadn't known how he had done it but he did, and as his hands and mouth found the open air, grasping it and breathing it in, a surge of happiness shot through him. He was happy that his boys hadn't burned him, but he was also less than thrilled at his lack of a welcoming after being brought out of the pit.

Standing had been another less than memorable struggle, but once he stood up on his own two feet he felt free and hopeful and alive again. He hadn't gotten a chance to get his bearings, being whisked away only moments afterward and finding himself in another location entirely.

John hadn't believed they were angels until he saw the shadow of their massive wings on the concrete wall, still hadn't fully believed it until he felt their movement all around him, a living presence that haunted his psyche. It felt like a new world to him as he took it all in, but he knew deep down that it was still the same world he had raised his boys in. There were only more dangers brought to his attention, things he had been too blind to see.

If there were demons then there had to be something else in contrast, and angels seemed to fit into that empty, wary spot.

He breathed a sigh as he slipped the key into the ignition of the rental car and hit the road. As much as he missed the familiar purr of the Impala, he missed Dean more. He didn't go at the right time, but at least he had been able to see his eldest one final time before allowing Azazel to tear him away from his boy forever. There had been far too many words he had wanted to speak, and the confusion on Dean's face had pained him greatly, but it had all been worth that what he had thought to be final moment.

As soon as the angels answered his demands and convinced him that his boys were alive and well, he gave up the fight and received the location of his prey. He didn't know much about the angel, only that he had obtained a male vessel, though that might change, but as for what it had done to be exiled in heaven, he had no idea and honestly didn't care. He would treat the thing as just another monster, just another thing that threatened the world.

John found it strange that the angel was staying put, since it only made him an easy target, but most of him was just relieved at the prospect of getting the job done early.

He found hope as he imagined proving to his boys that his life without them wouldn't be forever anymore. He would do as the angels commanded, and even though they hadn't exactly promised that they would let him go after the job was done, he would have his reunion with Sam and Dean anyway, world be damned.

The angels had pushed him, but John could only do so much driving as he suffered through the effects of being buried for at least several years. The air didn't feel right to him as he tried to breathe it in calmly and normally, and his hands wouldn't stop shaking as he gripped the steering wheel tight. He didn't want to leave the world again, he would use his second chance and he would fight, but John could barely keep it together under the realization that he was supposed to be dead, and that the angels may yet send him back to the pit after all had been said and done.

He was John Winchester, he should have been able to handle it.

Get it together, old man. Just do this thing and you'll be one step closer to what you want most.

Despite the lack of an adjustment period, he pushed himself because the alternative was being moved to the location forcefully, and John didn't want to have anything to do with that. The ten day drive only took four, and he had to force himself to not breathe a sigh of relief as he pulled the truck up a good distance away from the motel. The job wasn't done yet, far from it.

He wished he had something to drink or some pills to take the edge off, but he had no time and he brushed it from his mind. The next several hours were spent watching and waiting, and just when he was about to lose his patience and nearly his nerve at the fact that he was about to capture an actual angel, he caught sight of the vessel and honed in on his binoculars.

It was definitely him: tan trench coat and short black hair. That was the part where he had to be careful though, because it was still a possibility that the angel could have shifted vessels. It had to know that it was being tracked.

Then again, it probably didn't expect John.

He tensed, though immediately moved to prepare his weapons as soon as it retreated inside the motel, the blinds drawn and the night around him silent except for the wind whistling slightly through the trees. He drew a deep breath and prepared, knowing there was no need to inform the angels, since they already no doubt knew where he was.

Let me come out of this alive. Bring me back safe to my sons. Please.

He geared up and prepared to enter.

Once more, the hunter let go of all expectations and prepared himself to be ready for anything.

He'd seen plenty of strange things in his time, but he never knew prior to several days ago that angels existed. He had never found the time to consider that there must be something out there in contrast to demons. Sure, there had been plenty of time for thought in the pit, but most of the time it was masked by agony and guilt for all the things he hadn't been able to do in his life. The angels weren't much better than the demons, but at least they had gotten him out, away from the blade and away from his pain and his guilt.

He hovered by the window, knowing he needed to act fast before the angel sensed his presence, but he still couldn't help but try to see beyond the one blind left askew. Nothing but darkness. Dammit.

John surged forward and opened the door, shutting it quietly behind him. There were whispered voices somewhere to his right, and from them he could tell that the angel wasn't the only one in the room. He readied his gun, felt the blade in his back pocket and moved closer to the voices. Moonlight streamed through the window, but John couldn't make out much before someone turned on a lamp.

The angel was sitting on the room's lone bed, his back to him and it was perhaps the best vantage point he would get. Someone was lying under him, someone he seemed to be concentrating on, someone John knew, someone John -

Dean...

There was no hesitation when he saw his boy underneath the angel, lying there vulnerable and all too exposed. As soon as Dean glanced up and John saw his panicked eyes, he fired at his target, already moving closer with the blade as soon as he was confident that he hit the angel. Dean, while shocked, reacted as quickly as he did though, shoving the angel off of him even though it clearly resisted, and then struggling to get up off the bed.

