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bobwess · 2 years

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May I offer you another fanfic?

[In this trying time? One-shot. Finale fix-it. SPN. Deancas.] (D'yer Ma'ker also on Ao3)

(It got a polishing before it went on ao3: this is copied from my fanfiction net account so there may be slight editing errors or repetition.)

Sam had been walking past Dean's room when he heard the phone ring. He considered letting it go to voicemail, but Dean wouldn't be back from a breakfast run for another half hour, and if they knew Dean's number, someone could really be hurt.

The younger hunter froze when he heard the voice on the other end. "Cas?"

"Sam…"

"How-?"

"Jack brought me back." There was a pause that sounded like Cas was struggling to describe whatever just happened. "I still don't… I'm a bit more than an hour away. I wanted to let you know-"

"No, Cas." Sam said firmly, feeling a wave of concern. "Don't… not uh… not here."

The angel on the other line went notably quiet.

Sam closed his eyes. "I mean… let me come out and meet you. Where are you exactly?"

"Fairbury."

"Nebraska?"

"Yes."

"I'll come to you. Open the phone book and meet me at the first motel on the list."

Cas paused again, but finally he let out his breath. "Alright."

Sam pulled up outside a bland motel with a sign that looked like it hadn't been touched since the fifties. He clocked the familiar tan coat right away, and he picked up the pace. He grabbed a bag from the back of the car and took a deep breath to ground himself. It didn't help.

Sam only began to relax half way through testing him. Silver, holy water, borax. He kept at it until he was running down every test he'd ever heard of, including several he'd only recently read about in Men of Letters texts.

Cas was quiet during each step, obeying each request with an expression that reflected understanding for the scrutiny.

Sam looked at him warily. "Your grace…"

Cas nodded, pulling enough grace that his eyes reflected a soft blue instead of the glowing red Sam was worried about.

The younger hunter let out a breath, his shoulders sagging in relief. "Sorry, man."

"How long has it been?" Cas brushed it off.

"Almost two and a half months." He sat down on the chair opposite him. "We didn't think you were coming back." Sam frowned. "At first we thought maybe Jack would bring you back, but he didn't answer our prayers and… well, we sort of thought that was it."

"It took him some time to figure out how to get in there."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, okay."

Cas considered his next question for a moment, not sure what answer he wanted to hear. "Dean didn't want to-"

"I didn't tell him." Sam cut in. "I left a note saying I was going out for a bit."

Cas gave a short nod. "You didn't want to tell him before you knew it was me."

"He just barely has started to come to terms with it." Sam admitted softly. "I couldn't undo that if…"

"If I wasn't me."

Sam nodded.

Cas bowed his head. "I have to talk to him."

"Yeah." Sam said softly. "Let me break the news to him first."

Cas studied him for a moment. "Alright."

It was after midnight by the time they reached Lebanon.

Cas looked up at the decaying factory looming overhead as Sam pulled to a stop in front of their recessed entrance. He felt something in him stir before he swiftly clamped down on it, trying to focus on the facts.

He was home.

His resolve immediately wavered. Was he home? He left Dean with his last confession… the chances they could go back to the way things were felt slim. He didn't think Dean would ask him to leave; Dean would feel too guilty. It would be up to him to determine if it was uncomfortable enough he should go anyway.

Cas shoved it down again. No use speculating. It was time to just see what happened. He followed Sam down the cement steps and through the heavy metal door. He closed his eyes, feeling the sound reverberate through the map room and library, the sound so familiar it almost hurt. He hadn't realized how much he ached for this. To be here again. To come back.

He must've hesitated just too long, and Sam caught on. "He's not here."

Cas looked at him.

"He's, in his words, bar hopping and looking for chicks."

"Oh."

Sam rolled his eyes. "He has the impala parked about a mile into the woods." He started down the stairs ahead of Cas. " It's, what, 2am? If he hasn't drank himself unconscious by now, he will shortly."

"He-"

"Every night for a month now."

Cas shut his mouth, taking in that new information. He felt a small shudder down his spine as he tried to sort it through. "I see." He settled at last.

