Chapter Text
He could feel it. Slowly, carefully, like the steady flow of time—the curse separating itself from his grace. Like a snake deciding its prey wasn’t worthy enough to be devoured after all, the cure worked on relinquishing its hold. And although Castiel couldn’t feel more than that, he knew he wasn’t dead. Even though the darkness drowning him in an ocean of pitch black felt eerily similar to what he knew about the Empty, the fact that he felt something from Earth, namely the curse residing within him, told him that he couldn’t possibly be completely gone.
And there was nothing he wouldn’t give to be back, to be back with his family, to be back in Dean’s arms. He should have never told him; now there was nothing to say that he wasn’t blaming himself for what had happened. But even then, Castiel himself had been certain he wouldn’t die after hearing Dean’s response—in all his years alive, he had never once felt so whole. So filled with nothing but pure love and he felt almost selfish for thinking that it was a great feeling to finally receive what you had given for years on end. The other angels would certainly ridicule him for that, the fact that a single person’s feelings could mean so much to a being that was created to be a simple warrior, created to be above it all. But then again, his so-called former ‘family’ couldn’t miss what they have never had. Thus they could never understand why he would willingly go through every single of his recurring nightmares again—curses, mind manipulation, destruction of heaven, death—as long as it meant ending up at Dean’s side.
Soon voices started to fill the empty space he was residing within. Little, silent pleas sounding broken and mournful and quiet as if spoken, whispered directly into his ear and he wished for nothing more than to reach out and comfort them, to assure them they would be fine. But his limbs felt bound, restrained or perhaps even severed. As if he had no connection whatsoever to what was clearly apart of him, or at least had been since he took residence in Jimmy Novak, the vessel that no longer contained a soul.
Soon the voices turned more and more into noises he could comprehend, as he felt the unmistaken sound of forcefully kept quiet sobs ringing right in his ear, as he felt the rumble of a chest against his body and a sharp intake of a breath from in front of him, felt the gentle but desperate touch of a hand on his back and neck as if he was still being in someone’s hold.
Soon his senses returned and he was hit with a smell, odor of sweet plants and the foil stench of iron penetrating his nostrils—along with a smell he had come to know as Dean’s. A combination of leather, gunpowder and remnants of alcohol, mixed with a faint hint of the apple pie he so loved to eat; it didn’t exactly sound like anything special, but it was everything to the angel. Unconsciously he pressed himself further into what he believed to be the hunter holding him, trying to get as close to feeling alive as possible and in response he thought he noted the hands around him holding on tighter as well.
“...Cass?”
With a sudden sharp intake of air of his own tearing through his hurting lungs he opened his eyes, feeling himself finally snap out of the coils of the curse; felt its venomous hold snap as easily as a broken string and his grace rushed through his body with a strength that made him curl into a ball against Dean’s chest. His grace—which had been suppressed for far too long—coursed through every little part of his body and he felt the heat radiating from its attempts at mending his broken form, felt as intensely as never before the paths it took to reach every single cell, sensed how each individual part got repaired to its previous condition. His lungs felt as if a weight was placed on top of them as his grace rushed to heal what had been destroying them in an entire month’s time. But soon its urgency receded and finally being able to properly breathe again felt overwhelmingly satisfying—it wasn’t called ‘taking something for granted’ for no reason after all.
“Cass, are you—“ the voice resounding low and comforting in his ear broke off in a choked sound, a desperate swallow of the lump formed in his throat— “Are you...alive?”
In a slow movement filled with nothing short of wonder he pulled back a bit to properly look up, gazing into green eyes brimming with tears, some of which were still running down reddened cheeks, pooling amidst the beard stubble on his chin before dropping to the floor. There were still remnants of the blood trickling down the corner of Dean’s mouth which was pulled into a surprised expression of utter disbelief; the crimson a testament to the agony he must have still been in, simply holding Cass so close, simply breathing. Every intake of air rattling broken bones. Finally having regained control over his body, Castiel raised his hand to cup Dean’s cheek, never once refraining from staring into his eyes, the mere touch of Dean’s skin sending soft sparks dancing through Cass. With barely any effort his hand began glowing and in not more than a couple of seconds the hunter’s injuries were gone, faded as if never having been there in the first place.
