_NOTES_

Sooo don't ask me when this takes place, because honestly I'm not completely sure? It's before Jack but also after Mary's resurrection. I hope that helps! Remember, this is an AU and a fanfiction and that I'm completely fudging these tourist locations! Thanks for reading!

xxx

"Hurry up, we're gonna be late!"

Sam's voice echos through the large parking garage as he stares, highly annoyed, at his older brother. The 6' mass of muscle lays slumped over his car like he's saying goodbye for the last time. Dean Winchester— the man who vanquished the darkness, who killed Hitler, and who saved the world countless of times — has his arms wrapped around his black Chevy Impala he calls Baby.

"Gimme a moment, Sammy. I've never been without her this long before." Dean frets, as he closes his eyes to absorb her cool, black hood. He takes a ragged breath as he recalls the rumble of her engine; her sweet purr. Every time he inserts the key into the ignition, he reminds himself that she is his. He rebuilt her from the ground up more times than he can count.

"It's only 6 days, Dean." The younger, yet taller brother retorts as he flicks a long, overgrown strand of hair from his eyes. Both brothers know that Dean's will to drive his Impala is the least of his problems. Ever since he was a little boy, Dean has been terrified of flying. He doesn't quite remember how or why, but he's always hated the thought of being thousands of miles above land while also traveling at speeds unfathomable in a car. There are so many things that could go wrong, and above all, he hates the low rumble of turbulence.

Frankly, he doesn't even recall agreeing to fly, but then again he hasn't been as sober as he used to be. His old drinking habit resurfaced to combat his agonizing boredom, so there are patches of time missing from his memory where he could've agreed in a bravely drunken state. It doesn't matter, though. Although he would've preferred taking his car, Sam and Sam's fiancée insisted.

A dark and shaggy-haired man in a teak trench coat stands next to Dean, rolling his eyes sarcastically. Despite his military-grade stiffness, this being has the best ironic humor Dean's ever seen. Castiel knows Dean well, arguably more than the Winchester knows himself. Like conjoined twins, Cass can read him like an open book (even without his mindreading abilities). Dean's limp expression and his lack of cooperation tells Castiel what the Winchester is feeling, and so he grips his shoulder— firm, but not pushy— before sighing.

"Dean, Sam is right." He says in his usual gruff tone, as Dean turns his head and raises his bushy brows. To retaliate against Dean's fine-lined mouth and unamused visage, Cass also adds: "Don't worry about the flight, I will be next to you the whole time."

"Fine, fine." The older Winchester huffs a complacent sigh before he stands up straight once more. Castiel nods curtly before turning to Sam, who's stifling a laugh. Dean's phobia has always seemed to amuse him, especially because this is his only true fear. Dean's brows crease and he grumbles a little, thrusting Castiel's hand off with a roll of his shoulder. In that moment, a pretty blonde appears from behind Sam with a gentle smile on her face. She wraps her arms lovingly around his waist before reaching up to kiss his shoulder (he was too tall for her to reach his cheek from this angle). Sam chuckles softly and he turns to see Jess, his college sweetheart.

Previously, Jess had died in a ceiling fire caused by Azazel, a demon obsessed with Sam Winchester. She had been lost for almost twenty years. However, when Amara (also known as the Darkness) brought Mary Winchester back from the dead, she brought Jess back too. It was years later that Sam and Jess reunited, continued to date, and eventually, professed their love. Jessica's beautiful diamond engagement ring sparkles dazzlingly on her ring finger as it curls around Sam's hip.

"I dropped our bags off. Is he still obsessing over that car?" The blonde giggles a little as Dean flushes with embarrassment. She had left to drop off their suitcases thirty minutes ago.

"No, we're good." Dean grumbles softly as he swings his backpack over his shoulder, only to look back longingly at the sleek impala. He steals his eyes away before Sam can make another joke about it and he looks over at Castiel. Instinctively, deep blue eyes turn to meet his. "Was flying like being on a plane?"

"No." Castiel says simply, tipping his head a little as he matched his step with Dean's. However, his voice softens when he realized Dean's inner fears. Eyes are a doorway to the soul, afterall. "But I am sure it's the same feeling. I mean—" he shakes his head as he gets himself to the point. "— I will be there to help you."