"Come on. Make yourself at home." Sam threw him a sheepish glance. "I am going to head to sleep if that's alright. It's been a long night, and I'd like to be back from my run in time to talk to Dean."

"Of course." Cas said easily.

"Alright." Sam stopped, giving Cas one last long look. "I'm glad you're back." He said. "Good night."

After Sam left, Cas stood for a moment, completely unsure of where to go or what to do. It felt almost made up, as if this was perhaps just another torture, another illusion dreamed up by the empty. But he knew it wasn't. The empty could only show him sins of his past, and this definitely didn't happen before.

He stopped in the library, eyes finding the table almost immediately. He took a step forward, following the new additions to Sam and Dean's name carved into the wood. He felt his chest clench, and for a moment he was horrified with the strength of the emotions that came from seeing it.

It felt like something, something he couldn't put a word to.

He decided to leave it for a time he was better equipped to deal with that.

It was by instinct that he found his way to the room Dean had dubbed his. He had initially thought it was silly, Dean giving a room to him when he was an angel. Deep down he knew Dean was compensating for throwing him out when he was newly human. He had forgiven Dean for that a long time ago, but he knew that would not slow Dean's insistence on torturing himself. Thus, he accepted the room without argument.

Inside was still mostly bare. There was a thin layer of dust that confirmed no one had been inside in weeks, but still it was clear that someone had been in at some point after he had died.

The bed was pristinely made; In fact the whole room was neater than he left it.

Hung carefully over the chair was a green jacket with a rusted bloody handprint on the shoulder. On the desk was a straw hat, and a mixtape with a hand written label. Tucked underneath was a photograph Dean had forced Sam to take.

"Texas Rangers." Dean had said, clearly beyond pleased that they had been mistaken for such. "Come on, Cas. Give us your best blue steel." He hadn't known what Dean meant, but he did his best to mimic his expression, and it must have done alright because Dean seemed pleased with the result.

Cas recognized that this was the type of memorial that Dean might put together in lieu of a headstone. He ran his hand over the sleeve of the jacket, vaguely remembering grabbing Dean's shoulder and pushing him from danger. He hadn't noticed the mark he was leaving behind.

His expression settled into a sad smile. The irony of his first and last contact mimicking so closely was not lost on him. The symmetry was almost poetic, though he supposed it was somewhat spoiled by his return. He knew Dean wouldn't think of it that way.

He retreated once more, deciding to walk the halls and reacquaint himself with this place he hoped he might still call home.

Dean sprang awake, jumping upright so fast he caught his side on the steering wheel, causing a sharp bite of pain to shudder up his ribs. He hissed before taking a minute to try to slow his breathing to a more reasonable pace. He scrubbed his hand over his face, trying to blur the memory of the dream.

He took a final shaky breath before straightening up on the bench. He looked around, trying to find a landmark, something to focus him. The steel walls of the car felt like they were getting closer, crushing in on him.

Dean decided to take advantage of the adrenaline rush to find his way back home. He wasn't sober, but was guilty to admit head driven in worse shape before.

When he saw Sam's car outside he pulled around into the garage. Walking inside, he considered briefly going to his room and trying to get a few more hours of restless sleep, but decided against it. He was still too wound up from his rough awakening. He instead turned and headed towards the kitchen on auto-pilot.

The gentle hum of the industrial fridge somehow felt oppressive. He considered not for the first time that he should really invest in a pair of headphones that could play nice with his phone. Sure, they wouldn't be as good as the ones for his laptop, but honestly the silence was killing him.

During the day he could fill his time. Talking with Sam, occasionally taking a case. But there were too many moments with too much room for thinking. That wasn't good for him. Or at least not when he was in a mood like this.

It took a moment to realize he was staring into the fridge, the cold seeping out sending a shiver up his spine. He vaguely looked down, noticing for the first time that he had left without a jacket; No wonder he had felt cold in the impala. October was bringing the first whispers of cold.

Right. Still staring into the fridge. Moving on auto-pilot Dean began piling things on the counter. He turned on the stove, staring at the flame for a second before he remembered to grab a pan and put it down to heat up.

