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January 6, 2011.
Dean cannot actually fucking believe this.
“Dean.”
“I know, man, hold on. What’s your favorite color?”
Silence, and then, “Green.”
“Gotcha. What about this?” He holds up a plaid shirt, green and brown, and Cas nods. “Awesome, so, jeans. I don’t know what size you are. This is fucking ridiculous.” He fishes his phone out, and Sam sighs when he answers.
“It can’t honestly be this difficult, Dean. This is the third time you’ve called me.”
“I don’t know what size jeans he is.”
“Try some on.”
“Well shit, Sherlock, thanks for that one. It’s not like I have a naked angel stuffed in a carriage in the Gap or anything. This is so goddamn—ugh!” he finishes before slamming his phone shut.
“Dean.”
“I know, I’m going, I’m sorry.”
“What size was Sam?”
“What? Oh. That’s a really good idea. Okay, these look good.” He grabs a few pairs, tosses them in, and then actually smacks his forehead. “Dude, you need—stuff.”
“Stuff?” Cas repeats.
“Just—God, this is awkward.” He pushes the carriage over to the underwear section, and Castiel’s cheeks blush wildly. Dean forces himself not to think about how adorable the uncontrollable reaction is. When they’re all settled with that, they hurry off into the changing rooms, and Dean is about to close the door so Castiel can have some privacy when his tiny little hand snatches his wrist. He looks down at Cas, who looks absolutely terrified, and he sighs, shoulders sagging. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, following him in.
Witches. He fucking hates witches. He told Sam they should’ve stayed away, told him shit would get messy, but Sam refused to listen, and now here they are, Dean and Cas, in a changing room in the Baby Gap because Castiel is a fucking four-year-old. Dean’s not even really sure how it happened. They’d been ambushed, which was rare enough, but it was witches, and so Dean figures it was just a special occasion because witches, man. He’s never going to let Sammy go for this one. One of them had grabbed one of Castiel’s arms and twisted while another drove a sledgehammer into his spine, and Dean had watched him go down, howling in pain and shoulders exploding into massive brown wings, dark like his hair, panting, his arm hanging limp by his side. He’d quickly realized what they’d managed to do, but, before he could fold his wings away again, they’d torn one backward, snapped the bone right in half, and then another had sprung forward, a bag of colorful dust in her hand. Dean had been too concerned with getting Castiel out of there to notice his wing slowly healing and his body quickly shrinking. By the time he’d made it outside, and the witches had disappeared, Castiel was half his normal size and panicking. It hadn’t taken long after that to understand what they’d done.
That had been yesterday.
And now, here they were. Dean’s on clothes duty, and Cas had been exceptionally brutal about it, refusing to go outside with only one of Dean’s old t-shirts on, but there really had been nothing to it, and so Dean had carefully explained to him, gotten a smack in the face from a baby-sized wing, and then they’d been off.
“Can you manage these by yourself?” Dean asks, already turning as he hands out the small package of underwear.
Cas takes them from him, and he waits until he tugs on his jeans before he turns again, and Castiel is already pulling his arms through the sleeves. Dean bends to a knee, pushing his hands away gently and buttoning up the shirt. One of the jeans fit, Castiel looks at himself in the mirror, and then they set about undressing him. “Just a little longer, I just have to pay for these, and then you can change back into them, and we’ll get more, okay?” he tries to argue, pulling the raggedy AC/DC t-shirt over his head. Cas nods, looking up at Dean with his huge, round blue eyes.
It’s unfair, Dean decides, how damn adorable Cas is as a toddler. His eyes are even bluer than normal, larger, too, and he still has all the same mannerisms, so he just stares and tilts his head, and it’s the cutest thing ever on his baby face. His hair is all a mess from the fussing, and it won’t flatten anyway, but Dean likes it.
Once he’s got Castiel back in the carriage, he heads up front, and he drapes his jacket over Cas’ legs in the carriage, to which he receives a small smile. After he pays, they head back into the changing room, get that over with, and then they’re wandering about the store, Cas more attentive this time around. They end up with another pair of jeans, a blue and grey striped sweater, and a plain white v-neck, and Dean’s starting to head back to the registers when Castiel grabs onto his jeans. He stumbles to a halt, looking down. “What’s up?”
“It’s January,” Castiel says matter-of-factly, and Dean nods.
“Right. January. Winter. Shit, you need shoes, too.” And so then they’re looking at jackets and shoes, and they end up with a little pair of Converse that Dean will not stop smiling at, a tan jacket similar to Sam’s, and a black sweatshirt.
When that’s all said and done, Dean takes the bags in one hand and scoops Cas up in the other, shifting him onto his hip. Cas loops an arm around the back of his shoulders, the other fisting loosely in his jacket. “Are you hungry?” Dean asks once they’re settled in the car, Castiel carefully buckled in. The little angel nods, and Dean returns the gesture before pulling out. They end up in a diner where Castiel sits on his knees until a waitress notices and brings him a booster seat. “Dude, you’re tiny,” Dean comments, grinning, and Castiel glares, “It’s kind of adorable.”
Castiel huffs, glaring back down at his menu. “I hate this,” he says dejectedly after a moment. When Dean arches an eyebrow, he flattens the menu and folds his hands together. It’s frighteningly adult-like, and Dean has to hide his grin around his coffee. “I want chicken fingers.” Dean snorts into his coffee.
“I’m sorry,” he says afterward, rubbing his face, “Fries, too?”
“Yes, please.”
“Look, Cas, we’re gonna fix this, okay? I promise you, this isn’t permanent.”
“Thank you,” he says softly, and Dean just nods, leaning over to rumple his hair before their waitress arrives. He orders for both of them, sneaking in a chocolate shake in a whisper when Castiel isn’t paying attention.
“How is your wing?” he asks once the waitress has left.
“It hurts,” Castiel admits, rolling his shoulder, “Being little doesn’t help.”
He blinks, and Dean frowns. “Not what you meant to say?” Castiel shakes his head. “It might be difficult to say some things because they’re unnatural for four-year-olds.” Cas just sighs, dropping his chin into his hand and staring out the window. When the shake arrives, however, he brightens immediately, thanking Dean in a high, happy voice.
Sam calls halfway through their lunch, and Dean moves to pour Cas more ketchup as he answers, “Got anything?”
“Bobby has no idea. He checked with Rufus, too, and he’s got nothing. I can call Lucifer.”
“Sam, no. Not yet.” Castiel looks up. Dean meets his gaze for a moment before lowering the phone, “I’ll be right back, okay?” Castiel pouts, crossing his arms, and Dean sighs. “Sam wants to call Lucifer. Oh great, he’s going to start screaming bloody murder,” he says to Sam at Castiel’s very quick transformation into raging anger, “Cas, we’re not going to.” That calms him down a bit, and Dean returns to Sam, “Dude, it’s humiliating to him. He doesn’t want other angels to see him like this.”
“Alright, well, if Bobby and Rufus don’t come up with anything soon, we’re going to have to.”
“Call Ellen.”
“Yeah, I will. Where are you guys?”
“Lunch. We’ll be back soon.”