Every part of John seethed in rage, seeing the blood on Dean's chest and face, and he would have found the angel again if his eldest didn't launch up off the bed and put his hand on John's own, trying to pry the blade from his hand. "Dad, stop!" But John didn't listen to his son's frantic voice, and he shoved Dean away from him without thinking, tuning out all sound around him as he sought out the angel; it was the only way he could finish it.

Darkness crowded in on his vision as the moon seemed to slink away. He struggled on, knowing he needed to find that damn angel before he hurt Dean further. Knowing he needed to end it once and for all. John dared to take a breath, but he was startled by something attacking him from behind and without thinking, with pure instinct, he whirled around and allowed the blade to connect with its target.

"Dean!"

He finally looked up and he met startled - no - scared hazel eyes. Also, without thought or hesitation, the blade dropped from his hand and he tried to breathe, but it only came out as a choked sound. He had seen Dean hurt plenty of times before, but nothing like that, nothing by his own hand. It didn't make sense, Dean not staying away, Dean telling him to stop -

Fuck... no...

Blood bubbled up from underneath Dean's skin - red red blood that became the entirety of John's world - and he collapsed, the angel reappearing and catching him before his fragile body could touch the concrete. John's hands were shaking, and his eyes were wide, panicked and confused as he watched the angel scream out his son's name. The angel he was supposed to kill, the angel he was -

Dean's mouth opened but no sound came out, only a stream of blood that trailed down his chest and stomach and made John both want to touch him and know that he couldn't.

"We need to leave," the angel commanded, already pulling Dean further into his open arms. Blood was gushing out of him, and soon it was drenching the angel's arms and the concrete beneath them.

"Let him..." He reached for his son, as if to stop the flow of blood, but a blinding white light crowded in on him and cut him off, and he sunk beneath its calm energy, not knowing what else to do.

"...Sam?" It was the first thing John heard as he pushed himself out from underneath the overpowering waves of light. He glanced around quickly, noticing he was in some sort of warehouse, before bending down and giving his son his full attention. "Where's Sam?" The voice said again, wet-sounding and barely there, as if he were choking, and John realized that it was Dean.

"I don't know, Dean. Fuck, I didn't even expect you to be here." There was no reason whatsoever why Dean was with the very thing he was hunting, no explanation he could think up without losing both his control and his temper.

"Dad?" Before he could answer him, the angel walked forward and quickly shifted his son to a bed that hadn't been there before. Dean groaned in protest, but his eyes remained solely on his father. "We almost burned you," he whispered, though it came out as more of a gurgle, and then his eyes started to close.

"Stay with me, Dean!" The angel demanded of him, his voice deep and rough, but it sounded desperate in a way that John couldn't comprehend.

Every impulse in his body told him to take that creature down, to pick up the blade left forgotten on the floor, marred by his son's blood, and plunge it into his chest. Or even just to do as he had been told and restrain him somehow, bring him to heaven so he could finally be free and enjoy being alive again. Everything he had in him told him to get the angel away from Dean, but then the moonlight filtered in through the lone window and he could see the shadow of wings against the farthest wall, and he lost it right then and there because it looked like they were shielding Dean from the world.

The blood on his trench coat was too sudden and too real.

If the angel was there to hurt his son, he would have done it already. Considering he should have every right to kill John after he shot him, not giving John so much as a mere glance worried him.

He knelt down next to Dean; he couldn't lose it now, not when his son still needed him.

The angel looked Dean over thoroughly, his seemingly larger than life presence pushing John to the side as he racked his mind for what to do. Every motion the thing made seemed frantic and even despairing. "I cannot heal him here. They will find us if I do, though I am sure they are already tracking you."

John couldn't take it anymore, he grabbed the thing by the lapels of its vessel's coat and slammed it up against the farthest wall. The angel let him, though its glare was no less menacing than the angels that had first confronted him altogether seemed. "Who are you really, and what have you done to my son?"

"The only reason I have towards not slaughtering you at this very moment is because I am aware that you mean a great deal to Dean." Its anger was palpable, but John couldn't care.

"Don't you ever say his name," the hunter gritted out, "you don't know him." You'll never know my boy.

He seemed to rise up a hundred feet then, and John shrank under him. He knew he was way beyond fucked at that point anyway. "I was the one who raised him from perdition, who rebelled for him, who protected him at any and all costs. It appears to me that you know less about your son than I do. That, and your lack of presence when he has needed you the most, John Winchester."

John was left absolutely speechless after that, allowing the angel to be drawn back towards his son. He fell back against the wall, allowing it to take a portion of his weight for the moment, running a hand through his hair as he tried to convince himself that the angel was lying. He had no reason whatsoever to take one word of it at point value, but Dean's actions said otherwise.

If Dean owed the angel his life, then he had to stop and think about going through with the job after all.

Wait for Dean to wake up and let him explain. You owe him that much.