He felt like he was swimming. Like his body was moving on its own. He was just a passenger, drifting with the tide.

And apparently making breakfast.

He set a carton of eggs on the counter.

Normally he wouldn't be doing this until a more reasonable hour of morning. Though, he reasoned, normally he wouldn't have stumbled back in until almost seven. He usually timed it to try and get back while Sam was out on his morning run.

Maybe this was better. If he hurried, maybe he could eat and be done before Sam ever woke up. Catch a few more hours of… well, probably not sleep, but he could lay down on his bed with his headphones on and block out the world for a bit. Then he could emerge and they'd start their day. Maybe he'd look for a case. Maybe he'd try to find something else to do. Maybe Sam would be up to a day outside the bunker.

No, he remembered. Sam had plans to go to Eileen's for a few days. Fine. Case it is.

Dean had been taking more cases on his own. With Sam backing up Eileen, he didn't feel he had a choice. Sometimes he told Sam before he left, other times he'd call with an update from the road. Sometimes he'd never tell him at all. He was aware it probably wasn't the best practice, but he really couldn't stop himself.

He looked at the pan, and then at the stove, frowning as he realized the pan was way too hot. He sighed, turning down the heat, resigning himself to the fact that he'd have to wait for it to cool again before he could add the eggs. Waiting again. Yeah, maybe I'll buy some headphones tomorrow.

Cas was so far lost inside his thoughts he was surprised to have completely missed hearing the obvious signs that Dean had returned. He was entirely unprepared to turn the corner of the kitchen and find himself within feet of the hunter.

Dean's back was turned to him, and he froze, with no idea what to do.

"What the hell are you doing up so early?" Dean asked, assuming the figure behind him was his brother. "Nevermind. You want eggs?"

Cas opened his mouth but he had no idea what to say.

"Just gonna stand there and-" Dean turned, green eyes meeting blue, and a deafening shock split through him, as a fresh wave of adrenaline took hold again. He moved back, bumping the stove, hissing as his arm swung back and into the searing hot pan.

"Dean-" Cas said, acting on instinct and reaching out a gentle hand. He had just grazed Dean's arm with the intention of healing him when Dean wrenched out of Cas' touch, quickly rounding the kitchen counter, keeping it between them.

Dean reached back for a gun, coming up empty, and cursing his stupidity for ever leaving the bunker unarmed. He acted on instinct, grabbing a knife from the butcher's block and holding it at the ready. "You're not here." He accused, so quietly Cas wouldn't have picked it up without his angelic hearing..

"Jack brough-"

"No." Dean cut him off. His voice betrayed a bone deep exhaustion, but it was firm. "Jack brought everyone back months ago. Not you."

"It took him time."

"Bullshit."

Sam had been readying to head out on his morning jog a bit early when he heard the voices. "Shit." He had been hoping he'd have more time before Dean was home… he needed to break the news himself. Too late now. He hurried his step, walking in just as Dean tightened his hand on the knife, gauging whether or not to use it.

The air felt fragile, and he took care to walk into the room slowly. "Dean, put down the knife."

Dean didn't move, keeping his gaze directly at Cas.

Sam put his hands up slightly, trying to diffuse some of the tension. "It's him. I've run him through every test we know how to do."

"No, Sam. It's just Lucifer." Dean closed his eyes. "It's just a dream."

Sam's face scrunched. "No Dean, it's not."

"It always is." Dean waited. Every night he has the nightmare. He gets the call and goes running. He's on a case and he sees him. A hundred variations on getting Cas back, and it's always Lucifer.

"Not this time." Sam shook his head. "It's him."

No one moved, the blanket of silence punctuated only by the gas flame of the stove and the old fridge.

Both Cas and Sam flinched when Dean threw the knife onto the metal table, the sound feeling as loud as a gunshot after the extended quiet. "No." He repeated firmly. "It's not." Ignoring Sam's repeated pleas to stay, Dean turned on heel and left.

Sam watched him go, debating on whether or not to follow him, but he didn't really think it would help any. Dean needed to calm down, and maybe sober up before it would do any good to try to explain. Feeling suddenly exhausted, he made sure to switch off the stove before sinking down at the table.

