5 Years Later
"I think Sam's getting sicker," Dean said as he closed the door behind him.
"Is he at least finally asleep?" Castiel asked.
Dean joined the angel on the couch that rested in the middle of their motel room. "Yeah, finally. But he wasn't feeling good." He sighed and shook his head. "He wasn't looking so good, either."
"I would cure him completely if I could."
"Yeah, I know, Cas. You've told me that already."
The nine-year old angel watched as his companion fiddled with the amulet around his neck. Dean noticed Castiel's eyes on him and sighed softly.
"Sam got it for me for Christmas," he said. "I forgot I didn't tell you."
"We didn't spend Christmas together."
Dean chuckled. "Right." He faced Castiel, seeing his flawless, pale skin practically glow in the dim lighting of the room, along with his blue eyes. They were quite bright, though they never showed any emotion. They just stared, as if trying to concentrate long enough to read someone's mind.
"Cas," Dean spoke, and Cas listened carefully, "Why don't you ever laugh, or smile?"
Cas tilted his head slightly. "I don't see the point."
Dean raised his eyebrows. "Are you serious?" But when Cas showed no sign of joking, Dean narrowed his eyes. "We're kids," he said. "Kids play. They laugh. They have fun. I know we're not like other kids, that we have our future pretty much planned out for us already-"
"Also considering that I'm not human," Cas added in.
"Okay, yeah. That doesn't mean we can't take a break and play some..." Dean looked around the messy motel room. His father usually kept it a mess when frantically searching for something, and Dean didn't bother cleaning up since John would just do it again.
His eyes spotted a baseball resting on the floor near the door. He pointed at it and Cas followed the direction his finger was aimed at.
"Some catch," Dean said. "Sometimes when Sam and I are at Bobby's, we play catch with him."
"Catch?" Cas looked at Dean with furrowed eyebrows.
"You just throw the ball back and forth at each other."
"Why?"
Dean thought about a moment, but he didn't really have an explanation. He shrugged and said, "For fun , I guess."
"I don't need fun."
"You don't need anything. You're like a robot."
Castiel turned away from Dean. "I apologize. I'm just following the rules."
Dean licked his lips. "In the five years since we've known each other, you never really explained to me the rules, the mission, or anything. I get that we're gonna fight in the apocalypse, but why me? What makes me so special? Why do I have to get sucked into this? Why can't I just be normal?"
"It's destiny, Dean," Cas explained to him. "You can't change destiny."
"But why does this have to be my destiny?" Dean asked, pointing to his chest.
"It's what's written."
"Where?!"
"Dean, I'm not in the mood for this."
"How do you even feel moods? You're a robot."
Castiel wanted to tell Dean about how angels were forbidden to feel, to express emotions. He was told over and over before he left Heaven how emotions only got in the way, made them weak, and Castiel was not weak. They are supposed to be able to leave their human the second they are finished without any harm, without missing them. The bond wasn't about building a relationship. It was about building trust, trust that they would have each other's back in battle.
But to tell Dean something so secretive was to show trustworthy, wasn't it? He had to start getting Dean to trust that he won't let him down. For the past five years, their conversations only consisted of small talk, a few walks here and there before the sun went down. Cas was always there, though. He followed the Winchesters around. He watched how desperately John tried to find the very demon who killed his wife and poisoned his youngest son with the Croatoan virus. He wanted payback and he wasn't stopping, though it was close to useless, considering the many demons that haunted the grounds of Earth. There was no telling which exact demon was the exact one who destroyed their family.
Cas was there to watch Sam grow older, but also sicker as the virus continued to, little-by-little, making its way through his body. Now the boy was six years old and even though he was weak, he still managed a lot. His only real issues was how the aches prevented him from receiving a full night sleep. The fever would reach high temperatures at times, too, and Dean would have to rush to cool it down. Doctors said the infection would be a slow process until it reached the point where Sam felt the need to kill, to become demonic. They gave Sam until the age of thirteen, if that, unless they, along with some of the angels' help, they could find a cure in time. That hope of finding a cure was what Dean held onto, that some miracle would be found and his little brother wouldn't have to suffer any longer, and he wouldn't have to worry about strangers killing him to avoid the murderous rage.
"Dean, you are my friend," Castiel suddenly spoke, and Dean looked over at him, his eyebrow raising slowly.
"I am?" Dean asked.
"Yes, and I am yours."
Dean smiled softly and Cas almost smiled back to see a genuine smile on the oldest Winchester brother's face. It was rare when those smiles appeared. Stuck in the mess that he was in, Dean could never really find a reason to smile.
