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Awareness returned slowly and in stages for Dean Winchester. His brain woke first, stumbling to come back online after what felt like the deepest sleep he had in months. Strange. He had been having problems sleeping with all his recent stresses.
"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, Winchester," he silently admonished himself.
Not ready to open his eyes, he raised his arms above his head and felt the pleasurable pull of muscles stretching and pulling, pliant from sleep. As he felt his joints loosen, he figured it was time to open his eyes and face the day...not that he wanted to.
He was certain as soon as he opened his eyes there would be some catastrophe to deal with; more gambling debts of his father's he would have to scrape money together to pay. More disapproving looks from his little brother that Dean didn't stand up for himself more against their father. Sometimes it was all too much. Sometimes Dean just wanted to stay where he was now, at the bridge between sleep and wakefulness.
Sighing, Dean knew he couldn't indulge himself and hide away. He needed to put aside his selfish urges and man up.
Bringing his knuckles to his eyes to wipe away the last vestiges of sleep, he slowly opened his eyes, and blinked in confusion. Where was he? None of his surroundings were familiar. This was not his cramped room at his father's house. It was not the spare room at his friend Benny's. Where was he and how did he get here?
Sitting up slowly to take stock of the rest of his surroundings, Dean noticed it was a sizeable room, bigger than the entire downstairs at home. It was comfortable, bright, and well appointed. The ceiling was painted cream and beveled just slightly, making way for a low hanging chandelier lit with honey-scented candles.
The walls were painted a luxurious crimson and gold and there appeared to be replicas of priceless works of art on the wall. The area was stunning, just the right side of ostentatious. Looking to another corner of the room, he could see a small buffet table laden with beer and burgers (his favorites). This was no place that Dean could ever remember visiting before, but at the same time there was a vague sense of familiarity; it is like trying to grasp hold of a fading tendril of memory.
It was a beautiful room, but he does not remember how he got here and that makes his pulse start racing. His first thoughts were of his brother. Was Sammy safe? The older brother wracked his brain to remember if he had drunk too much the previous night, if someone might have roofied him while at a bar. He had absolutely no memory of how he got there.
“Hello, Dean,” a deep voice rumbled behind him.
Dean jumped up from the couch he had just been laying on in surprise and stared at the stranger before him. Surely even if Dean had been plastered he would have remembered a man as attractive as the one in front of him. The newcomer was stunning: A little shorter than Dean, but not by much. He had a messy shock of dark brown hair that almost looked black when the light reflected on it so. But, the most captivating thing to Dean was the eyes: The other man’s eyes were fathomless pools of the richest blue Dean had ever seen. He felt he could stare for hours into the other man’s eyes and never learn all his secrets.
Shaking himself from his inappropriate thoughts, Dean needed to return to the matter at hand.
“Who are you?” Dean demanded, fear making his voice overly harsh. “Where am I? Where is my brother? Is he okay?”
“Be at peace, Dean Winchester,” the other man replied, and Dean wondered how he could speak in such low tones. Dean’s throat ached in sympathy for the other man and wanted to offer him a beer to soothe what sounded like the scratchiest of throats.
Again, shaking himself from these thoughts, Dean tried to stay focus on his task: Finding out where he was and if his brother was safe.
“Don’t tell me to ‘be at peace,’” Dean snapped back, somewhat peevishly. “For all I know you are some psycho nut job who knocked me over the head and brought me here to sell me into some sort of sex slavery.”
The other man seemed to glide forward and didn’t stop until he was directly in Dean’s personal space. Dean felt he should move, to put some distance between himself and the other man, but found himself strangely rooted to the spot.
For several moments, neither man spoke any more, the stranger roved his piercing blue gaze over Dean’s face, seeming to memorize each dip and freckle of the young Winchester’s bone structure.
“You are a remarkable man, Dean Winchester,” the other man replied, after several moments. “You have withstood trials that would have made older men buckle and turn bitter, but you still retain an aura of innocence and purity. Your soul burns brighter than anyone else’s I have ever seen come to this place.”
Dean blinked and found himself both pleased and frightened by the other’s words. He had so little positive reinforcement in his life. To his father, he was a money-maker and usually a disappointment. To his brother, he was Daddy’s good little soldier who couldn’t think for himself. He rarely received pats on the back. He started providing for his family at thirteen, when he could first fake work papers for the next county to work at an auto body shop. From then, he tried to go to school, but after working a late shift, he barely had time to come home, make dinner, help Sammy with his homework, and clean the house before their father would stumble home. Then, he would spend hours cleaning their Dad up, treating the cuts and bruises that came from whatever pool hall hustle gone wrong or other drunken brawl. There was no time for Dean to do his own work, and he was so tired during the day, he often slept through class. It really was no wonder to him that his teachers gave up on him as a lost cause.
For this man, this stranger, to tell him he was good...something grew warm inside Dean and made him preen. That still didn’t answer any of his questions.
“You seem to know my name, but I don’t know yours,” Dean replied, trying to get his bearings. The twenty-one year old’s survival instincts still on high alert.
“Of course, my apologies,” the other man said, somewhat formally, but not backing away from his position in front of Dean. “I am Castiel. I am an Angel of the Lord.”
“Wh-wh-what?” Dean stuttered out. Of course. Fuck his luck. The first person who treats him with a modicum of decency has to be a complete lunatic. This is how Dean is going to go out, mutilated in some freak’s basement and then when the police finally find him, he’ll end up on one of those Dateline Mysteries his brother loves so much.
"There’s no such thing as angels,” Dean retorted, trying to keep his tone as even as possible. He didn’t want to betray his fear to the other man. Castiel (weird fucking name) might be shorter than him, but he looked to be lean and muscular underneath his awful suit and tie.
The other man sighed and backed away from Dean, causing Dean to oddly miss the other man’s intrusion into his personal space, even if he was a serial killer and maniac, it was nice to have someone that close without fear of immediate violence.
“This is your problem Dean,” the other man said sadly. “You have no faith.”
Suddenly the lights in the room seemed to flicker and Dean could see from behind Castiel two large appendages appearing.
