The Host are assembled in the great hall, an angel whose true form rose from the crowd to take his place, towering over the podium in front of him. His grace ripples in slight waves as he addresses his audience, every angel in his garrison.
"Brethren, I stand before you with a task handed down to me from our Father Himself."
The angels begin to murmur amongst themselves, their grace undulates with excitement, bright yellow overtaking the Host.
Zachariah stands even taller, his wings unfurled with pride. "We are to rescue the righteous man from Hell. The one true vessel of our most esteemed brother, Michael."
The murmur dies down, replaced by steady grace colored by dread: a dismal gray. Zachariah's wings curl into themselves and he begins pacing back and forth. "Am I correct in my assumption, brothers and sisters, that not a one among you wishes to volunteer for this task? Do I lead those who do not wish to do their father's bidding? Am I amongst angels or mud monkeys?"
One angel, in the back of the congregation, stands, black, dark blue, and platinum wings unfurled, grace steady with the color of resolution and righteous pride: emerald green.
"I volunteer, brother, to scour perdition and raise the righteous man."
Zachariah's multiple eyes scan the host before him, hoping to find someone else to volunteer for the mission handed down from God himself, but his hopes are unfounded and he looks to Castiel, the only angel willing to brave the hordes of Hell alone to save the righteous man.
"Your offer is accepted brother."
*******
"You volunteered to save my ass?"
Cas looks to his best friend, eyes steady, unwavering, just as they were all those years ago. "Of course, Dean."
Chuck scrunches up half of his face and taps his pencil against his teeth. He chuckles slightly and Dean glares at him.
"What's so fucking funny?'
Cas elbows him, but Dean ignores it. He knows they have a chance to beat this bastard, but he's had just about enough of this shit.
"I was just thinking about that vision I gave Sam."
Dean tenses, his nostrils flare, and he practically bares his teeth. Castiel feels the fear rippling throughout his grace and he uncharacteristically grips Dean's knee, causing the other man to send him a questioning and shocked glance. Castiel breathes a sigh of relief as he lets go of Dean's knee, knowing the motion allowed him to diffuse the situation for a moment at least.
Chuck pretends he couldn't see the whole display and continues talking. "With the future, I showed him that you go off the deep end because you had to lock Cas up in Ma'lak box because he went crazy from the mark that locked me up."
Dean's eyes narrow as he shrugs. "Kay?"
Chuck thoughtfully bites the end of his pencil. "Cas wouldn't have gone crazy, Dean."
The hatred resurfaces, and Cas's hand goes back to Dean's knee under the table. Dean takes the grounding the way in which it is offered, and he breathes deeply and secretly hopes Cas will keep his hand there for how ever long this was going to take. He honestly couldn't have cared any less what Chuck thought about it.
"Okay."
"Castiel has been underestimated at every turn, by every being, including you and your brother. He would have been able to handle the mark without any difficulty."
Dean drains the rest of his mug, tears brimming in green eyes. "Great."
"But the thing is, it happened to you, so Sam believed it would happen to Cas, because to Sam, you're the strongest person or being to ever exist, and if you fell victim to the mark, Cas would too."
Dean swipes his hand across his face, and Cas's grip tightens.
"Is there a point to this conversation besides torturing Dean, Father?"
Chuck looks to Castiel and something almost softens in his eyes, but the Chuck mask is once more put on, and he continues.
"No, not really. Okay, so after you volunteered."
*******
Castiel stands in front of pristine white desk, the sanitary aspect of it bringing a slight feeling of anxiety to the angel's grace. The room was impersonal, sanitized, and it smelled of the substance the humans called 'rubbing alcohol'. If Castiel had a stomach, it would have turned.
"I suppose you have found your perfect vessel?"
Castiel nods his heads respectfully.
"And?" Zachariah prods, frustrated the angel did not continue of his own accord.
"I have established contact; I believe he will agree when the time is right."
Zachariah nods with a slight roll of his eyes.
"You are to assume his shape when you greet the righteous man in Hell."