Dean smiles a little and looks over at Sam and his fiancée. Their arms are entangled, their fingers: entwined like branches of a tree. He couldn't see their faces, but he can tell they're lit up in a grin. They're happy, Dean knows this. He sighs lightly as they pass through automatic doors and Castiel flinches in surprise. He looks side to side suspiciously as the glass doors retreat into themselves. His contorted face causes Dean to snort with amusement so strong it's hard to fight it. Give him an army of angels, a leviathan, or even a blade and the clipped angel handles fine. However, Castiel was never one for technology or modernized slang.

Agitated and a little flustered in embarrassment, Castiel shoots a deadpanned glance at Dean, his eyes glassy with sass. He exhales slowly before walking ahead a little to be petty. The ordeal curves the Winchester's lip up into a lopsided smirk before he shuffled faster to close the distance. Laughter forces itself from his lungs and he slaps a hand on his best friend's shoulder. Only for a moment does Castiel share his smile, but they had entered the building, and the crowd drowns out any hit of laughter.

"Where's security?" Sam turns to Jess a few feet ahead of the duo. The blonde merely points to a colorful sigh as her mouth moves inaudibly. Dean pretends like he's listening, but in real honestly, he's just following his baby brother. Castiel, however, walks stiffly as he tips his chin up with curiosity. Dean doesn't notice how his brows twitch softly as he's thinking, nor does his eyes linger over his chapped lips. He denied it.

After a few more minutes of walking, the small group reaches security. Castiel, unfamiliar with this process, looks to Dean for assistance, but Dean isn't paying much attention. His fingers drum silently on his thighs as he tries to deny the inevitable. Maybe if he set off the alarm they wouldn't have to go? No, that wouldn't be fair to Sam and Jess.

Next to him, Castiel opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but he closes it as they're approached by an officer. Somehow through the commotion, Jess and Sam are already making their way to the other side.

"Okay, so remove your belt, shoes, and electronic devices and put them in the bin." She says professionally, stepping aside to motion toward little grey bins on conveyor belts. Behind her, Sam had been pulled aside by another TSA officer and Jess waits patiently nearby. At Dean's side, Castiel tips his head to the side like a curious dog.

"Why is this required?" He asks in a low and rough tone as he hesitantly bends down to untie his shoes. By now, the female officer had moved on and Dean had to answer the question.

"I dunno." Dean grins a little as he does the same. He peels off his grey sneakers and places them in the bin as Castiel copies him with his black dress shoes. The older Winchester can feel the angel's eyes processing him as he carefully unbuckles his belt and slips it off to lay alongside his shoes. Hastily copying his moves, Castiel does the same. To the older brother's surprise, the angel's fingers are agile and quick on the smooth metal. Dean shrugs off his army green jacket and nods at Castiel. "I think the jacket has to come off too."

Although he puzzles this, Castiel complies and shifts off not just his teak overcoat, but his black suit coat. The only time Dean has ever seen him without the two extra layers was when he was processed by the devil, so this is considered a rare sight. Dean allows his eyes to scan over the uncovered curves of his back, biceps, and... he needs to focus.

Snapping his head back to attention, Dean steps forward through the metal detector and he passes without a beep. Castiel, on the other hand, hesitates at the gateway. Silently, he passes through only to be greeted by a loud shrieking sound, 'Oh god, Cass' Dean grunts to himself as he visibly pinches his temple. 'he has his damn angel blade, doesn't he?'

The angel stops short and his eyes dart instinctively to Dean, who shakes his head in disbelief. A few officers around them whisper inaudibly and hurriedly as one brave and stern-looking man approaches. He puffs his chest and looks down upon the awkward angel: "Sir?"

The blue-eyed rebel looks up with little fear in his eyes despite new this experience is. Castiel has always underestimated humans. Instead of afraid, the angel looks unphased.

"I don't understand. Why did the machine go off once I stepped under it?" He says in his baritone voice as Dean steps under the machine. It goes off, but he motions to his metallic necklace. The samulet is comprised of gold, afterall. (Yes, he kept the one Chuck found).

"Sir, I'm gonna have to pat you down. I'll use the back of my hands to pat down any sensitive areas." The officer denied his question with a routine statement. Dean was let off easy and he went to collect his stuff. "Is that OK?"

"No, because I have nothing to hide." Castiel's voice is lowered to a whisper, but it's so distinct to Dean that he can pick it out from the crowd easily. Glancing over his knee as he bends over to tie his shoes, he spots Castiel reach out and lightly tap the man's forehead. The officer then doubles back a little in confusion before he blinks at the angel with no memory of the previous few seconds.

