CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"Do you have to invite the spirits to appear, or do they come to you anyway?"

Dean fielded the class' questions well, and with greater comfort once the initial stilted challenges were out of the way. While it was clear that most of the class remained skeptical, the novelty of picking Dean's brain, and perhaps asking the more trivial questions that Castiel himself would not entertain, trumped academic integrity.

"They... uh... they appear whenever they want. There are times when I'm... more susceptible to them. Usually if a place is busy and people are... doin' their own thing, like, uh, a cafe or the movies, then it's hard for them to get through. They usually come when I'm alone, or just with one or two people. If I'm doing a public reading it's a little different, but... yeah."

Dean's eyes searched the sea of faces for another query.

"When did you first see spirits?"

Dean bit his lip and his gaze flickered to Castiel once. "I was, uh, twenty two."

"Why not earlier?"

Castiel turned to look at the student lodging the query – a red headed girl called Josie, who despite her abrupt tone seemed genuinely interested in the answer. Casting an eye to Dean, he tilted his head in a question, but Dean waved him off.

"Uh... I don't know. I mean... when I was a kid, I had dreams about stuff. But... twenty two was when I realized that there was somethin' goin' on. And I knew I wasn't just imagining it."

"How did you know that?"

"Uh..." Dean licked his lips and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "It was... this old lady who lived three doors down from me. She appeared at my window and started screaming about this cat ... hidin' under the shed. I just thought she was crazy so I went out and went to check and... there it was – collar was caught on this old nail. I pulled it out and... yeah, that's it."

He shuffled in front of the classroom.

"This is... well, I went and knocked on her door. And no one answered. Then someone came from next door and told me she'd died three days before. There was no way I could have known about that goddamned cat, and..."

He finished off, blushing lightly, and turned to take another question. His gaze flickered to Castiel's, as if absolving himself of the lie, but Castiel only brushed at his nose and kept his expression clear – it was hardly unexpected that Dean might wish to keep the details of his accident private.

"How do the spirits appear, when you talk to them? Do they speak like you and I?"

Dean shook his head quickly.

"Not usually... no. Most of the time they're silent. They'll show you things... like, uh, they'll get me pictures or..."

Dean blinked momentarily, and reached up with one hand to scratch the side of his neck.

"They talk, it's just... it's not always complete. I hear it, but not like I'd hear you, um..."

Dean's fingers continued to worry at that spot before trailing along to the front part of his neck and commencing a scratch there. There was a silence as his focus moved away from the questioning, and the students registered his shift in focus. Without addressing it further, he moved to start rubbing in more aggressive arcs around his neck, pressing his whole hand across it and wiping. Several times, he swallowed tightly, followed with a short breath and the sounds were wet – like he was holding down vomit.

Dean's eyes slid shut, and he started murmuring to himself.

"No, no. Ok, I get it. You don't need to..."

Meg looked to Castiel curiously, but he ignored her in favor of moving out from behind the desk and moving to Dean's side, where his free hand balled into a fist.

"Dean."

"Just... give me a second."

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and pursed his lips, breathing heavily. His face was quickly reddening – a blush from attention, for from stress, it was difficult to say – and his face began to shake.

The class shuffled behind him, as Castiel moved so that his back blocked their view. Before him, Dean inhaled heavily through his nose, in imitation of his meditation exercises, and let his breath rush out through his mouth. Castiel dropped a quick hand to his wrist to feel for a pulse, ignoring his class' interest. Dean's heartbeat was a little rushed, but even. There was no such strenuous effort that Castiel had concerns that another more significant episode was nearer.

Dean continued in his breathing, ignoring Castiel's touch, and slowly the color drained from his face. Even though his hand quivered slightly, his shoulders relaxed, and with one hand still twitching around his neck he slid his eyes open and met Castiel's.

"I've got it, Cas. It's alright."

