A/N: Originally written in April, 2012.

Warnings for: AU (AR), slight infidelity, slash, angst.

John Winchester is thirty-five when he contemplates leaving his sons and disappearing for a long time.

His bags are packed, his wife, well, she's dead, and the boys are at school. There's nothing stopping him from walking out that door and hoping they get adopted by some normal, better family where they could grow up without having to face supernatural creatures on a daily basis.

John's taking in a deep breath, turning the knob of the door, and looking back one last time. Sam's books are on the table, Dean's toy cars are on the floor (again), and their drawings of Mary are all over the walls. He closes his eyes and opens the door.

"Hello, John," says a deep voice from his entrance. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Do I know you?" John closes the door behind him just in case this guy is a thief or psychopath.

"I'm not going to take any of your possessions," the man says, narrowing his eyes. "I'm an Angel of the Lord."

"Okay, buddy." John throws his duffel bag over his shoulder. "I'm going now. Nice talking to you. Whoever you are."

"I am Castiel, John," Castiel says, pushing at John's shoulder until he's backed against the door.

"Don't touch me," John snaps, hitting the hand away. "I don't know who you are so why do you know my name?"

"I know your sons well." Castiel smiles briefly. "They grow up to be very loyal, brave men."

"I'm supposed to believe that you're an angel and you came from the future?" John's brow furrows. "Not buying it."

"Believe what you will," Castiel answers, "but I will not let you leave them. This is not what's meant to happen. They need to become the hunters that they now are."

"You want me to force them into a life that I don't even like myself?" John frowns, pushing past Castiel. "No can do."

Castiel disappears, and when he reappears he presses his fingers to John's temple, making him collapse in Castiel's arms.

XXX

John blinks the sleep from his eyes, and light blue eyes are staring down at him. He jumps back against the sofa.

"Castiel or whatever." John sighs. "I don't know what my boys have been teaching you, but that is not something people do."

"My apologies." Castiel moves away slightly, his gaze persistent. "Have you reconsidered?"

"Do I have a choice?" John snaps, sitting up on the sofa.

"No," Castiel answers quickly, crossing his arms.

"Then I've reconsidered." John rubs his head carefully. What did Castiel do, drug him?

"I've some trouble controlling the intensity of my power in this era," Castiel utters. "Again, my apologies."

John laughs and throws his legs over the side of the couch. "You're all right, Cas," he replies.

Castiel tilts his head, and John considers for a moment that he must have lost his mind if he thinks a grown man—an angel—is adorable.

"What do you mean by adorable?" Castiel asks, sitting next to John on the couch. "And how did you know your sons referred to me as Cas?"

"I didn't," John says quickly, "and adorable just means cute—er—innocent."

"You think I'm naïve? I am not a child. I'm over ten thousand years old," Castiel says, grumpy.

Adorable is really all John can think of, even with the irritation clearly shining through Castiel's blue eyes.

"I'm sorry," John mutters, "I just didn't expect an angel to be like—like you."

Castiel shifts closer. "Is that positive or not?"

John hasn't been laid in a very, very long time. He knows this from how much he wants to cross the space between them and just ruffle up this angel until he's a tiny bit more human.

"It's good," John says, voice shaky. He looks away when Castiel tilts his head again. "Maybe you should leave before Dean and Sam come back from school."

"That is correct," Castiel says flatly. "But they will not return for a few hours."

John turns and Castiel is even closer than before, mouth parted just enough for his tongue to dart out against those dry, pink lips. God, John wants to taste them. Is either of his sons dating this guy in the future? They really need to be.

"I don't think Sam will mind," Castiel whispers softly, "if you kiss me. At least not while I'm here in this time period—with you."

Sam, of course; they always think the same way.

"I really wish you wouldn't read my thoughts," John says seriously. "Can't you at least pretend you aren't listening in?"

"Yes," Castiel breathes against John's lips, "but only if you do what you wish."

John sighs, and drags Castiel in by his messy hair, dipping his tongue between those lips easier than he expected. Castiel is pliant, and lets John move him back against the couch, crawl over him and kiss him like John will never love anyone ever again.

Castiel knows he won't.