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“O you his angels, you mighty ones who do his word, obeying the voice of his word!” - Psalm 103:20-21 (ESV)
Chuck scowled down at the words that filled the pages in front of him. This wasn't working. Why wasn’t it working? He stared at where „The End" had been blinking back at him from the screen only a few hours ago. He had been so entertained by this ending and then, just as God's words were about to become true, the text on the page had started to change, rearranged itself right in front of his eyes. Again!
How dare they?! Go against what he, God, had written and just…change the script. He balled his hands into fists and directed his glare into the celestial veil – from where he could watch everything that was happening on earth. He could see the Winchesters and their pet angel getting ready for bed in a motel. Like nothing had even happened!
His gaze swept over to Castiel, his disobedient son. Yes, he was the problem! For whatever reason he couldn't fully control him. His unforeseen actions kept ripping up his carefully crafted script. His interference in the apocalypse, his power-trip shortly after and now his refusal to kill Dean - despite the perfect dramatic scene!
Chuck looked between his writing and the falling angel. Yes, he was getting more and more certain. Castiel was the source of everything that went off-script. Instead of killing Dean - like He had intended - and consequently being killed by Sam in the resulting fight, with Sam later succumbing to his own injuries, he had broken out of the heavenly mind-control and healed Dean instead.
Chuck had been so proud of this ending! Though, admittedly, it was a bit different from his usual style. It had been full of angst, heartbreak and high stakes. A perfect ending to the Winchesters’ story.
He squinted back at Castiel through the void. Maybe it was time for Him to interfere and right this troublesome wrong.
It was time for God to return.
- - -
Castiel watched silently as Sam and Dean moved around the motel room in perfect sync. From the outside, it looked like every other evening with the brothers. The two humans were getting ready for bed while Castiel stood stiffly next to the small desk near the window. He could have sat down, but he was feeling restless. Wired, he thought the human term was.
Dean had taken the first shower, immediately sliding into the bathroom upon their return to the motel. He hadn’t even glanced at Castiel. Ever since that moment in the crypt, he’d been unable to look the angel in the eye.
I love you.
The words echoed in Castiel’s mind. He could still hear them, if he focused. His perfect angelic memory would make sure that he’d never forget the tone of Dean’s voice or the look in his eyes.
I love you.
The words had been the ones to break Castiel out of Naomi’s control. They’d instantly gripped his attention, pulled his full focus - and therefore his mind - back to earth. The words he’d secretly longed to hear for years, but had never thought possible. They had buried deep inside of him, into the small warm place that he’d always made sure to keep hidden away.
He had wanted to echo the words back to Dean, tell him that he loved him too – of course he did - but he had hesitated. Had Dean meant it in the way that Castiel so desperately wanted him to? Did he also feel the deep, thrumming connection through their profound bond that had led Castiel to rebel against heaven, to truly let himself think and feel for the first time in millennia. The bond that had led him to develop a love for the human man deeper than anything he’d ever known before.
Or had it simply been another expression of a familial bond? Did Dean love him as a brother? A way he’d used before to describe their relationship. The thought that Dean might see him in the same way that he saw Sam hurt something deep inside the angel. He wasn’t sure if he could bear it, should that be the case.
So, in an attempt to stall and sort his thoughts, he had picked up the angel tablet off the ground. The bright lightning that had filled the crypt had caught Sam’s attention. And just like that their moment had been broken by the younger Winchester and Meg storming in, and it was too late for Castiel to reply anything at all to Dean’s words.
Since then, Dean hadn’t looked at him directly.
They hadn’t had a moment to talk for themselves. They’d had to figure out what to do with the angel tablet and drive back to the motel. Throughout all of this Castiel had tried to catch Dean’s eyes, to try and get a read on him, but the hunter had resolutely ignored his attempts. He acted as if nothing had happened.
It worried the angel that something had changed between them. And Castiel wondered; had he misunderstood the situation? Let his hopes get the better of him and misread Dean’s intentions? Had his reaction made Dean uncomfortable? The thought made a knot form in his chest.
They really needed to talk.
So when Dean returned from the bathroom dressed in clean clothes and Sam vanished inside for his shower, Castiel took a deep breath and pushed himself off from the table.
Dean’s eyes flickered towards him, an emotion Castiel couldn’t quite read flashing through them, but before either man had the chance to take more than a single step, the world suddenly tilted around them. Castiel could distantly hear Dean’s surprised gasp, but he himself instantly recognized the feeling of reality warping itself around a powerful being. It wasn’t so much air being displaced as energy shifting to create space for something big.
