Castiel's heartbeat hummed against Dean's fingertips. Gentle, steady. Castiel's chest rose and fell rhythmically in his sleep, two actions so foreign, but still so comforting. Sleeping meant healing; healing meant he would be okay.
Everyone would be okay. It was over. Against all odds, they won again.
No Amara, no Lucifer. They, and the world, were going to be okay.
Maybe now they could finally take that beach vacation.
Dean waited patiently for Cas to wake up. They had much to talk about, conversations years in the making. But Cas was alive. He was going to be okay.
Dean breathed.