"He's just…" Sam struggled to find a way to word it. "He's covering for how freaked he is."

Cas stared at the door, feeling an almost unbearable wave of disappointment. He blinked a few times, watching Sam sit and deciding to sit across from him.

"Dean has been pretty messed up." Sam looked over at him. "A couple of days after you…after you two faced Death, Lucifer got into the bunker. He called Dean's phone using your voice, asking to be let inside."

Cas closed his eyes. "Jack neglected to mention that in his summary of events."

"I think it's going to take a bit of time to really believe it's you." He sighed, taking a moment. "Cas, whatever happened down there. He couldn't get past it."

"Did he-"

"No, he never talked about it." Sam confirmed, guessing where the question was going. "And it's not my business, but Dean's barely had a handle on it." He shook his head. "He's covering now… and that's good. It's progress. Right after… well. I was worried about him." He gave a short humorless laugh. "Who am I kidding, I'm still worried about him. He's grinding. Case after case, without me most times."

"Alone?"

Sam nodded. "And when he's here… He calls your name sometimes, when he's dreaming. He won't talk about them but…" He sighed. "We didn't think you were coming back. After the phone call. After Jack brought everyone back but you. We really didn't think you were coming back."

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have to tell me that."

"I'll tell him too."

Dean didn't allow himself to process a single thought between the kitchen and the exit. It was only after the bunker's main door clang shut behind him that he realized he had no idea where he was going.

With the impala in the garage, he didn't have a real course of action. He could hot-wire Sam's car, but he didn't really know where to go. He stumbled slightly, balancing himself against the cool concrete for a second. Still drunk. Also a reason not to steal Sam's ride.

He shivered slightly, realizing he had still failed to grab his coat. Oh well. It's not like you can do anything now.

Nothing made sense.

It was Lucifer. It was always Lucifer. That never changed. He never got away before it happened. He had never made it outside, to be greeted with the painful lack of wildlife sounds, to feel the uncomfortable cold against his bare arms.

It was always Lucifer.

But this time it wasn't.

Deep down he felt something give. This time it wasn't. It happened too differently. It felt too real. He ran his fingers over his arm. His blistered skin barely registered over the sheer panic he felt coursing through his body. He could hear his blood pounding in his ears.

Jack brought him back. It took him time.

No. He thought. It isn't true.

But it was.

Cas was back.

Static filled his head, that looping thought the only one that stuck.

Cas was back.

He didn't know what to do with that. He couldn't do anything with that. It couldn't be. Impossible. Never going to happen.

It's real.

Sam decided to forgo his morning run, wanting to be there to run interference whenever Dean finally decided to come back inside. Once changed, he settled into the library to listen for his brother's return. It didn't come.

So he read. And read. Occasionally he'd glance up at the entrance, waiting as if staring at the door would will it to open. But it didn't.

At half past two, Sam glanced at his watch, frowning, feeling a small twinge of concern, followed quickly by a swiftly settling dread. His car. He acknowledged for the first time there was a high possibility his brother wasn't there at all.

Sam pulled himself to his feet, trying to force himself to be casual, setting aside the book and stretching. He fought to keep his pace slow and steady as he traced Dean's path out of the bunker, stepping into the chilled mid-afternoon air. He blinked a few times, the sun somewhat blinding. He looked around, squinting against the light reflected back against the lingering dampness from the morning frost, making the ground almost glitter. His gaze finally found his brother.

Dean had clearly broken into his car, but he hadn't gone anywhere. Instead both rear doors were wide open, and Dean was laid across the bench seat on his back. His legs were crossed, feet hanging out the other side, and his head rested in the door frame closest to him. He was staring up at the car roof. "Dude… you're letting bugs in." Sam muttered before he could help himself.

"Too cold. Not many bugs." Dean said absently, shifting slightly to try and wrap his arms a little closer to his chest.

Sam sighed, walking up and leaning against the closed driver door. He resigned himself to quietly waiting for Dean to say something.

"You're sure it's him?"

