Chapter 8

Castiel surged forward, taking hold of the young man attacking Dean and pulling him away. Once he was safely clear of his friend, the angel threw the assailant to the ground. He crouched down, letting his angel blade slip into his hand as he prepared to make him pay for hurting Dean.

But then there was a firm hand on his shoulder, tugging him backwards, and a familiar voice shouting in his ear.

"Cas, stop! Don't hurt him! It's okay, we were just wrestling."

Castiel paused, letting Dean's hurried words register. Just wrestling, Dean had said. Something humans did for sport. He looked down at the boy he still had pinned to the ground, realizing that he was just another teenager, and that his eyes were wide with terror. The angel could detect no malevolence toward Dean in his countenance.

Castiel abruptly released the boy, standing quickly. He turned to Dean, making sure that he truly was all right. His friend was staring at him, seeming to be torn between incredulity, annoyance, and amusement.

Eventually Castiel registered the silence that had fallen, and he realized he had dozens of sets of eyes on him. He had apparently interrupted the wrestling team's practice, and now everyone in the gymnasium was staring at him. Panicking, the angel shielded himself, vanishing from human sight.

Dean tossed his hands into the air, sighing with frustration.

"Oh nice, Cas, thanks," he grumbled. He turned to an older man who was apparently his coach, giving him some flimsy explanation about an overprotective cousin who had come to watch him practice. The man did not seem convinced, but as the person in question was nowhere to be seen, he could not exactly press the issue. Then Dean hurried outside of the building, and Castiel followed. He let go of his invisibility once they were alone.

"What the hell was that, Cas?" asked Dean heatedly as soon as he could see his angel.

"I thought that he was hurting you."

Dean sighed.

"It's just a sport, Cas. Besides, I totally would have won that round."

"I'm sorry for any inconvenience that I may have caused you," said Castiel, a bit of rare sarcasm leaking into his tone. "But landing in a new time and place is very disorienting, and the first thing that I saw was you being held against your will. My reaction was instinctive."

Dean's face softened. He sighed again.

"I get that you were trying to protect me," he said. "And thanks for that. But I'm fine, and I think you made Tom pee his pants."

"Why would he have urinated on himself?" asked Castiel in confusion, surmising that Tom was the boy he had attacked. Dean raised an eyebrow.

"You scared the crap out of him, Cas," he said, as if that should have been obvious. "The look on your face…hell, anyone would have been terrified."

"Well, I am sorry for alarming him," said Castiel, though he was honestly rather indifferent. He had not done the boy any actual harm. "But he was treating you very roughly."

"It's wrestling, Cas! It's supposed to be rough."

"I wasn't aware that you wrestled at all, outside of the sparring that you do with your father and brother."

Dean's face changed, closing off slightly.

"It's just something I'm trying out," he said. "And I'm not…I'm not hunting anymore."

He said the last words in a rush, as if he were afraid to let them out, but unable to contain them any longer.

"Oh." Castiel did not know what else to say. He had never heard about Dean taking a hiatus from hunting, and the older man he knew had been a hunter to the core. Did this have something to do with Castiel? Had he changed Dean's life so drastically that he had quit the lifestyle he was destined for?

Castiel examined Dean more closely. He looked to be about sixteen years of age. Perhaps this was during those mysterious two months that John and Sam had both mentioned, and Dean refused to talk much about.

"Do you think that's bad?" Dean asked, and he sounded younger than he usually did around this age.

"Not in itself, no," said Castiel. "Unless there's a bad reason that you stopped."

"Does getting caught stealing food count as a bad reason?"

Castiel decided that he was in desperate need of some context.

"What?" he asked.

Dean looked away, walking to a bench that was a few feet from them and sitting down.

"I messed up, Cas," he told his feet. "I lost the money that Dad left for us, and when I got caught trying to steal some food for Sammy, the cops took me in. They called Dad, and he, uh, he told them to just leave me in jail, but they took me to a boys home instead and I've been staying there for a few weeks."

