Dean woke up gasping in darkness. Something wrapped around him triggered his flight response; he thrashed wildly to get free.
A lamp on the bedside table clicked on-a large tanned hand landed on his chest, stilling him. Dean barely had time to take in his surroundings in the warm light (soft bed in a studio loft; trapped in a burgundy blanket) before a mussy-haired, bleary-eyed Cas rolled into view. "Dean," he said, voice wrecked from sleep and concern. "Dean, it's okay. It's just a nightmare-"
"...Cas?" Dean stopped struggling and yanked Cas into a bear hug. "Oh, God, Cas-" He burrowed his nose into Cas's neck, arms wrapped around him so tight it would take the Jaws of Life to pry him off.
"You were gone," Dean said, his voice cracking, unable to stop tears from spilling. "You were taken."
Rubbing soothing little circles onto Dean's shirtless back, Cas murmured, "Was it the Lilith memory again?"
Dean stiffened slightly. "Memory?"
"Gabriel saved me, remember?"
No, he didn't; he couldn't remember anything but the agony of Cas being ripped out of him.
"Dean," Cas leaned back, cupping his cheek with a palm, wiping away a tear with his thumb. "I'm here, and everyone made it. We stopped Lilith." His blue eyes were sincere.
"I...don't remember," Dean admitted softly. He bit his lip while trying to jog his memory of anything after the fight. Nothing came to mind, but Cas was in front of him, holding him.
Desperately wanting, no, needing to believe the sleepy, bed-headed Cas before him, Dean let out an elated whoop. He pumped his fist and tackled Cas into another hug. "We did it? Cas, we did it!"
The excitement was seemingly too much, cause Dean leaned away from him and coughed hard into his hand a few times. His chest rattled with phlegm. "Man, am I seriously coming down with something?" Dean complained.
Cas touched his forehead, but with the back of his hand, not with two fingers. "You feel clammy," he reported, but he smirked slightly. "A Winchester bested by the common cold-how the mighty have fallen," Cas teased. Dean swatted at him halfheartedly.
He sighed with relief; everything was okay.
Soul-rending pain ripped right through him, enough to steal his breath.
Cas was shaking his shoulder and holding out a cup of coffee. Blinking hard, Dean took the drink, sitting against the headboard of their bed. Wearing nothing but a pair of too-thin-to-be-legal sweatpants, Cas curled up next to him.
"Thanks, sweetheart," Dean said and cheekily added, "You're an angel!"
That earned him an unimpressed eyebrow, and Dean melted. Clearly, that joke had worn out its welcome; he would use it forever.
"So, I believe this calls for a day in," Cas said decidedly. "You need to rest."
"Can't you just, you know...do your thing?"
Cas's frown deepened. "I guess you did forget. To be saved, I had to give up my powers-I'm human, Dean."
Dean was torn. On the one hand, having Cas lose his powers was pretty crappy. But on the other hand...Cas was human?
The thought lit him up like a Christmas tree. They could eat together? Sleep together? Dean could hold Cas's hand in public, and people would be jealous at how cute they were together, how hot Cas was? He was actually looking forward to beating people off with a stick.
Without warning, another round of coughing doubled Dean over, unable to catch a breath. Cas leaned in close, hand on his back. "Dean?"
Clearing his sore throat made it worse, but Dean huffed through the discomfort. "Yeah, I'm alright. Staying in sounds good." Dean turned his body and hacked wetly into his hand. He groaned at the sight of bright red against his palm. No. No, no, no-
He frantically wiped his hand on the edge of the blanket before Cas saw anything.
"Dean, what's wrong?"
"Nothing a movie marathon with my favorite angel won't kick," Dean whispered with a forced grin.
A chuckle from behind him as Cas slipped out of bed."I better be your only angel," he playfully groused, helping Dean to his feet. "Come on. Couch. I'll make some tea for you."
Dean found a movie marathon on the SciFi channel. They cuddled on the couch, both in sweats and threadbare band shirts. While making sure Dean kept hydrated with some orange juice, Cas cheerfully tore into a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. "This makes me very happy," Cas told him seriously around a mouthful, a tiny plate balanced on his knees.
"Yeah, I can see that," Dean breathed, staring because Cas was eating. He felt like a creep but couldn't bring himself to stop. Needing a distraction, he reviewed the movie lineup and clapped his hands. "Oh shit, Cas! Terminator 2! That's a classic." Dean paused as he read the rest of the title. "Extended edition? New scenes? Oh man, this can only be good-you wanna watch?"
"Of course, Dean."
Throughout the movie, Dean explained the differences from the theatrical version he'd watched to the one they were viewing now. Some deleted scenes were just fun. Arnold's T-101 getting his chip reprogrammed on purpose to learn emotions filled in some plot holes Dean had always wondered about. After explaining to Cas how he just started learning them on his own in the original, Cas adamantly believed that was the better story. Eventually, they set their discussion aside, too caught up in the climactic battle between the Terminators at the metal plant. They held each other's hand as the last scene played of that infamous thumbs-up. If they shed a tear over it, it was nobody's business but theirs.
Wanting to lighten the mood, Dean began fondly reminiscing about his time as a PA on Hell Razer's 2, where the ghosts on set had been real. "There was so much food! Everywhere! For free, Cas!"
Cas, legs curled up under himself, listened to his info dump with the fondest little grin. Dean basked in it like a lizard in the sun.
As the day went on, Dean didn't mention that his memories weren't coming back. The coughing fits were getting stronger, though. Every time he had one, his vision would blackout for a second-
Anna, paler than a ghost. "I can't do much more," she said quietly, voice straining with pain. "Sam, he's-"
-and he was on his back along the couch. The first Matrix movie droned on in the background, Cas on top of him, their legs tangled together, comfortably domestic.
Despite being a fan of the movie, Dean was entirely distracted as he ran his fingers through Cas's mop of hair. Every breath he had to control. Otherwise, he'd start choking again. So, he inhaled as shallowly as possible, refusing to disturb Cas's nap. He would've rather passed out from the lack of oxygen than disrupt those little raspy snores.
As he carded through the soft, thick, messy locks, Dean had the idle realization that his silver ring had migrated hands. It sat on his left ring finger, glinting against Cas's dark hair.
A hard, wracking cough shook his whole body. Black flashed across his vision-
Sam, bloodied and beaten, staring down at him, eyes red-rimmed. "Come on, Dean, don't-"
-but when he was over the fit, Cas was awake. His lips were pursed as he leaned forward, eyes darting over Dean's face. "Dean, what's-?"
Dean pushed Cas back to where he was lying before. "I'll be fine, sweetheart; go back to sleep," he rasped, throat sore and painful.
"You sound awful, Dean," Cas said, a little too guiltily for his liking. He turned into Dean's chest. "I wish I could heal you."
"Doing things the human way ain't always so bad," Dean murmured. The heat in their tiny studio must have kicked on or something; he could feel sweat beading on his forehead, trickling down his neck. He cleared his throat, regretting it immediately when the pain got worse. Still, he insisted, "It was the only way to save you, right? I'll happily get sick a thousand times to keep you."
Cas raised an eyebrow. "I might not be able to heal you, but I can certainly distract you…." There was a heat in his eyes as his voice dropped.
Dean grinned ruefully. "Sorry, gonna need a raincheck, sweetheart," he said while essentially holding his breath.
"Wow, you really are under the weather," Cas said. He pressed his hand against Dean's forehead and frowned. "You're feverish. I'll make some soup for you. Don't move."
Cas carefully crawled off of him and headed into the small galley kitchen. Dean watched, mesmerized by the sight of Cas going through the motions of warming up some soup for him. He pulled a shiny saucepan from a cabinet, grabbed a can of chicken noodle from a stocked pantry. Dean felt like a little kid once again, under his mom's watchful eye, safe and protected.
A polite cough echoed around the apartment.
Dean saw Gabriel casually perched on the top of their tiny kitchen table. He glanced around before meeting Dean's startled gaze.
"Well, isn't this just the definition of domesticity," Gabriel said, feet kicking in the air. "Can't believe there's such a softie under all those layers of flannel and hypermasculinity."
"Cas, I think I'm hallucinating," Dean called out, wiping away the sweat on his forehead while his body was overtaken with shivering. "Fuck," he groaned, screwing his eyes shut.
"Yeah, I'm not a figment of your imagination, Deano. Flattered, though."
Dean coughed hard enough to rattle his bones, but Gabriel was still there when he opened his eyes. When he noticed Cas hadn't paid Gabriel any mind, Dean's heart sank to his toes.
Swallowing the bile burning his throat, Dean, with great effort, rolled off the couch. Slowly on his socked feet, he padded over to the archangel.
Their tiny studio was clean and spartan: a king-size bed took in one corner, the small galley kitchen the other. The living room had a couch and TV. A vinyl record player sat on a wooden side table. There were some books, but for the most part, it was just the bare necessities.