“Holy shit!” his brain supplied, somewhat unnecessarily. “Those are wings! The dude has honest to God wings!”
Dean was speechless - something that rarely happened to him. He couldn’t make sense of what he saw, other than to believe the other man was what he said, an angel. Either that or he had one hell of a special effects kit set up somewhere nearby.
“And what does an angel want with someone like me?” Dean asked, voice cracking and sounding shaky.
“You are here to make a choice,” Castiel explained, as though this should be the most logical thing in the world.
“What kinda choice?” Dean asked, eyes narrowing and brow furrowing in his confusion.
“Whether to enter through those doors and cross into your Heaven, or to return to Earth,” the angel said bluntly, but not unkindly.
Dean felt panic spike through his body again. “Wait. What? I have to make a choice to return to Earth? Where the hell am I?”
The Angel frowned slightly at his charge, he did not understand why the young man was having such a difficult time coming to terms with this concept. Of course, Castiel wasn’t the most versed in social mores. This was the first time his brother, the archangel Michael, had given him his own charge to guide through this process. Perhaps he wasn’t doing something correctly.
“This is not Hell. You are in Heaven’s outer room,” Castiel tried again to explain. “This is the gateway between the realms. I believe your folklore refers to this as the ‘Pearly Gates.’”
Despite his confusion and fear, Dean had to chuckle when the Angel made air quotes around ‘Pearly Gates,” it was undeniably adorable.
“Okay,” Dean drawled, still trying to wrap his head around this situation. “So, I am in Heaven’s waiting room, but what am I doing here?”
Castiel sighed. Father help him, he didn’t realize humans could be so dense.
“Because you have to make a choice,” the Angel replied again, slowly, as though talking to a very young child.
Dean rolled his eyes in exasperation. Obviously the two of them weren’t getting anywhere; they just kept dancing around the same topic.
“How did I get here?” Dean tried again.
“You died,” Castiel said simply, as though this was stating the obvious.
Grateful the couch was still behind him, Dean flopped backward inelegantly. His mouth opened and closed as though the hinge wouldn’t quite work, but he couldn’t make words come out. It took several moments for him to be able to find his voice again.
“I died?” Dean squeaked.
Castiel cocked his head slightly to the side, gazing at the young man in confusion. He wondered if it was possible for brain damage to carry through into the in-between realms. Deciding the other man just needed to get used to the concept, the Angel decided to go with it and nodded his head.
“Yes, you died,” Castiel replied walking around the room, gathering food for his young charge. “Technically, the humans have you on artificial machines that are working to keep your organs working, but in reality you are dead. Burger?”
Dean’s head was spinning and couldn’t even process all the other was telling him. He put his head between his knees and closed his eyes tightly.
“This is all some fucked up dream,” Dean found himself muttering. “I must have taken too much cold medicine or something and my brain is having fun with me. All I have to do is open my eyes and I’ll be back in my own ratty bed.”
Raising his head and opening his eyes, he found himself locked in another staring contest with the blue-eyed angel.
“Are you unwell?” Castiel asked, something nearing concern marring his otherwise smooth face.
“Yes I’m unwell,” Dean roared shoving Castiel backward and beginning to stalk the room in his agitation. “Either you are complete nutcase who has locked me in their house with plans to torture me at some point; or, you truly are an Angel of the Lord - which I have never believed in - and I am on the precipice of death. It’s a lot to take in.”
Castiel stood, unmoving from his place, watching the human pace the room in fear and frustration. This man was fascinating to the Angel. In all of his existence, Castiel had observed many of his father’s creations and marveled at their ingenuity; but, none had intrigued him to the degree of Dean Winchester. Even though Castiel didn’t quite understand the man, he was enraptured by his aura.
“You had to expect something after the accident, did you not?” Castiel asked, confused as to Dean’s confusion.
That statement stopped Dean dead in his tracks. He spun on his heels to look directly at the other man.
“What accident?”
“Father help me!” Castiel said, throwing up his hands. “The accident you had that killed you.”
Dean paled slightly and didn’t look like this was something he was aware of.
“You don’t remember the accident?” Castiel asked, gentling his voice once he realized the source of the problem.
Dean shook his head wordlessly. He tried to piece back his last memories to see if he could determine if what the Angel was telling him was true. He just couldn’t remember. Was it possible to have amnesia in Heaven?
“Not amnesia,” Castiel said, obviously reading Dean’s thoughts, or at least able to interpret the other man’s distress. “It is rare, but I believe you have shielded your mind from the events leading up to your death.”
“What does that mean?” Dean asked, weariness seeping into his tone, eyes looking dull and lifeless. Castiel hated to see the change come over his young charge.
“It means the events leading up to your death were traumatic and painful and your brain is trying to shield you, even in Heaven,” Castiel shook his head in wonder as he came to sit down next to the other man. “It isn’t impossible, but very rare that a human has the capacity for this type of action in Heaven. You are a unique individual, Dean Winchester.”
Dean turned on the couch slightly, putting one leg on the cushions as a barrier between him and the Angel.
“So what am I supposed to do now?” Dean said softly, eyes downcast. In that moment, he looked like such a young child that Castiel felt a clench in his Grace - almost as though a portion of his very existence wanted to latch on to the younger man to comfort and protect. To tell him he is beautiful and worthy.
“I can show you what happened,” Castiel said, trying to keep his voice neutral. “Or, we can wait here and see if your memories come back of their own volition.”
“What happens if we wait?” Dean asked, curious. “If I would decide to go back, does waiting cause irreparable harm to my brain or my body?”
Castiel stretched out a hand and joined it with one of the young Winchester’s own.
“Nothing more will happen to your body, Dean,” he said fervently. “I swear it to you.”
Dean met Castiel’s gaze and sought unasked answered from their sapphire depths. Satisfied with whatever he saw, Dean nodded slowly, never extracting his hand from the Angel’s warm grip.
“We’ll wait and see what happens. In the meantime, did you mention burgers?”
Castiel felt a smile light up his own features at the childlike anticipation on his new friend’s face.
