A/N: This is my first foray into SPN fanfic, so please be constructive/friendly in your reviews. I'm a huge Castiel fan, and I've been wanting to write something about him for some time since he gets neglected a lot on the show. I think it's time we all had a reminder what a badass he is!

Season 11 spoilers- the only thing I'm keeping out of this is 'the big reveal' at the end of season 11 because… yeah, I have no idea how to include that. Eventual Dean/Cas if I get enough encouragement to continue.

ONE:

"Couldn't we just... take a plane?" Cas mumbled, putting on his tie.

Sam nearly choked on his beer. "No. We drive everywhere because my BRAVE brother here hates planes."

"Planes crash, Sam." Dean said sternly, not looking up from the laptop.

"We have literally been in several horrific car accidents."

"And we've walked away. You don't walk away from an airplane crash." He looked up at Sam and then over to Cas. "Sorry, man. I know the backseat gets uncomfortable but-"

"You're afraid to fly?" Cas asked, cocking his head to the side like a puppy. Dean hated to admit, even to himself, that that look always got to him.

"Yes, Cas. We don't all have wings."

"He doesn't have wings-" Sam interjected- "Well, I mean. Real ones."

Cas swallowed and looked to Sam out of the corner of his eyes.

"Oh, shit! You do? How come we never see them?"

Cas shrugged. "God- well, Chuck- gave them to us for travel and to show our power to humans. We couldn't teleport until later- Chuck hadn't invented that yet, I guess. When I used to teleport, it was like using my wings, in a way. I can show them to humans if I choose, but usually they are tucked inside my vessel, along with the rest of me."

"Must be awful crowded in there."

He nodded. "It can be. As I said- my true form is roughly the size of the Chrysler Building. Jimmy is quite small." He looked down and shook out his arms. "But I can use my wings to fly short distances still. There's a lot more... flapping... involved than there was before."

"So Chuck didn't give you a tune up before he left?" Dean asked, rising to his feet, certainly trying to change the subject.

"Sort of. He healed my vessel and I've retained my grace, but I'm still human, too. I am sorry to say we didn't get the have the father-son bonding I had hoped for."

"I'm sorry," Sam said quietly. "I know how long you'd looked for him."

Cas sighed. "Yes. But now I know he exists. It may take another few millennia, but I'm sure we'll get to talk things out. Look how long Lucifer had to wait." He glanced at Sam, who shifted uncomfortably, averting his gaze. "I am sorry that you had to see him every day. That can't have been easy to share a home with your former torturer."

Sam shrugged. "No. But he looked like you, so if he kept his mouth shut I could just… forget."

"Guys," Dean interjected, clearly trying to change the subject for Sammy's benefit, "Vampire nest in Boise?"

"Huh. Well... driving it is." Sam said, getting to his feet and giving his brother a tight-lipped nod of thanks. "I'll go stock up the cooler." He turned and left for the kitchen.

"You are really afraid to fly, Dean?" Cas asked cautiously, looking over to where Dean was beginning to stuff unfolded plaid shirts into his duffle.

Dean paused a moment. "Yeah. I always have been. We're meant to be on the ground. Now... let's get ready to go."

Cas swallowed and steeled himself. "I could help you with that."

Dean looked up and blinked. "Nah man, I can pack my own-"

"Flying, I mean."

It was Dean's turn to cock his head. "I'm not flying anywhere. I don't care what airline. And none of this." He waved his right hand forward with his index and middle finger together, imitating when Cas would heal him by touching his forehead.

Cas stepped forward, trying to quell the rush of feelings coursing through him. Even though he had been living with human emotions for some time now, he struggled to identify those that overtook him so completely, as these did now. He felt... he paused and thought a moment... Fearful? Electric? Could you feel electric, or was that meant for toasters and televisions?

"Cas?"

He looked up and saw Dean looking back at him, concerned.

"I just mean that... well, I can take you with me, to stretch my wings. No airplanes. No-" He mimicked the gesture Dean had just made. It felt strange to imitate someone's imitation of himself.