“Okay. I’m gonna call Ellen, I guess. I’ll see you soon.”
When Dean hangs up, Castiel starts, “I don’t want Lucy to know.” His eyes go wide, and he snaps his mouth shut.
“Lucy?” Dean repeats.
“I didn’t—Dean!”
“Hey, woah, it’s okay!” Dean exclaims, reaching a hand forward to take Cas’ small one in his, squeezing it lightly, “It’s okay, like I said, it’s probably just difficult.” Cas’ lower lip trembles, and Dean sighs. “Alright, are you done?” Castiel nods solemnly, and so Dean pulls out his wallet. He leaves forty on the table before going around to pick Castiel up. When they’re settled in the car again, Castiel leans against the door, and Dean glances over at him every so often, heart aching. He’s so reminisce of Sam when he was little, and it pains him to see him upset.
“Where are we?” Castiel asks when they stop, and Dean grins.
“Will you be okay if I run inside for a few minutes?” Castiel nods. Without thinking, Dean leans over and presses a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll be right back, okay? Lock the doors.” He ruffles Castiel’s hair before sliding out of the car and heading toward the building. He checks in at the front, and he’s walked back to his dad’s old storage room where they’ve started keeping things, some things neither of them will admit are there. He rummages around for a bit until he’s successful, and then he’s making his way back to the car, hands behind his back.
As he approaches the car, he smiles. Cas is curled up in his seat, thumb jammed in his mouth, and sleeping soundly. Dean is careful to be quiet as he opens the door and slides in, and he places the teddy bear in between them. It has a little red bowtie and a chunk missing out of its ear, but it’s well-loved and not at all deflated.
The ride back to the motel doesn’t take long, but Cas is still asleep when he pulls in, and so he gets the Gap bags out of the back first, dropping them just inside the door, shouting hello to Sam, before he goes back to collect the little angel, the bear in one hand and Castiel in the other, head resting on his shoulder.
“Dude, is that Bernard, your old teddy bear?” Sam asks when Dean walks in, and then he takes note of Castiel and shuts up. Dean pulls back the blankets before lying him down, and he sets about untying his shoes after he’s deposited the bear next to Cas. Once he’s all tucked in and comfortable, Dean sits opposite Sam at the table.
“Yeah, man, it’s Bernard,” Dean sighs at Sam’s smirk, and his brother just shrugs, going back to his laptop.
“It’s cute,” he says after a moment, and Dean rolls his eyes, “So, you got clothes?”
“Yeah, not too much. Just two pairs of jeans and a few shirts. Shoes, too, and a jacket. Because it’s January, so says the smartass baby angel.”
“He sucks his thumb.”
“It’s fucking adorable, man. I hate child Cas.”
“Why, cos he makes it even easier to fall in love with?”
“Basically.”
They’ve been dancing around this, Dean and Cas’ feelings for each other, and they haven’t really gotten anywhere concrete, but they both know, and they’ve been working up to something more, but then this shit happened.
Cas wakes up two hours later, yawning widely and stretching his little limbs. Dean is perched on the bed next to him, back against the wall, lazily watching some show on TV, and Cas glances over at it blearily before he notices the bear. He blinks, pulling it away from where he’s curled around it, and the movement catches Dean’s attention. “Hey,” he says tiredly, yawning and rubbing his face, “How was your nap?”
“Nap?” Cas repeats, and Dean laughs.
“Yeah, man, you were out cold in the car.”
“Out cold?”
“Asleep. Kids nap, you know.”
“That sucks. Is this yours?”
“Uh…” Dean trails off, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
“Thank you,” Castiel saves him, hugging the bear to him again and turning onto his back, “What’s his name?”
“Bernard. I haven’t seen him in ages.”
“Bernard,” Castiel tries out the name, “Did Mary name him?” Dean swallows the sudden lump in his throat, nodding stiffly. Before he can feel sorry for himself, though, the bed shifts, and he looks down to see Castiel scooting closer to him. He clumsily pulls his pillow with him, and, when he finishes, he’s snug against Dean’s side, head resting against his stomach. He’s elevated now because Dean isn’t lying down but he isn’t really sitting up either, and he stares over at the TV, yawning. “What’s this?” he mumbles, pointing to the TV.
“Something you probably shouldn’t be watching,” he says, absentmindedly fishing for the remote and flipping through until he lands on some movie.
“Where’s Sam?” the little angel asks after a few minutes, and Dean smiles when he nuzzles against him, sighing contently when Dean drags his hand up and down his back. The arm that’s curled around Bernard fastens around Dean, the bear pressing into his jaw, and his little fingers fist in Dean’s t-shirt near his mouth so he can pop his thumb back in.
“Out somewhere. Why, you need him?”
“No, I’m fine,” Cas says around his thumb, “I’m sleepy.”
“Well, don’t go back to sleep. You won’t be able to tonight, and I am so not doing a repeat of last night, you little terror.”
“Can we do something, then?”
“Sure,” Dean says, rubbing his face with his free hand as his other pets through his unruly hair, “I think I saw a park somewhere.”
“It’s January,” Castiel reminds him, and Dean tugs on his hair lightly.
“You can still play in the snow.”
“Okay.” Castiel’s already clambering off the bed when Dean processes what he said. Except Cas forgets how high the bed is again, and Dean swears when he suddenly disappears over the edge. The door opens at the same time he hurries over to the other side of the bed, dropping to his knees and pulling Cas toward him.
“You’re okay,” he whispers, rubbing his back as Cas buries his face in Dean’s chest and shakes, tears threatening. “You’re okay, it was just a little fall, you’re alright,” he soothes, but then Cas breaks, hiccupping through a sob before he’s full blown crying, and Dean holds him tightly, images of an upset Sam flooding his mind, but he has to concentrate, and he pushes his face against Cas’ hair, trying to calm him.
He knows it’s more than just falling off the bed, knows it’s the fact that he landed on his shoulder, knows it’s his screwed up wing, knows it’s this whole damn mess, knows it’s because he’s four that he can’t control his reactions.
“Dude, is everything okay?” Sam’s voice floats over to him, and he registers his bag dropping heavily on the ground before he’s hovering behind Dean.
“Cas,” he whispers, pulling the shaking angel away from him. He smoothes his hair out of his face, and thumbs the wetness under his big blue eyes. “Your wing, huh?” he murmurs, and Cas nods. He has his right arm tucked against him. “Do you want me to see if I can do anything? Maybe it didn’t set all the way when you were trying to heal.”
“I didn’t heal it,” Cas whispers, lower lip trembling again.
“Cas,” he sighs, dropping his forehead’s to the angel’s, “Why not?”
“I couldn’t. I was too weak.”
“So, you’ve had a broken wing this whole time?” When Cas nods, Dean sighs again and then carefully stands up, Castiel cradled in his arms. Sam’s already getting supplies from his bag while Dean settles Cas in the middle of the bed. “What?” he says when Cas makes grabby hands at him. He points to the floor, and Dean retrieves Bernard, who Cas instantly hugs close to him; Dean hopes Sam doesn’t see his wobbly smile.