“Yes, from what I learned about you, I know they are one of your favorites,” he replied, standing smoothly to guide Dean to the buffet table.
There was every type of burger that Dean could imagine. Bacon burgers, plain burgers, mushroom burgers.
“Dude, I am gonna get so fat if I stay here too long,” Dean chuckled, feeling strangely content for the first time in years. Weird.
Castiel did that funny-cute head tilt thing of his again, causing Dean to laugh all the more, feeling a warmth extending through his heart and limbs.
“Dean, it is impossible for you to get fat here,” Castiel stated. “It is Heaven.”
“You mean to tell me I could eat every burger on this table and then some and not gain an ounce?” Dean asked, eyes sparkling again with mischief and joy.
The Angel found himself unable to verbally respond, but nodded. What was happening to him? There was a connection with this young man he had never experienced with anyone in his millenia of existence.
Castiel watched with pleasure as Dean quickly picked up two juicy bacon burgers and grabbed himself a bottle of beer. The young man’s eyes were full of happiness at such a simple prospect, it made Castiel feel that funny clutch of his Grace again.
“What about you, Cas?” Dean asked, as he settled himself down at the table, preparing to tuck in to his meal.
“Cas?” the angel asked in slight confusion.
A heated blush stained Dean’s cheeks, causing the young man’s freckles to stand out even more clearly and make his forest green eyes look all the more verdant.
“Sorry” Dean replied almost bashfully. “It’s a bad habit I have. I give my friends nicknames, sorta something that only I have with them. I shoulda asked before doing that to an Angel. Probably bad manners and such.”
Castiel smiled a warm, genuine smile at the other man.
“I like it,” the Angel replied. “None of my siblings have ever called me anything other than Castiel. It is different. I accept your nickname.”
Dean beamed a smile so brilliant that Castiel would have been breathless, if he actually needed to breathe.
“So, you never answered my question,” Dean replied, still looking up at the standing Angel.
“What question, Dean?” Castiel said, confusion coloring his tone.
“Are you going to join me or am I supposed to stuff myself with all these burgers alone?” Dean said, using his burger to motion to the mountain of food in front of him.
“I do not require sustenance, Dean,” Castiel said, somewhat sadly.
“Oh,” Dean’s face fell, somewhat disappointed he couldn’t share this feast with the other man.
Castiel picked up on the change in the other man and decided to give it a try.
“But, I supposed although I do not require sustenance, it would not hurt to try,” Castiel ventured.
The grin he got in return made his wings twitch behind him in happiness. This was very odd. First his Grace was reacting strangely around the young man, and now his wings were threatening to materialize against his command. He hadn’t heard of such reactions between humans and Angels.
Castiel sat across from his young charge and picked up a thick burger topped with melted cheese and bacon. The Angel sniffed the food curiously. It smelled appetizing. He wondered vaguely if he would be able to taste anything. His brother, Gabriel, often regaled him with tales of the delicacies on Earth, especially lollipops; but, to Castiel everything just tasted like...molecules. Perhaps it would be different sharing a meal in Heaven itself.
“Are you going to eat it or study it?” Dean asked, a teasing smirk on his lips.
The Angel glared at his pushy friend and proceeded to take his first bite. His teeth sunk through the layers of warmed bun, lettuce, onion, tomato, and cheese, before the first juices of the perfectly cooked meat hit his tongue. This was like nothing he ever tasted before, and he found himself making an unknown noise around his food.
After finishing the bite, he looked up to see Dean with a somewhat stunned expression on his face.
“What?” Castiel asked, concerned he had done something wrong.
“Nothing,” Dean said, shifting in his seat ever so slightly, as though he were uncomfortable. “So, was it worth giving it a try?”
“Oh yes,” Castiel replied, humming happily. “These make me very happy.”
Dean smiled back at his guardian. “I’m glad. They make me pretty happy, too.”
The two continued to eat in companionable silence, enjoying several burgers each, until finally Dean hit a limit.
“I think I could eat every burger on that table,” the green-eyed man said, patting his stomach contentedly. “But, I don’t think I would respect myself in the morning.”
“I don’t understand that reference,” Castiel said, trying to understand some of the phrases the younger man used in his speech.
Dean shook his head in fond exasperation.
“Oh young Padawan, you have much to learn,” Dean said, standing and walking back over to the couch.
“I have been in existence since the beginning of your planet Dean, I am hardly young. I am significantly older than you, for instance,” Castiel countered.
That statement caused the younger man to throw back his head as a full body laugh shook his frame. Castiel found himself enthralled by the beauty of his Father’s creation.
“It’s a reference to a movie, Cas,” Dean said patiently. “It’s from Star Wars. You’ve been around millions and years and you haven’t had a chance to catch any movies?”
Castiel settled himself on the couch next to the young man and shook his head slowly.
“No,” he repled. “I have not found time to spend on many social interactions. I find myself more enchanted with nature. I have a particular fondness for the bees.”
Dean turned to look at his Angel….his Angel? Huh, when had that happened?
“What’s so great about the bees?” he asked, curious.
“They are the most remarkable creatures,” Castiel began.
For the next twenty minutes, Dean found himself in rapt attention listening to his Angel detail why he watched the bees.
“Would you like to see?” Castiel concluded.
“See what?” Dean asked.
“The bees in the forest, of course,” Castiel said as though this were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Sure,” Dean said, wanting to share these new experiences with his friend.
Castiel rose gracefully and pulled Dean to his feet, their hands seemed to be intertwined most of the time, not that either of them noticed or minded.
The Angel led Dean toward one of the doors, and before he could put his hand of the handle, Dean had a moment of panic.
“Cas!” Dean said, fear coloring his tone, causing the Angel to freeze instantly. “What happens if I go through that door?”
“We go to see the bees,” Castiel replied, concerned his friend wasn’t keeping up with the conversation.
“No, I get that,” Dean said with an exasperated huff of laughter. “But, can we come back here? Or if I go through that door have I made my decision to go to Heaven.”
“Oh,” Castiel said, realization dawning. He had gotten so caught up in sharing this experience with his young charge that he hadn’t thought of that. “I’m sorry Dean. You are correct, if we go through that door, you would be making your decision to stay in Heaven.”
