Written for challenge #82: Flight on Fan_Flashworks and posted during the 19th amnesty.

Companion piece for 'Mysterious Ways', which was posted (and this was written) before 'Book of the Damned' aired, making this canon-divergent.

Castiel watched in amazement as his grace spread through Dean, doing the impossible, touching every part of the man he loved in a way he hadn't been able to in years. And Dean had said yes so willingly. Castiel had always entertained the notion that maybe, just maybe, Dean would say yes to him if he ever needed to ask, but he had always been fearful of the answer, and far too conscious of Dean's free will and need for control.

Now not only did he know the answer, but he was actually seeing what Dean would look like as his vessel. He could see his grace race through Dean's body, cleansing him of the filth the Mark of Cain had left behind, erasing what his time as a demon had done to him. He could see Dean's skin glow with the distinctive halo of Castiel's kind as the grace filled him, running through every cell of this archangel's vessel like it was meant to. Like it belonged to him, and him to it.

Dean's eyes opened, human eyes with the grace of an angel behind them. Soft, gentle, wondrous eyes. He glanced down at his right arm, where Castiel's grace still glowed strongest, making the Mark something beautiful instead of terrible.

Dean was magnificent like this, so wonderful that Castiel wanted to cry. He couldn't believe that even his Father could be anything like as glorious and perfect as this wingless angel with a human soul that stood before him.

Dean reached for him, and Castiel relaxed into the intimate touch of Dean's hands on his face. The foreign grace within him twisted, its discordant chime more apparent than ever now that his own was so close, actually in contact with his vessel. But that grace was Dean's now, and Castiel knew he would use it wisely. He would never take it if it kept Dean safe and whole.

As Dean kissed him, so very tenderly, Castiel felt it race into him, felt his grace rush to the core of his being, dancing and joyous at being where it always should have been. Dean held him as his grace burned what remained of Adina's from him, replacing and superseding it and making him whole once more. He trembled as sensation flooded back into his wings; something he had not felt since the day the angels fell; since Metatron stole his eternal life from him.

He felt rather than heard Dean's gasp of astonishment as he flexed his wings, and he self-consciously folded them away, knowing how torn they must look now. But then there was a tiny sigh that Castiel was positive was disappointment.

"I love seeing your wings," Dean admitted, his voice low as he whispered in Cas' ear. "They're so bad-ass."

Cas drew away. He shouldn't be vain – it was a sin, after all – but he found he couldn't help himself. He knew how they would appear; what his brothers' and sisters' wings looked like now.

Dean, back to his usual human self, but smiling and resonating gently with the tiny piece of Castiel's grace that was typical of a previously possessed human, seemed to realise what the issue was.

"You didn't fall, man," he said gently. "You had them taken from you; you didn't fall."

Cas stared. Was it possible? Could it be true? Curious, he stretched out again and was astonished to find that Dean was right. Each and every feather was exactly how it had been before the fall. Only one tiny movement told Castiel that his wings would carry him anywhere. He alone of all his siblings still had the ability to fly.

"Go on," Dean said shyly. "You know you want to."

There was a decision to be made: Castiel wanted to stay with Dean, but he missed flying so much. But Dean hated flying, whether mechanical or natural.

Dean stepped up into his space, kissed him once again. "Don't drop me," he whispered against Cas' lips.

It was only then did Castiel stop to properly see Dean, to check the Mark. It had gone, leaving nothing but a silver scar. Dean was free. And still clutched in his right hand was… was…

"I'll be damned," Dean said, lifting the amulet up to their eye level before adding ruefully: "Again."

Castiel didn't say anything. He couldn't. He had worn it against his skin so long ago, waiting for it to give him a sign. And Dean had discarded it immediately when Castiel couldn't stand the sight of it any longer, when his Father told him to stop searching for Him.

"Damn thing's still warm," Dean commented. His eyes were on Castiel. They both knew the significance of that: of what they had been feeling from the core of the mystery object all this time.

Castiel reached out and touched it reverently. Dean was right once more.

"You want to go looking?"

"No." The word was out before Castiel even truly processed the thought. "No," he repeated more gently. "He is still watching. He still cares. That is enough for me. And He is clearly not here any longer, and here is where I wish to be."