John breathed out heavily because he knew it was true. He had to start trusting Dean, because fuck knows how many times he should have but didn't in the past. It was said that people couldn't change, no matter how hard they tried, but if he fucked up his relationship with Dean the second after being resurrected, he would have no chance, no reason to live. He would change for Dean and for Sam, and he would start by not picking up the blade.

He looked up, "What can you do for him?"

"He will not last much longer. The wound is not as deep as it could be, but as you know, the weapon was not meant for a human. We either need to move to a more secure location, or you must somehow get the angels off our tracks until I am able to heal him. The latter would prove more sufficient."

John shook his head without thinking, "There is no fucking way that I am placing my son's life in your hands. I turn my back and you'll kill him to get away, just as you were trying to do when I found you. Don't think I don't know your kind." Even he didn't stick by his words completely when he said them though, and he knew deep down that if that was the only chance Dean had, that his hand would be forced to take it.

"I was healing him when you came across us, and it is my fault that I did not notice you sooner. I was...," he said it as if he deeply regretted it, "distracted. Though know full well that it is entirely your fault Dean is in this situation."

Fuck, I know that already. I don't need to be reminded. "Then why are you helping him? Why not just let him die?"

"Because it is Dean, and you will never understand unless you open your eyes and see what he needs." The angel, for no discernible reason, seemed like he was trying to get that across to John with everything he had in him. His startling blue eyes seemed to bore into him unceasingly, as if catching a glimpse of his very soul and holding onto its image. Those eyes begged him to listen, begged him to rebel. And fuck if he wasn't breaking under that gaze.

He didn't know what caused him to do it, but he would have rather not thought about it. "Send me back."

The angel walked forward, two fingers reaching for his forehead, and he could feel them make contact just before everything went a startling white again.

The motel room was just as they had left it. There was the sole blind not in its rightful place, and the moonlight streaming in through the window over the bed, and the blankets were left crumpled on the bed, several drops of blood clinging to the fabric -

"John Winchester."

He turned around, already recognizing the voice. "That'd be me."

"Where is Castiel?"

"He sent me back here before I could claim him," he said without having to hesitate. Goddammit, he was starting to think of the angel as a he rather than an it. He was already fucked. "If you could give me his location again..."

"You're lying." It was only her that time, the one in charge; none of the five others flanked her to offer protection or whatever the hell else they were supposed to have been there for. John appreciated it because he no longer felt so outnumbered, but there was something about her particularly that was unsettling. She seemed an entirely different breed than the angel he was supposed to have brought back with him.

He tried to imagine that alternate scenario, the angel with him and ready to face his fate. He knew he did the right thing when he next imagined Dean lying dead on that bed, never having gotten a chance. Fuck knows what damage that blade had caused, and he already knew deep down that he couldn't fix it on his own.

He was going to have to depend on the angel for a little while, and then maybe he would throw him to her.

John merely laughed at her, "You're right, I am lying. But so are you." She raised an eyebrow at that, and John wished that he had never discovered the existence of angels. "If you had told me that my son was going to be there, then maybe things would have gone a little differently."

He expected her angered in her shock, but all she appeared was impressed and willing to admit that what he had said was nothing but truth. Yeah, okay, he really didn't get angels; then again, he didn't want to get them either.

"Your son's presence was a minor setback, I expect you to bring me Castiel this time."

"And if I don't?" She looked bored after he said that, as if he were merely a waste of her time. And then he remembered one very important thing. "No. If you touch one hair on his head..."

"Yes," she interrupted, "I understand, then you'll kill me."

"Wrong," John spoke, only thinking of Sam at that point and what Dean would say in a situation like that, "I'll deep fry you."

With barely a glance behind her, another angel walked out holding Sam tightly to its vessel, a similar blade to John's own held to his neck in warning. John wanted nothing more than to tear his son from that devil's arms, but he knew that Sam would suffer if he took even one step forward. He breathed in and out slowly as he struggled to clear his head and not lose control, but he was losing the fight fast, especially after he saw the condition his youngest son was in.

"We know you possess Castiel. Bring him to us and we will give you your son."

Sam apparently saw that he was about to explode, for he instantly tried to calm him down. "Dad! Dad, it's okay. They didn't touch me, it's from the hunt." John didn't believe him completely, but Sam's calm words grounded him.

"You have thirty-six hours." He held a desperate gaze with his son, but it didn't matter because they disappeared and left him alone, knowing full well that if he didn't snatch Castiel soon, he would never see Sam again.

Being sucked back to the previous location was nothing unexpected.

Knowing the angels backed off some had him feeling a little hopeful, though not much.

John knelt down beside a restless Dean as uneasiness over everything plagued him and threatened to send him to rock bottom. He swallowed hard and focused on his son, who seemed to have grown so much since John had last seen him.

His breathing was labored as he bent close to his chest, and his face was paler than John would've liked. He didn't need to lift the sheet as pale as he was off his stomach, to see the damage he had done, but he did anyway because it was the only way he knew how to take responsibility. He swore under his breath at what his eyes took in and pulled the sheet back down, glancing up quickly when the angel appeared on the other side of Dean.

