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Chapter Text

Santorini, Greece
~1650 BC

Dean stumbled as the ground beneath his feet lurched, the tremors of the earth cracking open the ground. Screams surrounded him, the crowd of people he was fighting against swelling and shoving as what felt like the entire population fled towards the coastline. He shoved his way through, the lone person heading towards the epicenter of the chaos. 

He had looked back only once since leaving the temple, the eyes of the High Priestess easily finding his own in the crowd. She had nodded once, her fiery hair blowing in the wind and he had heard her voice in his head. “May the goddess protect you.”

He had nodded back before turning and sprinting towards the center of the island, his sandals pounding into the packed dirt roadway. He didn’t stop to consider what the rest of the crowd thought was happening - what gods they were blaming or praying for salvation to. He had a mission and the fate of the world rested on his shoulders, and his shoulders alone.

He was a hunter.

Born and raised in the life, training since he could walk to fight the supernatural, to protect humanity. His brother, Sam, at his side. Sam was a Man of Letters, and his research and guidance were invaluable to Dean.

Or, rather, they had been, until it came.

Dean shook those thoughts away. There was nothing that could be done now. This was the only way. This life, a hunter’s life, almost always ended in death. Dean and his brother were just the latest in a long line of sacrifices. 

But at least he’d go out swinging.

He slowed as he approached his target, the small village was seemingly deserted, but he knew there was at least one life remaining. Trapped, but not powerless. The ripple effects of the being’s escape attempts could be felt across the island and it was only a matter of time before his attempts succeeded. Dean had to act fast. 

His mind replayed the High Priestess’ instructions once more.

She was mixing ingredients in a clay bowl, muttering in a language Dean didn’t recognize. She barely glanced up as Dean approached and dropped to one knee, bowing his head in respect.

“You may rise, Hunter.”

Dean stood and approached the altar where she was preparing the spell. “What do I need to do?”

She mixed in a few more ingredients and uttered a few more words, her eyes lighting up a brilliant purple before fading back to normal. “You will need to drink this. It’s a blood spell, at least one drop of your blood must make contact with the creature before you say the incantation.”

“What’s the incantation?” Dean asked, peering at the murky stew that smelled like a rotting centaur. “It’ll kill me before I can finish if it knows what I’m doing.”

The High Priestess nodded. “I’ve considered that. As it’s a spell of my own devising, the trigger can be whatever I decide it to be. You merely speak the words, and the spell will take.”

Dean nodded. There was one thing he needed to tell Sam before everything went to shit, one thing he needed his little brother to know. He ran it by the High Priestess and with her nod of approval, and a few more muttered words over the mixture, she handed him the bowl. 

After choking down the brew, Dean turned to leave, but was halted by the entrance of a priest. 

“There’s been another prophecy,” the man told them. “The Seer just had a vision.”

“Does it change the plan?” Dean asked.

The man shook his head. “No, if anything it confirms that you will be successful.” He paused, untying a scabbard from his waist. “Take this.”

Dean shook his head. “I have my weapons, tried and true. I have no need. Keep it, holy man, you may need it.”

The man stepped forward, pressing the sword into Dean’s hands. “Please, my son. It was my brother’s. He fell in battle against the Fallen One. It has no place with a priest. It should be with a warrior. Perhaps one brother’s sword shall aid another brother.”

Dean nodded, taking the short sword and tying the scabbard to his own waist. “You should both leave this place. No matter the outcome, I fear the island won’t survive.”

“You worry about yourself, Hunter,” the High Priestess instructed firmly. “We will worry about our own affairs. Now go.”

Dean ran.

Dean took a moment to pull off his helmet, wiping the sweat from his brow before replacing it and pulling out his knife, quickly slicing into his right palm. He clenched his fist, a few drops of blood spilling out, before striding towards the small house in the center of the village. He didn’t bother knocking, the occupants had left days ago, leaving Dean and the High Priestess to lay their trap. 

He stepped into the small entrance room, pausing before stepping through to the main room of the house to gather his thoughts. He hadn’t seen Sam since the Fallen One had appeared, and he had no idea what to expect. 

He’d barely taken two steadying breaths when a voice called out. “I know you’re there, Hunter. Don’t be shy. Come say hello.”

There was a coldness to the voice that was wrong - every nerve in Dean’s body prickled in horror - but it was still Sam’s voice. Dean took a deep breath and stepped through the doorway. 

The creature that wasn’t Sam stood in the center of the room. He had Sam’s face, his broad build, his too long hair, but everything else was as wrong as his voice. The horns spreading from his head. The legs of a bull protruding from his chiton, ending in cloven hooves. A serpent’s tail whipped back and forth, belying the creature’s calm facade. 

“Dean,” the creature smiled, “how good of you to join us. Sam has had much to say about you.”

“Yeah?” Dean answered, his voice steady despite the pounding of his heart. He glanced down at the circular marking engraved with runes on the floor, the only thing keeping the creature trapped. So far, it was holding up, but the creature's assault on it had left the ground between the lines in ruins. But, he still had some time. “He tell you I’m gonna kick your ass?”

The creature’s grin widened, its sharp teeth marring Sam’s handsome face. “He may have alluded to that,” it replied. “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate his faith in you. I just fail to see how a mere mortal could possibly be victorious against me.” Its eyes dropped to the knife Dean still held in his hand. “You don’t think that little toy would actually harm me, do you?”

Dean glanced down, shaking his head. “No,” he replied, tossing the knife aside, “but I will kill you.”

The creature scoffed. “You humans, especially you hunters, are all the same. Taken to such flights of fancy. Such hubris. I shall enjoy decimating your puny race.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “And you creatures are all the same, thinking you’re so much better than us. Yet, I’ve still killed many of you.”

The creature’s smile turned predatory and Dean fought the shiver that raced down his back. “You’ve never met a being like me before.”

“Yeah, and what are you? Some wanna-be god? A holy half-breed? You even got a name? Gonna need to call you something when I tell the world what a sorry excuse for a supernatural creature you are.” 

The creature's eyes narrowed, shining a brilliant blood-red color, and then Dean was flying across the room, slamming into the wall behind him. His head hit the wall hard, his helmet taking the brunt of the impact. 

“You may have trapped me, human, but I can still hurt you.”

“Yeah, I got that, asshole,” Dean huffed, pulling his helmet off and tossing it aside and rubbing the back of his head. “Could’ve just told me your name.”

“I have many names,” the creature answered. “I believe your people have been calling me the Fallen One. Accurate, if a little on the nose. I am the light bringer, the morning star…”

“Phosphorus,” Dean whispered. Cold dread settled in him. This wasn’t just a supernatural creature, this was a god. 

“In your tongue, yes. Do you see now, human? Your little circle of runes may have me trapped now, but it won’t hold me forever. Your little spell work is nothing compared to my power.”

To emphasize his point, the creature, no, Phosphorus, stomped a cloven hoof against the hard packed ground. Dean watched as cracks radiated out, the earth breaking apart. The fissures stopped at the runes, but he knew it was only a matter of time before they, too, shattered. He closed his eyes, mind racing. He had to end this. Now.

“Is Sam…” he broke off, voice wavering. “Is he still in there?”

Phosphorus grinned maliciously. “Oh, yes, he’s in here. He’s screaming at you to run. He seems to think you’re going to survive this.”

Dean nodded. Of course Sam would try and save him before saving himself. The self-sacrificing idiot. Must run in the family, he thought before bracing himself for his next question. “Can I talk to him?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re going to kill me anyway,” Dean snapped. “You could at least let me say goodbye to my brother.”

The creature studied him, a look of curiosity on its face. “You humans are so…peculiar. Such loyalty, you have. My own brothers tried to kill me. Unsuccessfully, obviously, though I did destroy many of them.” It paused, deliberating. “Very well. I believe I’ll find this somewhat entertaining. You have one minute.”

Dean’s breath caught as the coldness in the creature’s eyes receded, the warmth of Sam’s gaze falling on him. “Dean?” His eyes fell on the circle of runes before snapping back to Dean’s. “Dean! You have to go! Now, Dean!”

Dean stepped forward, pulling his brother into an embrace. “Shhh, little brother, it’s okay.”

Sam pulled back, shaking his head. “No, Dean, he’s going to kill you! Please, you have to go. I can’t watch him kill you!” His head dropped to Dean’s shoulder as sobs wracked his body. “I’m sorry, this is all my fault!”

It was Dean’s turn to pull back, and he ducked his head, forcing Sam to meet his eyes. “Hey, no, this isn’t your fault. It was foretold. You can’t fight the fates.” He stretched his hand, forcing open the wound before reaching up and cupping Sam’s face. “You are the best brother I could have asked for.” 

He dropped his hand, his blood stark against Sam’s pale face. He knew he was out of time. 

Dean said the words that would cast the spell. 

“I’m proud of us.”

There was a flash of purple light, and Sam’s hands turned from a loving embrace into a fierce grip on Dean’s chiton, the creature taking hold of Sam’s body again. “What have you done?!” 

Dean tried to step back, but the creature’s legs gave out, and Dean, Dean knew he should run, let the creature fall, but he couldn’t leave Sam. Wouldn’t leave Sam. 

He caught the creature as it fell, meeting its cold stare. “I’m sorry, Sammy,” he whispered, a single tear trailing down his cheek. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

“NO!” The creature bellowed, smashing a fist into the ground. “NOOO!!”

The last thing Dean saw was the creature’s face turn to stone. He felt the tremble of the earth beneath his knees a split second before a blinding flash of light enveloped them. 

And then, nothing.

Chapter Text

Vatican City, Italy
March 2024

“Your signature, Signore Novak, per favore.”

Castiel turned to find the transport driver holding out a clipboard, awaiting his signoff so the truck could depart. He flipped quickly through the pages, double checking the flight details and final transport from the airport to the museum before signing the last page and handing the clipboard back. 

“Grazie,” the man replied. “Everything is loaded so we will leave for the airport now.”

Castiel nodded. “Thank you.”

The man nodded back and turned to leave, jumping into the cab of the truck before carefully pulling away from the curb. Castiel watched the truck make its way around to the front of the building, losing sight of it long before the rumble of the engine faded. 

“Better hope you packed everything,” a voice said from behind him.

He turned, smiling at the unexpected visitor. “Father Gabriel, I didn’t expect to see you again before I left. I really can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for me.”

And he really couldn’t. The last two weeks had been a whirlwind, starting with an email from Father Gabriel approving his request for the Metropolitan Museum of Art to borrow some Ancient Greek artifacts for an upcoming exhibit. Castiel had been the Collections Director for less than a year and, in an effort to have his first exhibit be a success, he’d emailed the Vatican Museum, even though he knew the likelihood of a loan agreement being accepted was slim to none. 

Not only had Father Gabriel approved his request, he’d made dozens of suggestions on which artifacts might be of interest to Castiel and The Met, including items that, according to the priest, hadn’t been seen in public in centuries. Well, there was no way Castiel was turning down that offer, so he’d booked a flight and had spent the last week and a half browsing through the Vatican’s storage and archives, Father Gabriel at his side. The priest had continued making suggestions, pulling manuscripts and documents from the shelves, passing Castiel smaller statues and household items, and sharing what little information he had with Castiel. But it had been Castiel that had found what was bound to be the star of the exhibit.

They wandered through the storage area, Castiel’s feet aching from hours spent browsing the vast space. He was about to call it a day when they turned a corner and Castiel saw it.

Father Gabriel had been distracted by another piece, not noticing when Castiel stepped away to examine the statue. It was unlike anything Castiel had seen before, though he recognized the subjects immediately.

Theseus and the Minotaur.

Castiel knew the myth, of course. Anyone who had ever taken even a rudimentary Classics course knew the story of the Minotaur, a half-man, half-bull creature that lived in the Labyrinth and fed on the sacrifices of young Athenian men and women. Theseus volunteered to slay the beast and end the sacrifices, his victory the subject of thousands of statues, mosaics, and pottery. 

As Castiel stepped closer to the statue, he noted the intricate, circular details of the labyrinth beneath the subjects’ feet. There were cracks in the stone, most ending at intricate sigils that he didn’t recognize. As his eyes traced over the rest of the statue and he saw no further cracks, he wondered if they had been intentional on the part of the sculptor. 

His eyes were drawn to the rendition of the Minotaur, his eyes narrowing and his head tilting in contemplation as he took in the unusual effigy. Where most artists depicted the Minotaur as having the body of a man and the head of the bull, this artist had seemed to merely add bovine features to a man. He had bull horns protruding from his head and his legs were those of a bull. A tail lay limp on the ground beside his body.

What really caught Castiel’s eye, however, was the depiction of Theseus. Castiel had only ever seen him portrayed mid-fight with the Minotaur or standing in victory over the slain beast. Here, though, Theseus was cradling the creature’s body, his head bowed and a look of utter sorrow on his face. Even in grief, though, he was the most beautiful statue Castiel had ever seen.

He turned back to get Father Gabriel’s attention. “What about this one? Is it available for loan?”

Father Gabriel turned to him, his eyes widening when he saw which piece had caught Castiel’s attention. “We have no information on that one,” he said slowly, “no paperwork or anyone who seems to know where it came from or how old it is. We’re not even sure what the subject is.”

“It seems quite likely that it’s Theseus and the Minotaur,” Castiel responded. “The bull-like beast, the Labyrinth…I’m not sure what else it could be.”

Father Gabriel nodded. “That was our best guess, as well. Still, odd way of depicting a victory, don’t you think?”

Castiel turned back towards the statue. “Perhaps the artist heard a different version of the story than we are used to.” His eyes roamed the statue again, always seeming to pause on Theseus’ face. “It’s unusual, for sure. I think at the very least it’s worth some study. The Met would be lucky to have it on display.”

Father Gabriel smiled. “I’ll get the paperwork drawn up.”

“There’s no need to thank me,” Father Gabriel said, pulling Castiel back to the present. “It’s been my pleasure to work with you this past week, Mr. Novak.”

Castiel smiled. “The pleasure was all mine, Father. And please, call me Castiel.”

Father Gabriel hummed. “What do you know of your namesake?”

One of Castiel’s eyebrows raised at the random question. “Umm, not much, I guess. The Angel of Thursday is about all I know. My parents were religious and I was born on a Thursday, so…” he trailed off with a shrug.

Father Gabriel nodded. “He was one of the lesser known angels, but he was fierce. A warrior and protector. The name itself means shield of God and he was that to humanity… a shield against dark forces.” Castiel watched as Father Gabriel looked into the distance. “He fell fighting against Lucifer,” he added quietly. 

Castiel was momentarily taken aback by how stricken Father Gabriel looked, but before he could think of an appropriate response, the priest forced a smile and went on. “Well, that’s what the books say, anyway,” he said, clapping his hands together. “As for you, you keep in touch, you hear me? I’d be happy to work with you again. Now,” he continued, reaching into the inside pocket of the coat he wore, “a parting gift.” 

Castiel raised his hands in protestation, even as the priest tried to pass him the manila envelope he held. “Oh, no, Father Gabriel, you’ve done enough for me, I couldn’t accept this.”

“You don’t even know what this is,” Father Gabriel replied, his eyes twinkling. “Just take a look.”

Castiel sighed but took the envelope, reaching inside and pulling out an ancient piece of parchment. A quick glance showed the writing was in Ancient Greek. “No, Father, this is old, I can’t accept this without the transfer paperwork and -”

“- and nothing,” Father Gabriel said sternly. “That is from my private collection and it is a gift to you, not the museum. I think you’ll find the contents…intriguing.” He took a step back as Castiel tried to hand the envelope back. “Please, Castiel, accept my gift as a token of our newfound friendship.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Castiel mumbled. “Thank you, Father.”

Father Gabriel nodded. “You’re welcome, my son. Now, have a safe journey and we’ll hopefully be in touch soon.”

They shook hands before the priest departed, leaving Castiel to hail a taxi to the airport and begin the long journey home to the States.

New York City, New York

Two days later found Castiel back in New York and back to work. All the items from the Vatican had been delivered and he was currently going over every inch of the Theseus statue, checking for damage, whether from the trip or from the ages. He was surprised to find that, other than the cracks in the ground, the statue was in pristine condition. 

