Archive of Our Own ^beta

Cas

“Hey, Cas. It’s Sam. Listen we uh, we need your help.”

Cas swerved onto the side of the road, shutting the engine of his truck off and snatching his phone from the cup holder. Something in Sam’s voice sent a shiver of worry down Cas’ spine. The search for Kelly Kline could wait. “Sam, what’s going on?”

“Something’s happened to Dean. It started with him disappearing last night and coming back with his phone broken. We thought it was just a drunk night out,” Sam said, and Cas winced. He couldn’t remember the last time Dean had gone out like that. Most nights they were in the bunker, Dean invited Cas to watch movies with him until Dean inevitably fell asleep on the couch and Cas tugged a blanket over him and quietly read beside him. They were Cas’ favorite moments of the day; when he could curl up on the couch next to Dean and share a bowl of popcorn and pretend for a couple hours it was a movie date night. Not that that was important right now. “But something’s wrong, Cas. We think Dean’s been cursed. I just called Rowena-”

“You called Rowena?” Cas blinked in surprise. Why would Sam call Rowena before he called him? Sure, Rowena could be useful sometimes, but she was unreliable and only out for herself; the complete opposite of Cas, who would do anything to protect Dean and the rest of his family.

“It’s a witch's curse. Or at least that’s our working theory. Listen, I called Rowena for the spell help, but I don’t trust her. And Dean’s- Dean’s getting worse.”

The tug in Cas’ gut exploded into a burst of fear and nausea. “Worse? What do you mean, worse?”

There was a deep breath on the other end of the line, and then a door snicking shut as Sam stepped out of a room. “He’s losing his memory.”

Cas’ knuckles turned white from his grip on the steering wheel. “He’s what?”

Sam sucked in another breath, before letting it out in a broken sound. “It started out small, you know. Forgetting details about the case we were working on and not remembering which key was for the Impala. Then he momentarily forgot his name and-” Sam broke off, and Cas felt his stomach lurch again. “I’ve been labeling everything around the room with post-it notes because he couldn’t even remember what a lamp was. Rowena thinks it’s some kind of curse that will make him slowly forget everything about himself until he dies.”

Cas’ mouth suddenly felt like the Sahara desert, and he swallowed thickly. “What can I do?” he rasped out, hand tightening around his phone until it creaked in his grasp.

“I need you here. Rowena’s on her way, but I just don’t think that’s going to be enough. Someone needs to be able to watch over Dean if we have any hope of breaking the spell, and I want him to be around someone he feels safe with. And you’re his best friend, you know? If there’s anyone he might remember or at least feel comfortable around, it’s you.”

Something inside Cas’ chest ached. Ached so deeply it felt like he was shattering. He was supposed to protect Dean. And where was he when Dean had gotten cursed? What was he doing when Dean needed him? He was too busy in another state, handling a different case. He should’ve been there. All he could do was nod numbly at Sam’s words. Because he knew. If they couldn’t end the spell, Dean was going to die.

No.

Cas wouldn’t let that happen. He had saved Dean so many times. He could do it again. What was one more miracle, right? Even if he was a broken angel, he could save Dean’s life one more time.

“Where? Tell me where you are,” Cas said, already turning the ignition.

Cas could barely hear Sam’s voice as the engine roared to life. “Eureka Springs. Arkansas. Until you and Rowena get here, we’re gonna retrace Dean’s steps from yesterday to see if we can find the witch who cast the spell. Cas just- get here quick.”

There was that tone again in Sam’s voice. The one that had every wavelength of Cas’ being thrashing with panic. Not his Dean. Not today.

“I’ll be there by tonight,” Cas said, hanging up and immediately spinning the steering wheel until the tires screeched across the pavement. That had to be enough time. Please let there be enough time. 

Being too late was not an option.

~~~

Sam

“Our best friend’s an angel?” Dean asked, looking down at the ground as they trudged through the woods; mouthing something about tree feet.

“Tree roots, Dean,” Sam said, watching as his brother mouthed the word root as if he’d never heard the word in his life. And wasn’t that weird? It had always been Dean teaching him things their whole lives, and now Sam was the one teaching Dean. It would’ve been funny if the situation wasn’t so dire. Maybe he could tell Dean about it once they’d reversed the curse? More for Sam’s own enjoyment at the opportunity to tease his brother. “ Your best friend. But yeah. Cas is an angel,” he replied.

Following Dean’s footsteps from the day before had proven to be unhelpful so far in recovering Dean’s memories. Making their way through the woods in search of where the witch had fled after Dean had followed him out of the bar the previous night was their only lead. They needed to find some kind of evidence that would help them reverse this curse. And fast. Because Sam had told his brother their life story three times already and Dean still didn’t seem to be able to remember. 

“ My best friend? Why just my best friend? Don’t we share friends?” Dean repeated, tilting his head at Sam and almost tripping over another tree root.

The head tilt was so reminiscent of the way Cas tilted his head that it momentarily stunned Sam. When had Dean started copying Cas’ mannerisms? They really must have been spending a lot of time together if Dean was mimicking Cas without even having the memories to know he was doing it. It certainly was an interesting friendship between the two of them. Maybe it was because Sam had never had a best friend of his own, but something about the way Dean and Cas interacted had always been different. Sam just couldn’t put his finger on why.

Shining the beam of his flashlight across the expanse of trees, Sam nodded. “Yeah. I mean, Cas is family. He’s my friend, too. But… there’s always been something between you two. He’s your best friend. And you're his best friend, too.”

“An angel. Isn’t that crazy? Mom always used to say angels were watching over us. Except now there really is one.” Dean lapsed into silence for a minute before speaking again. “Cas. Pretty name.”

Sam snorted a laugh, rolling his eyes as they followed the faint trace of blood through the mottled leaves. “You’re the one who started calling him Cas.”

“Whaddaya mean?”

“His name is Castiel. But you started calling him Cas after knowing him for all of two days.”

Dean hummed, swinging his flashlight around in a circle. “Does he look like a Cas?”

Sam stopped in his tracks, spinning around to face Dean. Either Dean’s memory slips were starting to get worse, or Sam was starting to lose his mind, too. “I have absolutely no idea what that question even means, Dean.”

Sam noticed that Dean was focusing on Cas a lot. Was it the novelty of the thought he had a best friend? Was it because Cas was an angel and that thought was unbelievable for Dean? Or was there something more?

A hundred questions Sam couldn’t answer and he couldn’t ask Dean either. But the thoughts were lingering and Sam felt like he was missing a key piece of the puzzle.

Opening his mouth, Dean attempted to reply, but then changed his mind as he wiggled his flashlight towards a tree to their left. “Hey, look at that. Those are freaky,” Dean said, pointing out a glyph, painted in what was probably blood across one of the tree trunks.

“They’re glyphs, Dean. Witches use them in spells. I’ve never seen one like this before. Maybe Rowena will know what they’re for.”

Dean disappeared around the tree, his voice muffled as he replied, “Rowena? Who’s Rowena? That’s a weird name.”

Something in Sam’s brain twinged, and he looked up sharply. Rowena with the weird name but Cas with the pretty name. 

Who said their best friend's name was pretty and copied their mannerisms so perfectly? Was Sam missing something? Was there more to their friendship than he’d ever known?

There was something to be said about those findings; something to be explored. A relationship spelled out in unspoken words. But now wasn’t the time. Not when Dean’s life hung in the balance.

~~~

Dean 

This room was warm. Comfortably warm though. Dean kinda liked it. At least he thought he did. Did he like the warmth? He was wearing a lot of layers right now. Was that normal for him? 

Hm. He wasn’t sure. 

Shrugging it off, Dean noticed he was holding something. What was this object in his hand? Oh, there was a note next to it. Toothbrush.

What was a toothbrush used for again?

Looking up at Sam to ask his brother what this thing did, he caught sight of a picture in front of Sam’s face. Glancing back down at the toothbrush, he tried hard to think of what it was for, frowning in concentration, but after several seconds of blank space in his head, he decided whatever Sam was looking at was more interesting.

“Woah, is that a dead guy?” Dean said, moving across the room to get a closer look.

“Yeah,” Sam replied, fingers still tapping away on whatever device his brother was using.

“Never seen a dead guy before.” Dean leaned closer, slightly amazed at the image. There was something weird about the guy’s expression. Wait, did he recognize the dead guy? Nah. Just a dead body.

Sam laughed. Not something humorous; just a sound of disbelief. “Yeah, Dean, you have. Trust me.”

Something in Dean’s brain lurched, and he wanted to ask more. What did Sam mean he’d seen a dead guy before? Why would he know anything about a dead body? The thoughts trailed off a second later as a knock echoed through the air.

‘Oh, door,’ Dean thought, moving across the room to open the door.

“Hey! No, Dean, wait a second, that might be-” Sam started to say, but Dean wasn’t listening.