Dean watched Cas for a long, painful moment. He reached out and grabbed the back of one of the two kitchen chairs to steady himself. Dean's voice faltered, not meeting Gabriel's amber eyes. "This...isn't real, is it?"
"Sorry, big guy," Gabriel said, uncharacteristically melancholy. "You're currently comatose; too deep to wake up on your own. Sam asked me to come get you."
The mention of Sam's name knocked some sense into Dean. "Sam? Shit, Sam! Is he okay?"
"He's fine. Alive. Anna saved your asses; I was just the janitor." Dean noticed Gabriel was wearing a janitor's navy one-piece. "Seems like I'm destined to clean up after others."
Cas carefully watched the pot of soup, stirring occasionally. Even knowing this wasn't-Dean still wanted to wrap his arms around Cas and never let go. He yearned for this stupid little fantasy.
Bitterly, Dean sucked in a painful breath and glared at Gabriel. "Why are you here?"
"Like I said, to bring you back."
Dean vehemently shook his head. "No."
Shock flashed across the archangel's face as he gaped at Dean. "Excuse me?"
"I…" Dean pressed the heel of his palm to his heart. It was becoming a herculean effort to keep his fits under control. Sweaty and nauseous, Dean barely had the energy to hiss, "I can't leave him."
Gabriel rolled his eyes theatrically; it had nothing on Cas's perfected whole body eye roll. "You know you're on a one-way ticket to deadsville, right?"
"And? At least I'll have him a little longer."
Cas looked over his shoulder and shot Dean a smile. "Almost ready, Dean."
Gabriel's face morphed into something wistful, wondrous even. "An angelic exorcism would never have done this to a normal vessel, Dean. Whatever you two chuckleheads had going on? It's something I've never seen before."
Cas's voice echoed softly in the back of his head: Our bond is so impossibly profound.
The grief of losing Cas-the real Cas-broke Dean's tenuous hold on his lungs. He sucked in a distraught gasp, which forced him to cough several times. Dean hacked hard, and bright red blood spilled into his palm.
Gabriel wasn't surprised or alarmed. Just reserved.
"Dean," Gabriel hopped off the table and gripped his shoulder, shaking him slightly. "You have to wake up. We need you back out there-"
Dean broke his grip and stepped backward. "Why?" The copper on his lips mixed with the salt of silent tears. "Sam's a grown-ass man with superpowers; he doesn't need me anymore." The words hurt to say, but he held his ground.
"Dean-"
He cut Gabriel off, using the back of his hand to try and wipe away the traces of blood and tears from his face. "I'm not needed, Gabe," Dean said brokenly. "So please, let me just have this. Don't take Cas away from me. I can't do it again."
Crossing his arms, Gabriel scowled at him. "Dean. If you stay here, you can't bring Cas home."
For several seconds, Dean froze. "Wh-what?"
"I have an idea, but I need you to make it work."
Dean's legs started shaking so hard he collapsed into the chair he'd been holding on to. "Don't...don't do that to me." He was beginning to hyperventilate, but Gabriel only spoke over his increasing heart rate.
"I mean, you don't have to help," Gabriel said with a disappointed huff. "You can sit here and have a pity party for one until you literally die."
"Yeah? And WHOSE FAULT IS THAT?" Dean snarled viciously. "You ditched us! If you hadn't flown away like a goddamn coward, Cas-"
"I KNOW," Gabriel snapped back. There was a heated silence between them, which Gabriel broke first, ducking his head. "I screwed up," he admitted. "I know I haven't exactly earned my wings with you guys. But I wouldn't joke about this." Gabriel met Dean's eyes, a fire in him that Dean had never seen before. "He's my brother, Dean. I already let him down too many times."
Dean refused to move or say anything. He couldn't.
After a moment, Gabriel looked skyward, shoulders sagging in defeat. "If this," he said quietly, waving his hand around them. Cas was carefully ladling soup into a bowl. "If this is truly what you want-your dying wish? I'll honor it."
Dean couldn't believe his ears. "You'd leave me here?"
"Even tweak your memories so you won't remember this little chat. You'll live your perfect dream until you die. Can't do anything about the pain, but you'll have someone at your bedside-"
"-to watch over me," Dean finished dully. "What's the catch?"
"Not a catch. A choice. You can stay here, or you can come back with me and go save Cas."
"...You want me to go back into actual Hell?" Dean's words were brittle enough to break.
Blood red sky. Burning flesh, sulfur, brimstone. Pain, torture, the likes humans can't imagine until they're faced with it, under its knife.
"It's not much of a Hail Mary. I'll admit," Gabriel pushed his hair out his face. "A snowball has a better chance at being democratically elected as the next King of Hell. But...you might be able to bring Cas home, Dean."
Dean coughed so violently he heard and felt a rib crack inside him. He let out a groan of pain and fell to his knees, hearing his own death rattle.
Gabriel kneeled in front of Dean, face twisted in regret. "You're pretty much falling apart at the molecular level after what that demon did to you. So, in theory, saving Cas should save you, too."
Standing back up, Gabriel put his hands in his pockets. "So, time to pick your poison, Dean."
From the kitchen, Cas grabbed a cold beer from the fridge, the bowl of soup, and brought it over the table. As he set them down, he eyed Dean. "Come on, Dean. Don't let it get cold."
Dean looked at their apartment as he slowly got to his feet. He could finally have some peace, staying with this Cas until he slipped away. As far as deaths go, it was the kindest one he'd ever experience: no more worries, no more anything. No more being a hero.
He looked between them, Cas waiting at the table, Gabriel waiting by a black door he hadn't noticed before.
The couple steps to Cas felt like miles by the time Dean made his way to him. He was gasping; when he licked his lips, all he tasted was heartbreak. "I can't stay," Dean told Dream Cas as he hugged him. "Nice as this has been, I gotta go rescue your actual dumb ass...or, more'n likely, die trying."
Dean expected bitter words or disappointed tears. Dream Cas did neither when they broke apart. His blue eyes were dim. "Goodbye, Dean."
Smiling painfully, Dean turned to Gabriel. "Beam me up, Scotty."
"For what it's worth, I wouldn't have blamed you for staying," Gabriel consoled him. "But, what made you change your mind?"
"S'not real," Dean said curtly. "What we have is real. I can take agony; I can take on Hell. I'll do whatever it takes to get Cas back."
Satisfied, Gabriel opened the black door and walked inside through the veil of shadow. Without looking back, Dean steeled himself and followed the archangel into the darkness.
Dean was dead.
No.
Dean wished he was dead.
He couldn't fill his lungs without feeling like a bomb of rusty nails had exploded inside his body. Hands grabbed Dean by the shoulders; he would've swung in his panic if he could remember how to breathe without falling apart. There was copper on his tongue, filling his mouth with every wet cough.
"Dean, stop. It's me."
"-ammy?" Dean wheezed, cracked open an eye to see it was Sam over him. His hair was stringy, and he was pale, but otherwise, in his black hoodie and jeans, Sam looked good for someone who had been bleeding out from a stab wound.
Sam helped Dean sit back against his flat pillows; Dean weakly held onto Sam's wrist and checked him over. "Sammy...y'okay?"
"Yeah, Dean, I'm fine. More worried about what happened to you."
A chill ripped through Dean, leaving him shivering and chattering. His teeth hurt at how hard they were clacking together. Shit, he felt like he'd been dropped into an Antarctic winter butt naked. "S-shit-I'm s-s-so c-c-cold!"
Sam leaped up and headed outside the room's door, returning a moment later with several blankets. As he draped a familiar white, brown, and gold blanket over Dean, something clicked in his discombobulated brain. He focused on the bedroom he was in. "Bobby's?"
"Yeah," A thin voice said from beside him; Dean turned to see Anna sitting at his other side. She was a mess with her red hair tangled and knotted, face pale, dark circles under eyes. She wore no shirt, only a series of bandages wrapped around her stomach and chest, covering her breasts. "Didn't think you'd come back, Dean."
She reached out and took his shaking hand as Sam frantically ripped through the dresser and closet for any extra clothes since Dean was still shivering violently. "I'm so sorry," Anna said softly, blinking hard several times, but a few tears escaped anyways.
Sam returned with an armful of clothes and plopped the pile on Dean's lap. He helped his brother pull on another shirt and the thicker winter flannel he owned. After a moment and Dean continued to shake, Sam pulled off his black hoodie and helped him into it. It was oversized and warm, smelling of Sam's cheap fruity shampoo and aftershave. He still felt like roadkill, but it helped Dean feel slightly calmer.
The light from the bedroom window told him it was the afternoon. Despite the August humidity and his five layers, Dean's bones were ice, leeching frostbite into the rest of him.
"What happened," he faltered. "Did we...is Lilith…?"
"We got her," Sam said and held out a chipped coffee mug with ice cubes in it. Dean took the cup in shaking hands but focused on pressing a cube against his cracked lips. "That's where Gabriel's out doing, right now. Hiding her."