"I understand."
*******
"Whoa, wait a sec. You can change your true form to look like Jimmy? Why use Jimmy then?"
Cas's hand leaves Dean's knee and rests on his arm where a handprint used to be.
"Angels are allowed to appear as other beings in Heaven and Hell, however, in order to manifest on earth, a vessel is required."
"I don't remember you in Hell, man."
"You wouldn't." Cas smiles sadly and moves his hand from Dean's shoulder back to his knee. He could read from Dean's reaction that the other man got comfort from the feeling, and Cas did as well.
*******
"Ideally, you will retrieve him before he sheds blood in Hell."
Castiel's eyes scrunch in confusion before realization dawns upon them. "I do not understand brother, you wish to stop the apocalypse, but you mentioned the righteous man is Michael's true vessel."
Castiel notices an almost imperceptible tick on one of the angel's lips, and he tilts one of his heads.
"It is true we are trying to prevent the end of times, Castiel, however, we are preparing for the worst-case scenario. Hell is a vast place, and covertly finding a soul may be a long task."
"I understand."
*******
"What a dick. Glad I stabbed that slimy son-of-a-bitch."
"Yeah, he did go off script."
Dean's leg begins to bounce and Cas squeezes once, twice, three times, before Dean calms it. If Dean was being honest with himself, which he typically didn't allow himself to be, he would say he would enjoy being completely enveloped by Cas at this point. Chuck's little game of 'Cas's story' was tearing off bits of his heart, or soul. Revelations were coming too quickly, too intensely, and he was still riding the emotions of purgatory. He knew Cas must really fucking love him to forgive him so readily. Fuck, the guy volunteered to drag his sorry ass out of hell. And he knew Cas loved him, because the angel told him in that barn where he was dying. 'I love you. I love all of you.' The 'all of you' offered after Dean couldn't choke out a response because he was a fucking coward. But leaning into Cas's side, allowing the angel to wrap his arm around him would be a sign of weakness in front of Chuck, and he wasn't going to show any weakness in front of that dick.
But fuck it, if they got out of this shitty fake bar, with its good whiskey and shitty coffee, he was gonna let Cas hold him. Fuck, they would even cuddle, and maybe, hopefully more. If it didn't make Cas too happy. Dean smirks slightly before he gets angry again.
"Why'd you make that fucking deal Cas?"
Castiel narrows his eyes and offers a sort of disbelief to his friend. "Are you serious, Dean? We are currently discussing the deal you made."
"Yeah, well, I didn't have anybody besides Sammy." Dean looks into his cup, which has been magically refilled. He halfway notices Chuck's interested stare at the two of them. He decided he didn't care.
"You are upset I didn't take you and Sam into consideration?"
"Well, yeah."
Cas nods solemnly, and removes his hand from Dean's knee, and Dean immediately misses the connection.
Fuck. Dean knows he fucked up again. "Look, I get it, okay. Jack was your son."
"Our son, Dean."
Chuck raises his eyebrow, and Dean shakes his head quickly to focus only on Cas. "Yeah, man, our son, and I know I would've probably done the same thing, but man, I..."
Cas allows his eyes to calm and stares into his friend's. "You what, Dean?"
Dean takes a sip of his coffee in order to break the intense gaze. "I need you, and now, what, if you're happy 'poof' you're gone?"
Cas sighs. "I doubt I will be happy for a very long time, Dean."
Well, if that just didn't crush Dean's very soul. He nods, lips pursed. "Right."
"That was a really fun intermission, but uh, let's get back to the story, kay?"
*******
The Seraphim took on the visage of his true vessel in order to more readily blend into the souls of Hell. Enochian sigils were wound around him in a type of binding, hiding him from the demons of Hell. If he were to get too close to a demon, they would be able to recognize him, and he would have to do battle. His blade had to be pulled from the ether and held between the folds of binding, since there was no plane he could summon the weapon from in Perdition.