Dean's face evaporated into shock. "Like... with no walls or seats or anything? That's worse than an airplane!"

Cas felt a swell of what he supposed was fear- but this was another type unlike any he had known before. When he had gone to Hell to save Dean, he had been only slightly fearful of the demons and horrors beneath the Earth. He was not Gabriel or Raphael, certainly, but there had been a time when he had been indestructible, too. This wasn't the fear he had experienced when Naomi planned to drill into his mind through his eye, or the fear that took him when Metatron had stolen his Grace. This was a fear that he had only slightly understood before he'd grown into human emotions- the fear of God's rejection. That he was unwanted.

Dean had told him, back in the Impala, that Cas was his best friend- a brother. It had been good, to know that he had a family. Friends. With so many of his kin turned against him and his Father gone again, he had felt alone in a way he had not known he could experience. But two humans were keeping him tethered to this existence with love- their own special type. But while he appreciated this gesture right down into his core, he felt something odd creep into him in moments like this. With Sam, it was enough to sit and drink a beer or watch a game that he did not know the rules of or read in silence to know he was accepted.

But with Dean, he needed... something. He wasn't sure.

"I understand." He said, even though he didn't. "I just wanted to help." He nodded and turned to go pack his bag.

Dean cleared his throat. "Cas."

He turned. "Yes?"

"I know you're trying to help. You always are. But this is a big one, man- like, ingrained. And it's not- you know- really interfering with my life much-"

"I understand." Cas repeated, and turned away. You wouldn't need to be afraid with me, he thought.

"Cas," Dean said, a little more urgently this time. When Cas turned back, Dean swallowed and seemed to pick his next words carefully. "I'll think about it."

Cas sat on a bench staring out over the dark pond, quiet and still. He still did not require sleep, though sometimes he drifted into it as a habit from his human days. He supposed that was just thinking with his eyes closed, but it was nice to pretend. The Idaho air was chilled enough that his breath rose in small puffs, and he pulled his trench closer, folding his arms over his chest.

His mind began to wander, trilling over the events of the last year. Ever since Amara had evicted Lucifer from his vessel, Cas had felt like he had more breathing room. His vessel was so tiny it could barely hold his true form, and when he'd had another angel in there with him, things had been cramped, even when he stayed in the kitchen watching television.

A dagger of guilt stuck in his chest at the thought. He had heard Dean's call and ignored it for the first time. He had seen Crowley- known that only severe desperation would have drove the demon into the vessel as well. Yet...

Despite Dean's reassurance in the Impala that Cas was indeed his and Sam's best friend, that he was cared for and needed, he was struggling to keep the dark thoughts Lucifer had planted at bay. He shook his head. No- the thoughts had been there before Lucifer. That had been why Cas had let him in. He himself was useless, but he had a vessel that Lucifer could put to work. He had been fine with losing himself to television programs of questionable quality if it meant he could stay away from the pain of Earth. He had been human long enough to take on the ability to feel pain in a way he wondered if other angels could.

"Cas?"

His eyes shot open and he straightened, looking toward the sound. "Dean?"

Dean emerged slowly from the dark, his own breath rising in puffs of warmth. He had his leather jacket on, unzipped, with one hand in his pocket and the other holding what appeared to be a beer. Cas narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing out here?"

"Could ask you the same," Dean responded with a slight slur.

Cas had enjoyed a few celebratory drinks with the Winchesters after they had eliminated the vampire nest. He had found he still retained his high angelic tolerance for alcohol, but Dean had tried to keep up all the same. Sam had wisely called it quits earlier in the night and gone back to the motel to "drink a ton of water and pass the hell out".

"I don't sleep, Dean," Cas remarked. He wondered how Dean had found him this far from the motel, but didn't mind. It was best he had company aside from his own thoughts.

"Looked like you were sleeping."

"No. I just... I'm trying to spend less time watching TV." He shifted slightly, embarrassed.