It was the same thing that happened when angels first came to earth without a vessel, so Castiel was instantly on alert when he was also affected by the event. For him to feel it in this way, it must be a powerful being.
When the world had righted itself again and his senses had reoriented themselves, he was still standing inside the same dusty motel room, but somehow it seemed far away. It was as if the room they were standing in was suddenly bigger, its walls suggestions more than limits, and everything was coated in a crisp translucent aura that slightly whitened out their surroundings. Time had stopped moving within the space.
Distantly, Castiel wondered if Dean could feel the difference in the air with his human senses. But for once his main focus wasn’t on Dean. They were no longer alone in the room. In front of them stood…Chuck Shurley? The author of the Supernatural books. The prophet.
Except…he wasn’t a prophet.
Before Castiel’s eyes the man’s – no, the being’s – mask fell away and slowly his true form was revealed. The angel’s eyes widened and his mouth opened into a silent gasp as piece by piece a form was revealed that he had never laid eyes on before, but recognized instinctively.
“Father…” he whispered, his voice sounding strange to his own ears.
The thing about God’s true form was that it couldn’t be described. No human language possessed the words. No listener would possess the ability to imagine. Heaven didn’t have a description of God either, the angels only needing the concept of him. Every angel had it from the moment they were created; it was part of their nature.
But different from an angel’s true form, God could be perceived by everyone. If he chose to reveal himself, one was automatically able to see and comprehend him - at whatever level their brain and species were capable of at least. As an angel, Castiel was able to see every part of his true form. Dean was likely only faced with a glowing golden figure that still resembled the human form that Chuck had chosen before. He might not recognize him as God in the way Castiel could, but there would be no doubt in the human’s mind that he was confronted with something immensely powerful.
Chuck’s attention, however, lay solely on the angel, completely disregarding the human’s presence. All he had to do was raise a single hand slightly. His voice was quiet, without any force as he said, “Show me respect.”
Distantly, Castiel still had a vague impression of the moment of his creation. For a single heartbeat of the universe he’d been in his father’s presence. His still unfurling grace hadn’t possessed the ability to see or remember yet, but it had been imprinted with the feeling of being in God’s presence. It had been the moment that the devotion and drive to serve and obey God had been programmed into his very being. As it was with every angel created in that second, the previous and the following.
And as Castiel stood before God, his Father, his creator, everything in him screamed to obey. To worship as he was created to do. There was nothing he could have done to stop his body from following the command.
The angel fell to his knees.
He bowed his head. His wings lowered in submission in the ethereal plane and his hands fell open in front of him.
Somewhere in the back – the very back – of his mind, there was a little voice telling him to fight. To stand proud for himself and the human he had come to believe in. He had been angry with God for a long time now, looking for answers and frustrated with his father’s silence. But in that moment the voice was but a whisper. It was nothing compared to the ancient instincts, the very nature of an angel bowing down to God.
“What the fuck?! Cas?!” He could hear Dean’s voice behind him, could feel his presence, but despite wanting to, he couldn’t even lift his head to look at him. All of his being, all of the eyes of his true form were forced to stay focused on his father.
God ignored Dean, his attention staying on his angelic son. “Castiel. I am very disappointed in you. You keep disobeying. Keep messing up the Plan.”
To Dean, or any human for that matter, it would have seemed like nothing but words, but Castiel flinched violently. His grace felt like it had been stabbed by an angel blade. The words of disapproval from God himself unraveled the edges of the very essence of his holy being. He wanted to speak, to defend himself, to apologize. But he couldn’t get his voice to work.
“I have love for all my children in my heart,” God continued, “but my mercy has limits. You have strayed from your path, from my grace.”
Another rip through the angel’s grace, and this time Castiel couldn’t quite suppress a faint whimper at the feeling of his holiness being stripped away by God’s words.
“What the fuck are you doing to him?!” Dean exclaimed. He was suddenly kneeling at Castiel’s side and there was a hand on his shoulder. Warm, human. The point of contact grounded the angel slightly and brought a part of his awareness back to the earthly plane. His shoulders relaxed marginally, he lifted his head to blink at Dean and he was able to slightly move his wings again. He managed to straighten them from the bowed position they’d been forced into.