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” 

Castiel jumped, so deeply concentrated on his task he hadn’t heard anyone approach. “What is?” he asked as he turned to find his assistant, Charlie.

“This statue,” she responded, gesturing towards it. “It’s weird.”

Castiel frowned. “I think it’s an interesting portrayal of Theseus and the Minotaur, but I wouldn’t go as far as to say it’s weird. It’s quite exquisite, actually. Whatever material it’s sculpted from hasn’t cracked at all over the centuries.” He pointed to the cracks on the ground of the statue. “I’m quite sure those were deliberately put there by the artist, seeing as there are no other cracks.”

“But why would the artist do that? There’s nothing in the legend about the Labyrinth cracking. And why does homeboy look so sad?” she asked, turning towards Theseus. “Not just sad, but, like, heartbroken.”

Castiel shrugged. “That’s a mystery yet to be solved, I suppose. You haven’t had any luck on that front?”

Charlie sighed dramatically. “Nothing! There is nothing, anywhere, about this statue. You know me, if it’s out there, I can find it, but there’s nothing!”

“Father Gabriel did say they didn’t know much about it,” Castiel mentioned, trying to calm Charlie down.

“Yeah, but you’d think someone, somewhere, would have seen it and mentioned it at some point in history. It’s just weird.” She shook her head. “I asked Inias if he had any ideas but he said he hadn’t seen it yet.”

Castiel frowned. Inias was an intern who was quite knowledgeable on the subject of ancient Greek antiquities and “he was here when I dismantled the crate the statue was shipped in,” he told Charlie.

Charlie raised a brow. “Well, that’s definitely weird. Maybe he thought I was talking about something else?”

“Maybe,” Castiel responded.

“Anyway,” Charlie went on, “wanna know why I think you brought it back?”

“To be the focal point of the exhibit?” Castiel tried.

Charlie grinned. “Nah, it’s because he’s hot!”

“Who’s hot?” Castiel asked, eyes widening when Charlie gestured towards the statue. “Theseus? Charlie! It’s a statue!”

“I don’t hear you denying he’s hot, there, Castiel.”

“It’s a very aesthetically pleasing interpretation of Theseus,” conceded Castiel, narrowing his eyes at Charlie.

“See? Hot!”

“Why are we friends again?”

“‘Cause you love me,” Charlie told him.

“No, I don’t think that’s it,” Castiel responded, fighting hard to keep the smile off his face.

“Yes, it is, and you know it, Novak. Now, are we still on for tomorrow?”

Castiel smiled. He and Charlie had a standing not-a-date night on Saturdays. Sometimes they had movie nights, other times game nights. Every so often Charlie would drag him to a gay bar to “get their gay freak on!” Whatever that meant. He nodded at Charlie’s question. “Of course. Are we doing movies?”

Charlie nodded. “I’ll text you when I’m on my way over.”  She turned and grabbed her bag from where she’d dropped it when she’d come in. “I’m heading out. Peace out, Novak!”

“Have a goodnight, Charlie.”

After Charlie’s departure, Castiel headed back to his office, determined to get through at least some of the paperwork that had piled up in his absence. Why people still felt the need to send actual, physical papers was beyond him. Sure, if he was studying an ancient text the original material was preferred over a picture on a screen, but why did resumes and contracts and loan agreements still land on his desk and not in his email? If everyone just went electronic he could have kept up somewhat during his absence.

He sighed, flipping through the pages, trying to decide where to start, cursing when the edge of some wanna-be intern’s resume cut his thumb. He sucked his thumb, tasting the barest hint of blood, while he looked at the resume. “Kevin Tran,” he murmured around his thumb. “Kinda want to just trash your resume for making me bleed.” 

He pulled his thumb out of his mouth and set the resume aside, vowing to give the kid an actual chance when he actually looked through the resumes. Going back to his pile of papers, he was distracted by the manila envelope Father Gabriel had given him. He hadn’t looked at it since Italy, too busy making sure all the borrowed items arrived safely. He checked his watch, seeing it was already after the museum’s closing time, long after he should have left, and decided work could wait while he took a look at his gift.

Castiel gently pulled the parchment from the envelope with his left hand, avoiding touching it with his right thumb to avoid getting blood on it, laying it flat on his desk. It wasn’t large, maybe half the size of a standard sheet of paper, but it was completely covered in writing. 

He stumbled slowly over the writing, his Ancient Greek reading comprehension not nearly as solid as his spoken Ancient Greek. He was still jet lagged and his eyes were burning, but he wanted to at least get some idea of what the parchment was about.

It took about half an hour to deduce that it was some sort of fairy tale about a bleeding messenger with no grace bringing a dead valley to life before the morning star rose. And further down, something about a sword and a witch and magic and…

Castiel rubbed his eyes. None of it was making sense and he wasn’t sure if it was because he was too tired to translate properly or if the story was just as outlandish as it appeared. His thumb throbbed as he pinched the bridge of his nose and he decided to call it a day. 

He left his office, turning off the lights and heading back through the studio, pausing once again by the enigmatic statue, wondering what the artist had been thinking as he carved the stone. His eyes trailed from where Theseus cradled the beast, up his arms, over his jaw, and to his expressive eyes, so full of heartbreak. Whoever the artist was, they had done an exceptional job of portraying the warrior’s emotions, even if Castiel couldn’t understand them.

He stepped closer, brow furrowing and head tilting as he thought. “Why are you so sad?” he murmured, reaching his hand up in a futile effort to wipe away a tear of stone.

The statue didn’t answer, but as his thumb brushed over the teardrop there was a blinding flash of light. Castiel threw his arm over his eyes just before what felt like an explosion knocked him to the ground. He hit his head as he fell, and he realized moments later that he must have been briefly knocked out. He groaned as he peeled his eyes open and stared up to the ceiling where the lights had all been blown out, the emergency lights just starting to kick in. 

There was a rustling sound from somewhere towards his feet, but before he could move his head, something heavy settled over him.

And something that felt exceptionally sharp was pressed against his throat.

“Tís eî?”

Chapter Text

It took a minute for Castiel’s brain to catch up with the fact that not only was someone holding a blade to his throat, but that also said someone was speaking Ancient Greek. It took another minute for his brain to go into translation mode.

“Who are you?” the man repeated. “Where are we?"

“Ummm,” said Castiel intelligently. His brain may have caught up with some of what was going on, but it was still stuck on the fact that there was something very sharp very close to his neck. Something that was being held by someone that looked strangely familiar.

He closed his eyes, mentally shaking his head before opening them again and peering into the moss green eyes that stared back at him. Whoever this intruder was, he had beautiful eyes. Castiel’s gaze tracked across his (surprisingly symmetrical) face, noting his strong jaw and his pouty lips and his sandy blonde hair that was just long enough for someone to get a good grip on and…

Get a grip, he berated himself, you’re about to be murdered. Don’t fantasize about the killer.

The man seemed to be growing impatient, if his shifting over Castiel and the further press of the blade against his throat were any indication. But as he shifted, Castiel saw something he never expected.

Behind the man’s shoulder, the statue stood. Only…half of it was missing. The Minotaur was still there, suspended in midair, but Theseus…

Castiel’s eyes widened as they snapped back to the man above him. The man who looked exactly like the statue, except instead of heartbreak, his face was now a mix of anger and confusion.

“Theseus?” he whispered. 

The man’s eyebrows rose in shock, before he rolled his eyes. “Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me!" he snarled. “Did that asshole take credit for this?” He leaned back, removing the - Castiel chanced a glance down… sword , he realized - from his neck. “I’m gonna fucking kick his ass!”

“So….you’re not Theseus?"  Castiel asked, more confused than ever.

“No! Fuck that guy! He’s just a spoiled rich kid who couldn’t find his way off his mother’s tit, let alone be a hunter!"

Castiel nodded along, even though his confusion wasn’t abating. He watched as the man ranted, waving the sword around haphazardly, his muscles bulging as they moved. His cloak hung off one shoulder, draping to the floor and his chiton bunched around his knees. He racked his brain trying to remember if the ancient Greeks wore undergarments.

Castiel realized two things in that moment.

1. He must have hit his head harder than he thought if he truly believed he was speaking to a statue come to life, and
2. He really needed to get laid.

The man had stopped speaking and was now looking around, taking in their surroundings. “Where the fuck are we?"

“New York,” Castiel answered.

“Neww Yooorrk,” the man repeated slowly. “What is this place?"

“A museum."

The man’s eyes brightened. “Like in the capital? Is that where we are?"

“No, that’s Washington,” Castiel answered distractedly, watching as the man mouthed the foreign word. “Who are you?"

The man scowled. “I asked you first."

“I’m Castiel."

“Cas-tee-el,” he repeated slowly. “That sounds foreign. I’m - ” he was interrupted as Castiel’s cell phone started blaring. “What the fuck is that?!" he demanded, bringing the tip of the sword to the hollow of Castiel’s neck.

Castiel raised his hands in supplication. “It’s my… ” he trailed off, desperately thinking of how to describe a phone to someone from the past. “It’s a communication device. It allows me to speak to people over long distances.”  The phone stopped ringing before he could answer.

The man’s eyes narrowed. “So you’re a sorcerer? Is that why you woke me?"

Castiel frowned. “I’m not a sorcerer and I don’t know why you’re here,”  he said as his phone began to ring again.

“Make it stop!"

“They’ll keep trying!"

“Then speak to them!"

Castiel huffed and hit the green button, bringing the phone to his face. “Hello?”

“Hello, sweetie, to whom am I speaking?” came a lilting, Scottish voice.

Castiel frowned. “Shouldn’t you know since you called me?”

“Ack, don’t take that tone with me, boy. I’m not the one at the center of a great disturbance, am I? Now, your name?”

“Umm…Castiel.”

There was an exasperated sigh before the woman responded. “Of course it is. I suppose you’re the one who woke the lad?” 

“...Maybe?”

“Well, did you or didn’t you? It was a blood spell, only blood could awaken him. What did you do, get a nosebleed and sneeze on him?”

“What? No, of course not. I…” he trailed off with a groan. “I had a paper cut,” he practically whispered.

“Tch, that’ll do it. Doesn’t take much with these blood spells. I assume he’s still there? May I speak with him please?”

“...OK.” Castiel held the phone out towards the man. “It’s for you.”

The man looked down at the phone before looking back at Castiel. “The fuck do I do with that?"

Castiel sighed, tapping the speaker button. “You’re on speaker phone,” he told the mysterious caller. His jaw dropped in surprise when the voice on the other end began speaking fluent Ancient Greek.

“Hello, Hunter. It’s been a long time.”

The man’s eyes widened and he looked shocked as he grabbed the phone out of Castiel’s hand. “High Priestess?! How are you in this box?"  he asked, turning it over in his hands.

There was a lovely giggle before the woman responded. “It’s quite convenient, isn’t it? And there’s no need to call me by that title anymore. I haven’t been High Priestess in many a year.”

The man licked his lips. “How long?"  When there was no answer, he asked again. “Rowena, how long?"

“How long since I was High Priestess or how long have you been gone?"

The man paused, uncertain. “How long since Sammy?"

“Oh, laddie, it’s been over three and a half millennia.”

The man shook his head. “That’s not…that’s…why now?"

“Well, I assume that has to do with your mystery man, there. I don’t have all the answers, Hunter. I just felt a disturbance in the magics a little while ago. Not how I expected to be spending my Friday night.”

“How did you get this number?"  Castiel interrupted.

“Magic,” the woman - Rowena - answered simply, before asking her own question. “Where are you?"

“Neww Yooorrk,” the man told her proudly, before his face fell. “I don’t know where that is.”

“That’s alright, sweetie, I know where it is. You just stay with Castiel and I’ll be there shortly.”

She disconnected, leaving Castiel on the floor with the man still straddling him. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Umm… would you mind getting off me?"

The man glanced away from where he was still turning Castiel’s phone over in his hands. “Why would I do that?"  he asked, a smirk pulling his lips up.

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “If you’re going to accost me, you could at least tell me your name first.”

The smirk turned into a grin. “Oh, buddy, if I was accosting you, you wouldn’t be able to form words right now,”  he said with a wink.

Castiel blushed and the man’s grin grew before he gracefully stood and held a hand out to Castiel, pulling him to his feet. “Dean,”  he said, his breath washing over Castiel’s face. “My name’s Dean.”

Castiel stared into his eyes, suddenly wanting nothing more than this to not be a concussion-induced hallucination. “Am I dreaming?" 

Dean’s smile fell and he stepped back from Castiel. “I’m afraid not,"  he said sadly, his eyes moving towards the remains of the statue.

Castiel followed his gaze. “So, if you’re not Theseus,”  he started, smiling at Dean’s eye roll, “then I assume that’s not the Minotaur?"

“The what?"

“The Minotaur,”  Castiel repeated. “You know, half-man, half-bull?"

Dean shook his head. “There’s no such thing.”

Castiel raised a brow at that. “But I’m supposed to believe that magic and statues coming to life are real?"

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you. Minotaurs aren’t real. Centaurs, those are real. Lycanthropes, real. Satyrs, sphinxes, harpies? All real. Half-man, half-bull? Sorry, Cas, not a thing.”

Castiel smiled at the nickname. “So who is it?"  he asked, gesturing towards the statue.

Dean dropped his eyes to the ground. “My brother.”

Castiel stared at him in shock, unsure what to say. A million questions darted through his mind, but before he could voice any of them, there was a brilliant, purple flash of light. Both men turned towards it, seeing a woman step out from the twisting smoke surrounding her. She had fiery red hair, pale skin, and was wearing an elegant green evening gown. She smiled at them, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Hello, boys.”

“Rowena!"  Dean sighed, striding forward as Castiel watched and scooping the petite woman up in his arms, swinging her around. “You haven’t changed a bit! Shouldn’t you be a pile of dust by now?"

The woman giggled. “Tch, you know how it is. A pinch of this and a dash of that. It’s all about the magic, Hunter.”  She looked over Dean’s shoulder, spotting Castiel. “Ooh, you’re a pretty one! You must be Castiel!"  She stepped closer, holding out a dainty hand for him to shake. “Rowena McLeod, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Um, hello,”  Castiel responded, blushing at her compliment.

“You have a second name now?"  Dean asked.

“Most people do these days, boy. We’ll have to get you one at some point."

Rowena turned away from them both, stepping closer to the remains of the statue, before pulling out her phone and turning on the flashlight app. Castiel heard Dean gasp beside him. “Your talking box has a torch!"

Rowena smiled, dragging the light slowly across the remains of the statue. “Oh, sweetie, there are so many inventions you’re just going to love! Wait until you learn about cars!"  Her smile faded into a frown and Castiel watched as she reached out, tracing a thin finger along a crack in the statue. 

He stepped closer for a better look. “That wasn’t there before,” he told her.

She shook her head. “No, that was part of the magic. To keep them pristine until they awoke. Wouldn’t do to have our hunter wake up without his head.”  She shook her head. “This isn’t good.”

Dean stepped up beside them, eyeing the crack. “He’s waking up?"  At Rowena’s nod, he swore. “Shit!"

Castiel frowned. “You’re not happy? I thought it was your brother?"

Dean’s eyes grew distant. “It was my brother. The beast took over him.”  He leaned closer to Rowena as the light from her phone illuminated the crack. As they all watched, it grew about half an inch. “How long do we have?"

Rowena chewed at her lip. “A day, if we’re lucky. I can strengthen the spell and slow it down a little, but I can’t stop it. I can gain us an extra day, if that. I don’t have the power to slow it down further.”

“I can help with that,”  came a voice from behind them, causing all three of them to turn.

“Holy man?"  said Dean, confusion in his voice.

“Father Gabriel?"  asked Castiel, just as confused.

“Oh, bollocks, not you,” sighed Rowena in English, causing Dean to glance at her in confusion.

Father Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Nice to see you, too, Ro.” He turned towards Castiel. “Castiel, it actually is good to see you, though I had hoped it would be longer before our paths crossed again.”