“Hello Dean,” Cass finally managed to speak and seeing Dean’s eyes light up would never be surpassed by any other sight in the world.
The relieved smile that finally managed to pull at Dean’s lips despite the tears caught Castiel in a grasp that almost again managed to restrict his breathing—even though he now knew it had nothing to do with a curse whatsoever. He couldn’t help himself as he let his other hand rest on Dean’s face as well, wanting nothing more than to touch him to assure all of this was real, that it wasn’t just some dream he had conjured for himself to survive an eternity caught sleeping in the Empty. But it simply felt real, so real.
His thumb gently traced Dean’s jawline, watching green eyes morph from initial surprise to a fondness he almost never saw coming from the hunter—only in the rarest of moments when he actually felt content and thought no one was looking. The knowledge of having elicited such a response merely through his touch threatened to spin Castiel’s whole world as he simply relished the moment.
“Look at us sharing such a cliché Chick-Flick moment, huh?” Dean whispered with a chuckle only for Cass to hear, attempting to sound mocking of their closeness even though Castiel knew Dean craved it as much as the angel did himself. But in an unfamiliar environment with three other people silently observing their every movement Cass didn’t mind, letting his hands gently brush against Dean’s arms before falling to the side. Immediately he was enveloped in a tight hug, hands pressing against his back with so much desperation, with so much relief. Castiel let his chin rest on Dean’s shoulder, closing his eyes for a moment and taking a breath that smelled of Dean.
“We thought we’d lost you,” Dean continued, voice quiet and filled with emotions, with love, “I thought I’d lost you.” They separated and Dean gave him a pat on the arm as if they hadn’t just declared their love for one another mere minutes ago. “Don’t scare me like that again, Cass, you hear me?”
Castiel could only give a small smile at that.
——————
The bright happiness mingled with utter shock still radiating within him, ever since first hearing the angel take a breath after being declared dead, couldn’t be compared to anything he had ever felt before. Sure, eating a burger after coming back half starved from a hunt was certainly nice and listening to LED Zeppelin while driving his Baby certainly made his heart feel much lighter, but this right here and right now? Must be the absolute jackpot. Winners of the lottery had no idea what they were missing out on as he cradled the newly revived angel in his arms, more than anything relishing the mere knowledge that he was alive and well.
He hadn’t been aware that a mere hug could feel that great, even as he barely managed to separate himself from Cass if solely for the purpose of finally getting the hell out of the witch’s den before they could change their mind and re-curse them or anything of the sort. The anger he had felt directed at the witch had at least managed to decrease, considering they apparently did give them the right spell. Still, he definitely ought to get the hell out of their home, because staying here just a little bit longer and he couldn’t promise not trying to kill them dead. His rage was only outweighed by the sheer joy at the fact that Cass was back, and only for this fact alone would he hold back on the incredible urge to charge headfirst into battle—only to make sure that his anger wouldn’t senselessly put anybody else in danger.
Sam, fine as he could be with maybe a lightly scraped knee or perhaps even twisted ankle sat next to them, motionless. His eyebrows were drawn together into his usual expression of concern, but his mouth was up in a bright smile, teeth flashing white.
“Sam,” Cass addressed him, and Dean watched as the angel immediately reached out with his hand, placing it on Sam’s shoulder, warm light glowing from his palm before whatever pain his little brother must have had receded. With only a bit of hesitation remaining in his movements—no doubt coming from a place of surprise—Sam reached forward and pulled the two of them into a quick but fierce embrace, pressing them into his unfairly gigantic form with all the energy he could muster, strength only doubled by all the fear he had felt upon thinking he had lost them. The both of them reciprocated with equal force, clutching onto Sam with relief that felt palpable in the entire room. Not soon after his little brother let go, wiping the remnants of tears staining his cheeks away with a little laugh.