"Completely."

Dean closed his eyes, a hand coming up to push back his hair and rest on his head. He took a slightly unsteady breath, letting it out slow. He didn't open his eyes. "How?"

Sam scuffed the dirt with his shoe, resting his heel against a small rock. "He says Jack got him out. That it took him a long time to figure out how to get in."

"Mmh." Dean took another slow breath, trying to pull his head back from the weird detached static that had yet to fade. Sam repeating Cas' earlier words didn't make it feel any more real.

"I really did everything. It's really him."

"I know." Dean heaved himself upright, swinging his legs around to face Sam, sitting on the edge of the seat. He had finally come to terms with it. "Don't know what to do about that."

"You could try talking to him."

"Yeah." But Dean's tone made it seem unlikely he would seek out doing so.

"You want to talk about it?"

"No."

Sam pushed himself off the side of the car. "Alright. Well. Close the doors when you head back in."

"Mmhmm." Dean frowned. "Thanks. For checking him."

"Yeah."

Dean let his thoughts wander again as he listened to the door to the bunker swing shut again.

His hope of avoiding Cas for the time being evaporated the second he pushed open the door to his room.

There, standing in the middle of the room, was Cas. Looking exactly the same as the day he left.

"Dean." He sounded a little unsure, clearly second guessing his decision to meet Dean there.

"Cas." He was unable to put any tone into the word, body completely still, standing in the doorway.

"I thought we should talk."

"You thought wrong." Dean forced himself to move despite his brain screaming at him to not. He walked over to his desk, sitting down at the desk and hoping Cas took the hint. He opened his laptop, pulling up the article he was reading before and tried to be convincing that he was reading it.

Cas didn't leave. "Dean-"

"I said you thought wrong." Dean repeated, firmer this time, and with an edge.

Cas hesitated, staring at the back of his head. "I'm sorry."

The hunter stood so suddenly Cas almost jumped. "I had nothing, you asshole. The empty came and took you, and I didn't even have a body to burn." He clenched his fist. "All I had was my coat with your god damn hand print on it. And I-" he broke off.

"Dean…" Cas said softly, reaching out.

Dean flinched, dodging his touch. He took a moment to breathe, trying to hold on, trying to keep that barrier up, to deflect, dodge, run. He could do none of it.

Dean's shoulders slumped, and he instantly felt so defeated. He couldn't look at Cas when he spoke again, instead keeping his eyes intently on the floor. "It didn't feel real… I… every other time, when we didn't have a body, you… you always came back. When Lucifer… the second time he… I. After Jack was born. When we burned you, it felt real. This time… I don't know, I let myself hope." He shifted his gaze to the wall. "It was worse. The hope. When it finally faded."

"I'm sorry."

"Fuck you."

Cas closed his eyes.

The fire returned. "Fuck you, and your sorry. Fuck you for every single time you died." He resumed pacing. "Fuck you for every time you left. Fuck you for every time you lied to my face." He rounded on the angel. "Fuck you for dumping that on me and then just letting it take you."

"I never meant-"

"Go to hell." Dean spat.

Cas gave a small sad smile, attempting to breathe some scrap of humor into the situation. "Again?"

Dean wasn't phased, and his cold glare never wavered. "You kept it from me."

"Which part?"

The hunter reacted violently, swiping across his desk and dumping everything to the floor, bottles and lamp breaking on impact. "Everything." He kicked the last intact beer bottle into the wall with enough force that it too shattered. "You knew about your deal for over a year." He came to a stop in the middle of the room. "I forgave the kid, whatever. Jack was just doing whatever you said to do."

"I didn't think-"

"Yeah, you never do."

"I didn't think it would ever come to claim me." Cas finished.

Dean stared at him, expression set.

"True happiness should be inaccessible to an angel." He said softly, trying to make Dean understand. "I could feel it… but I knew… I thought I knew that it would never be enough to claim me when you couldn't-"

"When I couldn't what, Cas?"

"You know what." Cas' quiet words were such a contrast to the harshness in Dean's tone.

"And what about me? Hmm? You were so busy thinking about yourself you didn't think once about me."

