As days went on, they spent a good deal of time sleeping, usually curled up on either end of the sofa with the fire going and each under a pile of blankets. They were both often exhausted, as though recovering from a serious illness. One minute Dean felt fine, and then he'd feel like he was five seconds from collapsing. This happened to Sam as well. They had slowly-slowly- started exploring the house and they'd finally decided to venture upstairs. But on about the seventh stair, Sam had suddenly stopped, gripping tightly to the railing.
"Sammy? Hey, you okay?" Dean asked, assuming Sam was feeling one of the waves of fear that sometimes seemed to swallow him up. Dean stepped up so he was right behind him as Sam slid down the wall and crumpled onto the stair.
"Hey-hey-hey, Sammy?" Dean got down beside him, laying a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong? Talk to me!"
Sam's eyelids were drooping as he took a breath and Dean realized with some relief that it wasn't fear that had overtaken his little brother, but that damned exhaustion that seemed to come out of nowhere.
"Just… need a minute..." Sam was fighting to keep his eyes open.
"Okay, yeah. I know," Dean murmured. "C'mon. I got you." He slid his hand under Sam's head and around his back as he lifted him carefully off the carpeted stair and cradled him up against his chest.
"But..." Sam started to protest.
"No buts, we'll check out the second floor later. Rest time for you."
"...'m sorry," Sam replied, his words soft and slurred with sleepiness.
"No sorrys either," Dean scolded with a bit of a chuckle, rubbing Sam's back. "It's no big deal."
Sam let out a deep sigh, too tired for even a yawn as he lazily snaked his arms around Dean's neck and pressed his nose into his collarbone. Dean carded a hand through Sam's hair as he made his way back down the stairs and through the kitchen, that warm glow starting to envelope him again like it had out on the front porch that day. It made him feel alive and loved and so overwhelmed he could barely focus on anything else besides Sam and how much he loved that kid right back.
It took a concerned, though sleepy, "Dean?" from Sam to make him realize he'd frozen in place as he held onto Sam and basked in the warm serenity of the feeling.
"Hmm?" Dean started walking again.
"... you 'kay?" Sam mumbled against Dean's shoulder.
"I'm good, bro." he whispered, giving him a gentle squeeze.
"...'m tired."
"Yeah, I know, me too," Dean lied, trying to keep the smile out of his voice. He wasn't tired at the moment, but he was perfectly happy to let Sam think he was so he didn't feel any guilt about abandoning their exploration of the house. All he felt right then was a warm, contentedness emanating from his little brother that he wanted to never end. He had to focus hard to keep his feet moving. "It's okay... we'll just go lie down for a little while, all right?."
"...couch?"
"Couch, blankets and fire place. That sound good?" Dean whispered.
"'m sorry..." Sam mumbled again.
"Shhh...stop. You got nothing to be sorry about, kiddo. just rest. It's okay, all right?" Dean soothed as they entered the living room. He laid Sam down on one of the pillows and covered him with a blanket. He laid his hand on Sam's chest and was rewarded with two sleepy eyes blinking calmly up at him as the contented, loving glow grew stronger. Dean smiled at him. "You rest, okay?"
There was a moment then where he felt the contentedness falter suddenly as Sam was looking at him. Then he sat up and threw his arms around Dean's neck and Dean felt the slightest hint of fear creeping into the glow.
"Sammy?" he asked, wrapping his arms protectively around him.
"Am I going to get better?" The question was muffled into Dean's shoulder, but he understood it clearly.
"Of course you will," he answered with conviction. "You will. I know it feels like it's taking forever, but you're going to be okay. I know because I think I'm starting to feel this... connection thing that Cas was talking about."
That got Sam's attention. He let go of Dean and sat back. "You are?"
Dean nodded.
"What's it like?" Sam's eyes were wide.
Crap. What was it like? How could he explain this?
But Sam offered up his own explanation before Dean could formulate an answer. "Is it like you're reading my mind?" He asked suspiciously.
"What? No-"
"What am I thinking right now?
"That I'm reading your mind."
Sam's eyes widened again and Dean glowered. "Sam!" he rolled his eyes. "No. It's not like that. I just..." Dean glanced away, trying to find words that didn't seem too girly to describe what was happening. "I can't read your mind, I can just kind of... read what you're feeling." He said the word 'read' as though it were a question because he wasn't sure if that was the right word to use. "If it's directed at me, I guess. And it's not constant. Sometimes it's more drawn out, sometimes it's just a quick sense of something."