Chuck continued to ignore Dean. He frowned down at Castiel and shook his head disapprovingly, an action that immediately snapped the angel’s attention back to him. “I cannot control you anymore, Castiel - a thing that shouldn’t even be possible for an angel. It has become…troublesome.” He stared hard at the kneeling angel in front of him. In the ethereal plane Castiel could feel his power expanding and his light brightening. The rest of God’s full true form unfolded as he said, “Let’s try this one last time. Angel of Thursday, obey.”
The words weren’t spoken any differently, not even louder in volume, but they held a direct command from God and Castiel was helpless to it.
As he was directed, he bowed down again, deeper this time. His wings folded tightly around his true form. His mind had been quieted by God’s power and command, his grace only focused on obedience. It eagerly awaited its next instruction.
“Surrender your power to me.”
But somewhere there was a spark. A spark that refused to die. A tiny flicker of the free will that his time on earth had awakened in him was still left. Castiel knew it shouldn’t have been there – angels weren’t supposed to possess free will the way humans did - but it was fueled by the new emotions that he had acquired. Emotions that he never should have been able to feel either. He could still remember the moment he had first truly felt. That first contact with Dean’s sold had awakened them in him.
Now, that little spark was sending ripples of fear through him that were just barely able to break through to his consciousness. He was scared. Not for his own sake, but of what God would make him do. He had lost his trust in their creator years ago, around the time when he’d first seen what he put the Winchester brothers through with his Big Plan. And he realized that in this moment he was also scared for Dean.
The human hunter, however, had never been one to go down without a fight. When God commanded Castiel to surrender his grace, and - to the angel’s horror - it started to pool closer to the surface as if preparing to rip itself from him, Dean suddenly grabbed Castiel by the shoulder. He pulled the limp angel up off the ground with surprising strength, pushed him backwards and put himself in front of him. Between him and God.
A burst of affection for this stupid, brave human blossomed in Castiel’s chest as he felt God’s hold over him waver momentarily and his grace retreated again. It even momentarily overshadowed the panic he felt at Dean’s action.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” Dean demanded, not a trace of the fear or respect that the situation warranted in his voice. “What do you want from Cas, you son of a bitch?”
Chuck scowled and he crossed the arms of his human form in front of his chest. “Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?”
Dean seemed to falter for just a second, but he recovered quickly and brazed on forward. Castiel just hoped that it wasn’t towards his own demise. He didn’t think he’d be able to help Dean, if God decided he had enough of him. “Yeah, despite common belief, I’m actually not stupid,” Dean sneered. “Apparently, you’re God. The fucking God.”
Chuck nodded and examined Dean with a puzzled expression. “Well, I was expecting a bit of a different reaction. Something more…awe-inspired. Worshipping? No, you were never the religious type. Maybe intimidated.”
Dean let out a sharp laugh. The sound was far from friendly - cold and grading. “Like hell! You’ve been posing as a fucking writer this entire time. Not exactly a way to inspire respect.”
A deep frown appeared on Chuck’s face, and dread curled in Castiel’s inside. “I wasn’t posing, I am a writer. Every story I write comes to pass as I, God, intend. At least it is supposed to,” his expression suddenly darkened. “Somehow you manage to break the script time and time again. I will write the perfect ending to your story and then you come along, with your unpredictable actions and ruin it!” At the last words Chuck’s voice had turned sharp, a vibration of power and anger swinging with it.
Dean barely seemed fazed, but Castiel flinched in place of him. He wanted to tell his human to be careful, to not risk everything for him, but his grace was still in knots. Part of it was still urging him to please his creator, and the very idea of drawing Chuck’s attention upon himself again was making him nauseous with that confusing mixture of worship and fear.
“So you decided to throw a hissing fit? Torture Cas a bit, because he has no choice but to obey you?”
“It is him! He is the problem! If you humans deviate from the script, I can adjust my writing. But an angel! An angel shouldn’t even be able to disobey me, to go against my written or spoken word. It is outrageous!”
Chuck turned his burning gaze back to Castiel, who had foolishly started to relax a bit, shielded by Dean. Immediately, the almost physical pain of God’s direct wrath stabbed into his grace and he drew in a sharp breath. He forced himself to not duck further behind Dean. He was an angel, he should be the one to protect the human from divine powers, but he couldn’t help himself.
“Is that what this is all about?!” Dean asked with a scoff. “Control and your fucking ego?! And I thought I had a fucked up father.”