Castiel did his very best not to show the fury that Dean's words had sparked in him, but he was fairly sure that the teenager could feel it through their bond, because he leaned away from the angel, curling in on himself slightly. Castiel tried to calm himself down, because the last thing Dean needed was to think that any of the rage was directed at him. Besides, Dean did not even know about their connection yet, and the surge of emotion was bound to confuse him.

But oh, how furious Castiel was. Not only had John Winchester failed to adequately provide for his children, he had forsaken Dean when he had tried to take care of his brother. The goodwill toward John that had been cultivated after Castiel's accident evaporated, leaving no evidence that it had ever been there.

Castiel sat beside Dean once he had gained a bit more control over his anger.

"Dean," he said slowly, clearly. "Have you been hurt in any way while you've been staying here?"

Because that was the important thing now. He would deal with John the next time he saw the man.

"What? No!" said Dean, finally looking up to meet the angel's eyes.

"Dean."

"Seriously, Cas, I'm fine," the teenager said earnestly. "It's actually…it's been nice here. I'm doing well."

Castiel studied him carefully for any signs that he was lying. Dean looked fine. He had none of the bruises that Castiel had occasionally seen on him after hunts, none of the shadows under his eyes that were the byproducts of exhaustion and haunted dreams. He seemed content.

That helped the angel to relax slightly, but he still needed some answers.

"Dean," he said again, and this time it was a request. Dean glanced down again.

"I thought I'd hate it," he admitted. "I planned on skipping out first chance I got. But the guy who runs the boys home, Sonny, is awesome. He took care of me, got me enrolled in a good school. He suggested that I try out for wrestling, and I love it. He's supportive of me having my own life, and I think…Cas, I think that's what I want. I think I want to stay out of hunting."

He looked up at Castiel again, a plea for understanding in his eyes. The angel did not know how to respond. If Dean was truly happy here, how could he tell him to go? But how could he encourage him to stay, knowing that it would only last two months? He did not know what was best for Dean.

"I think that choice is yours to make," he said eventually.

"So you don't think it's wrong for me to stop?"

"No." Impossible, but not wrong.

The relief in Dean's face was surprisingly painful. What could have driven him away from this new life of his?

Castiel suddenly recalled his conversation with John back in the motel room. The man had said that he tried to let Dean choose his own path, but that he could not, and Castiel had been too sensitive to press for more answers. He really should have demanded a better explanation. Though the memory did cause some of Castiel's rage towards John to abate slightly. Perhaps instead of abandoning his son, he had been trying to give him a chance. But if that were the case, he had still managed to go about it quite poorly.

Castiel gave Dean a reassuring smile, realizing that the teen had been worried about his approval. Even though this was destined to be a short period in his life, he deserved to enjoy it without fearing that he was disappointing his friend.

Dean smiled back, but then his expression changed abruptly and he stood, facing away from Castiel. The angel stood as well, concerned as he felt a surprisingly forceful turmoil bubble to the surface of Dean's soul.

"What's wrong?" he asked, resting a hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean stiffened under his touch, staring at the hand until Castiel removed it.

"I don't," he began, then shook his head. "I've been feeling…" he sighed in frustration. "I'm confused, Cas. You confuse me."

The angel blinked. He had not been expecting that.

"Um," he said, not quite sure how to respond. "I'm sorry?"

Dean chuckled, though it lacked much humor.

"You don't have to apologize, Cas," he said.

There was another long period of silence, in which Castiel simply stood there in utter consternation, with no idea of how to handle the situation, mostly because he did not know what the situation actually was. He was relieved when Dean finally spoke again.

"Do you think it's…I mean, is it wrong to…to like guys?"

"No," replied Castiel, more confused than ever. "Why would it be wrong for men to be friends with one another?"

Dean sighed, but his exasperation seemed to momentarily overpower whatever other difficulty he was having.

"That's not what I meant," he said. "I meant…I meant romantically."

Oh.