He works the buttons open on Cas’ shirt next before he pushes a few pillows behind him, and then he pulls off his boots as Sam sits on the edge of the bed. Dean sits in front of him, rubbing a hand over Cas’ knee. “Whenever you’re ready,” he says, and Castiel nods, hugging Bernard tighter to him. He buries his face in the bear’s head, and Dean winces when he cries out, little body trembling violently. His wings materialize with a snap and a sob.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Dean comforts, scooting closer and carding his fingers through Castiel’s hair, “It’s okay, we’re gonna fix it.”
“Dean, it needs to be set,” Sam says quietly, nodding toward the wing. They’re much littler than his adult wings, though they’re still something to be feared. The two brothers look at each other for a moment. “I’ll do it,” Sam says finally, “Just keep him calm.”
As Sam is moving over to the other side of the bed, though, the lights flicker, and Dean immediately moves in front of Castiel, reaching for the knife in his pocket. The door opens, and, a moment later, Sam apologizes and Lucifer walks in. Dean shakes his head, pulling his hand back out of his pocket. “You told him where we were?” he accuses, looking to Sam.
“Dude, you know I don’t have to anymore. He always knows where we are,” Sam reminds.
But Lucifer isn’t paying any attention to them. He easily moves Sam out of the way, and they watch in shock as he perches on the edge of the bed. “Hey,” he says to Castiel, who looks up at him with wide eyes, “It’s okay, go ahead.” Castiel blinks, and Lucifer sighs. “It’s okay,” he repeats, reaching forward to lay a hand on Cas’ leg, “Go ahead.” Castiel nods, and the brothers watch in amazement as his wing slowly folds back into place harmlessly, feathers ruffling, and then it’s over, and Lucifer is straightening away from him. “Better?” he asks, and Cas nods again.
“Thank you, Lucy,” he says quietly, and Lucifer actually smiles.
“No problem, little guy,” he murmurs, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his forehead. When he pulls back, he motions to his wings, “I left a little behind so they can heal, but they’d be better if they were contained.” Cas nods, and his wings disappear with a soft flutter. “Now get dressed, I heard you were playing in the snow today.” Castiel looks up at Lucifer imploringly, and the archangel laughs softly before reaching forward and scooping him up. He sets Cas down on the ground, tosses him his shirt, and then he returns his attention to the brothers.
“That was—interesting,” Dean lands on, nodding slowly.
“Castiel is as much my brother as Sam is yours. Angel wings are a very specific thing. While they can be healed by human hands, there is much room for error.”
“So, what? You leant him a piece of your grace or something?” When Lucifer arches an eyebrow, Dean whistles, “Wow, so you did. Thanks, man.”
“I know you asked me not to come,” Lucifer says to Sam, “But I was—I was worried about my brother. I didn’t want him to go through unnecessary pain.”
“It’s okay. Thank you. Do you, uh—do you know anything that could reverse this?”
“I do not. I didn’t even know it was possible, but I promise I will help you look. Dean, would object to me staying here while you try to figure things out?”
“Uh, no, not really. We were going to pack it up soon, though.”
“We want to get away from the witches, just in case,” Sam explains.
“You should leave before tonight, if possible. I can take care of the witches,” Lucifer says, standing from the bed.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course.” He looks down as Castiel stops before Dean, leaning against his leg.
“Are we going outside?” he asks quietly, looking up at Dean.
“Sure thing, bud. Got your jacket?”
“I’ll get it!” He hurries off, and Dean sighs, palming his face.
“Alright, Sam, can you get everything together? I’ll keep him busy, away from here.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that. We’ll be ready in a few hours. I’ll call you.”
So then they’re all separating, Dean and Cas to find a park somewhere, leaving the Impala with Sam and Lucifer, who clean up the room, pack everything up, and go over details with the witches. The park they find has a fair amount of kids at it, and Dean finds an empty bench where he stuffs his hands in his jacket pockets and nudges Cas toward the playground, Cas, who looks terrified of the whole thing. “Just play, man,” he says, sitting on the bench, “You know, go on the slide, swing, jump in the snow, all that fun stuff.”
Castiel sighs, looking over at the park skeptically. “Have you ever even played on one of these?” he asks, looking back up at Dean.
“Yeah, man, of course I have. Bobby used to take Sam and me all the time.”
“Alright,” Cas says heavily before trudging off, and Dean watches him go with a smile.
“Is he yours?” a feminine voice asks, and Dean looks over as a woman sits next to him. He feels like he might throw up.
“Lisa,” he says, and he figures he shouldn’t be surprised. He knew they were in her town, but he hadn’t thought that he’d ever run into her. He remembers those months with her, trying to play the normal, apple pie life, remembers Sam trying to do the same thing in an apartment just downtown, remembers how it just hadn’t worked, how they’d been too scarred, too damaged and broken by their lives to live normal, and he remembers how much he hates himself for putting Lisa and Ben through that. “What are you doing here?” is the first thing he manages to say.
“Ben promised his cousin he’d take her to play in the snow,” she says, smiling lightly as she looks over to the park, where, Dean decides Fate is trying to torture him, Castiel is looking up with wide eyes at Ben, who is introducing himself and his little cousin. “So, is he?” she asks after a moment of silence.
“Is he—what?” he finishes lamely, still reeling from the fact that Lisa is sitting next to him.
“Yours, Dean. Is he?”
“Remember that angel I told you about? The one who helped us stop the apocalypse?” He never really told her everything, never told her the devil used Sam as a meat suit only to nearly give Dean a heart attack when they started hanging out as friends a few weeks later, never told her that he’d watched Cas and Bobby die only to be brought back again, but she knows about Cas, knows how important he is, knows there was an apocalypse, knows he stopped it. So, when Lisa nods, Dean shrugs. “That’s him.”
“The warrior angel that helped you stop the apocalypse is actually a four-year-old?” she says disbelievingly.
“There are a group of witches currently screwing around here,” Dean reveals, looking over at her, “Sam’s taking care of them, though.”
“By himself?”
“He, uh—he has help,” he decides, “But anyway, they cursed Cas, turned him into a toddler.”
“Hm. Must suck for him.”
“Yeah,” Dean lets out a laugh, running a hand through his hair, “So, uhm—how are you? Still with Matt?”
“Yeah, I am. He’s great with Ben, though Ben—well, Matt’s not you, and that pisses him off.”
“I’m sorry, I—”
“Don’t apologize, Dean. I’m glad he has you to look up to. You were a good role model for him, and he’ll always have you. I just wish he would give Matt a chance.”
“Yeah.”
Their conversation kind of derails for a bit after that until Lisa sighs and turns to him. “It was him,” she says, and Dean looks over at her, bewildered. “Don’t give me that,” she sighs, shaking her head and looking over to where Ben is helping Castiel onto a swing, “It was always him. It might have been the apocalypse and Sam and all that shit in your life, but it was always really just about him.”
Dean looks over, as well, watching Cas first grip the chains of the swing in fear and the laugh gleefully when he understands the mechanics of it. “Yeah,” he sighs, “It was.”
“It just took me to figure it out,” Lisa murmurs, “I don’t hate you for it. I just hate that you couldn’t admit to yourself how obviously in love you are with him.”
