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If Dean were anyone else, it would’ve been the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
If he weren’t a hunter. If his brother wasn’t crumpled on the ground next to him, weak and withering. If Dean didn’t know what it meant to see a thousand white flames falling from hovering storm clouds.
But he knew. He knew what it meant. Not just for he and Sam. Or Kevin. Not just for the angels, confused and scared…lost.
But he knew what it meant for his angel.
Castiel could never go home again.
If Dean were the man he was five years ago he would’ve scoffed and said “Yeah, well. Join the club.”
But this was different. He was different.
The day he left hell, blanketed in the comforting warmth of salvation and Grace, that was the day he was irrevocably altered.
Not that he knew it at the time, of course. He was still too hard and mean, unflinching. But, hey, Hell will do that to a guy.
Somehow, the fearsome Dean Winchester had let something slip. Without noticing he had allowed himself to become soft, to have expectations of others, to trust.
His insides might as well be mush.
Thank God for his instincts. And John Winchester for being one paranoid son of a bitch, passing it on to his first born. Without those two entities constantly awake and aware within himself, Dean doesn’t want to consider how quickly he would’ve died already.
He knew he was soft because he could feel it.
When it looked like the stars themselves were plummeting to the Earth all at once, Dean wanted to weep.
For his angel.
The one that saved him, the one that marked him. The one that kept coming back to him.
His friend. His family. His other half.
Dean knew what this felt like. He’d become familiar with it after two or so decades.
The night their house caught fire with their mom inside, he knew. They would never go back. Even if they could, it would never be home again.
If he didn’t have to drag his brother’s dead weight into the backseat or worry about the King of Hell still locked up in the abandoned church, Dean would bow his head and pray for his angel.
Whether or not he could hear it doesn’t really matter.
He just wants someone to hear him.
‘Look out for him. Help him. Heal him. Don’t let him wander lost and alone.
Send him back to me.’
Unfortunately Heaven was closed for repairs until further notice, and Dean wasn’t just anyone.
So he tucked it away in the box labeled ‘DO NOT TOUCH’ and kept driving away from every problem on the list, except the first. Save his little brother.