Castiel gaped at the man. Father Gabriel was no longer dressed in his priest habit, but was instead wearing jeans, boots, and a simple black t-shirt. “Father Gabriel, what are you doing here? How did you get here?”

“What the fuck are you guys saying?"  interrupted Dean.

“Ah, yes! Apologies, old friend. Here,”  he said, reaching out and placing two fingers against Dean’s forehead. Castiel watched as a glowing, silvery-blue light emanated from his fingers. “Better?” he asked in English.

Dean’s eyes grew wide. “What…how? What is this language?”

Castiel’s jaw dropped as Dean began speaking perfect English, complete with a Kansas accent that seemed to suit the man. His eyes swung back to Father Gabriel. “How did…what…what the fuck is going on?”

The priest smiled. “Well, first, I’m not a priest, so you can drop the whole Father bit. Second, I’m an angel, and third, I just put the entire English language into Dean’s head.” 

Castiel had to force himself to close his mouth. God, his head was pounding from where it had hit the floor, compounded with all the thoughts racing through it. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “You’re an angel?”

“Yep!”

“And you’re a….witch?” he asked Rowena.

“Aye.”

He nodded, turning to Dean. “And you’re…?”

Dean grinned. “A hunter.”

Castiel’s mind flashed back to all the mythological creatures Dean had been sure were real. “You…hunt…creatures?” he asked slowly.

Dean nodded. “Creatures, entities, you know, the supernatural.”

“I….I think I need to sit down,” Castiel said quietly, suddenly feeling quite faint.

Gabriel stepped forward and clamped a hand onto his shoulder and the next thing Castiel felt was a dizzying sensation before he found himself standing in his living room. “What…?”

“Be right back,” Gabriel said with a wink, disappearing and reappearing with Dean and Rowena. “I brought your car back, too,” he said.

“You can teleport?!" Castiel asked.

Gabriel gave him the most condescending look he’d ever seen, which was saying a lot since he grew up with Naomi Novak as a mother. “No, dude. Angel? Wings? I flew.”

Castiel closed his eyes and slumped down onto his couch. “Of course you did,” he muttered sullenly. His eyes snapped open as a long lost memory of Sunday school came to him. “Wait… Gabriel? Like…the archangel?"

Gabriel grinned. “In the flesh! Now! I assume you read the prophecy and that’s why we’re all gathered here? Are we ready to hopefully not raise a little hell?”

“Prophecy?” Castiel asked. “What prophecy?”

Gabriel’s smile fell. “You didn’t read it? How did you wake Dean-o up then?”

“It appears the lad had a papercut and touched the statue without knowing what it would do,” Rowena explained, settling herself on the couch beside him. “You really should have read the prophecy.”

“I have no idea what either of you are talking about,” Castiel said tiredly. 

“What’s a hobbit?” Dean piped up.

Castiel looked over to where Dean stood by his bookcase, a copy of The Hobbit in his hands. “It’s a mythical creature,” he said before looking back between Rowena and Gabriel. “Right? They are mythical? Hobbits aren’t real, too, are they?”

Rowena smiled kindly at him. “No, laddie, they aren’t real.”

Dean nodded and replaced the book, wandering around Castiel’s living room, poking at all the things he’d never seen before. He looked comfortably at ease, despite his warrior’s clothing. “He needs some clothes,” Castiel mumbled. 

Gabriel glanced over at Dean, nodding, before he smiled. “You still have the sword!”

Dean put down the lamp he was examining and turned back towards the group. “Didn’t have much chance to use it,” he said, pulling out the sword that had previously been perilously close to Castiel’s neck. “You want it back?” he asked, holding out the sword to Gabriel.

Gabriel took the sword and Castiel was able to get an actual look at it now. It was…unusual. It was short, more like a dagger than a sword, and seemed to be triple-edged. But the most unusual thing about it was its color - an almost silvery-white that reflected a slight greenish color when the light hit it at a certain angle. “What is that?” he asked.

“Angel blade,” Gabriel answered. “It’s made of seraphinite.” He passed the blade carefully to Castiel. “It was my brother’s.”

The blade felt warm in his hand when Castiel accepted it and as he examined it, he couldn’t find a single imperfection on it. “It’s beautiful,” he said, handing it back. 

Gabriel nodded before handing it back to Dean. “Keep it. The prophecy said you’ll need it.”

Dean took the blade back and replaced it in its scabbard before sitting on the arm of the couch. “This prophecy you guys keep mentioning…it’s the one the Seer had before everything went down?”

“That’s right,” Rowena said, “you didn’t stick around long enough to hear it, did you?”

Dean shrugged. “Gabe said it didn’t change the plan and we didn’t have much time.”

“Would someone please tell me what’s going on?” Castiel asked.

Rowena patted his knee gently. “You’re a scholar, yes?” At Castiel’s nod she went on. “What do you know of Santorini?”

Castiel raised a brow. “The Greek island? Umm, not much, other than part of it was destroyed by a volcanic eruption in, uhhh…about 1650 BCE.”

Dean looked at him sharply before turning to Rowena. “We destroyed the island?!”

“Not all of it,” Rowena answered at the same time Castiel exclaimed “What do you mean you destroyed it?!”

“Looks like it’s story time,” Gabriel said. “Why doesn’t Dean fill you in while Ro and I go boost her spell to contain the beast for a little longer? Oh, and here, read this,” he added, snapping his fingers and making a piece of parchment appear out of nowhere. He handed it to Castiel, who immediately recognized it as the parchment Gabriel had given him right before he left Italy. 

A moment later Gabriel had disappeared with Rowena, leaving him alone with Dean. “I need a drink,” he said, getting to his feet and padding to the kitchen. He could hear Dean following behind him. 

He opened the fridge and could hear Dean’s huff of amazement as he stepped close enough for the cool air to reach him. “This is…a fridge?” he tried, searching for the right word in the vastness of the language Gabriel had dumped on him. “It keeps your food fresh?”

Castiel nodded, grabbing two beers and using the edge of the counter to pop the caps off. He handed one to Dean before taking a long swallow. He watched curiously as Dean copied his movements, his face lighting up. “This is good!”

Castiel smiled. “You had beer in your time. This can’t be that different?”

Dean took another swallow. “It’s cold and…the taste is different. But it’s good!”

Castiel gestured towards the kitchen table, urging Dean to take a seat as he did so himself. He pulled the parchment Gabriel had left towards himself and began reading through it once again. Dean sat beside him, leaning close to read through the writings as well. Between the two of them, they had the parchment translated within twenty minutes.

The blood of the graceless messenger
Will bring new life to the valley
And the morning star will rise.
With the sword of the seraph,
With the blood of the warrior,
With the heart of the graceless messenger,
With the help of the demon
With the magic of the new witch,
He shall fall again. For eternity.

“I don’t know what any of this means,” Castiel said wearily, rubbing at his eyes. He turned to Dean. “Tell me about your brother?”

Dean sighed, his eyes dropping and his fingers playing with the edges of the bottle’s label. “There was a prophecy about two brothers - one a hunter, one a scholar - who would have to choose between each other and humanity. One would have to kill the other to save the world.” He paused, his eyes growing distant. “Sammy was so smart. Our parents were hunters, so we grew up in that life, but Sammy always cared more about learning than killing. He learned everything he could from anyone he could. If I was hunting something, he’d help me figure out what it was and how to kill it.

“He had a vision one night. He’d never had them before but he believed in it. Said a being had come to him and promised peace on earth if he could use Sammy’s body as a vessel. And Sam…Sam cared so much about everyone, he’d have done anything to bring peace. So, he said yes.”

Dean paused, shaking his head before taking another swig from his bottle. “What happened?” Castiel asked quietly.

“It lied,” Dean said simply. “Well, not really. He said he was incapable of lying and I think that was true. He just hadn’t told the whole truth. His version of peace on earth was wiping out humanity. But of course, Sam had already said yes to him and once he took over, there was no way for Sam to get rid of him.”

“So you trapped him.”

Dean nodded. “Rowena and Gabriel designed the trap…that’s what the pattern and sigils on the ground were. We knew he’d been seen around Akrotiri, so we placed the trap in a villa and cleared the village out. Then we summoned him. We didn’t know if it had worked until the tremors started.”

“Tremors?” Castiel asked.

“The ground was shaking, splitting open. Rowena cast her sight out and saw the tremors were coming from the villa. Gods, people were terrified, running towards the coastline.” He shook his head with a bitter laugh. “I was the only idiot running towards the chaos.”

“You were trying to save your brother.”

Dean shook his head. “I was trying to save everyone. At the cost of my brother. I knew we weren’t going to survive. But that’s the life of a hunter.”

“What happened?”

“When I got there, it wasn’t Sammy anymore. He - it - was trying to break the trap. The earth was cracking but the sigils were holding. That thing, he just seemed so indifferent to the destruction he was causing, like we were nothing more than insects to him.

"I knew he wouldn’t let me get close to him, so I asked to say goodbye to Sam. And the asshole let me! Said we were curious creatures full of loyalty. Told me he’d killed his own brothers but he’d find our goodbye entertaining, so he let Sam come through.”

Dean lowered his eyes, but not before Castiel could see the tears threatening to spill over. “Sam told me to run, but I had to trigger the spell. I’d cut my hand before,” he explained, holding out his right hand where Castiel could see the jagged cut, still glistening as though it had been mere hours since Dean had cut it. Which, Castiel mused, to Dean, it had been only hours. “I touched his face and said the words and the spell activated. Next thing I knew there was a bright flash and then nothing.”

“He released a burst of power before the spell could stop him,” came Rowena’s voice and both Castiel and Dean turned to find her and Gabriel standing by the counter. “That’s what destroyed Santorini.”

Castiel shook his head. “Everyone has always thought it was a volcano…”

Gabriel nodded. “There is a volcano under the island so we thought it was as good an excuse as any. We,” he said, nodding towards Rowena, “put a glamor on the island so that’s all people would see…a catastrophic volcanic eruption.”

“What kind of creature has such power?” asked Castiel.

“A god,” said Dean simply. “He was a god. He said he had many names, but the one I knew him by was Phosphorus.”

Castiel frowned. “Phosphorus was a lesser god, I don’t know much about him,” he admitted.

“You probably know him by his other names,” Gabriel told him with a sigh. “Dean’s right, he has many. You probably know him best as the Morning Star, or the Light-Bringer, or…”

“Lucifer,” Castiel whispered. “You’re talking about Lucifer.” Gabriel nodded solemnly. Castiel looked back to the translation he and Dean had written. “The morning star will rise…that’s Lucifer?” When Gabriel nodded again, Castiel felt his face pale. “I did this? I woke the devil? How? I don’t understand!”

Rowena came and stood behind him, patting his shoulder gently while she read the translation. “You’ve translated angelos incorrectly. T’is true it originally meant messenger, but now what does it mean?”

“Angel,” Castiel answered automatically, watching as Rowena flicked a finger towards the paper and the words corrected themselves.

The blood of the graceless angel
Will bring new life to the valley
And the morning star will rise.
With the sword of the seraph,
With the blood of the warrior,
With the heart of the graceless angel,
With the help of the demon
With the magic of the new witch,
He shall fall again. For eternity.

“But I’m not an angel, graceless or otherwise,” Castiel protested. “How could my blood cause this.”

“Names have great power in magic,” Rowena told him. “Surely you know you are named for an angel?”

Castiel nodded, his gaze drifting to where Gabriel still stood by the counter. “You said he fell in battle against Lucifer.”

“He did,” Gabriel told him. “We were close, Castiel and I. We fought in the same garrison against Lucifer’s forces. He was killed while I was away creating the trap with Rowena.”

Castiel felt Dean stir next to him, looking over to see Dean’s hand had fallen to the scabbard tied to his waist. “This was his sword?”

Gabriel nodded. “The prophecy spoke of a seraph’s sword and he was a seraph, so…” he shrugged. 

“So, all this happened because I’m named after him?!” Castiel asked incredulously.

“This happened because it was foretold,” Gabriel told him. “There was nothing you could do to stop it. For someone to have the name, the sight, and the blood contact all at once? It hasn’t happened. In over thirty-six hundred years. Sure, some people had the sight, others had the name, a few who had one or the other bled on them -” (“Eww,” Dean interrupted) “-but never all three at once.”

“What do you mean the sight?" Castiel asked, getting to his feet to grab another beer. 

Gabriel raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Uhh…exactly that, bucko. No one else can see the statue. It’s got a glamor on it like the island does. Anyone without the sight, their eyes just pass over it. If they somehow come into contact with it, they immediately forget. People with the sight are rare; right now there are only two people on the planet with it, you and a fiery Japanese girl named Rei Hino.”

Castiel considered that, thinking back to how Inias had claimed not to have seen the statue and Charlie hadn’t found any evidence of the statue’s existence online. But… “Why could Charlie see it?”

Three pairs of eyes snapped towards him and they all spoke at once.

“Who the fuck is Charlie?!”

Chapter Text

After Cas had explained who Charlie was and called her asking her to come over, they’d migrated back to the living room and Dean finally had the chance to ask the question that had been plaguing him.

“What exactly is an angel?” 

“We’re the children of God,” Gabriel explained. “Not the gods you know. But the one who created everything, including your gods. The angels are His children, His warriors and messengers. He’s kind of hands-off now, so we do the work for Him. Delivering prophecies to the seers, healing, fighting His wars.”

Dean nodded, looking down at the cut on his hand. “So you could heal this?”

Gabriel smiled, reaching over and tapping Dean’s forehead. He felt a cool sensation wash through his body and watched as the skin on his hand knitted itself back together. “There ya go, champ. No cuts, bruises or STDs,” he said, winking at Cas. 

Dean glanced over and saw Cas blush. “I don’t know what an STD is,” he said truthfully.

“Nasty things,” Rowena answered. “Sex diseases.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste before excusing herself to “visit the little girl’s room.”

Dean paused, considering his next question. “So, this Phosphorus…uh..Lucifer? He’s an angel?”

Gabriel nodded. “An archangel, like me. We’re the highest ranked angels. The most powerful.”

“So, what? We trap him again? With Sam? Is there a way to save Sammy?”

“The prophecy doesn’t say either way,” Gabriel answered and Dean felt his shoulders slump in defeat. “Hey, that’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Gabriel continued as there was a knock at the door, Cas rising to answer it. “That means there’s a chance.”

Dean nodded, glancing up as Cas walked in with a petite redhead behind him. “Oh! I didn’t know you had company, Cas.” She looked around, her eyes landing on Dean. “Cool cosplay, dude.”

Dean’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I…don’t know what that means.”

The girl nodded slowly. “OK, then…well, I’m Charlie and Cas said he had an emergency, so…what the frack is going on?”

Rowena chose that moment to re-enter the room, her eyes narrowing as they landed on Charlie. “Oh, bollocks. You’re taking the mic out of me, aren’t you?” 

Dean had no idea what that meant, and by the look on Cas and Charlie’s faces, they didn’t either. He turned to look at Gabriel who had a gleeful smile on his face. “Oh, this is too much!” the shorter man exclaimed, sitting down on the couch and snapping his fingers. A bowl of something appeared beside him on the couch and he nudged it towards Dean. “Popcorn,” he said. “Good to eat while there’s entertainment happening!”

Dean frowned, turning back towards Rowena. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“She’s of my blood!” Rowena scowled. “That no-good, lousy oaf! Bollocks!”

Charlie turned towards Cas. “What’s happening?” she whispered.

Cas shook his head. “I have no idea.”

Gabriel took a handful of popcorn, shoving it in his mouth, just as Rowena yelled “FERGUS!”

Dean startled as a plume of black smoke materialized behind Cas and Charlie, a man in black clothes stepping out, dusting himself off. “You screeched, Mother?”

Charlie stifled a scream as she stepped closer to Cas. “Seriously, dude, what the fuck is happening?”

Gabriel grabbed another handful of popcorn. 

“Look at her,” Rowena commanded, waving a hand at Charlie, who inched closer to Cas. 

The new guest tilted his head, gazing at Charlie for a moment before his face lit up. “No!”

“Yes!” Rowena bit out. “You didn’t tell me Gavin had a child!”