Dean almost couldn’t believe that his family had pulled out of this alright, that they had managed to circumvent the curse without dying in the process, never mind Dean’s new understanding of the depths of emotions he held for who he had for years called his best friend.
“I see your cure did work after all,” Rowena addressed the witch with certain hints of newfound lightness in her tone as she watched the three of them rise from their crumpled up positions on the floor, collecting themselves to leave. In response Amilya brushed a hand through their hair, an almost sheepish smile on their lips soon turning to a grin. Dean tried to not let the falling petals get to his mind as Cass placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “You did grow a lot over these past centuries—“ And because it was Rowena who spoke, who apparently loved to use other people as bargaining chips, she added on— “But I do hope, my dear, that you consider the debt I owe you as paid. Otherwise the Winchesters and their little guardian angel might just decide to run you through and I will gladly offer them my assistance.”
Those were certainly not words he expected from the redheaded witch who they had, after all, once not been exactly friendly with. Surprisingly the threat seemed to have an effect on Amilya as the grin fell from their face, but then again: The Winchesters weren’t known for nothing.
What just happened hours before? Slip-up, nothing more. Totally. A lack of sleep and the pressure of time. Now that Cass was fully charged and ready to go, as well as Rowena with one of the most powerful spell books known to date resting in her hands at their side, they could surely take Amilya down. And Dean wanted to, somehow. Something inside of him—the need for revenge that ran in his bloodline—wanted to take them down, once and for all. Cass’ grip was the anchor keeping him grounded, keeping him from giving in to an urge he had hoped to have lost since his days with the mark of cain burned into his forearm had passed.
Amilya seemed to contemplate before giving in with a roll of their eyes, a hand to their forehead in disbelief. “I recognize a threat when I see one—“ No shit, Sherlock— “Fine fine, debt’s paid. Now be so kind and ‘leave the premises’.” The words left their lips in a groan and the little air quotes only added to their initial annoyance. Rowena owing you a debt must have been a valuable ace to have up your sleeve; too bad it was gone now. Down the drain like the blood they had forced Cass to cough up.
Dean wasn’t sure whether he should keep holding onto his rage; somehow he felt like he couldn’t quite let go. Not after their earlier laughing when they had said that Cass couldn’t be saved. The hand on his arm kept him anchored whenever his mind blanked for a second, only a single blink of an eye away from storming forward to deliver what probably wouldn’t quite manage to be the witch’s final blow; and with every look at Cass—noting the latter’s pure happiness at still being alive—he managed to hold it back a second longer.
In a way, he guessed, he understood where Amilya was coming from. Possibly. Maybe. Besides, even if he’d decide to go all Hulk now, not a single person in the room would benefit from it. His priority at this moment was clear: taking Cass and Sam, throwing them into the car and moving the hell out of this shithole called a forest quite an hour’s drive away from home. The earlier they’d hit the road, the earlier they could start laughing about this entire thing instead of despising the beginning of it all—also, much to his relief, Cass didn’t seem to be too mad. There was something akin to light anger in the way his eyebrows scrunched up on his forehead when he skeptically stared at Amilya, but he didn’t appear all that hellbent on a fight.
Catching Dean still looking, Cass turned, hint of a smile on pale lips only ensuring Dean that Cass was feeling much better than he had in quite some time. And considering that rage was what made the witch go all out on them in the first place, he’d rather for once try to swallow it down instead of letting it out—even if it felt completely against his nature. Even if it felt like swallowing pins and needles. Cass was happy. Sam was safe. They were alive. That was all that counts.
“So,” Rowena spoke up, briefly folding her hands in front of her body clad in ridiculous amounts of royal purple. She then made a shoo motion when nobody moved, gesturing towards the door torn wide open after they had barged though it earlier, and Dean caught Amilya give a light pout of all things. “Let’s bring you boys home.”
