Work Text:
I’m Lovin’ Angels Instead
Dean had not been expecting to ever see Cas again. There had been a finality to their last goodbye that stuck with Dean for the months following their successful Chuck disposal. It was like Dorothy, leaving the technicolor of Oz and returning to the drab black and white world of Kansas. The little comfort he found in things that used to bring him joy; a sweet whiskey, Zeppelin on vinyl, cuddling with Miracle, pranking his brother… it all left him still feeling hollow, like there was a significant piece of himself missing.
It took Dean way too long to realize that piece was Cas. Soon, the hole gave way to regret, to guilt, for not being able to say those words back to Cas the day his love confession took him away from Dean. It wasn’t fair that he never got to tell him that Cas changed him too, made him see beauty in a world that had proven itself ugly and broken time and time again. Because of Cas, Dean’s views fundamentally changed from an us versus them, humans versus monsters mentality, to being able to see past fangs and wings. Ironically, an angel who struggled with emotions was the one to teach Dean what sympathy and empathy truly meant.
An angel taught him what real love was, and that realization coming months after he lost said angel to the Empty caused Dean to spiral. Hard. Maybe that was why he wasn’t really on his A game when Sammy dragged him to clean up after one of their Dad’s unfixed vamp cases. And why, of all the fucking things in the world to take out Dean Winchester, it was a rusty piece of rebar.
Or… it should have been. After Sammy finished snotting all over Dean, after he could physically feel his body begin to turn cold as the slow death started to make the world blurry and the pain numb, the door of that barn slammed open, just like it did in Illinois all those years ago, and the magnificent shadows of large, imposing wings were the first sight he saw.
Then in walked Cas, his trenchcoat billowing, his tie just as crooked as it always was, and Dean gasped, the metallic taste of blood on his tongue. Sam had stared up at Cas with wide eyes, that was until Cas gently pushed Sam aside.
Cas stood in front of Dean and shook his head. “Oh, Dean. This is not how your story ends.” That was when he carefully pulled Dean off of the metal that had pierced his heart, but nowhere near as hard or deep as the angel who was rescuing him had. Then Cas’s bright blue eyes lit up with the sheer power of his grace.
That was when the pain completely disappeared and Dean could fully breathe again. He patted at his chest in amazement at the lack of hole and rebar, and when he and Cas locked eyes, all Dean could murmur in that moment was, “Son of a bitch.” He yanked Cas in for a hug, and just held onto him for as long as the angel allowed.
Dean was unsure how much time had passed between them, but when they finally drew apart, he was about to ask how long Cas was staying.
Maybe with Cas’s clearly amped up mojo, he could read Dean’s mind, but either way, Cas flashed him a sad smile and said, “I must go back.”
Dean grabbed him by the wrist. “Back? To the Empty?”
“No,” Cas said, that time with a real smile, “Heaven. We are presently repairing all the damage years of poor leadership has caused.”
There was a new ache in Dean’s chest now, considering for the briefest of moments he had a damnable hope that maybe, just maybe, he and Cas were getting a second chance. “Will… you come back after?”
And that was when the smile ran away from Cas’s face. While he didn’t answer in any affirmative way, it felt affirmative when he said, “I am unsure, but… I will watch over you.” With that, Cas disappeared right before Dean’s eyes.
That had been almost two weeks ago, and Dean spent all his time since working on a plan to bring Cas back. Not with hoodoo, or curses, or spells, no… He had watched enough chick flicks in his life to know that if you wanted a happy ending, a real happy ending, then a grand, romantic gesture was what it was going to take.
Of course Sammy had been on board from the gate. He had fondly rolled his eyes and murmured a, “fucking finally,” under his breath when Dean told him about his plan. He had a few friends through Eileen who had the equipment Dean was going to need. The rest was scrounging up the money to ship said equipment to another country, and dealing with a friggin’ fifteen hour flight.
It took Dean a couple of days to get his sea legs back, or whatever, when they touched down on that tarmac. The flight had been borderline torture, but Dean kept reminding himself it was for Cas, so it was worth it. Finally, after jet-lag and post-flight trauma had eased up, he was ready. Dean and Sammy loaded all the equipment into a taxi, and made their way to the Arc de Triomphe.
