A/N: OH MY GOD SAMANDRIEL WHY O KGLMTG okay so this is my response to the heartbreaking episode that was Torn and Frayed. Sorry if the POV is confusing - it's supposed to be third person omnipotent but basically I just switch off between Dean and Cas a little bit. I stay with Dean for most of it.
Please tell me how you think about it? Please? saMANDRIEL BEGS YOU!
Sundays were difficult for Castiel. They had been for a while, and they would be for the rest of time. Dean never pushed it when the last (or first, he never really figured that one out) day of the week rolled around. They usually stayed in, preferring to keep to the other's arms instead of facing the world outside.
Sundays would eventually become a day of warmth and comfort in Castiel's mind, but it would be a long wait until he could get over his trauma.
Dean understood Cas's pain – hell, he was the caused of a lot of it, to tell the truth. Still, the guy had spent countless millennia living in peace and barely having to deal with the emotion and pain of living in the dirt – but alas, all good things must come to an end. Truth be told, when Castiel laid a hand on Dean in Hell, he really was lost. Emotions poured in, doubts conceived, and instantly every plan, every destiny centering the Winchester boys – in fact, the world – had been irrevocably changed through the power of Castiel's will.
It was on a particularly unimportant Sunday that things began to change for the better. Dean and Cas hadn't gotten out of bed just yet; the sun was just starting to peek through their terribly-covered windows, and birds had begun their morning calls. Castiel always was an early riser – he wasn't as used to the nightmares as Dean was - but he had chosen to huddle into Dean's warmth instead of getting up to start making breakfast.
A soft sigh slipped out of Castiel's mouth, cresting over Dean's gentle expression.
His eyelids fluttered open as he felt the warm breath caressing his cheek, and he saw two impossibly blue orbs staring back at him. "Hey, Cas," Dean mumbled, hugging his angel just a little closer. Cas allowed this will for a manly warmth-hug, and settled himself so he could look into Dean's eyes without craning his neck in any awkward directions.
"Hello, Dean," Cas murmured, bumping his nose to his hunter's with a gentle smile. "I thought you would still be asleep."
"Hell no," Dean grumbled softly, "You know I'm a light sleeper, man." Cas nodded in affirmation, but simply responded with a kiss, pressing his lips to Dean's.
The hunter responded in kind, opening his mouth with a soft pop and gently explored Cas's mouth with his tongue. Both hunter and angel felt the faint stirrings of arousal as they lazily kissed and rutted against each other, but nothing was going anywhere fast.
Then, if anything were to go anywhere, it was straight out the window – because a timid knock at the door interrupted their ministrations completely. "Daddy? Poppa?" a faint voice blew into the room.
Stifling a groan, Dean rolled over and shoved his legs out of bed, sitting up and covering his half-hard dick. "Yeah? He called back, looking guiltily at Castiel as he did so.
"I had a bad dream," the voice tittered from the other side of the door, "can I sleep with you guys? Please?"
This was where things split off in two directions. John Winchester, great daddy he was, would have shoved a gun into Dean's arms and told him the monsters would (most likely) leave him alone if he shot at 'em with it. Castiel's own Father had been absent for most of his life.
Dean shuffled over to the door, sparing a quick glance to the shotgun that lay underneath his bed before opening it up with a wide grin on his face. "C'mon in, sport," Dean ruffled the little boy's hair affectionately, "We can make room for three, right?" He flashed a worried glance to Cas, but the angel merely nodded and smiled down at the dark-haired boy.
"What did you dream about, Alfie?" Cas asked gently, as though he was confronting a wild beast.
Alfie bit his tiny lower lip and directed his cerulean eyes down to the ground. "I had a dream that you killed someone," he said at last, "and they had the same name as me!" At this point, he had looked up into Castiel's eyes, searching for any sign of recognition.
For a boy barely older than nine, he sure picked up on a lot. Castiel managed to keep his face a cool smile as he regarded their son. "Alfie, it was just a dream," Cas told him after a quiet moment. "You don't need to be afraid of me."
Alfie nodded, remaining silent as he climbed into bed beside Castiel. The angel shared an uncomfortable glance with Dean over Alfie's mop of dark, matted hair. Dean understood that look perfectly – scared out of your ass terrified. Dean felt exactly the same way, too.
See, Alfie wasn't just your normal run of the mill angel-made child. He had the smallest bit of Samandriel's grace inside that tiny, nine year-old boy, and that meant a world of trouble for Dean and Cas as he got older. Once he realized he was kind of once the angel of conception? Hopefully he'd be older than eighteen when he figured that one out – the thought of all those terrible pickup lines nearly gave Dean a freakin' hernia.
The important thing was, Cas killed Samandriel when being controlled by Naomi. Of course, Samandriel would probably have figured that out (had he been around after said death), but the fact that he was dead was kind of an off-putter. After breaking free from Noami's crazy Heaven-schemes (and blowing up most of the place in the process), Cas had salvaged what was left of Samandriel's grace and headed back to Earth – this time, forever. With the backwash of Heaven's power ringing through him, he managed to create something out of near nothing – a small, mostly human child.
His name was Alfie, and this time, Castiel was determined to do him right.