“I didn’t know!” the new man retorted. “The boy hated me. He didn’t tell me where he played hide the sausage !”

“Wait,” Charlie said timidly. “Gavin? Gavin McLeod?”

The man turned back to Charlie. “You know him?”

Charlie nodded. “He was my great-great-great-grandfather.”

The man smiled. “Well, that makes me your great-great-great-great-grandfather, and the bit - sorry - witch over there your great-great-great-great-great-grandmother.” He held out his hand. “But please, call me Crowley.”

Charlie glanced at Cas who just shrugged, before holding out her hand and shaking Crowley’s hand. “Umm, no offense, but…shouldn’t you be, you know, dead?”

“Half the people in this room should be dead, but that hasn’t stopped us yet!” He turned towards Gabriel, nodding shortly. “Gabriel. Been a while.” 

“Not long enough,” Gabriel responded.

Crowley rolled his eyes, turning to Dean, his eyes raking over Dean’s body, leaving him feeling suddenly naked. “You must be the illustrious hunter of Mother’s legend. Dean, was it?”

Dean nodded. “That’s me,” he said shortly, not wanting to encourage further attention from the man. He glanced helplessly towards Cas.

Cas cleared his throat. “Why don’t we get Charlie up to speed?”

An hour later, Charlie was caught up. Dean thought she’d taken it quite well, all things considered. She hadn’t been there when he’d awoken, hadn’t seen the remains of the statue or Rowena and Gabriel appear and disappear. Despite that, she’d seemingly accepted everything.

“I knew there was something weird about that statue,” she’d explained. “I couldn’t find any info on it anywhere!”

“That’s the glamor,” Gabriel had told her.

“And I can see it because I have, what? Witch blood in me?”

Rowena had tilted her head back and forth. “Sort of. There are a lot of people out there with witch’s blood in them, but they wouldn’t be able to see the statue.”

“Why not?” Charlie asked.

“Because the witch wasn’t as powerful as Mother,” Crowley told her. “As much as I hate to admit it, she is the most powerful witch to ever walk the earth.”

Rowena’s face softened. “Thank you, boy.”

Crowley rolled his eyes and didn’t respond.

“So, you’re a witch, too?” Charlie asked him.

“Oh, gods no,” Crowley told her. “I’m a demon.”

Dean frowned. “You’re in the prophecy,” he told Crowley, nodding at the paper on the coffee table. Charlie reached out and grabbed it, skimming through it quickly.

“You’re not named specifically,” she said, “but I don’t see why it wouldn’t be you.” She raised her eyes, looking around at everyone. “So, is this it? Team Avert-the-Apocalypse?”

“Well, unless anyone else has any long-lost descendants,” Rowena tutted, glaring at Dean.

Dean smirked at her. “Don’t think anyone I slept with had the right parts for baby making.” From the corner of his eye he saw Cas’ head snap towards him and he looked over, eyes narrowing. “You got a problem with me bedding men?” he challenged.

To his surprise, it was Charlie that answered. “Cas has no such problem,” she assured. “And the word you’re looking for is fucking. You fuck men. Like Cas! In fact, just this afternoon he was waxing poetic about how hot you -”

“Charlie!” Cas hissed, his cheeks now a pretty pink. “Shut up!”

Charlie grinned at Dean. “Just saying,” she shrugged before looking back at the paper in her hand. “OK, so let’s break this down. The blood of the graceless angel. That’s apparently you, Cas.”

Cas nodded and Charlie continued. “Will bring new life to the valley. What’s that mean?”

“That’s Dean,” said Gabriel.

Dean felt himself frown. “Why am I a valley? Why not a hunter, or warrior, or hero? Something exciting?” he pouted.

Gabriel rolled his eyes at him. “It's your name, dummy. Dean means valley.”

“Well, that’s stupid,” Dean muttered to himself. Charlie patted his knee in comfort before continuing. “And the morning star will rise. Lucifer, obvi. I’m guessing the next part is just who’s involved in getting rid of him?”

Rowena nodded. “Aye. The sword of the seraph - that’s Gabriel’s brother’s sword. The blood of the warrior - there, Hunter, they called you a warrior, are you happy?” she teased. Dean scowled at her. “The heart of the graceless angel - that’s you again, Castiel.  The help of the demon,” she sighed. “That’s you, boy,” she said to Crowley.

“What the hell am I supposed to do?” Crowley asked.

Rowena shrugged, brushing him off. “You help in whatever way is needed,” she told him sternly, brooking no argument. “Probably by keeping your minions in line.”

“Minions?” Cas asked.

Crowley smirked at him. “Oh, did I forget to mention? I’m the King of Hell.”

“Of course you are,” Cas muttered.

“What’s Hell?” Dean asked.

“Hades,” Cas answered, and Dean nodded.

Charlie continued. “The magic of the new witch. That’s me?” Rowena nodded. “But I don’t know anything about magic!”

Rowena squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll help you, lass, don’t worry.” She glanced down at the last line on the page. “He shall fall again. For eternity. Well, that sounds rather promising! Not may fall or could fall.” 

“So where are you and Gabe in all this?” Dean asked. “The prophecy doesn't mention either of you.”

“We’ll be here to help,” Gabriel answered.

“More pressingly,” Cas started quietly, “this doesn’t mean my actual heart, right?”

Dean’s eyes flickered between Gabriel and Rowena. “I ain’t killing Cas,” he told them, looking over at the man in question. Cas smiled softly at him. “We’ll find another way if that’s what this means.”

Charlie nodded agreement. “I second the motion!”

“Calm down, children,” Rowena chided gently. “We’re not sacrificing anyone. Not this time.” She paused, picking up the paper and reading through the lines again. “It doesn’t sound like it means his literal heart. The whole thing is full of figurative language. ‘The valley’ instead of your name. ‘The graceless angel.’ I think we can assume they mean heart in the figurative sense.”

“So, like, courage?” asked Charlie.

“Could be,” Rowena nodded. 

“Well, this has all been very entertaining,” Crowley started, getting to his feet, “but if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to. How long do we have?”

“We were able to boost the strength of the bindings only slightly,” Rowena told him. “We have three days at most, likely fewer.”

Crowley nodded. “I’ll be in touch,” he said before disappearing.

“That is so weird,” Charlie said, sounding somewhat awestruck.

“Well, it’s your lucky day, child, because you’re coming with me in the same manner,” Rowena told her. “It’s time to start your training.”

Cas stood abruptly. “What? No! You can’t just take her!”

Charlie turned towards him. “I’ll be OK, Cas,” she said softly, standing and stepping closer. “Besides, it’s not like we have a choice.”

Cas nodded and pulled her into a hug. “Be careful,” he whispered.

Charlie nodded before turning back to Dean. “You take care of this guy, OK?” she ordered. 

Dean smiled. “I will, Charlie.”

Charlie hesitated before reaching down and pulling him into a hug. Dean was so surprised he barely had time to wrap his arms around her before she was pulling away. She stood next to Rowena who took her hand and in the next moment, they were gone in a puff of smoke.

Dean looked towards Gabriel. “So, now what?”

“Well, I’m going back to Heaven, see if I can gather any useful information. I suggest you two get some rest.”

Cas nodded. “How do we get in contact with you?”

“Just pray if you need me,” Gabriel said and promptly disappeared.

Dean and Cas stared at each other for a long moment. “So,” Dean started, “this is kind of awkward.”

Cas cleared his throat. “Yes, umm, my apologies. My manners seem to have disappeared. Can I get you anything? Would you like to shower?”

Dean paused, his mind fitting the word shower into a meaning he understood. “You mean bathe? That would be great! Where is your bathhouse?”

Cas smiled. “Follow me.”

He followed Cas down a hallway and through a door, eyes widening when he saw tiled walls and a large basin. “Your bathhouse is in your house?” he asked in awe.

Cas huffed a laugh. “All houses have a bathroom,” he explained gently. He showed Dean the closet full of towels and then showed him how to work the plumbing, Dean’s awe only growing. “You can have a bath or a shower, it’s your choice.” He paused, his eyes dropping to the floor. “I can bring you some clothes, if you’d like? We’re about the same size…”

Dean ducked his head to meet Cas’ eyes. “That would be great, Cas. Thanks,” he said softly.

Cas nodded. “I’ll leave them in the guest room, right across the hall,” he said pointing. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you want to come find me after. Or you can rest. Whichever you prefer.

Dean smiled. “I’m starving, so I’ll definitely come find you.”

Cas nodded once again before turning and leaving the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Dean turned towards the shower, untying the scabbard and laying it gently on the counter before removing the rest of his garments, letting them drop to the floor. He started the water, waiting as Cas had told him for the water to warm up before stepping under the spray.

It was amazing.

The water was hot and pounded down on muscles he didn’t realize were aching. He’d never been able to bathe in such warm water before and this entire concept of showering was brilliant. Not having to sit in one’s own filth was definitely appealing, he mused, reaching for what Cas had called shampoo. He poured a bunch in his hand, the smell of apples hitting his nostrils, and he grinned as he rubbed it into his hair. Gods, he was going to smell so fucking good after this!

He used the soaps Cas had pointed out, using a cloth to scrub every inch of himself he could reach. His cock twitched against his thigh, and Dean frowned down at it, idly wondering when the last time he’d gotten laid was. Ah, it was that kid in Athens, he remembered. Only a year or two younger than himself. The one he’d saved from being trampled by a rampaging centaur. Gods, had he been thankful.

He watched as his cock thickened, enticed by the memory, and Dean figured that since it had technically been over three thousand years since he’d gotten off, he might as well indulge. He reached a soapy hand down, grasping his hardening cock, and began to stroke slowly, imagining the boy’s hazel eyes peering up at him as Dean had pounded into him. 

He groaned quietly, his cock fully hard now, and Dean instead tried imagining the boy fucking into him. While the boy had practically begged Dean to fuck him, which Dean had happily obliged, obviously, he much rather preferred being on the receiving end of things. 

He closed his eyes, picturing himself on all fours. The boy oiling himself up and sliding in. Encouraged by the picture, Dean quickly grabbed the shampoo and spread some on his fingers before reaching back and breaching himself with two fingers, quickly grabbing hold of his cock again. He leaned his forehead against the cool tile as his hips shifted back onto his fingers before snapping his cock forward through the tunnel of his fist. 

The picture in his mind suddenly changed. The skinny kid being replaced by a grown man, with thick thighs and dark hair. As the man looked up, he realized it was Cas.

Dean stifled a groan as his cock suddenly erupted, the vision of Cas fucking him enough to send him over the edge. He slowed his hips, riding out his orgasm as he watched the falling water wash his release down the drain. 

He sighed as he came down from his bliss, knowing there was no way someone like Cas - a scholar - would ever want anything to do with someone like him. Even if he did bed - fuck - men, like Charlie had said.

Quickly finishing his shower, he shut off the water and dried himself on one of the towels Cas had left for him, before wrapping it around his waist, grabbing his sword off the counter and his clothes off the floor, and opening the door. The smell of cooking meat hit his nostrils and his stomach rumbled hungrily. He hurried across the hallway into the bedroom Cas had indicated, stepping inside to see clothes laid out on the bed for him.

There was a pair of soft looking pants and a faded black short sleeved shirt, along with a pair of shorts. Dean frowned, picking them up, wondering what they were for before realizing they were to be worn under the pants. He’d worn undergarments before, usually when he was going into a fight, but these were different than anything he’d used before. Shrugging, he allowed the towel to drop before pulling them on, followed by the pants and shirt.

He made his way back to the kitchen, the smell growing stronger and making his mouth water. He entered just in time to see Cas placing plates full of food on the table. He’d changed while Dean was showering, wearing similar pants to what he’d left for Dean and a worn gray shirt with the letters AC/DC on it. He looked up with a smile as Dean entered the kitchen. “How was your first shower?”

Dean grinned. “Amazing! I usually have to bathe in rivers.”

Cas smiled back at him. “Well, not anymore. There’s a whole new world out there for you.”

“Assuming we win,” Dean said.

Cas hummed. “Rowena seemed confident,” he said. “Anyway, we can worry about that after dinner. I didn’t know what you liked, so I made burgers.”

“I don’t know what those are, but it smells fantastic!”

Cas huffed a small laugh. “It’s weird, having you speak English but still not know what everything is.”

Dean took a seat, pulling the plate towards him. “It’s in here,” he said, tapping his head, “it just takes some sorting to figure things out. Most words just seem to translate, but words I have no reference for take some thinking. Like, I found the word for fridge cause I thought about it for a minute.” He paused, closing his eyes and thinking. “Hamburgers,” he said, following the thread in his mind. “Cow meat in bread.” He opened his eyes to find Cas smiling at him.

“That’s right,” he said. “You can add things to it if you’d like,” he gestured towards the cut up tomatoes, pickles, cheese, and lettuce. “Or not. Some people eat them plain, some people just put ketchup or mustard on,” he said, indicating the bottles.

Dean nodded. “Most of these look familiar,” he said, reaching out and grabbing some of each topping. “Not sure about the bottles.”

“Here,” Cas said, opening each and putting a small dab of each on his plate. “Try it this way first and see if you like it.”

Dean dipped his finger into the red sauce and stuck his finger in his mouth before doing the same with the yellow. “Holy fuck, these are good!” he exclaimed, looking up to see Cas. 

Cas who was staring at him with wide, dark eyes. He must have realized he was staring as he suddenly blushed and cleared his throat. “You can add as much or as little as you’d like,” he said, pushing the bottles closer to Dean.

Dean added a bit of both to his burger before taking a bite. “Oh my gods, Cas, you made this?” he said around his food before swallowing. “This is the best food I’ve ever had.”

Cas blushed again. “Well, it’s not like I killed the cow and prepared the meat or anything,” he mumbled. “I just warmed it up.”

“Well, it’s fucking good,” Dean said before taking another bite. They ate in silence until all the food was gone and Cas had risen, clearing the dishes. “I can help you clean those,” Dean offered.

Cas grinned at him. “I have a machine that will clean them.”

“Shut up, you’re lying,” Dean gaped.

Cas shook his head, opening a door to an odd looking box and putting the dirty dishes inside. He reached under the sink and pulled out a box, from which he withdrew a squishy looking square. “This is the soap,” he explained, showing Dean the compartment where it went and closing the box’s door. He pressed a button and Dean could hear a sound that reminded him slightly of a swarm of bees. “They’ll be clean and dry in an hour.”

Dean stared at him. “Are you sure you’re not a sorcerer?” 

Cas laughed and Dean loved the sound of it. “I’m sure. Would you like another beer?”

“Sure.”

Cas nodded and opened the fridge, grabbing two beers and gesturing towards the living room. “Couch?” Dean nodded and followed Cas. 

“So,” Dean said, once they’d sat themselves at opposite ends of the couch. “You told Rowena you’re a scholar…is that why you were at the museum?”

Cas tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, looking remarkably like a confused bird. “Why would you think that?”

“Only people I ever knew who went to the museum were the scholars,” Dean shrugged. “Sammy couldn’t wait to go.”

Cas nodded. “These days, anyone can go. The displays are for the public to come and learn, not just scholars.”

Dean hummed. “So, you’re not a scholar?”

Cas blushed. “Well, I did do a ridiculous amount of schooling, and I still like to learn…”

Dean grinned. “You sound like Sam, always wanting to learn new things.”

“What about you?”

“Never had time for learning,” Dean admitted. “Always busy hunting. Left the learning to Sam.” He chuckled softly. “Now look at me, learning all these new things. Fridges and showers and burgers.”

“It must be a lot to take in,” Cas said softly. 

Dean tilted his head. “Sort of? The way you do things is so different, but being a hunter? I always kind of had to just roll with changing circumstances and figure things out on the fly. This ain’t that much different.”

“Well, is there anything in particular you’d like to know about?”

Dean thought for a moment, eyes wandering before landing back on Cas. “What’s an AC/DC?”

“They’re a musical group. Their style is called hard rock. It’s not really my preference, but an ex left this shirt here once and it’s comfortable so I kept it.”

“An ex?” Dean asked.

“Ex-boyfriend,” Cas clarified.