Castiel silently berated himself for his carelessness. It wasn’t like him to get so caught up in something to not consider the consequences. Perhaps this is why Michael had never given him a charge before now.
“It’s okay, Cas,” Dean said with a slight squeeze of their still joined fingers. “I’m just not ready to make a choice, yet. But, if we could come back here, I would’ve been more than happy to see your bees.”
The Angel smiled sadly at his friend. He almost had taken the choice away from the other man, how could he do that?
“Hey,” Dean said, drawing the other man’s cerulean gaze back to his own emerald one. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. You just got excited. Happens to the best of us. Hell, don’t get me started about my Baby, you’ll beg me to shut up.”
Castiel and Dean started walking back to the couch when the darker-haired being had to ask.
“Baby?” Castiel said with alarm. “Dean, are you certain you are feeling alright? There is no mention that you ever had any children.”
Again Castiel was treated to the vision of Dean’s gorgeous full-body laugh, although the Angel felt as though he were the butt of a joke.
“I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean said, sobering slightly when he saw the hurt look flit across the other’s face. “I forget that you take things very literally. My baby is my car.”
“Dean how could you give birth to a vehicle, that is not possible,” Castiel said, again concerned about the strain of the near-death experience on his friend.
“Naw, man,” Dean said, fondness coloring his tone. “I love my car as though she’s my baby. At the end of the day, she is just a car, but to me she’s something special. She’s the only truly good thing I’ve ever owned in my life.”
Castiel felt the sadness and loss pouring off the other man in waves, and before he could gain control, his wings were out - stretching toward this beautiful man to envelop him in safety.
The first touch of feathers against his skin was startling to Dean, but he quickly relaxed into the softness of the texture and felt more secure than he had in years.
“Thanks, Cas,” Dean said, acknowledging the comfort his guardian was providing.
The two sat there for what could have been minutes or hours, who could tell with how differently time flowed in Heaven.
“Alright,” Dean finally said, trying to regain control of his emotions. “Enough of this chick-flick moment. I’m sure you know a lot about me, Cas, from your heavenly spies; but, what about you?”
“What about me what?” Castiel countered, feeling a sense of loss now that Dean was no longer pressed tightly against his side. It was an odd feeling, and he didn’t like it.
“Tell me a little about you,” Dean said, focusing his attention fully on the Angel at his side. “I know you have at least one brother who likes lollipops, that I am your first charge, and that you like bees. Other than that, nada. I feel like our relationship has been pretty one-sided so far, don’tcha think?”
Something within Castiel preened at Dean’s use of the word ‘relationship;’ something he couldn’t identify. It also was flattering that a being with such a pure soul would be interested in knowing more about a lowly Seraph.
“There’s not much to tell,” Castiel said, feeling what humans must consider shy.
“Sure there is,” Dean said, expression eager as a child on Christmas morning. “What are you interested in? What did you want to be when you grew up?”
“Dean I didn’t have to grow up, Angels know from our fledgling states that we are going to be Angels,” Castiel explained.
The younger man rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “It’s a figure of speech, dude.”
“Ah,” the blue-eyed Angel said, beginning to understand. “I was being too literal again.”
“Exactly,” Dean said with a pleased smirk.
“I just wanted to be an Angel,” Castiel said, uncertain of how to explain himself to this man. “I wanted to be able to help people, to ease their pain, and provide guidance when they needed.”
“Sorta like a doctor or healer?” Dean asked.
“I suppose that would be the closest human equivalent,” Castiel acknowledged with a smile, feeling as though the other man understood him to some degree. “I was happy to ease pain where I could.”
“That sounds like a very noble cause,” Dean said, a hint of pride lacing his tone.
“Not noble,” Castiel replied. “It is what we were created to be.”
“How’s come you never had a charge before me?” Dean asked. “You seem down with the whole sharing and caring thing; I would’ve thought this would be old news to you by now….not that I’m unhappy that I’m your first.”
Castiel noticed a faint blush spread across freckled cheeks at Dean’s statement, causing the Grace inside the Angel to stir wildly again. He quickly tamped it down, keeping himself in check.
“We are assigned charges when we are ready,” Castiel explained. “It is a mysterious process that I myself do not understand. My brother, Michael, who is the oldest, is responsible for assigning charges. He says he can tell when an Angel is ready and he works to pair them with a compatible charge, so it is a beneficial relationship for both.”
Dean leaned over swiftly and pressed soft lips to Castiel’s dry ones in a brief, chaste kiss.
“I’m glad you’ve been here for me,” the younger man said, shyly.
“And I as well, Dean,” Castiel said, lips still tingling from the brief contact.
“So, is this what you always look like?” Dean said, clearing his throat and trying to alleviate some of the new tension in the room. He had no idea what possessed him to do that? Why did he kiss the other being? Why would an Angel want a lowly human defiling him with a kiss? Stupid Dean, really stupid.
“Look like what?” Castiel replied, brain still addled from surprise at Dean’s kiss.
“A holy tax accountant,” Dean retorted, gesturing to Castiel’s attire. “I mean you are pretty formally dressed with the suit and tie and that God-awful trench coat.”
“My Father had nothing to do with the coat,” Castiel began before catching the mirth in Dean’s expression. “Right, too literal again.”
Dean nodded happily at the other man. “So...this is you on a daily basis?”
“No,” Castiel said with a shake of his head. “When Angels appear to humans, we usually alter our form into something more appeasing to your limited perceptions.”
“Hey, I’m not limited, you're limited,” Dean protested with a mock-grumble.
Castiel smiled indulgently. “Of course you are. If you would hear my real voice, most likely your eardrums would burst. For you to see my true form - which is taller than your Chrysler building - your eyes would burn out of your skull into black ash.”
“Well that sounds...unpleasant,” Dean replied, swallowing nervously. “Thanks for not doing any of that stuff.”
“Of course, Dean,” Castiel said with a warm grin. “I find that I care about you.”
