Disclaimer: Absolutely not mine. If mine, then even more canon.

A/N: Just wanted to write some trenchcoat musings. There was so much Destiel interaction during 7x17 that there wasn't enough time for any of it. Maybe someday I'll write a fanfic about a Cas who doesn't remember Dean within hours of meeting each other...


Dawning

To Castiel, earthly possessions mean about as little as you'd expect from a being that has been around for millennia and which had spent most of that time outside of a human vessel. He's never grown particularly fond of the clothing Jimmy Novak wore when Castiel was allowed to take over his body. He does remember, though, how proud, how solemn the man had been when he had put on the clothes Castiel would walk around in for an unforeseeable length of time.

The trench coat the man chose distinguished Castiel's general appearance from the more usual simple black suit attire most vessels had, but apart from that, he'd never much bothered caring about it.

But when he's standing there after burning demons out of their shells and himself back into his consciousness, it takes on a different meaning. Obviously in the face of Dean, whom he had betrayed in the worst possible way and whose words "Just remember you did the best you could at the time" still rang in his ears, the last thing he thought about was that Jimmy's clothing had been lost when Emmanuel had awoken.

And then Dean opens the trunk of whatever model of car he was currently driving and he pulls out a messed up bundle of originally tan colouring and he touches that trench coat, unsalvageable from all the taint Castiel had brought upon himself, keeps it save in his hands like a sacred thing.

Castiel knows that humans grow sentimental over material things. They imagine they need certain good luck charms in order to get through their days successfully, a special cup, made from the same fabric as every other thing in his Father's creation, a pin, a set of clothes. He's never thought that silly, though he hasn't understood it; just one more fascinating quirk in the workings of those shining souls.

But Dean is very close to crying and he has carried this broken piece of clothing around with him, transferring it from car to car, keeping it save, keeping it close, and when he tells Castiel that he always knew he'd come back, Castiel knows he is lying. Hope, maybe. Dean Winchester, the man he pulled out of hell broken and torn apart and tearing apart and wrecked, Dean has always astounded Castiel with his almost ridiculous appreciation of the little things and the never ending hope for something, someone other than himself.

He didn't think Castiel would return, though. It's all there, in that look that hurts Castiel in a way he didn't know before meeting Dean. There is hurt, there is accusation, there is grief and it is so obvious even to him, who has never been able to read humans well. And there's also wonder, there is hope.

There is faith, some bitter fraction of it, and he feels that most of all, even as his vessel's fingers find the familiar fabric.

It is the belief that maybe, after everything, they are friends still.

When Castiel finally wraps his vessel into that trench coat again, it feels heavy for the first time. He will not let lose it again.

He is ready to redeem himself to Dean now.