No one felt up to argue. With all adrenaline having fled his body—especially after it had been clarified that there wouldn’t be a fight—Dean now felt the lack of sleep weighing heavily on his body more than ever before, practically tearing him down like shackles bound to his legs. Like lead, heavy enough to make him feel as if glued to the floor. But pride was a bitch, an important one at that, and he’d be damned to be found stumbling out of this bloody shack. Not in hell, not if he could very well just bottle everything up and walk out of there in strides, head held high. It was probably really for the best that they just left, if walking alone was enough of a chore for the moment.
Sammy didn’t appear to be in a much better condition either. He looked on the verge of falling asleep and Dean remembered that he’d only really gotten any rest in the Impala on their way to the witch, and only an hour or so at most. And while Dean certainly was used to almost not getting any sleep whatsoever and running on the occasional coffee as well as pure adrenaline, Sam had adopted a healthier lifestyle over the last years, which meant he was probably much closer to passing out than Dean.
On his way out, a sudden hand on his arm made him halt and he turned with narrowed eyes glinting at Amilya who immediately let go as Cass next to him pulled his Angel blade from his sleeve, pointing it at them almost close enough to scrape their throat. Amilya threw their hands up in a placating gesture, taking a step back making the wooden floor boards squeak beneath their shoes.
“Listen,” Amilya spoke oddly quiet, a faint grin that still held onto vague remnants of guilt spread on their face. Rowena carefully watched them out of the corner of her eyes. “I’m sorry, okay? I guess I should’ve known better after losing—“ They bit their lip in a quick motion to stop the thought— “I- I didn’t know your feelings were so...real. So pure. I honestly thought no one could break my curse, ever. Not until I saw you two.” Dean didn’t even have the time to feel embarrassed by their words as they snapped their fingers immediately to interrupt themselves, a gesture that didn’t even surprise him anymore. “But in my defense, you weren’t exactly an exemplary visitor, were you? My nose still hurts like hell.”
Only now did Dean cast a glance at their condition, actually taking it in. At their blue and purple nose still carrying splotches of crimson that had left trails in their wake the witch apparently hadn’t bothered to wipe away so far. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to care, even if he did indeed understand the sentiment of revenge. But once said revenge pulled someone from his own family into it, it was over. “But don’t ever try and find me again,” they continued words grim even though the grin persisted, “Or I swear it’s the last you’ll do.”
Dean couldn’t help the smirk pulling on his own lips in response to their threat, as serious as the situation was. “Don’t go curse some rando’ people then. Or else we won’t go easy on ya next time.”
For some reason Amilya smiled back more sincerely, as if they hadn’t just been promising each other certain death upon their next meeting, but in that smile even Dean could clearly see just how genuine their earlier apology had been. Not that he currently cared about anything but getting the hell out of there and back to the bunker, because he was certainly in need of rest. Sammy too, and Dean just really felt the need to throw Cass into their home so that he would be far, far away from the next witch to potentially curse him—apart from Rowena, but he felt like he could at least trust her farther than he could throw her, which was a first for a witch in his experience. Because damn those witches, man. One was more than enough and don’t get him started on Sammy—even though he couldn’t help the pride at seeing him wrestle his way though books and spells until he could understand and recreate them to a T.
Rowena pinched the bridge of her nose as she gave a much too dramatic sigh, which at least managed to pull everyone’s focus onto her.
“Amilya dear, you are much too old to be arguing with a Winchester. And you boys—“ She turned from the witch to glance at the three people in question— “Out you go.” While Sam was the first to stumble onward, Dean vaguely noted how Rowena took their weapons back from Amilya, the two witches giving each other a look that was a pure mixture of hatred and admiration, before Cass pulled him along, shoving him outside of the house and into the woods. The chirping birds only seemed to agitate Dean as they trekked through the dirt and mud, the leaves and well, well past the flowers—god forbid Amilya could come back around and force their pet plants on them another time.