He had almost forgotten that the Dean he knew from the future had only ostensibly been interested in women. He had become so caught up in their budding and fragile romance that he had not stopped to consider the fact that it went against Dean's established sexuality. He should have known that this struggle would come up at some point.

He was not sure how to proceed. He did not want to take advantage of Dean, but he knew that the young man would be comfortable with his bisexuality in the future.

"No, Dean," he said gently. "I don't think it's wrong."

"But-" Dean finally turned to look at him again, and his confusion and worry were evident. "But you're an angel. You're holy. I mean, doesn't the Bible say-"

"The Bible was written by men, not God," Castiel interrupted firmly. "It is simply an interpretation of God's word. Besides…I don't think you should care what God thinks."

Dean stared at him.

"I guess I don't," he said. "But I thought you…I mean aren't you…don't you kind of have to care what He thinks?"

Castiel chuckled bitterly. Had Dean asked him that question a year ago, or several years in the future, really, he would have answered with an unequivocal yes. He had been created to serve God. It was his purpose, and he was good at it. But he had come to understand that God had abandoned His work. Castiel had still been searching for him when he had begun this mad trip into the past, but it had been more out of desperation than loyalty. With the apocalypse nigh, they had been running low on options, and Castiel had hoped that God was the answer. Bobby Singer and the Winchesters had thought his mission pointless, and perhaps they were right. Castiel was still not quite ready to give up on his father, but that did not mean that Dean deserved to punish himself based on what God may or may not have thought two thousand years ago.

"Not anymore," he answered Dean.

"You really think it's okay?" Dean asked hopefully.

"I think that your sexuality is entirely your business, and if you are comfortable with it, then no one else has the right to judge you for it. Including me. But for the record, I am utterly indifferent to sexual orientation."

Dean said nothing more, but Castiel could feel his relief.

A car horn beeped, and Castiel looked up to see a battered sedan idling at the curb. Dean gave the driver a small wave, then turned to Castiel.

"That's Sonny," he told the angel. "He's here to take me back to the house."

"Would you like me to come with you?" asked Castiel, unsure whether or not his presence was welcome as Dean was working through his thoughts and identity.

Dean hesitated.

"Yeah, but would you mind making a stop first?"

"Probably not."

Dean smiled at his somewhat dubious tone.

"It's nothing bad," he promised. "I was just hoping that you could check on Sammy. I haven't seen him since I came here, and I just want to make sure he's doing okay. He's never been on his own with Dad for this long before."

Castiel gave his friend a sad smile. Even content as the teenager was in this fleeting new life of his, he was still worried about his little brother.

"Of course," said Castiel.

He closed his eyes, though not before he saw Dean's look of grateful relief. The angel extended his senses, searching for Sam's familiar signature in the teeming horde of humanity that shared the planet with him.

"I found him," said Castiel after a few moments. "I'll be back momentarily."

He did not give Dean time to answer before he let his wings carry him towards the signal of Sam's soul. While the flight was taxing, it was not nearly as bad as the ones that involved travel through time as well as space, and he had considerably more control over his path.

When Castiel landed, he heard a muffled curse and the sound of a shotgun being cocked. Apparently Dean had been right to worry about Sam. Castiel let his angel blade slip into his hand, turning to face whoever had thought it was a good idea to take on a celestial being with a mere firearm.

Castiel relaxed when he recognized Robert Singer, the man who was essentially a second father to Dean and Sam. The hunter did not seem to share the angel's relief.

"You have six seconds to tell me who you are, what you are, and what you're doing here before I give you an extra set of holes," he growled.

"Uh, Castiel, Angel of the Lord, here to ascertain the condition of Sam Winchester," Castiel reported.

Bobby blinked in surprise, but he lowered the gun slightly.

"No kidding?" he asked.

"No. I would be happy to submit to a holy water test, if it would make you more comfortable." Castiel was not inclined to waste his energy on a display of his wings.