Sam just looked at him. And Dean knew that connection had fizzled out again, because he had no idea what Sam was feeling now.
"So," Sam asked, his brow wrinkled as he thought something through. "You could be in another room and not have a problem if you can't see me? You'd kind of just feel that I was there?"
Dean thought for a moment. They hadn't actually tried it, but, "I don't know. Maybe some of the time? Look, I'm not completely-"
Sam's jaw set in determination. "I want to try that thing again- where I close my eyes and try to see if I can not freak out if I can't see you."
"I thought you were tired-"
"No. C'mon, let's practice again and you know what? Let's really try it this time. Let's try in separate rooms."
"Sam, look… Cas said that taking it slow-"
"I don't care what Cas said! This is ridiculous. I have to get over this. What happened to the whole 'Take the fight to them' thing? C'mon, just… humor me, okay?"
Dean stared at him for a moment, debating whether or not to argue. But there was a bit of a hopeful look in his eyes and Dean didn't want to crush it. "Fine," he said after a beat. "But don't push it, all right?"
When they had tried this days before, they had just had Sam close his eyes for a bit, and Dean hadn't moved more than about two feet from him. That hadn't gone well. So Dean wasn't sure why they didn't think that trying separate rooms was a bad idea, but this time, that's what they did.
As he probably should have expected, two rooms dividing them ended with Sam in tears, Dean having a near panic attack and Castiel arriving to give both of them a good scolding, which they would have found amusing had they not both been so distraught.
"It's not going to heal you any faster," Castiel said, handing a trembling and teary eyed Sam over to his frantic brother. His voice held more than just a hint of annoyance. "It's only going to make things unnecessarily difficult and painful for you and I truly hate to see you putting yourselves through this for no reason"
Dean glowered at him as he sank down onto the sofa, but couldn't really argue. He had already started to think this wasn't helping anything. Hopefully Sam would come to that conclusion on his own. But Sam, it seemed was thinking about something else entirely.
"Am I not healing because of Lucifer?" he asked, his voice sounding so small, his fingers digging into Dean's shoulders.
Dean squeezed him closer as he felt his heart breaking for the kid.
Castiel's shoulders sagged as he sat down on the couch beside them. "Sam," he said, a gentle sadness in his voice now. "Lucifer is gone. Not in hell, not in the Empty... he just doesn't exist anymore. He can't hurt you. He can never hurt you or anyone else again." He started to reach for Sam, glancing quickly at Dean to see if he would pull Sam away, but he just sat very still, holding Sam and looking sadly at Cas. Cas reached out and wiped a tear from Sam's face and ran his hand over Sam's hair.
Sam let out a wet sigh that may have been a muffled sob, Dean wasn't sure.
"I know this is hard, but you have to give it time. And don't worry," Cas ducked down a bit to meet Sam's gaze. "You will stay here. This is your home."
Dean felt a slight loosening, as though Sam had been wound up as tight as he could be and finally released a bit of tension with the reminder that Heaven was not going to kick him out. If Dean thought his heart couldn't break any further...
"You have a lot of healing to do,"" Cas continued. "But when you're better, everything is going to be wonderful beyond words."
Wonderful beyond words. Dean had already gotten a couple glimpses of what Cas was talking about, and as he remembered that, a bit of his own tension began to loosen.
You're starting to feel the connection, aren't you? Castiel asked silently.
Dean looked over, startled. He wasn't used to this silent conversation thing. Yes.
Cas smiled. Sam will heal too, Dean. He's all right. Just remember why he is still in his child form... he desperately needs all the comfort, reassurance and tenderness you can offer him. These things were second nature to you as children.
I... I know... just this thing with Lucifer...
There is no Lucifer. There are only the deep, deep scars that he left behind that will heal. The connection will heal first, and then the scars. In the meantime, you both need rest.
Sam had already become dead weight in his arms. He had been tired before all this had started.
Dean, trust me. Rest and focus on all the things around you that are good and lovely and pure. There you will find peace as you both heal.
And with that, he was gone.
Dean did what Castiel had asked. He focused as much as he could on all the good stuff. He started to notice, much to his relief, that even with the anxiety and uneasiness that seemed to crop up, there were many moments of contentment as deep and comforting as the day they'd taken that first drive after arriving at the house. And there were moments of curiosity and wonder, like the flock of white birds that had flown over the house one day, the sun glinting off their wings at just the right angle to make them look like they were sparkling. The brothers had watched them from a balcony off of one of the upstairs bedrooms, the room Dean had immediately claimed as his own, but had yet to spend a single night in.