He swung the door open, and dropped the brush thing from his hand. “Oh, you’re handsome,” Dean said, flickering his gaze up and down the man’s body. 

Oh wow. Handsome wasn’t enough. Beautiful blue eyes. Pretty bow lips shaped into a tiny little smile. The man’s eyebrows and nose were scrunched up adorably, and Dean wanted to reach out and touch the little creases next to the man’s eyes with his thumb. His hair looked soft, and Dean wondered what it would feel like to card his fingers through the dark locks.

The man was wearing fancy clothes, and the object tied around his neck looked like it was backwards. Dean was tempted to reach out and turn it around, as if something in his subconscious was familiar with the motion of fixing the material. But it was the brown coat he was wearing that made Dean’s heart do a funny jump in his chest. He couldn’t place why, but something about that coat made Dean feel safe and content.

Flickering his eyes down, Dean caught sight of the man’s hands and oh. Even his hands were pretty. They looked soft and Dean wanted to reach out and press their hands together.

The more Dean stared at the man, the cuter he thought he was. How was it possible for a middle aged man to be that attractive? 

“Who are you?” Dean asked, finally finding the words he’d been struggling to ask because he’d been too busy admiring the man.

Dean darted his eyes over to Sam, and then back to the mysterious man in front of him curiously. Why was there such a pretty man standing on their doorstep?

“Dean,” the man said, and, oh, that voice was so deep. Why were Dean’s knees suddenly feeling weak? And why was his breath stuck in his lungs?

“Dean, that’s Cas…. Your best friend?” Sam said, tucking his gun back into his waistband and motioning for Cas to enter the room.

The handsome man took a couple steps into the room, then stopped, hesitated, hand half-reaching out towards Dean before he dropped it uncomfortably. “The spell’s getting worse?” the man- uh, right, Cas- asked, gaze darting between Sam and Dean.

And then those eyes were locking with Dean’s. Oh. So blue. “Your eyes. They’re so bright,” Dean said, reaching out and tracing a finger right underneath those pretty eyes.

Cas let out a sound of surprise, his hand coming up to brush against Dean’s. The second Cas’ fingers grazed against his, Dean felt the air leave his lungs in a gasp. Oh . Why did that feel so good? Was the room always spinning? Or had that only just started to happen?

Cas gently guided Dean’s hand down away from his face, fingers skimming along Dean’s palm, and Dean felt a shudder run through his body. Those hands touching his were just as soft as they looked, and Dean wondered briefly how the man would react if he laced their fingers together. There was also something about the little smile on Cas’ face, it made Dean want to reach out and touch that, too. And he almost did.

Except Sam was clearing his throat, and Cas was pulling away with a sheepish look on his face. The loss of warmth was unsettling, and something in Dean desperately wanted to close the gap and step closer to the handsome man Sam had claimed was his best friend.

“So Rowena should be here any minute. We’re going to look for a way to reverse the spell. If you could just, you know, keep him company?” Sam said, eyes flickering between Cas and Dean.

Cas nodded, guiding Dean back towards one of the beds as there was another knock at the door. This time Sam answered, but Dean wasn’t paying attention to whoever was on the other side. Not when the pretty man was sitting down right next to him on the bed.

“You’re my best friend?” Dean asked, reaching out and touching Cas’ hand again; fingertips pressing against the back of Cas’ knuckles.

“Yes. Although the concept of a best friend is something that’s still new to me,” Cas replied, shifting on the bed until he was facing Dean.

“Why?”

“Because angels don’t usually have best friends.”

Dean startled; reaching out to touch Cas again just to see if he was real. Had his brain made this up? Was there really an angel sitting on the bed next to him? No one had told him his best friend was an angel. “You’re an angel? Angels are real?”

Cas smiled, a faint little smile, and he nodded slowly. “Yeah, Dean. Angels are real. Heaven is real,” Cas said, watching the awe on Dean’s face.

Dean touched Cas’ arm; feeling warmth radiating up into his palm. Oh yes. That’s definitely real. “An angel? Wow. That’s awesome.”

Cas gave him a lopsided grin. “You know, you’re taking the news much better this time around.”

Dean blinked in surprise. “What do you mean?”

And then Cas laughed, soft and low, and Dean swore he’d never heard such a beautiful sound in all his life. Oh, he wanted to hear that again.

“The first time we met and I told you I was an angel, you stabbed me in the chest,” Cas said, but there was no anger behind the words. No betrayal. Just the hint of a fond smile that made Dean feel lightheaded. 

“I stabbed you? Well that wasn’t very nice,” Dean replied, frowning slightly. Why would he stab his best friend in the chest?

“I was powerful back then, and your demon blade wasn’t a very effective weapon. Didn’t hurt much,” Cas said, his knee brushing against Dean’s as he moved closer.

Oh.

There was that feeling again. A fluttering in his chest threatening to make his heart beat too fast. Was that normal? Should he ask Sam if that reaction was something he should be feeling?

“You look powerful now,” Dean said. A flicker of astonishment sparked across Cas’ face, and that little fond smile was back on Cas’ lips. The urge to reach out and feel that smile against his fingertips was even more palpable now than it had been a few minutes ago.

But once again, Sam cleared his throat and Dean tore his gaze away from that pretty smile. His brother was now standing next to a red-headed woman who must’ve been at the door after Cas had walked in.

“Rowena and I are gonna scope out where we think the witches might be. We’ll be back as soon as we can,” Sam said, eyes never leaving Dean. But Dean didn’t say anything; just nodded at his brother before looking back to Cas.

“Oh, they really are close, aren’t they?” Rowena teased from somewhere behind Sam. A flush crept along Cas’ cheeks and he moved back slightly on the mattress, putting more cold space between them.

“Break the spell, Rowena,” Cas said, his tone firmer than it had been a second ago, though his eyes never wavered from Dean.

Rowena tsked, muttering something that Dean couldn’t quite make out. Sam pushed the mysterious woman out the door with the promise they’d be back when they found out more about the spell, and then the room was quiet once again.

Dean turned his gaze back towards Cas, only to see Cas was already watching him. Green eyes locked with blue, and Dean wanted to drown in those blue depths. “You’re really my best friend?” he asked again.

Cas settled in a little more comfortably and debated the question for a moment, as if it were the most important question in the universe. Then he nodded. “I know that you like your coffee with a dash of cream and a hint of sugar. Your favorite meal is bacon cheeseburgers, a slice of pie, and a milkshake. You like showing me Western movies and romcoms when we have movie nights because those are your favorites, and you know every line. You sleep with a gun under your pillow and you hate mornings, but you have no issue staying up all night. You carry a pocketknife in your back pocket. You have a lucky penny in your wallet. You keep it even though you know it isn’t actually lucky. You listen to Led Zeppelin at least once a day. Your favorite color is blue, and you love cooking…” Cas trailed off, shaking his head almost imperceptibly.

Dean laughed; as the laughter bubbled up from his chest and slipped past his lips, he leaned against the pillows. “You know more about me than I do.”

Cas flashed him a rueful smile, shifting to move off of the bed. Except Dean didn’t want him to leave. “Tell me about you,” Dean said, tripping over his words in the rush to get them out..

Cas froze. “You know everything about me,” Cas said quickly, and then his face crumpled. “Dean, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

Dean shook his head, giving Cas a small smile. “Tell me again.”

“You want to know about me? Even though you won’t remember?”

“Yeah, I do. I’ll remember if you tell me.”

Cas hesitated for a second, and Dean could see the emotions flickering across his face, even if he couldn’t name them. And then Cas settled on the mattress again and he nodded slowly. “Okay. What do you want to know?”

“Anything. Everything,” Dean said, aching to feel closer to Cas. As if Cas had all the answers Dean needed. Maybe Cas was Dean’s air, and he just needed to take a deep breath to steady himself.

Cas gaze softened yet his eyebrows scrunched together adorably as if he were sifting through a million things he could say. “I like your cooking.”

“That’s not something about you,” Dean said with a frown, even though something deep in his mind was attempting to wiggle free; a hazy memory of cooking with Cas late at night, a wavering image of pasta..

Cas laughed softly, his eyes crinkling with the movement. Dean’s heart skipped a beat.

“Alright. Well, I don’t need to eat. Not like humans do. But you cook this pasta dish, chicken pesto pasta. You pretend it’s some fancy recipe even though it’s something you found on the internet. It’s my favorite meal,” Cas said, a soft spark gleaming in his eyes.

Leaning closer, Dean watched that sparkle glimmer in Cas’ eyes and he couldn’t stop the smile that crept across his face. “Tell me more.”

“I like reading when you and Sam sleep at night. Books, newspapers, articles. I just… I like reading,” Cas admitted quietly.

“Pasta. Reading. You like pasta I cook and you like reading. See, I can remember the things you’re telling me,” Dean said with a grin.