Castiel uses this technique a lot, and it's come in handy more times than not.

Once the muscular man comes back to terms with his surroundings, he motions for Castiel to move on forward. Perplexed, Jess whispered something to Sam. Judging by her face, it must have had to do with Castiel's inhuman ability. Carefully, he slipped on his green jacket as the angel slipped on his shoes.

"Smooth." Dean commented as he stood up straight. Castiel has misjudged the distance between them, and so they stand merely inches apart. This is something he frequently does, disregarding personal space, so Dean doesn't seem to mind it anymore. Instead of backing away, however, he reaches up and straightens the angel's blue tie. Behind them, he can hear Sam chuckle and mention Destiel.

Ever since the brothers discovered the books and the musical of their lives, Sam has been the biggest supporter of Casdean or Destiel: Castiel's and Dean's own name combined, apparently. 'Shipping' is what it's referred as, and Dean is quite certain his baby brother is trying to get his fiancée involved too.

Dean tries his hardest to let the comments slip past him, but it's hard to ignore someone who's trying to get you into a relationship with your best friend.

"Dean, are you alright?" Castiel's voice cuts in as Dean realizes he spaced out staring at the wall. With a quick shake of his head, Dean composes himself and smiles softly.

"Yeah, fine." Like usual, he lies, and like usual, Castiel knows. The angel narrows his sea blue eyes slightly in disbelief but he makes no move to rebut him. Dean stares back, his forest eyes threatening the angel to argue. Moments pass, and the only reason their eye contact breaks is because a tall man nudges past Castiel and knocks him forward an inch. The momentum causes their bodies to collide in slow motion, right shoulder to right shoulder. Their arms brush within moments that last years, and it sends a strange tingle through Dean's body: something similar to anticipation. Only a lifetime later do their fingertips collide and depart like a fleeting summer fling. In the next moment, Cass is walking towards Sam and Jess.

Dean blinks quickly before he turns around and forgets the whole experience. At least, that's what he wants to do.

Adjacent to Cass is Jess and Sam, whose arms are linked like a chivalrous 60's couple. As the older brother approaches, Sam cocks an eyebrow at Dean, who the retaliates with an eye roll. This gesture isn't unfamiliar between the two. Dean earns the "really?" gaze from Sam if he flirts with a waitress or girl on the middle of a case or he unintentionally flirts with Castiel. With a short exhale, Dean shakes his head. Of course, Sam must be messing with him. He's not into his guardian angel like that, how could he be?

"So where's the gate or whatever?" Dean changes the subject before Sam could even think about bringing it up. Jess merely shrugs and turns to Sam.

"Don't ask me, he has our papers." She replies softly and her silky curls bounce while she turns her smiling face to Sam. The young Winchester turns simultaneously and grins. God, this is the happiest Dean has ever seen Sam. The last time he's seen Sam smile genuinely was when he was 15 and Dean took him to see an R-rated movie.

"13." He replies, but his eyes don't leave Jessica's: It's like they're tethered together. Dean's gaze, not wanting to watch them fuck with their eyes, fall on Castiel. He's throwing his trench coat back on, but he senses Dean's attention and he looks up again.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Castiel glances over at Sam momentarily but his gaze quickly focuses back on Dean. With a deep breath, Dean nods.

"Yeah, let's go love birds." He says playfully as the engaged couple finally breaks eye contact. They nod in agreement, link hands, and continue on their merry way. Some part of Dean wishes he could settle down and have a domestic life like his brother. A wife and a litter of rug rats, snow days and vacations... However, he could never go through with it knowing monsters and things are lurking in the night. This job has given him so much PTSD, he could never live without the paranoia, fear, and pressure to protect everyone. He's tried it before with Lisa, and he knows how well that ended.

Perhaps with another hunter he could form a relationship, but that's highly unlikely.

After a few minutes of walking, the group reaches a set of seats under the sign in bold: 13. They sit in a line near the window and Dean's anxiety spikes. He can feel his head pounding and his knuckles cracking under the weight of his grip on the edge of his seat. He closes his eyes but the pounding doesn't go away in the slightest. Dean tries to think of what Sam tells him when he gets like this: breath, it's okay. "Dean?" A deep voice breaks the silence, but he can't locate the source. He's spiraling, and he thinks he might throw up. "Dean." The voice repeats, but with urgency. Something hard lands on Dean's shoulder, but he instinctively shrugs it off. His stomach churns in anticipation. "Dean!"