He couldn’t have said where the certainty came from, but at that moment, Castiel knew that Dean had gone too far. He could see the glint in Chuck’s human eyes and feel the ripple in his celestial form. He was moving before either his grace or his mind could even process and react to what was going to happen.
“Do not talk to me like that! You are but an ant in my presence, human!” God’s true voice rang out in the small room, powerful enough to hurt even Castiel’s ears, and in his anger Chuck let just a fraction of his true light out into the visible realm.
Dean cowered at the sound, a pained cry leaving his lips as his hands instinctively came up to cover his ears. But Castiel knew that it was the light that would hurt the human, though his hands wouldn’t have ever been enough to protect him from it anyway.
So before anyone, including Chuck, could react, Castiel had thrown himself in front of Dean. His wings had wrapped tightly around his human as he pulled his face into his chest and surrounded him from all sides with his true form. He blocked Dean from the light that would have burned his eyes out – maybe even ripped his soul from his vessel and thrown him into insanity.
Suddenly, it didn’t seem to matter who stood before him. Every part of the angel, down to the deepest tendrils of his grace was only focused on one thing. Keep Dean safe.
When he finally felt Chuck reign in his true form, Castiel slowly raised his head from where he’d pressed in into the junction of Dean’s neck, though he still refused to let go of the human for a few more precious seconds. Chuck was staring at them with his mouth slightly opened, as if he was in disbelief over what just happened.
They stared each other down. Father and son. And only when Castiel was certain that the imminent danger to Dean was gone, only then did he slowly unfurl his wings and let the human step out of his embrace.
Dean, for his part, looked slightly dazed, but his face was determined as they stood shoulder to shoulder facing God.
Chuck’s gaze was flickering between the two men (one human, one an angel of celestial intent) calculatingly. And something seemed to click inside his mind.
“Love… It was love. That’s why you were able to defy my writing.”
Castiel jolted. Love. Dean’s confession in the crypt. I love you. Could it be? Maybe it hadn’t just been his foolish hope and his feelings were truly returned. Warmth spread through him and he suddenly felt it with certainty. It was as if he could read it on Dean’s soul when he looked at him. Dean loved him back.
“Uhm…what?!” Dean asked in a high pitched voice. He looked down and when Castiel followed his gaze, he realized that they’d never fully parted. They were still holding hands. Dean looked flustered, surprise coloring his voice. He looked like he wanted to rip his hand away and for a moment Castiel doubted his revelation.
“It makes sense! Love is the only force in the universe stronger than even my powers!” Chuck continued talking.
Dean seemed unable to find words, his mouth opening and closing around nothing, but he kept his hand inside the angel’s, his grip even tightening slightly, and Castiel knew. His uncertainty earlier had been unfounded. Their profound bond was as he preceded it. Strong, intimate, …romantic.
Chuck, meanwhile, seemed to have come around to his own personal revelation about their relationship. He clapped his hands and grinned in a way that sent chills down the angel’s spine. “Oh yes! Why didn’t I think of this before?! I can make a great love story out of this! Instead of tragically killing each other, you kill and destroy everything in your way FOR each other!”
Beside him, Castiel felt Dean tense further with every word, until he was gritting his teeth and the hand not grabbed in Castiel’s was balled into a fist. “You fucking son of a bitch! Have you always been doing this?! Using our lives as your personal entertainment! What about free will?!”
Chuck scoffed and waved the human off. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care that Dean was positively seething in anger. “It’s not like it makes a difference for you. Your life doesn’t feel any different when I decide the story, you won’t even know.”
In his anger Dean once again seemed to have lost any respect for the all-powerful being in front of them. He took a threatening step forward. This time, however, Castiel was right beside him. God’s spell over him was broken for the moment and he felt an anger shimmering inside himself as well. This was his father. Their creator. And he seemed to hold no love for any of them beyond his own personal entertainment.
“Of course it makes a fucking difference!” Dean exclaimed and Castiel felt himself nodding along. Behind them he felt his wings spread in a display of aggression. “This is OUR lives! Leave it the fuck alone.”
Chuck’s good mood vanished as quickly as it had appeared. His mouth pressed into a thin line and in the ether his true form twisted into an unhappy spiral. His eyes went back and forth between them, his gaze growing cold. “And what are you gonna do about it? I am God! You cannot stop me.”