Castiel stayed close, surveying Dean's face for a sign of bravado. Dean only shook his head, and breathed heavily again.

"Seriously, I'm fine. It's under control. It worked."

Castiel stepped away quickly, letting loose Dean's wrist, but he murmured lightly: "Are you prepared to continue?"

Dean nodded quickly and gave him a small smile.

"Of course. I... sorry about that. I'm fine."

Castiel opened his mouth to respond but Dean circumvented him by stepping aside and bringing himself back into the class' view.

"So... any further questions?"

There was a weighty silence, punctured only by the rush of several hands in the air. Castiel however, cut across them, turning to face the class. Their eyes were almost ravenous as they took in Dean's odd demeanor, though a few were surveying Castiel himself closely too, quizzical expressions on their faces.

"A reminder, Dean will not be conducting any readings today."

A few hands quickly dropped, but most remained up and Dean selected another. Despite Castiel having been about to raise his hand to stop him, Dean chose Christian who stood, smirking slightly, and inclined his head.

"What just happened there?"

"Huh?"

Dean blinked twice, before looking to Castiel uncertainly. He mouthed a quick: should I answer? Castiel glowered up at Christian but gave a curt nod. As Dean commenced speaking, he moved around behind him, leaning against the lectern and crossing his arms as he watched Christian twirl a pen between his fingers.

Dean was grimacing, hand raised to rub at his chin while he sought the right answer.

"Uh... well... someone didn't get the memo that I wasn't doin'... they tried to come forward."

"You're saying there are spirits in this room?"

Dean blinked again, before looking beside him and sending his eyes moving around the periphery of the room.

"Uh... yes."

"Why were you rubbing your neck?"

Castiel moved to step forward but Dean held up a hand. The look he gave to Castiel was a reassuring one, though it didn't stop the aggravation building in Castiel's own chest. Christian's tone was derisive, and despite whatever embarrassment he had felt in the previous seminar, he was clearly trying to compensate in a way designed not to improve himself in Castiel's own estimation, but at least in the eyes of the rest of the class.

"I... uh... I was tryin' to ignore it, 'cause I'm not doing readings today. But... he was really tryin' to get through. He was giving me a clue to give to someone in the audience, to show them that they were here."

"Sorry?"

Christian's cocked eyebrow made clear that Dean's words had been understood perfectly, but that he was merely enjoying the spectacle. Dean finally seemed to register Christian's rough tone and his eyes narrowed. Castiel felt his mouth twitch at the way Dean's chest puffed out in defiance at his obvious skepticism, and his voice grew a little stronger.

"A spirit was showing me how they died. Someone here knows them."

"Someone here?"

"Yes."

Christian leaned forward on the table, smile widening.

"You're not supposed to do any readings, and you tried to sneak one in anyway. Does it make you feel special, to be able to claim that?"

Castiel stepped across Dean before he could answer, and he put a hand on Dean's shoulder to silence him.

"Christian, please take your seat."

"Professor-"

"Given your previous performance in your seminar paper, you are one of the students I thought might benefit particularly from this session. If you want any chance of making up your grade I suggest you sit, listen and drop your attitude."

Behind him, Dean snorted lightly, and Castiel let his hand drop from Dean's shoulder. With an arched eyebrow, he watched the rest of the class.

"This is an information gathering exercise, not an interrogation. Dean is here on his own time and I expect you all to respect the opportunity he is providing you."

There were a few titters and shuffles, but a number of students raised their hands for further questioning. Dean pointed to another, and nodded encouragingly as a pretty girl, with a confident yet kind expression stood up to ask her question:

"Based on what we just saw, I wonder if I'd be right in saying that your encounters with the spirits are quite... draining."

Dean, relieved by her more professional tone, nodded quickly.

"Uh... yeah... sorry, what's your name?"

"Amelia."

"Ah, yes Amelia. They are. When everyone wants a piece of you... there's not a lot of space for me to live... normally."

