Three years ago...
Castiel heard the low sound of what he identified as a ringing phone, but he made no attempt to answer it. Even had he wanted to, the arm coiled tightly around his chest made moving difficult if not impossible. He didn't mind. The room was dark, the bed warm and comfortable, but overall there was this sense of peace. Contentment. Not too long ago, Castiel would not have been able to imagine himself enjoying these feelings. To identify, let alone understand, what they meant. And it was all thanks to one man.
Castiel burrowed his head deeper into the pillow, disregarding the slight lump beneath it as he closed his eyes. He recalled the previous day's events, the surprise at seeing Dean had personally come to pick him up. His having to remain silent during Dean's clever, elaborate tale explaining who Cas was and why he had been on that shrimping boat ("We had one hell of a bender, let me tell you. Bachelor party.") His overall happiness he wasn't alone in this strange place anymore.
They hadn't spoken much at the time. Well, nothing beyond Dean inquiring about his injuries or explaining what he, Sam and Bobby had been up to. It had started as a pretty straightforward visit; one concerned friend seeing to another. This was in evidence by the gentle way Dean assisted Castiel into the wheelchair, his careful maneuvering of the chair down the halls. The arm he had put about Cas's shoulders had been supportive, tender even, as he eased him into the car. Cas remembered mumbling a thank you to Dean before he drifted to sleep thanks to the medication.
His next memory was of him waking up in bed in a motel. He had no idea how much time had passed. The only thing that seemed to matter to him at all was seeing Dean sitting on the bed across from him, his hands folded between his knees. The look on Dean's face was hard to identify. It was with a slight start that Cas understood this was the first time they spoke face to face since Van Nuys. Seeing what his words had done to him prompted Cas to apologize again.
"I'm so sorry, Dean," he murmured. "I didn't realize-"
"Cas." There was a note of command in his voice. "You already apologized. And you were right. I deserved it. I needed to hear it. When that bastard Zachariah hurt Adam and Sam, and I saw Sammy's face, I couldn't stop thinking about what you said. About what Bobby said. There was no way in hell I was letting them win. So I did what I had to. End of story. Now," he went on, rising to take a seat beside Cas. He gazed down at him for some time.
"You gotta promise me something," he said at last.
Castiel didn't miss the way his tone softened. "What is it?"
For a moment it looked as if Dean struggled with what he was about to say. His throat flashed as he swallowed, and he drew in a deep breath. "The next time you decide to go kamikaze on me, tell me first, or else I might have to drag your ass into an alley and beat you down." He laid a firm hand on Cas's shoulder, squeezed it. "You scared the hell out of me back there, Cas. When you went into that building, I didn't think I'd see you again."
Cas almost revealed that he had never intended on coming out, held back. He couldn't say such a thing, not when Dean gazed down at him like that. It was as poignant as the look they had shared the night before they tracked down Raphael's vessel.
So swept up by this revelation, and the incredible emotion behind it, Castiel recalled a moment very similar to this in a movie he had watched while in the hospital. It was what drove him to sit up, to reach for Dean's face. When Cas's hand cupped his cheek, he could feel the rough stubble against his palm. Felt Dean's body lean forward when Cas pressed a soft, gentle kiss on his mouth, felt him respond just as softly.
After Cas had drawn back to look into Dean's eyes he was met with a tiny, surprised smile. "...wow. Where did that come from?"
"I saw it in a movie," Cas admitted. "It seemed the appropriate response given the circumstances."
At this Dean chuckled lightly. But his eyes and smile were warm. "Yeah. Yeah it was. And so's this," he said, and, upon taking hold of Cas's face, drew it to his for another kiss.
The prolonged contact sent little pulses of warmth up and down Cas's body, reminding him again of his weakened state but also the joy to be had in feeling them. He wasn't aware that Dean had coaxed him back down until he felt his head sink into the pillow. The kiss had deepened, become a little more urgent, and Cas was sure it was with some reluctance that Dean finally drew away to rest his head on Castiel's chest.
As he felt Dean's arms gently slide under him, Cas mirrored the action by encircling his shoulders. He had just closed his eyes when he heard Dean whisper, "I won't let you down again, Cas."