"I think we have time. Not much, but..."

The second the words left his mouth, the angel lifted the sheet up again. It took everything John had in him not to look away, because even though he had seen injuries far worse, seeing them on Dean and knowing he had caused them was another matter entirely. With no moment of pause, hands were placed above the wound, barely or not touching the skin at all, John couldn't tell. He watched the scene carefully, maintaining a protective stance over his son while a small amount of light poured forth from the angel's hands and sunk into his son's body.

"What're you...?"

"Quiet." He didn't like it but he shut his mouth, telling himself that the angel needed to concentrate, that Dean needed what he had to offer. He sat still and silent for what felt like an eternity, though was likely only five minutes. Finally, the angel pulled away and John looked up at him in shock, with further concern for his son. But when he looked down, there was nothing to worry about.

"You... you healed him." He had hoped against hoped for it, but never expected it.

"He needs rest," the angel told him, appearing completely drained and swaying on his feet slightly. John could only stare in awe as he stumbled away from the both of them. "As do I," he collapsed against one of the walls, as if to catch his breath. John knew he could take him down right then and there, while he was weak, but something held him back, that and the fact that Dean's eyes were opening.

"Dad?" His voice was hoarse, but it was the most beautiful sound John had ever heard. "You're alive."

"Yeah, kiddo," he ruffled his hair and smiled, "angels brought me back. But you don't need to worry about that right now." He examined Dean quickly and once he confirmed that his wound was closed up, he pulled the sheet back over him, noticing he was shivering and exhausted. "Get some sleep."

"Don't kill Cas, kay?"

John looked up at the angel, who was moving towards another room in the warehouse. He took Dean's hand in his own, his thumb rubbing across the cold, clammy surface, desperate to give him some warmth. "I won't."

He remained with him for a while after that, knowing Dean needed to feel the connection yet also knowing he needed to have it too, to feel Dean's pulse and know he was still alive, know that he could still make it right. Eventually, confident that his eldest son would recover, he left the room in search of the angel.

He found him leaning against a wall, seeming remarkably better. John shouldn't have cared, he should have stopped thinking and started acting, but there was no way he could go through on the mission as he had planned.

There was no easy way out.

"You saved my son's life." He didn't look up at that, just stood there like a statue, as if he'd forgotten entirely that John had come to take him back to his superiors. "Thank you."

"I did it for Dean," he spoke simply, voice low but powerful nonetheless, "not for you."

"How long...?"

"You should ask Dean these things." He slipped away from the wall and exited the room, and John felt like something was gripping him and twisting him so fiercely that he couldn't breathe or think or deal with the situation. I need sleep. I haven't gotten sleep since I got out, can't even remember what it feels like. There was an old mattress on the floor and it was calling to him but goddammit, he couldn't let his guard down, not when Dean was vulnerable in the other room and that angel was slinking off to fuck knew where.

He settled for sitting down and pressing his racing mind to quiet. Inevitably, he lost the inner battle and fell asleep, his dreams of the pit until blue eyes pierced through the red and the black and ended them.

He jolted awake, cursing himself loudly after realizing he had fallen asleep against his better judgment. "Dean! Dean..." He stormed into the main room to find Dean sitting up in bed and the angel hovering over him. He ignored him for the time being, sitting down on the bed and placing the back of his hand against his son's forehead, smiling when he noticed a lack of fever. "How're you feeling, Deano?"

"Good," he cleared his throat, "better than I have in a long time."

"Good." He still wasn't completely convinced, but he backed off and allowed Dean some space. "Well," he glanced over at the room's unwanted occupant, "I guess we have a lot of catching up to do."

"It's okay, Cas." The angel left upon hearing his son's confirmation, heading back into the room they had talked, or rather, failed to talk in the night before. Upon noticing his father's concerned gaze, Dean reassured him of the night before. "He was patching me up after a hunt, Dad. I told him not to bother, but Cas is really insistent."

He eyed him warily, "Cas?"

"Yeah," Dean shrugged as if the nickname were nothing, "that's what we call him. Short for Castiel." Before John could respond, Dean started to glance wildly about the room. "Dad, where's Sam?"

He sighed deeply, knowing Dean would be better off knowing the truth. "The angels took him, and they want your angel in return." Dean didn't seem all too surprised over the mess John coming back into their lives had created, but he seemed pissed nonetheless.

"Cas!" The older hunter was amazed to find him come back into the room immediately. The control that Dean seemed to have over the celestial being was astonishing, and caused a series of warning signs to go off in his head. "Did you know about this?" The uneasy silence said all that Dean needed to know, "Dammit, Cas."

"You were resting, Dean. I did not want to wake you."

"Yeah, well, this was something I had the right to know as soon as you did. That goes for you too, Dad. I could've gone with you and gotten Sam."

