I KNOW I NEED TO KEEP MY PROMISES YADA YADA YADA i just wanted to write a destiel okay! i will finish my SP story, in fact its halfway done about, but i still need to work on that, but sorry to say that shouldnt be expected for a VERY VERY long time. in the meantime, enjoy this deatiel fic, in the spirit of a new member of the wonderful supernatural fandom, (im in season seven now)
Castiel doesn't like to recall all the times he's watched Dean, how long it's been since he's first seen Dean over how long it's been since Dean first saw him. It would not make him look good, especially towards Dean, someone who longed for his privacy. Castiel refused to tell him how beautiful he's found him, even as an infant. Castiel knew he wouldn't get any bonus points for telling him he was an attractive baby, knowing Dean, he would just get sent to the couch.
Castiel couldn't help it though, whenever he saw that matured, slightly stubble-covered face, he always saw the steps it took to get where he was now. Castiel remembered the day Dean was conceived, that was the day he got the most important mission of his entire existence, watch over the Winchesters, especially that one.
Cas has been in the delivery room the day Mary was screaming all kinds of unholy words toward John. Mary really needed to go to confession after that day had been his main thought. At least until Dean had been held in the doctors, then Mary and John's arms.
Dean had the chubbiest baby face he had ever seen, with tiny cinnamon sprinkles all over his nose and cheeks. His eyes were squeezed shut and he was screaming loud enough to wake the angels in heaven, not like they had been resting anyway. Dean had been born, and today was the day to celebrate. Even he felt the urge to smile, and that's just what he did. Somehow, he knew this would end in more, more than Cas had ever imagined. Castiel would have never guessed they would be the way they were now though. This was mainly because he felt nothing until he actually talked to Dean for the first time, which would be in a few years.
Later that week though, when they finally returned home, Castiel could not stop thinking of that baby, which back then he had though was because of his mission, he did not realize the melting of his heart was more than loyalty to his father. He watched as Mary and John kissed their baby on the forehead as it fell asleep. Castiel stayed with the child, watching its tiny chest rise and fall. About an hour passed when suddenly, little Dean stirred and his eyes squinted open and he let out the tiniest of squeals. Cas looked down at the child, then going against his better judgment, picked the child up in his arms as he cried. He swiped a thumb over his forehead and the infant fell silent, resting snug against Cas, yet the angel still did not know the swelling in his chest, he just smiled slightly and laid the baby back in the crib, where he slept the rest of the night. In a few years, Mary would brag to her neighbor about how good of a sleeper little Dean was, and he would keep up his silence, but feel a sense of pride for providing the couple with the peace they needed, seeing as the woman was festering another life inside her at the moment.
Castiel liked Mary, she was strong willed and loyal to everyone, even her husband who was often running around. Castiel didn't like Dean's father as much, he often hurt Mary and Dean, making Dean, the tiny four year old have to take care of his distressed mother, which seemed backwards even to him. Not that Dean thought it was backwards, this was one of the last moments Dean would be innocently unaware, Dean would never be able to say he had someone taking care of him after the accident that would happen in a month, his father would be so unstable as to completely ignore him and Dean would have to take care of his brother, who was drooling in his sleep upstairs at the moment. One month. Just one month was what Dean had left of his innocence, and it wouldn't even be a good innocence, it would be playing in a small enclosed area listening to his parents yelling at each other, then the accompanied sound of a slamming screen door and quiet sobs, by then whitewater noise to him.
Castiel didn't know the name of this pain in his chest either, although it was significantly different than the other. Now looking back on it, he knew it was compassion, grief even, for something so precious and so far gone. Dean was never given his childhood.
It would be six years later, when he was ten and his brother was six when Castiel would do his first rebellious act, and pay severely for it.
John was out on a hunt, Dean watching his brother on the playground while he sat where the parents usually sat. Mothers would look down at the intent child, asking him why he wasn't playing with his brother. Dean would look up at them with sharply and just stare with those depthless green eyes. Suspicion and protectiveness a thick shell over the insecurities and broken mental state he had developed since the house fire. The women would become startled and scoot away, although their motherly concern would still yearn to comfort the mature boy, much more mature than a normal ten year old. He seemed like an aged adult in every aspect but his actual age. Even his eyes were beginning to tire, yet still kept the hop that was there every time his father left, that his hero was returning, with a better story than any fairy tales a normal parent would tell their children, because his fathers were true, he faced the monsters and he defeated the bad guys. One by one, the mothers left, and finally it was only Dean and Sam, who despite a light drizzle beginning, refused to leave the playground.
"Come on Sammy, we gotta get home." Dean said, exasperated. However Sam just stuck his tongue out, thinking it was a joke, and ran back toward the monkey bars.
"SAMMY!" Dan shouted in a fit of rage. Sam froze and looked at his older brother, when suddenly his eyes got wide.
"Dean look out!" but an older man was already grabbing the child around the neck pinning him to his chest with the crook of his arm. Dean kicked his legs out fruitlessly. The man held the knife to his neck, a mouth whispering in his ear with clenched teeth.