Finally, his eyes snap open and he visualizes he source of the voice. Two people are by his side— Sam and Castiel. Sam stands awkwardly and helplessly bent over to his crouching height (which is still almost as tall as Cass) while the angel rubs Dean's back in slow, rhythmic motions. To prevent himself from vomiting, Dean lurches forward and buries his face into Castiel's shoulder. Quite familiar with this gesture, his arms fold protectively over Dean's waist. Without context, pedestrians would think they are a couple and scold them for PDA.

"Now boarding all..." the loudspeaker calls, but Dean isn't listening. The world is muffled by Castiel's musk and his warmth. Pride diminishes when he's faced with his true fear, and Dean can't bring himself to care. However, before he knows it, Castiel is shifting and Dean won't let go. Too soon does Castiel coax him out of his safe haven and tell him it's time to board. Too late does Dean nod and agree, even if he wants to stay in his shoulder for the rest of time. Anything to avoid that plane. But even heaven has to end at some point.

Dean looks up and somehow, Castiel had guided him into a line of people. Sam and Jess look down on him with frowns of worry. Everyone towers over him and it's almost overwhelming. However, the sight of Sam is enough to ignite determination back into Dean; he must be strong for his baby brother.

He has to, right Dad?

Dean clambers to his full height, leaning heavily on his best friend so he doesn't pass out. He presses his mouth into a thin, determined line and Sam raises his brows in surprise. Castiel shifts a little because he doesn't know how to respond and Dean turns slightly to pat his shoulder, stand down. Castiel understands immediately and nods, allowing the hunter to adjust himself on his own to feet. Still worried however, he hovers at Dean's side anyway in case he does fall under another dizzy spell and needs the support.

If he can conquer the apocalypse, he can conquer his anxiety.

He barely heard the lady as she asked for his ticket, but he thrust his arm out anyway and placed it on the scanner. When it beeped with approval, Dean sighed with relief and continued: Castiel by his side, and his brother connected to Jess to his front.

From his right, Castiel looks over and there is a hint of worry in his deep blue eyes. He has never witnessed Dean's reaction to flight before.

"Dean, is this a normal human reaction to flying?" The angel leans in and asks worriedly. Dean knows Cass is still learning human behavior, and it seems to scare him knowing there is barely anything he can do to help his friend.

"Yeah, don't worry." Dean looks over and fakes a lopsided grin that doesn't convince Castiel in the slightest, but it's the only response Dean knows. Slowly, the group inches their way toward the aircraft's plug door. With every inch, Dean's heartbeat increases more and more. Sensing this, Cass wraps an arm around Dean's waist to steady him. Throughout the years, the angel has figured out how to calm Dean down: hugs. Although Dean denies it every time, it works despite his protests.

Aware that they look like a couple, Dean turns to Castiel and slaps his back playfully. He doesn't want his best friend to stop comforting him, but rather send him the right message.

Ahead of them, Sam and Jess step onto the plane in a swift, easy motion that seems impossible for Dean to accomplish. Sam juts out his hand for the Pilot to shake, and his brother realizes how civilian-like Sam is. Guilt begins to crawl into his stomach and set itself like a stone. The only reason why he isn't is because Dean didn't want to hunt alone.

"You coming?" Sam's voice cut into his dark thoughts and snapped attention to his face. Sam wore an awkward, lopsided grin and his hair hung lazily in his face, but all he sees is blame. Blame that he was too selfish to let Sam have a normal life; for him to not feel the burden Dean feels every day; to be happy.

"Yeah." Dean responds as he eyes the distance between the gangway and the inside of the plane. He makes the leap and when he finds he made it, smiles in satisfication. Castiel, unphased by the gap, steps over the inch of void and onto the plane beside him. Castiel is basically fearless and Dean admires that about him.

Slowly, the group wades through a crowd of people to find their seats toward the center of the plane. Luckily, the small jet airline seats four per row— two on the right and two on the left. The airport in Terrel, a town near Lawrence, is considerably small, so the airplane size isn't as large as the ones in Dallas or other large cities. Dean and Castiel clamber into two seats while Sam and Jess climb into the two seats across from them. The angel gives the engaged couple a small wave before he turns to Dean, who's struggling with his seatbelt. His shaky fingers fumble with the simple task, and his breathing becomes labored with stress. Castiel, who has greatly improved his people skills, touches Dean's hand and looks him in the eye. His voice is low and soothing: "Allow me."