As he looked into his father’s cold eyes, something inside Castiel hardened. He felt Dean’s presence at his side, warm and alive, and he felt powerful. Like together, they could take on anything. He raised his chin and managed to return Chuck’s gaze without fear. “We will continue to defy you. You may be writing our story, but we will always be the ones deciding its ending.”
Lightning flashed behind Chuck’s eyes at his words and his voice was low and threatening when he said, “Careful, Castiel. Remember who you are talking to.” He raised his right hand halfway. “One snap of my fingers and you stop existing, reduced to less than atoms. Your grace will not even go to the empty.”
The flinch that went through Castiel was almost instinctive. His fear was muted; not nearly as strong as Chuck had probably aimed for, but to his dismay the words still didn’t leave him entirely unaffected. Next to him, he felt Dean shifting closer until their sides were fully touching and the hand in his squeezed twice in quick succession. “Then I will find a way to bring him back!” Dean’s voice was filled with anger and defiance and Castiel felt his love for Dean deepen impossibly. “No matter how often you kill one of us off, as long as the other is still alive, we will never give up! You said it yourself; love is stronger than your powers. That means we are stronger than you!”
Dean’s strength helped Castiel harden his own resolve again until they were both staring Chuck down defiantly. The man-shaped being before them gritted his teeth, his fists balled beside him. He looked like he was contemplating smiting them both, but surprisingly Castiel didn’t feel afraid anymore. Whatever happened, they’d face it together.
Chuck seemed to read the determination in their faces and something in his gaze changed. Castiel couldn’t have said what it was, but for a moment an expression that almost looked like softness crossed his father’s features. Then it was gone and everything about him seemed to smooth out.
The impassive mask of God was back. “This is ridiculous,” Chuck muttered. “Fighting with two insignificant little creations over their pathetic little lives.” He scoffed. “I have more than enough universes that are a lot less annoyingly disobedient. See how you’ll fare without me.”
And just like that, he was gone.
Time and space seemed to morph back into each other and the motel room re-solidified around them. From behind the bathroom door they could hear the shower running.
“Is it just me or did God just act like a five-year-old?” Dean muttered beside him. Castiel looked at him and Dean very slowly turned his head to return his stare.
“I believe he did.” The angel felt the corners of his mouth twitching.
Dean shook his head in disbelief and a chuckle escaped him. “Yeah, he was totally, like, pissed that his favorite toy was no fun anymore and he had to go play with one of his other hundred toys.”
And suddenly they were both laughing.
I didn’t last long. They calmed down quickly. When they did, Dean dropped down on the nearest bed with a tired sigh. (Castiel noticed fleetingly that it was Sam’s.) The man rubbed his forehead with both hands, then dragged one of them down his face and the other through his hair. When he looked back up at Castiel there was something simultaneously guarded and vulnerable in his eyes. “So, is that it?” he asked. “Is Chuck gone? Are we free?”
“I believe so.” Castiel said carefully. He was studying Dean. Something about the man’s body language was different than before. With a deep breath, the angel very slowly shuffled towards the bed. He wasn’t sure if he was welcome. Even though they’d just faced God together, they still hadn’t talked. When there was no visible protest from Dean, the angel very gingerly let himself down on the bed next to him. When he was sitting, he turned his body slightly to face Dean. The other man stayed angled forward, his frame stiffening slightly.
Castiel decided to start speaking. “Dean, I…”
“Cas,” Dean immediately interrupted him and the angel’s mouth snapped shut. “This- between us… You don’t have to, I mean, if you don’t- …I know that Chuck thought… and then there’s that shit I said in the crypt- but…Fuck!” Dean rubbed a hand down his face with a frustrated groan and Castiel didn’t know if he should interrupt him or let him try and find his words on his own. “Why is this so fucking difficult?!”
“Dean,” Castiel said gently. He hesitated for a moment, but then he carefully put his hand on the other man’s knee. When Dean didn’t flinch back or shake him off, he settled his hand more firmly and even dared to give a light squeeze. “May I speak?”
Dean was silent for a moment, his mouth gaping, his eyes fixed on their point of contact, but eventually he nodded. Castiel took a deep breath he didn’t really need. He felt confident. After everything that had happened today there was no doubt left in his mind over the way that Dean felt about him. “First off, I would like to apologize for not answering you in the crypt. I have to admit that I felt overwhelmed by your confession.” Under his hand he felt Dean stiffen, so he hurried to continue, before the man decided to pull away. “And I want you to know that the only reason I was able to stand against Chuck was you, Dean. Angels are not supposed to disobey our creator. Only through our profound bond was I able to even stand when He demanded me otherwise.”