Bobby nodded, using one hand to pull a flask out of his pocket and tossing it to Castiel. The angel sipped its contents, and when he did not start screaming in pain, Bobby lowered his gun completely.

"I'll be damned," he said. "They really do have an angel looking out for them."

Castiel assumed that 'they' were the Winchesters, so he nodded. Bobby looked a bit uncertain of how to proceed, so Castiel did what Sam had done when they had first met. He extended a hand, which Bobby shook hesitantly, the hunter's grip growing firmer when he did not spontaneously combust from contact with a holy being.

"You said you were here about Sam?" Bobby asked once they had released each other's hands.

"Yes. Dean wanted to make sure that he was doing well."

"Oh yeah, he's fine," said Bobby. He jerked his head towards one of his windows. "He's playing out in the scrapyard. With the new puppy that he somehow convinced me to get."

The hunter shook his head, apparently still incredulous that Sam had managed to wheedle him into getting a dog. Castiel understood the feeling. He had firsthand experience with Sam's powers of persuasion, especially when he was young. But then the rest of what Castiel had said seemed to register for the hunter.

"Wait, you said Dean sent you?" he asked. Castiel nodded. "Is that boy all right? I swear, I just about punched John when he showed up with Sam and told me that he'd just left Dean behind."

Castiel understood that feeling as well.

"Dean is safe and content," he assured the hunter. "Just worried about his brother."

"Good. Well, like I said, Sam's outside if you wanna see him. And you be sure to tell Dean that I said hi when you see him again. Actually-" the hunter walked over to one of his cluttered bookshelves and pulled something down. "Would you give him this?"

Castiel took the object that Bobby handed to him, looking down at it. It appeared to just be a simple white sphere with red stitching.

"It's a baseball," Bobby explained. "We used to throw it around together when he came over. Lately he's been saying that he doesn't have the time for it, but if he's happy like you say, maybe he's got the time now. If not, well, maybe it'll remind him to give his old uncle a call every now and again."

Castiel smiled at Bobby. He'd only had a handful of interactions with the man, but it had not taken long to like him. Now Castiel was especially grateful for his presence in the boys' lives.

"I'll make sure he gets it," the angel promised. Bobby nodded, and with that, Castiel walked out into the scrapyard to check on Sam.

The boy was not far from the house, sitting in the dust under the shadow of a rusty car skeleton, his hands tangled in the black and brown fur of a large puppy. Castiel smiled, listening to Sam's peals of laughter as the dog licked his face. He decided not to disturb his friend. Instead, he went back inside to make sure that his living arrangements were suitable.

"Satisfied?" asked Bobby when he saw the angel.

"He looks well. How long has he been staying here?"

"'Bout a month. It's longer than usual, but I don't mind. He and his brother are always welcome. God knows those boys deserve some kind of stable home."

Castiel could not have agreed more. He took comfort in the knowledge that Bobby and his scrapyard would still be home to the Winchesters long into the future.

"Thank you for taking care of them," he told Bobby earnestly.

"Likewise," said Bobby with a gruff smile. "I've heard some stories about you. Sounds like you're their superhero."

"Yes, well, someone ought to be," said Castiel. "And since I'm the only creature with supernatural powers that takes an interest in their wellbeing, I was sort of the only candidate."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's it," said Bobby with a chuckle. "See you around, Castiel."

"Yes."

The angel took flight again, reappearing on the porch of a large farmhouse next to a very familiar teenager, who looked up at him expectantly.

Dean was satisfied with the news of his brother, and delighted by Bobby's gift of the baseball. He insisted that Castiel play catch with him, so he and the angel spent a few hours tossing the ball back and forth, stopping only when Dean was called into the house for dinner. The teenager bade his angel a cheerful goodbye. While the topic of sexuality had not come up again, Dean's buoyant spirits told Castiel that he had come to a comfortable place with himself.

As Castiel was preparing to leave, his wings prickled, and he felt the fleeting impression of an angelic grace that was not his. He froze, extending his senses, trying to pin down where the sensation was coming from. If there was another angel near Dean Winchester, Castiel wanted to know why. He did not trust his brothers and sisters to have good intentions toward the boy.