"We've all had that little addiction. After you pulled me out of Hell, I watched way too many episodes of Beverly Hills- I mean- Monster Garage." He moved closer to Cas and sat on the other end of the bench. "Are you really okay, Cas?" He looked down and began picking at the label on the bottle he held.

Cas sighed and looked over, gauging Dean's state of mind. "I'm... trying to be."

"Hey, man. I uh..." Dean sat up straight and took a swig of his beer before looking over. "I'm not great with this talking thing, but if that is what you need, I will do my best."

He inhaled and looked over at Dean, who was nervously flicking his gaze between the angel and the bottle. "Dean-"

"Don't lie, man."

"I- I hadn't said anything yet."

"I know you." He looked up and made direct eye contact with Cas. "I know you'll say what I want to hear. I know you'll put everyone else before yourself because that's what you do. That's what we all do. And look where it's gotten us, man. We all need to start trying harder. So... the truth. Please."

He inhaled deeply again and braced himself. "Dean, I... I don't know what to say. I don't know exactly what these feelings are or the words that go with them. But I do know..." He took a moment to search inside and attempt to identify each thread of what was being woven inside him. "I'm sad. I feel restless and exhausted at once. I don't understand what this is."

Dean stared straight ahead. "It sounds like you're depressed, Cas. Maybe even... PTSD. Dad had it," he remarked off-handedly. He rarely spoke of his father anymore. "Made him a joy to be around. But," he looked over and placed his hand on Cas's shoulder, "everyone deals differently. This is a big deal, man. It's scary, I know. If anyone can pull through, it's you. You've taken on some gnarly curses and come out the champ."

Cas nodded. "I suppose."

"Nah, Cas, you have. You never give yourself any credit. You do things Sam and I can't even-"

"I don't feel very brave or mighty anymore," he interjected. "Whatever bravery or power I had to start with is gone. Is this what it's like to be human?"

Dean sighed. "Yeah. Being brave is really hard when you're human. But you are an angel, right?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "I haven't been rewired, as you would say. I've just had a bandage slapped on. I guess I'm both."

"Bravery is hard, man, but I believe in you." He paused. "This might be the beer talking- okay, it probably is, so we're never telling Sam about this, okay?" He gave Cas a stern look until he nodded. "Okay. Sometimes the thing that makes me brave is being brave for someone else. Like- if Sam is hurt, I feel braver because I have to take care of him. Does that make sense?"

"I think so."

"So what would make you feel braver? Like someone needed you?"

He thought. "I guess if someone needed me to save them. Or... maybe to help them with something they were afraid of."

"You are always willing to go with me to my death," Dean responded with a wry smirk.

"Nobody should have to die alone."

"That's brave, Cas." He downed the rest of his beer and pulled out another from inside his coat. He popped it open with his keyring and had it halfway to his mouth before he caught Cas' lifted brow. "I need some liquid courage."

"Why?"

"You're about to take me flying."

"Dean, I'm not sure this is a good idea." Cas rose to his feet alongside his companion and gestured to the beer in his hand. "You're intoxicated."

"Usually," Dean responded with a small laugh. "But this time it's for posterity. Or... something?" His eyes were glossy as he smirked at Cas. "I need you back, pal, and if this is what it takes-" he lifted his hands up and shrugged- "I gotta. Now- how does this work?"

Cas was unsure for a moment on how to proceed. "Well... to be honest I haven't done this before."

"Not really instilling much confidence," Dean muttered before he took another swig of his beer. "I may need another six pack."

Cas sighed and ran a hand through his hair before reaching up to tentatively take off his trench and suit jacket. "I'll need to stretch first." He folded his coat and set it on the bench. He loosened his tie and looked at Dean.

"Don't be shy," Dean quipped. "You got all night, pal."

"It's just- well." Dean gestured for Cas to continue. "No human has seen my wings in some time."

"I've seen your wings," he responded with a small burp. "First time I met you."

Cas shifted uncomfortably. "No- you saw the shadow of them. You've never seen my true form."