Castiel soon learned the time of Hell was not the same as the time of Heaven or earth. He wondered through the fires and the ice for days, weeks, months, years. The human souls recognized him for what he was, and he often had to stab them through, for them to be destroyed. He tried to leave them, but they threatened to tell of his existence to the demon guards. They were only gone long enough for Castiel to leave them, as Hell did not easily let go of the souls it possessed.
"Water." A dry, parched voice begged.
Castiel chanced a glance at the speaker and winced. He walked over to the inverted cross and watched as blood dripped from the body of Judas Iscariot into the red clay surrounding him. Judas's eyes pleaded, begged.
"Mercy, please Angel."
Castiel's nostrils flared and he kneeled. "You betrayed our Lord."
Judas allows tears to escape, which makes two small puddles beneath him. "I beg forgiveness, Angel. You know as well as I, He would grant it."
Castiel opens one of the folds to produce a small clay pot. He pours a small amount of the liquid onto Judas's tongue. The traitor cries all the more. "Thank you, neighbor. Your secret is safe with me."
"Do you know the location of the Righteous Man?"
Judas's eyes narrow, the creases in his brow deepen. "The one who is to stop it all?"
Castiel nods.
"I have heard of his arrival, but you are on the wrong side of Hell, Angel. Here, the souls are destined to be tortured for all eternity with no respite. On the other side, they keep the souls who are being prepared."
Castiel narrows his eyes as he places more water in Judas's mouth. "Prepared for what?"
"Torture. Those souls are being trained to work over here."
Castiel breathes in deeply as he stands. "They are being made into demons."
"I believe that is the ultimate goal, Angel. Thank you for showing mercy. You must be in high favor with the Son."
Castiel glances to the side before he nods and continues walking.
The Angel walks on for days in the desolate nothingness. He can hear or see nothing, and a feeling close to panic rises in his grace. He must find the righteous man before he sheds blood. Castiel feels something trace along the feathers of one of his wings that should be invisible on this plane, and he draws his blade. He looks down to see how his visage has changed from that of his true vessel to an undescriptive angel, a wavelength of grace. His feelings of curiosity are held back by the feeling of fear.
"Calm yourself brother, you are in no danger from me."
Castiel recognizes the voice, and his grace becomes cold and defensive. He stands as tall as his visage will allow.
"You are not my brother, Lucifer."
The cage is a lonely place, sitting in the middle of Hell, surrounded by nothing above, below, or beside it. It is miniscule, a torturous device all on its own.
The Morningstar laughs, a mirthless sound that chills Castiel to his core. He draws his grace tighter into the protection of the sigils. The beautiful archangel looks up and points what could be translated as a forefinger up toward the firmament.
"They're getting there you know, my demons? They're going to get me topside."
Lucifer makes what Castiel would consider an exasperated expression when the Seraph fails to understand Lucifer's meaning.
"To rise, brother, to earth."
"Not as long as I am standing, brother."
"Yeah, about that, who are you anyway, there's so much Echonian shit on you even I can't tell which angel you are. Gabe?"
Castiel tilts his head. "I am no one."
"Well, you got no personality, that's for sure. It's been millennia of nothing and the first being I get to talk to is you. Just my luck."
Castiel fills his visage with air and then lets it out in the semblance of a breath. "Are you not tired, Lucifer, of trying, of holding out hope for something that will never come to fruition?"
"Oh, it will little brother, it will. Why are you here?"
"I am on a mission."
Lucifer raises all of his eyes to the heavens. "Duh. What mission? Maybe I can help you." At an attempt in a laissez faire attitude, Lucifer leans against the bars and regards Castiel with only half of his eyes.
Castiel lowers his head, a slight smile apparent on his lips. "You are called by humanity as 'the great deceiver' for a reason, Lucifer. I shall not be tricked by you. You perverted humanity because you are nothing but a petulant child who could not respect Father's wishes. I am certain you feel it was because you loved Father too much, or perhaps because you have the Mark, but I assure you brother, it is only because you are the least of us."