“Oh,” Dean stammered. “Uhh, sorry to hear that.”

Cas waved him off. “Don’t be. He was an ass. I’m better off without him.”

Dean smiled, eyes wandering again. “What’s that shiny black thing?”

Cas followed his gaze, eyes lighting up. “That’s a television. Did you ever have a chance to see a play?”

Dean nodded. “Once, when we were in the capital. Mom and Dad were off hunting and Sammy was bored so we snuck in.”

“Television, or TV, is kind of like that. You can watch shows of different types. Or movies, which are kind of like long TV shows.”

Dean stared at him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Cas stood. “I’ll show you.” He walked over to a cupboard, opening it to reveal rows of small boxes. He pulled one out, showing it to Dean. “You were asking about hobbits earlier. Would you like to watch a movie about them?”

“Uhh…sure, I guess,” Dean answered, still not really having any idea what Cas was talking about. 

They were only five minutes into the movie when Dean couldn’t keep it in anymore. “This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen!” he gushed. “How did they do this?”

Cas chuckled. “That’s a long explanation that’s probably better left to Charlie to explain.”

“Amazing,” Dean repeated. “This world of yours…I’m so glad we saved it.”

“Me, too,” Cas responded. “And I’m glad you’re here to see it now.”

Dean tore his eyes away from the TV to look at Cas. “Me, too, Cas,” he said softly. “Me, too.”

Chapter Text

Castiel woke with a groan the next morning, the sun streaming through his open curtains right into his eyes. He rolled over, squinting at the clock on his night table.

9:43AM.

He sat up, suddenly panicked. Dean, where was Dean? Was he awake? Was he still here?

They’d stayed up far later than he’d intended, watching the first Hobbit movie, with Dean making him promise they would watch the remainder today. It had been almost two in the morning by the time they’d mumbled goodnight to each other and crashed into their respective beds - Cas in his own and Dean in the guest room. 

He stumbled out of bed and down the hall, hurrying his pace when he heard groaning come from his living room. He rounded the corner, anxiety racing, only to see the last thing he ever expected. 

Dean heard him enter, looking over at him with a grin. “Dude! Porn is awesome!”

Castiel was still staring at the screen where two athletic looking men were going at it, one man lying back on a table and the other fucking him raw and hard. He wiped his hand over his face. “I need coffee,” he mumbled, backing away and heading to the kitchen. He heard the TV shut off and Dean’s footsteps behind him.

“You OK, Cas?”

Castiel nodded distractedly, setting the coffee maker up and tapping his finger on the counter while he waited for it to brew. 

“Cas? Did I do something wrong?” Dean asked quietly.

Castiel whipped around to face him. “No!” he insisted. “Of course not, Dean. I’m sorry. I’m not much of a morning person and I wasn’t expecting to walk in on porn first thing in the morning.”

“Oh,” said Dean. “So, I did do something wrong.”

Castiel shook his head. “No, Dean, I swear. Uhh…porn isn’t something people usually watch with other people, unless they’re, um, partners. Like, sexual partners. But there’s nothing wrong with watching it. It’s just usually a private endeavor.”

Dean nodded slowly, chewing his lip. “Sorry, I won’t do it again.”

“It’s fine, Dean, really,” Castiel insisted again before trying to change the topic. “Would you like some coffee?”

Dean shrugged. “Smells good, so I guess I’ll try it.”

Castiel nodded and poured them each a cup when it was ready. “Some people like it black, which is just like this, nothing added,” he explained. “Some people like to add sugar or creamer.”

Dean took a small sip, immediately making a face. “It’s bitter!”

Castiel laughed. “Do you want some sugar?” he asked, handing it over when Dean nodded. 

Dean kept adding spoonfuls until he liked the taste. “It’s not so bad now,” he said. “How can you drink it black?”

“You get used to it,” Castiel said. “I usually drink tea but coffee wakes me up faster.”

Dean hummed around another sip. “So,” he started after swallowing, “you got any plans for today? Are we just going to wait around and see if Gabe or Ro come knocking?”

“Rowena has my cell phone number and I’m assuming an archangel could find us if needed, so there’s no reason to stay here, unless you want to? I have to get groceries but you don’t have to come.”

“No, I’d like to, if that’s OK. I want to see more of your world.”

Castiel smiled. “It’s your world, too, Dean. Come on, let’s see if we can find some jeans that fit you.”

Dean shook his head. “Don’t know what those are, but OK,” he said, following Castiel to his bedroom. 

“You’re lucky we’re similar in size,” Castiel told him as he rummaged through his closet. “Imagine trying to fit into Gabriel’s clothes?”

Dean barked a laugh. “I might as well be naked at that point.”

Castiel grinned, handing him a pair of jeans, a fresh shirt, a pair of boxers and some socks. “Here, go get changed and I’ll meet you in the living room.”

Dean took the clothes and left, so Castiel hurriedly got himself ready. He walked into the living room to find Dean on the couch, staring at his socked feet with a look of disgust on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“These…” he paused, searching for the word. “These socks. They are very constricting.” 

“Sorry, they’re probably just too small. Which means the shoes you’re going to be wearing will probably also be too small. We’ll stop and get you new ones first thing.”

Dean pouted. “Can’t I just wear my sandals?”

“It’s March, Dean. There’s a foot of snow outside.”

Dean’s face lit up. “Snow? It snowed that much once when I was a kid! Do you often get that much?”

Castiel couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, throughout the winter we do.” He had the sudden realization that Dean wouldn’t even know he was on a different continent and made a mental note to see if WalMart sold globes. “Come on. The sooner we leave the sooner you can have socks that fit.”

Dean managed to squeeze into a pair of Castiel’s running shoes and followed him through a door into the garage, stopping suddenly at the sight of Castiel’s car. “What is that?”

“That’s a car.”

“Ro mentioned cars. It’s like…a chariot? Where are the horses?” he asked, walking around the car.

Castiel was tempted to tell Dean the horses were under the hood but didn’t want to get into a long winded explanation of horsepower, so he simply answered with, “there are no horses. It moves on its own.”

Dean just shook his head and copied Castiel as he opened the door, got in, and buckled his seatbelt. “Are you ready? It may be louder than you expect,” Castiel told him. 

Dean nodded, so Castiel started the car, glancing at Dean to see his eyes open wide. He hit the garage door opener button and Dean twisted around at the noise, watching as the door opened. “Amazing,” he whispered.

Castiel smiled and put the car in reverse, backing out slowly, one eye on his rearview mirror and the other on Dean, whose eyes had grown even wider. Once on the street, he put the car in gear and started down the street, Dean peering out the window. “This is…” he trailed off. “There are so many buildings, Cas! And they’re all so big!” He peered through the windshield. “Are those buildings in the distance?!” 

Castiel followed where his finger was pointing, noting the skyscrapers of downtown Manhattan. “Yes. Some of them are for people to live in. Others, people work in.”

“They must reach the heavens if they look so big from so far away,” Dean mused.

Castiel smiled over at him. “When we’re done saving the world, I’ll take you to see them,” he promised.

Dean grinned back at him. “Will you teach me to drive a car?” he asked excitedly.

“Anything,” he answered, somehow knowing he’d do anything and everything for this incredible man. “Anything you want.”

They spent a few hours running errands, slowed down by Dean’s childlike excitement at, well, pretty much everything. By the time they got home it was early afternoon, and Castiel slumped on the couch with a sigh, happy to finally be off his feet. “OK,” he said, opening the box in his hand, “come look.”

Dean came and sat beside him as he lifted the globe out of the box, followed by the metal cradle it would sit in. He set it up and turned to Dean. “Do you know what this is?”

Dean shook his head. “Art?”

Castiel smiled. “Not quite. This is the earth.” He spun the globe a little until Europe was facing Dean. “This,” he said outlining the continent, “is Europe, and this,” he pointed at a small outlined country, “is Greece.”

Dean squinted at the small country. “You’re telling me my entire life was lived in that little area? That the whole earth is this much bigger?” Castiel nodded. “Where are we now?”

Castiel spun the globe and pointed out the United States before showing him New York. “This continent wasn’t discovered until more than twenty-five hundred years after you were born,” Castiel told him.

Dean frowned. “Why did you say ‘discovered’ like that?”

“Basically, it wasn’t discovered by white men until then, but there were natives here for thousands of years before.”

“So why don’t they count?” Dean asked.

“History is told by the winners,” Castiel said. “It’s not so different from Theseus taking credit for what you did.”

“What did he even tell everyone?” Dean asked.

“Theseus? To be honest, everyone considers the story just a myth. I didn’t think he was a real person until yesterday,” Castiel answered before explaining the myth to Dean.

Dean shook his head. “About the only part of the story that’s true is that he was the son of a king. He wanted to be a hunter for some reason, but he was a shit fighter and a worse student, from what I heard. Wouldn’t listen to any of the hunters who agreed to train him and almost got a few of them killed. I saved his ass a few times myself. I can’t believe that asshole took credit for this. I mean, I can, cause he was an asshole, but still!”

“At least you know the truth,” Castiel told him.

Dean sighed. “Yeah, I guess. No glory in this lifestyle, that’s for sure.” He looked back at the globe, tracing his finger from Europe, over the ocean to the Americas. “If we survive this…how long would it take to journey back to Greece?”

“You’d want to leave?” Castiel asked, a sudden pit forming in his stomach.

Dean’s gaze met his own. “Not forever, just to visit,” he clarified. “I’d like to see how it’s changed.”

“Oh,” Castiel replied, suddenly feeling foolish. He didn’t even have to Google the travel time, having been to Greece several times during his studies. “It’s about a nine hour flight.”

“Flight,” Dean repeated. “On an…airplane?”

Castiel nodded. “We mostly just call them planes.”

Dean nodded, looking back at the globe. “Would you come with me?”

“I’d love to.”

“Well, isn’t that disgustingly sweet?”

Castiel and Dean both jumped at the voice, turning to see Crowley standing in the doorway. “What are you doing here?” Castiel asked.

Crowley shrugged. “No idea. Was told to meet everyone here but I see it’s only you two so far.”

“Make that three,” said Gabriel, appearing out of nowhere on Castiel’s loveseat.

“Four,” said Rowena, appearing behind the couch. “And…five,” she said as Charlie appeared next to her. “Well, done, lass!”

“Thanks!” Charlie said before turning towards Castiel and Dean. “Cas! Dean! Didja see? I got here on my own!”

Castiel beamed, standing and pulling Charlie into a hug. “That’s amazing, Charlie! How did you learn to do that so quickly?”

“That was me,” said Gabriel. “I created a pocket universe for them to practice in. Time moved at a different pace. From their perspective, they’ve been gone for months.”

“What?!” Castiel exclaimed. “Charlie, were you OK with that?”

Charlie nodded. “Yeah, it’s cool, Cas. We figured it would take more time for me to learn than we actually had, but we didn’t want to worry you with the details.”

“Not cool, Charlie,” Dean said, rising from the couch and pulling her into a hug. “Glad you’re OK, kiddo.”

“Thanks, Dean.”

“Can we all please get to the point of this?” asked Crowley from where he still stood in the entryway.

“Yes,” answered Gabriel. “Long story short, there’s good news and bad news. The good news is we have a plan we’re pretty sure will work.”

“And the bad news?” Castiel asked warily.

“Lucifer is stronger than we thought. The bonds are breaking. He’ll be free by tomorrow evening.”

“Shit,” swore Castiel, Dean, and Crowley all at once.

“All the demons have been recalled to hell and the gates shut, so they won’t be in the way at least,” Crowley informed them.

Gabriel nodded. “That’s a good start. We’ve also figured out a specific way only you can help.”

“Which is?”

“When Lucifer fell, he yanked his grace out, but he must be drawing power from somewhere. The angels think he must have hidden his grace in Hell and still has a connection to it.”

“You need me to sever the connection.”

Gabriel nodded. “Yes, but it’s not that easy. Only God or an angel themself can sever the connection between an angel and their grace. So we need to disrupt the connection. But even that will only work for so long, so we have to time it just right.”

Crowley tapped a finger on his chin as he thought. “You need the connection disrupted at the moment one of these humans go in for the kill,” he surmised.

“Exactly,” Gabriel answered. “We have the spell worked out, but it can only be performed in Hell…”

“And I’m the only one with access,” Crowley sighed, turning to Rowena. “Alright, Mother, give me the details.”

Crowley and Rowena disappeared into the kitchen. “So what do we do?” asked Dean.

“You know the power of three?” Gabriel asked.

Dean nodded but Castiel shook his head. 

“Three is a powerful number in magic,” Charlie explained. 

“Ok, and?” Castiel asked. 

“It’s the three of us who will face Lucifer.”

“No,” Dean said, rising to his feet. “Absolutely not. I’m not endangering either of you.”

“We don’t have a choice, Dean,” Charlie said, reaching out and grabbing Dean’s hands. “The spell relies on the three of us specifically. Rowena and Gabriel will lend us power, but it’s us three that are key.”

Dean shook his head. “Why? Why can’t you and Cas be safe somewhere and still help?”

Charlie smiled at him sadly. “It’s the power of three, Dean, not one. You are the link to the past, the one who was there when he was originally trapped. It was your blood that trapped him and it will be your blood that ends him once and for all.

“I have to be there because I’m the connection to Crowley. I’ll be the one to tell him when to disrupt the connection. I need to be close to know when that is. And Rowena taught me the binding spell she used, so I’ll be able to help keep it intact as long as possible, so he doesn’t, you know, just burst free and disappear.”

“And Cas?”

“Cas is the one who’s going to kill him.”

There had been a huge argument after that. Dean absolutely did not want to put that burden on Cas’ shoulders. Not when there was a perfectly good alternative with having himself do any killing. 

Charlie and Gabriel, and eventually Rowena, had tried to explain that it was the only interpretation of the prophecy that made sense. Why would Cas’ courage matter if he wasn’t the one going into battle, going face to face with the devil himself? Dean had countered that maybe it meant Dean would draw strength from Cas’ bravery but no, they insisted that didn’t make sense, and so the screaming had continued.

It wasn’t until Cas had placed a hand on his shoulder that Dean quieted, turning to search his blue eyes.

“Dean.”

Dean had known from that one word that he’d lost.

“I have to do this.”

“No, you don’t,” Dean whispered. 

“It was foretold, Dean. Like you and Sam way back when. You told Sam he couldn’t fight the fates. I can’t either.”

Dean felt like his heart was breaking. He’d only known Cas for twenty four hours, but the thought of losing him made Dean feel like he’d been kicked in the gut by a centaur. But deep down, he knew they were right.

He nodded. “OK.”

The next few hours were spent going over the plan. Then going over it again. Then again. Until finally, Dean snapped. “OK, we fucking get it! Mà tḕn Artémida,” he swore, spitting the blasphemy out in his mother tongue in frustration. 

“Dean’s right,” Castiel said. “The plan is good and I think we all know it inside out. We should all get some rest.”

Gabriel agreed. “I’ll inform Heaven of the plan. They’ll need to know on the off chance we fail,” he said before disappearing.

“Charlie and I need to gather the ingredients for the spell,” Rowena told them, standing from her seat. “Don’t be long,” she said to Charlie before disappearing.

“Where’s Crowley?” Dean asked, suddenly noticing his absence. 

“Oh, he disappeared ages ago. Muttered something about having better things to do on a Saturday night than listen to us buffoons,” Charlie said with an eye roll. 

“Are you sure about this?” Dean asked both of them. “You’ve known me for a day. Are you really sure you’re willing to sacrifice yourself to help me?”

Both Charlie and Cas nodded back at him. “Of course we are, Dean,” Cas said. “We wouldn’t still be here if we weren’t.”

“That’s right,” Charlie agreed. “Plus, you know, a quest to save the world with two hot guys on my arm? What’s not to like?”

Dean tried not to laugh but Charlie’s humor broke the tension that had settled on his shoulders. He pulled her into a hug. “Thanks, Charlie.”

Charlie smiled before giving Cas a hug. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Peace out!” And with that she disappeared.

“I’ll never get used to that,” Cas murmured.

Dean huffed a small, quiet laugh. “Same.” He got to his feet. “Guess we should get some rest, huh?”