Dean slipped the amulet around Cas' neck with that sneaky, twinkly look in his eye; the one that Cas knew could end them up in a brothel again if he wasn't careful.

"Here? Not up there?"

Dean had a tendency to seize the moment when he had that look about him. Castiel decided that he should seize it first. He pulled Dean close to him and, with a powerful flap of his wings, took flight.

.oOo.

Dean yelled at first, clutching at Cas desperately as they soared high above the world with no real destination in mind. Flying aimlessly like this was something that Cas used to do when he was confused by Dean's behaviour; something that helped to clear his head. Very few angels flew for the sheer pleasure of it – it was something Gabriel ha introduced him to, back before there were creatures on the ground. They were some of the few who had thoroughly explored this marvellous creation of their Father's and revelled in the joys it had to offer. Castiel had very fond memories of flying with Gabriel and Balthazar, chasing each other through the clouds and mountains, watching the world form beneath them. It would be nice to have someone else to share this pleasure with; someone who was capable of appreciating it.

Dean's initial distress did detract from Cas' enjoyment somewhat, but once he started to relax a little and trust that Castiel wasn't going to drop him, even took a peek at the rainforest they were currently swooping over, flying alongside the parrots, things became a lot more enjoyable. They landed beside a beautiful, peaceful lake in Minnesota and drank in each other's company for a short time. It was the first time in a long time they had just been able to indulge in each other's company: the world was not ending and neither of them was dying. Cas shoved the sleeve of Dean's shirt back up just to look in wonder at the scar that used to be the Mark of Cain. It shone like grace in the sunlight, leading to an amused huff of laughter from Dean.

"Dunno whether I should like it or moan about Twilight," he said.

Cas laughed too, enjoying having understood the reference, and Dean's revulsion at the comparison. He lowered his lips to it and kissed gently. The grace tingled happily, responding to Castiel's touch, and Dean squirmed but didn't move.

"Okay, it's pretty cool," he admitted as a smile lit his eyes. "And you? I'm guessing you're okay with me kissing you before?"

Castiel gave him a tolerant look. "Dean, even if you had not given me this wonderful gift, I would have been 'okay' with you kissing me."

"Good."

With that, Dean looped an arm around Cas' waist and used it to pull himself close (since Dean wasn't exactly strong enough to move Cas around any more). Castiel was suddenly very glad of his grace, because he was suddenly reminded of his few months of experiencing true humanity, and how difficult it had been to control his vessel whenever he thought of Dean. He understood now that it was common for adolescent human males to experience such spontaneous erections, and Castiel supposed that was technically was he was – he was inexperienced at being a human adult, as teenage boys were, and he had needed some time away to learn to control himself. Dean might have thrown him out of the bunker to protect Sam, but Castiel made a conscious choice not to call Dean until he didn't have to rush to the nearest public bathroom every time he thought about his friend.

Now he could just enjoy Dean's closeness without embarrassing himself. He could even indulge in being kissed by Dean and enjoying that too. He could revel in their bodies being so close, pressed together so tightly, Dean's hand wandering, stroking up and down his back, making his nerves tingle with the pleasure of having Dean so very close to him.

"Cas?" Dean murmured softly.

"Yes, Dean?"

"Take me home. Take us home."

Dean grabbed his butt the moment before he took flight. It distracted Cas so much that he overshot the bunker at first. Even when he back-tracked, he didn't manage to land them in the lab they had come from, but Dean's bedroom.

Dean smirked at him as he took in their surroundings.

"Is this a hint?"

"Do you want it to be?" The words were out of Castiel's mouth before he really thought about them. But he was happy with their meaning once he was able to consider. Even though physical intimacy was forbidden to angels, and wasn't actually a natural drive for them, Castiel had now experienced sexuality and knew that Dean was the only person he ever wanted to be that close with again; to experience that bond with.

.oOo.

Castiel knew what his heaven would have been, had he reached it: it would be this moment, with Dean sleeping in his arms, with everything right in their world. He would make Dean's heaven like this – he would be right there at Dean's side, keeping everything fresh for him; making new memories rather than reliving old one. He would make Dean's heaven true perfection rather than the facsimile that every other human endured.

"Cas?" Dean mumbled sleepily, stretching languorously against Cas, sending tingles along all the right nerves.

"Yes, Dean?"

"You ever planning on telling me you're an archangel now?"