“He knows.”
“What?”
“He knows,” Dean repeats, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, “He knows everything. We’ve talked about it, a lot, actually. He knows, and he gets it, and he fucking—God, I just don’t get him. I don’t get how he could—I don’t know.”
“Love you back? Because he does. Even just hearing you talk about him, even just seeing him like this, I can tell. He adores you, Dean. And it’s not a hard thing to do.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, and he means it, and Lisa accepts it.
Before their conversation can continue on, though, someone shouts, and they look up to find Castiel lying flat on his back. Dean starts to move, but then Ben appears and helps him up, brushing off his back. He ruffles Cas’ hair and leads him away from the swings.
“I’m glad you’re happy,” Lisa says right before Dean’s phone rings.
“Thanks,” he says softly, smiling, and then he pulls his phone out, “Sam.”
“Hey man—uh—so bad news.”
“Awesome, how bad?”
“Like—you gotta get out of here now.”
“Why exactly?”
“Because they know where you are, and they’re coming to finish their shit with Cas.”
“Meaning?” Dean panics, already standing up and brushing the dusting snow off of him.
“Kill him, Dean. They weren’t trying to shrink him to a four-year-old, they were trying to kill him. Lucifer! Shit, fuck, Dean, I’m sorry.”
“Dean, we have to go,” Lucifer’s voice says, and Dean jumps, turning.
“Dude, not cool,” he says to Lucifer before returning to Sam, “What about you?”
“He’s going to zap you back here, to the Impala, you just gotta go. We’re gonna finish them. Don’t even argue with me. Cas needs you.”
“If we leave, and they know where we are, they’re going to follow us. How are you supposed to gank them if they’re on our tail?” Sam is silent at this, and Dean nods to himself. Lucifer is already heading over to where Castiel is clambering up a set of stairs to the jungle gym with Ben behind him. “Sam,” Dean says, sighing, “I’m gonna grab dinner, okay? Stay in a public place.”
“You need protection. There’s six of them, Dean.”
“Sam, we’re not exactly in excellent angel company, at the moment.”
“Dean,” Lisa says, and Dean looks down at her. She stands, crossing her arms, “I know I’m going to regret this, but what if we came with you? That would make your party larger, and they don’t exactly know who I am.” Dean hates to admit it’s a good idea. “I could be a hunter for all they know.”
“Is that Lisa?” Sam asks on the other line, “She has a point.”
Lisa is already walking away, going to collect Ben and her niece as Lucifer comes over with Castiel holding onto his hand tightly, following as best he can. “What’s going on?” Lucifer asks as he approaches.
“Sam, I’m sending your boyfriend back your way,” he grumbles before hanging up, “You’re going back with Sam, Lisa and I am taking the kids to dinner somewhere. They won’t attack if we’re surrounded by people. They’re not suicidal.” Surprisingly, Lucifer agrees.
“Take care of him,” he says as Castiel lets go of Lucifer’s hand and leans against Dean’s legs, looking up at them. Dean nods, and then the devil is gone. Lisa approaches with Ben and her niece, and Ben lets out an exclamation of surprise and joy, running over to hug Dean tightly.
“This is Molly,” Lisa introduces her niece, “Shall we?”
“Uh, yeah. I don’t—I don’t have my car,” he admits, frowning.
“It’s fine, I’ll drive. Come on, guys.”
“Dean,” Cas says, tugging on his jeans, and he squats down, “Can you carry me?”
“You tired, bud?” he asks softly, smiling. When Castiel nods, Dean laughs and scoops him up, and the little angel drops his head to his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck. “How about—” he begins as he heads toward Lisa where she’s waiting a few paces away, one arm holding Cas and the other hand rubbing over his back, “—when Sam picks us up, I’ll make him drive, and you can sleep in the back with me, okay?”
“Okay,” Castiel mumbles, sighing tiredly. Dean smiles as he catches up with Lisa, and they make their way through the gathering snow back to her car where they buckle the kids in back and then drive off in search of somewhere to eat. They end up somewhere Dean would usually avoid, but it’s not all windows like most diners, and so he feels a little safer. Lisa gets them a table while Dean bounces Cas on his hip lightly, the little angel curled against him. He massages one hand into his right shoulder, which Castiel makes quiet, content little noises at every once in a while.
When they sit, he leans against Dean, thumb in his mouth, and Dean wraps an arm around him, fingers tracing slow circles on the inside of his elbow while he looks through the menu. Castiel reads along with him, and Dean can feel Lisa’s eyes on them. When he looks up, she’s smiling. “Long day?” she says, nodding to Cas.
“A few long days,” Dean laughs humorlessly, “He didn’t sleep much last night.”
“When did it happen?”
“Yesterday.”
“Ah, I see. Ben, can you help Molly find something?”
“Dean,” Cas says, pointing at the menu.
“Sliders? You sure Jimmy isn’t still kicking around in there, kid,” he teases, and Cas actually smiles, looking up at him.
After they’ve ordered, Ben looks at Dean, who knows immediately what question is coming. “Is Cas your son, Dean?” he asks unsurely, and Dean smiles.
“He’s a friend of mine’s nephew. We’re just watching him for a few days.” He can see that Ben doesn’t buy it, but, thankfully, he accepts it.
“Are you still fighting monsters?” comes the next question.
“Ben,” Lisa hisses, grabbing his arm.
“It’s fine,” Dean shrugs it off, “Yeah, Ben, I am. Gotta keep the world safe for you and your mom.” He tries for a smile, and Lisa shakes Ben’s arm once, and he falls silent. The rest of dinner is a little better, and Ben chats up Castiel, who seems happy with the attention. Sam shoots Dean a text toward the end asking his location, and he uses the safe word, so Dean types him a quick text back before looking down at Castiel’s small, questioning voice. “What’s up?”
“I don’t know,” he says with a frown.
“Uh—okay, what do four-year-olds normally need?” he whispers, frowning, as well, and it occurs to him as they’re getting ready to leave and Lisa disappears off to the bathroom with Molly. “Dude,” he says, pausing as he helps Cas into his jacket, “Is your mojo wearing off?”
“What?”
“I mean, I know Jimmy’s daughter contained you that time, but will this body? Or maybe your mojo is just, like—I dunno. Maybe you’re more human because of the spell.”
“I have to pee,” Castiel decides, and Dean nods.
“Yeah, I figured. Come on, big guy.” Ben follows, and it’s not long before they’re outside again, and the Impala is waiting for them, Lucifer in the front seat with Sam. Lisa recognizes the car, and she stops in front of Ben as Castiel says goodbye to Ben. “Thank you for today, Lisa,” Dean says, and she just smiles and pulls him in for a hug.
“You’re always welcome, Dean. Don’t be a stranger. Take care of yourself.”
When she releases him, Dean nods, not trusting himself with words. She goes to pick up Molly, and Dean turns away. “Alright, Cas, let’s go.” He lifts Castiel into the backseat, but he doesn’t get in after him, instead tapping the seat until Sam turns. “Where’s his stuff?”