As the cabin faded in the distance, Dean finally let the need for rest overcome the earlier leftovers of his adrenaline, finally relaxing with the knowledge that they’d all be okay and soon to be home. Oh, if sleep wasn’t making the top of his list right now, he might just kill for a good old fashioned burger and some classic Western running on TV, sitting together with his family tucked safely into the secure bunker and—
“Well,” Rowena spoke up, interrupting Dean’s thoughts trailing off, “Neither of you boys are in any condition to drive. Perhaps it would be better if Castiel and I took it upon ourselves to drive the two of you home, aye? I wouldn’t want to end up in an accident because you two decided to fetch up on your sleep while sitting behind the wheel, yes?” There was some sort of soft smile somewhere in the way she talked, but Dean only managed a half hearted grumble in response while Sam next to him gave a nod.
“That seems to be an advisable approach,” Cass replied from next to Dean and not soon after all four lapsed into silence, standing in front of the two cars parked next to each other near the road. Baby glistened a perfect jet black in the early rays of morning sun, while Cass’ beige pimpmobile seemed almost comical in comparison—as dorky as the person who owned it no doubt.
“Cass, is it alright if Rowena and I take your car?” Sam spoke up, the first to interrupt the silence that probably emerged because of the grande question which was; who was even allowed to drive Dean’s car but Dean himself? Sam, sometimes, but Sam wasn’t allowed to drive right now—even more so now that he practically stumbled against Cass’ car stiffening a yawn. Without a spoken response, Cass snatched the car keys out of his trench coat, handing them to Rowena who in turn dumped all of their weapons into his arms and promptly turned around, unlocking the doors and making herself comfortable as she played with the seat, adjusting it to fit her small frame. Even though Cass was shorter than Dean and especially than his gigantic brother Sam, Rowena was undoubtedly much, much smaller. It was almost funny how Sam had to duck his head as he entered the car, throwing himself into the passenger’s seat and sinking into it with a relaxed sigh that was audible even though the door was already closed.
“That alright with you, Cass?” Dean asked, looking at Cass as they still stood in front of the two cars, watching Rowena put the key into the ignition while Sam almost immediately fell asleep slumped against the window, little breaths fogging the glass with every rise and fall of his chest, “Letting Rowena drive your car I mean.”
Blue eyes pierced him almost instantly, head tilting lightly to the side as he regarded Dean with an intensity that once made him uncomfortable—as being the sole focus of someone easily tended to be—but over the years just turned into something that was so...Cass, that he had no other choice but to accept it as a part of the dorky angel, even starting to come to like it. His gaze gave Dean some odd sense of purpose, a celestial being’s attention so directly resting on him.
“I doubt you would want her to drive the Impala,” he replied, matter-of-factly as he held his palm in front of Dean, apparently waiting for the keys, “Unless—“ he almost pulled back, hand twitching— “You don’t want me to—“
The sudden shaking of Dean’s head was almost intense enough to make his head spin in a try to interrupt him.
“No that’s not it,” Dean said, “I just didn’t want you to think you’d have to sacrifice your car—Sure you can drive Baby if you want.” But that almost sounded too sappy again even though no one else was listening, especially with the unsaid ‘Because I trust you’ lingering heavily in the air; but no one was dying and it felt too normal, too intimate, so he added a laugh and said, “But no scratches or this time’ll be the last.”
Apparently Cass could live with that because he started to smile, lightly so, taking the set of keys from Dean’s outstretched hand with a gentle movement that brushed his fingers against Dean’s skin before walking around to unlock the car, first throwing the weapons into the trunk before letting himself relax into the black cushions.
In the silence that spread over them like a comforting blanket, Dean noticed Rowena, having watched Dean with an odd grin and a wink before she gave a little nod directed at Cass who had turned to observe as well. The engine roared as Rowena finally made her way to turn on the street—obviously having waited for the two to finish their conversation—Cass following suit behind her as they sped through twists and turns, driving along the highway towards their home.
Despite the lack of sleep nagging at his brain and despite all adrenaline and remnants of caffeine gone, Dean realized he found himself unable to sleep. There was just so much running rampage in his head, he felt like the dirt under the hooves of horses in one of his favorite Western movies. As nice as these movies were, being trampled certainly wasn’t, and as he turned to look at Cass in the driver seat he found him already looking at him with a sincere and fond smile gracing his face.