She nodded and looked to Castiel: "Can I follow up?"

Castiel watched her momentarily before nodding. "Yes."

She grinned and looked back to Dean.

"Given that, if you could say, flip the off switch and stop them appearing, would you do that?"

Dean paused before he gave his answer, dropping his gaze to the floor and running his hand along his chin. He sighed around the answer when he gave it, raising a gaze suddenly weary back to her: "I... I think so."

"You're not sure?"

There was no indignance in her tone, only genuine curiosity, and so Castiel let the questions continue.

"I..." Dean stopped, and looked back to Castiel once. "Yes, I would. There are days when I bring... when I help people. I help them say goodbye or move past things. Or even have faith that there's something wider but..."

He shrugged, rubbing at his chin. "I mean, if I thought it was best then I'd probably, I'd keep doing it. I don't know what else I would do if I weren't because it's been so long."

Dropping his hand, he met Amelia's gaze evenly. "But the spirits, they're not always kind and so often they're hurt and even if they don't mean to cause harm... I think a lot of time they do. I think people like to have faith that there's something better waiting for them than this but the spirits don't really promise you that."

Amelia nodded curtly and gave Dean a quick smile. "Thanks for your answer, Dean. I appreciate it."

"Oh, uh, no problem."

Dean seemed surprised as Amelia leaned back in her chair and continued to watch him with interest, but not skepticism. There were a few interested murmurs in the classroom and a few more hands raised.

Dean continued well for the rest of the lesson. The questions were respectful, intelligent, and by the end of the session a few students were staring transfixed at Dean. When Castiel stood to end the session, and asked the class to thank Dean for his time, he was met with a decent applause, and while the class were quick to leave, many took the time to watch Dean as they went and he heard a few murmurs of interest in the subject matter.

Meg slid up to them both afterwards, hands in her jeans.

"That went well."

Castiel nodded and pulled his notes together, while Dean – now immensely relieved, it seemed – grinned at Meg's praise.

"You spoke very well, Dean. I think they were intrigued."

Dean's smile grew at Castiel's words, and he leaned a little closer, joking: "That kid Christian didn't seem to think so."

"Christian was trying to save face from his abysmal seminar previously."

"Well, you sure told him where to go."

Dean threw a proud look in Castiel's direction and Castiel breathed out a laugh, before looking up and catching Meg's gaze, which was flickering between them carefully.

"Yes, well-"

Castiel was relieved at the buzz of his phone in the pocket of his trenchcoat, given the way the cogs in Meg's head were clearly ticking, and he extracted hurriedly – raising a hand to excuse himself when he saw Amelia's name on the screen.

He opened his mouth to answer the call, but Amelia, clearly sensing the end of the ring tone, cried out before he had the chance to greet her.

"James!"

"Amy? What is it? You're upset?"

"Oh shit."

There were a few shuffles on the other end of the line. Castiel turned to see Meg watching him with a worried expression, and Dean stepped forward – hand outstretched.

"Amy?"

There were a few more muffles before the phone was brought back to Amelia's mouth.

"James, I'm getting contractions."

"What?"

"Mm."

It was unclear whether the small moan Amelia gave on the end of the line was a marker of pain or surprise, but either way Castiel raised his hand to his mouth.

"You're not due for-"

"I know that! But, oh Jesus, the contractions are coming now."

Castiel paced across the floor to his lectern, hurriedly grabbing at his papers while holding the phone to his ear by tilting his head towards his shoulder.

"Are you on your way to the hospital?"

"N-no. I'm at home. Can you take me?"

"How close together are they?"

She huffed out a breath on the other side of the line and gave a light, labored sounding laugh.

"Fifteen minutes apart. There's no point calling an ambulance, but I need... hngh... James my parents aren't due here for a week. I phoned them and they're driving down now, but-"

"I'll come get you right now. Is everything normal?"

"Yeah... yeah. I'm good. But hurry up. They're already killing me."