"We should play catch," Cas said, and Dean's smile widened.
"Alright." Dean quickly got off the couch and grabbed the ball off the ground. He tossed it over at Cas, and the angel clumsily caught it.
"Not bad," Dean told him. "But that was a short distance. Bet you couldn't catch it if I was further away." He took a few steps back. "Alright, throw it back."
The angel looked at the ball in his hands before up at Dean and with all his force, he threw it. The ball went flinging straight for Dean's head, and the boy ducked. The ball bounced off the wall. Castiel gasped and rushed over.
"Are you alright?" He asked Dean. "I almost hurt you. I am sorry. I'm supposed to protect you, but instead, I could have caused harm to your face."
Dean looked up and at the wall to see a dent from where the ball bounced off. His smile returned as he faced Cas. "Whoa, Cas. That was awesome. You're stronger than you look!" Dean got up to his feet and Cas looked at what he did.
"Why are you praising me?" He asked. "I made a small hole in a wall that doesn't even belong to us."
"If you could do that with just a ball, I'm excited to see what you can do with other things. How are you with handling guns?" Dean walked over to the duffel bag in the corner of the room and pulled out one of his shotguns.
"My dad has taught me so much about aiming," Dean said, holding it to eye level.
"Careful with that," Cas warned. "Guns aren't exactly friends."
"I just wanna see what you got." He handed the gun over and Cas hesitantly grabbed it.
"If we're going to fight together," Dean began, "I wanna see how well you can use one of these."
"In here?" Castiel asked.
"Cas, we live in a world where evil is practically taking over, hearing a gunshot isn't exactly shocking."
Cas sighed and nodded. He held the gun up and aimed it towards the other wall. Dean stepped back and watched as Cas pulled the trigger. The bullet went straight to his target, an old, rusted painting near the door.
Dean clapped. "Seriously, not bad. I think we'll make a good team."
Castiel put the gun back where it belonged. "I do as well."
The two nine-year olds sat back down on the couch, listening to nothing but each other's soft breathing for a bit and the footsteps of others walking around outside.
"When do we start our training?" Dean asked, breaking the peaceful silence.
Cas looked down at the tacky magenta carpet. "When we are old enough," he answered.
"And how old is that?"
"Hunters usually begin when they are eighteen, but there is a chance you can be called in later than that."
"So I have until I'm eighteen to be a little bit normal?"
Castiel nodded, but he stopped a furrowed his eyebrows. "But Dean, being a hunter doesn't qualify you as anything different."
"Yeah, it does. It means I might die before I'm forty."
"You are doing this for the greater good."
"Still doesn't make up for the fact that I couldn't choose whether I wanted this or not. I was just born into it, right? Even if I said 'no', I'd still have to do it?"
"Rules are rules."
Dean jumped up from the couch. "Yeah, well why do we have to even listen to them, anyway? It's not fair. It's not fair that my mom died, it's not fair that my brother is slowly turning into a demon. It's not fair that I have to fight for something that probably won't even end with my help! Why did destiny pick me?"
"I don't have an answer for you," Castiel said.
Dean sat back down, taking a deep breath as he calmed himself. He knew not to complain, since it wouldn't do any good. He could whine on and on about it, but in the end, he would still grow up and still be thrown into training.
"Don't you ever wish you didn't have to do this?" Dean asked Cas.
"No. I am an Angel of the Lord. Angels are warriors of God, and warriors obey to what they are told."
"Okay," Dean said softly, looking down at Castiel's hand which rested on Castiel's lap as did the other. He reached over and grabbed it, giving it a gentle squeeze and Cas looked over to make eye contact with Dean.
"We'll be fine, right?" Dean asked. "Because I guess I am kinda worried." He breathed out a short laugh, but it did nothing to cover up the nerves clearly showing on his face as he swallowed hard.
Castiel looked down at their hands and squeezed it back. "We will be."
Dean nodded. "Thanks."
"Why are you thanking me?"
"For taking care of Sam and me."
"I will always protect you, Dean. Sam, too. I do promise to keep Sam healthy enough until they find a cure. I can keep him strong. That much I can do."
"I couldn't ask for more." Dean's bright smile reappeared on his face and Castiel wondered how anyone could resist not returning it, but Castiel did resist, because he had to.
It was the rules.