"And that would have been out of the question, Dean." He didn't want to mention that Dean had nearly died the night before, didn't want to alert his son as to how much that had scared him, about all the things he thought about if Dean hadn't made it, if he had -

"I'm going to handle this."

They want the angel then they'll get him. John was determined over that, and he hardly thought Dean would argue when Sam was back with them. The angel would be out of their lives forever, which meant no more trouble and no more running; not from angels, anyway.

"Tomorrow we kill those sons of bitches once and for all."

John wanted to get it done, but he also knew better than to leave Dean behind, because he knew he would just catch right up to them and give his father yet another source of concern, potentially even giving him a heart attack. It was better that he waited patiently and maybe he could even catch up a little with Dean. He'd been gone for too long, after all.

A full day for Dean to rest and get his strength back didn't seem to register much to his son. Castiel and John spent much of the day shooting Dean death glares when he tried to get up out of bed or complain that he was bored. Despite being bored, he hated being fussed over by the angel and grew aggravated whenever John tried to talk to him.

So even though the talking between the two of them was minimal, he supposed it was better than nothing. Dean told him the major events but didn't talk much about himself, saving much of the praise for Sammy, just as it had always been. Despite his pride over knowing Dean still watched over Sam constantly, just as he had pushed him to do, he felt a surge of misery and even inevitable loss at his eldest son seeming to care so little about himself.

He had a lot of time to think both in hell and while on the road, and he came to the bitter conclusion that Dean would die or become broken beyond repair if he didn't change. But to change Dean, John would have to change first, and that was a helluva lot easier said than done.

John tried to force himself to say something in between Dean's bouts of much needed peaceful sleeping, but somehow when Dean woke up, he could never find the words that Dean wouldn't want to hear but needed to hear. He was a terrible father and he knew it, and he couldn't stop feeling so goddamn miserable about it.

"He's infuriating, isn't he?"

He quickly wiped his eyes and looked up; he knew he couldn't hide things from an angel, he didn't care. "Yeah, Dean's always been like that." He hadn't said it, but he had easily seen in his boy's eyes how happy he was that he was alive, and John wished he could tell him how things would change, how he would make sure that things would change.

"That is what drew me to him in the first place. Something as simple as his selflessness, and the fact that I wished to change that."

John was made even more exhausted by the conversation. "It's a part of him that I fear can't be changed, that it's too late." Thinking about that over and over again in the pit hadn't helped at the time, but he was with Dean again and that had to mean something.

"If it's too late for Dean, then I will go down with him." John really looked at him then, trying to gauge how serious he was, trying to understand why the angel stuck by his son even though it put the both of them in danger, even though he would just be better off running. He supposed he would never completely understand angels, or trust them, but Dean had to be just about as mistrusting and skeptical as he was, and he would no doubt have noticed the warning signs and just chose to accept them.

"They want you, it's the only way to get Sam back."

"Then they can have me."

John's mouth nearly dropped open in shock. He paced the warehouse hours after that, knowing there had to be something that he'd missed. He walked towards the room he had slept in the night before, wanting to talk to Dean, who had been moved there after demanding some privacy, but he drew back on it. He needed to keep his head on the mission, no more distractions.

As soon as it was over, then he could spend all the time he wanted with his sons.

He could only hope that he didn't fuck everything up again.

Dean was geared up and ready to go before his father was. Seeing how strong and capable Dean was had him feeling the proudest he'd ever felt. If anyone ever underestimated Dean's love and sense of protection towards his brother, it would be the last mistake that they ever made. He didn't get up off the chair, only smiled as Dean put on his jacket and continued to ready his weapons.

He caught his gaze before John could look away, "What?"

"Nothing, just happy to see you up on your feet again." And fuck if that was the only reason, he was also concerned about the physical state of his eldest a great deal, and he felt guilty when he realized that he was waiting for Dean to slip up so he could keep him at the warehouse: safe and exactly where John knew he was.

Truth was though, he wanted - no - needed Dean by his side. Dean gave him strength, and he'd been protecting Sam for long enough, so he had to know what he was doing.

"Where's Cas?"

John opened his mouth to say he didn't know, but the angel entered the room before he could. "I am here, Dean." It still left him uneasy, knowing the angel could sneak up on them so easily and potentially snap his neck in a matter of seconds. It didn't matter though, because he would be gone soon and John wouldn't have to obsess so much over the situation anymore.

It was all he could think about because he couldn't think about what really was the truth, that everything would have been just fine and dandy if he just hadn't been rescued from the pit.

Dean gave him a brief look of nostalgia and happiness as a result of them both being back on the hunt together. Just to see that look was worth everything John Winchester could have ever had to endure, that he already had endured.

He knew his son had gone to hell, knew the angel had supposedly saved him and maybe that was why he couldn't trust him, yet it was also, at the same time, most likely why he couldn't kill him either.

His son owed Castiel, not the other way around. And yet with sacrificing himself to rescue Sam, Dean would only owe him double. None of it felt right, but he broke away from that line of thinking when he inevitably pinpointed the reasoning behind Dean's shameful look and his reluctance to speak with him. Dean had broke in the pit and he had not, and he loathed himself for it.