Castiel smiled sleepily as the last of the memory retreated. Sounds had begun to drift into a distant echo, leaving nothing but the subtle intake of his breathing, of Dean's. The spell of sleep started to creep up on him again, and, as the arm around him tightened, he exhaled slowly and prepared to let himself go.
He must have been asleep for only a few minutes before he heard the phone ring again. There was a sleepy groan at his back, followed by a muttered curse. Cas lifted his head, just in time to feel Dean's arm graze his chin as he fumbled for the bedside table.
Partially leaning over Cas now, Dean took up the phone, pressed a button and put it to his ear.
"...yeah, talk to me," he said, his voice still groggy from sleep.
"Dean?" Cas recognized Sam's voice on the other line. "Where are you?"
"Where do you think I am? A motel," he grumbled, sitting up and turning away. Castiel did the same; at seeing Dean had grabbed the jeans piled at the edge of the bed he deemed it appropriate to also dress. He winced slightly, for the medication had worn off. He fumbled for the small bottle of pills on the bedside table, as well as the glass of water Dean had left there for him. The presence of the first aid kit served to further remind him of his fragile physical state.
"I know," Dean was saying, a touch of impatience in his tone. He stood to draw the jeans up over his hips. "Hey, Cas was in no condition for a long car ride. I owed him at least a good night's sleep in a bed that wasn't in a hospital. Right. We'll be there ASAP." He hung up and dropped the phone onto the bed. When he turned round, he took in Cas's appearance. "How you feeling?"
Castiel drew on the white dress shirt, started to button it. "Hungry."
"That makes two of us." Dean rounded the bed to stand before him. He took over the buttoning of his shirt, his fingers quick and agile. "We'll just hit up a drive through on the way back to Bobby's. Got no time to stop and smell the roses."
As usual, Dean's slipping into human metaphors confused him. "What does hitting a drive through have to do with smelling roses?"
Dean paused for a moment, then laughed and shook his head. "Nothing. It's just- never mind," he said, leaning over to pick up Cas's tie. "You got this? I'm gonna take a quick shower."
The angel nodded, though in truth he had not quite mastered wearing the tie correctly. "Dean," he said as he picked up the little brown bag set on the dresser. "Thank you for coming to get me," he said, smiling a little. "I might not be much help with finding Pestilence, but I-"
"Cas," Dean interrupted, using the tone that indicated there was a lot of emotion he was trying to hold back. "Angel mojo or not, I'm just glad you're back."
With that, he disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Cas looking after him, the tie draped in his hands.
An hour later the two were on the road, a paper bag sitting between them. Castiel had devoured two of the three breakfast sandwiches- much to Dean's amusement- and the hash browns- much to Dean's dismay- before easing back in the seat. He watched the scenery fly by, squinting slightly as the sun's brightness hampered his vision. The radio played a song that had Dean rhythmically tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. Every now and then his humming would turn to a few sung phrases before reverting to humming. Cas glanced over at him, seeing just how the song affected Dean. There was a glow about his face, as if all that weighed him down was stripped away. A similar glow existed in his soul, which had shone so brightly that Castiel could see it even in the deepest part of Hell. He experienced a brief pang of sorrow at the loss of seeing that soul shine.
At feeling Cas's eyes on him Dean looked over. "What's wrong? Feeling okay?"
His response was automatic. "Physically I'm still sore, and that bug bite hasn't stopped itching even after the cream you gave me. The pain pills have taken the edge off. I enjoyed the breakfast sandwiches."
Dean smirked. "That's not what I meant."
Cas tilted his head. "You were referring to my feelings?"
"Yeah. You looked sad for a second back there."
He averted his gaze. "Yes. I suppose I was."
Dean waited. "Well?" he prompted. "What is it?"
Castiel looked at his hands. Noticed the few scratches on his fingers had started to heal. "When I had my powers, I could...see things. In nature, in places, and in- in people. I was missing it. That's all."
"Do you think you'll get your mojo back?" Dean asked softly.
"It's difficult to say. I've never had all my energy drained before. I'm...adjusting I suppose."
He glimpsed Dean's partial smile in his peripheral. He muttered something under his breath; Cas could only understand 'the other night' before he questioned Dean about it.