"I have heard your singing voice though. Bit much."

He tilted his head. "I've never sang anything around you."

Dean chuckled. "Nah- nevermind. But- what? You have actual wings? I thought you were just messing with Sam." He stopped at his own words. "Although you don't joke much."

He straightened. "Yes, I have real wings. They are mostly to prove myself to humans, but they function like a bird's."

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Let's see 'em."

Cas swallowed and straightened his back further. He closed his eyes and concentrated. A faint glow appeared near his skin, as if he were made of starlight (which may have been the case, Dean mused), but Dean held his ground. Cas opened his eyes, which were glowing a fierce blue, and as he watched Dean's face be cast into Heavenly light, he felt the tear of the skin on his back as his wings began to emerge. He felt no pain and the flesh healed around the wings as soon as it broke. He heard the soft rip of his shirt as the feathers forced their way through- too big to be contained, and he lamented a future trip to JC Penny to find a replacement. Several moments later, the glow of his skin and eyes faded, and a huge pair of black wings spread behind him.

Dean stared and Cas felt his stomach churn, but not unpleasantly. "I can put them back-"

Dean said nothing, but held up a hand to shush him. He stared, transfixed, and took a small step forward. "Sometimes... I forget... what you are." Cas looked away, embarrassed, as Dean inched closer. Dean reached out a hand tentatively, but then stopped and looked at Cas. "Can I...?"

Cas nodded.

Dean moved toward him and gently ran a hand over the glossy feathers. When Chuck had healed Cas, he had fixed his wings. Crowley had mentioned once, during that summer bromance, that when he saw Cas' wings, they had been damaged and missing tufts, but were still grand. Now Dean saw that Chuck had made them new. The feathers felt like silk, but silk that was thick and strong enough to carry the weight of the world. Which, he supposed, they did. When he turned back to Cas, he saw the angel had his eyes closed and was leaning gently toward Dean, ever so slightly. It was the look Dean wore when he took off his boots after a long day.

"That must feel nice to have them out after so long." He ran a finger down the wing's edge and heard Cas sigh lightly.

"They've been hidden a long time."

Maybe it was the beer, or that it was nearing 3AM, or something Dean was not sure of, but he felt something shift inside him as he looked at Cas, so content with someone touching his wings. He lost himself to the thought that he had, for so long, thought angels were nothing more than imagination and nonsense, but here he was, touching the actual wings of a celestial being. They were nothing he had expected- not white and billowy and easily tucked against Cas' back as he strode through the world. They were black and resilient like a crow made of the finest fibers- the color of Cas' hair, and they pained him daily, tucked inside his vessel. For years. He had said nothing.

Something gripped at his insides and he slowly took his hand away. When he lost contact with Cas, the angel's eyes snapped open and he looked at Dean. "I'd like to try them out first, before I take you with me."

"By all means," Dean said quietly, trying to decide if he was sick or shouldn't finish his beer. His stomach felt off. He was a bit light-headed and he mentally began counting how many beers he'd had.

He was drunk, yes, but his tolerance shouldn't have him feeling this way. A soft gust of air turned his attention back to Cas, who was moving each feather in turn. Dean thought of a musician tuning his guitar before a concert.

Cas looked toward the stars and took a few steps back from Dean. For the first time in years, Castiel began to flap his wings- slowly at first, and then he stopped. He knelt to the ground and then pushed off with a strength Dean had forgotten the Holy Tax Accountant possessed. He shot ten feet into the air and spread his wings, flapping them gently to hold himself in place a moment before doing a lap around the pond. Dean saw the lightest glow- almost like moonlight- coming off of Cas as he swept through the air, his wings nearly silent as he swooped and dove, familiarizing himself with them again.

Again, a thought picked at Dean's mind. Cas was old. Very, very old. He made off-handed comments about when the rivers were formed, or being present at a full-on Biblical event. Time meant little to Cas, really, until he had spent it with humans. Until he had spent time with Sam and Dean.