"Of course, I'm leaving the University now."

He hung up the phone as he slung his satchel over his shoulder. Dean was already on hand to pass him his coat, wide-eyed.

"Dean, I'm sorry, I need-"

"I'll sort myself out, don't worry. Tell her good luck from me."

Castiel was positive he wouldn't, but the sentiment was kind, and Dean was relieved when he thanked him with a small smile.

"I'll take you home, Dean-o. And I'll sort your lectures, Cas. I'll cover if Sarah can't."

Dean's shoulders relaxed with gratefulness.

"Are you sure, Meg? You have classes-"

"It's no problem. Clarence, you get going. We'll sort it out."

Castiel nodded and moved quickly towards the door. He stopped as he pushed it open, and turned back to Dean who was grinning: "You'll be alright? You can call me-"

"Get goin', Cas. I'm fine."

Meg's eyes slid between them once, an eyebrow arching. Castiel had no times to consider her attention though, in his hurry to rush down the hallway. He kept Amelia on speaker during the speedy ride to his home, and when he arrived at his home, she had already assembled a hasty overnight bag. Castiel threw a few more supplies together, before supporting her to the car. She was already sweating and grimacing with the discomfort.

As they drove, she fumbled for his hand across the handbrake, and he held her fingers tight.

"You're almost there, Amy. You can do this."

...

The labor was surprisingly quick, at least, compared to Castiel's memory of Claire's birth. From start to finish it was eight hours. Castiel spent a large part of that fielding worried calls from Amelia's parents. They didn't bother to question his presence, and if anything, Amelia's mother seemed relieved that he was there. They hadn't spoken since Claire's funeral – understandably – but it was a relief to hear the familiarity of her voice.

Even though it had been an act they'd practiced with Claire, Castiel was nervous as he hung by Amelia's bedside while she was repeatedly measured, tested and watched over. The speed of the birth was being made up for my difficulties with her age, and her body was clearly exhausted by the process.

Amelia was quick to take the epidural, which she had refused with Claire, and as its effects kicked in she leaned back in the hospital bed, clutching tightly at Castiel's hand and grimacing around features purple with the strain.

"Thank you, James. Thank you for being here."

Castiel squeezed her fingers back without hesitation or doubt, and turned to meet the doctor as she returned for another check up.

Dean sent several texts throughout the duration, all of which Castiel checked when he had the opportunity – taking a bathroom break, or going to get a water bottle from the canteen.

Hp evrythng goin well. Meg gt me hme ok.

Tell Amy im cheerin 4 her.

U prob cnt reply, bt chckn evrythn ok. Lt me no if u nd nethn.

When the doctors pronounced Amy sufficiently dilated, and moved to position her on the edge of the bed –squatting and clutching the handrails, Castiel hovered awkwardly by the door, unsure if his support could extend to the birth of Amy's child. When she saw his uncertainty however, her face turned tearful and she reached out a shaking hand.

"Please stay James."

He was quick to cross the room and grab hold of one of her hands as her body was wracked with a contraction and she let out a hoarse cry. Castiel followed the doctors' instructions and helped hold her gown up, holding her hand tight as the doctors instructed her to push.

As it had been before, the moment was utterly horrendous. Amy's bowels couldn't handle the pain, letting loose, and her howls were murderous as they screeched through the room. Castiel swore he could hear the sound of her bones creaking to allow the child through, and the tearing of skin. There was a strong stench of blood in the air, mixed with other unnamable bodily fluids. And Amelia was sweating and purple, her hair hanging in loose tendrils across her forehead.

"Fuck! Fuck!"

She didn't hold back as her body performed what ought to have been impossible, and forced out an infant child.

"He's a boy."