“Yeah, I care a lot about you, too, Cas,” Dean said. “It’s kinda strange. I’ve only known you for a brief while, but I feel I’ve known you my whole life. My mama always told me, before she died, that angels were watching over me. After she died I started thinking that was a load of crap, but maybe she was right.”
Castiel was stunned by Dean’s revelation. He already knew the young man was not keen on revealing his true feelings, for him to be this open and honest was further solidification of the profound bond developing between the two of them. The Angel felt his Grace drawing ever closer to the other man’s soul, and for once, he didn’t want to hold it back.
The two sat in companionable silence, hands inexorably joined, and sharing small caresses between each other.
Some time later, Dean let out a contented sigh and turned toward his Guardian and decided he had to get some answers.
“So, um, Cas,” Dean began, somewhat nervous. “I guess I have to ask some tough questions.”
Castiel immediately felt on guard, he felt as though something were changing in their relationship. He only had Dean for such a short time, he wasn’t ready to relinquish the young man, but he knew he would give Dean whatever he asked.
“How long have I been here?”
“Time flows differently in Heaven,” Castiel replied, slowly. “In our time, you have been here for about two days.”
“How long has that been on Earth?”
“Almost three weeks,” Castiel admitted, somewhat embarrassed.
“Huh? Wow!” Dean said, trying to process that. He wondered if his family was worried about him.
“Have you remembered any of how you came to be here?” Castiel prodded gently.
Dean shook his head. The Angel could tell the other man was frustrated with his inability to recall such a simple thing.
“Would you like me to show you?” Castiel asked, gently placing a finger under Dean’s chin to raise the other man’s gaze to hold his own.
“Not really,” Dean admitted. “But, I guess I need to know so that I am able to make a decision.”
Castiel nodded, hesitant to show the young man such troubling images, but respected his friend’s decision.
“Are you ready?” the Angel asked softly.
“As I’ll ever be,” Dean replied, stubbornly setting his jaw.
Castiel gently placed two fingers to the youth’s forehead and images suddenly flooded back to Dean.
His Dad stumbling back from yet another bad night of gambling.
His Dad telling him Dean needed to give him $5,000 so he wouldn’t have the bookies come after him.
Dean yelling at his Dad that he needed help.
Dad smacking Dean into the wall.
Sammy running into the room - yelling at their Dad to leave Dean alone.
Dad storming out of the house to stay with his girlfriend.
Sammy yelling at Dean that he needed to stand up for himself.
Sammy telling Dean he was leaving, he already got accepted to Stanford on a scholarship and he was going.
Dean feeling alone, hurt, betrayed.
Dean jumping into the Impala and throwing the car into reverse.
Tears streaming down Dean’s face as he thought about Sam’s words and his Dad’s disappointment.
A deer jumping across the road just in front of the Impala.
Dean hitting the brakes and his tires slipping on a patch of black ice.
Avoiding the deer, but sliding off the embankment and rolling down a steep cliff, stopped only by a large boulder.
Pain...nothing.
Castiel.
Castiel removed his finger from Dean’s forehead, his crystal blue eyes, liquid with sorrow at what his friend had to relive .
Dean sat in stunned silence. He almost wished he wouldn’t have asked Castiel to show him this. He wanted to stand up to find privacy to fall apart away from his Angel. He didn’t want Castiel to see him in his weakness.
“You aren’t weak,” Castiel said, wrapping his arms around the young man. “You are the strongest person I have ever known.”
Dean gave a watery laugh, a ghost of his previous mirth.
“I’m the only person you’ve ever known,” he corrected easily.
“No,” Castiel countered. “You are my first charge. I have known many people throughout history. I have never met anyone like you. You are remarkable.”
“Thanks, Cas,” the other man replied, running a hand roughly through his honeyed-brown hair. “Not sure I agree with you, but I ‘ppreciate it.”
“You think so little of yourself,” Castiel said, anger coloring his tone. “You are worth so much, but others have convinced you that is not the case. You are worthy of love and affection. You are worthy of everything.”
Dean looked up with red-rimmed eyes, unshed tears causing his eyes to sparkle like priceless gems. Castiel could not contain himself, he reached across the couch and pressed his lips to Dean’s, more firmly than when Dean had done the same to him earlier.
The younger man gasped in surprise at the feel of the Angel’s dry lips pressed against his. However, he only hesitated for a moment before he was pressing back. Nipping at his Angel’s bottom lip, and sneaking his tongue out shyly to gain entrance to the other man’s mouth.
Castiel had never experienced any like this in his entire existence. He felt as though every portion of his Grace was lit up with a newfound energy, as though he had found a piece of himself he never knew was missing.
As he found himself using his superior strength to maneuver Dean backward, he couldn’t break away from the intimate contact between their lips and tongues. They explored one another, tasting, biting, licking, learning each other’s tastes. Electricity sparked between the two of them, and Castiel felt an equal energy thrumming beneath Dean’s skin.
This type of reaction was not typical in angels, Castiel knew, moaning into Dean’s mouth as the younger man ran his hands under Castiel’s white dress shirt, exploring the play of skin and muscles of Castiel’s vessel. In fact, the only time the Angel had heard of anything like this was with...mates?
That thought caused Castiel to pause. Mate? Is it possible that Dean could be his mate? Is that why Michael chose this assignment for him?
“You okay, Cas?” Dean asked, somewhat breathlessly from under him. Castiel looked down and felt his Grace stutter again. Dean looked gorgeous spread out beneath him, eyes heavy lidded and irises blown black with desire. His normally plump lips were swollen almost obscenely with the force of their kisses.
Castiel had to swallow back a groan as he nodded at the young man.
“Yes, Dean,” he replied. “I’m fine.”
“Oh, okay,” Dean said, sounding uncertain. “I kinda thought we were heading toward something. Did I rush? Misread?”
“No Dean,” Castiel said, leaning down to press another brief kiss to his mate’s lips. “Before we go any further, I don’t want to do anything you will regret.”
Castiel’s Grace hurt at the look of confusion on Dean’s face.
“You still need to make a choice, Dean,” Castiel said, pushing himself off the young man and giving them some much needed distance to talk reasonably. “You need to choose Heaven or home.”
