Title: Cherished
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: …
Prompt: Destiel Writers and Readers (January 2017) Quotations Challenge. Week 3: "You were made to soar, to crash to earth, then to rise and soar again." – Alfred Wainwright
Word Count: 1,116
Rating: M
Genre: Romance, Friendship, Angst
Summary: He'd heard tales of a connection like this. Of a bond like this… The multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent wished, with every molecule of his being, for nothing more than to stay in this moment for the rest of his existence…
Author's Notes: Also inspired by a Tumblr post I saw somewhere.
Episode Tags:
8.23 "Sacrifice"
9.18 "Meta Fiction"
10.18 "Book of the Damned"
Disclaimer: I own nothing …

Dean pressed a kiss to the center of Castiel's back, right between his shoulder blades… right between his broken wings. He ran his hands up along the angel's back, massaging the taut muscles with strong, calloused hands. Loosening the knots he found as he went. The angel held his body rigid against the contact. It was new and unexpected. The more Dean's hands pressed into his stiff muscles, though, the more he found himself relaxing as he lay face down on the comfortable bed. He'd just breathed a gratified sigh when, starting from the base, the man trailed reverent kisses up his spine. Castiel shivered at the sensation as it travelled through his nerves and made him feel… cherished. Unbidden, moisture gathered, stinging his eyes. He squeezed them shut and revelled in the feel of those heated lips trailing on his skin.

When he reached the base of Castiel's neck, Dean wrapped himself around the tanned, muscular body and rolled them both to the side so that other's head rested on one of his arms, nuzzling his nose behind the angel's uncovered ear, and breathing in his scent – a mixture of ozone and honey. Castiel snuggled back into Dean's confident embrace, sighing contently as the hunter trailed tender kisses along the side of his neck and along his shoulder. Warmth blossomed in his core and gently spread through his veins until his fingers and toes tingled.

Dean's hand smoothed along Castiel's torso, down, down, down. Following the dark trail of hair below his navel… Castiel gasped and Dean chuckled in his ear before sucking in the lobe and nibbling on it. The sensations the hunter's touch elicited from his body were unlike any he'd ever truly felt before in his longs existence. (Not even that one time with the reaper, April, could begin to compare.) His body shook and his being shattered and came apart, piece by piece, only to be reassembled and reborn in the rapture of their bonding.

Making love.

That's what his was. Not sex, not intercourse, not fucking. They were making love. A tear escaped Castiel's eye as he clung to his lover. To Dean. He'd heard tales of a connection like this. Of a bond like this… The multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent wished, with every molecule of his being, for nothing more than to stay in this moment for the rest of his existence…

"Hey, Sammy," Dean greeted cheerily. "I wasn't expecting you by today."

"D-Dean," Sam stuttered. "Uh, hi."

"I was just going to throw some burgers on the grill, you want some?" Dean asked as he lead the way through the living room towards the open sliding door that lead to the back deck. Sam watched as his brother stepped out and walked to the figure that was already there. He watched, surprised as Dean approached them.

"Hey, Cas. We got a visitor," Dean called as he approached Castiel. The angel turned and Dean pressed a quick kiss to his lips, causing Sam's eyebrows to shoot up. Dean turned to the barbecue grill and began setting it up, while Castiel turned to Sam and smiled warmly.

"It's good to see you Sam, we weren't expecting you back so soon," he welcomed.

"I'll be right back," Dean said as he went back into the house to retrieve the meat.

"Cas," Sam hissed and strode forward urgently. "Cas, this isn't real. Not of this is real. The djinn-"

The serenity in Castiel's countenance disappeared. "I know."

"-has you und- what?" Sam looked at Castiel, startled at the admission.

"I know it isn't, Sam," Castiel replied with sigh and moved to sit on one of the deck chairs.

"Then you know you can't stay here," Sam stated. "You have to come back with me."

"Why?" Castiel asked, a sad look overtaking his expression. "I'm… I'm happy here, Sam. Why can't I stay?"

Sam crouched down in front of Castiel. "You know why, Cas. If you stay here, you'll die."

"I'll live a full life," Castiel shrugged. "We'll have full lives."

"But it won't be real," Sam reasoned. They could hear Dean coming back. "Cas, please. Dean is worried sick about you… the real Dean." Castiel's certainty in his decision to go along with this sham cracked. "Please, Castiel. You're my friend. I can't lose you either."

"Dammit, Cas," Dean shouted. "How could you be so stupid? Going after a djinn by yourself like that." Castiel flinched at the accusations. Sam tried to intervene but Dean refused to hear him out. "You could've died." He shoved the motel chair so hard it hit the table with a resounding crack. "No more going off on hunts on your own, understand?"

Castiel sighed sadly and looked down. "Yes. I understand."

"Good. If anyone needs me, I'll be at the pub we were at earlier." Dean strode out of the room. The room was silent, one of the remaining occupants looking pityingly at the other while the second's gaze remained pointed at the floor.

"Cas, I-"

"He doesn't find out."

"What? Cas-" Sam tried to protest.

"I mean it, Sam," Castiel turned imploring blue eyes on the younger Winchester. "He doesn't find out."

Sam breathed a long sigh, his shoulders drooping. "Yeah. Yeah, I get it," he relented. "I won't tell him."

Castiel could've kicked himself for not realizing it sooner. Metatron had given him all of his knowledge, it should've been more obvious regardless of whether or not he was used to accessing his newfound knowledge without obvious prompting – like with the Death Star and emperor reference Sam had made. He dragged himself to the book he needed and knocked it off the shelf. As it hit the floor, the vial with the remainder of his grace toppled out. His blood pounded in his veins as he picked it up. He looked up at Metatron, pain filled vengeance in his eyes. The scribe took off and left him as he forced himself up into a seated position. "What's the maddest thing a man could do?" he quoted as he untwisted the cap. "Let himself die."

When his grace reconnected with his core, the resulting energy wave knocked numerous books off their shelves. He rose to his feet and his grace shined so brightly it sang, thrilled to be back home in the core of his being. He lifted his wings, battered and broken but still there. His angelic strength was swiftly returning. He was no longer human, no longer dying. Vengeance pounded in his heart as he ran everything he'd been through in the past year and a half through his mind. Every last bit of pain, and struggle, and heartache.

Metatron would pay.

-30-

Completed: January 23, 2017