Cas’ eyes melted; a tender look softening his features as his hand settled inches away from Dean’s knee.

“Keep going,” Dean urged.

“Storms. I like storms. I like the way the earth smells when it’s raining and the way the molecules in the atmosphere change as lightning strikes,” Cas said. He paused for a second, a flicker of a memory darting across his face. “We watched a storm together a few weeks ago.”

“We did?”

Nodding, Cas took a deep breath and got this far-away look in his eyes as if he were reliving the moment. “We were heading back to the- back home. We were driving home, and this storm came out of nowhere. You pulled off onto the side of the road and we sat watching the storm. You knew I liked watching the rain, and we just talked as the thunder crashed; joked about standing out in the rain even though it was a downpour.”

“You like storms. Storms and… and… you like storms and books?” Dean repeated slowly, the words slipping through his fingers before he could hold onto them.

“Yeah, Dean. Yeah,” Cas said, voice incredibly soft even though his eyes looked sorrowful.

Shifting his leg, Dean nudged Cas with his knee. “What else?”

“I’m particularly fond of bees. You and Sam find that quite entertaining and you occasionally pick up things with bees on them to give to me. There’s a bee mug at home. You got it for me at a thrift shop. I drink tea from it every morning.”

“You like bees. And tea,” Dean said quietly, watching Cas’ expression carefully; waiting for Cas to smile at him. And Cas did, warm and beautiful.

Dean wanted to ask more, but a yawn crept its way through his chest, and he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Maybe you should get some sleep,” Cas suggested, moving to stand from the bed.

Dean’s eyes darted up, startled by the movement. “Where are you going?” 

Cas pointed to the other bed, motioning to some kind of material draped over the end. Cas saw the confusion on Dean’s face, and he slowed his movements. “Blanket,” he said, slowly picking up the item. “So you can be warm.”

“Oh. Right. And uh, this is a…” he trailed off, looking at the white mound at the top of the bed.

“Pillow,” Cas said, gently easing Dean down by his shoulder. “You put your head on the pillow. I put the blanket over you. And then you close your eyes and go to sleep.”

Following Cas’ instructions, Dean closed his eyes and settled for all of two seconds before his eyes blinked open.

“Where will you be?” he asked, a hint of concern creeping up his throat.

“I’ll be right here, Dean,” Cas said, pulling something towards the edge of the bed. “I’ll be right here, sitting in this chair,” he motioned to the object. “And I’ll be watching over you.”

Something loosened in Dean’s chest; the ball of fear untangling as his eyes fluttered shut again. As if having Cas watch over him felt right; almost natural. Something that had happened before.

“Your name is Cas,” Dean whispered into the room. “Your name is Cas, and you’re my best friend.”

“Yes, Dean. I’m your best friend,” Cas repeated; gentle yet firm. A reminder. A reassurance. A constant.

~~~

Cas

Cas watched Dean sleep, and for just a few minutes, he convinced himself that everything was normal. Or, well, normal by their standards. Just another night where Cas subtly kept flickering his gaze over to Dean as he slept just because he could. He liked the way Dean relaxed; looking peaceful in his slumber. Cas swore Dean looked even more beautiful when he slept. Stress lines smoothed out and hair messily draped over his forehead. Cas constantly had to fight the desire to reach out and brush the hair from Dean’s forehead as he slept. Soft little snores that were far too cute, and his nose pressed into the pillow as he lay comfortably on his stomach. Just a few hours every day that Dean wasn’t worrying about something. It was as if the weight of the world was lifted from his shoulders.

Dean’s eyes blinked open slowly and locked on Cas. For just a second, Cas expected their normal routine, and the words left his mouth before he realized.

“Want some coffee?”

It wasn’t even a question. Not really. Because Dean always said something along the lines of, “Yeah, sunshine, coffee sounds good.” And Cas knew exactly how Dean liked his coffee in the morning. It was easy. A routine that was just theirs.

“Who are you?” Dean demanded, shooting up in the bed, hand fumbling instinctively for a weapon he didn’t know he was looking for.

Oh. 

The spell. 

Cas felt an ache burn up his throat and his lungs seized in his chest. Dean couldn’t remember him. Everything they’d talked about before Dean fell asleep was gone.

The urge to tear his heart from his vessel was so strong Cas felt like he couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t Dean’s fault, but the flash of pain was agonizing, searing through his nerves in the instant he realized Dean forgot.

But he had to be stable. He was here to offer comfort to Dean and be a reassuring presence. Even if it meant putting his own feelings aside. This wasn’t about him. And there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for Dean.

Putting his hands up to show he wasn’t a threat, Cas said softly, “I’m Cas. I’m your best friend.”

Cas watched as Dean’s expression shifted; catalogued the way Dean mouthed the name to himself before saying it out loud.

“Cas.” Dean frowned in concentration. “Cas. You- you… you like bees. And tea.”

Everything froze, and Cas felt the air stutter out of his lungs. Dean remembered him? Was there something else that had stuck in Dean's head? Cas’ head was spinning with thoughts, desperate to feel that connection they’d always shared. 

That was the spark of his Dean. His Dean who found quirky things with bees just because it made Cas smile. His Dean who spent movie nights with his head resting against Cas’ shoulder while he offered Cas his popcorn. That was the Dean that Cas had fallen for both physically and emotionally a long time ago. A surge of hope cascaded down Cas’ spine and he felt a breath of relief rush out. “Yes. Yes, Dean. I do.”

“Why do I know that you like those things but not who you are?” Dean asked cautiously.

Small win. Dean remembered something. There was still hope, right? Those were the last things he’d said about himself before Dean slept. And that was something to hold on to.

“You were cursed. Sam’s fixing it,” Cas said gently, keeping it as straight to the point as possible.

“Sam? My brother?” Dean asked, then, a second later, “I was cursed?”

Nodding, Cas eased back into the chair he’d spent the last few hours in. “Yeah. An unfortunate run-in with a witch. And yes, your brother is working on the case. We’re just going to wait here and-” Cas broke off as Dean’s stomach rumbled. “Hungry?” he asked with a huff of laughter.

Humming vaguely, Dean glanced down at his hands. “I can’t remember when I last ate. Or what I… or what I like to eat?”

Oh, that was easy. “Bacon cheeseburger, a slice of pie, and a milkshake.” The number of times he’d ordered for Dean over the years, Cas could recite what Dean wanted even if he were unconscious.

Dean’s head snapped up, eyes catching Cas’ as he smiled widely. “Yeah that- that sounds really good.”

A spark of normalcy settled in Cas’ chest. This was something they’d done a hundred times. Going to diners and Cas ordering the same thing Dean did mostly because it meant Dean would steal from his plate. And Cas liked that; liked letting Dean think he was stealing a fry or a bite of burger. Cas just saw it as sharing. Almost like a date. The closest Cas would ever get.

“I can take you to get one if you want? There’s a diner just a few minutes away,” Cas offered, watching Dean’s expression carefully.

“A diner?” Dean repeated, tilting his head in a move that seemed to copy exactly what he teased Cas for doing all the time. 

The action made Cas smile to himself. ‘See, Dean, you tilt your head, too. Except it’s more adorable when you do it,’ Cas thought to himself.

“It’s your favorite type of place to eat. Greasy burgers and 70s music. The definition of your personality,” Cas teased. A second later he realized Dean might not get that he was teasing. “I’m sorry, that was a joke.”

Dean quirked a smile, eyelashes fluttering against his cheek as he grinned at Cas. “You’re funny.”

Snorting a laugh, Cas got up from his chair and nudged Dean’s boots towards him. “You’ve always told me my humor is too dry.”

This time Dean shook his head as he picked up his shoe. “I like it,” he said as he turned the shoe over and over in his hand. “What do I do with this?”

“Typically shoes go on your feet,” Cas said, gently knocking his shoed-foot against Dean’s socked-feet. He didn’t want Dean feeling like Cas was infantilizing him by guiding him through everything, but he could still take care of him and teach him things, right?

He watched Dean slide the shoes on before he fiddled with the laces in confusion. “Cas?”

A surge of warmth settled around Cas’ heart. “Do you want some help?”

When Dean nodded, Cas dropped down onto his knee and tied both of Dean’s boots in slow motions, allowing Dean to watch the movements as he created the loops and tied them into bows. Once he was done, he tapped the toe of Dean’s boot and stood up slowly. 

“Sam texted and said he’d be back with Rowena in about an hour so we’ll bring them back some food,” Cas said, picking up his truck keys and motioning for Dean to follow.

“Who’s Rowena? That’s a weird name.”

Opening the motel door, Cas guided Dean towards his passenger side of the pickup. “She’s a witch. Sometimes she’s on our side and sorta helps out. Mostly if there’s something in it for her. Got a bit of a soft spot for Sam, I think,” Cas said, reaching out to open the passenger door. Dean blinked in surprise, looking into the truck and then looking at Cas.

“Did you just… did you open the door for me?” Dean asked, eyes flickering across Cas’ face before lingering on Cas’ lips. 

Oh. There was that look Dean usually gave him. The one that sparked butterflies fluttering in Cas’ stomach. Cas resisted the urge to bite at his lip, instead fiddling with the door handle.

“I did. Is there something wrong with that?” Cas asked. Had he offended Dean by opening the door? 

A soft chuckle startled Cas from his fiddling, and he looked up to see a fond smile on Dean’s face. “No, nothing wrong with it. S’ kinda romantic,” Dean said, climbing up into the truck before Cas could process what he’d said.

Romantic? Dean thought that opening the car door for him was romantic? Romantic as in Dean liked it? Or romantic as in Cas should be running the other way because he was getting dangerously close to projecting his own feelings?

When they fixed him, would Dean remember that Cas had held the door for him? Would Dean remember the way Cas talked about his cooking or how he said he’d watch over him while he slept? 

“You taking me for dinner or not, handsome?” Dean asked, once again shocking Cas from his runaway train of thoughts.

“Yeah. Yeah I am,” Cas said, trying desperately to ignore the way his heart stuttered in his chest at Dean calling him handsome.

Maybe, just this once, Cas could pretend this really was a date. 

And just this once, he could pretend that Dean was falling in love with him, too.