One morning, Sam was gazing out the window in the living room. It was the windows that he seemed to have the most trouble with, so Dean made sure to be close by when Sam approached the glass. On this particular day it looked very cold outside, and he watched as Sam traced a finger gently over the frosted edge of one of the panes. "Do you think it ever snows here?" he asked.
Dean looked down at him. "Do you want it to?"
Sam considered this for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. I think it might be nice to see snow sometime."
"Then I imagine it does," Dean said, running a hand gently over Sam's head. "If it's something you'd like, then I'm sure it will happen at some point."
They stood like that for a while, just gazing out the window. As they watched, a single snowflake fell from the sky. Sam's face lit up as he looked up at Dean and then back out the window as more flakes danced through the air. Dean grinned back and ruffled Sam's hair. But after a minute, he got down beside Sam and leaned on the edge of the window sill, smirking. "C'mon, Sammy. Is that all you got?"
Sam looked at him. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Dean gestured to the view out the window. "We're in Heaven. You're hoping for snow. I'm sure that's like the least of the things you can have if you want it. You need to dream bigger."
Sam rolled his eyes. "You got something better? Let's hear it."
Dean could hear the amused smile behind the eye roll. "I got a million 'something better-s'. For starters, uh, how about palm trees? Maybe sandy beaches? A pool?" He paused then, grabbing Sam's arm. "Holy crap- do you think there might be a pool?"
Sam grinned as Dean's excitement grew.
"Oh!" Dean snapped his fingers. "I got it! Dolphins."
Sam raised his eyebrows.
"I want to swim with dolphins." Dean said, nodding emphatically at Sam. "Right? I mean, come on!"
Sam laughed. "You want to swim with dolphins?"
"What- you don't?"
Sam though for a minute, his bottom lip protruding just a bit, and then he nodded. "Yeah. I guess that would be kind of awesome. Okay. You're right. Dream bigger."
Dean slapped him on the back. "That's my boy. C'mon," he said, standing up. "I'm gonna get a beer."
Sam followed him to the kitchen smiling all the way thinking about his brother swimming with dolphins.
Dean headed to the fridge. "And we are so exploring the back yard next. I'll bet there's a pool! You want an apple juice?" he asked over his shoulder.
There was a pause and then a huffed laugh. "Actually, make it a beer."
Dean froze. He turned to find full-grown, adult Sam standing in the living room, a bemused grin on his face, shrugging his shoulders as Dean just stared.
The contentment that he had allowed to settle into his body evaporated. There was no other way to describe it. It was almost a stinging, prickling sensation, like bubbles of carbonation suddenly rising to the surface, bursting and disappearing. He had not expected this. He had not expected Sam's return to adult form to fill him with apprehension, but it did. This was not what he was supposed to be feeling. This was what was supposed to happen, so why was he so freaked out? He wrestled with the onslaught of terrible emotions but couldn't seem to make them stop. And so he stood there in the kitchen looking at his adult brother with a forced smile, because he knew- he knew- that was the correct reaction to what had just happened.
"All right," he replied finally and turned back to the fridge more to avoid Sam's gaze than to retrieve the requested beer which he took a little extra time to find. Fully composed at last, he turned and handed Sam the bottle.
"Decided to grow up?" It came out with a little more heat than he'd intended, but Sam just snorted and shrugged, mercifully not acknowledging the dig.
"I guess." He took a swig of the beer, then he set it down on the counter with a look of determination in his eyes that Dean did not like.
"How do you feel?" Dean questioned.
Sam took a moment to consider as he wandered over to the windows and looked out. Then he looked back at Dean and smiled. "Better."
This was good, Dean nodded. This was good. This was what was supposed to happen. They were back to the way they were on the bridge when they were first reunited. This was fine...
"Wait- stay there…" Sam motioned for Dean to stay put as he walked into the hallway, putting distance between them. "Still good," he called.
Dean heard him moving farther into the house and a sense of foreboding crept up the back of his neck. He heard Sam climb up a few stairs. Then he came jogging back into the kitchen, a lopsided grin on his face. "Okay. I'm gonna try taking a walk."