“Trunk.” Sam pops it, and Dean rummages around until he finds Bernard and a blanket. As they’re driving off, Dean positions himself against the door, dropping one foot on the floor and extending his other leg along the seat. Castiel curls up between his legs, hugging Bernard tight to him, and Dean wraps the blanket around him. He drops a kiss atop his messy hair before he relaxes against the seat and window, one hand rubbing slow circles in the little angel’s back. A half hour into their drive, Sam starts talking, “So, the witches are dealt with. They took one look at Lucifer and started to praise him. It was kind of hilarious, actually. Anyway, so then I came in, ganked one of them, and then all hell broke loose, of course. Didn’t take too long, plus, working with an angel means instant healing.”
“Only cos you’re his booty call,” Dean mutters from the back. Sam flips him off.
“So, Lisa?”
“Yeah, man, it was weird. I took Cas to the park, and she just showed up with Ben and her niece, Molly. We talked for a bit, they hung out, and then you called, so she offered to go to dinner with us. It was—nice, actually.”
“That’s good. How is Cas?”
“Four years old, Sam, how do you think he is? He’s more human every second, and he’s so exhausted. The poor kid’s been through Hell and back with all this shit.”
Sam frowns, and Dean can see it in the rearview mirror as he looks through to Castiel. “We thought the spell might reverse once the witches were dead, and we even tried to talk to one. I don’t know what we’re going to do, Dean.”
“Maybe it’ll just wear off.” Castiel makes a soft noise suddenly and rolls onto his stomach entirely, kneading one of his little fists against Dean’s stomach for a moment before he settles, burying his face in Dean’s t-shirt.
“He’s dreaming about you,” Lucifer says softly, and Dean and Sam look over at him. “I’ve kept my grace open to him,” he admits, shrugging, “I wanted to be aware in case anything happened. Since we don’t sleep, we don’t dream, but he is, and it’s about you.”
“Can you tell what?”
“Yes.”
“Well?”
“That’s personal.” Dean rolls his eyes, figures he should have expected that.
They drive through the night, and Dean is careful not to jostle Cas too much when he maneuvers out from under him and switches with Sam, who just sits next to the sleeping angel, one hand resting lightly against his side where he’s curled up on the seat. They drive through the next day, too; Dean goes on into the morning for the first few hours until they switch again, and he keeps himself awake playing games with Castiel. Lucifer joins in, and the last leg of the journey seems to fly by.
When they arrive at the next motel, Dean hoists Castiel onto his hip and goes to get a room, the little angel patting out a rhythm on Dean’s shoulder. Outside, Sam stretches before leaning against the Impala and looking over at Lucifer. “It’s not just going to wear off, is it?” he asks, and Lucifer shakes his head, “What’s going to happen?”
“He can’t survive like that. He’s going to die, Sam.”
“When?”
“A few weeks, maybe. It’s already starting. Dean said he was becoming more human. He’ll lose his grace entirely, and then his wings, and then he’ll die.”
“And you don’t know anything that will reverse it?”
“I wish I did. Sam, I could—I could ask Michael.”
“No, it’s fine,” Sam sighs, scrubbing a hand through his hair, “I don’t want to put you through that. We’ll figure something out.”
“A week.”
“What?”
“I’m giving you a week to figure something out, and then I’m going to Michael.”
Sam looks at him for a long moment before nodding. As Dean pushes back out of the office, Sam straightens. “Why do you care so much anyway?” he wonders aloud, and Lucifer doesn’t meet his eyes.
“Room 19B, on the left side,” Dean says, tossing Sam a key, “Cas is hungry, so we’re gonna grab lunch. I’ll bring you back something, yeah?” He’s already depositing Castiel in the passenger seat as he finishes talking, and Sam just nods when he stands. He gets their things out of the trunk while Dean slides behind the wheel, smiling at something Cas is saying.
Dean’s been in this town before, and he knows where they’re going for food before they even get in the car. Castiel watches the world zip by, pointing out different birds and telling Dean about them. When they pull in, he crawls across the seat after Dean, who hoists him onto his hip and carries him inside, where he folds his jacket on a stool at the long counter. Cas can actually reach now, and he smiles happily, spreading his little hands over the countertop and swinging his legs. “Hey there, cutie,” the waitress says as she comes over, beaming down at Cas, who blushes shyly. Her gaze flicks to Dean, and she brightens even more. “What can I get for you boys?”
“Coffee please. And a water for this one. No milkshakes in the morning, Cas,” he adds as the little angel looks up and opens his mouth. He orders a bacon cheeseburger and sliders, which puts the grin back on Cas’ face.
“What are we doing today, Dean?” he asks.
“I dunno. Got anything in mind?”
“Not a park. I don’t like those.”
“You seemed like you were having fun the other day.”
“I want to do something with you,” he practically whispers.
“Alright,” Dean says, smiling, “I think I have an idea. A human thing.”
“Okay,” he smiles, legs swinging again as their food approaches. They chat through lunch, discussing trivial things like the town, overalls, and birds again, steering clear of all angel and witch-related business. It’s light-hearted and easy, and it makes Dean smile more than he usually would. When they’re nearly done, Dean occasionally stealing Castiel’s friends, the little angel speaks up, “I watched a human childhood once, by my Father’s request, and it was strange. I couldn’t quite understand it.”
“Do angels grow up, or are you just created old?”
“We grow. This age, about four years, is generally how we are first created, though we grow much slower due to our wings and grace. They take very long to form.”
“Do you ever check up on that human you watched?”
“I don’t need to.” When Dean arches a curious eyebrow, Castiel smiles. “It was you, Dean.”
“What?” Dean stills in taking out his wallet, staring at Cas.
“My Father has always known, and he wanted me to know and care for you before Hell so that I would request to save you.”
“Request? Hold on, I thought you were chosen or something.”
“I was, though not on the night you died. I was chosen on the night you were born. I watched you grow and change, and when you fell to Hell, I went to Michael. He knew, of course. They all knew, the archangels, God’s mighty sons. I was high in my garrison, then, and Uriel allowed the angels under my command to join me in warring through Hell for forty years. I can still remember when I finally found you,” he trails off, smiling fondly.
Dean hesitates for a moment longer before paying and helping Castiel down. When they’re on the road again, he speaks, “Can you tell me about that? When you saved me? It’s the only thing I don’t remember.”
Cas shifts suddenly, and Dean looks down to find him relaxing against Dean’s side, right hand curling in his t-shirt. “When I found you, one of my wings had been badly injured. I’d fallen through this gaping hole, away from an ongoing battle, and you were on your knees, praying.”
“It was you,” Dean says softly, “That’s the last thing I remember before I saw the light—before I felt your hand on my shoulder.”
“That light was my grace,” Castiel confirms, “I took you from Hell, and it was like they knew, the demons. As soon as I found you, they stopped. They let you go. Sometimes I think it was Lucifer’s doing, an ancient order from long ago. I think he knew, just as Michael did. And then I healed you,” he adds softly, “I put you back together and left you in your grave.” Dean pulls into a parking lot as he says this, and he surprises Castiel by leaning down and pressing a kiss to his hair. He doesn’t say it, never has, but Cas knows, always has. “Where are we?” Castiel asks when they get out.