~~~

Cas

Cas glanced over to Dean in the passenger seat as they pulled up to the diner and caught his gaze. Dean smiled at him, genuine and happy, and Cas felt his heart skip a beat. 

Dean really was beautiful. With the moonlight casting a silver glow across his face, and the green of his eyes sparkling as the streetlights gleamed above them, Dean was breathtaking. How was Cas not supposed to fall in love with him over and over again every single day?

Getting out of the truck, Cas moved around to the passenger side and opened Dean’s door.

“Such a gentleman,” Dean said, stepping out and standing next to Cas until their arms brushed from shoulder to wrist. 

Cas shuddered, every molecule of his being yearning to reach out and intertwine their fingers and press his palm to Dean’s. Standing this close was dizzying. It always was. Anytime Dean got this close Cas wanted to press their foreheads together and steal a kiss. He couldn’t. But he wanted it; to the point it was all-consuming. 

“You’re very romantic. It’s almost like we’re dating.” Dean paused, eyes going wide as he flickered his gaze over Cas’ lips and then up to his eyes. “Are we dating?”

“No,” Cas whispered, the word like ash on his tongue, burning his throat like sandpaper. “We aren’t dating.” But the words were hovering right there. ‘I wish we were.’ But he couldn’t. He couldn’t say that. Not when Dean wouldn’t remember. Not when Dean might actually remember. It wasn’t worth it. But oh how he ached to say yes. To see how Dean would react. Would he kiss him right here in the parking lot? Would he link their hands together like Cas had just been thinking about. Would he be disgusted by the thought and shut Cas out?

Pulling away from Dean so they weren’t pressed together anymore was the only thing Cas could do, and yet the cold imprint that seeped in when they weren’t touching ached all the way to Cas’ bones.

Dean glanced at him, blinking a couple times as he looked at the space between them before frowning slightly. “Why’d you pull away?” Dean asked, quiet and low.

Nope. Cas absolutely could not do this right now.

“Gotta get you food, don’t I?” Cas asked, sidestepping the question with one of his own. As if on cue, Dean’s stomach grumbled again and they both laughed despite the crackling tension between them. “Do you want to eat in the diner? Or out here?”

Dean looked up at the night sky and smiled. “It’s nice out here. I like it.”

Dean’s shoulders relaxed as he gazed at the stars, and something in Cas’ mind felt a twinge of deja vu. It almost felt like looking in a mirror, because that same peace that Dean was feeling now was exactly how Cas felt every time he looked at Dean. A rush of affection and contentment.

Cas was projecting again. He really needed to get his emotions under control.

Just because there was a chance Dean wouldn’t remember all of this… 

No. He couldn’t risk Dean knowing he was in love with him.

“Outside it is. Here,” Cas said, guiding Dean to one of the tables and sliding a hand onto Dean’s shoulder to ease him down into the chair. “I need you to stay here, alright? Don’t move. Stay right here while I get the food.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dean agreed, tipping his head back until his eyes met Cas’.

Cas hesitated for a moment and glanced into the diner window. The service counter was only fifty feet away. He’d be gone for five minutes, and he could watch out the window to make sure Dean didn’t wander off. Plus, Dean needed to eat something, and he’d chosen to sit outside. Nothing bad was going to happen.

Decision made, Cas took two steps away from the table but stopped again as he saw Dean shiver. Oh, right.

“Are you cold?” Cas asked, stepping back next to Dean again, moving to graze a finger over Dean’s forehead.

“Only when you leave,” Dean admitted, before quickly shaking his head. “I’m fine. I want to eat out here.”

There was that Winchester stubbornness he knew all too well. But how could he deny Dean anything he wanted? Especially now? What was one simple pleasure in the grand scheme of things?

And then Dean’s words from earlier burst back into his head. ‘Romantic.’ ‘Dating.’

It was a slippery slope, but Cas was already sliding down. What was one more gesture? 

Easing the trenchcoat from his arms, he gently draped the coat around Dean’s shoulders, transferring its warmth to Dean.

“Is that better?” Cas asked.

Humming softly, Dean tipped his head down until he was resting his cheek in the collar of the trenchcoat. “Yeah, it’s nice and warm,” Dean admitted, breath coming out in a content sigh.

Wasn’t that a sight? Dean wrapped up in his trenchcoat. Something Cas had envisioned a thousand times before. But this was so much more. The way Dean slipped his arms into the sleeves before tugging the lapels closer. How Dean slipped his hands into the pockets, grinning as he traced fingertips over the ridiculous things Cas kept close at all times like his bee keychain and a diner napkin with a note Dean had written him years ago and a picture of Dean and Sam as a reminder of who his family is.

It was like seeing a piece of himself resting right there against Dean’s heart. Something he treasured being worn by the one person in this world that Cas loved.

It was enough to make Cas feel weak in the knees. Bright green eyes contrasted against the worn-down brown of the coat. Dean’s tender smile, as if nothing in the world could make him happier than wearing Cas’ coat.

It was too much.

“I’ll be right back, okay? Bacon cheeseburger, slice of pie, and a milkshake, just like you like,” Cas said, both as a reminder and a reassurance.

He waited for Dean to nod, but what he wasn’t expecting was for Dean to reach out and brush his fingertips along the inside of his wrist. The touch was both gentle and sweet. “Okay,” Dean said with a soft smile and nod, touch still lingering against Cas’ skin. 

The urge to lean down and press a quick kiss to Dean’s lips was unbearable. How easy would it be? To just close the gap? To finally brush their lips together?

Squeezing his eyes shut, Cas slammed those thoughts to the back of his mind. Pulling away from Dean, he patted the hunter’s shoulder and turned away.

Each step towards the diner ached and he yearned to give in to the gravitational pull he’d been fighting for years. Just keep resisting. Just keep resisting. Just keep resisting. The mantra got him up to the counter to order the food.

Dean wouldn’t remember. Maybe Dean would remember. No, he wouldn’t. But maybe he would. 

Cas had been able to hold onto these feelings for years without letting them slip. Why now? Why was he this close to breaking now? And why did it feel like maybe, just maybe, there was a spark of hope? Dean’s lingering touches and calling Cas romantic. Why did it feel like they were closer than ever to falling into each other’s orbit and yet further than ever from admitting their truths?

Picking up their order a few minutes later, Cas caught sight of Dean still sitting at their table with his nose pressed into the trenchcoat and a small smile on his face. If there was ever a sight that had Cas’ heart skipping a beat or two, that was it right there. Dean wearing his coat. Almost as if they were together; sharing clothes.

Walking towards the door, still keeping his eyes on Dean, Cas made it several steps forward before something yanked him to a startling stop. The food wobbled dangerously in his hands, and he valiantly attempted to not drop the tray. A weird tug started down his spine, sparking his weak tendrils of Grace on fire. What the…? Darting his eyes around, Cas desperately tried to see if something was happening to anyone else around him, but the diner was empty besides him and Dean.

He tried to take another step towards Dean, towards the safety of outside, but his feet felt like they were frozen to the ground. Dean’s name was on the tip of his tongue, but everything started to feel fuzzy and static. A pounding sensation lurched in his head, quickly wrapping around every wavelength of his body until he felt like he was being bound. Reaching out for his powers, everything halted; as if something had thrown a cover over the pouring source he usually tapped into. He took a stumbling step sideways towards a door marked Employees Only, eyes searching around to find his attacker.

The tray of food clattered to the ground, and he fumbled, attempting to yank his angel blade from his sleeve. But his fingers wouldn’t follow through with the motion.