"You want some company?" Dean asked leaning casually on the island, carefully masking his dread at hearing the answer he knew was coming.
"No," Sam shook his head. "I think I can do this by myself."
There was no malice in what he was saying or how he said it. His tone clearly indicated that it was just something he wanted to try by himself because he thought he was strong enough. He just wanted to try it out. But even though he knew this, at that moment Dean felt everything ripped out from under him, torn away with a physical agony as panic enveloped him. Sam was walking out. Sam was leaving! No no no no no….this wasn't supposed to happen here. He couldn't possibly have to go through this again! A small part of his brain registered that this thought process was irrational, but he couldn't stop it. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't stand. And then there was pain shooting through him from every imaginable angle and before he could fully process what was happening, he was blinking up at the ceiling of the kitchen and Sam was there, kneeling over him, screaming his name. And then Cas's name.
Dean tried catch his breath. He tried to sit up.
"No no no no- Hey, hey, Dean, don't move. Don't- Cas? CAS!" Sam was frantically looking from Dean to Castiel who stood somewhere just beyond Dean's line of sight. "Dude, c'mon, breathe… It's okay-"
"He's all right-" Cas's voice came from somewhere off to Dean's right side.
"Like hell he is, Castiel! What is happening?"
Sam was livid. Dean could tell from the pitch of his voice and the way he called Cas by his full name. It was like a parent using a middle name. Dean almost laughed but it was taking a moment for the pain to subside. He let out an involuntary moan.
"Hey!" Sam's attention was back on him. He was cradling Dean's head in the palm of one hand and brushing the other hand gently across his face. "Dean?"
" 'm okay…" Dean managed to get out before a groan of pain cut off the rest of his sentence.
"Dean? Hey, hey, I'm right here, you're okay-"
Dean thought about trying to push Sam away, but he had no strength left. And if he was being honest with himself, just the thought of breaking contact with his brother right then felt like a dagger carving into his skull.
"Don't!" Sam snarled suddenly, presumably at Cas, as he tightened his grip on Dean.
Dean found a strange solace in Sam's protectiveness, and a bit of amusement in the stark contrast between this almost vicious protectiveness and the gentleness with which Sam was holding him. He knew he should get himself together and settle his brother down before he literally bit Castiel's head off. He wasn't sure what was happening, but Sam was not messing around.
"Sam," Castiel's tone was a mix of exasperation and gentle assurance. "I'm just..."
Dean felt Sam's grip loosen and then two fingers lightly pressed to his forehead. The most intense part of the pain subsided.
"What happened?" Sam's hands were still holding his head up off the floor and Dean could feel him shaking, but his voice was still low and threatening.
Castiel remained impassive. "Dean is still healing too," he offered. "This is going to take time."
"You keep saying that-"
"And you keep forgetting it." Castiel challenged.
Sam was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "he seemed like he was doing so much better than I was." His voice was softer now with just a bit of a waiver in it.
"Your transformation to your adult form may have been a bit… sudden."
Sam locked eyes with Dean as the meaning of Cas's statement sank in . "I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't mean-"
Dean shook his head and forced himself to sit up, embarrassed by his reaction to how things were supposed to be. "Sam, it's fine. I just- you can… do whatever makes you happy."
"What do you mean?" Sam asked, confused.
Dean sighed, rubbing at the back of his still aching head. "I mean you seem pretty excited to go off by yourself-" he put up his hands to indicate he did not mean it in an accusatory manner. "And now you probably can... or you're getting close, anyway. And that's okay. if you want to go-" he wasn't sure how to finish what he was trying to say. He didn't want Sam to go, but...
There was a long pause during which time Dean couldn't tell whether Sam was terrified or angry or what. But in that pause, he thought carefully about his words and then nodded, confident that he meant what he was about to say. "You being happy is the most important thing. So if you want to go... I just want you to be happy." But when Dean finally met Sam's eyes, he was surprised to see they were welling over with tears.
"Dean," he finally breathed out, as though recovering from a punch to the gut. "Dean, I was just going to walk around outside to see if I could do it without falling apart! You think I want to leave?" His voice was bordering on incredulous. "I spent years without you- decades! And all that time- all that time, all I ever wanted was for you to… not be gone."
Dean swallowed, but didn't know what to say.
"If I'm getting to stay in Heaven-"
Dean found his words then. "Not if, Sam." he growled.