“Mini golf,” Dean says proudly, and Cas smiles. “C’mon, you’ll love it.”
And so, for the next two hours, they make their way slowly around the course. Dean asks about Castiel’s childhood, to which he tells him of interesting things, of Joshua and his fishes, of his close friendship with Balthazar, of Anna’s crush on him, of training and learning to be a fierce soldier, of cloud fights and other heavenly games, and of Lucifer and Gabriel, how they taught and loved him, how they sought him out as they hadn’t done since the first few generations of new angels, and how angry and hurt he’d been when Lucifer fell. Dean is shocked by this last bit, though he thinks back to when Lucifer healed Castiel’s wing, and he can see it.
When they finish and return their clubs, Cas stills Dean with a hand on his jeans. He looks up shyly, and Dean grins, kneeling. “Sick of walking?” he teases, pulling Cas toward him. He stands with him on his hip, and he makes his way over to a small, colorful building where they’re selling hot chocolate. He gets Cas a peppermint one with marshmallows bobbing on the top, and he grabs at it with a soft noise of joy. “Careful, it’s hot,” Dean warns when Castiel curls both hands around the cup. They head back to the Impala then, and Cas takes up residence at Dean’s side again, blowing on his hot chocolate.
Dean fishes out his phone to call Sam as they’re heading back, and his brother answers on the fourth ring. “Hey man, what’s up?”
“Dude, I’m sorry about no food, we went out.”
“Yeah, it’s okay, I figured. We, uh—we were preoccupied anyway.”
“Oh gross, I definitely do not want that image in my head.”
“Whatever. Are you heading back now?”
“Yeah, want me to grab you something?”
“If you wouldn’t mind. I’m starving, man.”
“Fucking disgusting,” Dean grumbles before hanging up, and Castiel chuckles softly.
“Want some?” he offers, holding up the cup.
“Sure thing, kid. Mm, thanks,” he murmurs after he takes a sip.
“Is it cool enough yet?”
“Might be still a little hot. Blow on it a little more, alright?”
“Okay, Dean.” He sounds nothing like Sam, but it’s the phrase that does it, and Dean blinks, frowning. He has to figure this out.
--
January 10, 2011.
Dean looks up at Sam’s laugh, and he grins himself, watching Lucifer fold his arms across his chest. “No,” he says, glaring viciously at Sam. “This is—child’s play,” he spits, and Sam just keeps on laughing, doubling over as tears stream down his face.
“Lucy!” Castiel calls from his place on the floor where Dean is helping him into a pair of shoes, “Wanna be on my team?”
Lucifer’s eyes widen as he swivels to look at the little angel, and Dean’s shoulders shake with laughter as Lucifer sighs. “Fine,” he grumbles, and Sam just chokes and tries to calm himself down. Dean throws a shoe at him, and his brother takes a deep breath, though he’s still smirking.
“Alright, be careful, they’re weird shoes,” Dean warns, pulling Cas to his feet. Cas stays by him while he laces his on, and they’re heading off toward their lane with Sam and Lucifer in tow. Sam enters their teams into the scoreboard, he and Dean against Lucifer and Castiel, but Cas still tugs on Dean’s hand and pulls him toward the bowling balls to help him.
“Lucy doesn’t know how,” he whispers as Dean helps him lift one of the balls.
Castiel curls his little arms around it, hugging it close to him, and he tries to take a few steps forward, but it’s too heavy, and he sighs, squatting down and dropping it onto the ground. Dean walks with him as he rolls it along, and he helps, per request, push it down the lane. However, as it starts to veer toward the gutter, it suddenly jerks away and sails straight forward.
Dean turns around at the same time that Sam snorts and Lucifer grins. “Dean!” Cas cries, and he turns back again. “There’s still some pins up,” he says, pointing, and Dean nods.
“You get three tries to get them all done. Go get another ball, alright?”
“I can do it by myself!” he exclaims, already hurrying over.
- “You’re really good with him,” he says, and Dean smiles.
“Yeah. I just hope we can figure out how to change him back.”
“We will. Don’t worry.” Two rolls later, Castiel clambers up the small step and drags Lucifer onto the lane, showing him how to bowl properly, to which Lucifer lets him, smiling softly the whole time. “I don’t get that, though,” Sam says in an undertone, nodding toward the two angels. Lucifer is currently kneeling down to Castiel’s level, watching the ball roll down the lane.
“Cas told me about when he was younger,” Dean murmurs back, “Said Gabriel and Lucifer used to seek out a couple angels of each generation, mentor them and such, but they stopped after a few generations, and then, out of nowhere, they found him, the last angel in creation. It makes sense, seeing them like that, knowing they have history.”
“He’s the last angel in creation?”
“Dude, seriously, that’s all you heard?”
“Whatever. Your boyfriend is little even without being miniature-sized.”
“He’s still who knows how many millennia older than me. And he’s not my boyfriend. God, you’re such a girl.”
“Fine. Angelfriend. Whatever.”
“Fuck you.”
“It’s your turn.” Sam effectively shoves him out of his seat, and Cas holds up his hand as high as he can on his way past, laughing when Dean high fives him. When Dean’s done, he takes Sam’s place while Castiel is in Lucifer’s lap, leaning back against his older brother and talking animatedly to anyone who will listen.
Dean amounts it to Castiel’s enthusiasm for why the day goes so well. After bowling, they find a diner to eat at, and then they’re on the road again, destined for Bobby’s. Castiel rides shotgun, his little legs curled under him, and he keeps himself preoccupied with a coloring book Sam picked up the day before, Bernard sitting next to him. Dean glances over at him every once in a while, a warm feeling settling in his chest at the sight.
He’s in his striped sweater today, but he’s pushed the sleeves up, his skin smooth and soft underneath. When they pause for gas or food, Dean has those arms looped lazily around his shoulders, Castiel’s head leaning against him while he carries him about. This is how it goes for a full day of driving until they’re stopping the next morning and Lucifer interrupts the flow.
“Sam, would you mind taking Castiel? I just want to have a word with Dean,” he says carefully, all smiles, and it sets everyone on edge immediately.
“Yeah,” Sam says slowly, “Sure. C’mon, Cas.” He lifts Castiel out of the car, and Dean loads the pump into the Impala as Lucifer crosses his arms and watches Sam and Cas walk away.
“He’s dying,” Lucifer says very softly after a few minutes of silence, and Dean looks down at his feet, jaw clenching. “You probably think it’s—cute, I guess, the way he likes to be carried, likes to be near you. It’s because his body is failing. He doesn’t have enough energy because his grace is leaving. He is going to fall—become mortal—and then he will die. He’s going to be in pain tonight.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Dean forces out, his voice shaking.
“Because I offered to go to my brother and ask for his assistance, and Sam refused.” Dean looks up to find Lucifer turning to him, his face hard. “I watched Castiel grow into a beautiful and strong angel,” he says, and Dean’s brows come together. Lucifer’s shoulder tremble with some unknowable, ancient power, and his voice is angry and biting. “I love him,” he continues, “I do not wish him harm, and being forced to sit back while he dies is not something I will allow much longer. I understand why Sam does not wish me to go to Michael. My brother and I—we are broken, Dean. Which is why, in two days time, I will go to Gabriel, and he will seek Michael, and we will fix our brother.”
