Chapter 47.
Dean went for a shower, leaving Anael, who didn't need to shower, but would effortlessly remain celestially clean and fragrant, regardless of circumstances, to precede him to what he now thought of as their room. It felt good to think of it that way, not at all like a surrender o the tides of fortune.
There had been a temptation, of course, to invite her o share the shower and she would know what he meant and would agree. He could entangle himself again in those lithe limbs, that luxurious hair and it would seem spontaneous and not like he had been thinking about it all night.
It might seem, even to his younger self, that he had chosen less, but it was honestly the case that he wanted more. Their motel room passion had been incredible, but the act of lying down beside her, in passionless peace and letting himself be soft and vulnerable and exposed in ways he had never dared to be before was something powerful and profound.
He washed thoroughly, needing somehow to go into her presence in a purified state, not because he felt any shame about their motel night, beyond that of not having considered just how innocent and fragile angels could be, but because she was special. It wasn't even because she was an angel. He had no great regard for celestials. She was special because her smile was like golden sunlight on a November morning and because she was impossibly beautiful, but mostly because she had somehow found it in her heart to love him when he had done nothing to deserve it. She was sacred to him purely because she was Anael.
It was a vessel she wore, that fine body with the sunrise smile. It was somebody else before she had full possession and he hated angels using humans like that and that feeling had not changed. When he looked at her, though, he never saw poor Jo, who had given herself to an angel to save her husband. He saw Anael and her alone. He had tried for so long to keep it clear in his head that she was not that body, that her vibrant beauty was just a costume she wore, a borrowed disguise that she had never bothered to return, but it was hopeless. In the night, when he had woken to see her eyes wide open and watching him, he hadn't cared that she had not been born into that shape and identity. She was Anael to him.
When he got to their room, she was lying on the bed, looking more relaxed than he had expected. He knew his failings as a partner and in this relationship more than any other, they had been on full display.
He had done little to offer her security or make her feel loved and he was aware that, even now, he was consciously trying to hold the balance of power in the relationship. It wasn't that he wanted power over her, the idea was offensive to him on every level. It was simply that he could not let himself give control of his life to someone else, even someone he desperately wanted too put at the centre of it.
She lifted her head from the pillow and said, "Hmm, you smell good."
"Stole some of Sam's stash of orange blossom and argan oil." he explained.
"Why not just buy your own?" she said.
He got onto the bed beside her, loving the way she snuggled closer, her hand coming to rest on his robe, once more drawing the ache of past sorrows out of his chest, as if her celestial powers were mending his broken heart. But Anael was not using any powers. It was enough that she was who she was. "Where's the fun in that?" he said and she chuckled in a way that warmed him to his cold and brittle soul.
He must have been smiling at her, because she smiled back and said, "Are you happy?"
He had to think about that for a moment. Happiness was not usually his area of expertise. He wasn't sure how to quantify it, when it went beyond the pie for supper level and especially when it reached the level of lying wrapped in the loving embrace of a beautiful woman ... angel who seemed willing to overlook all of the, for wnt of a better word, Deanness of him.
"Honestly," he said, "I can't remember a time when I was happier. It's all coming together. Sam has Eileen and now a future kid to be excited for, Cas has Jules, Charlie has Lydia and I ... " He looked into her eyes, uncertain how or even if to finish that sentence. She was waiting patiently for him to do so, curious, but not demanding. "I," he said, "Somehow have you. Pretty unexpected. Never expected to fall for n angel." he grinned, though it was not entirely a joke when he said, "Generally, things go the other way."
"Oh, I fell long before I met you." she said, "Rebelled, argued, consorted with demons. Well, demon and not so much consorted but ..."
"Made use of?" said Dean.
"I know you don't approve."
"No, it was Ruby, we're all good."
"So, you've fallen for an angel?" she said.
"Don't go getting all big-headed about it," he said, "Could have been any angel. Any angel as gorgeous and funny and ... human as you."
"Don't say these things out of kindness."
"I'm not. I wouldn't."
She kissed him sweetly on the lips, but then quckly backed off. "Sorry." she said.
"You don't need to apologise for a kiss." he said.
"I swear, I'm trying to keep within the rules, but it's not easy, when you say sweet things." She grinned and added, "Fortunately, you don't do it often,"
"True." he admtted regretfully. He gently drew her closer and kissed her tenderly, wishing he could better communicate the things he was feeling, confessing his need for her without feeling too needy, expressing his love without losing his nerve and without that voice from the past saing, "Whatever you love, you'll lose."
He kissed her again. "You see?" he said, as much to himself as her, "Kissing's okay."
They continued kissing for some time and it didn't feel awkward or weird or too much or not enough. It felt easy and natural and again he found himself arguing with past assumptions. Why couldn't he have this?
The answers came thick and fast. "You're weak. You're worthless. You tortured souls in Hell and liked it. You let your mother die and how many people have died for you now? How many angels have fallen? And still ypu want more."
"Could I ask you a question?" he said.
"Isn't that one?" she said.
"I mean a real one, a serious one."
"Of course you can." Anael assured him.
"Why me?" he said, "Why, when you could have anyone, would you attach yourself to me? You know what I am. You know what I've done. You're not dumb enough to think I deserve you."
She stroked his cheek and he closed his eyes to savour the sensation. Such a warm, caring gesture, a human one, unusual in celestials. He had just reminded her of his crimes and she responded with love.
"You know the hardest thing after leaving Heaven?" she said softly.
"Dodging all your psychotic brothers and sisters?" he suggested, opening his eyes.
"No, that was pretty simple, because the average angel is as dumb as a spoon."
He laughed.
"What?" she said.
"Dumb as a spoon!" he said, "I love the things you say."
"You'd love the things I do, if you let me do any of them."
"Yeah, I know I would. I did. Look, this isn't permanent."
"It isn't?"
"No, I'm human. Sooner or later ... but I still need to straighten things out in my head."
"I understand. And that was the hardest thing that I was talking about, straightening things out, finding out who I was when nobody else was telling me what to be, when all the commands and demands went away."
"Yeah, I can see that would be hard." He began to play with a strand of her hair.
"And you're the same. We've both spent so long in service to others, trying to satisfy their demands and solve their problems that we don't know who we are or what we want, which is ironic, in your case."
"Why?" he said.
"Because, in other ways, you have the strongest sense of self I've ever seen."
"You mean I'm selfish?" He knew it to be true.
"Not at all," she said, "I mean that you know your values and beliefs and ethics and you never deviate from them."
"No, I've deviated." he said.
"You're you and you always will be. Always human, always superhuman. There were good reasons why I chose you to teach me humanity."
He stared at her in surprise. "I didn't realise you had." he said.
"If I'd told you, you'd have been way too self-conscious." she said, "You taught Cas without needing to be asked."
"I get that even less than the other thing." he said, "I'm not such a great role model."
"I think Sam would argue with that," she said, "And I certainly would."
He reached out to touch her face, his fingers tracing the fine features she had inherited from her human vessel, but looking at her, touching the cool flesh of her face, he saw no shadow of a stranger. The cheek he touched, the brow he stroked were wholly Anael.