"Dean...," he reached out, because he couldn't have Dean thinking like that when he was about to endanger his life again.

"Let's go," he rasped out. "We don't have much time."

John watched the sun rise further in the sky and realized he was right: less than an hour. He stood up and let it go, glancing over to see the angel share an apologetic look with him. He brushed that off too, he had to focus on getting Sammy back right now, whatever it took.

The three of them arrived before the angels did, and they spent the uneasy seconds giving each other half looks and just trying to breathe. Neither he nor Dean would feel right again until Sam was beside them, and both of them took the blame for Sam being where he was.

"Castiel. It's good to see you again."

Her voice broke the silence, and John found her before he found Sam back behind her a ways, several angels surrounding him. He was rage-driven and wanted to take them out now but he waited. He waited for the angel.

"Naomi. I can't say it's particularly good to see you again."

Naomi seemed none too happy by the snark, but John spoke before the two angels could kill him with more smalltalk. "I did what you asked. You have the angel, now give me back my son." He knew it wouldn't be that easy, couldn't be that easy.

"Bring him forward."

Finally, Sam was in better view and John noticed in relief that he looked the same as before. Good, otherwise he would have been fucking pissed. One glance over at his eldest and he saw that he looked enraged enough for the both of them.

Castiel stepped forward then and as much as Dean wanted to protest, wanted to draw him back, John was pleased to see him keep his mouth shut. Sam gave him a look of pity as he hurried over to Dean's side, his older brother's arm wrapping protectively around him. His eyes were on his baby brother, but John suspected it was only because he couldn't face the angel.

"Come, Castiel." Naomi held out an arm for him as well, smiling slightly as if she were genuinely glad to get him back. "It is time to go back."

"No," he shook his head and took a step backward. "I will never belong there again."

"Castiel...," that was all she got out before the angel turned towards the three of them again, and John watched as his hand reached down and plunged inside his vessel's chest. Dean shouted his name but the angel's gaze remained away from him, ignoring him.

John had no idea what was going on but he didn't like it, even though the horrified look on her face was beautiful to see. Sam was holding his brother back easily enough, though when the angel's hand retreated it became a helluva lot more of a struggle.

John looked down to see what he was holding in his hands.

There was a bright light pulsating there, as if it were a living, breathing thing. It was the same light he had seen during his nightmares, the same as when he had been moved from one place to the next. It wasn't as bright as it usually was, probably having to do with the angel holding it tightly, trying to shield most of it with his vessel's fingers, but John could do nothing but stare in awe as what was shaped entirely like a human heart was squeezed slightly and the angel bit back a scream.

There was something dripping from the light, a substance that reminded him of blood, an ethereal blood that slipped down to the grass and clung to it as if it were trying to find another host. The older hunter didn't know much about angels, but he wondered if the very thing the angel was holding was his grace. By the way she was frozen in place, face aghast by the sight, it probably was.

John caught him looking to the side, probably at his son, before his hand squeezed and he let out a scream this time. Her eyes were inflamed then, but it didn't matter. An explosion of light fell around them all, blinding them momentarily.

The angel Castiel fell.

When the haze cleared, Castiel was on the ground and Dean was screaming out his name hysterically.

John could only watch in horror at the scene before him.

Another angel appeared and John suspected it was the one Castiel informed him of the night before, Balthazar. He fought the angels briefly then took Sam away from the chaos first, leaving John to fight the angels alone, pushing them away from the heartbreaking scene.

He didn't know how much longer he could hold out for, and he hated having to depend on help, but Balthazar reappeared out of the corner of his eye and somehow drew his son away from the fallen angel, giving him hope. The unconscious or possibly dead Castiel was after that and John, then on the ground, accepted the angel's hand quickly and allowed him to take him away from the wrath of the angels.

The scene he joined moments after wasn't much better than the one he had left.

Sam had his arms around Dean and was trying to calm him down by talking to him and rubbing a hand along his back. Dean's eyes were bloodshot and he looked completely drained, and Sam looked up at John, panicked. John noticed Balthazar tending to Castiel and turned away, helping Sam get Dean off the carpet and into the room's other bed. The hotel they were currently in was a much better change of scenery, but all John could think about was Dean, and he tried to understand what he had just lost.

Dean settled down after a while, but not for the better. Sam hadn't left his side once, not even to check on Castiel after Balthazar vanished. His attention was solely on Dean as he brushed back his hair and whispered soothing words in his ear. John longed to be in his place, but he didn't have the connection with Dean that his youngest had. He could only show how grateful he was towards Sam by getting things when they were needed.

John knew what Castiel had done, knew that by falling those dicks couldn't track them anymore. They were back together, as a family, but John knew that it was nothing like the family they could have been.

Castiel didn't wake up for days, and Dean seemed lost along with him.

The reunion with Sam had been better than he could have hoped for; there was no resentment or anger, just hugs and talking and Sam smiling like his life was whole again.

