Sam sat across from Dean, Bitch Face #5210 plastered across his face. "You're what."

"I'm an angel, Sammy. And it's not a bad thing, okay? I already had some practice at it."

Castiel's smirk forced Dean to give him Death Stare #9260. Castiel sobered up rather quickly after that.

Since Dean had become an angel, Cas had been so much more laid-back with him. He saw the smiles that Castiel hid behind his hand. He saw the light way that Cas shook his head when he saw Dean try to work out how to hold himself; now that he had wings. He saw that way that Castiel's face would fall when Dean would say something that belittled himself. It made him see the angel that his garrison would have seen. Seeing Cas smile and laugh and joke, and even seeing him sad, and angry and disappointed, it was seeing a whole new part of him. And Dean wanted to get to know him better. A lot better. And that freaked him out.

"Dean, that's not the point. You were dead. Or so close to it that Cas had no choice. And you kept me in the dark, again." Dean's heart dropped. He was always letting Sam down despite all his attempts to do exactly the opposite.

"It's not like I had much choice in the decision. No one asked me. Cas coulda just left me-."

"Dean if you finish that sentence, I will stab you." Dean looked up at Sam, watching worry lace his eyes. The poor man would start getting wrinkles soon if he didn't stop his facial habits. Dean, on the other hand, would never get wrinkles. Unless he gave up his Grace. Well, Castiel's Grace, anyway. Dean made a mental note to ask about that later.

"It doesn't matter, not really. Point is, you are an angel, and that's a point in our favour against Abaddon. Now we have two angels on our side to help, plus Crowley with the-...wait."

At the mention of Crowley, Dean shared the thought with his brother. Dean lifted his sleeve, but lo and behold, the mark was still there. "How the…?"

Castiel leapt back, Grace filling the room and wings spread in defence. "Dean!? How did you get that, more importantly, why did you get that?" Castiel was seething, and Dean could finally understand why angel's were so terrifying.

"I only got it in order to kill Abaddon, then the plan was to get rid of it." Seeing that not everyone was following what he was saying, the continued. "The First Blade doesn't work without the Mark. I swear Cas, I don't want it."

Castiel stiffened only a moment longer, and then relaxed. Wings tucked and Grace settled; he inched closer to Dean. "It's been eating away at you. No wonder you OD'd."

"I didn't do it on purpose Cas, I was just tired. I wanted to sleep." He knew Castiel could see his lie, but Sammy couldn't. Sam couldn't get in Dean's head the way Cas could, despite having grown up with him.

"Well, I'm going to try and get some sleep. I need to sort this all out in my head." Sam stood, coughed obviously and stretched before leaving the room, looking back only once to give the Puppy Eyes of Guilt. Dean sighed and fell onto the couch, thoroughly exhausted for the first time since he got his wings.

"Would you like me to rub them?"

Dean blinked, and quite possibly visually blanched.

Castiel motioned vaguely. "Your wings. You have tension in them. There aren't any other angels that can really help you." Cas shrugged nonchalantly, as if nothing he had just said was the slightest bit weird. Dean wanted to take him up on the offer, but at the same time, didn't want some awkward midget angel groping his wings. Not that Castiel was any awkward angel, he was Dean's awkward angel. And that was another thing. When was it that Dean had started to think of Cas as his?

"Uhhhh…" Castiel rolled his eyes. Dean had Sam and his bitch faces to blame for that. The two of them had been hanging out a lot. Cas sighed before crossing the room and standing behind Dean, and began to knead. "Ooooohhh…" That was magical. Castiel's hands seemed to find all the knots, and rub them out. Dean began to relax, lost in the magical feeling of his first wing massage. Castiel bumped something, near the base of his wings, and Dean found himself with a dilemma.

Weirdest. Boner. Ever.

Dean tried to tuck his legs up, tried to hide it, but Castiel froze. "Dean, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bump that, I just-."

"Cas, it's alright. Let's just...ignore it."

Dean looked around at Cas, and saw a flash of something. Sadly, his new Angel-Vision caught it. Castiel was upset. Upset about what? "Cas? What's wrong?"

"Nothing Dean."

"You can't lie to me, man. Just say it."

Castiel seemed to struggle for a moment, internally.

Dean watched as he made up his mind, removed his hands and sat on the couch opposite Dean. He tried again, "What's eating you Cas?"

"You." Dean blinked. Once, twice; slowly. "You are 'what's eating me'. I have all these random feelings, and I can't explain them, except I only get them thinking about you. Or talking to you, or just being in the same room as you. I tried looking at modern magazines and news articles about it, but they all just say I'm in love with you." Dean hadn't stopped blinking. Dean was processing.

"You what?"

Dean panted, trying to force more air into his lungs. Never mind that he didn't need it anymore, it was more for comfort than anything. Old habits were hard to break.

Castiel had taken a break from grappling with Dean for dominance, and Dean was eternally grateful. "Dammit Cas, go easy. I've never done anything like this before."