Dean forced himself back to a seated position. His hair was disheveled from where Castiel had raked his fingers through during their intense makeout session. He was the most beautiful thing Castiel had ever seen and the Angel found himself physically holding back from ravishing the younger man.
“I don’t know what to do, man,” Dean said, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I feel more with you than I have in years. Do you know how long it has been since I have received so much as a hug from someone?”
Castiel shook his head, not wanting to know the answer, not wanting to know how much his charge had been hurt.
“Years,” Dean replied. “Probably not since my Mama.”
The Angel was going to look through Dean’s memories to see if that was accurate, but stopped when he saw the sadness on the other man’s face.
“And now, here I am, a gorgeous Angel of all things interested in me, and I wanna stay,” Dean said, tears again shimmering in his eyes. “But, part of me thinks that they need me.”
“This decision needs to be yours and yours alone, Dean,” Castiel replied. “You need to do what’s best for you, not for me, not for your family.”
Dean snorted derisively. “I haven’t made a decision for me in seventeen years.”
“Then maybe it’s time you start,” the Angel countered.
Dean rose from the couch and began pacing and rubbing his hand absently at the back of his neck - both gestures Castiel had learned the other man did when he was stressed or nervous.
“Do they care?” Dean asked, exhaustion showing in every line of his being.
“Who?” Castiel asked, trying to play innocent.
“My family?” Dean replied, ignoring his Guardian’s ploy. “Do they even care that I am not around?”
Castiel closed his eyes and focuses on the Winchesters. John Winchester was at the Roadhouse, his favorite bar, while Sam was sitting by his brother’s bedside keeping vigil.
“Your father is not present, but your brother is with you,” Castiel replied honestly. “He is asking you to forgive him and to come back. He doesn’t want you to leave him alone.”
Dean’s knees buckled and Castiel was beside him in an instant. The young Winchester couldn’t contain himself, sobs were wracking his frame as all his emotions broke over him in torrents.
“I don’t know what to do, Cas,” he sobbed, brokenly. “I don’t want to leave you, but I’m all that Sammy has. If I’m not around who will look after the kid?”
Castiel didn’t have an answer, so he just continued to hold his mate and stroke his hair in soothing motions. He found himself humming a tune that Gabriel had hummed to the fledglings when he was younger.
After a while, Dean’s sobs subsided and the young man was wrung out and hiccuping in his Angel’s arms.
Looking up at the darker haired man, Dean placed his hand to the side of Castiel’s face trying to memorize every last line.
“I know we haven’t known each other long,” Dean said, trying to keep his tears in check. “But, I will love you the rest of my life.”
“And I, you, for the rest of my existence,” Castiel replied earnestly.
“I hafta go back,” Dean said, throat threatening to close against the rising tears. “I can’t leave Sammy alone with him.”
Castiel smiled sadly and placed a chaste kiss to the center of Dean’s forehead. He wanted to beg his love to stay with him, to convince him that Sam would be fine without him; that Sam didn’t appreciate how much his older brother had sacrificed for him. In the end, the Angel couldn’t bring himself to say any of those thoughts, they would only make Dean resent his Angel and regret his choice.
“You are a noble and self-sacrificing man, Dean Winchester,” Castiel replied, feeling a foreign sensation of moisture pooling in the corners of his eyes.. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Cas,” Dean said, pressing a final kiss to the Angel’s lips.
“Go with my Father’s blessing, my love,” the Angel said, sadly.
******
Awareness returned slowly and in stages for Dean Winchester. His brain woke first, stumbling to come back online. He felt like he had been swathed in cotton, making it difficult for him to make sense of his surroundings.
The first thing he noticed was pain, sharp and almost blinding throughout most of his body. There wasn’t an inch of him that didn’t have some type of pain. Yeah, that was going to be loads of fun to deal with.
Next he noticed the rhythmic beeping of machines, which he quickly realized sounded like they belonged in a hospital - monitoring vital statistics, perhaps.
Finally he noticed a low voice talking just beside his right ear. The voice was pitched low, hoarse, thick with emotions, and clogged with tears. That was his brother’s voice. He would know his Sammy anywhere. His brother’s voice sounded so sad, broken. It pained Dean to hear his brother hurting and he wanted to do something to help him.
With a Herculean effort, Dean reached out with his hand and clumsily groped for and found his brother’s hand, giving it the faintest of squeezes.
“Dean!” Sam breathed, almost as though he were afraid to hope.
Wanting to banish the demons from his brother’s thoughts, Dean struggled to open his eyes, and found himself staring straight into his brother’s reddened hazel eyes and tear streaked face.
“You’re awake!” Sam said in awe.
Dean tried to grunt out a response but couldn’t due to an obstruction in his throat. He felt something splitting his throat open, causing him difficulty in breathing and he started to panic.
Thrashing in his bed, Dean tried to grasp the obstruction to remove it.
“Calm down, Dean,” Sam pleaded with his older brother, while frantically pushing the white call button for medical assistance. “You are going to hurt yourself.”
Dean heard what his brother was saying, but he couldn’t quite understand. What was happening to him, where was he?
“Shhh, Dean, relax,” Sam soothed as two nurses and a doctor on call bounded into the room. “You’re gonna be okay, big brother, I promise.”
Sam had to move away from the bed while the medical staff removed the ventilator from Dean’s throat - the machine that ostensibly had been keeping the older Winchester alive for almost four weeks. Sam found himself overwhelmed. He knew his brother was a fighter, but everything had looked so bleak, he thought he might actually have to say goodbye to Dean. Sam never wanted to give up hope, but he came close.
The doctor on call performed a brief examination and then motioned for Sam to meet with him in the hallway.
“Well, Mr. Winchester,” the doctor said solemnly. “I will definitely inform his attending physician that he is awake; he should be down later today to re-evaluate your brother’s condition.
“However, from what I can see, he is awake, a little groggy, but seems to be aware of his surroundings and responded well to our initial tests. I never thought I would see someone as badly injured as your brother pull through, but he might just defy all the odds.”
