Sing thee O Holy Angel By: PhoenisJustice
Disclaimer: Supernatural is owned by Eric Kripke; I only own this story and make no profit from this. Warning: Rated T for language, slashyness, etc. Pairings/Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel, Dean/Castiel Setting: Sometime during Season 4, with spoilers up to S4. Summary: He didn't realize what was happening; they had been around each other for so long, he had thought it was him just getting used to the angel.
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He didn't realize what was happening; they had been around each other for so long, he had thought it was him just getting used to the angel. He was more than used to said angel appearing in his dreams, usually to warn him about something.
Sometimes they talked.
And damn but he hadn't laughed so hard in a long time since returning from Hell. Well, hell, maybe even before that. He didn't think about that though, he didn't realize how much things were changing, how much he was changing. It felt odd to him in the times when the angel wasn't around, glad that he had his phone as a life-line in which to reach him.
Sam was a bit quieter around him lately, but as they were still trying to mend a lot of issues between them, he could accept that, even if he didn't entirely understand the reason behind it.
He leaves Sam at Bobby's where the two start to research up on a sanitarium which appeared to be haunted by several malevolent spirits, so they were trying to find out the history behind it. He, meanwhile, felt the pressing need for fresh air, feeling stifled surrounded by all the books and the like, so he took the Impala out with no real destination in mind.
The car drives smoothly in the darkness, the light of the moon and his headlights the only source of light around as he drove onwards. He passes into a forest-y area, the trees clustered together with a small lake in the distance. He pulls the Impala up near the lake, a set of picnic tables were to the right, slamming the door closed behind him. He gazes at the darkened lake, the moonlight reflecting brightly off of it.
"You look troubled."
He whips his head around and sees Castiel standing near him, gazing at the lake before turning to look at him.
"I'm fine," he says shortly. He turns back to the lake, hearing Castiel approach him.
"You do not need to lie to me to make me better, Dean." Castiel replies, approaching and settling next to Dean's left shoulder. He turns to Dean. "Or yourself."
Dean shakes his head. "It's just...nevermind. It's nothing important."
"It is." Castiel insists. "If it were not important, it would not be bothering you so much. But...I will not push any further if you do not wish to speak. I don't want to hurt you-I only wish to ease some of the pain and burden you bear."
Dean stares at him. He meant it. The angel meant every damn word he said. Didn't he...didn't he know that dudes-angel's or not-didn't speak that way to each other? But to hear someone, anyone, trying to help him, ease his pain-even if it was an impossible task to do-touched him in ways he couldn't even say.
But at the same time he felt...a bit awkward around Castiel. The angel was so upfront about everything and could easily "put him back in" (in being Hell) if he so desired and there wouldn't be a thing Dean could do about it. It had strained their relationship for awhile; Dean was, if anything, a wary man. Life on the road and the things he saw left him with little faith left.
It was hard to believe in a God, any God, when so much shit happened in the world to good people who didn't deserve it. His family included. His mother, his father, even his brother-who he loved more than anything else; everyone had got a shitty deal and it didn't set right with him. But he had started to regain some of that lost faith when Castiel first arrived-lights bursting, shots useless, the knife useless.
He had been stunned when the man had told him just who and what he was. He couldn't believe it. After all the time he had been around, after all the time OTHER hunters had been around. There hadn't been ANY concrete proof on angels. They were just a legend, a myth! They certainly couldn't be real...then Castiel showed up and turned Dean's world down on its head.
The angel had quickly become an ally of his and he learned to trust him-something that didn't come easy to him. But when he trusted someone, he would be there for them in a heartbeat if they needed it. Sam, Bobby, Ellen and Jo...and now Castiel. He had become someone important in Dean Winchester's world and his heart sank thinking about when Castiel's time would be up and he would leave.
Certainly, after the things he had done, he wouldn't ever reach Heaven-if it existed-and see the angel again. So obviously he had to take his time now and enjoy it, enjoy the ANGEL, to the fullest. He had quickly become a necessary thing in Dean's world and he was loathe to give it up.
"Dean?" Castiel asks quietly, patiently.
Dean looks at him with haunted eyes. How could he even THINK something like that? It was...it was WRONG. Not because he was a guy and Castiel was a guy...well at least while he was in his Vessel (Dean wasn't really sure if Angels on their own could be catigorized as certain genders as humans knew it.) Castiel was an angel. And Dean was...the furthest from that.
He had done things that still gave him nightmares, just as many nightmares as of the times where he had been tortured mercilessly. He was Tainted-worse than any Demon blood that Sam might have-and he couldn't let his Taint touch such purity. He couldn't.
"Is something the matter...?" Castiel asks again, reaching a hand to touch Dean's shoulder.
He flinches and moves away before Castiel can touch him.
"Don't...just don't." he says, jaw clenched. "I'm..." He swallows hard. "Dirty. Wrong. You don't need to touch me."
"But I already have." the angel says calmly, walking forward. Dean flinches again but doesn't move away this time. The eldest Winchester freezes as Castiel rolls up the sleeve on Dean's shirt, baring the searing handprint left on Dean's body by Castiel when he gripped him tight and raised him from perdition. His hand hovers near the handprint but doesn't touch it; he looks down at it then at Dean. "I have known you deeper than anyone on Earth, Heaven OR Hell. I saw your soul, Dean. And you know what else I saw?"
Speechless, Dean shakes his head.
"A good man. A righteous man. A man who gave his all in everything he did and helped more people than almost anyone I've ever seen. You don't get paid to do what you do, neither of you do, yet you continue to do so because it is the right thing, yes, but also because you feel an obligation to. Dean, you are no more Tainted than I. You cannot hold yourself accountable for what happened in the Pit; you are a good man and I have never regretted my decision to pull you out of there. I would fight through there a thousand times if I must to be able to reach you."
Tears fall down unnoticed down Dean's face. Castiel gently grabs his face and he gasps as the angel's hands touch his skin. He looks deep into the Hunter's face.
"You are a good man, Dean Winchester." Castiel repeats, eyes never looking away from his. "You are worthy, more than worthy, of any love you wish. You have but to ask for it."
Dean's eyes widen. It was more than possible that the angel had overheard his thoughts, even if by accident-he had been projecting loud enough in his head that Castiel wouldn't have had to bother trying to read his thoughts if he wanted to. His eyes close. It sounded like what he thought it did, but...he was afraid.
Afraid of putting everything on the line once more and losing it all over again. He had lost his brother twice-once when Sam died and once when HE died-and he couldn't handle that again. He couldn't handle loving someone so completely just to lose them. Not again. A low keening sound comes out of his throat, tears splashing onto the wet ground. He wanted, oh God how he wanted.
"Cass." he says hoarsely.
"Yes, Dean." Castiel says softly, a small shy smile on his face. "I've just been waiting for you to ask."
Dean leans in, kissing him, and he knew peace.
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