Cas looked startled by the accusation. "Dean… of course I thought about you… that's why-"

"That's why you kept it from me."

"You couldn't do anything to get me out of that deal. I wouldn't have let you risk Jack's life like that."

"Not the deal." Dean hissed through clenched teeth.

"Oh." Cas said softly, realizing he meant what he had confessed. He was quiet for a moment. "I never intended to tell you. I am sorry that I had to in such a way."

"You didn't think I deserved to know; Didn't think I deserved to figure out what to do with that?"

"There was nothing you had to do." Cas said softly.

"I deserved to make the choice."

"Dean-"

"I killed myself. Did you know that?"

Cas' eyes widened with confused concern. "What?"

"The last time you died, after Jack was born." His flat tone didn't soften. "I killed myself on a case, and I asked Billie to keep me dead."

The angel was silent, looking at Dean with an unreadable expression.

"So don't tell me how the fuck I feel."

Cas opened his mouth, but he wasn't sure what to say. The room closed in on them, the silence almost smothering.

"Whatever. I need some damn air." Dean said quickly, turning and starting towards the door again, this time planning on heading towards the garage. He needed to put some distance between himself and the bunker. A few states ought to do it.

"Dean…" Cas put his hand on Dean's shoulder.

Dean whipped around, fist flying and hitting Cas square in the jaw. Cas hardly flinched and Dean had to suppress a reaction to the shooting pain in his knuckles. "You left." He repeated, raising his hands and roughly shoving Cas.

The angel stepped back, eyeing him carefully, guilt washing over him again as he watched Dean come undone.

The hunter couldn't help the warmth growing in his face, the moisture he could feel collect at the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill over.

"I'm sorry." Cas said again quietly.

The tears fell. "I love you."

Cas' brows furrowed. "You-"

He was cut off as Dean stepped forward, roughly grabbing him and dragging him into a desperate embrace. The kind that always followed when Cas came back from the dead. But this time didn't end in an awkward pat on the back and a hasty retreat. This time the hunter hung on for dear life, as if worried Cas would disappear the moment he let go.

Tentatively Cas raised his arms, wrapping them around Dean's back. He let the side of his face lean against Dean's head, his mind settling into a dizzying static as he failed to process what was happening.

"You were gone so fast." Dean whispered, not pulling away. "I didn't get to say it." He tightened his grip. "I never knew you-" his voice broke. "I didn't think you-"

"I have loved you for a very long time."

"You're an asshole." Dean breathed, feeling another hot flash of anger jolt through him, but he couldn't step back.

Cas pulled his hand up and cupped it at the base of Dean's head. He gave themselves just enough space for Dean to look up at him before he pressed their lips together. He tensed slightly, waiting for Dean to realize, to pull away, to take it back at any second. He greedily tried to memorize every detail. The curve of his mouth, the hot flush across his cheeks, the taste of the salt from his tears.

Dean broke the kiss, but instead of moving away, he just put his head down to lean on the angel's shoulder. "I love you, Cas." he repeated, his voice barely audible.

"I didn't know."

It was Dean's turn. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

Dean pulled back from the hug, but kept Cas' coat balled tightly in his hands, preventing him from moving. "I can't-" He choked. "If you leave again… if you die, I won't survive it."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

Dean swayed slightly, feeling light headed as the last scrap of adrenaline fizzled out. "I need some air." He breathed, repeating his earlier sentiment.

Cas gently untangled Dean's fingers from his coat. He kept his hand on Dean's arm, starting to lead him towards the bunker door. Wordlessly they navigated the hallways and map room before finally climbing the stairs and opening the heavy metal door at the top yet again.

Dean didn't visibly react until the crisp evening air finally hit his skin, causing an involuntary shudder. He took a moment to appreciate standing in front of the bunker twice to get his head on straight. He took a few steps away from Cas, turning and slowly leaning back against Sam's car. "Fuck."

Cas stayed standing, a few feet in front of him, careful to give him a little space.

Dean raised a shaky hand and deliberately ran it under both eyes, efficiently wiping away the last tears from his face. He took a deep breath, watching his breath glinting in the last weak rays of sunlight. "I didn't think you were coming back. I thought this was it, man."