Dean's shoulders sagged in relief. They did it, no, "You did it, Sammy. Saved the world."
Sam opened his mouth, ready to dismiss and downplay everything he'd done, but he just plopped back down in the kitchen chair at Dean's bedside. "Guess so," he said noncommittally.
Dean turned to Anna. "What happened to you?" he asked, pointing to her bandaged chest.
"Zachariah," she said hollowly. "Sam was bleeding out, and you were seizing on the ground. I got distracted." She ran a hand over her bandaged side. "It was only a glancing blow. Instead of the blade causing my grace to explode, it just bled out slowly."
She swallowed. "Once I'd despatched him-with extreme prejudice-I used what was left of my grace to heal up Sam and keep you stable. It was then that Gabriel arrived to help."
"So...you're human again?"
"Seems that way," Anna said, and she chuckled. "Kinda relieved, actually."
"Not many people would be happier back at square one after having superpowers," Dean said.
"Yeah, well, clearly those people have never been an angel."
Dean tightened the grip on Anna's hand. "Thank you. For saving our asses."
She huffed bitterly. "Not all of us," she said. Both Sam and her shared a grief-stricken glance. "I'm so sorry about Cas, Dean."
Swallowing back images of Cas, safe, in their apartment, watching movies curled up together, Dean croaked out, "Gabe said he might have a plan. To get Cas back."
Twin faces of wide-eyed shock stared at him in stereo.
"Giving away my secrets already, huh?" At the end of the bed stood Gabriel, back in his regular clothes. He brushed off his hands. "Welp, that's all she wrote, folks. One pissed-off demoness in a box barely an inch cubed stashed...somewhere." He made a broad, sweeping gesture outwards.
"Where did you put her?" Sam asked.
Gabriel tapped his chin in thought. "Hm. Buried in the sand at the bottom of the Mariana Trench? Duct-taped to a passing asteroid hurtling through the solar system? Threw her into Jupiter's superstorm?" He shrugged nonchalantly. "I literally have no idea. As soon as I did whatever to her, I erased my memory."
The three humans just gawked at him. "What? Better safe than sorry."
"So, that's it...no Apocalypse." Dean clarified. It can't be that easy.
"No Judgment Day," Gabriel agreed. "You didn't break in Hell. There are no other Righteous Men to torment, and Lilith is permanently benched. There's nothing Heaven or Hell can do. Cas, that crafty little shit, did it."
Dean mulled over that for a thoughtful moment. No more destiny weighing them down? No more dancing at the end of a gun barrel, trigger pulled by a cruel bastard of a God?
Cas, the soft-hearted rebel, had done the impossible. With nothing more than dogged determination, he rallied his troops-two brothers destined for tragedy and two angels who chose sin-and saved the world. Every person alive owed Cas that life. But Cas wasn't here to bask in his victory because he was also a self-sacrificial idiot.
Luckily, he'd fallen for one of the most stubborn men alive. A Winchester didn't leave anyone behind, and Dean wasn't about to start now.
"You said you had a plan." Dean barely got the words out before another fit had him doubled over. Thinking quickly, Sam got a trashcan in front of him as he proceeded to puke out what must have been half his guts. The can had blood in it now, bright red mixed with black, coagulated chunks. Dean flopped back, and Gabriel grimaced.
"We don't have much time," Gabriel said, standing up to his full height. "The plan is simple. I give you wings, you fly in, grab Cas, come back."
"I...what?" Dean rubbed at his forehead, completely at a loss.
Sam waved at his brother. "Are you kidding? Dean can't, he's-" Sam's voice cracked, unable to admit to what everyone in the room knew. He changed tactics, focusing on Gabriel. "Why don't you go get Cas? You're an archangel!"
"Yeah, I'm an archangel who's supposed to be dead," Gabriel shot back. "Besides, I'd glow like a supernova in Hell; this requires stealth. And, I don't have a homing beacon on Cas like a certain someone does."
Dean's hand drifted up to his branded shoulder, and Gabriel nodded once.
"Just to clarify," Dean said incredulously. "Your hare-brained Hail Mary is to strap wings on me and shove me back into the Pit?"
"Gabriel, that's suicidal," Anna protested. "How would he even do it?"
"You people have no faith," Gabriel grumbled. "Look here, Deanster, the fact that you're not a complete vegetable is only 'cause of Anna. But you don't have much time. You are Cas's only hope."
"Thanks, Princess Leia." Dean groaned as something occurred to him. "I can't fly-I'm afraid of flying."
Gabriel snorted. "No, you're afraid of falling. Which, kinda late for that, isn't it, Romeo?"
Sam and Anna spoke to Gabriel; Dean could hear their voices, the tones but not the words. Anna was exhausted and frayed; Sam was hiding his earlier betrayal behind a wall of detailed questions. And Gabriel sounded close to desperate.
Fucker doesn't want this on his conscience. Serves him right if I die, and Cas is trapped forever. You made your bed, asshole.
The lack of the little hum, the comforting warmth from his shoulders, the lack of Cas made Dean feel like a scooped-out pumpkin pre-jack-o-lantern. Empty and missing its flame.
Cas? The silence in his head made tears fall, and he couldn't be bothered to wipe them away.
I don't know if you can hear me. Dean fidgeted with a fraying, loose thread of the blanket. Finally got your wish, huh, you stupid son of a bitch. You left. Just like every other person I've cared about.
Fuck.
Dean was beyond exhausted, gritting his teeth against the pain that never stopped. It just was.
I'm not going to be around much longer. I know it's not what you probably intended, but Cas…While I've still got a pulse, I'm gonna get you out.
The others fell silent when Dean pushed back the pile of blankets and swung his legs over the side of the bed. To say everything hurt was an understatement, like saying getting run over by a steamroller was a little painful. Sam ignored his brother's attempts to wave him off; he just threw his arm around Dean's waist and got him standing.
Looking like death warmed over, Dean sweated and swayed. He was falling apart at the atomic level. It wasn't something Sam could fix in a dirty motel bathroom with whiskey and dental floss. Dean grabbed onto the fabric of Sam's shirt in a shaking fist. After steadying himself, he stared at Gabriel with an intensity Cas would have approved of.
Dunno if you can hear me, but if you can…hold on for me, sweetheart.
"So," Dean whispered, a trickle of blood coming from the corner of his mouth, but he ignored it and Sam's paling face. "What do I need to do...to bring Cas home?"
Between one blink and the next, the scene around him changed. No longer standing in his guest room, Dean found himself in an overgrown, grassy field. He blinked hard several times in the afternoon sunlight before glancing around carefully.
A handmade, crooked wooden cross stood guard before a pile of sunbaked, overturned earth at his feet. The grass around him was kindling dry. A radius of destroyed, downed trees encircled the area.
Dean was back at his gravesite.
Sam gasped next to him. "You literally dug out of your own grave," he said in realization. "Jesus, Dean."
"Yeah, I need to ask what was up with that once, Cas…." Dean licked his cracked lips. "Once Cas is back."
Sam turned slightly to ask Gabriel, "Why are we here?"
"This place has excess energy from your guys' big breakout." Gabriel knelt and patted the dead grass, ran some of the grave dirt through his hands. "Cas's essence is still here, from when he resurrected you, too. It's not much, barely anything, but it'll have to do."
Standing up, Gabriel brushed the dirt from his hands.
Despite Sam's arm around his waist, Dean's legs collapsed from under him. Swearing, he hit the grass hard on his knees. Another rib-cracking coughing fit forced out a chunky wad of burgundy blood.
Gabriel walked around to his back, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder blade. "Dean, not gonna lie, this is going to suck."
Dean turned slightly and shot such a dead-eyed stare at Gabriel that the archangel gulped. "I barely lived through one of the few people I love in this world get ripped out of my fucking soul." He narrowed his eyes. "Hit me with your worst."
Gabriel rubbed his hands together and placed them on Dean's shoulders. The sound of rending fabric ripped through the air as Dean's back erupted with feathers, bone, and blood.
"Sonofabitch!"
Gabriel hadn't exaggerated; Dean had to breathe through the pain radiating from his back like a lady suffering contractions. Thank you, Dr. Sexy.
Dean grimaced at the sudden weight on his back, but when he turned around, his eyes bulged, and his mouth fell open.
He had honest to God wings bursting through the back of the hoodie. They spread at least ten, maybe twelve feet out on either side. The longest flight feathers were almost as tall as him. They were massive, yet Dean gauged they weighed less than a full sandbag each. Lighter than he expected. In sync, they flicked the remaining blood off the shining, waterproof feathers.
"I have wings," Dean said while meeting Sam's wide-eyed gaze.
"Does the pattern mean anything?" Sam asked.
Dean studied his wings. The undersides were white, the edges alternating stripes of white and dark gray. Carefully glancing over his shoulder, he was able to see the backs also were stormy gray.