But though he was certain that he had felt an angelic presence, Castiel could not sense it anymore. Whoever it was had gone, perhaps because they realized that Castiel had detected them.

The angel looked around uneasily, hesitant to leave Dean on his own. But he knew that Dean would not be able to explain his presence to Sonny, and he did not want to complicate the boy's life further. He settled for drawing warding symbols on the walls of the house, using his powers to make them invisible to humans so that no one would wash them off. It would have to be enough.

Taking some comfort in the fact that he knew Dean would be safe and sound in a few months, when Castiel had his car accident; the angel took off at last.

ooooooooooooo

Castiel materialized with his nose inches from a row of iron bars. He blinked and took a few steps back.

"Are we in a jail cell?" he asked, peering at his surroundings.

He heard Dean grunt in surprise, and turned to see the hunter sitting up hastily from the thin mattress on which he had apparently been sleeping. Dean relaxed when he recognized the angel.

"'Fraid so," he said, rubbing his eyes. "Though it's really just a holding cell. Turns out the local cops don't take kindly to teenagers digging up graves in the middle of the night."

"I see," said Castiel, sitting on the bunk beside Dean. "And your father hasn't been able to get you out yet?"

Dean glanced away, suddenly looking uncomfortable.

"He, uh, may not be aware that I'm here," he muttered.

"Surely he grew worried when you didn't return from your salt and burn," said Castiel, confused. John Winchester may have been a poor parent, but he did about his sons and he would notice if they did not come back from a hunt. Although apparently he was content to leave his children in jail cells. Castiel tried to shake off some of the lingering bitterness.

"I'm sure he would have, if he actually knew about said salt and burn," said Dean, rubbing the back of his neck and not meeting the angel's eyes.

"You didn't tell him?" Castiel asked incredulously.

"He was two towns over, working another job," said Dean defensively. "I noticed signs of spirit activity, so I took matters into my own hands. I'm almost nineteen, Cas! I've helped with plenty of hunts before, and this was just a simple ghost."

Castiel sighed, knowing by now that it would be utterly pointless to tell Dean to be more careful.

"So what now?" he asked.

"I called Sammy, but he's only fourteen, and I'm not sure how much he can do. I don't suppose you could get me out of here?" asked Dean hopefully.

"Of course, but don't you think that would raise suspicions? The police would wonder how you escaped from their locked holding cell." Castiel would still do it if need be, of course, but he did try to make sure that Dean minimized his reckless activities. And the young hunter as not in immediate danger.

"Yeah, I guess," said Dean reluctantly. "That normally wouldn't be a big problem for us; we'd just leave town. But Sam has this school dance next week, and I don't want him to have to miss it. He actually got a girl to agree to go with him, and how many times is that opportunity going to come up again? Besides, I'll probably just get a fine for this."

"If you managed to avoid antagonizing your arresting officers," said Castiel, knowing of Dean's problem with authority figures. He sighed when Dean squirmed uncomfortably. "What did you say to them?"

"It wasn't that bad," said Dean defensively.

Castiel just shook his head, settling in to wait with Dean. He would stay until the teenager was out of his current predicament.

"You've already had the car accident, haven't you?" said Dean abruptly, after they had been sitting silently for several minutes.

"What?"

"That time you got hit by that reckless dickbag that didn't even bother to stop. You were laid up in bed for two days. That's happened for you, right?"

"Yes. Quite recently, actually. How did you know?"

Dean smiled, and he reached out to press his fingers to Castiel's hairline, just above his right ear.

"It gave you a tiny scar," he said. "It's from a piece of glass, or hitting the pavement, or something. I don't know why it didn't heal all the way like your other cuts, but it's how I can tell."

Castiel was not paying as much attention as usual to Dean's words. He was too distracted by the feeling of Dean's hand, which was still resting against his face. It was a novel sensation, and a pleasant one. Dean had touched him before, but this felt different, more intimate.

