The light was slowly fading from the small bedroom as Mary Winchester tucked her four year old son into bed. She couldn't hold back the smile that tugged on the corners of her lips as big green eyes looked up at her from beneath sleepy eyelids.
"You sleepy, little man?" She asked as she pushed the soft blonde hair away from his forehead, her hand coming to rest on top of his head. She smiled again as a yawn escaped his small body. "Go to sleep, Dean. You can wait for Sam to come after you get some rest."
"What if he comes while I'm asleep?" Dean demanded, his tiny fingers fisting into the shirt stretched across Mary's pregnant belly. "I want Sammy to know I'm his brother."
"Oh, honey, you don't need to worry about that," Mary assured him, pulling her slender fingers through Dean's hair, just the way he liked. "If he comes while you're asleep, Daddy will wake you up."
"Promise?" Dean asked as his eyes began to close, despite his resistance.
"I promise," Mary told him. He seemed pleased with her answer and allowed his eyelids to fully drop. Mary watched him then, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, with fondness crinkling the skin around her eyes. She felt so lucky to have a son like Dean and she praised God every day for her family. Her husband and her two sons, one of which was expected at any time now.
"Momma?" Dean's tired voice pulled Mary from her thoughts. She looked down at him again, unaware of when she had even looked away.
"Yes, Dean?" She whispered and a delighted expression spread across her face as he reached for her stomach again.
"Will you sing to me and Sammy?" Dean asked, eyes reverently watching where his hand rested like he expected his little brother to suddenly pop out.
"Of course, sweetie."
Dean nuzzled his head into his pillow, fingers still splayed against the expanse of Mary's belly. And as he fell asleep, Mary began to sing.
"And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain, don't carry the world upon your shoulders. For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool by making his world a little colder."
It had been five days since Sam Winchester had seen his dad. At least that's how long he thought it had been. Days spent inside a motel room with nothing but crap television and his brother heating up cans of beanie weenies for dinner just kind of blurred together. Especially when all his seven year old mind could think about was playing in the park down the street where he had heard kids earlier in the day when the sun had still been up. And he just…why couldn't he have fun? Like all the other kids?
His dad's stupid job made his life hard. Plus it made Dean sad. Even if he thought Sam didn't see it and he thought he hid it well. But Dean was only 11 and shouldn't he be able to go out and play too? Instead of feeding his little brother dinner and making sure he brushed his teeth before bed? It made Sam mad. Furious even. He had way too much anger in his scrawny body and it was all directed at his dad. Even if he was worried, just like he always was when his dad disappeared like this.
"You okay, Sam?" Dean asked, the concerned tone of his voice pulling Sam from his own mind. He looked up to find his older brother staring at him with those wide green eyes that almost always saw straight through him.
"I just miss Dad," Sam told him, pushing the last few bites of his dinner back and forth across his plate. "Has he called?" When Dean frowned, Sam instantly wished he hadn't said a word. He didn't like it when his brother was upset.
"No," Dean finally said before he took a sip of his milk. He wiped the residue from his top lip with the back of his hand before continuing. "He'll be back soon. Don't worry, Sammy. Just finish your dinner and we'll watch some t.v., okay?" Sam could only nod as they both went back to eating.
Later that night, Sam woke up to a loud crashing sound. His heart leapt in his chest, choking him as he looked around the dim room. The only light came from the television that they must have fallen asleep with on. But then a flashing light filled the room and Sam whimpered.
He hated storms.
He shook his brother until the older boy grumbled his way into consciousness.
"What?" Dean gritted out, pulling himself up. "What is it?"
"Storm," Sammy cried as he drew his legs up against his chest and hid his face in the rough denim of his jeans. It was only a few seconds before he felt Dean's arms curling around him. When he had a good grip, he lifted Sam up and headed into the bedroom they shared. Sam tried not to cry. He did. But the sound of thunder and the flashes of lightening were scaring him. Dean probably thought he was a big baby or something.
If he did, Dean didn't say anything about it. He didn't even tease Sam. He just tucked his brother up underneath the thin motel blanket and sat down beside him.
"It's okay, Sammy," he promised as he pushed his fingers through the ridiculously long hair on the seven year olds head. "I won't let anything happen to you." Sam had started to calm down until thunder clapped above them. Warm tears slid down his cheeks as he clenched his eyelids tightly together.
"You wanna know a secret, Sammy? About Mom?" Dean asked and it was obvious that he was trying to keep Sam's mind away from the storm that was raging outside their temporary home. Dean never talked about their mom unless he was trying to calm Sam down. Sam couldn't find it in himself to care. He wanted to know everything he could about her – he had been too young when she died to actually remember anything. "You know how parents sing their kids lullabies? Well, Mom did the same thing for us. Kind of. See, her favourite song was Hey Jude by the Beatles. You know that song right?" When Sam nodded, Dean continued. "That's what she'd sing to us."