Too afraid to protest, Dean grumbles a "Fine" and rolls his eyes. Cass leans over and like a father taking care of his child, he fastens Dean's belt securely and looks up with a smile. Dean merely gave the helpful angel an annoyed glare reading: "really? Was that really necessary?" Castiel only responds with a shrug and he grins as he clasps his own buckle.

"Is my pain funny to you?" Dean elbows Cass gently as he secured himself. Castiel playfully cocks his head like a dog who heard an interesting noise and for once, he grins. His mouth creases where his cheeks are, and his eyes crinkle at their seams. His blue eyes look nice with a shade of amusement and Dean soon finds it contagious.

"Possibly." Castiel replies as his grin widens. "However, I don't understand how a mental trigger could be considered a physical stimulus, as you put it."

There's that innocent, yet ironic comment Dean was waiting for. Suddenly, Dean realizes he isn't shaking anymore nor does his stomach churn. Distractions do help, it seems. However, with the realization comes the nausea and the shaking alike. That's the thing with anxiety: it only goes away when it's out of mind.

"Dean?" Castiel attracts the young hunter's attention again, pointing at the screen in front of them. "Is there any particular movie I should watch to understand more of your culture references?"

Dean shrugs slightly but his face shifts into a smile again. For some reason, he feels validated knowing his best friend wants to understand him better. "Try Ghostbusters."

With that, Castiel nods and rummages through Dean's bag. Since he's an angel, Cass felt like he didn't need to pack anything. However, since the young hunter knows the angel will be staying with him (Sam and Jess will be in a separate room for obvious reasons) he packed extra things. The angel with clipped wings takes out the earbuds and he frowns at the television in front of him. Dean stifles a chuckle.

"Put it in here." Dean taps the headphone jack as the angel's face lights up in realization.

Suddenly, a voice boomed over the loudspeakers and Dean flinched back into his seat. In his rush of fear, he grasps Castiel's arm and holds on for dear life. Sympathetically, Cass stands still as the other man held onto him. Through his own experience as a human, he knows these creatures need validation and support: two things he's willing to provide.

"Dean, don't worry. The voice is only warning us about people in yellow vests." The angel assures the anxious hunter as he peers curiously at the people in life jackets. Dean would chuckle at his ignorance but currently his mind is on other things. Slowly, Dean untangles his arms from Castiel and he sits upright.

This is going to be a long ride.

The plane lurches forward an inch or two, and Dean, not expecting this, squeezes his eyes shut and braces himself against his seat. This is it, this is how he dies. A few seats away, Sam chuckles softly. A warm hand places itself onto his, and Dean opens one eye to watch as a soulless angel show compassion. Castiel furrows his eyes with sympathy and strangely, a vague softness. Upon Dean's reaction, however, Castiel shifts his hand away and looks down. Dean didn't realize it, but his face contorted with confusion instead of relief. The Winchester opens his mouth to invite the fleeting hand back to its proper place, but he closes his mouth upon second thought.

Outside the window, the landing strip stretches into the horizon and the plane twists until it's out of view. The lake whispers outward under the jet engines and a shallow rumble starts up and shakes the plane. Dean holds onto the seat rests until his knuckles turn white, but he can't look away from the window. Trees and blades of grass alike bend and make way for the giant hunk of metal responsible for carrying some 120 people. The dance of nature parting for man is mesmerizing.

"Dean, would you like some chewing gum?" Castiel's voice asks from behind him. Dean turns around to find his angel holding out a singular cube of mint gum in his palm. With a small smile, he continues: "Sam told me that chewing gum helps the descent and ascent in a plane."

Graciously, Dean accepts the offering and palms the gum. The fingers on his other hand drum dully on the arm rest as the hunter figures out how to word his feelings. For a fleeting second, he completely forgets he's on an aircraft. "Cass?"

"Yes Dean?" He turns as he pops an earbud into his ear. Suddenly, the hunter's mouth is dry and he can't get the words out.

Dean fumbles a little and he licks his lips in order to recover. "Uh.. just, the look I gave you, I didn't mean—"

"Oh, Dean, I get it—"

"— it, I mean—"

"— you meant well—"

"Yeah."

"Yes..."

