Epilogue

Way after midnight, Sam finally excused himself and headed to bed, leaving Dean and Castiel to be the only ones left in the living room. Encouraged by his big brother, the seraph had shed his suit jacket and tie. Now he leaned in the corner of the couch, Dean resting against him, his legs pulled up on the seat. The hunter idly played with his tumbler before he downed the rest of his scotch. They sat like this for quite a while and Castiel began to feel comfortable.

"I'd love to see them, you know," Dean suddenly said with a hint of jealousy.

"What do you mean?"

"Your wings," Dean sighed. "Crowley could see them, right? He called you all plumed up."

Quirking a brow, Castiel had to admit he was right.

"Yes, Dean. He can perceive my angelic grace just like I can perceive that he's a demon."

Dean sighed.

"I wish I could see your true form. I'd love to know what you really look like."

"Believe me, it's not as spectacular as you seem to think," Castiel softly told him, strangely finding his hand trail from the backrest to Dean's shoulder.

"Maybe not for angels," Dean shrugged which pushed him against Castiel. Somehow he liked that. "I get, though, why you don't want to burn my eyes out. Actually, I like my eyes. I want to keep them."

"Good."

Taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly, Dean prodded, "I'm still overwhelmed by what Amara did. She... well, she said she wanted to give me something akin to what I did for her. I suspected it was about my family. Dad. Or mom. But..." fighting a lump in his throat, Dean confessed, "she gave me the people I call family. All the friends who fought and bled with us. It's more than I could ever hope for. More... more than I deserve."

"You deserve all the happiness in the world, Dean Winchester," Castiel earnestly told him.

Dean chuckled.

"Cass, did she tell you to tell me that?"

"No," the seraph replied. "I'm serious. You deserved this gift. Are you happy, Dean?"

Taking a moment to contemplate that, Dean nodded.

"Yes. Yes, I think I am happy." Coming back to his original subject, he said, "I'd be even happier if I could see your true self. When we've first met, you pulled off that light show and cast the shadows of your wings on the warehouse walls... Why aren't they visible anyway?"

"Well," the angel murmured, "that's got to do with my current appearance. While I'm in a vessel, my wings are on another pane of existence. You can only see the shadows my grace casts of them."

"And if you tried to change that, you'd burn my eyes?"

Contemplating the question, Castiel hesitated.

"I never considered trying to align my wings with my vessel," he finally explained. "I don't know if that's possible. Sure might take an effort."

Dean sat up, turning around to look at Castiel.

"Are you considering it now?"

"No."

Huffing, Dean elaborated, "Could you give it a try for me?"

"The consideration or actually attempting it?"

"Cass..."

His long-suffering groan resulted in Castiel doing his head thing, cocking it to the side and giving the hunter that look of utter confusion. Dean groaned all over again with frustration and jumped when the angel stood so suddenly that he could feel a slight draft. Still, he did not intend to stop the seraph from crossing to the space between dining and sitting area. Biting back any comment, Dean tensed expectantly.

The bright shine of Castiel's grace was familiar to him as were the shadows of the wings. Even those were a spectacular sight as they now were fully feathered. Dean felt his mouth go dry, though, when he watched the air around his angel beginning to blur. At first, the effect appeared like that of a mirage. Seeing Castiel close his eyes with the effort, Dean suspected that he would not make it.

Consequently, he was all the more taken aback when he heard the distinct flutter of feathers and two gusts of wind washed over him.

Wide-eyed and gaping, Dean stared at his friend. In his wildest dreams, he could not have imagined what he saw. A couple of times, he tried to speak, but all he managed was a poor imitation of a fish gasping for air on dry land.

"Magnificent," it finally burst out of him.

Castiel smiled.

To Dean, that smile was the most wonderful thing he ever saw. Aside from the wings that spread from Castiel's back and eluded all his attempts to find words for them.

Magically drawn in, he stepped forward and lifted his hand. For a moment, he hesitated, but as Castiel did not object, he reached out and tried to touch the unearthly wings. Stunned, he found that they felt like actual feathers. So he let his hand run along one of the giant flight feathers. His other hand came up to bury his fingers in the softer, shorter plumage at the top of the wing. Curling his fingers, he ruffled them a little.

Castiel moaned.

Grinning madly, Dean did it again.

"You should stop that," Castiel hoarsely declared.

"Why?" Dean asked with a mischievous grin, looking around at his angel. Standing so close, he could see fluffy plumage along his neck. Unable to just ignore that fact, he reached out for it and let his fingers run over them.

Castiel closed his eyes.

"Is that good?" Dean teased.

"You really should stop that."

"You're repeating yourself," Dean chuckled, once more caressing the feathered neck. Hell, is that sexy!

Startled by his thought, Dean swallowed a lump in his throat.

"I told you, you should stop," Castiel snarled, the guttural sound far from angry but filled with lust.

All of a sudden, Dean felt himself wrapped in arms and wings, uncertain whether he still stood on solid ground. Not caring, he reached up to curl his fingers in Castiel's hair and pull him into a kiss. Moaning against the angel's lips, Dean reveled in the soft touch, but only when the seraph kissed him back and his world dissolved in fierce emotions.

With the flutter of wings, they both were gone.