Choking back tears of happiness, Sam hurriedly thanked the young resident and pushed his way back into the room. What a difference a few minutes makes.
Dean was still far too pale and too thin for Sam’s liking, but his brother had been in a major accident and unconscious for four weeks, what did he expect?
“Dean?” Sam whispered, not wanting to disturb his brother if he was resting.
“S’mmy?” came the slurred response.
The older brother turned his head and Sam came face to face with the sharp green eyes he had grown up looking at, dulled somewhat by pain and medication, but that was his brother fighting all the way through.
“Hey big brother,” Sam responded, a few tears spilling down his cheeks.
“Leaking,” Dean mumbled, shakily raising a hand to wipe the salty tracks from his brother’s face, just as he had done since Sam was a baby.
“Yeah,” Sam said with a watery chuckle. “That happens when you have a stupid fight with your brother and he storms off in a snowstorm in a muscle car and slides into a ditch and has been touch and go for four weeks.”
“‘orry,” Dean says, somewhat contritely.
“Naw man,” Sam says, grabbing his brother’s hand and holding on for all he’s worth - this has been Sam’s life life for the past few weeks, and he’s not ready to let go, yet. “I should be the one apologizing.”
Dean tried to shake his head, but he was cut off by his brother - damn annoying brothers.
“Stop,’ Sam said firmly. “I’ve had a lotta time to think these past few weeks; haven’t done much but think. I know I was angry, but I said some really stupid shit, stuff I don’t mean and have never meant.”
“Sam,” Dean tried to interrupt, feeling more clear-headed as each moment passed.
“I know I will have to say this again to you when you aren’t quite so drug addled, but I’ve been waiting a long time to say this, and I have to say it now. You’re my big brother and I love you, and there is nothing that I wouldn’t do for you.
“I have never been so scared in all my life as when I got the call from the state police asking for John Winchester because his car had been found totalled and a Dean Winchester was on his way to the emergency room in critical condition. I thought my world stopped.
“You scared the shit out of me. For four weeks, I have been here. Your heart stopped twice and you had to be wheeled back into surgery three separate times. Some of the doctors wanted to take you off the ventilator, they didn’t think you would pull through. They don’t know what a stubborn bastard you can be.”
“Bitch,” Dean croaked out.
“Jerk,” Sam immediately retorted, fondly. He reached by Dean’s bedside for the cup of ice chips the nurses left to ease the dryness of his brother’s parched throat.
“Dad?” Dean asked, after the last cooling threads of ice trickled down his raw throat. His pulling at the ventilator before the doctor removed it didn’t help his condition.
Sam’s face tightened in anger and Dean worried this was going to start a fight.
“He’s at the Roadhouse,” was Sam’s angry reply.
Dean nodded, what else was there to say.
“Sorry,” Sam said, collapsing back in on himself, and lowering his head to Dean’s bed for a moment to compose himself. “He hasn’t really been here that much. Bobby and Ellen have been cussing him up a silver streak, but he hasn’t changed. We’re actually going to stay with Bobby and Ellen for a few weeks when you get outta here, just until you’re back on your feet.”
Again, Dean couldn’t think of anything to say, but to nod.
“I’m so glad you are back, Dean,” Sam said with warm sincerity in his voice and tears shimmering in his eyes again. “When I thought I could lose you, my whole world stopped. I’ve been looking up to you since I was four, Dean, and there is no one I would want watching my back other than you. So, you don’t get to go anywhere, not yet, not ever.”
“I know, Sammy,” Dean said, tears evident in his own eyes.
“As long as you don’t mind, now that you’re out of immediate danger, I’m gonna run home get cleaned up, crash for an hour or two, and get some grub. I’ll be back later. Is that okay?”
“Of course,” Dean replied, wanting to give his brother time to adjust to the new circumstances. It also would give Dean a little chance to grieve properly.
Once Dean fully came back to consciousness, he remembered everything. He remembered the fight, the accident, the beautiful room, the even more beautiful Angel he fell in love with and had to leave. Part of Dean wondered if it was a dream, a trick of his mind; but, he dismissed that, it felt too real. He came back to his body and begin to heal, but he forever left a part of himself in that other place.
Feeling sorry for himself, Dean tries to turn to get into a more comfortable position, and he feels sharp pains radiated through his arms and legs. He hisses at the pain, but welcomes it, too, at least that means he has feeling in all his extremities.
Situated in his new position, he recalls how happy he was just to sit and talk with Castiel. How much he wanted to have a chance to see the bees. He wonders, perversely, if one of the times his heart stopped was when he was on the precipice of going with Castiel to see the bees. He remembered the electric warmth and love that radiated through him when they kissed.
Thumping his head back against the pillow, Dean chastised himself. It was a foolish dream. Really and truly, what would an angel want with someone like him...a high school dropout with a couple of bucks to his name.
“What’s the matter, Dean Winchester?” a familiar gravel-rough voice rumbled from his open doorway. “You don’t think you deserved to be loved?”
Dean pushes himself into a sitting position quicker than he thought possible, ignoring the myriad of pains lancing through his body. He has to be hallucinating. However, with all the pain present, he thinks that probably isn’t possible.
There is Castiel, his Castiel standing in the doorway dressed in a doctor’s crisp white coat, with a black stethoscope wrapped around his neck.
“Wh-what?” Dean manages to sputter out, somewhat intelligibly.
“I am Dr. Castiel Novak,” the other man replies, a fond smirk gracing his handsome features. “Your attending physician.”
Dean’s brain tries rapidly to keep up with this situation and the only thing he can determine is that his whole time with the Angel Castiel had been a dream. His drug-addled brain must have seen the handsome doctor at some point of consciousness and woven a story around him. In some ways that made losing his Angel a little easier - it is always easier to lose something you never had. However, it also made him sad to know the connection he felt with the other being never existed after all.
The raven-haired doctor pushes out of the doorway and firmly closes the door behind him before approaching his patient’s bedside.
“How are you feeling, Dean?” he asked, voice rich with concern.
“A little pain, but nothing too bad, I guess,” Dean responds, and it’s true; the physical pain he’s experiencing is nothing compared to the pang of loss in his chest.