The two talk and stumble their sentences over one another until they run into an awkward pause in the conversation. The plane buzzes around them as they prepared to take off, and a baby is crying loudly. Dean, suddenly conscious to his situation, grips the nearest object— Castiel's thigh— and holds on for dear life. The angel gasps a little in surprise, but he goes with it. Sam, on the other hand, is smirking and whispering to Jess. It's obvious he's talking about sexual innuendos by the way he's pointing at the duo and gesticulating wildly. Dean can't bring himself to care.

The engine growls loudly as it prepares the commercial plane to accelerate and ascend into the sky. Dean isn't just shaking from the vibration of the engine.

Suddenly, the aircraft plunges forward and it takes off down the runway. The fearless hunter squeezes his eyes closed and pressed his mouth into a thin line to contain a yell. His fingers dig in deep into Cass' things, but the angel has a high pain tolerence. He's too focused on his television as he tries to figure it out.

Dean's vision begins to blur and he realizes he stopped breathing. He held his breath even as his lungs screamed for air and his vision narrowed into a thin tunnel of light. He didn't breathe because he felt like breathing could be enough to send the plane spiraling down to Earth.

Because of this, he blacked out.

xxx

When Dean awoke again, the rumble of the plane died down to a soft white noise. His head spins lightly as his equilibrium remembers how to sustain itself. Dean realizes there's no turning back, and he reaches outward for a doggy bag. He empties his stomach into in with a few convulsions.

Once he's finished, Dean rests his head on the back of the chair and pants softly. Closing his eyes, he tries to imagine himself safely on the ground. Unfortunately, it doesn't help. As he's giving up, however, a firm hand plants itself onto Dean's middle back and it moves in slow, soothing circles. Dean turns his head to find Castiel trying his best to comfort him whilst also staring into the movie. It seems Castiel finally figured out the TV and he is midway through Ghostbusters.

Across the way, Sam had fallen asleep on Jessica's shoulder. Dean can't help a smile as he remembers the times where he was that shoulder. Jess seems indulged in some romantic comedy.

Sighing, Dean ponders whether sitting up could help or not. In the end, however, he stays where he is. Whether it was Castiel's hand or his protesting head that stopped him is irrelevant.

"Dean, it's okay. I'm here." Castiel's rough voice rose above the soft rumble of the plane. Dean must be hyperventilating again. Something soft and unfamiliar wraps itself around Dean's shoulders, and he looks around to see nothing.

It took Dean forever to figure it out, but Castiel's broken wing drapes itself over Dean's shoulder like a mother bird protecting her chick. With a small smile on his face, Dean shifts his head to look at his angel. He gripped him tight and raised him from perdition, and he still thinks he owes something to Dean.

xxx

The older Winchester doesn't remember falling asleep, but when he wakes up, his head rests against Castiel's shoulder. In front of him, the television is blank, but the angel is still sitting as straight as a soldier. Dean leaps up in surprise, but the angel makes no further movement. Dean turns to look outside and pretends it didn't happen.

The clouds are white a fluffy in the tropopause, and bad weather seems miles behind them. The flight path is smooth enough for Dean to watch clouds float by like careless butterflies. For once, Dean realizes how beautiful it is up here.

But the peace doesn't last forever.

"Mommy, are we gonna land in the water?" A squeaky voice asks loudly from a row behind the group.

Dean looks at Castiel for an answer but then he realizes he doesn't have one. The chaos was just beginning.

"We're going to begin our initial descent." The loudspeaker bellowed and fueled the kids' protests.

"Daddy, is the wing gonna fall off?"

"Are we gonna die?"

"I think we blew an engine!"

Dean's head begins to spin again and he braces himself against the seat. He groans a little in annoyance as the airplane lurches downward a hair and sends his stomach to his chest. Closing his eyes again, he tells himself they're not going to crash. Everything is going to be okay. But as he looks outside, he realizes the buildings are getting closer and closer.

It took about 30 minutes of panicking plus one doggybag for the plane to land and for Dean to quit hyperventilating. When the wheels had touched the ground, Dean yelled out: "Oh thank the lord."

"My father had nothing to do with our safe arrival." Castiel had replied.

Soon enough, the small group was inching their way off the plane. The older Winchester hesitates at the gap again. Hundreds of feet below them is asphalt— glorious asphalt. It takes no effort for him to step over the crack without a care in the world.

As Dean escapes his worst fear, a rush of humidity hits him like a wave. As a smile draws on his lips and he relaxes, his family comes to stand beside him. He won't have to worry about another plane for 6 whole days. That's vacation enough for him.

xxx