That was the moment Castiel would never forget, the screams of his brethren, the buzzing possibilities of his punishment, but the one line that continued its repetition was his mission.
"Keep Dean Winchester safe." And that's what he was made to do, and he would do it.
Feeling the sudden breeze blow around him, he stalked over, grabbed the man and, without a second thought, flung him away from the boy impossibly far. Dean had been dropped as soon as Castiel had grabbed the man, and Dean was trying to regain his breath, and running toward his little brother, who was stumbling through the woodchips of the playground. The man ran away, stumbling away, suggesting he was drunk, despite the early hour of the day. Castiel walked toward the children, not knowing how they would react.
Dean stood in front of his brother, a vicious expression that must have taken years to mold. His body completely covering Sam's, his head lifted proudly, and his chest puffed out.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
Castiel shrugged "I'm an angel of the Lord,"
Deans eyebrow raised, perplexed for just a moment, as though he was thinking his prayers could have possibly been answered, but years of shaping rebounded back on him and his face was angry again.
"Just leave us alone,"
"I don't deserve any kind of gratitude?" Cas asked, not knowing where the comment came from. His inner radio was blaring on full volume, angels from all over the Garrison screaming at him to run, hide, even kill the children. He did none of those. Instead, he placed a hand on both of their shoulders and before Dean could yell anything, they were back at their motel room. Sam looked up with round eyes, in awe of Castiel, but Dean was not as impressed.
"Maybe I should rephrase my question, WHAT are you?" Dean sneered.
Cas felt the corners of his mouth turn "Have I not explained? I am an angel of the lord."
Deans' eyes got wide "You're a freak! Like what-" he looked at his brother, then hissed quietly "Like what dad hunts,"
Cas felt another pain in his stomach, much different from the first but similar to the second one. This one would be later identified as sadness, loneliness "I'm far from a hell bred monster Dean,"
Dean couldn't help the explosion of "DON'T SAY MY NAME!"
Dean went to put Sammy down for a nap, and came back, a rigid look in his eyes but it was slightly melting, evidence of what little Sam did to his brother.
"But . . . angels don't exist, life isn't about magic fairies and crystal balls and all that junk in the bible, it's about the hell we go through, the demons and ghouls and monsters. In a world so bad, there can't be anything good left. That's what dad told me." Dean said, sitting down as though it was harder to believe in angels than demons.
Castiel san down as well and looked toward the child "Dean, could it possibly occur to you that your father is wrong? That-" the chair was on the floor before Cas got to continue his prepared speech on not giving up hope.
"MY FATHER IS NOT WRONG! MY FATHER KNOWS EVERYTHING ABOUT EVERYTHING!" Dean screamed at him, he left a small bit of saliva spray in his face, but chose to ignore it. He would never get through this hardened shell of loyalty Dean showed towards the man, even at such a young age, he had been strictly trained to fight for his family, and Castiel knew he could not change that in just one sitting, especially if his father was still alive. So Castiel stood up and walked over toward where Sam was sleeping. He put two fingers and drew out the memory, feeling the warmth seem into his fingers, up his arm, and into his head. Dean looked at him.
"What did you just do to my brother?!" Castiel walked toward him, Dean backed up.
"I took the memory away, of the playground and the man and me. I was not supposed to show myself," and before Dean could turn towards a doorway, as he had just hit the wall, Cas had two fingers on his soft forehead and felt the memory seeming into him. Dean's eyes rolled back and he passed out. Cas felt the same pang in his stomach as he felt the second time, the guilt he now knew. He lifted him in his arms and put him back on the bed next to Sam, and almost before he could get his arms out from underneath him, he felt himself being sucked out of his vessel, and back toward heaven, where he would not be permitted to leave for fifteen long years, a short while before Dean would fetch his brother from Stanford.
But there was no way he was going to quit his post, for just like Dean, Cas was a good little soldier, an obedient puppet. However there was almost a connection that had already been made, at least to him. Dean already held a special place to him, and he was not sure he had ever known anything about this. This feeling frightened him, because he was feeling. The best kind of soldiers don't feel, it keeps logic at the highest peak, no distractions, no other loyalties that were tied by that stupid red string of fate, but Cas had already begun to see it, tying itself so tight around his finger it was almost painful. He begged for it to be released but Fate refused, saying it is what was needed of him, and it was the only thing that would take him to his highest point in his existence.
Castiel didn't understand, he was at his highest in the game, one of God's most trusted angels, always on the most important missions, how could a mere mortal be so much more important than his father?
And yet the "mere mortal" was already beginning to change him, make him beg to go back down to earth and interact with them, maybe stop what was going to happen. It took long enough to allow him back on earth, but he was not allowed to show himself until it was time, so he was cast back down shortly after the Wendigo incident. Cas was there for everything, the missions, the fighting, the laughs and tears that someone as unfeeling as him could not possibly understand yet. He was even there for the sex that Dean had, and that was the closest Cas got to feeling, and he didn't see the importance, it only felt painful, a cold fire in his belly and a heated ice in his eyes. Never before had he felt this sensation, now labeled jealousy. It was nearly unbearable.