“What?” he couldn’t help but ask, trying to sit a bit up after he had tried and slumped down in his seat.
“Your soul,” Cass replied, throwing Dean so far out of the loop he couldn’t help but avert his eyes for a moment to collect himself, marveling at the angel’s directness leaving him unable to properly respond, “It seems so much brighter than it had before, than it was ever since I met you. There was always this certain...doubt. As if you didn’t believe yourself to be worthy of anything that could make you happy.”
After so many spoken and heartfelt words, Dean couldn’t help but look back at him with his mouth lightly agape, staring at the angel in wonder. He hadn’t realized that this was still the case—that his self-worth issues were still a permanent part of his life. But apparently it was the truth. He had always known that Sam loved him, clearly. They went through so much shit together, never quite leaving one another behind no matter how much the other tried to convince them, or even if they tried to convince themselves to leave it all behind, they always came right back around as if they couldn’t live without one another. But they were brothers, born family connected through blood. Sometimes Dean felt Sam had no choice but to feel responsible.
With Cass it was always a bit different. At first he was just an angel, defying heaven for someone he had just gotten to know and Dean had never understood why anyone in their right mind would give up their home for one, single person. But now he understood that it was love, of all things, that made him do it. It was love that prompted Cass to defy everyone and everything to throw himself into danger on every possible occasion just to shield the Winchesters from it, to shield Dean from it. It was love that made Cass return no matter how often Dean had been a ridiculous asshole, and it was love that made Dean react with rage in the first place.
For it was love that made him feel enraged, absolutely maddened whenever Cass would feel the need to sacrifice everything and himself for the two of them, for Dean. Because Dean didn’t, under any circumstances, want to lose him. Because losing him always made him feel like he lost a part of himself and he felt completely unable to function without him by his side.
For it was love that continuously brought the two of them back together.
“But now it just seems lighter,” Cass continued and Dean had to remind himself that he shouldn’t space out with the topic of his thoughts right beside him, trying to talk to him, “Beautiful even.”
“Despite how tired I am?” Dean couldn’t help but muse to distract from how touched he was. Even though he felt his response didn’t quite make sense, but come on, that’s what lack of sleep does to you, alright? Case in point. “I haven’t slept in days...All of that—“ he made a jerky movement with his hand, gesturing at his own face as if that would explain his jumbled train of thoughts— “Ought to rub off on my soul eventually, right?” The sincerity and goddamn amounts of adoration dripping from Cass’ every syllable that he only now started to realize have always been there were just too much for him to handle and he couldn’t help the very intelligent stumble in his speech.
Cass gave a chuckle that aided in pulling Dean’s lips even further into a smile. “Despite everything, yes.”
The road was mostly empty safe for the two cars speeding along, barely any other people bothering to take this exact road during this time of the day.
“So you’re...feeling better now?” Dean asked. The lack of other cars only helped in relaxing Dean’s agitated mind, calming his heart and helping soothing him into a rest as the only sounds were Baby’s soft engine roaring and Cass’ and Dean’s faint breaths.
“I do,” Cass replied, casting a glance at Dean before looking back out of the window, “How about you? How do you feel?”
Dean honestly wasn’t quite sure how to reply to that. So much had happened it left his mind behind confused but enlightened at the same time, filled with the knowledge of the person beside him loving him with all he had and all he was, as well as knowing that he returned it with everything he knew. There weren’t many people in the world he would want to live for, since he himself knew he had a terrible preservation instinct and apparently a knack for sacrificing himself whenever the situation seemed dire. But Sam and Cass were his family, they were the people he never wanted to separate from under any circumstances, but would nonetheless in a heartbeat if he had to, only to save them.
“I’m fine,” Dean said, almost whispered as he thought about everything, “For real this time.”
