The deep vibrations of the impala engulfed Sam in a steadying hum as he gripped the wheel, spanning the long stretch of road that extended out in front of them. Each mile marker blurred slightly as they blinked by, the sun glinting off the green signs then disappearing like the burst and extinction of tiny shooting stars. He looked into his rear-view mirror studying the angel and hunter passed out in the back seat, bodies smashed against the dark vinyl. They were both filthy and bloody, their clothes ripped and their faces smudged in dirt as if they could be the poster children for a refugee camp.
They survived, he thought, leaning back in awe. We all did.
Sam glanced back over his shoulder as a yellowed patch of light struck Dean and Cas's face making their skin glow. And he thought about how Dean hadn't even asked to drive. Instead, his older brother had silently climbed in the back seat with Cas as if it were the most natural place in the world for them to be. And Dean had circled the angel tightly with his arms, his face touched with a pure display of innocent thrill when Cas softly laid his head against his chest, Dean smiling at the act. Sam even thought he spied Dean sneak a kiss on top of Cas's head as if he didn't even want the angel to know he'd done it. Like it was a moment of secret adoration that he kept for himself. But, any physical and verbal affections were small and understated as the two men let the exhaustion of the last few days claim them. And Sam couldn't help but feel a sense of peace now as he looked at their sleeping, tangled forms breathing against each other like a final sanctuary. And he thought he'd never seen his brother so peaceful in all his life.
Sam smiled as he saw Dean breath in a small tuft of Cas's hair, the strands twitching against his face. Angel's aren't supposed to need sleep, he suddenly remembered. And yet, the sight of Cas's undefended, vulnerable facial features while he slept were calming, and Sam released the need to question it. Cas deserves some rest, he thought. And he glanced at Dean's tight hold on the angel, his arms protesting any space between them as if to unconsciously chain them together and hold Cas there forever.
You both deserve some rest.
The lights were dim when Cas finally felt his shoulder hitch a little as a hand nudged him gently awake. He blinked through heavy lids and it took him a moment to register the foreign heat of Dean's chest against his ear and the hunter's warm fingers locked between the spaces in his.
"We're here," Dean whispered, the air brushing the top of Cas's head as the hunter spoke. And it didn't take long for Cas to realize they'd probably been sitting in the parking garage for awhile now, Sam gone, Dean not wanting to wake Cas. And Cas could sense Dean's slow, steady heartbeat through his chest, and he pulled Dean closer to him. He listened to the even drum of it as they stilled.
And he felt bereft of it when Dean finally opened the car door with a creak, and both men made their way inside the bunker, hands clasped, bodies close, the walk slow and deliberate.
With unspoken unity, they walked to Dean's room, the hunter leading the angel through the door without turning on the light. And they stopped near the hunter's bed, facing each other like habit and familiarity.
And they had done this before, they remembered that now, but it still felt untested when they let they leaned in closer letting their foreheads connect, slowly pulling their bodies closer together in small, shuffling steps. And Cas's breath hitched in tiny waves when Dean wrapped a hand slowly around the back of his neck with an exploring touch, his fingers weaving through the short strands of hair he found there.
Then, the suspension of distance between them became tangible as Dean closed the gap painfully slowly. And excessive amounts of space and time wasted away until Cas finally felt the warmth of Dean's lips on his. It was a slow kiss as they memorized each other again, the entire display communicating a sense of stillness. Dean's hands were soft as they moved from the back of Cas's head to his neck and cheeks, roaming in light waves across the angel's skin. And Cas wrapped his hands around the hunter's back, feeling both the hard and soft lines of it through his shirt as he skimmed across the dip in Dean's lower spine and moved up to the cut of his shoulder blades. And deep down, Cas felt a part of him wish for time to expand and fill them up, holding them in this moment of peace and quiet: The hallowed space created when the two of them pulled away briefly from each kiss to whisper small "I love you's" in the dark. When they stripped away the barriers that had held them captive for so long. And finally, when they stopped, their foreheads still held together, eyes closed as if in supplication, it felt like both the ending and the beginning. And they let the world fall away from them, a part of Cas trying to convince himself of the fact that he'd finally grasped something real. Not a dream or a memory. Dean was here.
But the moment Cas knew, the moment he genuinely believed, wasn't when they kissed. It wasn't when Dean tethered them together like an anchor with his grip. And it wasn't the moment they opened their eyes, seeing clearly in the darkness they shared, creating light together.
Instead, the last string of illusion cut away softly from his mind, gently freeing him, when Cas finally let himself say it out loud:
"I'm home."