No blade. No powers. Just an invisible force wrapping around his body, like a boa constrictor squeezing its prey.

He tried to catch himself on the doorframe, but he couldn’t make his arms move quick enough and he slipped down to the ground, cracking his head against the wall with a sickening thump.

As his vision blurred, the world spinning as his head ached from the impact, he caught sight of a glyph painted blood red on the door. Witches were here. 

Dean.

He had to get back to Dean.

Had to protect him. Had to keep the witches away from him before they killed him.

Attempting to stand up, Cas wobbled on weak legs as he fought against the unseen forces trying to drag him back down.

One step. Two steps. Dean. Dean.

Darkness.

~~~

Dean

“Dean?”

Dean looked up from the table where he’d been tracing his fingers over a picture of himself and Sam that he’d found in the trenchcoat pocket. Why was there a picture of them? Why did Cas have this and why did it make Dean’s heart race? “Hey,” he said as Sam walked up beside him.

“What are you doing out here? Are you… are you wearing Cas’ trenchcoat?” Sam asked, his gaze lingering on the faded brown coat wrapped Dean’s shoulders.

Dean tugged at the sleeve of the coat. “Yes. It’s very warm and it smells nice,” Dean said, pressing his nose into the collar and drawing in a deep breath. When he glanced up again, Sam was looking at him with a strange expression. 

Dean tipped his head, scrunching his eyebrows as he squinted at Sam. “What?” he asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Sam looked at the trenchcoat again, as if he were working out a puzzle, although Dean didn’t understand what was so significant about him wearing the coat. “Cas gave you the trenchcoat to wear?”

“Yes. I said it was cold when he left, and he gave me the trenchcoat,” Dean explained, still tilting his head at Sam in confusion.

Whatever puzzle Sam had been working out must’ve been solved, because he gave Dean a look of surprise, letting out a quiet, “ Oh .”

“What?” Dean repeated, blinking a couple times before looking at the woman standing behind Sam. When had she shown up? Had he seen her before? Her hair was very red and bouncy. “Who’re you?”

“Rowena,” the red-haired woman answered with a gleaming smile, spoken at the same time as Sam said, “Oh, um, nothing.”

Dean frowned, darting his eyes between his brother and Rowena. He caught the look on Sam’s face; a look that said Sam was reevaluating everything. As if his brother had come across a startling realization that redefined everything. Dean was about to ask what was going on, he really was, but then Sam must’ve realized something else.

“Dean? Where’s Cas?” Sam asked, spinning around and scanning the area.

“He went to get food,” Dean replied, motioning towards the… what was it called? Place where food was made… something about a pie, right? “He told me to wait here. He kept repeating it like it was important before he left. That’s all… that’s all I can remember.” There was more. Dean was sure there had been more. A look maybe? A touch? A tone that had made Dean feel like he was floating. But it was all slipping away, and the harder he tried to grasp those thoughts, the quicker they vanished.

“He told me you were going to get food an hour ago. We thought you’d be back at the motel by now.” Sam scanned the parking lot again, eyes lingering on Cas’ truck before settling on Dean. “How long has Cas been gone, Dean?”

Dean opened his mouth to reply, and then shook his head.The memory had slipped through his fingers. Cas was there. And then he was gone. How long had he been sitting here? “I-I don’t know.”

“Rowena, stay here. I’ll be right back,” Sam said, quickly walking away and towards the door of the food place. 

Rowena smiled at Dean, eyeing him up and down. “The handsome Angel gave you his jacket, did he?” she asked with a little smirk.

Dean dipped his hand back into the pocket, fingers brushing against the little bee keychain he’d found earlier. Cas liked bees… didn’t he? Something about bees and… bees and… mugs? No. That wasn’t right. Why couldn’t he remember?

By the time Dean glanced up to Rowena after unsuccessfully attempting to find the missing word, Sam was rushing back towards them. “There’s another glyph in the diner. I can’t find Cas anywhere. He must’ve been taken by the witches.”

“Where is he?” Dean asked, something winding around his lungs making it hard to breathe. “Why does my chest hurt so much?” Dean said, eyes darting to Sam helplessly.

“Your chest? Dean I don’t understand what that-” Sam started to say.

Rowena laughed, nudging Dean with a wink. “Oh the feelings are reciprocated, are they? The sting of worrying about someone when you’re madly in love,” she teased, eyes bright as she looked over at Sam.

“Rowena, shut up,” Sam muttered, but it was too late; she’d already caught Dean’s attention.

“What do you mean? What sting?” Dean asked, looking to Rowena for guidance. What had she meant by being madly in love? Who was in love? And what did any of that have to do with the ache in his chest when he’d heard Cas was gone?

Rowena shifted forward until her hair was tickling against Dean’s cheek, and she patted Dean’s knee with a grin before leaning in to whisper in his ear. “You, my dear boy, are in love.”

Before she could elaborate, Sam interrupted the moment with a sharp, “Rowena! Now is not the time.”

But Dean could barely hear whatever Sam and Rowena were arguing about, because Rowena’s words were on a loop in his head. He was in love? Is that what that fluttering feeling was in his chest whenever Cas looked at him? Was that why Cas’ coat felt so warm around his shoulders?

He opened his mouth, about to ask Sam if it was true. Was he really in love with Cas? Because he wanted it to be true. Oh, he wanted it so badly. 

But Sam was urging them towards the motel before Dean could find the words he was searching for. “Are you sure that house we found earlier is the Loughlin family house?” Sam asked, directing his question at Rowena.

“Yes, of course I’m sure, Samuel. That kind of magic is obvious to any other witches in the vicinity,” Rowena replied.

“Great. Take Dean back to the motel and wait there. I’ll go and rescue Cas and find the book that’ll reverse the spell on Dean.”

“The Black Grimoire is a very powerful book written in an archaic form of Celtic. You won’t know how to read it to find the right spell. Nor will you convince the witches to just hand over the spell to fix your brother.”

“That’s what this is for,” Sam said, pulling his gun from his waistband.

Briefly, Dean wondered what was so special about that gun. How was that going to stop the witches?

“I don’t trust you anywhere near a book that powerful. Go back to the motel,” Sam said, his tone leaving no room for arguments.

Dean watched the back and forth between them, darting his gaze to Sam and then to Rowena and back to Sam. Hadn’t Cas said something earlier? Something about Rowena having a soft spot for Sam? Is that why they were bickering like that?

Finally, Sam looked at him, and there was something in his expression that Dean understood. Even with his memory slipping away, he knew Sam had his back. ‘I’ve got you’ the look said, and Dean trusted him. “I’ll bring him back, Dean. I’ll rescue Cas and reverse the curse.”

As Rowena guided them back to the motel, Dean’s stomach lurched and his hands began to shake. Why did it feel like he was about to lose more than just himself?

~~~

Sam

Creeping around the front of the estate he and Rowena had discovered earlier, Sam shifted his gun into his hand. Typical that not only was Dean in trouble, but now Cas was too. God, those two really were a pair. 

Except now, that wasn’t just a saying.

There was something there between them, Sam was sure of it.

Cas giving Dean his trenchcoat and the tender way Sam had seen the angel taking care of Dean throughout the curse. The way Dean was flirting with Cas, calling him handsome and pretty, and staring at him with cartoon heart eyes.

How had he not seen it sooner? Better yet, how had neither of them seen it sooner? The two of them might as well be walking around with tattoos on their foreheads that said they were completely gone on each other.

‘Focus, Sam. Break the curse first, figure out whatever unspoken pining has been  going on between Dean and Cas later,’ Sam thought to himself.

Sneaking up on the lone guy guarding the front of the house, Sam raised his gun to the man’s temple. “Are the Loughlins inside?” Sam asked, clicking the safety on the gun just to add an air of intimidation. The man nodded. Good, that was all the information he needed. Pulling the gun back, Sam pistol-whipped the man; watching as he crumpled to the ground unconscious. One down, two to go.

Making his way to the front door, Sam snuck into the house and pulled out his phone. Oh, how he hoped this plan would work. He’d spent the better part of two hours arguing back and forth with Rowena on what would be the best way to break the curse. Mostly because she was adamant on being there to help, and Sam didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her. So they’d settled on the rather risky plan of attempting to convince the Loughlins to tell them which one was the reversal spell and then Rowena would perform the spell in the motel in order to save Dean. Now there was also the added part of finding Cas in this massive mansion too, but Sam had taken on more and come out on top, so he could do it again.

Pressing Rowena’s contact, Sam was thankful that she picked up on the first ring.

“You’re in?” she asked, her voice a little too loud.

“Shush. Yeah, I made it in. Gonna get the translation for the curse first and then find Cas. As soon as I get it, you reverse the spell while I get Cas,” Sam whispered. He slid his phone back into his pocket and crept through the house in search of the Loughlins or any sign of Cas.

