The angel sighed happily as Dean snuggled against his back, his arms wound around the slender figure and the hunter's nose caressing the soft skin of his neck with small motions of his head. They were lying in the backseat of the Impala, only covered up with Castiel's trench coat. Sometimes the two of them needed these post-sex cuddles, even though neither of them would admit it.

After a few minutes of silence and fondling, Castiel could feel a disturbance in Dean's movements behind him and he frowned. "What is it?"

"I don't know," Dean answered, "but I think you just lost a feather."

The lover opened his eyes and looked over his shoulders to examine the little greyish-white feather Dean was holding between his thumb and index finger, confusion on his face. Unexpectedly he had this strange feeling in his stomach as if it wasn't right that the feather had removed itself from his wings. His gaze moved to Dean who was looking at it in awe as he rotated the feather slowly between his fingers.

Castiel wasn't dumb; he knew what spells somebody could do with an angel's feather. He also knew the Winchester's family story. And he was aware of the reason John Winchester's father left and never returned to his son again. This whole history was meant to be, and Cas knew it. But what if he could–

"You can keep it, if you want," Castiel whispered and Dean faced his angel, surprised.

"Really?"

"Yes," Castiel turned away from him again, looking at the dark back rest of the seat in front of him. "It could be useful someday. Maybe it could change everything. Maybe even destiny."

Dean stared at him, trying to understand but decided to postpone this whole thinking. "Thanks, Cas," he muttered.

The angel just smiled to himself, sadly.

Perhaps this little feather could change Dean's life to a happier one.