Cas nodded, standing as well. “I guess so. Goodnight, Dean,” he said before disappearing down the hall.

Dean watched him go. “‘Night, Cas.”

Dean finally gave up on sleep a few hours later, after having tossed and turned until the sheets were twisted around his legs. He got up quietly, slipping on a pair of his new sweatpants and a t-shirt before making his way down the hall. He paused at the entry to the kitchen, noticing Cas staring out the window, the full moon highlighting his features. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked quietly.

Cas shook his head. “Too much on my mind,” he murmured before turning to face Dean.

“Want to talk about it?” Dean asked, moving further into the kitchen and leaning against the fridge.

Cas sighed, leaning back against the counter. “I just keep thinking, why me? I’m not the first person to be named after the angel Castiel, so what makes me special?”

“I dunno, Cas, you heard what Gabe said. All those other people named Castiel didn’t have the sight or whatever. Besides,” he continued, “I’ve met some of the Fates. You can’t argue with those chicks. If they decided, for whatever reason, that it had to be you? Then it had to be you.”

Cas nodded silently before turning to look out the window again and Dean had the feeling he wasn’t saying everything. He stepped up beside Cas, nudging his shoulder with his own. “What else is wrong, Cas?”

Cas shook his head. “I just…I just accepted everything, so easily, you know? Shouldn’t I be freaking out? You were a statue, Dean! And then you weren’t! And then people started just appearing out of nowhere with this fanciful tale and I didn’t even question it. I feel like I’ve lost my mind.”

Dean hummed thoughtfully, thinking over Cas’ words. “It could be the sight,” he offered. “Maybe having that bit of magic in you makes you more agreeable to accepting all this?”

“And would the sight make me trust you implicitly?” Cas asked quietly. “I’ve known you for a day, Dean, but I trust you so…profoundly. I feel like I’ve known you my whole life.”

Dean smiled. “That’s just ‘cause I’m awesome,” he teased, drawing a small laugh out of Cas. “I feel the same, though,” he admitted. “Like you’ve always been there. Like you always will be.”

Cas turned to face him and Dean was struck by how blue his eyes were in the light of the moon. His eyes dropped to Cas’ lips, wondering what they’d taste like. Well, he thought, no guts, no glory.

He cleared his throat. “So, dangerous mission tomorrow. Guess it’s time to eat, drink, and you know, make merry. Could be our last night on earth.”

Cas’ eyebrows furrowed together. “Is that a flirtation?”

“What?! No!” he paused. “If it was, would it work?”

Cas grinned before grabbing Dean’s shirt with both hands and pulling him close, crashing their lips together. “Fuck, yes,” Cas answered between kisses.

Dean groaned into the kiss, turning and lifting Cas to sit on the counter and crowding between his legs, his hands running up Cas’ side underneath his shirt before retreating and grabbing the hem. He pulled their lips apart long enough to pull the shirt over Cas’ head before resuming their kiss, his tongue gliding along the seam of Cas’ lips, seeking entrance.

Cas opened easily for him, and Dean explored his mouth with his tongue as his fingers traced over Cas’ chest, climbing up his ribs before his thumbs found Cas’ nipples. He rubbed them under his thumbs, eliciting a filthy moan from Cas that encouraged him to play with them some more. As he pinched them and rolled them between his thumbs and fingers, Cas wrapped his legs around his waist, pulling him close enough for their hard cocks to come together, separated only by a few layers of cloth.

“Fuck,” Dean groaned, hips jerking as he ground against Cas’ hardness. “Need you, Cas. Please.”

Cas nodded. “Bed. Now,” he commanded, unwrapping his legs and pushing Dean back enough for him to slip off the counter. Once he was on his feet, he grabbed Dean’s hand and pulled him towards his bedroom.

They stumbled and fumbled along the way, not wanting to go longer than a few seconds without lips meeting flesh, but they eventually made it to Cas’ room. Dean had lost his shirt along the way, and they both stood only clad in the sweatpants, the fronts of both having noticeable bulges. 

Cas pulled him into a kiss again, his hands sliding down Dean’s back and to the waist of his pants before shoving them down. Cas followed, dropping to his knees and without a word, taking Dean’s cock in his mouth. 

“Oh, shit,” Dean swore as the heat of Cas’ mouth enveloped him. “Shit, shit, shit!" His hands found Cas’ hair and he gripped the strands gently, eliciting a moan from Cas that sent a bolt of pleasure through Dean. “Fuck, Cas, just like that,” he groaned as Cas bobbed up and down on his cock. He let Cas continue for several moments before he felt he was getting too close to the edge. “Cas, you gotta…stop, Cas!”

Cas pulled off with a wet sound, a trail of saliva strung from his lips to Dean’s cock, breaking as he spoke. “What do you want, Dean?”

“Fuck me, Cas. Want you inside me.”

He watched as Cas’ eyes visibly darkened as he stood. He pulled Dean into another kiss, turning him and walking him backwards towards the bed until Dean’s legs hit the mattress and he fell backwards. Cas gave him a moment to get settled, stripping off his own pants and grabbing something from the table beside his bed. “What’s that?” Dean asked.

“Lube,” Cas told him. 

Dean’s eyes lit up as the new word slotted into place in his brain. “Gonna make me nice and wet for you, Cas?”

Cas groaned. “God, the mouth on you,” he muttered, moving to kneel between Dean’s legs. 

Dean smirked. “It’s a good mouth, Cas. Got a lot of uses.”

Cas raised a brow at him. “I intend to try out every one of them,” he threatened. Or promised? Yeah, Dean was definitely taking that as a promise. He opened the lube and drizzled some on his fingers before reaching towards Dean’s hole. “Tell me, Dean, how do you like it?”

“Hard and fast, sweetheart. Show me what you’ve got.”

Cas nodded and without preamble pushed two, wet fingers into Dean’s hole. Dean moaned at the stretch. He loved this part - the stretch and the slight burn. The feeling of his partner’s fingers moving inside him, stretching and twisting in a way a cock just couldn’t. He rode his hips against Cas’ fingers, begging for more until Cas added a third finger, crooking them just right against that special spot inside him. Dean jackknifed up with a shout. “Fuck, Cas, right there.”

Cas grinned wolfishly. “Have you ever come just from having this spot touched?”

Dean shook his head. “That’s a thing?”

Cas nodded. “It can be. When we have more time, we’ll try it.”

Dean sank back into the pillows as Cas removed his fingers. “Fuck, Cas, wanna try everything with you.” 

Cas was suddenly hovering over him, his lips sweetly moving against Dean’s own. “Me, too,” he said before reaching down and lining his cock up with Dean’s hole. “Ready?”

Dean nodded eagerly and Cas began to push forward slowly, breaching him and sliding all the way in with one smooth motion. Dean was helpless to stop a groan from escaping. Cas lifted one of Dean’s legs into the crook of his arm, allowing him to slide just that much deeper, before pausing, looking into Dean’s eyes. 

“Fuck, Cas, move.”

Cas kept eye contact as he pulled out slowly before snapping his hips back in. He repeated himself a few times, before slowly picking up the pace, and within minutes he was slamming into Dean hard and fast, their skin slapping and the sounds of their grunting the only sounds to be heard. 

Cas dropped Dean’s leg, pulling all the way out and manhandling Dean onto all fours before he’d realized what had happened. Strong hands gripped his hips, pulling him backwards as Cas snapped back into him, the change in angle causing the head of Cas’ cock to glide over that special spot over and over. 

Dean was howling. Or crying. Or screaming. He didn’t know and he didn’t care. Never had sex felt this good. Cas slamming into him, filling him, hitting that sweet spot, pulling him back onto his cock over and over and over. Dean was lost. So lost, he didn’t realize how close he was until a strong hand wrapped around his cock, stroking in time to the punishing pace his ass was taking. 

“Come for me, Dean,” Cas growled in his ear, and Dean was helpless to do anything but obey. His body locked up and he yelled as his cock erupted, shooting ropes of white over Cas’ hand and the sheets below. He was distantly aware of Cas’ movements faltering before with one last hard slam, he felt the warmth of Cas’ release deep inside him.

They collapsed to the bed, Dean thankful when Cas somehow maneuvered them away from the wet spot of Dean’s cum. When Dean felt Cas’ cock slip free, he turned over to face him, laying his head on Cas’ chest as Cas wrapped an arm around him. “You’re really fucking good at that,” he mumbled tiredly.

Cas chuckled. “So are you,” he replied, placing a soft kiss to the top of Dean’s head. “You use that ‘last night on earth'  line often?” he teased.

Dean snorted. “You’d be surprised at how well it works.” Cas hummed and Dean glanced up to see a frown on his face. “Hey,” he said, reaching up to cup Cas’ cheek. “It wasn’t just a line with you, OK? I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.”

“No?”

“No,” Dean insisted. “I meant what I said, Cas. I like you. And I know that seems fast. I know we don’t really know anything about each other. And yeah, maybe it’s because that’s how the Fates set it up, but that doesn’t mean we don’t get a choice. I choose you, Cas. I want to learn your favorite color and watch movies with you and let you teach me about this crazy new world. I want to see what the future holds for us. Together.” Dean lay his head back down on Cas’ chest. “You’re stuck with me now, capiche?”

“How do you even know what that means?”

Dean shrugged. “I dunno. I just do. Now, do you, or do you not, capiche?”

Cas smiled. “Yeah, I capiche.”

Dean pressed a kiss to Cas’ skin, right over his heart. “Good. So…does that mean we’re…courting?” he asked, wrinkling his nose as he somehow knew that wasn’t quite the right word.

Cas chuckled. “Most people say dating,” he replied. “We could say we’re dating, or just call ourselves boyfriends, or partners, or…”

“Yes,” Dean interrupted. “All of it. Just, yes. As long as it’s just me and you.”

Cas nodded, pulling him closer. “Sounds perfect,” he said before yawning. “We should probably try and get at least some sleep tonight.”

Dean nodded against his chest. “Yeah, you tired me out pretty good, so I should be able to get a few hours of sleep.” He sat up partially and pressed his lips to Cas’ before settling back down. “Night, Cas.”

“Goodnight, Dean.”

They were silent for a few minutes, and Dean could hear Cas’ breaths just starting to even out when he had a thought. “Cas?”

“Mmhmm?”

“Does this mean we can watch porn together now?”

Chapter Text

The sun streamed through the curtains of Castiel’s bedroom, falling on his face and warming his skin as he blinked open his eyes, but it had nothing on the heat that was currently enveloping his dick. He groaned as he flung back the covers, revealing Dean’s slick lips wrapped around his hard cock. “Dean…” he groaned.

Dean hummed around his dick. “Mmmm?” Tingling vibrations raced up Castiel’s cock. 

“Oh, fuck,” Castiel swore, causing Dean to chuckle and more tingles to spread through him. “Please, Dean, don’t stop…”

Dean’s eyes met his and he winked before getting back to the task at hand. Or mouth. Whatever. Castiel couldn’t be bothered to figure out the correct phrasing at a time like this. His hands wandered to Dean’s head, stroking through the short strands. His hips bucked, pushing himself deeper into Dean’s mouth, eliciting an approving hum from him, so he slowly started thrusting into Dean’s warmth. 

He was close…he could feel the tension building deep inside him and he tried to warn Dean with incoherent babbling. “Dean, I’m close, gonna…can I…Deeaan…”

Dean just sucked harder and with a shout, Castiel fucked up into his mouth one last time, coming with a shout, watching in awe as Dean swallowed every drop, pulling off his cock and licking his lips. “Morning, Sunshine,” he drawled.

Castiel collapsed onto his pillow. “Good morning, indeed,” he muttered, smiling as Dean climbed over him and leaned down to kiss him. He could feel Dean’s erection pressing into his stomach, so he reached between them and started stroking. 

Dean groaned into the kiss, his hips thrusting lazily through the tight channel of his fist. Castiel knew he was close when he broke the kiss, panting against the side of Castiel’s neck. “Fuck, fuck, Cas. So good, sweetheart…” He let out a choked off moan as he came, ribbons of white painting Castiel’s stomach, before he collapsed next to him. “I could get used to that.”

Castiel chuckled. “Me, too,” he replied, pulling Dean close so his head rested on Castiel’s shoulder. He closed his eyes, content to get some more sleep before what was sure to be a chaotic day started.

There was a sudden fluttering sound before Castiel heard a wolf whistle and someone clapping. His eyes flew open to find Gabriel standing at the foot of the bed, his eyes alight with mirth. “Well, don’t you two look…comfortable.”

Castiel groaned and pulled the blanket over his head, Dean’s body shaking against his as he laughed. “Why are you here so early, Gabriel?”

“It’s time to go, boys. Destiny awaits!”

Castiel pulled the blanket off his head and he and Dean sat up. “What, now?”

Gabriel shrugged. “I mean, I can give you five minutes to get dressed, but that’s it.” He snapped his fingers and Castiel felt a cool sensation wash over him. “There, you don’t even have to shower off each other’s spunk.”

“Oh my God,” Castiel moaned, slumping back on his pillow. “Get out of here so we can get dressed.”

“I’ll be in the kitchen. Five minutes! That’s it! Then we’re leaving even if you’re both still waving your willies around.” He disappeared with another flutter of wings.

Castiel turned to look at Dean. “So, this is it, I guess.”

Dean smiled softly at him. “Guess so.” 

Castiel nodded, throwing back the covers to get out of bed, Dean following close behind. As he was about to step into the bathroom, Dean grabbed his arm, turning him back. “Hey, no matter what happens, I want you to know…” he cut off, eyes searching Castiel’s.

Castiel reached up and cupped his face. “Yeah, me too.”

Dean nodded before clearing his throat. “I’m gonna go get dressed. See you in a few?”

Castiel nodded and went into the bathroom, making quick work of emptying his bladder and brushing his teeth. He got dressed quickly in comfortable jeans and a long sleeved Henley before making his way to the kitchen, where he found Gabriel sipping a mug of coffee, two more cups steaming on the counter. “Thanks,” Castiel told him, reaching for a mug.

Gabriel nodded back. “No problem.” He took another sip. “Where’s Dean-o?”

“Right here,” Dean said, entering the kitchen and heading straight for the last mug of coffee. Castiel’s breath caught when he saw what Dean was wearing. Gone were the comfortable sweats and t-shirts he’d spent the last few days lounging around in. Instead, Dean was back to wearing his chiton, his cloak draped over his shoulders, sandals lacing up his calves, and his scabbard tied securely to his waist. He glanced down at his outfit when he caught Castiel staring, a faint blush on his cheeks. “Umm…this is what I’ve always worn going into a fight. Didn’t wanna jinx it by changing it up.”

“Plus you look hot as fuck,” Gabriel chimed in, causing Dean’s blush to deepen.

“You look amazing, Dean,” Castiel told him honestly. 

Dean smiled. “Thanks, Cas.”

“Ok!” Gabriel burst in. “Enough flirting, you two. You got everything?”

Castiel shrugged. “Dean has the sword. What else do we need?”

“Good point. Nothing. Drink up, come on, quickly now,” he goaded them as they chugged their coffee down. “Alright, let’s go!” Gabriel clamped a hand on each of their shoulders, and after a dizzying moment, Castiel found himself in the middle of a rocky landscape. He looked around, catching sight of Rowena and Charlie at the bottom of a crater, painting sigils on the ground around the statue of Lucifer. 

“Where are we?” Castiel asked.

“Devon Island,” Gabriel told him. At Castiel’s blank stare, he went on, “In Canada’s Nunavut Territory. It’s the largest, uninhabited island on the planet. Figured we should be somewhere remote, just in case.” He nodded towards where the women were hard at work. “That’s a meteor impact crater. If things don’t go to plan, we thought it would be easier to cover up an explosion where one has already happened.”

Castiel nodded slowly. “That makes sense, but…shouldn’t there be snow here? Shouldn’t we be freezing? It’s the middle of March in Northern Canada.”

Gabriel grinned. “I melted the snow so the ladies could paint the sigils, and there’s a shield over the island so no one can see what’s going on right now. It’s also keeping the temperature comfortable so there’s nothing to distract you. Even if a blizzard started, you’d stay warm and dry.”