Gabriel stepped back and eyed the wings critically. "Hm. Looks almost like a Harpy Eagle."
"Never heard of one, but that sounds kinda badass, right?" Dean said hopefully. Trying to get to his feet proved a mistake. Forgetting about the living weight on his back, he almost toppled over. His wings tried to overcompensate by flapping in the other direction, shooting him several feet across the field and landing hard. Dean felt something break inside him. More blood poured from his lips.
Wheezing, Dean demanded as he stood up, "How the fuck do I drive these things?"
Instead of answering, Gabriel tapped his wristwatch. The clock became a countdown timer from six hours. 5:59:59...5:59:58…5:59:57…
"If you're not back by then," Gabriel said ominously, "You aren't coming back."
"Noted," Dean said, spitting out a wad of blood. "And how am I supposed to homing pigeon my way back here?"
Sam ducked past Dean's new limbs. Under Dean's suspicious gaze, he grabbed the old bronze amulet, screwed up his eyes, and muttered something. "Compass spell," Sam explained once he opened his eyes. "Should lead right back to me."
"Thanks, Samwitch," Dean forced a little chuckle, and Sam rolled his eyes.
"Both of you better come back," Sam said as he pressed the demon knife into his hand. Dean slid it into the waistband of his jeans.
With a loud snap of fingers, the graveyard dirt shifted to create a ring about eight feet across. Tendrils of blue light shot in the middle of the ring and opened a swirling portal of white light. Dean stepped forward carefully, tightly holding his wings to his back. Doubt and fear froze him at the edge of the ring.
"Sorry, Dean, you're on a schedule," Gabriel said, tapping his watch. Dean swallowed harshly.
"You haven't taught me how to-"
"Ah, you're a Winchester! You'll figure it out." Gabriel reached out and shoved Dean forward. With a startled yelp, he tumbled into the portal.
"FUUUUUUUUU-!"
Dean's wings whipped around behind him like two broken parachutes. Tumbling ass over teakettle through a hazy sky, he closed his eyes, rolled his shoulders. Tried to figure out how the fuck to fly before he died of a heart attack.
Purely by accident, Dean got the wings to snap open and hold, slowing his chaotic descent. Ignoring the pain of his body, Dean leaned back and forth, getting used to the way his weight affected them. Imagining them like an extra pair of arms suddenly made sense. In theory, if he could flap his regular arms, he could flap a pair of giant chicken wings. Screwing his face up in concentration he moved them with a single firm beat. Dean shot through the sky at speeds the Impala could only dream of hitting.
Holy shit, I'm flying!
Black lightning crackled across the crimson sky-the sickening smell of burnt flesh and sulfur-the neverending screams of the damned-
Dean was back in Hell. Holy shit, if he had anything left to vomit, he would have. He set his jaw. This is different. I'm here to rescue Cas.
Slowly, Dean flew over Hell, high above the Pit, where demons writhed and attacked each other for eternity. He cautiously skirted the racks above him. New souls got captured on the hooked chains in the sky, like bugs caught in a web. And like a spider sensing dinner, a demon torturer would set up camp, using every trick in the book until the soul finally broke, burst into smoke, and fell into the pit.
Memories crossed his mind, but he screwed his eyes tight. Dean couldn't bear to look; just hearing those desperate screams was enough to turn his stomach. Dean focused on his shoulder, on Cas's claim. How am I supposed to find you?
There was something of a pull. It was faint, but as he flew towards it, the draw grew stronger. Dean flapped and shot forward, then maintained a decent cruising speed. The wings were built for both agility and gliding, it seemed. Good. he wasn't sure he had the energy for anything more strenuous.
Yes, he could feel it, a slight but definite tugging. His breath hitched.
I'm coming to get you, Cas. Hold on!
Distracted, Dean missed a newly broken soul falling from the rack. They collided midair painfully-the black smoke wrapped around his neck as he tried to stay aloft. Dean lost the tenuous control of his wings, and they collapsed, sending him hurtling towards the rusty ground, a cliff edge above the pit. Wrestling with the demon, it tried to worm its way down his nose and throat-
He hit the ground hard and rolled down a hill of sand and jagged rock. Wings flapping wildly, kicking up dust, the demon still trying to get in, he finally screamed, "Christo!"
The demon shot away like a bullet towards the pit. He took a ragged breath of relief, then remembered his tattoo and groaned. Probably could have avoided the crash landing if he'd thought for two seconds.
Sitting up slowly, pain he recognized as more broken ribs jolted him into another coughing fit. The blood he threw up was getting darker and thicker. He didn't have much time left. Getting to his feet was easier said than done, but he managed to shake the wings out and dust himself off. Despite the crash landing, his wings were fine-they were stronger than they looked-but Sam's hoodie was shredded, which pissed him off to no end.
The pull from the claim was barely tangible now.
Dean took in the harsh landscape: the burgundy mountains in the distance, the rusty soil on the rocky ground stretching to the horizon, the cavernous pit far below, the infinite webs of the racks above him, the lakes of fire dotting the landscape. It reminded him of the surface of Mars from Total Recall, except he could breathe here without his eyes exploding.
Cas was out there. Somewhere.
Where are you?
Dean was flying low, exhaustion and blood loss making him count on his wings' gliding ability. When sand pelted his face, it took him several seconds too long to realize what the rust-colored wall of haze meant. "Shit!" He sharply banked down, arms shielding his face, and he frantically tried to find shelter. His wings were already getting pelted with sand, and he snarled in pain.
There was nothing around him for shelter; he'd have to try and outrun it. About to turn tail and haul ass, Dean spied on a cliffside about five hundred feet up ahead a cave opening. He'd have to go into the storm to get to it, yet something told him to aim for that cave and nothing else. Dean hadn't lived this long without trusting his gut, so he flapped once, twice, gaining speed to make the cave before the sandstorm scoured his flesh from his bones.
He didn't make it. A wall of jagged sand grains knocked him out of the sky. His wings could barely move in the torrent. Come on! The cave, he could see it, just a little farther, a few hundred feet maybe. Tucking his wings, he shot forward. The sand burned his eyes, his nose, and cheeks, his already ravaged throat.
Dean hit the tiny ledge in front of the cave and somersaulted limply inside. He dragged himself further into the cave with the last of his energy. It was pitch black, with nothing but the thunderous sounds of the sandstorm, loud enough to drown out the screaming of the damned.
He vomited more blood, most of it black at this point. His vision swam, and his wings were a wreck. Weakly running his hands over them, he felt the missing feathers and slick patches of blood, but it didn't hurt. Or, more than likely, his nerves were already overloaded from the pain of Cas's exorcism and his Hell adventure, and they literally couldn't detect anything more. Hallelujah, Dean thought bitterly.
Dean slumped against the far wall, huddled within his wings as they shielded him from the worst of the elements. The howling winds reminded Dean of when he and Sam had gotten stuck in a sand storm in Arizona. Getting the grit out of Baby's tape deck had been a special kind of hell.
Dean drew the demon knife and rolled up the sleeve of his bloody, muddy, singed, and shredded hoodie. It was no longer black but a disgusting brown from his blood and the clay-like dirt. He'd shed the other layers along the way, not wanting to cook in Hell though he couldn't give it up - it was Sam's.
He pulled out his trusty Zippo from his pocket and lit it now. The flames sputtered but finally caught, allowing Dean to look at his forearm and the row of thin, symmetrical lines there.
On his first night, under an onyx moon, Dean had calculated that Gabriel's six hours meant he had roughly a month of Hell time to find Cas. Now, he had a dozen cuts, one for each day. Twelve days of near misses with natural disasters, other demons, getting tangled in the racks when updrafts sent him too high. Twelve days of soul-deep agony never letting up-shit, even Alastair let him breathe for a moment at the end of the day.
Eying the wall of banded feathers and listening to the storm outside, Dean took the knife and made another one. Blood trickled down his arm-thirteen days with no sign of Cas.
After wiping the knife on his jeans, he used his hoodie hem to blot away the blood from his cut and pulled the sleeve back down. These storms could last forever, so he'd try to rest.
When he tried to get comfortable, though, he couldn't stop fidgeting-even his wings wouldn't settle down. Was he...itchy? No, that wasn't it. It was like a string was wrapped around his shoulder and was pulling him deeper into the cave. Wait, shoulder?
His heart leaped into his throat as Dean jerked down the collar. The handprint was glowing, ever so softly, but yes, he could feel that pull-Cas is close.
Using the wall to steady himself, he stiffly got his broken body back upright. He didn't have the energy to be excited that his search might be at its end. "Alright, sweetheart, where are you?"
The cave wasn't a cave, Dean realized, but the entrance of a tunnel. But his Zippo was sputtering again, and he wanted to conserve the fluid inside. So he slipped it back into jeans, shook out his wings to get rid of most of the sand and debris, and slowly went further in.