Lucifer rages against the bars and all of his many eyes burn red. Castiel stands his ground, confident in the cage's warding.
"How dare you, you are nothing! When I am freed from this prison, I will kill you slowly, you will feel me all throughout your grace, you will be filled with me for as long as your lifeforce can withstand it. So, enjoy your freedom Angel."
With a head tilt and a smirk, the Angel nods. "Good luck, brother."
The Angel continues his journey, something filling his grace that gives him a renewed sense of vigor.
*******
Dean looks to his friend, slack jawed. "That's uh, fucking impressive, Cas."
Castiel looks down at his hands, which are folded on the table. "I believe that particular interaction was removed during one of my fine tunings."
Chuck nods. "Oh yeah, sure. Uh, when they took you back to Heaven's secret lab after the whole 'bonding with Dean' thing, they found that and removed it."
"Why?" Cas asks, timid.
Dean falters at Cas's sudden lack of confidence.
"Uh, okay, I think because they were..."
"Jealous." Dean interrupts.
And there goes the hand again. Dean tries to hide his smile as he feels Cas slightly squeeze his knee. He brings his mug up to his lips. Chuck just shakes his head at him again.
"Yeah, that."
"But why would any angel be jealous of me? I was always the failure, the story that was told to keep other angels in line."
"Not true, son, not at all. You've been on earth long enough to see what jealously can do to people."
Cas nods. "Yes, I suppose that is true."
*******
The Angel Castiel walks for months before reaching the edge of the other side of Hell. The side for preparing souls to torture. Castiel can feel the hopelessness in the atmosphere, he almost chokes on it. It presents as a type of fog that Castiel struggles to breathe through. He first stumbles upon a demon named Aristede training a new cadet.
"That's right, choose your weapon carefully."
The newly recruited soul was a young woman, her soul dimmed by its experiences in Hell already. A murky, milky substance swirled inside her soul, blocking its light, encompassing. She outstretches her fingers over the table, seemingly to select her weapon. Castiel can feel her hesitation however, she is not scared, she doesn't want to do this. Castiel watches as she looks over at the soul on her rack.
"Please, please, please, oh God... I didn't think this would really happen." The soul begins to cry, great big tears that fall from his face onto the tile floor, making a slight 'splash' sound. The girl shakes, her fingers unable to pick a weapon.
Aristede's upper lip curls and he turns the girl around by her red hair violently, forcefully.
"If you're not ready, you can always go back on the rack."
"No, no, I'm..."
Castiel approaches them silently and plunges his blade through Aristede's back, causing the demon's form to fill with red electricity, and then he disappears. The girl turns to him in fear, her eyes wide, and holding a knife in front of her. Castiel shakes his head slowly and she replaces it onto the table.
The angel cuts the other soul off the rack and regards them both, head turned to the side. He once more looks like his vessel and he is attempting to look kind.
"You're an angel." The soul on the table blubbers out.
"Can you save us?" The girl asks, a note of hope in her voice that breaks Castiel a bit.
His brow furrows, his nostrils flare, and he feels a ping of something behind his eyes. "I am so sorry, I cannot."
"But you're an angel."
Castiel nods. "And I wish I could tell you that we an infallible species, capable of any and everything, but we are not. I am here on a very specific mission, and killing the demon went beyond it. I do not have the power to bring you from the pit."
"What good was rescuing us then?"
Castiel purses his lips and looks to the tile floor below him, crimson with dried blood, and red where tears and sweat began to wash it away.
"I do not know. There is another side to Hell, although I do not know if you will find it any more desirable. You can run, hide. The demons have been... distracted, you may have a chance."
They both nod, eyes bloodshot, and they run.
*******
Dean notices as Cas closes his eyes, seemingly against the memories, and Dean puts one of his hands on top of Cas's. Fuck whatever Chuck thinks.
Cas smiles sadly at him, his eyes brimming with tears.