“Seems like you’ve thought of everything,” Dean commented, looking around. 

Gabriel shrugged. “I want you guys to succeed. The fewer distractions, the more likely you will. I hope.”

The three of them started walking down into the crater. As they drew closer, Castiel saw that the statue had cracks radiating out all over its surface. “How much time do we have?”

“We’re not sure,” Gabriel replied as they approached Rowena and Charlie. “Probably a few hours, but we’re going to break the binding spell before then.”

“What?!” Dean exclaimed. “Why?”

“T’is better to do it on our timeline,” Rowena answered. “That way, we’re prepared. No waiting around wondering when he’ll finally break free. We do it on our timeline to give us a slight advantage.”

Dean scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I don’t like this,” he murmured. “You’re all putting yourselves at risk for something I should do on my own.”

Castiel placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “We’ve been through this, Dean. You can’t do this on your own.”

“We’re going to be fine,” Charlie added, standing up from where she’d finished painting the last of the sigils. “There, that should do it.”

Rowena nodded approvingly. “Looks good, lass.” She looked around at Castiel and Dean. “Now, Charlie has been given a power boost, courtesy of myself and Gabriel, so you follow her lead, you hear? Once the binding spell is broken, she’ll need a minute or so to connect with Crowley, so Dean, you’ll need to distract Lucifer. Castiel, as discussed, you’ll be cloaked so he doesn’t see you. When Charlie says it’s time, it’s time. That means you, Dean, get out of the way, and you, Castiel, stab Lucifer.”

“Where will you and Gabriel be?” Dean asked.

“We’ll be out of sight nearby, ready to play our parts, don’t you worry. Now, if we’re all ready? Places, everyone!”

Dean pulled the sword from its scabbard, handing it to Castiel. “Guess you’ll be needing this,” he said, before pulling a small dagger out of a fold in his chiton. “And some of my blood,” he said, slicing open his palm with a wince and dripping some blood onto the tip of the sword. 

Rowena stepped closer, murmuring a few words. The sword flashed a bright green light and Rowena nodded. “All set then. May the goddess protect you.” With that, she disappeared in a swirl of smoke.

“Good luck, you three,” Gabriel said, before he, too, disappeared.

Dean turned to Castiel. “Cas…if this goes south…”

Castiel reached up and wrapped his hand around the back of Dean’s neck, drawing him in for a kiss. “It won’t,” he said firmly.

Dean nodded before they turned and walked towards where Charlie stood waiting. She smiled encouragingly at Dean, who took up his position between them and the fractured statue, the small dagger the only weapon he held.

Castiel turned to Charlie. “What do I need to do?”

She held out a small vial of pale yellow liquid. “Just drink this and you’ll be cloaked. I’ll be able to see you, but Dean and Lucifer won’t. When I say it’s time, you stab him. The glamor will hold unless you draw attention to yourself by making a noise, so just try and be sneaky, otherwise he’ll see you.”

Castiel nodded and took the vial, uncorking it and swallowing it down. It tasted bitter and metallic, and he felt a warm sensation wash through him. “Did it work?” he asked, glancing at Charlie.

“Yeah,” she laughed, pointing at Dean, “I’d say so.”

Castiel turned to where Dean was staring towards him with wide eyes. “Cas? You still there, buddy?”

He smiled. “I’m here, Dean.”

Dean blinked in shock. “Oh, there you are! Yeah, don’t make any noise ‘cause you totally just poofed back into sight as soon as you spoke.”

“Duly noted."

Dean nodded and turned back towards the statue.

“You ready, Cas?” Charlie asked. Castiel nodded and Charlie called out to Dean. “You ready, Dean?”

Dean nodded. “Let’s do this!” he called back.

Castiel stood behind Charlie and a moment later she started chanting in what Castiel was pretty sure was Latin. A howling wind started up, blowing her fiery locks around, but true to Gabriel’s word, Castiel didn’t feel its chilling bite. As he watched, the cracks in the statue started glowing a deep crimson until, all at once, the stone shattered in a burst of light that momentarily blinded him. 

When he blinked his vision back to normal, Castiel was met with the sight of Lucifer standing before Dean, turning in a slow circle as he surveyed his surroundings. A slow, malicious grin spread on his face. “Well, well, well, isn’t this interesting?” he mused as he completed his circle and faced Dean. “Didn’t expect to see you again. I must say, you did well to trick me last time, Hunter. Rest assured, it won’t happen again.” He glanced over Dean’s shoulder, eyes skipping right over Castiel, but landing on Charlie. “Who’s your little friend, Dean? She looks like she’d be fun to break.”

Castiel glanced at Charlie. Her face paled slightly at Lucifer’s words but she kept chanting the new spell she’d begun right after the stone had shattered. 

“Don’t touch her!” Dean snarled. “Your fight is with me, not her.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll kill you first. Then her. Then,” he grinned, “the world.” He flicked his hand and Castiel’s eyes widened as Dean went flying, crashing to the ground with a grunt of pain.

Dean staggered to his feet, spitting a mouthful of blood to the ground. “Yeah, that’s what you said last time, asshole. Didn’t happen then and it ain’t happening now.” He drew back his hand and threw the knife that he held at Lucifer, and Castiel watched as it sunk into its hilt right above his sternum. 

Lucifer didn’t even flinch as the knife pierced his flesh. He merely raised a brow as he glanced down before reaching up and pulling the knife out of his chest. “Cute,” he sneered, before flicking his wrist and sending the knife flying towards Charlie.

Castiel’s breath caught, but before he could move to push Charlie out of the way, Dean dove in front of her, the knife piercing into the back of his shoulder. He hit the ground hard, laying stunned for a moment before reaching back and yanking the knife out of his back with a hiss. “Fuck!” he breathed, stumbling to his feet once again. Dean turned his back on himself and Charlie again, stalking towards Lucifer with determination. 

Lucifer watched him, amusement brightening his eyes and pulling a smile from him. “You are a pesky little insect, aren’t you, Dean?”

“Fuck you,” Dean quipped before pulling back his arm and punching Lucifer in the face. Lucifer’s head snapped to the side, but again, he barely flinched. Dean, on the other hand, was shaking his fist out, a grimace of pain on his face. “Mà tḕn Artémida,” he swore, “are you still part stone?”

“You poor, stupid, little ape. I’m an archangel. You can’t hurt me, Dean. All you’ll ever end up doing is hurting yourself.”

“Yeah? Well…” he punched Lucifer again. “Worth it.” He was still shaking his hand out when Lucifer sent him flying again, this time away from where Castiel and Charlie stood.

“I’m growing bored of your little game, Dean. What do you say we end it now?” Lucifer asked, reaching down and hauling Dean to his feet. With his left hand clasped around Dean’s throat, he used his right hand to punch Dean. Once. Twice. Three times.

“Charlie,” Castiel whispered, starting to panic at the amount of blood running from Dean’s nose, from his mouth, from the cuts on his face.

“Almost,” came her reply in his head as she continued chanting. “Get closer.”

Castiel hurried to comply, creeping up behind Lucifer where he was still pummeling Dean. He held the sword up, ready to stab Lucifer.

He watched as Lucifer suddenly stumbled, dropping Dean, who immediately scrambled away from him. “What have you done?” Lucifer spat, turning towards Charlie. “WHAT DID YOU DO?!” 

Castiel glanced behind himself in time to see Charlie’s eyes snap open, glowing a brilliant shade of purple. “Now!” she yelled.

He turned back to Lucifer who had taken several steps towards Charlie, his hand raised, ready to blast her off her feet. “Hey, assbutt!” he yelled, trying desperately to divert attention away from Charlie. Lucifer turned towards him and he saw the archangel’s eyes widen as he suddenly became visible. He didn’t hesitate, stepping forward and plunging the sword into Lucifer’s heart.

“NOOO!” Lucifer screamed, stepping towards Castiel, his hand still outstretched. His eyes glowed red and Castiel was frozen to the spot in fear. 

Dean suddenly crashed into him, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from Lucifer. “Cas! We gotta get outta here!”

Castiel shook his head to clear it before turning and running hand-in-hand with Dean. They’d made it mere feet when an explosive sound erupted behind them and a shockwave knocked them both off their feet. 

He was vaguely aware of flying through the air before he hit the ground and everything went dark.

Dean groaned as he struggled to open his eyes. He felt like he’d been trampled by the Mares of Diomedes, his face and torso a mess of cuts and bruises. He managed to pry open his right eye, deeming the left too swollen, and slowly reached up to examine his face with his fingers, gently poking and prodding and wincing in pain. His hand dropped and his eye closed again until the memory of the last few moments came rushing in. His right eye popped open again, the left straining to follow suit, and he turned his head, blinking his vision clear as he saw Cas’ prone figure. 

He scrambled to his hands and knees, crawling quickly over to Cas and gently shaking his shoulder. “Cas? Come on, sweetheart, wake up.” There was no response, so he quickly checked for a pulse, breathing a sigh of relief when he found one. He carefully turned Cas over, immediately noticing the cut on his forehead, but no other obvious injuries. “Cas? Cas!”

Cas groaned and Dean cupped his face as his eyes blinked open. His eyes squinted up at Dean in confusion. “Are we dead?”

Dean laughed in relief. “No. No, Cas, we’re alive and mostly well.” He helped Cas sit up. “You got a nasty cut on your forehead and I’m sure my face don’t look so pretty right now, but we’re alive.”

Cas sighed, eyes closing as he slumped against Dean. “What about Lucifer?”

“Oh, umm…” Dean turned to find where Lucifer had fallen, finding Charlie kneeling beside him. “Oh, gods,” he whispered, heart falling. “Sammy?!”

He sprang to his feet, pushing aside the dizziness that accompanied the too swift movement and racing towards where Charlie knelt beside Sam, her hand clutching one of his. And it was Sam, now. Dean could see immediately that the signs of the beast had left along with Lucifer. 

But he was deathly still.

Dean crashed to his knees opposite Charlie. “Charlie? What happened? Is he….?” he couldn’t finish the question. He felt Cas fall to the ground behind him, one hand coming to rest on his shoulder. A crack of thunder boomed overhead.

Charlie looked up at him. “The sword killed Lucifer, but it also killed Sam’s body. Gabriel was here and healed him, but his soul already made it to the veil. Rowena’s gone in after him.”

“Rowena?” Dean asked, looking past Charlie and spotting Rowena’s prone body just behind her. Charlie’s other hand held one of Rowena’s.  “Is she dead? What happened?”

Charlie shook her head. “She’s…in stasis. That’s the best I can explain. Her body is temporarily frozen while her soul goes after Sam.” She lifted her hands where she held each of theirs. “I’m hoping I can act as a connection between them so Rowena can find Sam in the veil.” There was a flash of lightning amongst the storm clouds that were gathering and Charlie looked up towards them. “She better hurry.”

Dean’s eyes followed hers upwards. “Those aren’t clouds,” he heard Cas say.

Charlie shook her head. “No,” she replied. “They’re reapers.”

“Reapers?” Dean asked. 

“They collect the souls of those who died,” Charlie explained. “Gabriel and Rowena had a suspicion they might show up for Sam.”

“They’re here to take him to Hell?” Dean asked in horror.

“No, Dean. They’re fighting over who gets to escort him to Heaven. The boy who sacrificed himself to save the world? It would be an honor for the reaper who got to be his guide.” She smiled at both of them. “There will probably be just as many reapers fighting over you two when it’s your time.”

“Ok, that’s great and all, but, uh…can we just put Sam’s soul back in his body for now? Screw the reapers.”

Charlie nodded. “We’re trying. Gabriel’s up there fighting them off, keeping them away long enough for Rowena to find Sam in the veil.”

Charlie had just finished speaking when a golden tear appeared in the air a few feet away from them, widening enough for two figures to step forward. 

Dean felt a rush of relief go through him. “Sammy!”

He saw Sam’s eyes widen. “Dean!”

He felt Cas squeeze his shoulder as a tear slipped from his eye. “Dammit, Sammy, get back in your body!” Sam’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “What? It can’t be that hard, can it? Ro? Tell him how to get back in!”

“Dean,” Cas said quietly behind him. “I don’t think he understands you.”

He saw Sam’s squint move to Cas before moving back. “What language is that?” he asked curiously.

Dean huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Always the scholar, aren’t you, Sammy? It’s called English. And if you get back in your damn body, you can learn it!”

Sam frowned, taking a step backwards and shaking his own head. “I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” Dean practically growled. “Of course you can!”

“It appears young Samual doesn’t think he’s worthy,”  Rowena said gently. “I’ve been trying to persuade him that he is more than worthy of a second chance.”

Sam shook his head. “I’m not, though. I said yes to letting that…thing…take over. He was going to destroy everything, Dean!”

“He tricked you, Sam! He lied! It wasn’t your fault!” Dean wiped furiously at the tears falling from his eyes. “Please, Sam, I can’t do this without you!”

Sam smiled sadly at him. “Yes, you can.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to!”  His eyes fell to the ground. “Please Sam. You’re my brother. I need you. I need you here beside me. This world, it’s so different from ours! You’ll love it, I promise! There’s so much for you to learn.”  He lifted his head, turning to meet Cas’ eyes. “And, you gotta meet Cas. He’s amazing,”  he said, returning Cas’ smile before turning back to Sam. “He’s a scholar, like you. He can teach you so much! About…about English and cars and skyscrapers and…and America!”

There was a flash of lightning and a large bang, and Gabriel suddenly crashed to the ground a few yards behind them. He groaned as he sat up, his shirt covered in blood. 

“Holy man?” asked Sam in confusion.

“Yup, that’s me. Just fighting off an army so you can get your pretty little butt back in your body. No big. Would appreciate it if you’d hurry the fuck up though!”   With that, he disappeared.

Sam’s eyes flew back to Dean’s. “Where did he go?”

“Really long story short? He’s an angel, like Lucifer, but good. And he’s fighting creatures that are here to take you to Heaven. There’s hundreds of them fighting over who gets to take you to the afterlife, Sam. Because you’re that worthy!”

Dean could see tears in Sam’s eyes as he shook his head. “I’m not worthy, Dean.”

Before Dean could respond, Cas spoke. “Sam. I know I don’t know you. I couldn’t possibly understand what you’re feeling right now. But what I do know is, if you are anything like your brother, and I think you are, you are more than worthy. If you’re not, that means Dean isn’t. And I don’t think you’d agree with that, would you?”  Sam shook his head. “Then come back.”

Dean’s breath caught as Sam glanced at Rowena, who smiled encouragingly at him, before moving to Cas and then back to himself. He seemed conflicted for a moment before he gave a small nod. “OK.”

Dean nodded back, a smile tugging his lips. “Yeah? Then hurry the fuck up!”

He watched as Rowena stepped forward, placing a small hand on Sam’s shoulder. She nodded at Dean, then waved a hand. The tear in the air snapped closed. 

Dean’s stomach lurched in terror, settling only seconds later when Sam suddenly took a deep breath, his eyes opening. A few feet away, Rowena sat up, a scowl on her face. “Well, that was unpleasant.”

The sky above them cleared almost instantly, and a second later, Gabriel appeared beside them. “Took you long enough,” he grumbled. He snapped his fingers and all the blood on his clothes disappeared. He raised a brow as he took in Dean and Cas’ injuries, sighing as he reached out and tapped them both on the forehead, instantly healing them. He turned to Charlie, assessing her for injuries, smiling when he found none. “Well, that didn’t turn out so badly, did it?”

“I was beaten to a bloody pulp and stabbed, Gabriel,” Dean said dryly.

“Yes, well, all’s well that ends well.”

Dean rolled his eyes, turning to Sam who was eyeing them quizzically. “Hey, Gabe, can you do your language download thing to Sam?”

Charlie snorted. “Do you even know what a download is, Dean?”

Dean shook his head. “Not a clue, but I know that sentence made perfect sense,” he replied, shooting her a wink.

Gabriel ignored them both, turning to Sam. “Alright, you handsome thing,” he tapped Sam’s forehead, “understand us now?”