Dean tilted his head as he watched Cas lose himself in flight- a joy he himself felt on an open road with Baby's gas pedal to the floor. Cas, who was so serious, had never expressed this unbridled freedom in front of Dean before. Dean wondered how long it had been since Cas had been carefree, if ever. Had he ever enjoyed anything- or had he always been too busy following orders? Had he ever been a child?

When Cas finally landed back in front of Dean, crashing down to the ground into the same stance he had used to take off, Dean smiled. "How long since you got to do that?"

Cas looked thoughtful a moment. "The Renaissance, I think."

Dean chuckled and shook his head. "I always forget you've seen it all." When Cas stared at him a moment, Dean shook his head to break himself away. "Okay, I think I'm as ready as I'll ever be. You good?"

Cas nodded, but still looked a little nervous. "Okay." He opened his arms and Dean stared at him. "I have to hold on to you or this won't work."

"Well, sure, but... how?"

"Like when I raised you," Cas responded, mystified.

"I don't remember that, remember?"

"Oh. That's right. I wiped that to save you the pain." He stepped forward and touched two fingers to Dean's forehead before he could move away. A flash of memory popped into his head- but only a flash. He didn't remember Hell or anything over than Cas' arms around him. Cas had held him to his chest, Dean's back to the angel. His sleeve had slipped up and Cas had shifted his hand to grasp him closer as he flew them upward and out of Hell. His hand had burned Dean when Cas had gone Full Angel in a burst of white light that decimated all demons in range.

"You used your wings then," Dean muttered, his hand instinctively reaching toward his shoulder, where Cas' handprint had been.

During one of the many times he had been healed or risen, the handprint had melted away. He was not sure when, exactly, but he knew the mark was still beneath his skin. He could sense it- just like the carvings in his ribs. His healing had been external only.

Again, Dean forced himself to remember that Cas- dorky Cas who always wore the same outfit, binged Netflix, and never picked up on jokes- was an angel. An actual warrior of God. When Cas had first strolled into that barn, taking gunshots and stabs without a word as lightning crashed around him, Dean had known he was a force of… everything. Time and proximity had dimmed this memory. It was hard to remember Cas' ferocity when he had removed a freakin' Horeseman's ring when he was asking how to operate the popcorn setting on a microwave.

That guy had flown into Hell. Had taken on countless demons- demons who, at the time, would dare not speak his name when Dean and Sam had demanded to know what had burned out their eyes. Had pulled Dean from a demon's contract and fought his way, single-handedly, out of the deepest reaches of the Pit, carrying an unconscious human. Had healed Dean's body and given him life again. Had tried to talk to Dean- to reassure him this was the plan, but his voice had been too much for Dean to comprehend.

"You asked when the last time I'd flown like that was. Using my wings to pull you out of Hell and fight off demons with my free hand was not the same." Cas beckoned him to come closer.

Dean reluctantly turned his back to Cas, still remembering the power he had forgotten, and felt arms wrap around him- Cas' left hand resting exactly where Dean's scar had been. A surge of warmth and fear pulsed through him at once and before he could protest that yes, he really was afraid of flying, Cas was pushing them into the air.

"CAS!"

"It's like ripping off a bandaid," Cas muttered, chuckling lightly. "I knew if you had time to think about it you'd change your mind. I've got you."

I've got you.

Dean felt himself relax slightly until he looked down and saw that they were fifteen feet in the air. He swallowed. "Cas, I don't think I can-"

"Just trust me."

It took hours before Dean was comfortable enough to enjoy the flight, but when he did, he could see why it made Cas come alive in a way he had never seen. With the night beginning to turn into the grey of morning, Cas touched them down near the bench and smiled brightly as he lifted his trench. "That was... a great deal of fun."

Dean chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, it actually was." He flicked his tongue over his lower lip as he mulled something over, looking at Cas. "You wanna go again tonight?"

Cas looked up, surprised but pleased all the same. "If you'd like. You were right- that did make me feel braver."

"Me, too."