Since there was no light, the shifting textures of the rocky wall under his fingertips were the only evidence he was moving at all. As time passed in the silent dark, Dean found he almost missed the screaming. At least that was proof he was somewhere. Only the increasing tug from his brand told him he was going in the right direction.
Cas left you, his inner demon pointed out when nothing was distracting him. Just like everyone you care about. What if he wants to be here? To serve his time, pay his penance. Then you crash the party for what? To save your own hide? What kind of monster are you?
Jesus, What if all this was for nothing?
No. Dean bit his lip hard enough that his blunt teeth ripped through it. It was a minuscule amount of pain compared to what he'd been through. That was the point; it was just a jolt to his senses.
Cas wants to stay? Then that's on him. I can die saying I tried.
Dean continued, steadfastly ignoring his weakening gait. Whatever had been keeping him going these past few weeks was fading. Dean didn't think he had two more Hell weeks at this rate. More hurtful words rolled around in his mind, picking and prodding at every sore point like a tongue poking an aching tooth.
Do you deserve him? Deserve to save him? Come on, what makes you good enough?
He stopped, ruining his momentum. Dean wasn't sure he would start again, but he had to address it. Yeah, I'm not perfect. I've got my shit; Cas has his. He ran his hand over his shoulder, feeling the insistent tugging.
All we can hope for is that his jagged edges and my jagged edges fit like puzzle pieces more often than not.
A tiny smile grew unbidden over Dean's face. He's it for me.
Just as he started moving again, Dean saw a flickering glow of firelight up ahead of him, maybe fifty feet up the tunnel. Pausing just long enough to get the knife in his hand, he snuck forward. Dean used the knife's blade as a mirror to peer around the corner. Two torches on the opposite walls, two demons in meat suits, and a metal gate they were guarding. Weird, why meat suits?
Taking a breath, Dean shot around the corner with a boost from his wings. The first demon was already on the ground, sparking out before the second one knew what had happened. He shoved the bloody knife to the survivor's throat. "Why are you wearing a meat suit? What are you guarding?" Dean hissed.
The demon gave a tiny shake of his head; the blade pressed harder until blood trickled from his trachea. "Is it the angel?" The demon's eyes widened a fraction. "Where is it?" He demanded-more blood flowing from the blade's edge.
Still, the demon refused to speak. Dean leaned close. "I'm asking one last time. Where. Is. My. Angel?"
The demon's eyes flickered at the gate. "Thanks," Dean said, slicing roughly through the demon's neck and snatching a key ring from his belt while it sparked, then burnt out. He snuck past the bodies, opened the gate with the key, shut it behind him, and headed farther into the tunnel. The torches gave him just enough light to see he was staring down a corridor.
His arm was burning. A faint bluish-white glow was at the end of the corridor, maybe a hundred feet from him. Cas!
Dean jogged as quietly as possible until he found himself in front of a stone cell, jaw open as his heart sank.
Inside the cell were two more demons in meat suits. There was something chained up in front of them. The light, grace, Dean realized, created a glowing humanoid shape covered in closed eyes, with six arms chained over its head. The figure was human-sized and had two wings pinned cruelly to the ceiling. They were black, with smatterings of pinks, blues, and greens. Oh, fuck, that's gotta be-
A demon held an angel blade and dragged its tip down its chest, and the figure shook in pain, letting out a rumble that made Dean's head hurt.
Dean couldn't help himself; he unlocked the cell door and threw it open hard enough it clanged against the rock wall. "HEY, ASSHOLES!" He snarled, shredding his vocal cords. The demons whipped around, startled at the sight of him.
"Why don't you pick on someone your own size, you butt-ugly bitches?" Dean held his knife at the ready; his wings flared out, and he felt them morph. The first feather became the slicing-edge, the back of the wings hardened into a shield.
The demons launched themselves at him. One wing shot out and sliced the demon across the chest, taking it down. Dean grappled with the second one for a moment, it getting the upper hand in his weakened state. His other wing stabbed the demon through the gut and shoved it away. These things are cool.
He stabbed each demon once with the knife then headed into the cell, slowly approaching the chained-up figure.
The tugging from the handprint was borderline painful.
"Cas?" Dean whispered hopefully.
Blue flames flickered forth from the eyeless sockets of a jawless, humanoid skull that could only be the angel's head. It turned to face him; the eyes along its body opened and stared at him, all of them that familiar brilliant blue.
"Cas, it's me." Dean's eyes followed the chains crossing across him and anchoring into the walls.
The skull dropped. Cas didn't believe him. No, no, no!
Dean ripped his collar aside, popping seams so that he could show the handprint to the angel. "I know they play mind games with you," Dean whispered. "But you gotta believe me, sweetheart. Just look, please," he implored.
The skull stared at the handprint for a long moment before the flames flickered brighter. The eyes along its body all squinted at him. Then it tilted its damn head, and Dean almost cried.
"Cas," Dean hissed in relief. He reached out to hug him but stopped short. Remembered the shit that had happened to him when in the basement. Instead, he asked calmly, "Can I touch you-to get you down?"
The skull nodded once and tilted past him. Dean whirled around to see a large metal key on a table of tools, the sight of those familiar implements hitting too close to home. Dean had to steel himself, grab the key, and turn back immediately. He still shuddered for a moment.
The skull emanated a rumbling sound, and Dean paused to listen. It was a language-he could recognize a few pieces here and there, but they weren't spoken with that guttural growl he was used to. Instead, the Enochian flowed from Cas like syrup, thick and fluid, rather than rocks falling down a mountainside. It was surprisingly lyrical, and then Dean realized he could understand it.
"...You better be a figment of my imagination, Dean," Cas growled (surprisingly close to his human voice) as Dean tugged on the chains, figuring out the order to undo them to get him down safely.
"What...why?"
A hundred eyes scowled at him. Boy, that was a weird visual. "Because I'm going to kill you otherwise!"
Dean put his hands on his hips, a bad idea because he almost tipped over in his weakened state. "You're an ungrateful asshole!"
"Dean! The whole point of -you were supposed to stay out and stay safe." The blue flames flared brightly.
"Yeah, well," Dean blinked hard and licked his lips, hurt and worried. For a second, he legitimately wondered if Cas would send him back topside alone. "Plans change." He began unlocking the various chains, face burning, tears welling up. Wiping his hand over his eyes helped him avoid Cas's literal burning gaze.
"I didn't ask to be saved," Cas whispered.
"You shouldn't have to!" Dean snapped back, the clinking of the chains as they fell away echoing around them.
"Dean, this is my-"
Dean's angry words spilled out over Cas's. "If you say you need to do penance or achieve absolution one more goddamn time, I swear to God! You did your time, two hundred years here, Cas. Then you went out and stopped the fucking Apocalypse. The world is safe. Sam's safe. I'm safe. You're done." Dean went back to untangling a chain from one of Cas's extra arms.
"Dean?"
"What?"
"You look awful."
Dean tried to snort but ended up spitting out a thick wad of black blood. A hundred eyes stared at him in concern. "Yeah, well, getting your best friend ripped out of your soul kinda fucks a guy up."
He vaguely waved to Cas's true form. "Gotta admit, though, I'm digging the Ghost Rider flaming skull thing you've got going on. The eyes are cool too."
"I'm surprised you're conscious," Cas said, not letting Dean distract him.
"Only thanks to Anna. She used the last of her grace as a shot of magic adrenaline, and Gabriel strapped wings on me so I could come to get you."
Cas was contemplative. "You needed me because of your illness."
"I need you for you," Dean said, cutting off Cas's thoughts at the pass. "I would have saved you regardless, Cas."
Releasing the chains keeping his wings trapped, they dropped lifelessly to the stone floor, and Cas sagged. Only his arms suspended to the ceiling were keeping him upright.
"You don't deserve this place. Neither of us deserved this place," Dean said firmly. "Now, do you want to argue with me about this? Do you want to stay here?"
It was a rhetorical question, but Cas bowed his head. "No."
Several minutes later, with the last chains unlocked, Cas dropped to his knees weakly. Weaving around the wings and extra arms, ignoring the hundred eyes intensely watching, Dean stepped up to Cas. Not sure he could touch the fire (Alastair's last moments played in his head), he stopped short of actually touching him. "Then come home, Cas."
There was a flash of light, a warmth trickling down his throat, and Dean felt whole once again: the hum back in his head, the spider's web of grace reweaving into his bones. Dean was on the ground, on his knees in the void because Cas's light was gone. Tears of relief fell down his cheeks.
Cas was back. Cas was home.
Hesitantly, Dean called out, Cas?
Dean? A shocked gasp reverberated through his head. Dean, I didn't know this would happen...
Cas-I don't regret having this bond with you, understand? It led me to you.
There was a moment of silence. I don't know how to fix this.
Dean swallowed hard. I'm still dying?
Gabriel was correct when he said there wasn't much of me left. The fact that you saw my true form and heard my true voice and haven't descended into madness can attest to that. I can try to heal the worst of the damage, but I can't get us back to Earth. I can't fly, Dean.