The angel hesitantly reached up his own hand to meet Dean's, and the hunter's smile widened, his eyes lighting up. Dean twined his fingers with Castiel's, and brought their joined hands to rest in his lap. He leaned into the angel's shoulder, and their combined soul and grace warmed at the proximity.

"You know, jail sucks a lot less when you're here," Dean said conversationally. That drew a soft chuckle from Castiel.

"I'm happy to be of service," he said.

"Well, in that case," said Dean, "I do have a request."

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

Castiel expected Dean to continue, but he suddenly seemed shy. The angel simply waited.

"You remember the last day you were with us after the car accident?" he asked eventually.

"Of course. I remember all of my time spent with you and Sam."

"Right. Well, you told us some stories, about heaven and your old life."

"Yes," said Castiel, suddenly understanding what his friend was getting at. "You'd like to hear some more?"

"Yeah, but…" Dean trailed off, looking torn.

"But?" Castiel prompted after a few moments of silence.

"You mostly just told us about the basic everyday stuff," said Dean. "And it was awesome and everything, but it just felt…watered down. Like you were holding the important stories back. And I get it; we were younger, you didn't want to freak us out. But I'm an adult now, Cas. I'm old enough, and I want…I want to know more about you. I know who you are, but I don't know who you were, not really. And that doesn't sit right with me anymore."

He looked down at their entwined hands as he spoke, and Castiel suspected that he was worried he was asking too much. The angel sighed, feeling torn himself. He did not fault Dean for asking; it was a perfectly reasonable request. After all, Castiel had been present in Dean's life from the beginning, whereas Castiel had lived millennia that Dean had been no part of. It was only fair that he attempt to right that balance.

"Okay," he said, and Dean looked up at him.

"Okay?" he repeated skeptically.

"What do you want to know? You would need a life sentence to hear my entire history, so is there anything in particular that you're curious about?"

Dean was thoughtful for a moment.

"What's the most important thing you've ever done?" he asked eventually. "In your opinion, not heaven's."

Castiel was silent. He had so many years worth of memories to choose from, and he had done so much with his life, but there was only one thing that stayed persistently at the forefront of his mind. But how to tell the story?

"Angels don't usually get involved in the affairs of mankind," he began eventually, and he could sense Dean's rapt attention. "In the last two thousand years, we were not even supposed to visit the earth. We were merely watchers, sentinels. I saw eras of human peace and prosperity, as well as those of war and chaos and suffering, but I never got involved without orders, and orders did not come. I would…cheat occasionally. I would come down to earth, but I would not take a vessel, would not interact with any humans. I simply wanted to get a closer look at the vitality of humanity.

"And so it went, for year after year. It got boring, to be honest." Dean snorted, and Castiel ignored him. "I was still a soldier, and I fought in the occasional battle, but for the most part, nothing happened, until early in the twenty-first century. That was when…cosmic wheels started turning, I suppose. Angelic and demonic plots alike were put into action, most of which I was entirely unaware. I did my duty, slew the demons that I was instructed to, and watched as chaos started gaining power. That was when I got my most important order, though I did not know it at the time. To me it was just another mission. There was a man that needed to be rescued from hell."

"Why?" Dean interrupted. "What was so special about him?"

Castiel hid his smile. Quite a bit was special about him, though he had not known that.

"He did not belong there," he said simply, though that had not been his reasoning at the time.

The angels had known that Dean could be the one to break the first seal, and they had wanted to stop it from happening. When that failed, they had known that they would need Dean in order to have any chance of stopping the apocalypse before it began. But it had become so much more than that, to Castiel at least.