Then the accident happened, the one that they never thought of and probably should have, Dean selling his soul to the devil for his brother. There was no one to save the world, and the angels worked tirelessly to think of a solution, until the only option left was to prepare to go into hell and fetch him, and Cas knew he would be damned to not be the one to rescue him.
The scorching heat he felt when down to the most damned place ever imagined was nearly unbearable, even after the year and four months of preparing. When the seal was broken, they knew they couldn't wait any longer, they had to fetch him before any more damage was done. He flew down, more determined than ever before, and grabbed his shoulder. Castiel almost dropped him from the sudden burning pain in his entire being, and he quickly threw his soul back into his body, but not before he saw the damage he had done, the handprint scorched onto his body, which could possibly be explained because of him grabbing him with his true form, instead of a vessel, however he wasn't certain, and he noticed the thin, translucent red string had flashed bright red before absorbing into his finger and into the new handprint in Dean's VERY toned shoulder. Cas knew he would wake soon, so he disappeared with a very unsubtle flash that he knew later had destroyed an entire forest. He didn't have time to fix it, he needed to speak to Fate.
Fate was at her usual seat when he flashed in and she slowly turned with the barest hint of a smile before it disappeared into her business expression.
"I need you to fix Deans arm," Cas said. Fate tutted.
"Cas, you know that isn't my department" he narrowed his eyes.
He stepped closer, she stayed stonily still "I know you know what happened with the red string of Fate, it sunk into his skin, what is that?"
Fate just shook her head "what is the difference between a string and a scar?" Castiel just stared "A string can be untied, it can be unraveled, and has been more times than should be legal, scars are permanent, they last forever, there is no way to get rid of them. And you know very well, Castiel, that that boy is your destiny," Castiel did not know how to respond, he didn't understand how he could be someone's destiny, destiny was a path, not a being.
Fate obviously saw the confusion on his face, because she just rolled her eyes and said "Looks like your destiny is calling you. The boss said you can reveal yourself,"
Cas didn't hesitate to go down, obtain his vessel, whom he'd had contact with for a while, and finally meet adult Dean face to face, which didn't go as well as he had hoped.
The number of hunts they went on, all of the tasks, it felt strange, because he was feeling things. He felt the joys of fulfilling hunger, which he never should have been. He knew the angers or betrayal, when Dean was so ungrateful to him, he felt the shame of disappointing everyone, of not seeing the first feelings he had ever felt, which he could now label.
That first stomach pang was love.
He remembered the day that Sam had been doing research, while they were settled around the table, doing their own research. Castiel could not help but let his eyes stray toward the other man. He had matured significantly in the years, yet it suited him, the tanned lines on his face, the hollows in his cheeks, even the slight downward shift of his amazingly green eyes. He always looked back down at his computer screen, pretending he knew what he was doing, half a second before Dean looked up.
Dean slammed his hands down on the table after thirty minutes of this routine, and stood up, trying to go for a bottle of jack in the cabinet, Castiel was up in a moment.
"Dean, its two o'clock, even I know this isn't normal human behavior."
Dean glared at the angel, but knew he would never get the bottle back, yet he still wanted to try. He shoved him hard, and tried to grab the bottle, but Castiel was not letting go, trying to tell him he could help him solve the problem.
Finally, Dean got fed up, and shoved Castiel into a wall, pain stabbing up his back where he hit a beam. Dean's eyes flickered to his lips for a good tw seconds, before finally making them connect.
The true vessel was the best human representation of what the angel assigned would look like, and he had explained that to Dean a while ago. Jimmy Novak was gone, he had freed him, and Jimmy had agreed to let him still host his body, so he was long gone. This human was Cas, Cas was this tangible, visible person, and Dean had just proved that, his hands wringing into his trench coat, while Cas had begun to join, hair frantic in his hair and neck, pulling deeper, closer, anything, what he had wanted for the thirty, some odd years he knew he was in love with Dean.
He tried to drown Dean in the affection, leave marks on him other that the handprint, ones that Dean will remember getting. He pushed back at the older Winchester, proving as hard as he could that this wasn't one sided, that Castiel felt it too.
They would do many things together that they would remember forever, especially in moments like these, when he lay in bed with dean, the larger man wrapped around him and sleeping soundly against his back. Cas turned over so he was facing toward Dean, the routine so usual Dean didn't even wake up from the shift. Castiel looked upward at the softly breathing man, never imagining something so strange to be in his life. Never before had he thought love of all things was what Fate had told him, a battle trained warrior, so susceptible to such an earthly yet holy feeling of belonging and happiness.
It was moments like these, when everything was simple, if only for the few moments they had before he woke up or before some other mystery creature would need to be taken care of, that Castiel liked to reflect on these moments, even the ones Dean didn't have any knowledge of Castiel acquiring, and sometimes, those were the best moments of all.
Hope you liked, because this was fun to write, sorry, very anti climatic ending but i just needed to write SOMETHIGN to release all these fucked up emotions right now, thanks for dealing with my shit, goodnight peoples.