Next to him Dean shifted restlessly, he was still staring at his lap, but Castiel paused. He refused to continue speaking until Dean returned his gaze. He wanted the other man to be able to see the truth in his eyes. When Dean finally lifted his head, Castiel smiled. “Dean, what I am saying is that, yes, of course, I love you too.”
He watched as Dean’s eyes widened, an array of different emotions flickered through them. And his name escaped Dean’s parted lips in a whisper, almost like a prayer, “Cas…”
Searching for permission in his human’s eyes, Castiel put his free hand to Dean’s face and slowly guided them together. When they were only a breath apart he paused. He felt Dean’s breathing hitch and in the end it was the hunter that pushed their lips together.
Everything inside Castiel seemed to explode, his grace was singing, all of his hundred eyes were slipping shut and his wings beat wildly in the ethereal plane. The kiss felt like everything. Like love, like absolution. Above them the motel lights flickered wildly. Dean’s lips against his were soft and slightly parted. Dean hummed contently as he leaned further into the kiss, and when Castiel opened a few of his true eyes to study his soul, it was swirling brighter than ever inside him.
When they parted it felt like hours had passed, but it must have only been seconds. They were both breathing hard and they stayed close enough for their noses to touch and their breaths to mix.
Dean’s beautiful green eyes slowly blinked open and Castiel couldn’t help but smile. “Cas,” Dean’s voice sounded slightly choked, “I never thought you-“
He was suddenly interrupted by the bang of the bathroom door flinging open and Sam stumbling out in sweatpants and a damp shirt, a towel still half-way draped over his hair. “Hey, guys! Did you see the lights-”
He abruptly cut himself off when he saw them sitting on his bed, close enough to leave no doubt about what they’d been doing, with Castiel’s hand still on Dean’s face and Dean’s hands fisted into the angel’s shirt. “Uhm…”
Dean abruptly pulled back, his face turned red fast enough that Castiel was momentarily worried for his blood pressure, and he yelled at his brother, “Get the fuck out, Sam!”
“Oh, uh, right…I’ll just…my hair.” And with that Sam quickly slammed the bathroom door shut again.
“Christ!” Dean cursed. He let go of Castiel with one hand to rub over his beet-red face. The angel sat very still, watching Dean. He was worried how he’d react.
To his relief Dean let the hand settle on his chest again as he sighed, “Well, guess that cat’s out of the bag.”
“Are you…okay with your brother knowing?” Castiel asked carefully. He studied Dean’s face for any sign of discomfort, but he just seemed resigned.
“Well, I would have liked for us to have a few days just for us before Sam’s teasing, but I guess what’s done is done.”
Castiel couldn’t help the smile that spread over his lips and he promptly pulled Dean into another kiss. He never could have imagined this. Even if he’d hoped that Dean would somehow return his feelings, he would have at least thought him to need more time to come to terms with…them. But this, this was everything. He was flying higher than he ever had with his wings.
- - -
Later that evening, after they’d filled Sam in on everything he’d missed (sporadically), they lay together in Dean’s small bed. Castiel had dressed down into some of Dean’s old clothes at the other’s insistence and had one arm around Dean’s back, while one of Dean’s snaked over his chest. Sam had insisted on booking another room for the night, despite Dean’s protest that it wasn’t necessary.
Now as they were lying in the dark, Dean waiting to fall asleep and Castiel waiting to watch over him, Dean asked quietly, “Do you think we were ever really free?” Castiel lifted his head slightly to look at the other man’s face, but Dean’s eyes were closed. “Do you think a single one of your choices was really our own? Or was it just Chuck pulling strings?”
Castiel hummed quietly. He started lightly running one hand through Dean’s hair in an attempt to comfort him. He didn’t like the disheartened tone in his voice. “Maybe. Maybe not. But I don’t think that it makes our experiences any less valuable or any less real.”
Dean blinked one eye open, studying him. “I guess…”
“And there is one thing we do know for sure,” Castiel added quietly, leaning down to kiss Dean lightly. “Our feelings were always real. Chuck wasn’t even aware of our love before today.”
A careful smile appeared on Dean’s lips. “Yeah…I like that thought.”
“Sleep now, Dean.” And as Castiel watched Dean close his eyes and his breath even out, he swore that no matter how difficult the future may become, they’d always hold onto that.