The nurse pronounced proudly, giving them a moment to glance at the silent infant before moving him to a table and setting to work on his chest to dislodge the traces of uterine fluid. It felt like only milliseconds before the nurse turned and nodded to reassure them that he was breathing, and Amelia sagged forward onto the bed in relief. Where her hand was clutched tight around Castiel's, he could feel the frantic pulse of her heart as it bore the remains of the labor.

The placenta was easy and quick, and over in the few minutes it took them to quickly wash and check her child over. When she was done, Amelia's knees almost gave way and Castiel didn't even spare a glance for the child as he bore Amelia's weight and helped to move her back to the hospital bed. A few nurses moved to plump her pillows and helped pull her hair back from her face. Amelia shut her eyes for a moment, and exhaled slowly, breathing out in relief: "I did it. He's here."

"You did so well."

From across the room, he heard a nurse announce proudly: "APGAR 9".

"Sir, would you like to cut the cord?"

A nurse touched Castiel's arm and indicated towards the heating pad where the baby was writhing, already howling with a full voice. Castiel shot a quick glance to Amy who was blinking blearily, as a doctor checked her over.

"Amy?"

"Hmmm?"

The nurse tugged on Castiel's arm.

"We're cutting him now, sir."

Amelia seemed blissed out in the sudden wave of relief that accompanied the loss of the body stretching her from the inside out. More out of shock at reliving the birth of Claire again, Castiel followed the nurse as she pulled him toward the station and passed a pair of oddly shaped scissors to Castiel. The doctor placed two clamps on the cord and pushed Castiel forward: "Just in the middle – you want to cut right there."

Castiel stared down that the child before him – white at his core, and blue in his hands and feet, covered in a white kind of paste. A nurse stood above him, already rubbing at his arms and legs, pushing off the muck and pressing color into his skin.

Another held out the cord for him and angled the scissors towards the tube. As his fingers trembled with the shock of it, the nurse pressed her hand over his and squeezed down lightly.

"It won't hurt him, don't worry. It's clamped."

Castiel gasped as the scissors bit down into the flesh of the cord. It cut through simply, and as the rest fell away, a small burst of blood gathered at the end of the stump. A nurse quickly raised a sheet to it and blotted it away, and then Castiel was kindly nudged backwards as they moved to wipe at the child with blankets. One nurse pulled at his limbs, and Castiel, tearing slightly, turned to find Amelia watching him.

"How is he?"

"He's wonderful."

A few monitors were placed on the baby as he wriggled, eyes wide and darting around him, and his fingers clutched around the fingers of the nurse nearest him.

"Oh he's interested in the light, good boy."

"No lacerations."

Castiel stepped backwards to allow the staff their space as they worked, quickly testing the baby for any signs of difficulty. Amelia was almost zoned out back on her bed, though her head was inclined towards the area where the doctors were checking him.

"We're ok to bring him over, Amy."

Amy blinked as a nurse moved to pull up her hospital gown to make room on her stomach, and Castiel stepped back as they brought the baby over to rest on her skin. His cries quieted as she cooed at him, hands reaching immediately to cradle around his blanketed form.

The nurses worked while she cradled him. Footprinting, eye ointment, another APGAR test, a nappy and tags for his wrist and ankle. His eyes opened while Amelia held him in her arms and fixed immediately on her face.

With Claire, Castiel had frozen at that moment, watching the suspended gaze between her and Amelia with utter adoration. He had never loved Amelia more as he'd seen how she'd caught and held upon her daughter, and had scarcely had the strength to move but to look at her with awe.

It was different, seeing Amelia with her baby boy. It struck Castiel in a different way. Amelia was beautiful, as she had been before. Face exhausted and dropping, and smile straining through it. But the boy was what caught him – with wide blue eyes indescribably alert for such a young infant, and long lanky limbs for a newborn.

"He's going to be a tall one."

A nurse nudged Castiel's shoulder as she brushed past him with a syringe, to give the boy an injection.

"Does he have a name?"

"No. Not yet." Amelia murmured, fingers moving to stroke down her little boy's face. "Mummy wanted to meet you first. Right baby? Right baby boy?"