To not get attached, to not show how he was feeling inside, even though inside, he felt content. Content that he was paired up with Dean Winchester. He couldn't imagine to be with any other human. It wouldn't feel as right. Dean had a mysterious appeal to him, even for a kid. It was an appeal Cas knew Sam looked up to, and it warmed Castiel's stomach up to think about it. The Winchesters were close. They only really had each other, and Cas wanted to take care of them so dearly. He would find a way to help Sam, that was a definite.
In time, he would find that answer for them.
"Dean," Sam spoke, and Dean quickly turned around, smiling at his younger brother.
"How are you?" Dean asked, inching closer to the bed.
"Guess better than before," Sam said, sitting up. He sighed, running his tongue along his lower chapped lip. "Dean... this virus inside me, is it going to kill-"
"No!" Dean held his hands up. "No, Sammy, of course not."
"Then why does it make me so sick? I saw what it did to other people, Dean. They turn bad. If the virus doesn't kill me, people will."
Dean swallowed the lump in his throat. The thought of others coming after his brother, claiming him to be a monster, it caused Dean to shudder.
"No one's coming to kill you, Sam," he assured him. "Cas and I won't let them if they tried."
"Cas is your angel," Sam said. "What makes you think he'll protect me?"
The sound of wings flapping made the brothers look over.
"My mission is to protect Dean," Castiel said as he stepped closer to them. "But that doesn't mean I can't protect you as well. If I so wish to, I can, and I will, as I've already told Dean."
Dean nodded and faced his brother. "He won't let us down, Sammy. I actually am going to trust him." With those words, Castiel squinted his eyes, unsure if he should say something, but Dean continued, "I mean, I kind of have to." And Cas sighed.
"I'm going to be by his side during this battle," Dean said, shrugging, "And he hasn't given us a reason not to trust him, right? This is just how life is. A random amount of us are chosen ones and we get paired up with angels."
"Do you ever think about the war?" Sam asked. "Do you ever wonder what will happen?"
The older brother sighed through his nose as he turned to face the angel. He didn't want to seem fragile in front of Sam, but to lie about it, to say no and pretend that he was fine about risking his life for the human race, not just a country, but the entire world, was a tough one to act out.
"Yeah, I do think about it," he admitted. "But I try not to. There are more important things to think about right now. I still have time."
"I know you'll be a hero, Dean," Sam said, the corners of his lips rising.
"A hero?" Dean shook his head, chuckling a little. "I don't know about that."
"I do. You already are my hero." Sam reached out his hand and Dean grabbed it.
"I'll do this for you, then, Sammy," Dean told him. "When I'm out there, I'll think of you. I'll try to win so you can grow old, marry someone, and raise a family in a normal world."
"For you, too," Sam said. "I want that life for you, too. You deserve it."
"I'll get that life after you do." Dean smiled and patted Sam's hand before heading towards the door.
Castiel followed behind, though before he exited, he gave another glance at Sam and said, "Get some more sleep. It will be good for you, to earn your strength back."
Sam nodded and closed his eyes as he turned over on his side. There was something about the angel that he trusted as well, even though all he really knew about Cas was that he appeared on the night of the fire, and stayed by Dean's side ever since. Sam also knew that they were to be paired together to fight against demons, and the first time he was told that, he wanted to scream, to tell Cas to go away, and leave them alone, and he kind of did. He didn't like Castiel's presence from knowing why the angel was even there, to take Dean away someday, and that wasn't comforting to Sam. But as the years went on and Sam began to understand why this was important, he came to accept it more.
"Your father's home," Castiel said, and Dean turned around to face him, but he was gone.
"Cas?" Dean called, his eyebrows squeezing together, wondering why the angel had taken off.
John walked through the door, a look of exhaustion on his face as he rubbed it with his hands. Opening his eyes, he smiled faintly to see his oldest son.
"Dean, I have something to talk to you about," he said, walking over and sitting down on the couch. He patted the seat next to him and Dean sat down as well.
"What is it?" Dean asked.
"It's about the apocalypse, Dean," John said with a sigh. "I haven't really talked to you about it, about how I feel. I just want you to know, whatever happens, you did what you had to do, and I know you'll do your best."
"That's the plan."
John nodded and patted Dean's back. "And I'll be proud of you." He stood up, pausing as he looked down at his son. "I'm sorry you're dragged into this."
Dean only looked down at his feet as his father went ahead into the bedroom. John wasn't much for conversation, or pep talk for that matter, but Dean appreciated the effort. He looked up at the ceiling, clasped his hands together as he took a deep breath.
"Cas," he called out. "Come back."