As they continue Cas's greatest hits, Dean realizes more and more he doesn't deserve the angel, and his self-doubt causes him to begin to lift his hand. He is stopped when Cas turns his palm upwards and laces Dean's fingers with his own. Dean's heart all but stops, and he closes his finger's around Cas's.
Fuck. They're holding hands. Wasn't this like first base or something? In front of God? Dean begins to panic a little as he feels sweat start to gather on his forehead and under his collar. That feeling is soon replaced by a cooling sensation and Dean realizes Cas's is sharing his grace with him, calming him. His sweat magically evaporates, and he once more finds his normal breathing pattern. He really didn't fucking deserve the angel.
Okay, but the holding hands thing meant something right? It had to; they'd never done this before. He squeezed Cas's hand even tighter, which the angel took as an encouragement to continue.
*******
"Once your soul has been here long enough Dean, you will not require use of your hands."
The angel's grace drew in tightly at the sound of the demon know as Alistair. Castiel noted how his voice was the equivalent of human mucus, smooth, but unpleasant. He immediately disliked how the demon said the name of the Righteous Man. A possessiveness readily attached itself to his grace as he took in the brightness of Dean's soul. It was a beautiful thing, as bright as any star, and Castiel felt an unknown emotion swell in the middle of his grace, flowing throughout his entire form. It presented as a type of red, a color never before seen or felt by any angel. It frightened Castiel, but one more look at the man's soul steeled his grace.
Dean resolutely picked up a knife, and Castiel could easily discern this was not the man's first time as torturer. He looked to the side and wondered how his soul could remain so bright. He wished he could have seen it before the taint of hell.
Dean's upper lip wobbles slightly as he looks at the soul on his rack in front of him. The soul is a middle-aged man, pleas being uttered from thin lips.
"I only wanted the money, I didn't do anything to anybody." He begins to cry and Castiel watches with interest as Dean's lip settles and his nostrils flare minutely.
"Don't matter."
Dean takes the knife and begins to make small incisions all over the man, causing the soul to scream out in pain and beg for mercy.
"Should've thought of that before taking that deal."
"I just wanted the money!" He yells as Dean makes more small cuts over the man's torso.
Alistair smiles in a particularly disturbing fashion, a motion that only takes half of his mouth, in a sick prevision of a snarl.
"Good job Dean-o. I am going to check on my other recruits, and you finish with him, hum?"
As soon as the demon is out of sight, Dean braces his palms against the table and leans into it.
"I'm sorry man, I really am, but..."
"Either you or me, huh?"
Dean nods sadly as he goes to change instruments.
Castiel approaches him carefully, the man on the table eyeing him warily. Dean turns around and almost impales him with the knife. His eyes widen in realization, and Castiel notices his eyes are the same color of the best feelings grace can produce when they combine.
"Dean Winchester, I am Castiel, I am here to raise you from the pit of despair."
Dean chuckles. "Sure you are feathers. You some kind of new torture program? I mean, gotta admit, pretty easy on the eyes, but, other than that..." Dean clicks his tongue, tries to hide the shake in his hand, but is unsuccessful.
Castiel lays a steady hand on his, and Dean turns quickly to stab him with the blade in the chest. Castiel removes it and places it on the table behind him.
"Dean, you are the Righteous Man, and I am here as an emissary of Heaven to bring you out of Hell."
"I'll go if he doesn't want to."
Castiel sighs at the man on the table and puts two fingers to his forehead. The man falls asleep instantly.
"Souls can't sleep. You kill him or something?"
Castiel shakes his head. "I am an angel; we know a few things about souls." He tries to smile warmly.
"Well, that whole thing about the Righteous Man shit, don't believe you there, pal, I'm uh..." Dean gestures to the rack in front of him "about as fucking far from righteous as you're gonna get. So uh, you may want to start looking for the right guy."
Castiel had not planned on the soul he was to save arguing with him. "I understand your lack of faith, Dean. I must tell you, this does not occur often. Angels do not typically save souls from Hell, however, you are an exception."
