Warmth. Softness. Light.

xxxxx

Dean, of course, had known from the moment he'd started to have feelings for her that he might lose Piper. He wasn't stupid, they were hunters, it was always going to end in blood. At some point in the future, one of them would have to figure out how to live without the other.

But that was supposed to be in the future. We didn't have enough time, Dean thought hysterically as he sat at his wife's bedside. He hadn't gotten to see her pretty face curve into well-loved laugh lines, or watch her hair get a striking streak of grey. He hadn't gotten to pretend not to notice as she rolled her eyes when he bitched about getting older.

There just hadn't been enough time.

xxxxx

It reminded her very much of the white bedroom she used to go to.

xxxxx

Cass, please, I'm begging you. It's for Piper. Please.

Dean would never be able to remember what had happened, exactly, between Death depositing him in Bobby's panic room and gently setting Piper on their bed. He knew that his knuckles were bloody and his hands ached, sending pain radiating all the way up to his elbows. He surmised that it had gotten rather violent.

He didn't care. It didn't matter. So few things mattered to Dean just then.

Piper's pulse, which was weak but steady. Checking Piper's wound and keeping it clean. Making Piper as comfortable as possible.

The fact that, two days later, Piper hadn't woken up yet.

Dean knew that, if he didn't get an answer from Piper's angelic best friend (he refused to acknowledge Castiel as his own friend just then), he would have to take her to the hospital. The only reason he was waiting was because he didn't want to answer their questions. He wouldn't be able to answer their questions.

What happened? Why is her wound stitched already? Why did you wait so long to bring her in?

There were no answers to those questions that wouldn't land him in jail. If he was in jail, he couldn't be with Piper, and he would put that off as long as possible.

xxxxx

It was easy to stay there, basking in the serenity.

She knew she could choose to move forward, into an unknown, or backward, into a place where anguish and devotion somehow walked hand in hand.

xxxxx

Sam watched through the open bedroom door as Dean kept his motionless vigil over Piper. His brother had barely moved from his place, holding Piper's hand and watching her with hollow eyes. He'd really only disturbed the strange stillness to check the gash on her head or her pulse.

It was fucking terrifying.

Two days before, Sam had woken up in the panic room at Bobby's. His confusion had quickly taken a backseat to elation when he'd laid eyes on Bobby, but had faded back into uneasiness when his surrogate father had been stiff and awkward. He'd also been incredibly unforthcoming when it had come to answering the multitudes of questions that Sam had. It was off-putting, especially since Bobby hadn't warmed up in the time since, either.

Dean, in the same vein, had spoken less than ten words since Sam had come up from the basement. He mostly answered in grunts or head shakes, rarely taking his eyes off of Piper. He'd greeted Sam's return from hell with a distracted clap on the shoulder.

That, more than anything else, told Sam that something more was going on.

Bobby had told him in hushed tones that a hunt had gone bad, and that was why Piper was lying on the bed, pale and horrifically still. Dean had agreed with another grunt.

Sam didn't buy it for a goddamn second. Something had happened. Worse yet, he was starting to suspect that whatever they had done to bring him back had gotten Piper hurt.

Bobby had found a case of girls going missing. Dean had shown absolutely no interest in going, which didn't surprise anyone, but Bobby wasn't going, either, which almost shocked Sam. The older hunter had always been willing to provide backup if one of them was going to hunt alone. Now, however, it was like he didn't want to… What? Be alone with Sam? That made no sense.

Unless it was Sam's fault that Piper was bedridden, possibly dying.

Bobby was still strict about hunting in pairs, though, so when Sam decided to go ahead and take the case, he arranged for Garth to meet Sam there. Sam didn't mind Garth, skinny and weird though he may have been, but he had never been so acutely grateful for the other hunter.

Because for all that Garth was smart, resourceful, and a good hunter, he had another extremely important quality.

Garth was a goddamn pansy when it came to liquor.

xxxxx

During those two days, Dean thought about a lot of things.

He thought about the way Piper had looked on their wedding day. She'd been radiant, beaming up at him in her pretty dress and her hair clouding around her face and her glowing eyes. God, he'd loved her so much that day, and it had just grown the longer they'd been together.

He thought about the way she was with Sam. The way she made them both be better men, the way she smoothed things over and nipped their fights in the bud before they got too bad. The way she stuck with them, the way it had never been a question in her mind to leave them. Piper had been there damn near from the beginning, and she'd intended to stay.

But mostly, surprisingly enough, he thought about John Winchester.

Dean didn't think about his father very often. When he did, it was always with an uneasy mix of adoration and resentment. It confused and bothered him to do so, so he avoided thoughts about the man as much as possible.

What he thought about as he sat at his wife's bedside (deathbed) was the night he'd first kissed Piper, the Christmas just before he'd turned nineteen. The way her lithe, soft body had pressed against him, her lips moving against his, the desperate little whimpers that had driven him crazy.

The way his father had, in not so many words, told him that she was too good for him.

Dean had resented that for a long time, especially after he and Piper had finally become an item. Piper had certainly thought he was good enough, and she'd had the best seat in the house to make the call, hadn't she? Fuck you, Dad. She loves me, and I love her.

But as he held her still hand and watched her slow, rhythmic breathing, Dean thought maybe he understood now, what his father had meant.