"Well then, I suggest you keep up." And with that, Castiel launched himself back onto Dean, wings flared and body arched. In the split second Dean had, he threw Cas up and over with his legs, wings open for balance (which was finally coming natural to him); arms braced for grounding. Castiel flipped and landed a little ways away. A desperate whine came out of Dean (which he will never admit) as Castiel launched again, this time side-swiping at the last second, grabbing Dean by his belt, and throwing him down.

He landed with a dull thud, and the hypothetical wind was knocked out of him. "Time!" He gasped quietly, still fighting the instinct that was breathing. "You win Cas."

The man stood and grinned ear-to-ear, which was a rare sight since his confession of love a short two weeks ago. Dean had been trying to forget about that, but something about the whole situation sat funny with him.

He took Cas' hand up, and right there. A little spark, a flare in Castiel's glow. Glow? How had Dean not seen that before? Kinda hard to miss really. A deep blue glow, emanating from his chest, bright but visible. How had he missed it before?

"Hey Cas? What does a soul look like?" Castiel motioned for Dean to head over to the Bunker's garage, and down toward the basement pool.

He explained as he walked. "Depends on the person, I suppose. Some people's are small, some large. Always a different colour, and shape. Yours has always been golden light, swirling larger and bigger than your physical body. Mostly, I think, because what makes you happy is when the people around you are happy." The cars glinted as they walked past, bright under the fluorescent lighting. The pool stairs were right up ahead.

"Okay, and how did you learn that? Was it one of those angel things that you learn? Like, wingling pre-school or something?" Dean took the stairs two at a time, eager to cool off in the pool. "Or was it something you learned from spending time with us humans?"

"Actually, one, baby angels are known as Sparrows. Who then become Cherubs, not those creepy ones Michelangelo painted. I'd bet you anything Gabriel was the messenger that day. And two, it was something I first learned about you, and then by process of observation learned of everyone else. Example, Sam's soul, though dim from his time in Hell, as was yours, is green, and his tends to swirl more directly through his hands and fingers. He tends to be someone who like to touch and heal. Hands-on kind of guy. You try to make people happy through all of your actions, which is why yours tends to just be everywhere."

They hit the locker room then, which was good because it gave Dean an excuse to pause the conversation right where it was getting uncomfortable. "Anyway, now it's time for you to learn how to control your wings in water."

"Great."

Dean didn't actually think it was possible to be this wet. Yet here he stood, drenched from head to wing to foot. Especially his wings. Which were smelling really interesting right now. There was a vague smell of wet bird mixed in with a woodsy musk and leather. Why his wings even had a smell was beyond Dean's usable comprehension. So instead of thinking too hard about it, he filed it away as a 'ask Cas later' and stood in the sun on the roof of the bunker, wings stretched out, head pointed up, eyes closed. The sun beating down on him was pleasant, even if he felt a little uncomfortable being in nothing but his boxer-briefs, but it was the quickest way to get dry after what Cas had done.

"Cas, what are you gonna teach me in a pool, huh? Cas, why are you smirking like that? Dude, seriously…'

He frowned, eyes still closed. That bastard angel had just shoved him into the pool. No warning at all. Then he had the unmitigated gall to stand there, laughing and gloating, eyes sparkling and skin crinkled at the corner of his lips and mouth. He actually had a really nice smile, when you got to see it. And nice eyes too. Those big innocent blue eyes had been less innocent these days, since he'd professed his love to Dean. Which was weird and comforting all at the same time.

An exasperated sigh made its way through his lips, completely beyond Dean's control. He bowed his head and opened his eyes slowly. There had to be a quicker way to dry off, angel's surely do it all the time. Crowley had put the Blade at the bottom of the ocean, and come up no worse for wear. He'd left Cas practically cackling at the pool, and he didn't know how much longer his privacy was going to last. Thinking about it, he could probably just exert some will over his body. That made complete sense, to Dean at least.

Taking a deep breath, Dean imagined the feel of his skin dry, and warm. Really tried to feel it. He imagined his wings losing their damp quality, in favour of the dry silky quality he had come to find they usually had. He imagined the feel of his skin under fingertips, soft and dry, and not wet. He imagined the warmth of a fire, the sun beating down on his skin, the crisp morning air of the mountaintop he'd tried to learn to fly on.

And then he was dry.

He wasn't exactly sure how it happened, but he did it. He opened his eyes to behold his awesomeness, and instead was met with the hungry, intense gaze of Castiel standing in his personal bubble. Instead of being startled like he usually was, he found himself expectant of it, almost like he knew Cas was there already. Like a new sense. Weird.

"Dean, why are you almost naked?" He could hear the sarcasm dripping from Castiel's voice. Finally, finally, he had a grasp on this stuff, and the asshole angel's gotta use it on Dean?

"Well Cas, here's the thing. Turns out I figured out how to make myself dry. And now, because it's a little bit cold out here, I'm gonna test it on my clothes. So are you gonna stand there and watch or...?" Castiel nodded, eyes unabashedly raking over Dean's naked, mildly soft body. Dean was kind of used to it, at this point. He'd actually given Cas permission a week ago. Which was an awkward conversation in and of itself.