God, this plan needed to work. Dean was slipping; his memories getting worse and worse. Somehow, the only thing his brother seemed to be grasping onto was Cas. Whatever was going on between them was keeping Dean alive, and Sam was more than grateful for that.

Sam pushed a door open, cringing as it creaked; the sound echoing down the hall. Empty.

He knew, especially after the way Rowena looked at him when they found Dean at the diner, that time was running out. If they didn’t act fast, Dean was going to die. And now maybe Cas was going to die, too.

Truly, Sam really did want just one single hunt where their lives weren't in jeopardy. One case where they weren’t racing against the clock in order to stay alive.

Pushing several more doors open, Sam was greeted with nothing but empty rooms and squeaky floorboards. Why was every hunt like this? Why couldn’t the bad guys just be in the first room he searched?

Sam headed upstairs and checked several more rooms, each as deserted as the last. Goddammit. Could he please just catch a break?

Beginning to lose hope, he eased open another door, this one at the end of the hall. Sam caught a sigh of relief in his throat as he saw a blonde-haired woman, Catriona, sitting at a desk in the middle of the room holding a pair of tweezers as she fiddled with something. The dead body of the witch Dean had killed lying motionless just a few feet away. That was just plain creepy.

Witches. God they really were the worst.

Moving into the room, Sam kept his gun raised and ready to shoot. “This gun is loaded with witch-killing bullets,” Sam announced as he stepped closer to Catriona. “So I suggest you run over to that grimoire of yours and tell me the spell to reverse the memory curse.”

Oh boy, this was absolutely not going to work. What the hell had he gotten himself in to?

“We knew you’d come,” Catriona said, completely unfazed by his presence. “Hunters do what hunters do best. Hunt us down like the filthy animals you are. But it makes our job so much easier if we don’t have to come looking for you to finish off the spell,” Catriona drawled, placing subtle emphasis on the word ‘we’. She barely even looked over at Sam as she continued whatever she’d been doing before he snuck in, as if she were bored by his presence.

Her cocky attitude made Sam’s skin crawl. It was going to feel good to put one of his witch-killing bullets right between her eyes. Retribution for almost killing Dean and for kidnapping Cas.

“I’m not asking a second time. Give me the spell,” Sam said in a low growl, taking another step forward.

And really, he should’ve been listening to her.

One second he was inches away from Catriona, and the next he was hurled backwards against a bookcase as the other Loughlin witch stormed into the room. There was the detail he’d blatantly missed. ‘We.’

Everything went black for a second as he collapsed to the floor; the room spinning. What was it with witches and the need to hurl people around with invisible forces? He tried to get up, his mind reeling with the need to get that spell.

But his racing thoughts were cut short as Catriona started to chant. Pain exploded in Sam’s head as a high pitched whine burst through his eardrums and ricocheted around his head. He threw his hands up to cover his ears, but it didn’t work.

The screeching got louder and louder, and Sam screamed. The decibels felt like they were tearing his head to pieces. 

Blood dripped from his ears as the agonizing torrent ripped through him. Everything felt like it was shattering around him, and he swore it felt like his skull was going to crack apart until there was nothing left.

“Sam!” Dean’s voice echoed through the phone, startled and afraid. But Sam could barely hear it as the spell reached its crescendo.

He could’ve sworn he’d heard Rowena’s voice too, but the words were drowned out as the shrill noises vibrated through his head until he was dragged down into unconsciousness.

~~~

Cas

Cas watched from the chair he was stuck in as Sam slowly stirred. Just their luck that somehow Sam was also trapped here. And it meant they were out of luck when it came to a rescue. Unless Rowena was feeling charitable, they were well and truly on their own. “Sam?” Cas called, trying not to startle him.

“Cas? That you?” Sam asked after a moment.

“Yes. I guess you’ve also found yourself in this unfortunate position,” Cas replied, eyeing the circle of holy fire that was keeping him trapped. He wished he could see whatever magic the witches had used to keep him tied to this chair in the center of the fire. Witches really were the worst. Now he understood what Dean meant when he said how much he hated them.

“You could say that,” Sam muttered, tilting his head until he finally was able to see Cas. “Holy fire?”

Cas gave a sharp nod, silently sending out a curse or two to whoever had invented holy oil and fire as a way to trap angels. But his thoughts quickly turned back to the only thing he’d been thinking of since he’d found himself captured. “Where’s Dean?” he asked. ‘Don’t say dead. Don’t you dare say dead.’

“With Rowena at the motel, I think,” Sam said.

Cas let out a heaving sigh of relief; the knot his heart had twisted itself into loosening just a fraction. Dean was alive. There was still a small spark of hope that they could save him.

“She was supposed to reverse the curse once I got the spell, but that didn’t exactly happen,” Sam said, dropping his head forward and sucking in a pained breath. “What happened to you?”

“They came for me as I was getting Dean’s burger,” Cas admitted, and wasn’t that pathetic? He was supposed to be an angel, and yet he’d been overpowered by a couple of witches. He’d once again failed at protecting Dean. The only thing that mattered and he’d let Dean down for the millionth time.

Sam let out a huff, tipping his head back against the chair. “He sat waiting for you, you know? Didn’t move from the table outside the diner. You must’ve done something right for him to remember that you’d told him to stay.”

Cas doubted that. He could barely do anything right, especially when it came to Dean. He couldn’t even be a decent friend, because he’d just gone and managed to fall in love with Dean instead of merely watching over him and protecting him.

They lapsed into silence for a minute as Sam started the fruitless task of trying to tug his hands free from the ropes he was bound by. But then he stopped, casting his eyes over to Cas as though he were debating something. “When we found Dean at the diner, he was wearing your trenchcoat,” Sam said, raising an eyebrow curiously.

Cas shrugged as much as his restraints would allow. Just because Sam had noticed that didn’t mean anything. “He said he was cold,” Cas replied. “I don’t feel the temperature, so I gave him the trenchcoat.” He just didn’t want Dean getting sick, that was all. Sam would buy that, wouldn’t he?

“People don’t just give their coats to their best friend,” Sam said, voice almost fond as their eyes met. “They give it to someone they love.”

Cas felt like the floor had disappeared from beneath him and he felt that distinct motion of falling all over again. Sam knew. Oh Heaven and Hell. Sam knew how he felt.

“Sam I-” Cas trailed off. He wasn’t even sure how to start that sentence. Or how to finish it. Was there even a right way to have this conversation? Just blurting it out didn’t exactly sound like a pleasant idea.

“You love him, don’t you?” Sam asked. The question lingered in the space between them, and Cas wished they were anywhere else but trapped in a witches house.

How could he deny it? How could he admit it? How could he ever walk out of this room and pretend he wasn’t wearing his heart on his sleeve when it came to Dean? But it was too late now. He’d already played his hand. Already shown how he felt when he gave Dean his trenchcoat.

‘Romantic,’ Dean had said, pressing his nose into the collar of the coat and smiling at Cas.

‘Are we dating?’ Dean had asked, and Cas’ answer clung to every chamber of his heart.

No, but I wish we were.

“Yes,” Cas whispered, letting the words he’d never thought he’d say out loud slip into the space between him and the brother of the man he loved. “I love him.”

He couldn’t bear to look at Sam. Couldn’t bear to see the anger or the hatred or possibly the disgust. So instead, he let his next words come out in a rush.

“But I know. I know Dean doesn’t… he isn’t interested. It’s not mutual, and that’s okay. Dean’s my best friend. I’d rather-” Cas trailed off for a second, taking a deep breath. “I’d rather have him as my best friend than not have him at all.” And that was the truth. Because the thought of living a life without Dean by his side was unbearable. So if that meant Cas had to stew in his unrequited love, then that’s what he’d do. 

There was a moment of silence, and every worst case scenario flooded through Cas’ mind. He’d lose Sam as a friend and as a brother. He was about to lose the only man he’d ever loved and it wouldn’t even be because of the curse; it would be because he’d gone and messed up the only good thing he’d ever had. All because he’d gone and fallen in love with the human he’d saved all those years ago.

Except… Sam wasn’t angry. He wasn’t disgusted. Instead Sam was… was he laughing? Why the hell was he laughing?

“You two-” Sam said, looking over at Cas and shaking his head fondly as he laughed again. “You two are the most oblivious idiots I have ever met.”

What? What was Sam talking about? Oblivious? Wasn’t Sam the oblivious one here for only just now noticing that Cas was in love with Dean?

“I don’t understand,” Cas said, tilting his head as he looked at Sam in confusion.

Sam let out a sound of disbelief. “You two even copy each other’s mannerisms and you’re telling me you have no idea?”

“Sam,” Cas pushed, starting to get exasperated. None of this conversation made any sense. Cas had just admitted his truth and now Sam was mocking him for it?

“Cas, I’m pretty damn sure it’s mutual. Based on all this, I think Dean’s been pining after you for years.”