Sam knew the anger in his tone was not directed at him, but at all the things that had happened to him and the unfairness of the very idea that Sam would think he didn't belong in Heaven. He tilted his head at Dean for just an instant, as he had sensed this clearly. Very clearly. Almost as though Dean had spoken it aloud.
But he dismissed the sensation and continued. "Since I'm getting to stay in Heaven" He forced out the word 'since' as though he were speaking a foreign language, but Dean was relieved to hear it, none the less. "I'm staying here with you. It wouldn't be Heaven if you weren't right here. You are my heaven."
And then it happened. Just as Dean was about to make some snide comment and call Sam by a decidedly feminine name, it happened. He could see the expression cross Sam's face and he could feel it at the same time.
Sam froze and sucked in his breath. Something was happening. It started as a glow somewhere inside Sam's chest, and at the same time, outside of his body. It was something warm and familiar and safe. Sam knew this sensation, but not at this level. It was so intense, he almost didn't recognize it, but it was, at the same time, his whole life. It was swirling all around him, raining down on him and slowly rising until he felt as though he might drown in it. The feeling was love- overwhelming and almost frightening in its enormity at first, but also comforting. It was acceptance and support and protection, unwavering and unconditional…. And it was coming from Dean. It was all the love he had ever felt for Sam and all of it so pure and perfect, Sam was astounded by how much he had never comprehended something he always thought he understood. The intensity and the sheer breadth of the love that was now flowing through him like a current of energy was so much deeper and more fierce than he had ever realized it could be. All at once, it was too much and not enough, but he finally landed on 'not enough' because while this was all coming from Dean, Sam suddenly realized that Dean was not actually here in this flow, this state of eternity and he should be. And so he started to pull back until he heard:
"Hey, Sammy,"
"Dean!"
They weren't in the kitchen anymore. They were on the bridge over the creek. But this time, they were only souls, only light. Glowing blue orbs radiating energy and swirling around each other, they were able to see each other in their human forms and as energy all at once and it made no sense to either one of them. But it was all too astounding for either of them to try to sort it out.
Dean's essence was all around Sam, approaching him with awed curiosity. Deans soul was so full of life and love and Sam saw him as utter perfection, the way he saw him when they were children. Was it finally happening? Were they healing? But then he took in his own form, and he saw something very different. There were parts of him that were not radiating light. Parts of him that were dark, like cracks in a sidewalk, dark, empty fissures that light wasn't passing through. The Hell scars. There were so many of them and they were so deep. As he looked at them, Sam realized that he could recognize each and every one of them. And to his horror, he realized that some of them weren't even from hell. Some of them were things that had happened to him on Earth, or things that he had done. And then Sam felt concern and sorrow coming from his brother. Dean reached forward cautiously, not quite making contact, and Sam shrank back, ashamed.
"Sam?" There are no actual words spoken in the traditional sense, but Sam heard his brother's voice. He wasn't not sure how to respond, wasn't sure what he was feeling exactly, but it hovered somewhere between shame and despair.
"I guess… I guess I'm not quite…" He wasn't sure what to say. Not quite pure? Not quite good enough to be here? His bond with Dean had certainly healed, and for that he was so very grateful. But now his flaws were fully visible in a way he had never experienced before. It wasn't that Dean didn't already know about most of these things, but now it felt like he was wearing a bunch of little red flags all over him that said things like "Demon Blood Drinker", "Terrible Brother", "Liar", and "Here is every unspeakable thing that happened to me in the pit".
"Hey…" Dean inched closer to him, slowly, like he was approaching a wounded animal.
Sam backed away, trying curl in on himself the way he could in full human form, trying to keep Dean from seeing the depth of all his flaws or at least cover the worst of them, but there was no hiding anything on this plane of existence. He remembered feeling this way at times during his life. He'd told Dean once that even as a child, he knew he wasn't clean, wasn't pure and this line of thinking would have continued if not for Dean's firm, "No."
Dean's essence had moved closer to him, demanding his full attention. "No you don't, little brother. I know where your mind is heading and this doesn't change a damn thing."
"But, Dean-"
"No. Sammy, look at me."
Sam reluctantly met Dean's gaze.
"Look," Dean insisted. He held out his hands to Sam. "I have them too, you're just looking past them."
It took a moment, but Sam finally saw what Dean meant. He, too, was covered with Hell scars. Dark little cracks where no light emerged. It broke Sam's heart that his brother carried these things.
