Time Has Brought Your Heart To Me
The first time that Castiel had experienced feelings towards one Dean Winchester was their very first meeting in hell.
Before then the hunter was no more than a fervent whisper which hung on the lips of angels who had been commissioned by Michael himself to rescue the man from hell. At that point, no questions had been raised towards Michael intentions for the man, for whom he had raised an army with the sole intention of his rescue. To Castiel and the other soldiers however, it was not a matter of whom they were rescuing from the cess pit that Alistair and his demons occupied- it was the honour of being chosen to fight alongside the great archangel, to be under Michael's and therefore God's direct order, even to one of the masses which would storm the gates of hell at the warriors side.
It soon became clear as to why there was a mass of angels called up for the task, for it became more a suicide mission rather than the honour rescue that the angels were expecting. Many a time Castiel felt the scrape of claws along his arm, threatening to pierce the celestial being that it contained- only to be saved by a quick reaction from the unnamed angel fighting alongside him at that moment in time. Even more often he would see the same angel perish mere moments later as his own inferior reactions failed to return the favour.
In the 3 mere months it took to pierce the 7 levels of hell the last of which contained Dean Winchester this rota continued to turn, another nameless angel took their place, ultimately erupting in a brilliant white light as claws, teeth, spikes or even a stolen angel blade tore their grace from them, leaving their body crumpled on the floor and the shadow of wings burnt into the red hot ground. Despite their cries for their fearless leader and promises that Michael was coming, he remained soundly absent, hearing and ignoring them as they were slaughtered in a battle that wasn't even their own to fight.
And yet, amongst the bloodshed, Castiel's own grace continued to shine brightly as he finally broke through the final demon, that final layer that allowed him one Thursday to ultimately grip the man and pull him back into living. The cage in which they had kept the former Hunter was nothing more than a dingy mess, blood splatter from both the man and the monster that entered it dripping down the walls and decorating the instruments of torture that hung on them. Somewhere in the darkness, another tortured soul was crying for respite but the angel merely continued to walk towards the humped figure on the centre.
Angel blade still dripping with demons blood brandished in hand and with the battle raging outside, Castiel finally placed a hand on the shoulder of the figure, causing tired and hurt green eyes to flash up to meet the brilliant blue of his vessel, before the worn soul had crumpled into the angels arms. The blade slipped away to the floor as Castiel seized every inch of his power, gripped the man by the arm, searing his mark into him, and pulled him through the levels of hell and back into the world the hunter had once inhabited.
At that moment, Dean Winchester's body became whole once more, despite his soul being splintered into a million pieces, each scar and bloody wound from battles past burning bright white as they healed under the angels grasp. His soul and body met somewhere between the Earth and Hell in the dingy plot in which Sam and Bobby has buried him in, Castiel fleeing from the scene before real green eyes could meet his own. Little did he know how much those green eyes would alter the destiny of the world and his own.
Since that first initial meeting in hell, above and including the first time they'd met in physical form, a thousand different people had commented or even thought about the relationship that the two men shared. Sometimes it was little more than a slight nod in his direction from a passing angel, the overzealous thought of a homosexual man, or even the slight pang of jealousy from a woman who had been appreciating either the angel or the hunter. But, a question had plagued the angels' continually troubled mind, ever since their meeting.
What were they?
Colleagues seemed to be the answer that Sam had preferred when Castiel had infiltrated his dreams. It seemed to be that despite feelings of friendship or familial to go as far as brotherly love that the younger Winchester felt for him; Sam often found himself jealous of the levels of intimacy that the angel and hunter's relationship were increasingly experiencing. Of course, being the more sensitive and intelligent of the Winchesters Sam would quickly shake away such feelings, but often during Dean and Castiel's closer exchanges, eyes, faces and mouths inches away from one another, Castiel would feel the sin of jealousy radiating thick and green in the air towards him. Simply Castiel would pass his eyes from the older Winchester and flicker them over towards Sam, the blue clear and promising. 'He does not love you any less.' And yet, despite reassurance admitting to the pair as partners seemed to far a step for Sam.
Bobby held no qualms about calling out Castiel and Dean's partnership, despite sometimes reflecting Sam's feelings jealous feelings towards the angel, however they dissipated quicker and more permanently than the younger brother upon seeing the good that the angel had inflicted upon Dean- changing and moulding him into a better person. He also senses the way that Castiel lights up when Dean enters the room, his grace glistening through his eyes, making him shine just that little brighter than he was before and allowing the slightest of smiles to grace his lips for mere moments. Upon reflection on the man that had died mere months before Castiel often wonders whether Bobby knew that Castiel loved the Hunter before he did.