Dean fluttered his wings proudly. Don't worry about that. I got me here; I'll get us out.
Cas curled around his soul gently, his warmth a soothing balm against the frostbite he had endured. You're afraid of flying, Cas pointed out.
Yep, still strapped on wings to get you.
There was a timid little silence from Cas. Dean? You were beautiful before but with wings of your own? You're breathtaking.
Shut up, Cas, he said, flustered.
Maybe it was the pain, or he was high on a big win. Either way, Dean found he didn't mind if Cas couldn't save him. As long as Dean could get Cas out of Hell safely, that was all that mattered. Shit, Cas could use his body like he originally wanted. Such a morbid thought should have scared him, but it only fueled his determination.
Don't wear yourself out. I just need you to keep me upright til we're topside.
Dean felt Cas inside, could feel the worried buzzing of his grace. It was the best feeling in the world. Opening his eyes, he realized the torchlight was too far away. Crap, can't see.
A few seconds later, a ring of blue light encircled Dean's right wrist, up past his bracelet. Cas, is that your halo?
It's not much, Cas said, not answering.
It's more than enough, Dean promised.
Silently striding towards the cell's entrance, Dean planned to take the same tunnel back into Hell and get out of here. Whatever Cas had done (if anything at this point) to keep him going was a temporary stopgap and nothing more. He stepped into the hallway, hoping they wouldn't run into any more-
"Well, I must admit I wasn't expecting such a daring rescue! Right under my nose too! Such a spunky little Winchester."
There was a flicker of light down the tunnel, the way they needed to go. A match flame lit a tobacco pipe, puffed on by a familiar demon, leaning on a cane, his twisted true form grinning at them. A black, six-eyed hellhound snarled at his side, bull horned, bigger than Cujo and far nastier.
Sucking in a tiny, terrified gasp, Dean stumbled back a step, wings fluttering to counterbalance him.
Nextus patted the snarling creature's head. "You remember Ambrose, Dean? He's the one who collected you."
Dean did recognize that goddamn dog and started trembling. Cas's grace grew frigid inside him. He wasn't sure if it was from fear or anger.
"Nextus," Dean said, trying valiantly to appear in a better fighting shape than he was. His wings flared behind them. "Let us go, and I won't have to kill you."
"Normally, that would be deal of the century," Nextus agreed in his nasal voice. "Exorcising me at the bar was annoying, though I am enough of a professional to understand the stakes we play." He puffed a few times on his pipe. "However, things aren't that simple anymore."
"We barbecued Alastair out of existence," Dean continued right over him. "Took out Lilith and Azazel, all demons higher up the corporate ladder than you."
The demon mulled that over for a minute. "Yes, you did. Created a messy little power vacuum that demons are scrambling to fill. Which is why I need the angel."
Sweat broke out of Dean's face. "He's no use to you-his powers gone."
Nextus took a long drag from the pipe and blew a perfect smoke ring. His eyes roamed over Dean's beaten and broken body. He hated the waiting game the demon was forcing him to play.
"How about a deal?" Nextus said finally. "Because, let's be honest, gentlemen, you aren't walking away from this any other way."
No, Dean, Cas said. Don't. Whatever it is we can't-
"What do you want?" Cas, he's right. There's not much I can do at this point. I'm not halfway to my grave-I'm standing in it.
Dean ignored the sour realization from Cas at just how screwed they both were.
"I want you out. So take your broken angel and leave. Stay out of Hell, in every sense."
Dean stared at Nextus. "That's it?" He asked, instantly flinching.
Dean, shut up!
The demon spoke around the pipe. "I'm one of those demons with my eyes on the throne," Nextus said. "As you said, the angel's a useless liability."
"So, we stay out of your lane; you stay out of ours?"
"Exactly," Nextus agreed. "However, I meant it when I say stay out. If either of you interferes with anything Hell-related in the future, even a garden variety exorcism?" He leaned forward, patting the hellhound's head. "Ambrose and I will find you. Creatively kill everyone you care about in front of your eyes, and drag you both back here."
His words hung thick like a miasma in the air. A piece of parchment popped into existence, floating between them. "So, do we have a deal?"
"Yes," Dean said without missing a beat. "That'll be easy; we want nothing to do with you anyway, Grandpa."
Dean, are you suicidal?
There was a prick from his finger, and Dean pressed his bloody fingerprint to the paper before it vanished.
The demon stepped aside, and the hellhound reluctantly sat on his haunches. "Now, I have to make this look official." Nextus pulled out his pocket watch and tapped his cane on the ground, counting the seconds. "I'll give you a sixty-second head start."
"Head start for what?" Dean asked, but Nextus just grinned.
"Start!"
Eyes darting from the demon to hellhound with sinking realization, Dean hauled ass past them back down the tunnel. He held out his hand to let Cas's light guide them, but it seemed like only a handful of seconds had gone by before he heard the echo of that familiar baying behind them.
He stumbled into the metal gate, which he then remembered he had locked behind him. Struggling to get the key out of his pocket, Dean almost dropped it as the snarling hound closed in on them. He unlocked the door, and slammed it back, and locked it. The hundred-pound Zuul reject hit the gate hard enough it shook in its foundation. Ambrose snarled and pawed through the bars, and Dean realized it would not be a deterrent for long.
His boots pounded on the stone, his body trying but slowing down, pushed beyond its limit.
Bang! The dog hit the gate hard enough he felt it reverberate up his legs.
Bang!
He realized the walls weren't wide enough to get his wings sufficiently open to fly. Fuck, we aren't going to make it, Dean said.
BANG! Dean heard the gate collapse and the pounding of paws catching up.
A glow, a faint red light, shined from the exit up ahead. The storm was abating. Hold on, Cas!
Ambrose snapped at his heels and grabbed the back of the hoodie in his teeth. The fabric tore as it was ripped off of him, but Dean used that second of distraction to take a running leap from the cave and into the air-hundreds of feet above the red soil amidst the waning sandstorm. Dean flapped, and he shot up until he broke free from the storm.
Muscle memory took over, wings catching an updraft and powering him back in the direction he'd come from earlier.
You fly well for someone who wasn't born with wings.
Kinda had to wing it.
Cas rumble of annoyance made him so damn happy. Dean glided away from the pit and the racks, holding onto his amulet. What are you doing?
Sam said this would lead us back. Dunno how, though.
The amulet levitated and tugged on the cord, pointing towards the west. Ok, that's handy. Should be faster getting back since I'm not searching for you.
Dean-thank you.
Dean dodged more souls dropping from the racks, and the terrain flew past underneath them. No reason to thank me, Cas.
The black moon rose and fell once as they sailed over Hell. They hadn't spoken much, both too exhausted and drained and barely alive. But they were whole once more.
Dean dodged another soul zipping past when he noticed the amulet started blinking like a beacon, the cord biting into his neck. I think we're getting close!
Dean, I see something.
A familiar portal swirled in the sky before them. Thank you, Gabe.
Dean huffed, feeling his control over his wings faltering. Anna's adrenaline shot was crashing. Come on, we're so close, not now! They were losing altitude.
We are going home, goddammit! Dean roared, flapping hard once, twice.
They emerged in the early evening over the grassy meadow and immediately crashed into the ground.
With a great flap, the giant wings disappeared, and Dean collapsed weakly. He already kinda missed them.
"Hey, Dean! What happened? Did you get him?" Sam asked. He had been sitting cross-legged on the ground but rushed over to support Dean's shoulder as his head lolled weakly.
"Got him," Dean whispered. He glanced down and saw his naked chest was nothing but purple mottling, bloodstains, mud, and ash. No amount of hot water was going to wash Hell off of him.
Sam whipped out his phone and sent a quick text. As soon as he flipped the phone shut and got it back into his pocket, Gabriel was there, relieved and amazed. "Cassie?"
Dean nodded slowly, feeling relief coming off Cas's grace in waves.
With a snap, they were back in Dean's room at Bobby's place; he was plopped down on the edge of his bed. "How are you? How's Cas?" Sam asked worriedly.
Dean coughed again, but there wasn't any blood, so he counted it as a win. "Alright. Too weak to heal me all the way."
Gabriel stepped forward. "I could try?"
Dean nodded, and Gabriel grabbed Dean's unbranded shoulder. Grace ran through him, though this felt colder than Cas's. Like getting ice water shoved through his veins, both unsettling and invigorating.
After a minute, Gabriel pulled back, and Dean was healed. "Couldn't you have done that earlier?" Dean gripped, looking down to see he had been magicked clean. Sam handed him a shirt from his dresser.
"Was worried you'd reject any grace that wasn't Cas's. Anna barely gave you any, so I think that's why it worked. Cas smoothed out the worst of the real damage; I just made you handsome again."
Sam pulled Dean into a hug which Dean returned. Cas, you wanna come out?