The young doctor surprises Dean by perching on the edge of his bed and taking one of Dean’s hands firmly, but gently, in his own. Dean thinks he must be imagining it, but there is a familiar thrum of electricity pulsing through him where their hands are joined that reminds him of the other Cas.
“Do not think you were the only one to feel our connection, Dean Winchester,” Dr. Novak, no Castiel, murmurs to him. “I have never felt for another being what I feel for you. You are my own, my mate, my Beloved.”
Dean feels tears gathering in his eyes, he is not sure what to believe. Is he hallucinating? Did he die? Is he still dreaming?
“Cas…” the only word he is able to push out through his still-damaged throat.
“Shhhh, love,” Castiel croons, using his free hand to stroke through the matted strands of Dean’s hair. “It’s alright, I’m here, and we can be together, if you want to be.”
“I don’t understand,” Dean said, wincing at the whine in his voice that made him sound like a spoiled young child.
“After you made your decision, I didn’t know what to do,” Castiel admitted softly, never loosening his grip on Dean’s hand, and never ceasing his slow strokes through Dean’s hair. “I felt at a loss and I went to confront my brother about it.
“I asked Michael if he paired me with you because he wanted me to fail. I have never seen my cocky older brother look so sad as when I hurled those words at him. Michael assured me he never wanted me to fail, he wanted me to find.”
“Find what?” Dean asked, not patient enough to wait for the story.
Castiel smiled indulgently at his love. “You.”
“Me?” Dean squeaked.
“Our Father was a romantic at heart. He believed that every being, whether Angelic or human should have a mate, someone who was perfectly designed to fit within their lives - like two pieces of a puzzle that would snap and fit together in seemless harmony.”
“Like a soul mate?” Dean asked, still feeling a little confused. What could he have to do with this?
“Exactly,” Castiel beamed and Dean felt dizzy with the emotions coursing through his body at that moment.
“So, what’s this have to do with me?” Dean asked, still uncertain where this was going. “Am I supposed to help you find your mate?”
“No, my Beloved one,” Castiel said, leaning down so his forehead was touching Dean’s and they were sharing each breath with one another. “You, Dean Winchester, are my soul mate.”
Dean would have laughed at the absurdity of that, there was no way someone as broken as he could be soul mate to a pure and angelic creature.
“Ah, but you are,” Castiel assured him. “You may have stumbled and had some difficult times along the way, but your soul is bright and pure as that of any angel. I think I knew from the moment I saw you that we were destined to be together. If I didn’t know it, my Grace certainly did, it wanted to reach out and latch on to you from the first moment.”
Blushing slightly, Dean closed the small distance between his and Castiel’s lips and they shared a brief, loving kiss.
“But how are you here?” Dean asked, still feeling he was missing something. Horror suddenly flooded Dean’s eyes and his skin paled.
“Dean? What is it? What’s wrong?” Castiel demanded, checking his mate over for additional injuries, but sensing his distress immediately.
“You didn’t?” Dean asked, breathless and dreading.
“Didn’t what, love?”
“Cas, tell me you didn’t give up being an angel to be with me?” Dean asked fervently. “I wouldn’t want you to do that.”
“No, no, my love,” Castiel soothed. “I am still Castiel, Angel of Thursday. I have all my powers. After Michael explained everything to me, he granted me permission to have an extended leave of absence from my garrison, and my Heavenly duties.
As Dean and Castiel talked and touched, Dean learned angel mojo goes a long way to forging medical degrees and credentials and making those around you believe they have known you for years.
“I still don’t understand,” Dean asked, leaning comfortably against his Angel’s side, basking in the love he felt. “Why would you do all this? I’m not worth all that.”
For a moment, Dean saw pure anger flash through Castiel’s stormy blue eyes, but the emotion passed as quickly as a summer squall, leaving only joy and devotion.
“You are worth any sacrifice and more,” Castiel said, stroking his hand softly down Dean’s bruised cheek. “Michael has allowed me to remain a full angel; however on Earth my powers are more muted, so as not to draw undue attention to myself.
“Furthermore, this vessel will age, according to normal human standards, just as you will. I may be older than you, but I will not leave this Earth before it is your time. When you do go on to your Heaven, I will follow soon behind and spend my eternity with you.”
“It’s too much,” Dean said, overwhelmed. There were too many emotions swirling in him at once.
“Do you not want to spend the rest of your existence on Earth with me?” Castiel asked. Dean couldn’t miss the sadness in the other man’s eyes. “I thought you felt our bond as much as I did.”
“Of course I love you, you big dork,” Dean cried, not even ashamed at not being able to hold it back. “I just don’t deserve this. I don’t want you to give up so much for me and get nothing in return.”
“Every day I spend with you is a blessing from my Father,” Castiel assured the other man, raining gentle kisses over his face. “I would give up an entire garrison for you. I would rebel against heaven itself for you. You are the other half of my soul, it is no sacrifice for me to be with you. Heaven will be fine without me; heaven can wait. I don’t want to wait for you any more.”
Dean saw the truth radiating in his Angel’s eyes and sealed their bond with his next kiss, giving himself over to his Angel with his whole soul and readily accepting a portion of the Angel’s Grace in return.
******
When they married six months later, no one was really surprised. They told their friends and family they fell in love in the hospital; it was true, in a sense.
John Winchester balked at his son’s news. He refused to accept that any child of his would be in a homosexual relationship. He never did come to their wedding. Dean felt a pang of regret at that, he would have liked his father to share in his joy; but, it wasn’t enough to overshadow his happiness with his mate.
Sam did leave to go to Stanford, but he never lost touch with his brother. There were visits and loving phone calls, and when Sam walked down the aisle himself six years later to marry his college sweetheart, Jessica, Dean was his best man, and Castiel was at his husband’s side for support throughout the day.
Dean and Castiel Winchester lived a happy seventy-one years as husband and husband until Dean knew it was time to go home.
He turned over one morning and looked into the still clear blue eyes of the Angel he loved and whispered, “It’s time for us to go home, Heaven has waited long enough.”