The brotherly jealousy that continually chipped away at Sam never seemed to faze Balthazar and Gabriel the two of them far from subtle in their teasing over the relationship the angel and his hunter shared. Quick quips about Castiel being in love with Dean was never far from their lips in life, and after their deaths the angels graces found nestled within Castiel's mind- whispering to him from the darkness, muttering to one another under their breath with audible eye rolls as Dean's eyes seeked Castiel's out, and the three angels in one vessel felt a borrowed heart's beats quicken and hands that didn't belong to them become slick with sweat. Inside his cracked and broken mind they remained, the whispering jibes replaced with whispers of encouragement; coaxing him back into himself without avail, until the day they stopped talking to him all together.
And sometimes, often without meaning to Castiel would find himself looking into the bright green eyes that had transfixed him from the first moment he had looked upon them, searching within Dean's mind for the answer to the question that he believed had been part of what broke his mind. Now sitting in the dingy gloom of their cave in purgatory, Castiel willed the words he wanted to express to come to his lips, to ask the man with those emerald green eyes illuminated in the firelight.
'Can a lion ever love a lamb without the lamb being eaten?' his voice sounded hoarse, the language unfamiliar on his tongue after his hours of muttering of Enochian warding spells. Immediately the words didn't sound correct and the furrow that appeared on the hunters face confirmed this.
'Eh? Cas, had Meg been talking about that Sundown or whatever the crappy thing's before we ended up down here? 'the man all but growled, his own throat hoarse from lack of water. Cas sharply shook his head, pressing a hand to his head, forcing his words to come out how he sounded them in his mind.
'No, what I meant to say is, do we confirm as our relationship expects us to be or are we, what are we.' He said slowly but surely. The frown deepened on both their faces.
'Well at the moment I'd hesitate a guess as cave-mates.' Dean spat. Cas tilted his head, making the hunters heart beat quicker remembering the other moments in their time together that Cas had echoed that precise action.
'No, I mean. Are we that of brothers in arms or do we – can we- apologise- flowers and-...' the angel babbled, trailing off his own brain made no sense of the words that spilled from his lips. He screamed in frustration and punched a wall, leaving a dent in the solid rock before collapsing into a crouched position.
'My words- my brain- I don't work anymore Dean.' He muttered, the words finally speaking true as he spoke before his brain could formulate them. Dean sighed, getting to his feet and taking the two small steps which brought him into line with the angel's cramped form. He slid down the wall, sitting next to the former God, placing a comforting hand on the angel's knee.
'It's ok Cas. I- I wasn't angry at you. I'm scared, I'm in purgatory with creatures which I can't kill, most of which I put here myself. That- wasn't anger that was fear. I- I apologize.' He said, moving his hand to rest in the angels hair awkwardly, soothing the now shaking angel with soft circular motions.
Castiel's eyes lifted, the first tears Dean had ever seen in them glistening like tiny pearls in a blue sea. As their eyes met Dean immediately knew the question Castiel had been trying to ask, all his doubts, fears and questions poured into his eyes through those tears and in that gaze he transferred every single feeling to Dean.
His heart caught in his throat, as every memory that he had of Castiel flashed into his mind seeing himself through the angel's eyes. Every small quip that he'd made, the subtle winks, the smiles- so many smiles and more than that every time he'd simply raised his eyes to meet Castiel's own. Through Castiel's visage he felt his breath hitch in his throat and his blood thunder in his veins, his pulse quickening and flying through him like an electric current. Through the years they both flew, hands coming to meet between their two bodies as a stream of memories flew through them.
Dean knocking away the Sorry! board. Having his trench coat handed back to him. Castiel's voice screaming his as he knocked against the cage that the Leviathans had put him in, making him watches as they used his body to fling Dean into the wall. Dean, Dean, Dean, every moment they had ever shared. And back into hell, watching the Angel fight, nearly die on a couple of cases to free him and finally, he watched his own body crumpling against Cas who; bloodied and bruised and little more than a physical embodiment of his grace took the last of his energy and raised him from the depts.. 'I've been getting too close to the humans in my charge- you.'
With those final words the bond broke and the two men found themselves staring back into each other each other's eyes, seeing no more than one another. Castiel's hands were warm in his, his wings smaller from his limited grace erupting in brilliant black-blue plumage from his back.
'Dean.' He said simply, trying to disentwine his soft fingers from the hunters calloused ones; a blush rising in his cheeks in obvious embarrassment. Dean's hand moved back to the angels head, pulling him closer so his lips met with his own. The kiss was short and chaste, merely a brush of lips against another, the softest of any either had experienced.
Dean was the one to pull away, a soft smile gracing his face.
'Love you too Cas'. He whispered.