A/N: Hey everyone, back again. I'm dedicating this story to Z.C.A for her birthday - you can thank her for the Destiel, because I told her to pick a pairing and I'd give it a crack. It's a bit introspective, as my one-shots tend to be, but it's a lot lighter than some of the things I've written lately. Also, I had to name it on the fly, so don't mock me or anything at how cliche it sounds.
Their Profound Bond:
Profound bond.
Sam would tease him about those words every now and again, when he needed a laugh or after Castiel had come out of nowhere and saved their asses, again. Stupid bitch thought it was hilarious. Well Dean begged to differ, thank-you-very-much.
Sure, he was grateful. Cas had pulled him out of Hell after all – forty years was more than enough to last him a lifetime. But he had to wonder if the guy even knew what sort of things he was implying when he talked about profound bonds. Because as much as he hated to admit it, Sam had a point; it was an awfully suggestive thing to say. He'd never admit that he agreed with his little brother out loud, but as long as it stayed in his head he'd allow himself some truth.
The most frustrating thing about the whole deal was that Dean didn't know which situation he'd prefer.
Cas had become a sort of messed up constant in his life – if you can call coming and going without warning to be constant – and it seemed almost like too much to ask that it actually mean something. Yet the thought that it might mean something, mean something more than just 'protecting the righteous man' and 'protecting the Winchesters', terrified him and sent him running for the nearest bar to drown out his conflicting emotions.
Okay, so Dean may or may not have been having an existential crisis.
Damn it why couldn't his life just be clear cut for once? Would that be too damn much to ask?
Time passed, Sam moped more and teased less, and Dean watched their Angel. For some insane reason he thought that observing might help him sort through the mess in his head, but it wasn't really working. Cas might be more adept at human emotion than, say, Raphael, but he had nothing on Gabriel. There was simply nothing there to read. Not that Dean had ever been particularly skilled at reading people.
The only time Dean ever got a good read on Castiel was when the angel was angry. And when Cas was angry, it was all sorts of intimidating. Thankfully that anger was barely ever directed at Dean, and he actually caught himself basking in the feeling of having someone mad on his behalf at one point. That had been a strange eye-opener. Dean Winchester, enjoying being protected? Usually he hated people putting themselves at risk for his sake. Maybe it was the fact that he knew damn well that Cas could take care of himself in a fight that let his raging alpha-male calmly accept his assistance.
Dean certainly didn't feel oddly warm or fuzzy inside when Castiel protected him.
All the ups and downs of life in general didn't faze Dean much anymore – he was used to the Universe screwing them over by now, he'd almost be more worried if something went right for a change. Shit happened, and it was unavoidable.
Sam was the one who – surprisingly tactfully – pointed out that the majority of his drinking these days coincided with Cas being absent. What sort of stupid thing was that to notice anyway? Dean had laughed it off and told him to fuck off, but the realisation hit him harder than he let on.
It was a well-known and accepted fact of life that Dean drank to suppress his emotions; what he wasn't sure of was when his emotions started revolving so deeply around his angel. There was nothing logical about it, but Dean had never been the most logical of men, and his lifestyle was as illogical as you could get, so logic didn't have much pride of place in his life.
For the most part he ignored it; the feelings, the looks and mentions from Sam. He ignored it all because he wasn't good with emotions and he had no clue what the hell was going on and he had a policy – no chick flick moments – that had served him well in the past and change was unwanted.
Denial didn't dim the thrum of that little corner of his psyche that begged for something normal in his screwed up life, regardless of the fact that loving an angel was probably blasphemy or sin and everything other than normal.
Distance makes the heart grow fonder.
Well maybe it did, but it didn't stop Dean from flipping out when Cas finally made a reappearance.
He had been – worried out of his mind – concerned, sort of, and Castiel's quick dismissal of it pissed Dean off. Served him right for worrying about an angel.
At the same time he pretended he didn't notice the look in those blue eyes as they watched him.
It was the angels falling that really broke Dean. Metatron had used Cas for his own douchebag plans and now his best friend, his brother in arms, his… a person he cared a hell of a lot about was wandering the planet somewhere with no powers and no aid.
Yes, Sam was first priority, and yes, he thought Zeke was a bit of a dick, but when that was done and dusted, when Sam wasn't dying in a hospital bed, his first thoughts had been for Cas.
His heart ached, knowing that even if Cas could hear him praying he wouldn't be able to respond. He punched walls and kicked doors in his frustration, because it was just like him to finally figure something out only when it had been ripped away from him. He needed Cas, and even if he couldn't put words to reason, he knew it was true.
Finding him only to see he was dead, something had snapped inside of him. He blocked out Zeke's explanation about healing Sam and blah blah blah and demanded, voice broking no argument, that he bring Cas back. Angel or no, there was no way he could live without Cas, not after all this time.
Dean pulled the blade out and sat on the floor in the trashed apartment, cradling Castiel's head in his lap, staring intently at Zeke, the angel in his little brother, and without regret issued that command.
Cas jerked to life in his arms and Dean simply held him, ignoring his brother's frantic queries when he 'regained consciousness'. Nothing existed outside of himself and Cas, not for that moment. They stared at each other and Dean just tugged him closer, engulfing him in a hug, trying to pour across his emotions with that singular act. He must have felt something of it, because Cas rested his head in the crook of Dean's neck and, only slightly hesitantly, wrapped his own arms around Dean, clutching at his shirt.
It was the beginning of something that should have started long before then, but took far too much near-death and actual death to accomplish. The profound bond that existed between them had always been meant for a little more than just saving Dean – they were saving each other, in every way imaginable, and it was as God decreed it, because hidden or not, he knew that Dean Winchester of all people deserved at least one good turn.