He really hoped he wouldn’t have to separate from Cass anytime soon. Because right now, he felt himself to be happy. He was, actually, much to his surprise, absolutely happy. Turning his head to stare at the angel in question he realized that he wouldn’t ever feel more love for someone, nor feel more loved in his life. With a glance back, blue meeting green the immediate feeling of hope and security enveloped him and he didn’t want to admit that he knew his own eyes were softening just while looking at Cass.
“Hey, Cass,” he spoke up into the silence, feeling like he couldn’t sleep before he hadn’t said anything. Cass tilted his head in response, patiently waiting while Dean collected his thoughts enough to form them into a coherent sentence.
“Thank you. For everything.” His hand went to scratch his neck as he delved into his thoughts, tongue wetting his lips to alleviate the dryness caused by anxiety. “For always being there for me—for saving me just now. I- I know I’m not saying this enough, I really do, but I...I’m really grateful for you always being there and...I couldn’t be more happy to have met you.”
That goddamn idiot had the audacity to look at Dean with such a gentle smile it made his heart stutter like a damned, good as broken record left behind on a record player. In addition to that, he stopped looking at the road for far too long only to look at Dean, it was a wonder he was still driving along the right lane and hadn’t yet swerved into contraflow. Relief left him in a breath when Cass returned to looking out of the window, even still with a smile that Dean had come to see much too rarely ever since they had met. The occasions in which he had smiled, Dean could easily count on one hand and he just now set himself to making sure to change that.
“You’re saying this as if I’m not aware of it,” he spoke, voice calm and gentle, “Dean, I always have and I always will do everything in my power to protect you—it’s my highest priority.”
When words rang so deeply in your being, resonating right with your very soul it was no wonder if you couldn’t be quite sure how to reply—just like Dean felt in that moment.
“And—“ apparently Cass wasn’t even done, Dean had problems to swallow the lump in his throat created by so many emotions he continuously tried to bite down on— “There has never been and never will be a single moment in my eternally long life that could be more beautiful than the day I have met you. I will always be grateful that I was given the chance to save you, that I fell, for you to show me what it is like to feel.”
Leave it to Cass to take a stuttered out declaration of your feelings and turn it into something straight out of a poetry book. It would be a lie to say that Dean wasn’t completely touched by his words, but then again, it would be a miracle for anyone to not be. He wasn’t quite sure how much of it showed on his face, but he was certain that his heart was seconds away from bursting just by how sincere and sappy, in a way, Cass’ words were, by how much it meant for Dean to hear, understand, and also finally accept them as the truth.
The sun shone along the horizon, blazing rays starting to make themselves known which didn’t seem to bother Cass at all while he was driving. Pink and purple hues of the sky were turning into clear blue right in front of their eyes, few specs of clouds dotting it like cotton candy and for some reason it seemed absolutely mesmerizing to Dean as he glanced out of the window. Perhaps it mingled with the fact that he felt oddly safe and secure in his Baby next to Cass, felt calm and at peace while the angel was driving as he trusted him with every fiber of his being. It was truly a strange sensation, to place so much trust into someone, but after all this time spent together, mixed with the knowledge of all the secrets Cass had withheld from them being only to protect the person he loved, he decided to let it all go. Sam would certainly applaud him for this decision while Dean had always been amazed and concerned by Sam’s abilities to easily forgive and forget, never being one to easily do so himself.
But after all of this he simply had to. How could he hold this against Cass, if he, too, would do anything possible to save the angel sitting next to him, the angel that was currently on a long-ass ride in a car when he had once had his wings to fly with? That had gone through so much and continued to give, driving only to bring Dean safely back home?
Out of the corner of his eyes Dean noticed Cass brushing against something in the pocket of his trench coat, apparently looking for something. Dean shuffled, wanting to help before Cass accidentally did manage to crash them into contraflow because of his distraction, and his hand only barely managed to brush against the worn fabric of Cass’ clothes before the angel finally found what he had searched for. And Dean’s voice stuttered even before he opened his mouth to speak. The look on Cass’ face was so relaxed, so fond—Dean would be lying if this hadn’t been part of his intention all this time ago, when he had pushed the damn thing into the angel’s hands. Slightly hypocritical to despise Chick-Flick moments and then pulling one yourself, right?