Dean stares at him for a moment before finishing with the pump. When he’s done, Sam is paying at the counter and Lucifer is watching him. He closes up the car and nods. “Okay,” he says.
“Don’t tell Sam.”
“I wasn’t planning on it.”
“I cannot help Castiel in these coming days. He is dying, and it is not something I can heal by myself.”
“Will he—will he fall before you leave?”
“No.”
“Why don’t you just go now?”
“Because Sam asked me not to,” he sighs, “There is still mistrust and anger in him toward me. I will not jeopardize that.”
“I understand.”
“He needs you. Castiel. Don’t fail him.”
“Will you still be here?”
“Of course. I will do everything in my power to ease his pain, but,” he trails off, looking away, and Dean nods again.
“Everything all good?” Sam asks as he approaches.
“Yeah, we’re fine. Hey,” he adds when Cas reaches for him. He bends a knee, and the little angel quickly runs the rest of the way and buries his face in Dean’s chest. “You okay?”
“I have a headache,” he mumbles, and Dean’s heart tightens. He presses a kiss to Castiel’s hair before lifting him in his arms and going around to his side of the car. When they get back on the road, he abandons his coloring book and curls up against Dean with Bernard, his head resting on his thigh and his hand fisted in his jeans while Dean massages his skull with careful, soft fingers.
They stop that afternoon for a motel on Dean and Lucifer’s orders, and Sam doesn’t question it. After they’re all unloaded, though, Castiel slides off the bed and heads over to where his shoes are, plopping on the ground and slowly pulling them on. “Where are you going?” Dean asks with a smile, sighing when Cas doesn’t answer him, “You know, man, four-year-olds don’t generally find bars and get drunk.” Castiel rolls his eyes, and it’s so reminiscent of his older self that Dean laughs outright and goes to yank his boots on. “So, where to?”
“I wanna go to a park,” Cas finally says, sounding dejected, and Dean just laughs harder and opens the door.
“Park it is. Sammy, I’ll call before we get back, make sure you’re not—you know,” he waves a hand, scrunching up his face, and Sam just flips him off. They take the Impala because it’s chilly out, though, when they get to the park, Castiel holds tight to Dean’s hand, not letting him even veer remotely in the direction of the benches. “Dude, what the hell,” he grumbles, still smiling.
“There’s no one here, and even if there was, I don’t like playing with kids. Ben was nice, but other kids are weird.”
“I think you’re just weird, Cas,” he teases before hoisting the little angel up onto the swing. He goes around behind him, pulling back slightly and letting him swing forward. After Dean’s got him going, he gets on the one next to him and shows him how to pump his legs. Soon enough, they’re both swinging lazily and chatting.
“I spy… something black!” Castiel cries, legs springing out straight, and Dean smiles.
“Something black,” he repeats, looking around. He catches Cas looking over at his chest a few times, but he pretends he doesn’t notice, instead pointing out random black things around them until Castiel rolls his eyes and sighs, and Dean lifts the cord around his neck and says, “This?”
“I didn’t know you still wore it,” Castiel says quietly, and Dean nods.
“After you gave it back, I, uh—I threw it out, but you know Sam. I woke up one morning, and it was around my neck again. Weeks after the fact, of course, but yeah. I still wear it.”
“Good. It’s important to you,” Castiel says, firm, and then he squirms in his seat, “Dean, how do you make it stop?”
Dean smiles and slows himself before getting off and bringing Cas to a stop. “What now?” Cas rolls his shoulders, frowning, and Dean swallows, fear rising in him. “Everything good?”
“My back feels funny,” Castiel admits, reaching behind him, and Dean watches carefully, his whole body tense.
It happens a few moments later. Castiel blinks and stumbles forward, and then he’s screaming, knees buckling under him as his brown wings snap out, bleeding. “Dean!” he screams even as Dean drops down in front of him, afraid to touch him. “Dean!” he sobs, hands coming away red and sticky, and Dean makes up his mind, shrugging out of his jacket and dropping it to the ground. He reaches forward, ignoring Castiel’s cries as he forces the wings close to his body, before he drapes his jacket over his small, shaking frame and lifts him in his arms. “Dean,” he chokes into his chest, fisting his bloody hands in his shirt, “Dean, my wings.”
“I know, Cas, I know. It’s okay. We’re gonna make them all better, I promise.”
“Dean, don’t let them go away. I can’t lose them. Dean. Dean.”
“Sh, Cas.” He slides behind the wheel, not letting go of Castiel, and he drives with him in his lap, arm wound tightly around him, his name a slow chant the whole way back. Lucifer is already slamming out of the motel room when Dean pulls up and hurries out of the car.
“It’s starting,” he says, and Dean just nods.
Sam is yanking on a pair of jeans when they hurry in, but Dean barely notices him. “Take him,” he says, offering Castiel, and, when Lucifer is holding his little brother, he hurries into the bathroom, running the sink. He scrubs the blood off his arms before switching on the shower. “Hot or cold?” he yells.
“Hot,” Lucifer confirms as he makes his way over, depositing Dean’s soaked jacket on the bed.
“Shit,” he hears Sam swear before he’s dashing back out to the Impala to look in the trunk for anything that might happen.
“I’m going to help Sam,” Lucifer says, and Dean takes Cas from him, nodding.
The archangel leaves, and Dean sets Castiel on the toilet lid, hands shaking as he undoes his Converse. “Dean,” he mumbles, trembling and crying.
“Hey,” Dean says, his voice hard as he looks up, “You’re gonna be okay. I will not let anything happen to your wings, you hear?” Castiel nods, and then Dean gets back to work, dropping his shoes on the ground before reaching into his pocket where his knife is. He cuts open the sweater in various places, trying to avoid hurting his wings anymore, and then he kicks off his own boots, pulls off his button-up, and switches the water flow so it’ll fill for a bath.
“Dean,” Castiel whispers, and he turns immediately, squatting in front of him. He nods, and Cas continues, “Can I—” he breaks off, looking down as tears spill out of his eyes, and Dean forces himself not to cry, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Castiel’s forehead.
“Anything. What?”
“Your soul,” he whispers, and Dean nods.
“Yeah. Do you need to do that hand thing in my chest?”
“No,” he shakes his head, straightening and looking Dean in the eye, “I just—” he stops again, pointing to Dean’s shoulder.
“Okay.” He stands again, pulling his t-shirt off. He checks the water before turning back to Cas, “Ready?” When Castiel nods, Dean takes a deep breath, looks away, and then undoes his jeans, kicking them aside. There is nothing more he hates than wet denim. Cas sticks out his legs, and so Dean gets rid of his, as well, before he lifts the little angel in his arms, mindful of his wings, and he steps into the bath, lowering them both inside until Cas’ wings are completely submerged, and he’s clinging to Dean, shaking. “What do I do?”