Dean scoffs. "Yeah, whatever, I uh, don't deserve to be saved, so why don't you just fuck off, Cas?"
Castiel squints at the nickname, but readily accepts it. He grabs Dean's wrist and the man immediately snatches his wrist back.
"No. You take me, Sammy goes back to being dead, no."
Castiel can see the pain in Dean's eyes, the tears there threatening to escape. He feels a type of pull to Dean's soul as a warmth radiated throughout at the mention of his brother.
"Your brother will remain alive, Dean. I promise."
Dean laughs coldly. "Yeah, I'm not all about miracles, so, pass."
"You are very stubborn."
Dean allows a type of smile to from at the right side of his mouth. "Yeah, should've been my middle name."
"An adjective would be a very odd middle name."
The smile grows from there, turning into a full one, prompting a slight one from Cas as well.
"Well, thanks for the distraction, from you know, literal Hell, but uh, I ain't going."
"I have no choice, Dean."
Castiel grabs his wrist once more and Dean breaks his grip and takes on a fighting stance. "I ain't going Cas. I don't deserve to be saved."
Cas risks detection and breaks the bindings surrounding his form. His wings unfurl from his visage and Dean's eyes grow wide once more.
"Still ain't going man."
Cas moves to behind Dean quickly, and wraps his arms around the man, each hand laying on the upper part of one of Dean's arms. Dean resists violently at first, twisting and turning to break his hold, but Castiel remains stoic, and Dean eventually settles into him, his head resting on the angel's shoulder, tears streaming down his face.
Castiel can feel the demons approach and his eyes look heavenward. "We have been detected."
Castiel crouches, taking Dean with him and uses the propulsion to take flight, his wings flapping every so often. His flight is effortless, streamlined, and perfect. He feels the hordes of Hell at his feet and wills himself to go faster.
He hears Dean call his name as a demon approaches their side. Castiel lets go of one of Dean's arms to draw his blade and smite the demon. The demon fights back, otherworldly teeth bared, and nipping at Castiel's feathers. He manages to snag one in-between his teeth, causing a scream to erupt from Castiel's lips. The pain seared white-hot through his grace and his true vessel's handprint is seared onto Dean's bicep. Castiel plunges the blade deeply into the demon's chest, reveling in the beast's cry.
Castiel replaces the blade, grips Dean tightly once more, and continues his flight from Hell. Once they break the surface, Castiel cries:
"Dean Winchester is saved!"
*******
Holy fucking shit. Dean looks to his best friend, who in a rare role reversal, avoids his gaze. Dean's throat feels dry and full of cotton. He needs some air or something. But his hand is still being held by the angel who ripped his stubborn ass of hell and he may just have had his entire worldview upended. He holds that angel's hand as if his life depended on it.
Chuck's face scrunches up in mock thought and he takes the pencil from behind his ear and begins to chew on the eraser slightly.
"Huh. Okay, so the flirting in Hell should've given me a clue as to this story's trajectory, but it just got erased from you, from him, that I guess I kinda just erased it all."
Chuck replaces the pencil and totally ignores the existential crises happening in front of him.
Dean lowers his voice to a whisper, as if that would do any good keeping Chuck from hearing him. "Did you remember that, Cas?"
Castiel looks to him and shakes his head slightly. "I remembered most when we first met, however, after I was taken back to heaven..."
Dean nods, "They took it out of you." He pauses. "What about me?"
Cas looks up to a fabricated ceiling. "I was under instruction to remove the memories you would have of me in hell."
"Why?"
Cas purses his lips and offers Dean a sad smile. "I suppose Zachariah was concerned you would become attached to me, and with my history..."
Dean allows a slight laugh to escape his nose. He works valiantly against the tears threatening to prick his eyes. He squeezes Cas's hand. "We showed him, huh?"
Chuck lets out an exasperated sigh. "I just don't get it. We need to go back to the story, cause this is way more intense than it ever should have been. I'm trying to pinpoint the exact moment it turned into..." Chuck removes the pencil once more and uses it to gesticulate between angel and hunter "this. Readers are gonna love that."