"Really?" Sam inquired, unable to keep the amazement from his voice. His mom sounded wonderful and sometimes he didn't think it was fair that Dean had got to keep memories of her but he hadn't. Even if it seemed like Dean would have preferred not to have them.
"Yes, really. And she was good too. But I swear, she barely got three words out before you'd pass out," Dean poked at Sam's stomach as he grinned. Sam shoved Dean's hands away but he was smiling too. He really liked it when Dean talked about Mom.
There was a beat of silence before Sam asked Dean if he'd sing it to him. He didn't actually think that his brother would comply with the request. But Dean began rearranging them so that he was curled around his little brother, the way he used to do when Sam was just a six month old baby who didn't know, and began to sing softly.
"Hey Jude, don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better. Remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better. Hey Jude, don't be afraid. You were made to go out and get her. The minute you let her under your skin, then you begin to make it better."
Castiel was flying. His black wings were outstretched on both sides of his body as he soared over the ocean. Salt from the water tickled his throat and the cool breeze ruffled the feathers spread across the expanse of his wings. Castiel was happy, allowing the calm of the great depth to lull the voice of his brothers. He stretched his wings more, letting them carry him further from shore. He startled seagulls as he passed by, floating down to skim his wings along the surface of the water.
Finally, he flew back up. Higher and higher until the taste of salt was less intense in the air and the water seemed like an expanse of blue plains below him. Then he was falling. He strained to regain control but when he looked back at his wings to see what was wrong, they were gone. His shoulders were bare and human. And he was plummeting toward the water with no way to stop.
Castiel awoke gasping for air. His lungs felt tight in his chest as he sat up and looked around. He wasn't at the bottom of the ocean – he was in his home. With a shaky sigh, he lowered himself back against the mattress. No matter how many times he had the nightmare, tears always flowed from his eyes when he was pulled away from it. Because even though he still had his wings, hidden in a different plane of reality than his body, he couldn't use them. He wasn't an angel anymore.
But he wasn't a human either. Therefore he could sense Dean returning to their room before he heard or saw the hunter. It was only a few short seconds after Castiel had felt Dean's intent to come back to bed that the door slowly creaked open.
Dean started when he saw that Castiel was awake. He gently shut the door behind him and scratched idly at his bare abdomen as he approached the bed.
"Hey, Cas," he mumbled sleepily and Castiel realized that Dean had only left him alone to relieve himself. Why had he felt like maybe Dean was sick of hearing him cry every night? "Nightmare, again?" When Castiel nodded a confirmation, Dean slid back into the bed and began untangling the blanket from Castiel's legs. He pulled it up over their bodies and drew Castiel close, tucking the angel's head under his chin. He soothed Castiel's back with warm, tentative fingers until he felt some of the tension leave his shoulders.
"You want to talk about it this time?" Dean's voice was cautious as the question fell from his tongue. Castiel didn't miss the way his heart stuttered in his chest. Dean, after all this time and everything they had been through together, didn't think that his angel (and Castiel was definitely his) trusted him. The realization sat heavily on his chest, constricting his breath until he had to say something.
"I was flying," he said before he even realized that he was finally going to tell Dean. He pressed his face against Dean's shoulder and continued, "Over the ocean because that is – was, that was my favourite place. Especially during the sunrise. But then my wings were gone. I started falling. And I was trying to stop when I woke up." And Castiel was surprised to find that it felt good to share with Dean what had been plaguing him for months.
"I know you miss Heaven but I'm glad you're here," As Dean spoke, he trailed a finger under Cas' chin and gently angled his face up. Their eyes met in a mesh of blue and green right before their lips touched. It was a short and sweet kiss but it was enough to rid Castiel's body of the last of his tension. When they parted, Dean nudged his nose against Castiel's and said, "I love you."
"I love you too, Dean," Castiel promised as he looked directly into Dean's eyes. "I would never be able to leave now. Not when I have the chance to be here, with you."
Dean smiled, his face filling with the lines of his obvious happiness. Inside, Castiel was keening at the fact that he had put that happiness there. Even if Dean looked older than he had when Castiel had first met him in that old barn, he had never looked more beautiful.
"Go back to sleep, Cas," Dean murmured as he pressed his cheek against the angel's. Castiel didn't need to be told because sleep was already tugging him back in.. Dean's lips ghosted against his skin, soft and warm as he drifted, with words to a song that Castiel had never heard before.
"Hey Jude, don't let me down. You have found her, now go and get her. Remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better."