“Just try to clean them,” Castiel says tiredly, and Dean nods, hands moving out to slowly card through his feathers, whole body tensed tight against Castiel’s soft noises of pain.
Sam and Lucifer return a minute later, a small jug of holy oil and water with them. “How’s he doing?” Sam asks, gaze flicking over the discarded clothes before moving to Dean and Castiel. Dean shakes his head, and Sam nods. “I’ll leave you guys,” he says after setting everything done and after a rather frightening look from Lucifer. The bathroom door closes behind him, and Lucifer waits a moment before kneeling beside the bath with the holy oil.
“Castiel,” he whispers, and the little angel looks up, “Heal your wings. I’ll clean them.”
Castiel nods, and Dean removes his hands, instead settling them around Cas, rubbing circles into his back where his wings don’t touch, and Castiel reaches up a tiny hand to settle over his handprint. Dean closes his eyes as Castiel whimpers and pushes his face against Dean’s chest, his other hand digging into Dean’s side. When he opens them again, it’s because the white light of his soul and Lucifer’s grace has dissipated. Castiel’s wings are soaked in holy oil, but they aren’t bleeding anymore.
“Stay in here with him until the water cools,” Lucifer says, catching Dean’s gaze, who nods. He moves to leave, but Dean catches his wrist, fingers dripping wet.
“Please,” he begs.
Lucifer blinks, looks to Castiel, and nods. “Tonight.”
--
Dean wakes up with a grunt, twitching backward. His arm is throbbing where he was hit, and he forces his eyes open just in time for another of Castiel’s little fists to go flying, and this one hits him in the chest. Even tiny, he’s still an angel, and he’s gonna have bruises.
He pushes himself up onto one elbow and reaches over, dodging another fist, and takes Cas’ shoulder in one hand, shaking him lightly. “Cas,” he whispers, “Hey, wake up, man.” He still doesn’t, face contorted in fear and pain, and Dean sits up, gets socked on the thigh, and then scoops Cas right out of bed, catching both his fists in one hand to still them, and folding him against his chest. “Castiel,” he murmurs against his ear, his other hand rubbing over his back, still sore from earlier, though his wings are pulled back inside him.
“D-D-Dean?” the little angel says brokenly, and he can already feel his hot tears staining his shirt.
“You’re okay, Cas,” he promises, kissing his forehead, “It was just a nightmare.”
“I don’t like sleeping,” he mumbles. His breath hitches, once, twice, and then he’s sobbing quietly into Dean’s chest, clutching to him desperately. Dean holds him tight, legs folded under him, and he tries to soothe him as best as he can. Regardless, he hears movement, and he looks up to see Lucifer peering over at him from beside Sam. He holds his gaze for a moment before sighing and pushing out of bed. He struggles into a pair of jeans one-handed before he grabs a key and his jacket and makes his way out of the motel room. Cas is only in one of his t-shirts, an AC/DC one, and he shivers against the cold, clinging tighter. Dean drapes the jacket around him, repositioning his arms so that they’re on the outside, and he walks Cas away from the motel, still rubbing his back.
It’s a while before he calms down, forehead pressed warmly against Dean’s neck and his thumb in his mouth, his breathing slow. Dean walks with him for a while longer before returning to the motel where he doesn’t sleep for the rest of the night.
In the morning, Lucifer is tense, and he watches Castiel from across the room until Dean stands. “Dude,” he says, waving to the archangel, “I’m gonna shower.” Lucifer hears what he doesn’t say, and he nods gratefully, going over to take Dean’s place on the bed when he disappears into the bathroom.
“Castiel,” he whispers, sitting next to his tiny, sleeping form. He reaches a hand forward tentatively to card his fingers through his hair, and he lets his grace settle over him, as well, soothing any frightened corners. “Little brother,” he murmurs, closing his eyes, “I’m sorry I left you.”
When he opens his eyes again, they’re glassy in a human way he doesn’t understand, and he looks to the bathroom door before looking back over to his still sleeping Sam. Castiel stirs under his fingers, turning toward him, Bernard the bear held closely to him, and Lucifer watches him for a moment longer before winding his arms underneath him and lifting him from the bed. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, looking to Sam again, and then he’s gone, a flutter of wings.
--
“Hurry,” Dean says as Sam pushes into the motel room.
They set up the ritual things as quickly as possible, though Sam snaps at Dean a few times when he nearly gets something wrong; he’d known Lucifer was going to Gabriel, but seeing Cas gone after he’d gotten back from the shower, that they hadn’t talked about, and every worst case scenario possible is going through his mind. “We don’t want to fuck anything up because we’re freaking out, Dean,” he reminds, but, eventually, he has to send Dean away while he finishes. They’ve already prayed to Lucifer and Castiel, and Dean even tried Gabriel while Sam tried Michael, but no one has answered, and so now they’ve turned to summoning them, which, of course, doesn’t work until they’re four gashes deep and chanting for Michael.
“Dean.”
Sam breaks off, looking up, eyes wide as saucers. “Castiel,” he gasps, and Dean’s head snaps up as well.
“Cas,” he nearly chokes.
He’s tall again, his voice gruff and low as always, and he’s still wearing Dean’s AC/DC shirt, though he’s managed to acquire a pair of jeans somewhere between disappearing and growing up again. Sam looks to his brother when the knife suddenly clatters to the table, and he grins as Dean closes the distance between them in two long strides. Castiel, surprisingly, is already reaching for him when their mouths meet, hands coming up to curl around Dean’s forearms as Dean holds his face, his jaw scratchy from stubble and firm, and it makes Dean’s knees weak because Cas, his Cas is back.
He kisses him hard and simple before he breaks away and presses their foreheads together. “I thought I was going to lose you, so many times,” he gasps, eyes still closed.
“I’m here,” Castiel murmurs, “I’m not going anywhere, not again. I promise.” He’s the one to start the kiss this time, nose rubbing along Dean’s before he touches his mouth curiously to Dean’s, who takes over, and licks into his mouth, kissing him long and slow this time, showing him everything he can’t say.
Finally, though, Sam passes by them toward the bathroom, and they separate. “Don’t bother, Sam,” Castiel calls to him, not breaking Dean’s gaze, even as he reaches forward and touches a finger to each of Dean’s arms, healing the wounds. When Sam steps out of the bathroom, Castiel nods to Dean and goes over to heal his brother. “Lucifer brought me to Gabriel,” he says when he’s done with Sam, “Michael met us there, and—honestly, I really don’t know what they did. I was, apparently, asleep for much of it, but it was—powerful. We were in a field, surrounded by trees, and—Dean, your gravesite was something, but this—I have never seen something of this magnitude.”
“It’s permanent, though, right?” Dean asks, and Cas nods, looking over to him again.
“Yes, it’s permanent. Both of you, I don’t know how to thank you. I would have been lost—dead—without you.”
“I’m gonna give you guys some time, okay?” Sam says, pulling on his jacket, “I’ll be back in a few hours, see if I can find Lucifer.”
“Thanks, Sammy.”
When the door closes, Dean catches Castiel’s gaze again, smiling. They don’t talk, but they don’t have to.