Archive of Our Own ^beta

Frowning, Dean glanced back over his shoulder as he drew his jacket snugger to his chest. It was colder than the damn forecast had said it’d be in this small town in northeast Iowa. Though, at least it wasn’t snowing. He’d count his blessings there. Keyword was yet, though, he knew as it was early November.

“Okay. I give up,” sighed his brother loudly. “What are you looking at?”

The deep green eyes instantly darted back to Sam, staring back incredulously.

“What?” his brother said, even more confused than before. His eyes quickly followed Dean’s for a moment but clearly didn’t see the same thing.

“What? What do you mean, ‘What?” Dean scoffed before throwing his arm out wide towards the feathery animal that had stalked them for the past block. “What? You don’t see the damn goose following us, Sammy?” Like, it was seriously right there after all. Staring at them with its beady eyes, judging them.

“Uh . . .” His brother turned back to glance behind them before he turned back. “Are you feeling all right?”

Now irritated beyond belief, Dean glared. “Of course I’m feeling—you seriously don’t see the damn goose? It’s right there, bitch!”

“There’s nothing there!” Sam glared back, thoroughly annoyed now.

“What do you mean—IT’S RIGHT THERE!” Dean physically forced his brother’s big head to turn towards the damn animal.

Sam wrenched himself out of the grasp, though. “And I’m telling you, there is nothing there! Nothing!”

“Well, you’re fucking blind then.” How the hell couldn’t his brother see it? It wasn’t like the thing was hiding or anything. It was literally right there with its wings out, narrowed beady judgmental eyes, full on typical dick geese energy on display.

“Just how drunk are you right now? I understand with Cas being—”

“Don’t,” Dean croaked out, pointing angrily at Sam. This had nothing to do with Cas. Zero to do with that. Though, he wouldn’t have been opposed to a visit from the asshole occasionally. Maybe a quick ‘Hey, how’s it going’ visits. It had been a few months after all since Jack had brought Cas back from the Empty. But Dean understood. Sort of.

He at least understood that Cas wasn’t avoiding him. The angel was just busy fixing heaven and stuff. It wasn’t like Dean Winchester was that asshole who considered himself more important than heaven. Because he wasn’t. He just missed his best friend. Missed the angel who believed in him, who stood by his side through apocalypse after apocalypse, Chuck, Knight of Hell!Dean, all of it. The dorky angel of Thursday who was more loved than Castiel would ever know—because Dean honestly couldn’t get those damn words out and speak the truth, Dean’s truth.

“You know he always comes when you call, right? So, just pray to him already,” sighed Sam. “He’d probably be happy to hear from you. To know you miss him.” He then held up his hands, anticipating Dean’s denials. “And I know. I know you’re going to say you don’t. But we both know that’s bullshit. You do. Hell, I miss him, too.”

“Well, then why don’t you pray to him?” Dean tossed back, whirling back away from the judgement dickwad of a goose who somehow seemed to turn even more judgy than before. Stupid goose. He huffed as he continued towards Baby, who was parked across the street.

It wasn’t that Dean hadn’t prayed to Cas. He had. He prayed to the angel more than he had ever done before. He was probably driving the poor dork insane with all his praying . . . and longing. He couldn’t help it, though. Now that he had gotten Cas back from the Empty and Chuck was dealt with, the entire game plan was wide open. They could—if Dean wanted to or could summon enough strength to push past all the wonderful John Winchester A+ parenting lessons on what it meant to be a man—discuss things. Like the whole sacrificial play with the Empty again—and the whole “I love you” bombshell followed by his leaving AGAIN! Just as that asshole always did. Just like everyone always did eventually when they got tired of Dean’s bullshit. Like Sam had once.

“Dean?”

The siren call to his heart echoed all around the second he heard his name. It couldn’t—it was a mirage. Had to be. Not after all this time. And yet Dean knew it had to be Cas. Had to be his dorky trench-coated angel who had changed his entire world with a single grasp to his arm, pulling him from the literal fires of Hell and the metaphorical ones he had been so long hiding in out of fear and rejection.

“Cas?” he croaked, his voice cracking foolishly.

At the sight of the blue eyes widening in surprise, Dean frowned in response. What now?

He later regretted that question when he felt a quick, sharp bite to his right ass cheek. Whirling around, the eldest Winchester came face to face with that pissed-off goose from before who was now flapping its wings angrily at him.

“What the hell?!”

HONK!

The powerful wings flapped even angrier, swirling up dust and fallen leaves from the sidewalk.

Dean Winchester had come face-to-face with many things in his weird ass life. However, a pissed-off goose who looked ready to chew him a new one was . . . definitely, well, something. That was for sure. Extending its neck as it practically seethed at him for some reason, Dean took a step back. What was this goddamn goose’s problem?

HONK! HONK!

“Will you seriously calm the fuck down?!” Dean shouted at the offended animal.

“I didn’t say anything,” remarked Sam beside him.

Unable to reply to that stupid comment as the goose’s head jutted out and tried to take another bite, Dean whirled back and decided to make a break for it. Maybe the ridiculous thing would attack Sam instead. One could only hope. Maybe then the giant oaf would finally notice it. He rushed towards Cas, recognizing by the way the angel stared Cas at least saw something there.

“You see it, right?” Dean yelled towards his angel just to be sure, though.