The monument was breathtaking, even Dean had to admit that. A dedication to all the French war victories and the marker for the World War I Unknown Soldier, which felt particularly poignant. Their lives had been war after war, holy or not, and not a single person on this planet had any idea about the unknown angelic soldier who gave his life to literally save them all.
So, in the most romantic city in the world, Dean and Sam started setting up a large speaker, amp, keyboard, and microphone in the open circular space in front of the Arc. The keyboard was placed on a stand, and they ignored all the stares from tourists when Dean finally took a seat and tested out the keys. The speaker was doing its job and echoed with a beautiful tone throughout the open aired space.
With a deep breath, Dean leaned in to say into the mic, “You said you’re watching over me. I hope you can hear this, Cas.”
Dean began to play the song he had heard a month ago that instantly made him think of Cas. After Sammy gave him a dorky thumbs up, Dean smiled and started to sing as he played the music, “I sit and wait
Does an angel contemplate my fate?
And do they know the places where we go
When we're grey and old?”
A crowd started to form, some people were taking out their phones to film, while others were simply swaying to the soft, melodic beat.
“'Cause I have been told
That salvation lets their wings unfold
So when I'm lying in my bed
Thoughts running through my head
And I feel that love is dead
I'm loving angels instead…”
Dean looked to the sky as he continued the song, “And through it all he offers me protection
A lot of love and affection, whether I'm right or wrong
And down the waterfall, wherever it may take me
I know that life won't break me
When I come to call, he won't forsake me
I'm loving angels instead…”
When Dean had heard the song for the first time, all he could think about was Cas, how deeply it reflected how he felt about Cas, about his angel. Dean could feel the lyrics in his heart as he continued, “When I'm feeling weak
And my pain walks down a one way street
I look above
And I know I'll always be blessed with love
And as the feeling grows
He brings flesh to my bones
And when love is dead
I'm loving angels instead…”
To Dean’s surprise, quite a few people in the crowd began singing along. Apparently, this new artist Dean thought was just an indie, unknown guy, seemed to be pretty popular in Paris. Through a smile he kept going, “And through it all he offers me protection
A lot of love and affection, whether I'm right or wrong
And down the waterfall, wherever it may take me
I know that life won't break me
When I come to call, he won't forsake me
I'm loving angels instead…”
Soon there were couples slow-dancing around the Arc de Triomphe, and it caused an ache in his heart, his own wish on the tip of his tongue and the edge of his heart for the angel he would give everything to see again, to tell him what he meant to him. To slow dance with him under the Arc de Triomphe.
With a deep breath, Dean finished the song, “And through it all he offers me protection
A lot of love and affection, whether I'm right or wrong
And down the waterfall, wherever it may take me
I know that life won't break me
When I come to call, he won't forsake me
I'm loving angels instead…”
When he ended the song, the crowd of people surrounding them erupted into cheers and applause.
Dean flashed them a smile and as he moved to stand, that was when he froze at the sight before him.
Cas emerged from the crowd, determinedly walking toward Dean, still in that badass way of his coat flying outward with each movement.
He turned to look at his brother, who had an excited expression and nodded to Dean.
Instead of waiting for Cas to reach him, Dean knocked over the small piano bench as he practically ran toward the angel. It did not take long before Dean was wrapping his arms around Cas’s neck with a laugh.
The way Cas’s lips curled in a breathtaking smile was absolutely everything. “I heard your prayer, Dean.”
This was real, this was happening, and Dean was not about to let this moment, or his angel, disappear ever again. Dean carefully cupped Cas’s cheek and closed the gap between them, lips slotting together in perfect symmetry. Dean swallowed his angel’s gasp and succumbed to the tidal wave of warmth that submerged him. He was drowning, in sheer affection, in all the unspoken emotions, the unspoken love he spent way too long ignoring.
As the soft, sweet kiss quickly intensified, Cas clung to Dean’s jacket. Cas was insistent as their parted lips created an electricity that could have powered all of Paris. The tremors and trembling gave way to a pure, unadulterated bliss, and Dean’s head was swimmy with the giddiness of the realization that… He could find happiness again. He could have the life he always wanted. He could have all the love and affection he always denied himself.
He could love his angel instead.