There was a worried silence. I can't.
Can't or won't? Sam won't hold what you did against you or anything.
...can't, Cas admitted quietly. I've tried. I can't make my avatar. Can't switch drivers. I could only marginally heal you. Gabriel had to do the rest.
With a horrified realization, Dean's mind came to a screeching halt. Cas, are you just trapped inside me now?
His stony silence was all the answer Dean needed. Oh, sweetheart.
Creating an avatar and switching who was in control had given Cas some semblance of independence. He could interact with the world, though invisibly. He could take control when needed in short bursts. But now, those few concessions were off the table.
Is there anything we can do? Dean asked. You had to rest more often and use my soul to recharge the last time you got us out, right? Can you do that again?
I'm much weaker than last time, Cas admitted. I'd have to put myself into something like a coma. For a long time, Dean.
Despite his stomach curling in knots, Dean asked. What's a long time?
I don't know. Maybe a year? If not longer. If it worked at all. Cas paused, then added, If I could even wake up.
Dread twisted in his guts. I just got you back, and now you're saying you need to nap for a year? That you might not even-
I'm sorry, Dean, Cas whispered.
Both Sam and Gabriel watched him with growing concern, so Dean explained, "Cas can't do anything anymore. Says he might have to hibernate for a year to get some of his abilities back. And that's not a guarantee."
I just got him back. Now I'll lose him again.
Surprising him, Sam didn't seem upset by this roadblock, which pissed Dean off. "Sam, didn't you hear me? I thought you were Cas's friend."
Gabriel cleared his throat, which prompted Sam. "Right! So, after you left, I got a phone call from Chuck. I almost ignored it but decided to see what the asshole had to say for himself. Good thing I did. As an apology for letting the angels get the drop on us, Chuck passed along a piece of info no one knows about." Sam leaned forward. "Heaven missed someone."
What does he mean? Cas asked warily.
"Sammy," Dean warned.
"When Heaven culled Cas's bloodline," Sam was vibrating with excitement. "They missed someone."
"Well," Gabriel jumped in. "More like they were so tangentially related to the vessel bloodline it was a moot point in Heaven's eyes."
Cas was stunned, silent for a long moment. Someone survived? He eventually asked, voice tiny and fragile. Dean had never heard him sound so small and vulnerable.
"Okay, and?"
"That survivor passed down that tiny bit of magic to their descendants," Gabriel explained. "Today, there's just one person with this last speck of magic. Now, the blood is too dilated for this person to be a vessel-Cas can't possess them. But we don't need them." He pulled out a glass vial of blood from his jacket pocket. "Just this."
"What?" Dean chuckled awkwardly, scratching his head. "You stole their blood?"
Gabriel rolled his eyes."Of course not! I'm a professional; I asked nicely after I explained I was an angel on a mission from God."
"And they believed you?"
"Not even a little," Gabriel admitted. "While the Blue Brothers' schtick might not have swayed them, the wings did the trick."
"I thought you were worried about your cover?" Dean asked, crossing his arms.
"This is for Cas," Gabriel insisted.
What will you do with this blood?
"Cas wants to know the plan."
Gabriel's eyes lit up. "Build you a body."
It took several seconds for the enormity of that statement to wash over them. "You're serious?" Dean demanded.
"Yep. Ironic, I know. Hanging out with pagans has finally paid off," Gabriel said. "I know a thing or two about blood magic-thank you, Kali."
He set aside his flashy trickster facade and tapped into that ancient archangel once more. "I can build you a body. Your grace is going to take a while to heal, though-you'll basically be human for the foreseeable future."
There was an oppressive silence within Dean. Cas? Talk to me. He tried not to remember that empty, hollow feeling, tried not to imagine Cas sleeping, maybe never waking, as a literal lump in his chest.
I know not having my powers is not ideal, Cas started slowly, but Dean cut him off.
I don't give a fuck about your powers! I care about you. Whatever you choose, I'll back you, but don't pick based on some usefulness scale.
When Cas grew sullen and didn't respond, Dean continued.
You know I don't mind you being the bossy backseat driver. You tell me what you want, and I'll do it for you.
That's not what I want, Cas snapped. For either of us. I don't want to become resentful.
That stung the caretaker part of Dean's brain. I get it. You're an independent angel who don't need no man, Dean joked.
That would be the idea, yes, Cas agreed. However, I'd be human for a time.
You'll always be my angel, Cas, even if you've retired your harp.
I still don't have a harp, Dean. Another moment passed, and Cas sighed. I want my own body, please.
Dean replayed his answer to Gabriel. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Gabriel shooed the brothers out. "I need the room," was all the archangel said before he slammed the bedroom door in Dean's face.
Dean leaned against the wall and slid down it, Sam next to him.
You'll have an actual body. Dean mused, still processing what just happened. Guess you'll be getting a new face too. That'll take time getting used to.
I've grown comfortable with Dmitri's face was well, Cas admitted. But Dean? You're still my home, even if it's not in a literal sense anymore.
Dean fidgeted with the amulet. He needed to be happy for Cas-this was a friggin miracle. Yet Dean's issues were trying to take center stage. This isn't about my baggage, he told himself.
I'm not leaving, Dean, Cas said firmly, snapping him from his downward spiral. You asked me to stay. The exorcism was an exception, not the rule.
Dean swallowed hard and let his head thump back against the wall. Yeah, alright, Cas.
Dean, I chose you. You chose me. What body I'm in is not going to change that. Believe me, please.
Dean wiped a hand over his face and cleared his throat. "Dust in my eye, shut up," he said preemptively when Sam studied him.
I do. And will you believe me when I say you don't need powers to be my shield?
Yes, Dean, I do.
Before Dean could fully work out why that phrasing had his heart skipping a beat, the door swung open, and Gabriel stepped out. He shot Sam a pleased, conspiratorial look then winked at Dean. "Your chariot awaits, Cas."
Dean walked into his room, shaking his head at the body-shaped lump under a bedsheet. It felt like he was checking out a crime scene or something. "How very Frankenstein," he grumbled. He went to the sheet and, with trembling fingers, pulled it back. His jaw hit the floor.
"Are you guys serious?" Dean was squeaking so high only dogs were hearing him at that point. "Dmitri Collins?!"
"Yup," Sam said. He and Gabriel shared a little fist bump.
No wonder you thought he looked like your last vessel, Cas!
Cas huffed, pleased. I'm happy to get to stay in something familiar.
"We'll leave you to it," Sam said, grabbed a protesting Gabriel by the shoulders, and steered him out before closing the door.
Dean looked down at the body, a naked Cas duplicate: stubble, hip bones, the tiny freckle over his right nipple, and everything in between. It wasn't breathing, motionless, and doll-like. The uncanny valley effect squicked Dean out for a second but controlled himself. "You ready, Cas?"
I am, Dean.
Dean leaned down until his lips were almost touching the body, and Cas's warmth left him. Dean pulled back, eyes darting all over the face, waiting with bated breath.
After a moment, the chest rose, taking its first breath. Color came to its cheeks. The blue eyes opened, and Cas was twinkling within them. "Hello, Dean."
Dean beamed at that familiar, raspy voice. "Look who's a real boy now," he whispered, overtaken with emotion.
Cas pulled Dean down to him, but instead of a kiss, he buried his face into Dean's neck and started sobbing. Dean froze, not even sure what was happening. Dean hugged him gently. Cas? When he didn't respond, Dean huffed. Right. "Cas?"
"I didn't want to leave you, Dean," Cas managed to say between hiccups. "And then to find you descended into Hell, the very thing I attempted to prevent…then our brothers give me this tremendous gift…?"
"It's alright, Cas. We all need a little savin' sometimes." Dean rubbed his hand up and down Cas's warm back. He decided to let Cas get it out of his system; the poor guy had been on one hell of an emotional rollercoaster for the past month and a half. And Dean knew how disoriented he was out of Hell that first time.
Holding onto Cas as flesh and bone, Dean came to realize how flimsy Cas had been as a hallucination. He could feel imperfections under his fingertips. His stubble was coarser against his neck, and actual tears were soaking Dean's shirt collar. He was real.
After a few quiet moments, when the sobs diminished to sniffles, Dean reluctantly leaned back. Though Cas's face was splotchy, tear-streaked, and generally a wreck, he was still the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen.
Dean kissed him, a messy human thing of teeth and tongue, filled with love and devotion.
"I keep thinking at you and wondering why you aren't answering," Dean said.
"It's going to take some time getting used to the peace and quiet," Cas said. Asshole.
"'M gonna miss you," Dean admitted quietly, using the edge of the sheet to gently clean Cas's face. "But this? Being able to watch over you while you sleep next to me in a real bed? I wouldn't trade that for the world."
"Dean, don't you know that's considered creepy?"
Dean shoved him playfully. "Scrap everything I just said, you dick."