"I did not think I would either."

"If this isn't real-"

"It is." Cas cut in, desperate to end that line of thinking. "I am." He debated with himself for a second before walking to lean on the car next to him, abandoning his earlier concerns about crowding Dean. He was reassured when Dean immediately rearranged himself to lean against his shoulder. "I'm really here."

"Yeah." Dean breathed. "It's just gonna take me a minute."

"Take all the time you need." Cas shifted and put his arm around Dean, pulling the hunter a little closer to him.

Dean closed his eyes, breathing him in. "Do you think we can really have this?"

"If you will allow me to give it, you can have every part of me. Anything you ask of me, if it is in my power, I will not hesitate."

"Okay, no need to write a damn poem." Dean replied, rolling his eyes, but it had the desired effect. A small smile danced on his lips, and the tension had bled away from his shoulders.

"I meant what I said, Dean. Before I summoned the Empty."

"I heard you."

"I love you."

"I love you too." Dean was surprised by how natural that felt to say already. He closed his eyes again, feeling a spike of adrenaline as his mind latched onto the possibility that this actually was a dream, soon to be a particularly cruel nightmare, and this would all be ripped from him.

Cas noticed the shift, but decided it wouldn't help to just repeat himself. He changed tactics, aiming to distract. "You added our names to the table."

Dean looked up, surprised by the leap in conversation. "Yeah."

"It is a touching gesture."

"I thought you'd appreciate the irony. Using your full name." Dean said with a weak but genuine smile. "Sam said the ending, -iel or whatever means 'Of God'. Jack's God now. Thought you would want the title back."

Cas' expression was warm. "I do appreciate it."

"Sorry I shortened your name so early."

"It turned out to be somewhat prophetic." Cas said. "And besides, in your words…" He looked up, as if he were searching his memory for the exact quote. "Chuck is kind of a dick."

Dean barked out a sharp laugh, feeling the last shred of tension unclench in his stomach and he leaned back fully against the car. "Yeah, you got that right." He shuddered slightly.

Cas slipped out of his tan coat, handing it out towards Dean. "You are cold." He said simply, acknowledging that Dean had begun to shiver in the rapidly cooling temperatures.

Dean rolled his eyes, but he accepted the offering. He considered making a jab at him about sappy romances but he felt too genuinely touched by the gesture that he held back. He cleared his throat. "You saw Jack?" He waited for a nod. "He's good?"

Cas nodded. "He is well." He looked up towards the horizon, as if he could catch a glimpse of their surrogate son. "He is doing good out there. Fixing the mess Chuck made of heaven and earth."

"Good." Dean said softly. He frowned. "I miss him sometimes."

"He will be back."

Dean looked over at him.

"When he finishes, he'll be back. For a little while at least."

"Good."

"He told me to tell you he said hello."

Dean snorted. "Right." He made a big show of looking up at the sky. "Hello." He replied. "Give us a warning before you pop in, I'll throw some burgers on."

Cas laughed quietly. "I'm sure he'll like that."

Dean settled back again, taking a deep breath before he reached out and grabbed Cas' hand. He used it as an anchor, preventing him from drifting back into fear. "Tell me more."

"About-?"

"Anything." Dean admitted. I just want to hear you talk. I just need to hear you talk.

Cas caught the meaning. "Alright." He began. "Pick a century."

"What?"

"I will tell you all that I remember."

Dean tightened his grip on Cas' hand. "1800s. The wild west."

"I expected you would request that."

"Yeah yeah. Now spill."

As Cas launched into his story, Dean simply laid his head back on his shoulder, listening to the smooth cadence of his voice, and letting the feeling of the coat around his shoulder and the angel at his side warm him from inside to out.

He could get used to it. He would get used to it. He could have this. They could have this.

Dean tried to keep track of what Cas was saying, but really he was just relieved and surprised he was there at all. That this was happening.

Cas was back.

It was real.

#ao3 is down #I'm Bob Wess on fanfiction . net if y'all desperate

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