"The righteous man, he was called," Castiel continued. "He did not deserve perdition, and he still had important work to do on earth. I was tasked with leading the squadron of angels that would break him out. Together we laid siege to hell, fighting our way through scores of demons intent on impeding our efforts. It was more difficult than any of us had expected…"

Castiel let his narrative drop for a moment, his memories of hell rising up in a surprisingly powerful tide. He could feel the scorching, corrosive heat burning into him, could see the tide of demons rising up around him and his comrades, ten new abominations appearing for each one they slew, their fighting scored by the endless cries of the damned. It had been impossibly draining, mortal combat in an environment designed to choke its inhabitants with misery and hopelessness. And as angel after angel had fallen to the onslaught of demons, Castiel had felt plenty of both.

"Cas?" Dean said gently, squeezing his hand, his face concerned. "It's fine if you don't want to talk about-"

"No," Castiel said quickly. "It's all right. I'm all right. It was just…a very difficult mission. I was the only angel to survive. We are stronger than demons, but there were only twelve of us, and there were simply too many of them."

"I'm sorry," said Dean. He must have seen the grief that Castiel still felt for the soldiers lost under his command. "But did you get the guy at least?"

That brought a small smile to Castiel's lips, though that memory was wrought with pain as well.

"Yes," he said. "I found him. He had been broken in ways that I had never seen, but…"

Castiel vividly remembered his first sight of Dean Winchester. He had seen the man's soul first, an agonized, corrupted thing that still held a brightness that was impossible to ignore. It had been twisted and shredded, but it was held together by an iron strength and will the likes of which the angel had never seen before. Castiel had been shocked by the realization that he found it beautiful. He had been so distracted by it that he had not realized at first what Dean was doing. And then he had been hit with a wave of disappointment and regret so powerful that it had stopped him cold for a moment.

Because the righteous man was not under a blade, he was wielding one. The angels had been too late. Castiel had been too late. The first seal had been broken, along with Dean Winchester's spirit.

But Castiel refused to believe that all was lost. He had come too far, fought too hard to turn back now. Besides, his orders had been to raise Dean, no matter what shape he was in. So the angel had approached Dean, placing his hand on the shoulder that was not quite corporeal, stopping him from digging his blade into his current victim again. Dean had frozen at his touch, and Castiel had been struck by the strength of the agony in his soul.

Dean had not struggled as the angel rested a hand on his forehead, easing the devastated man into a restful oblivion that he had not known for forty years. Then Castiel had tightened his grip on his new charge and finally let himself go, surging out of the pit of misery in which neither of them belonged.

"But not irreparably," Castiel continued, remembering that Dean was still listening to his story. "He was still extraordinary. I didn't realize just how extraordinary at first, but he had been placed in my charge, and I spent a great deal of time around him. I had never put effort into getting to know a human before, but I did with him and he taught me much. He taught me about humanity, more than I had ever learned in my thousands of years of watching. He taught me what things were worth fighting for. And I never ceased to be amazed by him. Saving him was the most important thing I have ever done."

Dean was silent for a moment.

"He sounds…great, Cas," he said eventually, though there was an odd undercurrent in his voice, as well as his soul. "I'm sorry that you haven't been able to get back to him."

"Don't be," said Castiel, realizing that perhaps the undercurrent had been bitterness towards someone that Dean thought the angel preferred to him. "I've been spending time with his equal."

Dean looked up at last, and now there was a faint smile on his lips.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Of course."

Castiel had not meant to make Dean jealous of his own future self. He leaned forward, pressing a hesitant kiss onto Dean's temple. The young man sighed contentedly, relaxing into the angel's side.

"So do Sammy and I ever get to meet this boy wonder?" he asked, and if his tone was a bit too casual, Castiel elected to ignore it. "You said you know us from the future, right? So we spend time with him too?"

"I believe you will get to know him very well," said Castiel.

"Yeah, well, he sounds like a prick."

Castiel hid his smile in Dean's hair.

"Only on occasion."

They waited together for a few more hours, sometimes talking about Dean and his family's travels and exploits, sometimes just leaning against each other in silence. Occasionally Castiel would tell Dean another personal story, though none of the same magnitude as the rescuing of the righteous man.