It didn't matter that Dean loved her, or that she loved him, or that she was the best damn thing that had ever happened to him. What mattered was that Dean wasn't driven by what other men were driven by. He was driven by revenge, by violence, by world-ending, apocalyptic bullshit. And she was always, always going to be caught up in it.

He was sitting next to her bed, her delicate hand pressed to his forehead, breathing hard. I'm so sorry, kitten, he thought mournfully. It's all my fault. It's always all my fault, fuck, I'm so-

His thoughts were cut off by the sound of wings.

Dean stood and turned, his heart pounding in his chest as he looked for Cass, although he wasn't sure if he wanted to hug him for being there or wring his neck for taking so long.

It was a moot point, because Castiel was not the angel who had appeared in their bedroom.

Dean frowned. "Who the fuck are you?"

The petite, dark-haired woman blinked. "My name is Afriel. Castiel sent me to heal his friend, Piper Winchester."

"Well, where the hell is he?"

Afriel's face hardened. "As much as it may surprise you, Castiel is not at your beck and call. Do you understand that he is running an army? That he is fighting for humanity? He does not have time to come down to earth every time you get yourself in a mess."

Dean let his face remain impassive, but winced internally. Dammit. He really hadn't wanted to piss the angel off, especially since it looked like he really needed her, but he was terrified for Cass, and for Piper.

God dammit, Pipes is so much better at this.

"Look, I get it, I do," he said roughly, running a hand down his face. "I'm sorry, it's just been a shit couple of days." He turned to look at Piper on the bed, and his throat constricted around his next words. "Can… Can you help her?" His voice was raw, even in his own ears.

When he turned back to her, Afriel's face had softened a fraction. She nodded. "Of course I can." She stepped around him to stand next to the bed. She examined the prone woman for a moment, then leaned down and pressed her hand to Piper's forehead.

xxxxx

"Piper? Piper, can you hear me?"

She turned around, trying to locate the source of the soft voice. She sensed that the choice of whether to stay or go was about to be taken away from her. "Hello?"

"Piper, you're coming with me."

She thought for a moment about arguing, but the voice's next words stopped that train of thought immediately.

"Dean has been waiting for you."

xxxxx

Afriel straightened and met Dean's eyes. "She will awaken soon. I let her sleep a bit more."

There wouldn't be any actual relief for Dean until Piper woke up for real, but he relaxed a fraction. "Uh, thank you," he said softly.

Afriel looked back down at Piper. "She really is quite extraordinary, you know. The way she pulled you, Sam, and herself out of Zachariah's machinations still invites speculation among angels."

Dean's eyebrows rose. "That, uh... Everyone knows about that?"

Afriel nodded. "It sent an immense wave of power through heaven. It would have been difficult to hide it." She thought for a moment. "A bit like an earthquake."

Dean frowned. "Okay, well, what does that mean?"

Afriel smiled. "Nothing negative. It means that the two of you are soulmates, bound by the dictates of heaven, up to the point of defying that same heaven. It is… Rather rare, that true soulmates find one another. We cannot help that you fascinate us."

Dean felt himself begin to scowl. "Yeah, well, forgive me if I'm not thrilled that we're still the subject of angelic interest."

Afriel paused, then nodded. "That is reasonable."

xxxxx

Two hours later, Dean watched his wife's eyes flutter open, and things he hadn't realized had been cloaked in darkness lit up bright inside him.

She slowly turned her head, smiling when her gaze met his. "Hey, handsome."

He had to try twice before he could speak. "Hi, kitten." He frowned and stood to put his hands gently on her shoulders when she tried to sit up. "Hey, hey, hey, come on, Pipes, take it easy, yeah?"

She submitted easily, but fisted one of her hands in his shirt collar to pull him down beside her. "Then come make me," she said softly, scooting to make room for him on the bed.

Dean fought himself for approximately half of a second before he gave in, gently arranging himself around her, then pulling her close to bury his face in her hair. "Jesus Christ, Pipes, I'm so sorry, baby-"

"You know," she said thoughtfully, "there's a lot of self flagellation going on over there, and I'm really more interested in the cuddling happening."

Dean paused, then huffed out a laugh and clung to her unashamedly, savoring the sharp points of her nails digging into his back as she held on just as hard. "Love you," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair. "Scared me."

She nodded against him. "Me, too, both counts."

Dean held her as she fell back asleep, and then finally, finally let himself do the same.

xxxxx

Hi, beautiful readers! Here are my notes:
I own only Piper Finley, the original character. I don't own Supernatural or any of the characters. (heartbroken).
Reviews, comments, and kudos give me life and keep me going.
And, as always, thank you for reading, you beautiful, beautiful people.

**What I want to say to you: I'm feeling great! Everything has evened out, I'm a thousand percent happy, I am BRIMMING with ideas for this story and for new ones, updates will be regular from now on.

**What the truth is: I'm doing okay but not great. I've realized I need to go back to therapy, which blows, but I'm going to go. I have approximately 4 ideas for this story and the other 4 that I'm writing. I'm a mess, but I'm going to try really fucking hard not to go a month between updates next time. Thanks for sticking with me.

**I'm sorry that I haven't been responding to messages. They just got lost in the debris that is/was my mental health. I'll do better.

**Sorry for the short chapter, idk what the fuck was up, but this chapter fought me super, super hard.