~~~

Dean

Dean blinked awake, startling from his slouched position on the bed; unsure of when exactly he’d drifted off to sleep. He was alone in the motel room; just the weird bowls and glass storage things remaining from where the red-haired woman had been earlier before she’d left. Where had she gone? There had been a phone call. Someone was in danger, but Dean couldn’t remember what else had happened or where exactly the red-head had said she was going.

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, he brushed his hand over his face. Wait, something was stuck to his forehead. What was that?

Peeling the paper from his face, Dean looked at the yellow note.

“Gone to rescue your handsome boyfriend and your brother from the witches,” Dean read the note out loud. But he paused a second later, re-reading the note for a second time. “Boyfriend?” he repeated, tracing his finger over the word. He had a boyfriend? Why couldn’t he remember having a boyfriend? 

Turning his head, he caught sight of another note stuck to the pillow by his head. ‘Stay,’ the note read.

Dean frowned. 

That didn’t sound right at all. Why should he stay here? If his boyfriend and his brother were in trouble, shouldn’t he help? 

Dean stood and stumbled towards the door, only to see another note stuck to it. “I knew you wouldn’t stay. Go outside to your stupid car,” Dean read before tilting his head. “My car isn’t stupid,” he mumbled, opening the door of the motel and seeing the Impala parked right in front of the room.

He plucked the next note from the windshield. ‘Go to the trunk at the back of the car.’ Dean followed the instructions, lifting the trunk up and seeing yet another note that read, ‘open me’ inside the trunk itself.

Lifting up the latch, Dean sucked in a sharp breath of surprise. Weapons. Lots of them; all nicely stored in little compartments. “Woah, cool!” Dean said to himself, reaching out and tracing his hands over several of the guns.

There were several more notes stuck to the weapons, most reading ‘no’ and ‘absolutely not’ in bold letters. 

Finally, Dean found a note with a massive arrow that read ‘witch killing bullets’ followed by another arrow pointing to a gun with a post-it that said ‘use this gun!’

Picking up the gun, Dean loaded the bullets into the chamber without any hesitation. “How did I know how to do that?” Dean asked out loud, holding the weapon in his hand. How many other things was he doing on autopilot? Did he even know how to shoot a gun?

There was another collection of post-it notes underneath the gun.

“Follow these directions carefully,” he read slowly. “The house you are looking for is a 5 minutes walk. Follow the road from the motel. You’ll see a large sign for a diner. Keep walking. There’s a gas station at the end of the road. Turn left and continue to follow the gravel road towards the woods. There’s a big dark house along that gravel road. That’s the house you want. Walk into the front door and you’ll find us.”

Dean re-read the note once, twice, three times, then pushed it into the coat pocket. Wait, where did this coat come from? Why was it so warm and why did it smell so good? Dean frowned for a second, tracing his fingers over the sleeves. It felt familiar and comfortable. Safe. Even though he couldn’t remember anything about the coat, he liked it. Maybe he could keep it.

Shaking his head, he forced himself to focus. Follow the post-it notes.

Closing the trunk, Dean pulled out the note again and looked down the road. “Follow the road from the motel,” he repeated, starting his way down the path. As he walked, his mind wandered back to the first note that he’d found stuck to his forehead.

Boyfriend.

Did he really have a boyfriend? Was that who’s coat this was? Was he wearing his boyfriend’s clothes? Something about that thought made Dean feel like he was surrounded by warmth. Yeah. That felt right.

No wonder the coat smelt like Heaven.

Dean spent the rest of the walk thinking about bright blue eyes and beautiful bow lips even though he couldn’t quite remember who they belonged to.

Reaching the house a few minutes later, Dean paused. What was he supposed to do now? And why was there an unconscious man collapsed on the driveway? Dean squinted down at the man, but nothing about him looked familiar. That couldn’t be who he was here to save, right?

Reaching into his pockets, Dean pulled out the little yellow notes he’d collected, looking through each one until he found instructions on what to do next.

‘When you get to the house, walk in with your gun raised and be ready to kill a witch. Don’t forget the witch killing bullets. And don't shoot the pretty red-head!’

Right. He could do that. Walk into the house. Gun ready with the bullets. Shoot the witches. Walk into the house. Gun ready with the bullets. Shoot the witches. Don’t shoot the red-head. 

Pushing the papers back into his pocket, Dean held onto one of the notes; keeping it tucked in his hand just to remind himself what the bullets were used for.

As he approached the front door, he could hear a crashing sound followed a second later by the distinct sound of shattering. 

Oh. That definitely couldn’t be a good sign. 

Striding into the house, Dean immediately saw two women fighting; one blonde, standing on one side of the room holding shards of glass, and a red-head, pinned by an unseeable force against a wall at the other end of the room. From his vantage point in the doorway, it looked like the blonde was winning, and that spelled trouble for the woman who had left Dean the trail of notes. “Don’t shoot the pretty red-head,” Dean repeated quietly to himself before he clicked the safety off on the gun.

The blonde woman turned and looked at the sound, scoffing at Dean as she twirled a broken shard of glass in her hand. Oh yeah. She definitely looked like a witch.

“A gun?” she said, rolling her eyes. “Do you really think that’s going to work on someone like me?” There was a cocky edge to her tone. Dean didn’t like it one bit. It grated on his nerves, and he took great pleasure in unfolding the ‘witch killing bullets’ note from his hand so the woman could see.

‘Oh yeah,’ Dean thought to himself as he tilted his head and raised his eyebrows slightly in defiance. ‘Bet you didn’t see that one coming.’

The witch decided that Dean and his post-it note weren’t a threat, and she turned away as if she didn’t believe him.

Point. Aim. Shoot.

Dean pulled the trigger and watched as the bullet sailed through the air straight into the witches head. The witch dropped to the ground, dead.

The red-head who had been pinned to the wall fell as well, but she quickly stood up and wiped the blood from her cheek. “I knew you wouldn’t stay put,” she said, but there was a smirk on her lips that said she was grateful he’d shown up.

Dean bowed a little with a grin on his face.“At your service,” he said. Something about rushing in to fight some unknown force felt right. He couldn’t explain it but the gun in his hand was almost natural. There was an itch at the back of his brain that said this was what he was meant to do, but he just didn’t understand why.

“Alright, let’s go save Samuel and your angel,” the red-head said, patting Dean on the shoulder with a little knowing look in her eyes.

Angel? Dean had an angel? Huh, maybe mom was right. Maybe angels really were watching over him.

~~~

Cas

“Dean’s been… he’s been pining after me for years?” Cas asked, his brain going numb at the words. Dean was pining for him? Maybe Sam was mistaken and he thought Dean was just pining right now because he was cursed. It just wasn’t possible… was it? Cas had been yearning for Dean ever since he’d rescued him from Hell, and here Sam was saying he could have Dean if he wanted him? That Dean wanted him back? That was - no, that couldn’t be real. How was Cas supposed to just believe he could be happy like that? 

Sam opened his mouth, about to say something which would either heal Cas’ heart or break it, but he never got to say whatever it was. The other witch- what had Rowena said his name was? Boyd?- came into the room with a ritualistic knife in his hands. Cas eyed the blade carefully, squinting as he read the runes carved into the handle. Resurrection runes. That spelled trouble. 

“Whatever you’re about to do, you don’t have to do this,” Sam said, warily watching the witch as he moved closer towards them. Cas had to give Sam credit for trying to reason his way out of this situation. It wouldn’t work, but maybe stalling would give them a chance to escape.

Boyd huffed out a laugh, pressing the tip of the blade into his hand and cutting along his palm; collecting his blood into a ritual bowl before looking up at Sam. “Oh, you mean the part where I sacrifice your soul and use the angel’s Grace to bring our brother back to life? Unfortunately for you, I do.”

Sam cast his eyes over towards Cas, and Cas gave him a single curt nod. Everything he’d seen before Sam had been dragged into the room had pointed to a resurrection. But he didn't know about the soul swapping part until Boyd had just said it. Cas wasn’t about to witness Sam losing his soul for the second time.

As Boyd began to trace sigils in blood across his dead brother's forehead, Cas watched as Sam started to tug on the rope with renewed effort. If the holy fire was the only thing keeping Cas stuck, he’d have used his powers to help loosen the bounds on Sam’s wrist. He just hoped that if Sam was able to break free and put out the fire, that would deactivate whatever spell the witches had used to subdue his powers.

The witch was far too focused on whatever ceremony he was performing to notice what Sam was doing, and Sam had almost gotten free. Cas started tugging on his own ropes, hoping he could at least be somewhat useful.

So close. Just one more knot to loosen and-

The sound of a gunshot ricocheted up the stairs, and they all pivoted towards it. 

Using it to his advantage, Sam freed himself from the ropes and threw himself out of the chair. Knocking the knife out of Boyd’s hand, Sam punched the witch in the face and threw him to the ground.

“Sam!” Cas shouted, but Sam was already moving, shoving the chair he’d been tied to into the ring of fire, breaking the circle.

Cas felt his powers kick in with a rush and he tore off the ropes and shattered the chair. About damn time he could do something to help in this fight.

He’d barely made it a single step out of the circle before he was being thrown backwards again by an invisible force, the flames almost catching his hand as the witch hurled a spell at him.

“Cas!” Sam yelled, grabbing the knife from the floor before he was flung backwards into a bookshelf.

Yanking his angel blade from his sleeve, Cas hurled it through the air, aiming for Boyd’s head. But once again, Boyd used his power to his advantage to knock the blade from it’s path and it clattered to the ground.

This whole witch ordeal was really starting to grate on Cas’ nerves. This time Cas stalked forwards, ready to kill this witch with his bare hands. But Boyd had picked up the ritual knife. He darted forward to stab Cas with it, but Cas dodged the blade, grabbing Boyd’s arm and hurling him against the wall.

Cas snatched up the angel blade and whipped around, ready to bury the blade into the witch’s heart, but Boyd was staggering up and stumbling out the door into the hallway.

Sam darted for the door, chasing after him, and Cas followed a single step behind. Not that they had a plan for how to kill Boyd once they caught up to him, but if Cas could get close enough, he was going to bury his blade as far into the witch’s chest as he possibly could.

Rushing down the stairs, Cas came to a screeching halt as he stumbled straight into Sam’s back at the top of the stairs. What the hell?

He quickly darted his eyes around to see why Sam had stopped, only to notice that Boyd had frozen, too. Because there, at the bottom of the stairs, was Dean Winchester with his gun raised. Except it wasn’t just aimed at Boyd. Dean shifted his gaze between all three of them, aiming at Boyd, then at Sam, and then at Cas with a look of panic in his eyes.

He didn’t recognize them.