“I do.” Cas’s head tilted slightly. “It is rather intriguing—”

“Yeah, well, a little help here would be nice,” groused Dean. “Can you mojo it or—Fuck!” he screamed when the goose bit him again and sent him crashing into Cas’s firm chest. They both flew back onto the concrete, Cas’s arms quickly wrapping around Dean protectively.

The thick scent of an approaching fierce rainstorm enveloped Dean’s senses. Then came the warm heaviness that Dean assumed were Cas’s wings just out of sight. He swallowed as he felt his heart skip a beat at the feel. He never could ignore that amazingness.

HONK! HONK! HONK!

Dean couldn’t help but bury his head into the crook of Cas’s neck, hating that he had.

A deep rumble then erupted from his angel’s lips, resulting in the ground shaking at the power behind it. It wasn’t Enochian. Dean recognized that much. But it was seriously powerful . . . and hot. He felt himself flush slightly as he squirmed in Cas’s arms, feeling his body react to the display of dominance.

Mine!

The phrase seeped into every part of Dean’s body until it was the only thing he knew. He couldn’t explain how or what—he guessed it was angel related—but he almost felt slightly intoxicated for half a moment afterwards.

That was until he heard the familiar amused laughter that splashed onto him like ice water.

Son of a bitch!

“Oh, Cassie,” drawled the haughty British angel. “Don’t get your feathers all ruffled. I meant no harm of course.”

“Balthazar?” Sam announced somewhere off behind Dean. “What are you doing here?”

“Ah, hello, Samuel. How wonderful to see you again, and looking so alive and well too,” replied Balthazar, clearly smirking.

“Leave us,” growled Cas, though, clearly not amused in the slightest.

Dean was reminded of another time he had heard that no-nonsense tone from his angel in Bobby’s kitchen not long after their first meeting.

An exaggerated dramatic sigh punctuated the air instantly afterwards. “Fine. Forgive me for merely trying to speed things along, dear brother of mine. Won’t happen again. Ciao.”

Cas sighed softly a second later. “I apologize for him.” His deep blue stardust-like eyes stared deep into Dean’s glistening greens. “Are you all right?”

Dean nodded back jerkily. Yeah. He was good. He was in his angel’s arms. The angel who loved him. Who stuck by his side. Who—

“I love you,” he blurted out, eyes widening when he heard his own words echoing back.

Oh no. Oh . . . oh no. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud. Or ever.

Cas smiled warmly back at him, though, and nodded slightly.

“And I love you as well, Dean.”

The initial panic and fear of being rejected eased slightly. “You do?” How was that possible? He was Dean Winchester, Heaven’s number one pain in the ass, the one who screwed things up always.

Shoes scrapped the concrete awkwardly behind him, but he ignored it. Sammy could stuff it for once. This conversation was long overdue. Long . . . overdue.

“Of course. I told you as much, remember?”

“You left, though.” And ripped Dean’s heart out as a result as he had finally learned that this angel of the lord who had risked so much loved him, loved Dean of all things.

“I returned,” Cas simply replied.

Dean searched the ancient eyes that had seen stars born and die, mankind being born and everything since. It felt just as it had all that time ago in the basement. The pounding wasn’t Billie trying to get in to kill them this time, though. It was his heart, threatening to leap up out of his throat.

No words were worthy of this moment. Nothing would ever come close to what he wanted to say. So, instead, Dean did what he could only think to do. He grabbed his angel’s hand gently, watching Castiel watch him curiously before he placed Cas’s hand on his bicep where the scar had been from their first meeting—and their last.

“Hello, Dean,” murmured Cas, eyes sparkling with light and warmth and love.

“Hello, Cas,” he replied, his voice silky smooth as he held the intense gaze leveled on him.

Loud groans then filtered around before three voices shouted the same thing simultaneously.

“JUST KISS ALREADY, WILL YOU!”

And then came the familiar younger voice of their Nephilim son who was now God.

“I really thought the Soulmate Goose of Enforcement would work this time,” sighed Jack.

“Face it, kiddo,” remarked Gabriel, adding his voice to the fray. “We could give them a good ol’ fashioned fuck-or-die scenario, and they’d still drag it out somehow. It’s how these idiots operate.”

Dean caught Cas’s sassy hard eye roll before he and Cas vanished from the sidewalk.

God, he loved this angel of his.

As soon as they reappeared a few moments later in Dean’s room in the bunker after having traveled Angel-style, Cas smiled widely, almost cockily.

“Now,” he stated, “where were we before our brothers rudely interrupted?”

Dean chuckled loudly, shaking his head.

All was finally well in the world.

Chuck’s ending be damned.

It was their story now.

And in their story that started by the angel Castiel diving down through the fiery depths of Hell, speeding towards the brightest soul that called to his Grace brokenly to save it, whom he’d always rebel against Heaven for, ended with the rebel Seraph and the Michael Sword choosing one another for all of eternity, forever and more.

“I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.”

“I’m hunted. I rebelled, and I did it, all of it, for you.”

“My superiors have begun to question my sympathies.”

“Dean and I do share a more profound bond.”

“I need you.”

“You, me, we’re just better together.”

“Dean, you asked what about all of this is real. We are.”

“You, me, Cas, toes in the sand, couple of them little umbrella drinks. Matching Hawaiian shirts, obviously. Some hula girls.”

“Happiness isn't in the having. It's in just being. It's in just saying it.”

“I love you.”

Because it was always a love story.

Of the angel who willingly fell for a human who loved with all his heart and strength.