Dean, on the other hand, was anything but okay. Sam explained his catatonia as a result of his brother losing Cas too many times, and Dean just wouldn't come out of it. Sam took care of him, trying to snap him out of it, but most of the time he would just storm away in frustration or end up in tears. It hated John to see his family broken apart, and he hated himself even more for knowing he had caused it.

John couldn't understand Dean's reaction even though Sam clearly could, and his youngest seemed to sense that immediately, for he took him into an empty room and closed the door behind them.

Sam was nothing like the boy he had left behind, he was strong and capable and as skilled of a hunter as his brother was, even though he said nothing but the reverse. His boys were together again and he had caused their reunion; at least one good thing had come out of the huge mess he had caused.

Sam cleared his throat and began, "Dean and Castiel, Dad..."

"What?" He demanded impatiently, grateful for an explanation finally.

"They're together."

"Of course they are, until your brother snaps out of it, that is."

Sam sighed, his hands rubbing over his face. He almost liked like he was going to back down. "No, I don't mean that. I mean that they're together together. Like... dating, in a relationship, together..."

"Sam," John warned, "now is not the time for games."

"It isn't a game, Dad. Dean didn't want me to tell you because he knew how you would react, but you must have assumed something, given how close they are. They've been like that for years, Dad. I've been trying to get them together myself for all that time, but Dean had to be the one to admit it. They're really happy, Dad. Please, don't ruin it for them, it took them so long just to..."

John stormed out of the room and into Dean's own. His son looked so lifeless sitting on that chair, and in his heart John knew that Sam was telling the truth, he just didn't want to face it. He bent down and lifted his head up, forcing Dean to look at him even though his eyes looked as drained of life as the rest of him did. "You need to wake up, Dean. You have to snap out of this. That angel, he's nothing...," he took a deep, painful breath, unable to finish the sentence. "Angels can't love, son, they can't...," his voice cracked, and he scarcely thought he could keep it together anymore. "You need to wake up!" He shook him but there was no response, and he shoved the hand off his shoulder in aggravation.

"Stop, Dad. Pushing Dean isn't helping, he needs to get out of this on his own."

He wanted to tell Sam to shut up, wanted to tell him that he knew what he was doing, but he didn't and he broke away. "I need some fresh air." John walked out but paused in the doorway, watching Sam as he knelt down in front of Dean, brushing a stray lock of hair off his forehead.

"Hey, Dean. It's Sam. You need to wake up, okay? Dad really misses you and he doesn't know how to deal with it, and I don't either," his chuckle cut off abruptly and even though he turned his head, John could still see his tears. "Just... just come back to us, okay? Then maybe Cas will too."

John left and stepped outside then. His mind couldn't have been farther away from the angels who still hunted them. He could only think of Dean and Sam and that damn angel that confused him to no end, and just how little he knew about them and how much he wanted to know more than anything.

The angel woke up before Dean did, and he was forced to face his new and permanent state of humanity in the midst of staying with Dean. It consisted mostly of him hovering over Dean and crying, sobbing heavily when he couldn't understand what crying was or what it meant. As often as Sam pulled his father away, stressing that the two needed time together, John spent much of his time watching the angel and how he looked at, touched and talked to his son.

He supposed everything was heightened after he became human, but John was shocked both by his behavior and the realization that getting rid of him no longer seemed like an option.

If the angel's dedication could get his son to wake up, then he'd wait and watch without interference.

Sam accepted the role of babysitter and almost seemed to thrive in it, taking care of both his brother and Castiel and yet still finding the energy to talk to him over dinner on quiet nights. It was the catching up that John needed the most to reestablish their connection, he'd never felt closer to Sam.

Then the day came when Sam rushed into the kitchen during breakfast and told him that Dean was awake. John nearly choked on his toast, but managed to swallow it down as he followed him and entered the bedroom. Dean looked up at him in confusion and somewhat relief and right then and there, not giving a fuck who was watching, he wrapped Dean up in his arms and hugged him so tightly he was almost scared he would break him.

"Dad?" Dean tried weakly to push him away, "Dad. I'm okay, really."

He finally pulled away, "Don't you ever do that to me or your brother again. Do you understand me, son?"

"I do. I do," Dean breathed out, and John couldn't miss how the angel seemed to light up like the sun as he watched the two of them, and he also couldn't miss how he wasn't angry or jealous in the slightest, only happy.

John's happiness waned though, because when Dean wasn't with him or Sam he was with Castiel, and he clung to him so fiercely that John soon grew angry. It wasn't long before he decided to take matters into his own hands, almost barging into his son's room and only held back by knowing better. He pressed his ear against the slightly open door, listening to the voices within. If he could eavesdrop to get some clarity, then he would do it.

"Cas, no, don't."

"I almost lost you Dean. I need to feel you with me, inside of me, you can't ask me to wait for that."

"Cas, I can't. Cas, don't. Please... Cas, oh god..."

"It's alright, Dean. I'll be careful. You know I..."