Eventually a police officer approached the holding cell, and Castiel quickly made himself invisible. The authorities would probably take exception to a random man appearing in one of their locked cells. The way that the cop glared down at Dean told Castiel that they had a history. It also made his feathers bristle angrily, and he wrapped a wing around Dean protectively, even though he knew that the man was no real threat.

"You're free to go," the officer told Dean, the words sounding like they were spoken around something sour.

"Yeah?" said Dean, standing and giving the cop one of his cheeky grins. "Did you find an actual criminal to put in here instead?"

"No, but it turns out you've got a little brother who could convince a butcher to go vegan. You're getting off with a fine this time. But if we catch you so much as putting a toe in another cemetery-"

"Let me guess; I'll feel the wrath of the Jasper County sheriff's department?" Dean interrupted. "I'm just quaking in my boots."

"Your boots were confiscated," the officer told him.

Castiel glanced down, amused to see that Dean's feet were indeed clad only in socks.

Dean opened his mouth, presumably to say something else ill advised, and Castiel gently dug his elbow into the young man's ribs, as he had seen Sam do when he wanted Dean to stop talking. It proved to be effective. Dean's mouth snapped closed again, but he did shoot a glare at Castiel. Due to the fact that he could not actually see the angel, he was really just glowering at the wall.

The surly officer led Dean through the police station and into the lobby, where Sam was waiting. The boy gave his older brother a relieved smile when he saw him, though there was disapproval in his eyes.

"Save me the speech, Sammy," said Dean, ruffling his brother's hair as they walked out of the building together after paying the fine.

"Dean, you should have at least told me where you were going," Sam said anyway. Dean ignored him.

"I wouldn't bother, Sam," said Castiel, returning to visibility once they were out of sight of the police station. "Dean has never been one to listen to caution."

"Cas!" said Sam with surprised pleasure. He stopped walking to give the angel a quick hug. "When did you get here?"

"A few hours ago."

"Yep. Cas has officially been in the slammer," said Dean.

"You're a bad influence, Dean," said Sam, though his tone was light.

"I didn't mind," said Castiel. Dean grinned at him.

"Yeah well, you should both be thanking me. You didn't exactly have many fans in that station. It took me half an hour to convince them to let you go."

"Half an hour?" Dean exclaimed. "Do you have any idea how long I was in there? What were you doing for the rest of that time?"

"Rescuing your precious car from where you stashed it at the cemetery. I didn't think you'd be too happy if the police found it before I did."

"You drove my car?"

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's indignation.

"Yes, Dean," he said impatiently. "And because I'm not incompetent, everything went fine. The impala is in one piece, and safe from the cops. I'm still waiting on that thank you."

Dean sighed, slinging an arm around Sam's shoulders.

"Thanks Sammy," he said with feigned solemnity. "You're my favorite little brother."

"I'm your only little brother."

Castiel hid his grimace. He had never met Adam Milligan in person, but he knew that the young man's death had not been pleasant, and it had haunted both of his older brothers.

"I should go," he said, once the black impala was in sight.

The Winchester boys stopped, disappointment shadowing both of their faces. That was the part Castiel hated most; the inevitable disappointment each time he left. But he had lingered too long already.

"Right. Okay, Cas," said Dean. He glanced over at Sam, then pulled the angel into a hug, squeezing him more tightly than usual. "Thank you," he whispered.

Castiel felt slightly guilty that Dean felt the need to thank him simply for being there. He returned the hug, treasuring the feeling of his chest pressed against Dean's, though he broke away when Sam started to look uncomfortable. He then pulled the younger Winchester into a hug of his own, though this one was briefer.

Then he stepped back, giving both boys a smile before he slipped back out of their plane of existence.

He reappeared in front of a small weather-beaten and worn house, just as Sam Winchester was walking out the door. Not much time could have passed since the incident at the police station, because the boy looked to be about the same age. He jumped when he saw the angel in the front yard, but then his face lit up with relief.

"Cas, thank god you're here," said Sam, grabbing the Castiel's arm. "We have a situation."