D'script.: Castiel earned his halo.

Disc.: Don't own Michael, don't own Cas, Dean, Sam. Hell, I don't believe I even own a bag of chips right now.

Love: This isn't slash, but read into it what you may.

Mini: Halo

"Hey, Cas," Dean asked lazily, one hand in a bag of chips, the other around a cool beer bottle.

Castiel looked away from the TV to acknowledge Dean. Dean kept watching the show. He found this a common habit with humans, and eventually looked back at the movie that he would never understand.

"Yes, Dean?" he replied.

"How come you don't have a halo?" he asked.

"Excuse me?"

"A halo. You know. A glowy, floaty circle above your head. Where's your halo?" Dean asked, suppressing the smirk tugging at the edge of his lips.

Sam glanced over at the hunter and angel with interest and wondered how this would end.

"My halo," Castiel repeated, and continued without contempt, "Was forfeited to come to Earth and protect you and your brother."

Dean's smirk vanished and he frowned slightly, "You gave up your halo to protect a pair of assholes?"

Sam's protest of "Hey…" went unheard.

Castiel nodded, "It was a price I was willing to pay. Do not worry."

"Will you get it back when you return?" Dean pressed.

Castiel shrugged, "Maybe. After all I've done, I'm quite surprised I still have my wings and my grace."

Dean dropped the bag of chips in Castiel's lap and set his beer down with a determined gaze, "That will not do," he declared before walking out of the hotel room.

Castiel looked at Sam, who was equally as confused as the angel, "What's wrong with Dean?" the angel asked.

Sam shrugged, "He probably just went to get another beer."

"But he has over half left here," Castiel observed astutely.

"Let's just wait and see then," Sam suggested, "I'm sure it's nothing bad."

Castiel turned his attention back to the show Dean was watching. It was John Travolta's 1996 movie, Michael. Castiel watched as his antics went past believable, his eyes widened at the pair of wings covered by a trench coat.

"Michael looks nothing like that," he remarked to no one, "Our wings look nothing like that. And he's smoking?"

Sam chuckled at that, understanding where Dean had gotten the inspiration for his question, "Cas, it's just a movie," he said, trying to pacify the angel.

"Is this how humans portray us?" Castiel turned, asking Sam with a wide, honest look in his eyes.

Sam noticed the pleading tone in Castiel's voice, which prompted his immediate, "No. Most of our movies portray angels like you, Cas. This one is just a comedy; it's not meant to be taken seriously. Relax. Change the channel if it bothers you."

Castiel looked at the remote forlornly, and decided against it. He wanted to see what people like Sam and Dean thought of him.

Dean came back, the door shutting behind him with a loud slam. He was holding one hand behind his back as he approached Castiel. Castiel looked at Dean warily, but trusted the hunter enough to stay where he was. Dean pulled a circular object from his hand and placed it on top of Castiel's head.

It was a crudely-fashioned halo, made of a metal wire and goldenrod yellow Xerox paper. Dean smiled widely, "There you go, your own halo!"

Castiel felt the makeshift halo with his fingertips and looked at Sam for his reaction. Sam was smiling too, almost on the verge of chuckling. He gave Castiel a thumbs up, a human gesture that Castiel had learned meant 'everything's good.' Dean guided Castiel to a mirror before asking;

"Sorry it's so messed up, it's all I could do in five minutes. Is it anything like the one you had?"

Castiel's lips turned upward in a smile, "It's even better."

And that's when Castiel had his most life-turning revelation. Heaven may be where he's spent his entire life, it may even be all he's ever known too; but he's never felt more at home than here with the Winchesters.

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