John walked out of earshot before he could hear anymore; his fragile nerves could hardly take the fact that his son was both gay and in a relationship with an angel of the lord, a fucking celestial being that could smite him in the blink of an eye. He tried to convince himself that angels didn't adhere to a certain gender, that Castiel could as easily have chosen a female vessel, but he couldn't make that stick. He needed time to think about it all, and he was skeptical about ever being able to accept it.

But John Winchester longed to be a changed man, and he wanted more than anything to have a closer relationship to Dean again.

He would have to start somewhere. He barged inside the room.

"Dad!" Dean protested, sitting up and looking at the angel, who only shook his head in disappointment and scooted out of the room.

"Explain yourself," he demanded. "Sam's told me that it's not what I think it is. That you're in a relationship," he spat out, disgusted by the very word itself. No wonder the angel had clung to Dean like super glue, while he sparred only moments to check over Sam, and probably just because Dean demanded it. He finally understood why they had been so physically close the night John had first laid eyes upon him.

It wasn't what he had expected all along. Not at all. Dean seemed more than just smitten, he seemed attached, which only made him foolish and reckless. John Winchester couldn't have that.

"Dad, I..."

"Tell me the truth, Dean. Tell me how the hell the very thing I am hunting also happens to be the thing you're in love with?"

Dean had to talk, he wouldn't let him hide anymore, and he seemed to find his strength upon hearing John's question, which should have made him flinch but surprisingly didn't. He stood up and faced his father, "He's not a thing, Dad. So stop referring to him as one."

"Watch your tone with me, boy."

"No," Dean shook his head, "not anymore. Sam was right, I love him, Dad. Don't try to tell me that I don't."

There was something about the way he said it that couldn't anger John, something about his tone that had John cursing inwardly as his voice was forced to turn soft. "Dean."

"No," Dean cut him off again. "I spent too much time letting him get away, forcing him to believe that I didn't care about him like that, and I'm sick of it, and I'm not gonna let you push me further back."

"You don't realize what you're saying. You're still recovering and so am I, I'll admit it."

"I've never been more confident about anything in my entire life, Dad. Cas loves me and I love him, and if you don't accept that then you can just leave. Things have changed since you left, and maybe not in the way you wanted them to, but that doesn't matter because I'm not your soldier anymore, and I'm not eight years old anymore, and you can't tell me how to live my life anymore."

Dean left the room after that, brushing past Sam, who stood in the doorway and looked nothing but proud of his brother and ashamed of his father. "He's right, Dad. We're not the same as you left us. We're stronger, and we're better hunters than you could ever imagine, but we're not your play toys anymore."

Nothing could have hurt as much as his sons walking away from him did. It was a rude awakening, but as the hours went by it was one that John realized he needed. His one goal was to get back together with his boys, to hunt with them again and just be with them again. Sam was pushing away from him again, even though it warmed his heart to see him closer to Dean than perhaps he ever was, but Dean - Dean was hurting and pushing him away like he never had before, and it was killing John.

"Tell me," he pleaded, "tell me how to make it right."

The once angel looked up at him with all too human eyes, and he almost pitied him, but he swallowed down everything and pushed on. "You know how to make it right."

"I don't get it," John finally said, "you hate being a human and yet you fell, you gave up everything just to protect them."

"Some things are more important than what I want."

John paced again after that, it seemed like that was all he was capable of doing lately. Dean had stood up to him and even though he hadn't particularly liked it, there was a pride in his boy that he couldn't crush. He still had doubts and dreams and trust issues, but Dean was in much worse shape than he was and yet he was still so strong, so much like his mother had been.

He knew how to make it right.

Dean was at the table cleaning his weapons and John sat down beside him, laying a hand on the gun he was cleaning. Dean looked up at him in shock, stopping what he was doing. "Don't blame yourself, Dean. It's not your fault. Just because I held out doesn't mean I'm any stronger than..." His son pulled away from him before he could finish, turning his head so he could pretend that he didn't exist, that the situation wasn't happening. "I haven't been there for you for a long time, and I'm sorry about that."

"Not your fault. You sacrificed yourself for me, Dad. You shouldn't have done it, but it was your choice."

"It was the only thing I ever did that I knew was right. Don't ever tell me that you didn't deserve it, Dean. You deserved much better than how I raised you, and you didn't deserve to go to hell."

"Neither did you," Dean responded, as if he was the only one that mattered, the only one who had it bad.

John put his hand on his shoulder, "I know. I know it hurts, and I know that Cas..."

Dean turned towards him then, his eyes wide and hopeful, "I love him."

"I know you do, son. I'm sorry, and I want you to know that I am so proud of you." He wrapped him up in a hug before he could protest, and when he heard someone crying, he glanced up and held out an arm for Sam as well, who joined them and wrapped his massive arms around them both. John breathed in his new life completely then, the second chance he had been given.

And then, damn him but he motioned the angel to come over too. Somehow then, it all felt like it made sense to him.

He was going to give it a shot, even if it killed him.

FIN