"I know. It hurts like hell to see them, but it doesn't change how you feel about me, does it?" Dean asked, apparently sensing Sam's sorrow.
Sam's head shot up. "No! Dean, no, of course not-"
"You see where I'm going with this? Now listen. Cas said we're going to heal from this, so this won't be forever, right?"
Sam nodded, thinking it over.
"Believe me, I wish more than anything that I could just take away each and every-" As he was speaking, Dean had gently reached out and placed a hand on one of Sam's scars and at that moment, there was a rush of energy that coursed through them both as though they'd been thrown into a riptide. Sam felt Dean's essence all around him, so full of love and acceptance that he could have wept. The scar he had touched was sealing shut and becoming light. And then he felt what he could only describe as something being lifted from his soul. It was like the old saying about a weight being lifted from one's shoulders, but infinitely more powerful. There was a complete and total absence of the guilt and pain he'd been carrying around in that area of his soul. He felt an almost intoxicated bliss for a moment, as though for an eternity he'd been unable to breathe and suddenly he could.
They both pulled back from each other, momentarily breathless and stunned. Sam from the sweet relief of no longer feeling the agony of that wound and Dean from the shock that he was actually able to heal his brother. Sam was caught off guard at the sudden and intense joy that was now radiating from Dean. It was like the day he killed Hitler, but so much more ecstatic. Sam almost laughed. He wondered vaguely if he'd have to hear, "remember when I healed one of your scars?" for eternity.
Dean's happiness wavered into something more like a focused determination for a moment as he returned his gaze to all the scars still remaining. He reached out again like he couldn't believe what had happened, and another scar disappeared. And then another and suddenly Dean was moving all around him and through him and removing every bit of trauma Sam has ever experienced. He could actually feel Dean's joy at being able to take away all of the scars and finally Sam couldn't hold back a delighted smile. Each old wound that healing felt like the Band Aids Dean used to apply when they were kids. "All better, kiddo?" he would ask back then, and he asks again now with a bit of a proud smirk. Each time a scar was healed, Sam thought there was nothing that could feel better than that, until the moment he realized that he could do the same for Dean.
He touches and seals each one of Dean's scars. He goes about it with methodical intention, reinspecting each one to be sure it's fully closed, more out of disbelief that he can actually do this. There are some that hurt him more than others to see, one in particular that he left until the end. It wasn't the biggest of the scars, or the most obvious, but Sam knew it was the deepest. His hand hovered over it for a moment as he looked at Dean intently. Dean didn't meet his gaze at first, but when he did, there was only love in his expression and a full confidence that Sam would heal this scar too.
"Dean," he said earnestly, not fully trusting his voice not to break. He mustered every ounce of puppy-dog-eyes that he had as he continued. "I want you to know, this is never going to happen again," Sam said it even though he was pretty sure Dean already knew. He pressed his hand to Dean's chest. Dean's eyes closed as just the hint of a smile started to grow in anticipation of this final scar being lifted from his soul. Light slowly seeped from between Sam's fingers, growing brighter and brighter until it exploded in a blinding glow, erasing all the pain that Dean had felt on the day Sam left for Stanford. Sam knew the scar wasn't caused by his pursuit of an education or by his need for independence. It was the separation. The complete cutting of ties. And he knew that would never happen again.
"I'm gonna be with you right here," Sam said, his hand still over Dean's chest, repeating the words Dean had said to him on that horrible day in the barn. Dean's eyes opened, filled with more joy and peace than Sam had ever seen there before. Sam matched his smile then and reminded Dean one more time,"I will never leave you."
The light glowed from both of their souls, whole, complete, and released from all Earthly burdens. They moved then as energy, the light from one always reaching the light from the other, no matter how far apart they went. And it was so familiar and so foreign all at once. And while it was wonderful beyond words, just as Cas had promised, it was also overwhelming.
And in an instant, they found themselves back to their human forms, fully healed and completely exhausted. They were lying in the middle of the kitchen floor, right where they were before, breathless and bewildered. Cas was gone again, and they just lay there staring at the ceiling.
"Holy. Crap." Sam said, finally breaking the silence, but making no attempt at all to move.
"Yeah," Dean agreed. "Hey, remember when I told you you weren't dreaming big enough? Maybe reign it in a little."
Sam started laughing. And he kept laughing as Miracle pushed his way through the dog door and trotted across the kitchen to his food bowl, stopping briefly to lick Dean's nose along the way.