"Look Cas, this is killing me. You like me? That's fine, but be honest about it. I'm sick of this friggen' awkwardness between us because you don't know how to act like a human. Just be yourself, and take what you need. I promise I've always done the same, it's your turn now."

Being an angel had made Dean more honest, much to Sam and Castiel's delight. Dean actually felt a bit bad because he'd not been spending a lot of time with Sam, if any at all.

As a result of his angelhood, Dean felt like Sam deserved a more laid-back lifestyle. So now Sam got a full 9 hours of sleep. Dean didn't have to sleep anymore, so more stuff got done from the endless to-do lost of his life. He could watch over the bunker with Cas, and Sam got to function like a proper person. Dean also cooked constantly and Sam frequently woke up to something or another being baked. In the first few days, Dean made 45 pies.

No exaggeration there. Literally 45 different pies. There was apple and chocolate silk and cherry and strawberry-rhubarb and something that was called mock-apple that was pleasantly surprising to Sam's tastebuds. It always surprised Sam how good Dean was at cooking, considering they'd never had real food travelling with their dad.

Castiel smiled proudly as he watched Dean dry his clothes in a second with sheer willpower. Dean had the biggest shit-eating grin plastered ear-to-ear. "C'mon, let's celebrate with Sammy. I'm going to make a kick-ass dinner. Gimme 3 hours, it'll be great."

And making dinner was an understatement. Dean created a masterpiece of a spread. Roast chicken, potatoes and broccoli and pumpkin. Bread rolls and creamy butter, potato bake and coleslaw, stuffing and mash, cheesy cauliflower and steamed greens, biscuits and gravy, cheese curds and more gravies and sauces than you could shake a breadstick at. Sam nearly died when he saw the table setting. "Dean, how are we supposed to eat all this?"

"Well, I may have invited a few friends." At his cue, Garth and his girlfriend, the waitress from their favorite diner down the road and her boyfriend, two homeless kids they had saved from a vengeful wight, and Timmy and his new adopted family strolled in. Mostly just people that they had met in the course of hunting, but still a nicely put-together family if Dean did say-so himself. And he was saying that. And all their eyes glinted with happiness, everyone taking a moment to smile at Sam. Dean discretely tapped Garth on the shoulder and indicated to a plate with rare steaks on it. Garth smiled appreciatively back at him. Sam's grin just widened, and he smiled and shook hands and hugged Garth before they all sat, and tucked in.

It was a night Dean would always remember. Even Cas was relaxed in front of everyone, just as he was with Dean these days. It was marvellous. They all talked and laughed about how they met and how they knew the Winchester brothers. Garth regaled everyone with his werewolf story again. The hunters in company all knew already, and so laughed and clapped along happily. Food was passed around, and they lapsed into a hungry silence as everyone guzzled down the plentiful food. Beers were passed and whiskey was poured. The night was rowdy and happy, and there was not a single fight or punch thrown, much to Dean's happiness.

Slowly, everyone said their goodbyes and made promises to do this all again, leaving Garth, Bess, (as Dean had finally learned her name) Sam, Cas and Dean to relax in front of the fire with their final deserts of the night.

When there was a noticeable lull in the conversation, Dean took it as a cue. "Well gentlemen, and lady, I think you can safely head off to bed. Garth, Sam can show you the room that we aired out for you. Cas and I will take care of cleaning up. We don't have to sleep, so go get some actual rest." Garth and Kathy grinned appreciatively, and left quietly. Sam, slouched low in his chair, smiled softly in the light of the fire.

"Dean, I hate to say this, but being an angel suits you. You're more honest, and happy, and how I imagine you should have always been. It's almost like a dream how good everything is." Cas excused himself, promising to start the dishes the 'human way' like they had taken to doing. Dean nodded him off.

Dean reached for a wine glass that was sitting on the coffee table between them. "Sammy, I have to admit, you're probably right. This has been so good. I can look after you now, but I can also let you have a break and be an actual person." Sam nodded thoughtfully, pondering that for a moment. While Sam stayed silent, Dean walked around the room picking up glasses and plates, intending to take the pile to Castiel.

"You're right. But that also means you have more time to look after yourself. After all, you denying yourself everything is what led you here. So go. Go and and get what you want." Sam's eyes flicked to the kitchen, and Dean knew exactly what Sam meant, that giant gangly asshole. "Dean, don't get that look, you know I'm right. He's crazy about you, and I know that you feel the same. Cas actually talked to me the other night, told me some stuff. You do love him, don't you?" Dean froze, and gently placed his pile down. He sat across from Sam, glaring steadily.

That question had struck something deep in him, and suddenly he actually thought about it. Dean had always thought of Cas as family. He wasn't quite sure what kind of family yet, though. He paused and sank into the couch, this was a talk he and his brother were going to have to have sooner rather than later. "You know Sammy, I gotta tell ya…."