A brief look of embarrassment crossed his face. "Nothing," Dean said swiftly, smiling as he rummaged through the box of cassette tapes next to the paper bag. "Anyway, I got just the cure for you."
Cas watched him inject the tape into the radio and raise the volume. "What is it?" he asked, then jumped slightly as the opening riff of a song echoed through the car.
Dean grinned and started to sing along, his hands drumming on the steering wheel. "Come on, Cas," he said at the song's first musical interlude. "You gotta know this song. You ready?"
"I don't understand, ready for what?" Cas asked, feeling both nervous and uncertain, far more than that night in Maine.
Dean only smiled and resumed singing, all the while gesturing for Cas to join him.
What began as a halting attempt at speaking along with the lyrics (with predictable grimaces from Dean) soon turned into a passable duet. And, in between gales of laughter and teasing remarks for his less-than-stellar singing voice ("I'm not of the choir, Dean; I was never meant to sing,") Castiel began to feel his sadness lift. He met Dean's eyes as they sang together, smiling as he did, saw as much as sensed the warmth, the joy, in his face. It was then he realized he had never needed his angelic powers to see the glow of Dean Winchester's soul. It was something he'd always see. Perhaps something he'd always been meant to see. And it made him happy.
"Castiel?"
At hearing his name Castiel woke with a start. It took him a moment to register he had fallen asleep in the chair beside the sofa, that the brightness outside indicated it was morning. Dean was still fast asleep, one arm flung over his head, the other dragging on the floor. At hearing the door open Castiel acted swiftly. He jumped up, snatched the sheet draped over the edge of the sofa and spread it over Dean. The material had just settled on his body when Balthazar strolled in.
"And another fine morning to you," he greeted cheerfully. He had a tray in one hand, a wine bottle in the other. "Ready to start another fun-filled day working for the King of Hell?" Balthazar paused, his gaze going from the empty bed to Cas, who stood behind the sofa. His brow lifted at seeing Dean. "Late night rendezvous?"
Castiel's throat went dry, and he swallowed. He knew that it was vital to get Balthazar's help if they were to obtain Gabriel's horn, but he experienced a brief want to keep Dean secret. In the three years they had been together, Balthazar had made it no secret that he believed Castiel's association with the Winchesters was anything but good. Dean in particular.
Knowing he needed time to properly introduce Balthazar to this circumstance, Cas gave a shrug. "Yeah. He was too drunk to go home. I'll get him out of here. We'll have breakfast when I return."
"Now, hold on just a second there," Balthazar said, setting the items down and approaching the sofa just as Castiel went to turn. There was interest in Balthazar's eyes, plus something else. Something that made Cas wary. When he saw where Balthazar's gaze rested, Cas understood.
The corner of the sheet had slipped, exposing Dean's face.
He tensed. "Balthazar, wait-"
But the angel had already wrenched the blanket off and took a step back. He immediately sought his back pocket, producing a white crystal Castiel recognized. In response he inserted himself in front of Dean, a hand out.
"Don't," he warned in a low voice.
"Don't what?"
The threat to Dean dredged up feelings of his former, wholly angelic self. "Listen to me," Cas began. "This isn't Michael. It's Dean." He heard the longing in his voice as he spoke the name, shook himself. "But he's not from here."
Balthazar lifted a brow. "What is he then, from the future? The past?" Alarm, and a bit of disbelief, crossed his features. "Did you bring him here? I know you've been distraught all this time but to do this?"
The comment brought on a brief memory of a low point in Castiel's life, shortly after he regained the full use of his powers and he had debated on going back in time to stop Michael. Only the fear that he'd fail again prevented him from doing it.
"I'm nowhere near strong enough to travel through time," Cas answered with a shake of the head. "This Dean is from another reality."
To this both Balthazar's brows lifted. "A second Dean Winchester. Well, this must a dream come true for you."
Dean chose that moment to wake up; at finding two angels staring down at him he jumped. "Dammit, is this a thing you angels like to do?" he grumbled, throwing the sheet off and easing into an upright position.
"Only because it brings us endless amusement," Balthazar drawled. "Hello there, alternate reality Dean. What kind of trouble are you going to make for us?"