Sam’s eyes widened in shock. “What did you do? How do I know this language?”

“It’s an angel thing,” Gabriel said, brushing off the question. “Can we go now? I’m hungry and we’re in Canada. I think we should go get poutine.”

“That sounds like a brilliant idea,” Rowena chimed in. 

“I don’t know what that is, but I’m in,” Dean said.

“We should probably stop and get Sam and Dean proper clothes,” Cas added. “They’re not exactly dressed for a Canadian winter.”

Gabriel snapped his fingers and Dean suddenly found himself wearing jeans, boots, a hooded sweater and a jacket. He looked over at Sam who was wearing similar clothes, a look of utter shock on his face. “Angel thing,” Dean told him. 

“That’s right,” Gabriel said. “Alright, you freaks,” he paused, smirking, “and Greeks,” he added, nodding at Sam and Dean, “let’s get this show on the road. I call dibs on Sam!” he proclaimed, grabbing Sam’s arm and disappearing.

“We should probably go quickly before he scars the lad for life,” Rowena tutted, turning and offering Dean her hand. “Shall we, Hunter?”

Dean grinned, taking her hand. A cloud of smoke enveloped them, and the next thing he knew they were standing between two buildings, just off of a busy sidewalk, next to Sam and Gabriel. A moment later Charlie and Cas appeared next to them. Dean dropped Rowena’s hand and grabbed Cas’. “You good, sweetheart?”

Cas smiled up at him. “Yeah,” he replied softly. “I’m good.”

Dean smiled back, leading Cas and the rest of the group out onto the sidewalk, ready to celebrate.

Ready to start the rest of his life.

With Cas.

A plume of black smoke appeared on the desolate island and a man stepped out of it, looking around. He eyed the destruction the fight had left, along with the bodies of a few slain reapers. Apart from them, there was no one else on the island.

“For fuck’s sake,” Crowley swore. “Sure, I’ll just clean up this mess,” he muttered. “No thank you. No gratitude. Just fuck off to celebrate while Crowley tidies up. Assholes.”

He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips as he waved away the corpses. For a bunch of humans, they’d done an exceedingly good job. Amazing, really.

Not that he’d ever tell them that.

No, that would be his little secret.

Chapter Text

Lawrence, Kansas
2 years later

“She ain’t gonna get much prettier than that, ya idjit.”

Dean glanced over his shoulder at Bobby, a smile on his face as he stood up to look over his handiwork. “Yeah, I think she’s just about perfect!” he answered, turning back to Bobby. “What d’ya think?”

Bobby rolled his eyes fondly. “I think Cas might be jealous once he learns how much time you spent running your hands all over her.”

Dean laughed, tossing the rag he’d been using on the bench next to him. “Cas has already started calling her my mistress,” he chuckled. 

“Don’t blame ‘im,” Bobby answered. “You spend too much time with her. Now, go on, get outta here. I’m sick of looking at that look on your face.”

“What look?”

“That, my car is the prettiest car and I looooove her look.”

“Well, she is …” Dean started before noticing Bobby’s raised brow. “Ok, Ok! I get it! I’m leaving! Later, old man!”

Bobby turned to leave, muttering under his breath, so quietly Dean could barely hear him. “Calls me an old man, does he? Boy’s three thousand years old!”

“Three thousand seven hundred and four!” Dean called after him, snorting at the middle finger Bobby tossed over his shoulder at him. He grabbed the keys and an envelope off the workbench and got in the car, opening the envelope to look at the documents inside one last time before he took his baby for her first spin.

Inside the envelope were all the documents proving the car was his. Right there in front of him, listing him as the owner and insured, was his name: Dean Winchester.

He smiled to himself as he pulled out of the shop bay and onto the street, heading towards home, remembering with fondness his first meeting with Bobby that led to his new last name.

Cas had left his job at the museum a year and a half earlier after being offered a teaching position at the University of Kansas in Lawrence. Around the same time, the Men of Letters had come calling, offering jobs to both Sam and Dean. Sam had accepted immediately, of course, but Dean had never been one to sit around doing research. If he was going to hunt, he was going to do it on his terms, not some stuffy old scholars’ terms. Besides, they were based in Lebanon which was over three hours away from Lawrence and there was no way he was going to be that far away from Cas. Sam he could visit. Cas…well, he’d very quickly realized he’d been falling for Cas since the moment they met and he wasn't about to give up on his happily ever after. So, Sam had left for the Men of Letters bunker and Dean and Cas had packed up Cas’ house and moved to the outskirts of Lawrence, buying a little house with a big garden that made Cas exceptionally happy, which was really the only thing Dean cared about.

Charlie had followed them a few months later after securing a position at the University’s Center for the Study of Science Fiction and it wasn’t long before her and Dean had developed a solid friendship. There wasn’t a week that went by that the three of them didn’t see each other. Dean had never wanted another sibling, but there was no doubt in his mind, or his heart, that Charlie was the sister he’d never had. She was family and there was nothing Dean wouldn’t do for her.

Of course, things couldn’t always be smooth sailing, and three months after moving, Cas’ car had started making an awful clanging sound. A colleague at the university had recommended Singer Automotive, so the following weekend they’d driven to the shop.

“Do you want to come in?” Cas asked. 

Dean nodded eagerly. “I’ve never been to an auto shop!” he exclaimed, unable to contain his excitement. In the six months of living in the twenty-first century, cars had become one of his favorite things to learn about. He had hoped he’d be able to fix the car himself but he’d quickly realized that six months of reading car magazines wasn’t enough to actually fix one. “Do you think they’d let me watch them fix it?”

Cas smiled. “I don’t know. My last mechanic had a window to the shop so you could see what they were doing. Maybe this place is the same?”

Dean grinned. “Let’s go then!” he replied, hurriedly exiting the car. He met Cas at the front of it, grabbing his hand, and they made their way to the door.

As soon as they stepped over the threshold there was a flash of light and Dean and Cas found themselves in a cloud of wispy smoke. As it cleared, he felt Cas stiffen beside him. He followed Cas’ gaze, his excitement at being in an auto shop suddenly doubling. “Is that a real gun?!” 

He made to step forward to examine the item being pointed at them, but Cas’ grip on his hand and a hissed “Dean!” kept him in place.

“Who, or what, the fuck are you?” the man holding the gun growled.

“Umm, I’m Castiel Novak….I have an appointment?” Cas answered hesitantly. “This is my boyfriend, Dean.”

“Well, that answers the who, now what about the what?”

“What?” Cas asked.

“Which one of ya ain’t human?”

“We both are?” 

“You asking me or telling me?” the man asked, eyes narrowing.

“Telling?”

The man raised an eyebrow and Dean felt it was time to step in. “Look, mister, we’re both human. We’re just here ‘cause Cas’ car sucks and something needs fixing. What kind of gun is that?”

“Dean!” Cas hissed again.

“What, Cas? I’ve never seen a real gun before! And it looks like the ones they used in Tombstone!”

“The city?” Cas asked, turning towards him with a confused frown on his face.

Dean sighed. “The movie! With Kurt Russell? I made you watch it!”

“Yeah, yeah, the one with guns and tuberculosis.” Cas cleared his throat, deeping his voice and affecting an accent. “I’m your huckleberry.”

Dean closed his eyes, swallowing harshly before licking his lips. “Yeah, exactly,” he managed to get out before the man with the gun interrupted.

“Who the fuck are you?!”

Dean and Cas turned back to the man. “Mà tḕn Artémida,” Dean swore. “We told you already!”

The man’s eyes widened. “Oh, balls! You’re that kid from Ancient Greece, ain’t ya?” he asked, nodding towards Dean before turning to Cas. “Which makes you the one who nearly jump-started the Apocalypse!”

“Ummm…it was an accident, and we did stop it all from happening,” Cas answered. 

“Yeah, we’re heroes. Can I shoot your gun?”

“No!” the man and Cas said together.

“How did you know who we are?” Cas asked.

The man sighed, finally setting the gun down on the counter. “I’m Bobby Singer,” he introduced himself. “I’m a hunter. We heard all about what nearly went down. I’ve got wards up at every entrance to the shop so I’ll know if someone comes in who ain’t human.”

“But we are human,” Dean said.

Bobby nodded. “Yeah, but you both got some magic in you. According to my sources, Castiel, you have the sight, and Dean, you’ve been exposed to enough magic and had your blood used in enough spells that it must have sunk in a bit.”

“Do you use this for hunting?” Dean asked, stepping up to the counter and eyeing the gun curiously.

Bobby sighed and handed him the gun. “It’s a Winchester Rifle and it’s loaded with silver-tipped iron bullets that have been soaked in salted holy water and dead man’s blood.”

Dean’s lips curved into a smile. “Smart,” he said, continuing when he saw Cas’ confusion. “Silver, iron, salt, holy water, and dead man’s blood are the main five things that will kill supernatural creatures,” he explained. “There are some creatures that won’t be affected by any of those, but most of the more common creatures are susceptible to at least one of them.” He looked down at the gun again. “Winchester,” he murmured to himself, an idea already forming in his mind.

With Charlie’s help, it hadn’t taken long for Dean to officially become Dean Winchester, with all the paperwork and documents that entailed. Bobby had eventually realized that Dean’s interest in cars was more than just curiosity about new technology and had offered him a part time job at the shop where Dean quickly picked up the ins and outs of car maintenance. It hadn’t been long before Bobby had hired him on full time as a mechanic.

Of course, the most memorable day for Dean was when Bobby had taken him out to the scrapyard and told him he could have his pick of any of the cars out there as long as he fixed it up himself. Dean had spent the better part of an hour wandering between the rusty, beat up shells of cars before he’d seen her. 

“What about this one?”

Bobby smiled as he walked over. “Good eye, boy. She’d be a beauty all fixed up. Lotta work though. Drunk driver wrapped her around a pole so you’re gonna have a bent frame to deal with, on top of everything else.”

Dean nodded, circling the car. She was a mess. Her hood was crumpled, her windshield shattered. All four tires were flat and the rims were bent. Rust peeked out from under the black paint. Anyone else would have said she was ugly, but to Dean, she was beautiful. “Chevy Impala,” he murmured, eyeing the emblem on the back of the car. 

Bobby nodded. “1967. She’s old, but not as old as you,” he teased.

Dean could picture her in his mind, all fixed up and shiny, sleek as a newborn centaur. “This one.”

Bobby clapped him on the back. “Good choice.”

Dean had spent the last year fixing her up, and in all that time, he’d never told Cas what kind of car he was working on. Tonight he’d finally introduce his two loves.

He popped a tape into the tape deck as he drove, one of the many he’d collected over the past year in anticipation of his baby finally being done. Cas had done his best to introduce him to a wide variety of music, but his heart and soul were drawn to what Cas called Classic Rock. Dean thought it was hilarious that something only fifty years old was considered classic these days, and when he’d asked Cas what that made him, Cas had thought for a moment before responding, “a dinosaur.” Dean, of course, had no idea what a dinosaur was, which led to Cas explaining how old the earth was, evolution, and dinosaurs. Dean must have had a glazed look on his face by that point as Cas had just shaken his head and popped in Jurassic Park. Dean might have had trouble wrapping his head around the fact the earth was billions of years old and people had evolved from some fish that had crawled out of the ocean eons ago, but he knew two things for sure that night:

1. Dinosaurs were fucking awesome! and
2. Cas was sexy as fuck when he was in teacher mode.

(Cas had later told him there was a whole sexy teacher kink which Dean had insisted they try out, which led to both of them being a sweaty, sated mess.)

He hummed along to Zepp IV as he drove and in what seemed like no time at all he was pulling up to the curb in front of their house. Cas’ car was in the driveway, so Dean hurried to get inside before Cas was able to sneak a peek. 

“Honey, I’m home!” he called out, grinning as he heard Cas huff a laugh from the kitchen, appearing a moment later from around the corner.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas replied, leaning against the doorframe. “I heard you pull up. Did you finally bring your mistress home to meet me?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.

“Sure did! Better get a kiss in before she sees and gets jealous,” Dean teased back.

Cas rolled his eyes but walked over, one hand wrapping around Dean’s neck to pull him in for a kiss. He was smiling as he pulled away. 

“Come on,” Dean said, grabbing his hand. “Let’s go for a drive.” He led Cas back to the front door, pausing before he opened it. “Close your eyes.”

Cas shook his head with a soft smile on his lips, but closed his eyes and let Dean lead him out the door and down the porch steps and towards the end of the driveway. “OK,” said Dean, dropping his hand and stepping back, “you can open them.”

He chewed his lip nervously as Cas opened his eyes. “Oh,” he breathed softly, eyes darting over the Impala. “Oh, Dean, she’s beautiful!”

“Yeah? You think so?”

Cas nodded, stepping forward and running a hand reverently over the roof of the car. “She’s not what I expected, at all, but…she’s perfect!” He turned back towards Dean, a smile on his face. 

Dean pulled out his phone, finding the picture of the Impala from when he first found her. He held out his phone to Cas. “This is what she looked like before.”

Cas’ eyes widened as he took in the beat up car in the picture, eyes flicking between it and the Impala. “I can’t believe this is the same car,” he said, handing the phone back to Dean. “You did an amazing job!”

Dean grinned. “Let me show you the best part,” he said, leading Cas to the trunk. He popped it open and laughed when Cas looked into the empty trunk with his brow furrowed. Dean reached in and hit a hidden lever and the bottom of the trunk suddenly popped up, revealing a hidden stash of weapons. “Got everything I need for a hunt.” 

He braced himself for Cas’ reaction, knowing that Cas still wasn’t comfortable with Dean taking on the occasional hunt Bobby sent his way. But being a hunter was who he was, and as much as he loved working on cars, he couldn’t just let monsters roam around killing people when he had the knowledge and skills to do something about it. Cas, of course, was concerned about his safety, but had grudgingly accepted that it wasn’t something Dean could give up.

“Dean,” Cas said softly, laying a hand on his shoulder and forcing him to turn and meet his eyes. “You know how I feel about you hunting, but you know I support you one hundred percent. And this,” he added, gesturing to the trunk, “is brilliant! I hate that you put yourself in danger, but I love knowing that at least you’ll have everything you’ll need to get home safely.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Cas insisted, squeezing his shoulder. 

“Thanks, Cas.”

Cas smiled. “Come on, you promised me a ride.”

Dean perked up instantly, shutting the trunk and leading Cas back to the passenger side, opening the door. Once he was settled in, Dean hurried around to the driver’s side, climbing in and beaming over at Cas. “Ready?”

Cas nodded and Dean started up the car, pulling smoothly away from the curb. He had a destination in mind, and Cas didn’t question where they were heading. They chatted about their day, Dean telling Cas about the flirty old lady who’d stopped in for an oil change and Cas telling him about the courses he was teaching.

“Balthazar called in sick, so I covered his Intro class today,” Cas told him. “You’ll never guess what the topic was.”

“What was it?” Dean asked, glancing over and seeing a smirk on Cas’ face.

“The legend of Theseus and the Minotaur.”

Dean groaned and Cas burst out laughing. “That fucking asshole. First thing I’m doing when I die is finding his soul and beating the shit outta him.”

Cas was still laughing when Dean pulled to a stop at Wells Overlook, the sun just beginning to set. “Come on,” Dean said, opening the car door, Cas following close behind. Dean grabbed a blanket from the back seat and threw it on the hood of the car, climbing up before helping Cas up. He threw his arm around Cas’ shoulder, pulling him close.

“This is nice,” Cas said softly as they watched the sun sink lower. “The view is amazing.”

“Yeah,” Dean whispered, staring at Cas more than the sun. “It’s beautiful.”

Cas glanced up and saw him staring, and the next thing Dean knew, Cas’ lips were on his. They both turned towards each other at the same time, deepening the kiss. Hands roamed as the sun set, and Dean was half hard in his pants and ready to move things to the back seat when he heard someone clear their throat.

They pulled apart, whipping their heads around to see who the unexpected visitor was. “Hey, guys!” Gabriel waved unashamedly. “Long time, no see. Sorry to interrupt, but…

“There’s been another prophecy.”

THE END

(or is it?)