Cas stiffly sat up, examining his hands and body. Cas's eyes filled with patent excitement. "I want to try so many things, Dean. Food. Sleep. Showers seem relaxing." He glanced under the sheet, then grinned wickedly at Dean. "Things I want to try with you, too."
Following his example, Dean checked under the sheet, the reality of the situation throwing him for a minute. "Cas," Dean said gravely. "You have your own dick now."
Cas ducked his head and huffed with a tiny shake of his head. "Yes, I do." There was a rumbling sound, and Cas raised an eyebrow and prodded his stomach carefully. "What…?"
Dean grinned. "Means you're hungry."Something crossed his mind. "How do you feel about a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?"
"I don't know," Cas said thoughtfully. "I'll have to try it and find out. Live by trial and error as humans do."
"Gotta skin your knees up a little bit," Dean agreed before gathering some clean clothes for Cas. He topped the pile of his hand-me-downs with an old Led Zeppelin t-shirt. "As much as it's a crime against humanity to cover up that body, pretty sure Bobby doesn't want to see what you're packing in your holster."
Cas just squinted at him. "Is that a euphemism?"
"Just get dressed." Getting to his feet, Cas stretched his arms over his head and cracked his neck, distracting Dean thoroughly. He was this close to tossing the clothes aside and getting Cas in bed for at least a week. Those thoughts derailed after Cas tugged on the shirt, ruffling up his hair. He was in Dean's clothes, and they looked damn good on him. If the jean cuffs needed to be rolled up a couple of times, it was nobody's business.
Cas studied the white figure on the soft, faded black shirt. "It's a fallen angel," he commented.
Dean tilted his head from side to side, indicating both yes and no. "Ish? He's the Swan Song record label's mascot, not Zepp's, but over time he became synonymous with the band."
"Does he have a name?"
Dean huffed a laugh as he ran a hand through his hair, spiking it up. "Icarus."
Cas looked Dean dead in the eyes. "I think you have a type."
Ignoring the smug smirk, Dean held out his hand and took Cas's. "Come on. Gonna introduce you to Bobby proper, get some food in you, then we'll hit up the thrift store for clothes."
Cas put on his BAMF angelic commander face. "I'll endeavor not to find any haunted clothing."
Dean laughed. When he opened the door, Sam and Gabriel almost toppled inside. "Uh, hey guys," Sam said sheepishly, rubbing his neck.
"Were you two eavesdropping," Dean demanded.
"Yep," Gabriel said shamelessly, ignoring Sam's betrayed bitchface. He slurped down the end of a neon gummy worm and snapped away the bag. "Had a bet on what you two were going to do first." He gave a crisp twenty-dollar bill to Sam. "You two are boring, F.Y.I."
"You have a credit card with infinite money on it," Dean pointed out as Sam pocketed the cash.
"Yeah, so? It's the principle of the thing."
Cas stepped in front of Dean, and Gabriel grinned in approval. "Looking good, if I say so myself. How's life without marionette strings?"
"Freeing," Cas answered honestly. "Thank you, Gabriel."
"Not that big a deal, bro. I just righted a wrong." Cas tilted his head and squinted in confusion. "In returning something you should never have lost in the first place."
"Who are you to make that call when no else in Heaven even tried?" Cas asked.
"Hello? Angel of Justice here," Gabriel ran a hand through his hair. "As someone had to go and remind me, it's what I do. Besides, I called dibs on you a long time ago, remember? I'm invested."
There were no words spoken aloud from Cas; he reached forward and hugged Gabriel.
"Alright, alright," Gabriel said, waving him away. He saluted to the trio. "Now then. I gotta hit the ol' dusty trail. If I hear from you chumps in the next eon, it'll be too soon." He paused and turned to Sam, whose face was carefully blank. Speaking in a loud, theatrical whisper, he said, "Sorry to have to leave you with the lovebirds, but I'll make it worth your while to forward any blackmail material you can get on them."
"Hey!" Dean protested.
"Oh yeah? With what?" Sam asked. Gabriel gave him the sauciest eyebrow wiggle imaginable. Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, but Dean noticed the smirk his brother wore.
"Adios, boys!" With a theatrical bow, Gabriel vanished.
"Enigmatic as always," Cas said.
Dean clapped his hands. "Come on, sandwiches, and then I'm going to enjoy my first whiskey in God knows how long."
Sam walked downstairs first, and Dean grabbed Cas's hand, held it steady.
"Just gotta tell Bobby," Dean said quietly with false bravado. He hadn't allowed himself to think what would happen if Bobby was...if he kicked them out for being…
"Dean," Cas said, gripping his hand tighter. "You can do this."
Dean walked downstairs with Cas-his tether-behind him. Cas was the literally impossible pipe that could keep Dean from getting sucked into a category five tornado (note to self, get Cas to watch Twister).
He spotted Anna in an oversized flannel (probably a loaner from Sam) on Bobby's couch drinking a tumbler of whiskey.
"Bobby," Dean said, taking a breath. "I, uh...have something to tell you-"
"Okay?" Bobby was pouring whiskey into another glass, not looking at him. When Dean couldn't speak for a moment, he sighed. "You don't need to make a production out of it, Dean," Bobby said simply, glancing up at him. "What?"
Finding his voice suddenly gone, Dean just held up his and Cas's entwined hands. There was silence in the room as everyone waited for the old hunter's reaction.
Cas, even without his battery at full power, was stoic and unwavering as Bobby slowly walked up to Dean, who couldn't meet his eyes, couldn't risk a glance upwards because he knew he wouldn't be able to handle Bobby calling him disgusting or a-
"This a foxhole thing or something more?"
It was a simple question, no emotion in it. Dean couldn't tell what Bobby was thinking. He did recognize that it was an out-all Dean had to do was grab it.
Instead, he croaked out, "More."
Bobby's eyes flickered over Dean, then met Cas's gaze. Cas stood tall and stared defiantly back. Bobby cleared his throat. "Well then, I'm legally obligated to let you know I have various ways in which to cause you boldly harm, kill you, and then bury you in the back forty if you hurt him. Broken hearts aside. That I ain't getting in the middle of." He patted a stunned Cas's shoulder, then walked toward the kitchen.
Sam looked at Dean, both with mouths agape. Cas squinted hard, processing Bobby's words. "Why did he threaten me?"
"Wasn't a threat," Dean said on a sharp exhale. "That was his blessing."
"Oh." Now Cas grinned, gripping his hand tighter.
Anna stiffly rose to her feet and held out her hand to Cas. "Welcome to humanity."
Cas studied her for a moment, then reached past her hand and hugged her. Though startled, Anna returned it.
"Glad to see you make it. Both of you," she said.
"Thank you. For everything," Cas said, glancing in Dean's direction. "What will you do now?"
Anna shrugged and pushed his hair from her face. "Dunno. But I have to catch a bus at the station in town in a little while. So, I'll be out of your hair in a minute."
She pulled Dean into a quick hug. "Take care of him, and remember that he's new at this," she whispered in his ear. Dean nodded.
"Do you need a lift?"
"Already on it," Bobby said loudly. "Gotta hit the store for dinner supplies, anyways. How you boys feel 'bout pot roast?"
Both Sam and Dean groaned happily. "Absofuckinglutely, Bobby," Dean said excitedly.
"He makes the best pot roast, Cas. Just trust us," Sam agreed.
"I already do," Cas promised.
Anna grabbed a mint-condition hunter's duffel and flung it over her shoulder, following Bobby to his car. As they drove away, Dean witnessed the spectacular sunset starting outside. "Hey, grab some beers and come out here."
On the front porch steps, Sam splayed out as he took a swig from his beer bottle, and next to him, Dean folded up his bowed legs so Cas could sit between them, one step down. The silence was comfortable as they watched the beautiful show in the sky over the junkyard.
"Thanks, bitch," Dean said out of nowhere. A glance was all that was needed for Sam to be on the same page.
"You're welcome, jerk." Sam took a long swallow. "So, what do we do now?"
For once, Dean didn't know, and it was terrific. "Far as I see it, we can do whatever we want, Sammy. We've earned it." The brothers raised their beers, and Dean motioned for Cas to follow along. Three glass bottles clinked in unison.
Cas's warm, gummy smile was infectious, spreading to Sam too. Dean felt himself grinning stupidly, and he couldn't be bothered to care. Sam and Cas were alive, safe, and by his side.
Cas was no longer a ghost in this world, and Dean was no longer the haunted house he was trapped in.
They were all free.
Dean breathed deeper than he had in years, dropped his shoulders, and exhaled.
The sky faded from the explosion of golds and pinks to soft violets and indigos as dusk befell them. It felt like a quiet goodbye, though to what, Dean didn't know.
Dean began humming under his breath. Cas watched him curiously. "I don't know that one."
After a few more bars, Sam lowered his beer, brows furrowed. "More Metallica?"
Dean gave them his trademark, lop-sided grin. "For some reason, I'm in a Kansas mood."
END