At realizing who was addressing him Dean gave a tight smile. "Balthazar. Not as much as you were going to make for me," he countered, gesturing at the crystal still in Balthazar's hand.
His responding grin was sarcastic as he placed it back in his pocket.
Dean's gaze went to Cas. "Did you ask him?"
"Ask me what?" Balthazar said, glancing at Castiel.
After the explanations were done Balthazar traded glances with Cas and Dean, gave a half hearted laugh and said: "You're joking, right? Cas, are you hearing this? He's talking Armageddon. Again."
"Believe me, it's the last thing I wanna do," Dean defended. He rose from the sofa and approached the tray sitting on a table. At lifting the lid to reveal a short stack he made a pleased sound before taking up the utensils. Cas glimpsed Balthazar's affronted look in his peripheral.
"The way I see it, there's no other way to fix things," Dean went on through a mouthful.
"Fix things?" Balthazar repeated, a little incredulous. "And who says they're broken?"
This time Castiel sent his friend a shocked look. "Balthazar..."
"I don't know about you two, but things have never been better as far as I'm concerned. Don't you get it?" he asked, dividing his gaze between the two. "No one cares that I made off with all those weapons; no one's at war. Think about it, Cas: when was the last time we could say that?"
"It's true, it's been a long time," Castiel conceded quietly. "But things didn't pan out the way they should have. How it was written."
"And since when do you care about that?" Balthazar scoffed. "Look at you! Look at what you did. You're what inspired me to take my own path, Castiel."
He shook his head. "But I never encouraged you to steal."
"The price for stealing isn't so high or as profitable as selling is to me," Balthazar told him. "Collectors buy them from me- human, angel, demon, and monster. The only thing they fight over is how much to pay me for it. So as to your little idea of saving this place?" He included Dean in his glance now. "You can both bite me." And with that Balthazar vanished.
Dean grunted. "That went over well. Dammit," he grumbled, throwing the fork and knife down. "I didn't think he'd agree right away. Not without some convincing anyway."
Cas eased onto the sofa, draped his hands between his knees. When Balthazar first appeared soon after his agreement with Crowley, he had believed he had come as a friend. Now, he wasn't so sure, and it hurt. "The surest way to convince Balthazar of anything is that he will be able to walk away unscathed," he sighed. "Sam's plan doesn't leave much room for that."
"Yeah well, we'll work on Balthazar later. I'm going after your Grace first. I'll feel a whole lot better knowing you're at full power. What we're going to do won't be easy."
"No. But then again, what is?"
For a moment Dean seemed taken aback. Then his brows lowered. "Hey. It's gonna work, all right?" he insisted. "Trust me."
That same conviction, that same passion, resided in Dean's eyes. Castiel pushed back the pain and betrayal the memory invoked and managed a smile.
"I trust you."
"Good." Dean's nod was firm. He resumed picking at Castiel's breakfast. "I'll finish up here and head out. You probably have, uh, things to do in the meantime. Getting ready for work, that kind of thing."
True, Castiel did have a regiment to stick to prior to the club's opening at night. Play rehearsal was one of them, as well as his daily report to Crowley. When he said as much Dean brightened.
"Perfect. I can sneak into his office while you're doing all that. We'll meet back here before your, um, shift starts. You with me?"
"Of course. But, Dean," Cas said, rising to his feet and crossing over to where he stood. Dean just finished off the last of the pancakes and was now washing it down with a glass of milk. "If it is Michael Crowley is expecting, we can't leave until I see him."
He set the glass down. "Not until you've got your Grace back," Dean stipulated. "Look, I saw what happened to yo- the Cas I know last time we tangled with an archangel," he corrected, Castiel not missing the catch in his throat. "I'm not about to let you do this without backup. Understand?"
Cas smiled, touched by just how much this Dean cared. "I understand." The echo of someone's laughter floating up the stairs reminded him of the time. "You'd better go. I have to get downstairs soon."
Dean nodded, wiped at his mouth with a napkin and hurried for the door. Cas watched as he gently pried it open to peer outside. Moments later he slipped out, softly closing it behind him.
Alone now, Castiel ventured for the bathroom to shower and change. His heartbeat raced with anticipation, and a little dread, at the prospect of seeing Michael- Dean- again. But, for good or ill, it would be worth it.