*******
Castiel carried the soul of Dean Winchester to the grave his brother so lovingly and despairingly prepared. He opens up the wooden box and reunites body and soul. His true form is a hinderance on this plane, and he begins to carefully rebuild the body entrusted in his care.
He detects every flaw in the physical body and sets it right. He counts the freckles and makes sure they match those of the soul. He regards each molecule that makes up Dean Winchester and ensures they are perfect. Try as he might, however, the handprint transferred from soul to body and could not be healed. The grace was burned into the very fabric of his existence. The angel sits back on his haunches, thinking. His instruction had been clear – save and rebuild the righteous man to perfection. But to him, Dean Winchester would have been perfect even with the callouses, the propensity to acid reflux, the scars he had gotten from years of saving humanity.
Castiel places a hand on the man's forehead and regrettably erases the memories the two of them shared in Hell. Castiel would have preferred the man know how strong he is. He replaces the lid loosely, covers the grave back with dirt, and steps back. He watches silently, invisibly, with what would be bated breath as the Righteous Man claws his way out of the box. He breathes the equivalent of a sigh of relief as Dean emerges, shaken, confused, and lost.
Castiel wishes to reach out to him, to explain, but he is without a vessel. He hopes Dean can hear him in his true form, so he can explain to him just how important he is.
*******
Chuck presses the period key with a flourish. "And that is the end of chapter one." He looks so self-satisfied, Dean wants to punch him again, and he smiles slightly as the squeeze that follows his thought.
"Great. Think we can get a break between chapters?"
Chuck regards him, pouts his lips, shrugs, and says, "Why not?"
Castiel releases Dean's hand and stands up, stretching legs that still don't need to be stretched. Dean follows suit. He nudges Cas, indicating the angel should follow him outside.
"Yes, Dean?" He inquires once they are outside, they both know it is only an illusion, but it does offer a different air.
"Fuck, man." Dean pulls him into a tight embrace and Cas readily reciprocates.
"I wished for you never to hear any of this. I am sorry Chuck brought you in. I was just afraid you were going to do..."
Dean smirks as he pulls away. "Something stupid?"
Cas inclines his head and nods. "Yes."
"I would've Cas. Done something stupid. You and Sammy always bring out the stupid in me."
"Is that a compliment?"
Dean shakes his head fondly at the angel's mock confusion. "It's the truth. How long did you look for me down there, man?"
Castiel looks at a spot beyond Dean's right shoulder. It is a store, or would be if it were real, that boasts the 'world's best boiled peanuts' and Cas wonders what type of statement Chuck is making with that choice. He answers his best friend's question very quietly, as if it were a sacred admission: "Thirty-five Hell years."
Dean can feel his stomach sink. He grabs Cas again. He always thought Cas just reached in there and yanked him out, and that was that, an action that took mere seconds. Cas talks into his shoulder:
"I would've followed immediately, Dean, however, I had to contact Jimmy."
Dean takes a risk and threads his hand in Cas's hair. Cas's body responds slowly at first, but he soon understands where Dean is taking this and he grips Dean's back tighter.
A million things run through Dean's mind to say. By the end of Chuck's stupid book, I'm probably gonna fall in love with you. I love you so fucking much, Cas. You were the beginning of my second existence. I miss that handprint so fucking much, you have no idea. I sometimes think about you coming into my room after I go to bed, and I think about all the things we can do to each other. I want to do sappy shit with you. You are so my Huckleberry. I kinda die inside whenever you die. I wish you hadn't made that stupid fucking deal because I want to make you so happy every day for the rest of my life your grace explodes. I want us to get a house one day on some beach and Sam and Eileen can come by for their vacations. I want to see if you're that tan everywhere. But he decides on none of those as he backs up from their embrace.
Dean looks at his shoes for a moment. "So uh, you know it's true, right?"
Dean looks up just enough to see Cas's raised brow. "You are easy on the eyes."