Castiel hovered at the edge, transfixed by his gaze but unwilling to intrude, already doubting whether Amelia would approve of his presence. She gave her thanks though without even looking at him, dropping a kiss to her child's forehead and murmuring: "Look over baby. That's your Godfather. Godfather Castiel. He helped you get here, so you could get to me. Oh my precious baby."

...

They took the baby away for further monitoring after he had fed for the first time. And Amelia, despite her exhaustion (and hunger, she moaned once, as they wheeled him away) stayed viciously awake for the duration of their separation. Castiel was reluctant to leave her for long, knowing her parents were due within the hour and expecting they could take over watch then. It was a relief when they arrived, panting at the door, and with hugs they teared up at the news that Amelia had successfully delivered a healthy boy.

Amelia recognized the sound of her parents' footsteps in the hall before they appeared at the door, and she held out her arms to them as they appeared in the ward, grinning widely even though her entire face drooped with exhaustion.

"Oh darling, you did so well!"

Amelia was quick to hold up her phone, showing them the pictures that Castiel had taken at her bequest as her son took his first meal, and cooing over his wrinkled, soft features.

"He's so alert, isn't he James? The doctors said so."

"He was very bright-eyed." Castiel reflected fondly, and Amelia's father seemed fit to burst with joy.

"Will he be back soon?"

"Another half hour, maybe", he answered.

Amelia's father reached out and shook his hand firmly. "Thank you, for being here with her."

"Of course." '

The family converged on one another as they gurgled over the pictures and Castiel – thirsty and hungry – took the opportunity to sidle out of the room. Despite his own exhaustion and dry mouth, his first task was to respond to Dean's three new text messages, and the multitudes more from Meg.

Dean picked up before the first ring was over, and his voice was high and worried.

"Cas, is she ok? Is baby ok?"

"They're fine. He's a boy. A lovely boy."

"Oh!" There was the sound of a thump on the other end of the line and Dean's curse as he fumbled, and a moment later his voice returned, sounding urgent. "Cas, you there?"

"Yes, I'm here."

"Sorry, I-" Dean burst into a spontaneous peal of laughter, "I dropped my phone… I'm so happy for you."

Castiel grinned into the phone, bringing his hand to wipe at a tired forehead, and smiling so hard he could feel his lips peel back over gums.

"Dean. Oh Dean, he's so beautiful."

There was such a measure of fondness in Castiel's own voice, that in any other case he might have properly detected. But, even if Amelia's baby were not his own, he felt a haze of chemicals through his body as though he had been – delirious joy and relief. Amelia and baby were well.

Dean paused on the end of the line and his breath hitched once. Castiel heard his swallow, and then mumbled response.

"I... you staying with Amy? Tonight?"

Castiel leaned against the doorframe and sighed, throwing his head back and exhaling.

"I... I don't know. Her parents are here now. When she's had a chance to rest, I can discuss it with her."

"Ok. That's cool. Do you need dinner? I can bring you dinner?"

Castiel shook his head pointlessly, knowing Dean could not see into the phone. "I'm fine for now. I'll find something to eat here, and I'll update you as soon as I can."

"No hurry, Cas." Dean's words were soft into the receiver, and Castiel imagined his expression might have gone glassy. "Don't worry about me."

Castiel didn't know how to say that he did, anyway. Despite what he had just seen. His beautiful ex-wife lay just down the corridor, with a magnificent baby in her hands, and he had stood by her side as she forced him into life. She would go to his home, and the baby would be there, and she trusted him enough to call Castiel his Godfather.

And the first person he went to was Dean.

...

Amelia was asleep again when he returned to her room, and her baby was lying in a container at its edge.

"She did well," Amy's mother - Lucretia - murmured to him as he entered the room and went to the side of the plastic frame. "Perfectly healthy. Such a lovely boy."