“Is that—“ But of course it was, Dean had eyes didn’t he? He would always recognize the little plastic casing, the carefully scribbled letters in ballpoint pen. The thing’s condition was as good as new and Dean wasn’t sure whether it meant that Cass never used it, or whether he took particularly good care of it.
“Yes,” Cass replied, idiot as he was, holding the thing out for Dean to take, “Thank you.” The hand continued to hover between them, patiently, and only now did Dean realize that he hadn’t moved, being expected to actually take it.
“No, Cass,” he put his hand on top of it, guiding Cass’ hand closed with the little self-made mixtape residing safely within, “Its a gift. You keep those.”
If the angel’s face had been bright before, it was nothing to how it looked now. Dude would blind him if Dean kept looking, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it was part of Cass’ true form leaking out.
“Ah,” he made a soft noise of understanding, momentarily neither of them moving before Dean withdrew his hand, only slightly flustered, mind you. Apparently Cass had been keeping the mixtape in his pocket close to his heart the entire time, and if that wasn’t something to make one’s own heart burst with joy, then what was? “I see,” Cass continued, thumb stroking the case, “Thank you, Dean.”
The hunter grinned. “Feel free to put it in,” he said as if it wasn’t a huge deal for him, crossing his arms behind his head, “Bit of Zepp has never hurt anybody.”
And with a flick of a wrist—a gentle one at that—the first track was running silently in the background, drenching the car in music destined for only the two of them to hear. Dean knew it was only that quiet because Cass knew he was tired; without any doubt Cass would have spiked the volume if only for Dean’s joy at listening to his favorite band. This was nice. They should do that more often. Not the entire witch thing mind you; just driving in the Impala, relishing each other’s mere presence with a smile on their lips.
Then as it was, then again it will be
And though the course may change sometimes, rivers always reach the sea
The knowledge just how much space a person could take up in your heart was a frightening one indeed, and even though Dean wasn’t able to easily say those famous three words out loud, nor quite understanding just how much exactly Cass meant to him, he couldn’t help but think that it would all be okay.
Because he certainly didn’t need to find words to describe who he was. He only needed to accept it. And reaching over to Cass, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze, brushing his hand against the hair on the nape of Cass’ neck for the tiniest fraction of a second before letting himself sink into the seat with his head against the window, he knew that this was alright. He knew that he loved Cass and this was enough for him to know, and so he closed his eyes, falling asleep to the sounds of the world rushing past him in a blur, the sound of Zeppelin painting the air with beautiful melodies, knowing that his angel would watch over him. A silent ‘I love you’ resting just on top of his tongue, on both of their tongues, as Cass unbeknownst to him watched him with all of the love he carried in his own heart; love for the soul that had saved him years ago.
Changes fill my time, baby, that’s alright with me
In the midst I think of you, and how it used to be
The Impala sped along the freshly paved road, nothing to disrupt Dean’s peaceful sleep as Cass let his head nod lightly along to the tune. The song’s text almost played inside his mind like written words from all his time spent listening to the mixtape, over and over again. Each song was a little part of Dean, a little sliver of things he couldn’t say out loud. So, Cass had listened intently to every single one, putting all of his being into the music cradling him in its hold. The music was Dean, heart and soul, and Cass found himself unable to do anything but love it as much as the person who had chosen them for him.
Did you ever really need somebody, and really need ‘em bad
Did you ever really want somebody, the best love you ever had
Life had won over Death this time and Cass was immensely grateful for having the opportunity to stay with his family, to stay by Dean’s side through whatever may come. The song sounded like a sweet lullaby, sun shining faintly through the glass screen and giving Dean a heavenly glow as Cass gazed at him, before looking back at the road to hurry along to their home.
I’m never gonna leave you
I never gonna leave
Holdin’ on, ten years gone