"Has she come up with a name?"

Lucretia nodded softly.

"Robert. She's calling him Robert."

Robert's cheeks were puffy and his nose was barely an upturned flick on his swollen face. His face was pink and beautiful, and his darling hands were curled around themselves, so that his tiny fingernails brushed against his palms.

"That's lovely."

Castiel kept his hands on the rim of the container, even as Amy's mother easily slid her hands inside the cot to trace at his fingers.

"I should go," he murmured lightly. Lucretia looked to him softly, and though her face was contented, there was a twist of confusion at her brow.

"Go?"

"I'll leave Amelia some time with him. This... this wasn't how she intended things. I can phone tomorrow morning."

Lucretia pursed her lips but didn't answer, and nodded as he moved away from the cot, taking his coat from a chair at the edge of the room. Amelia's father watched him too, as he left, although there was no major farewell. No doubt they expected he would return the next morning. They were right, of course. He intended to.

The drive to Dean's felt prolonged. Castiel thrummed the entire way – disbelief, nerves, incredulity. Children had that effect, he supposed. Even when they were not his own – they were a new mark on the universe. And such a pure and sweet touch – there were none that could fail to be elated by it.

The streetlights, dim as they were, felt festive – like Christmas lights – and they danced across his windows as he beat out a happy tune on his steering wheel. All of it, a gift.

Dean's lights were still on as he pulled into the drive, and Dean – despite a lack of assurance that Castiel would appear – was waiting up. He hadn't even changed from his daytime clothes as he opened the door, though his t-shirt's sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and his hair showed signs of the long day, and likely his nervous wait at home. It was tufted – standing up at the roots and sticking outwards in messy bunches from the repetitions of constant worrying fingers.

"Hey Cas, didn't expect to see you so-"

His breath was forced out of him as Castiel stepped forward, a feeling of welling behind his eyeballs and in his throat, even though there were no tears there. He let his arms drop around Dean's shoulders and pulled him close, forcing the air out of Dean's lungs, which was made worse by Dean's sound of surprise as he tumbled back slightly through the doorframe. He was quick to reciprocate though, with arms winding around Castiel's waist and tightening, one moving up between his shoulder blades and palms splaying.

"You ok?"

"I'm wonderful," Castiel answered, muffled at Dean's shoulder. He breathed out a happy sigh into the fabric and reveled at the feeling of his own warmth echoing back at him. "God, Dean. Thank you."

Dean laughed into Castiel's hair, unbothered by the duration of their embrace, or its sudden start. "Not sure what about, but you're welcome."

Castiel felt drunk on it all – the thrum of his heart within his ribs and in his sweating palms and in his feet that felt so light he could not detect the ground below him. "Dean, he was so beautiful."

"Baby boy? Is he handsome one?"

"He looks just like her."

Dean grinned against Castiel. Castiel could feel it in the spread of his chest.

"That's great. Sounds like his dad's a right a-hole. Who'd want to look like him?"

Castiel squeezed Dean's shoulder at his joke. His voice dropped as he answered, even though there was still light anticipation in it. He felt Dean sense the change, tightening his hold slightly around Castiel.

"I couldn't have managed being there for it if it hadn't been for you."

Dean shook his head, rubbing lightly at Castiel's back. "I know I'm awesome, but I'm pretty sure I had absolutely nothing to do with this one."

"You did." Castiel's hands found purchase in Dean's shirt and he pulled. "With Claire."

He breathed out a happy gasp into Dean's shoulder before moving away slightly, raising his head so his eyes met Dean's.

"That boy was born and... I'd been so sure that I would crumble with everything from missing her. The moment I found out Amy was pregnant... I was angry. I hated that baby."

A happy tear descended down his cheek as his mouth twisted between a grimace and a smile.

"I felt like... even though I knew it was wrong, it was an insult to my girl. But-"

He hiccupped lightly and felt Dean's hand raise to his cheek to wipe lightly at his eyes. He only laughed brightly, breathing out across Dean's face and watching his eyes flicker with the feeling.

"Dean, I felt her in the room when that baby was there, and I could let her go. You helped me let her go. And I... I love that baby. I love-"

With a gasp, he leaned his forehead against Dean's and took a staggering breath. Dean's thumb froze in its path on Castiel's cheek and his breath left him in a short gasp, lips parting with the effort of staying still against Castiel's hold.

"Cas-"

"Dean, you did this. All of this for me. I can't... I can't thank you. I-"

Dean shook his head lightly, forehead still tight against Castiel's own and the tip of his nose brushing his lightly. He moved his hand, with a few stutters, down from Castiel's face, holding it just beyond him in the empty air.

"I don't expect anything."

"Of course you don't." Castiel's chin tilted forward slightly, so that their noses bumped again. He gasped, and this time, Dean mimicked the action, and Castiel felt his heart thud heavily at his chest. He slid closer, arms moving around Dean's back and pressing him around so that he was propped up by the wall behind him. Their eyes were fixed on one another, and Dean's eyelids were fluttering, growing heavier with each breath he tried to draw in evenly.

With a wet sound, Castiel's lips parted, around a silent declaration, that had Dean's hands twitching against him.

"Dean, I-"

"Cas." Dean pulled his face away with a shuddering breath, but didn't move away, dropping his face into Castiel's shoulder – lips at his trenchcoat and gasping. "Cas, are you saying that-"

"Yes. Whatever you want, I'm..."

Dean let out a low note against Castiel's shoulder and twisted his neck slightly so that the tip of his nose ran across the skin of Castiel's neck. Castiel felt himself twitch as his neck automatically fell to the side to give Dean purchase for however he chose to go. Dean only breathed out a sigh against the skin though, and spoke through gritted teeth.

"Look… you're all caught up in baby haze. I... I can't go here with you just yet?"

He leaned closer, and bit the words out against Castiel's neck.

"Tomorrow morning, ok? We can talk?"

Castiel gulped as he felt his body release a pulse of energy through his core. It ran up his spine, forcing it to constrict momentarily, and Dean growled as the force momentarily brought Castiel's skin in contact with his lips. Slowly, he pulled away, breathing in short gasps, trailing his nose back across Castiel's cheek.

Eyes shut, he murmured tightly. "To-tomorrow. You need to sleep now."

Castiel nodded and pursed his lips as Dean slowly pushed him away, keeping his hand on the side of Castiel's neck until Castiel was more than an arm's length across from him in the corridor. With a sigh, and a set jaw, Dean turned and lead the way up the stairs to his bedroom. Castiel followed silently, pulling off his trenchcoat and loosening his tie. Dean pulled off his shirt and dropped his jeans in bedroom, and slid into his bed without replacing them – clad only in his boxer briefs.

Castiel, briefly contemplated doing the same, but Dean kept himself turned away and concentrated tightly on controlling his breathing. Recognizing that he would only create difficulty for himself if he followed suit, Castiel slid on a night shirt and pajama pants, before following. He mimicked Dean's posture in bed – turning to face the wall, uncertain if Dean would be prepared to let him close.

However as soon as he was settled, Dean rolled, and slid tight up to Castiel – unabashedly pressing the line of his entire body up against Castiel's back and trailing a hand to from the top of his chest, down to his waist – settling at a point above Castiel's belly button and seeking out his hand to entwine their fingers.

Even though his body was pounding for more, it was enough to put Castiel's mind at rest – Dean's light breathing and familiar scent in his ear. He fell asleep still trembling from the proximity of it and the force of the declaration he had made in the hallway. And one thought, twisting through strands of the previous day in his dreams – Amelia, the baby, the class. It was Dean, his white grin pulling at freckled cheeks and dancing eyes. Dean, that had awarded him every happiness. Dean, the blessing in disguise.