~~~

Dean

Taking the fight to the witches was one thing, but the witches coming to him was not what Dean expected. Why were there so many of them? And why did he get a flash of a fluttering feeling in his chest when he looked at the man at the top of the stairs with bright blue eyes?

Swinging the gun, he aimed at all three of them, unsure of who to shoot first and who was the biggest threat. Oh God. Why was his hand shaking? Why did it feel like something inside his head was screaming at him not to pull the trigger? He darted his eyes between them all again, the shaking getting worse as his mind screamed out in confusion.

The tall one in the middle quickly put up his hands in surrender. “No, no, no. Brother,” he pointed at himself. “Best friend,” he quickly pointed at the man behind him. “Witch,” the man emphasized, pointing at the man farthest down the stairs who was mere steps away from Dean.

Dean hesitated for half a second, something in his gut tugging and tumbling around as he processed the words he’d just heard. And yet something about the voice of the man who had just spoken made Dean feel calm and steady. An ingrained trust that had been there for years.

Swinging the gun around, he aimed at the witch and pulled the trigger. The bullet went straight into the witch’s heart, and his body crumpled to the ground. 

Letting out a breath, Dean darted his eyes back up to the top of the stairs, where the other two men sighed in relief.

Grinning, Dean flashed them a thumbs up, a surge of pride welling up in his chest that he’d managed to kill both witches. He caught the eye roll his brother threw at him, and it made him smile even wider. 

“Dean.”

Oh. Dean knew that voice.

“Cas?”

Cas quickly made his way down the stairs, stopping just a foot away from Dean. “Dean,” Cas said again, this time softer as he took that final step until they were hovering in each other’s space. The angel’s gaze darted down, flickering over Dean’s lips before he looked up again. “It um - I was supposed to be the one rescuing you.”

Dean was dimly aware that Rowena was moving up the stairs, asking his brother something about a book, but he wasn’t really paying attention to that. Not when he could barely tear his eyes away from this gorgeous man in front of him.

“You’re still wearing my trenchcoat,” Cas said quietly, hand reaching out to brush lightly over the lapel of the coat.

Sucking in a breath of surprise, Dean looked down at the coat, and then back up at Cas. “This is your coat?” he asked.

Cas nodded, giving Dean a small smile. And, oh God, that smile was so beautiful. This was Cas’ coat. Cas with the blue eyes and the pretty smile. Cas who smelt like Heaven.

Putting his hand into the pocket of the coat, Dean’s fingers brushed over the paper notes and he looked down at the first one he’d found stuck to his forehead. The one that said the word boyfriend on it.

Oh.

Was Cas his boyfriend? Is that why his heart was racing and he felt weak in the knees?

“Are we dating?” Dean asked. ‘Please say yes. Please God, say yes.’ Something deep in his chest ached for this man in front of him, and he didn’t know how he was going to cope if Cas said no.

His brother had said Cas was his best friend. But Dean wanted more. He wanted- he wanted to… he just needed to feel-

Cas started to shake his head no, taking a small step backwards as if to put some space between them.

But Dean darted his hand out, grabbing hold of Cas’ arm to keep him close. The ache was building in Dean’s chest; wrapping around his heart until it felt like he couldn’t breathe. He wanted something so desperately, but he just didn’t know what he needed. He let his eyes flicker down to Cas’ lips and he felt a tug of desire deep in his chest. Oh God, yes. That was it.

“Kiss me,” Dean murmured. He was aching for it; those beautiful lips pressed against his own. Even saying the words felt right. Had he kissed those lips before? He would’ve remembered tasting Heaven if he had, right?

Cas’ eyes flew open, and he looked down at Dean’s mouth before swallowing thickly. “Dean,” he whispered, his voice wavering on the word; his expression softening into the most tender look Dean had ever seen.

Leaning forward, Dean began to close the gap. “I need you to kiss me,” Dean breathed out, heart racing in his chest.

Cas let out a choked noise, and then he was leaning in too. And they were close. So so close.

A flash of purple light suddenly darted across Dean’s vision, and he pulled back with a gasp. What the hell was that? A tingling began to race down his back, and a second later, his head ached with a sharp stab of pain. Dean sucked in a lungful of air, eyes stinging, and then, in a rush, the pain stopped. Everything went still. What had he just been doing?

Dean blinked once, twice, and darted his eyes around in confusion. Where was he? And why was Cas standing so close?

Wait.

Cas really was close. So close that Dean could see a hint of silver in the blue of his eyes. Belatedly, he realized his heart was racing in his chest, and Cas was staring at his mouth in a way that was making Dean’s knees feel weak.

He’d just been cursed, hadn’t he? 

That should be the thing he should be focusing on; the last thing he clearly remembers.

And yet he can’t shake this sudden twinge in the back of his mind that feels like he’s just gone and fallen in love with Cas all over again. That same heart stopping, knees wobbling feeling he’d felt a couple years ago when he’d realized he was well and truly in love with his best friend.

Darting his eyes away from Cas, Dean caught sight of both Sam and Rowena, who were both watching him closely.

“How do you feel?” Sam asked.

“Got your memories back?” Rowena questioned.

Dean nodded numbly, and he quickly cast his eyes back to Cas. “Yeah, memories from before the curse are back. But I can’t remember anything that had happened since I was cursed,” Dean admitted, desperately reaching back in his mind for memories from the last couple days, but it was blank. He felt like he should remember. Like something was tugging in his gut, begging him to just remember. Like something monumental had happened and he needed to yank those fuzzy memories to the front of his mind until he had clarity.

And yet…

And yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Cas. Something was missing here. He desperately needed something. There was something he really wanted to do, and it was aching all the way into his heart. Like something on the tip of his tongue that he was fiercely trying to grasp. 

It all revolved around Cas. Why couldn’t his memories fill in the blanks? Because this felt momentous. Something meaningful that tugged on his heart. A desire attempting to burst free from his ribcage. A taste of Heaven.

Oh.

Reaching out, Dean wrapped his hand around Cas’ tie and tugged him forwards until he could press their lips together in a kiss.

Finally.

Cas utterly melted against him, arms coming up to wrap around Dean’s shoulders as he melded his lips to Dean’s.

Oh God.

Oh yes.

‘Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.’ That was Dean’s last coherent thought as Cas’ mouth chased his own. The brush of lips was so damn good Dean was seeing stars behind his eyelids. Cas’ lips were chapped yet soft, and so so warm.

Oh. That warmth. It felt like Heaven. Like a heat he’d been chasing for days; finally feeling it seep into his soul.

Tilting his head, Dean dotted a couple quick kisses to those plush lips before he lingered on the next kiss, darting his tongue out to ever-so-softly glide along Cas’ lower lip.

Cas shuddered against him, fingers pressing into the handprint he’d seared there many years ago.

Stuttering out a quiet gasp, Dean used his free hand to glide along Cas’ jaw before softly tangling in his hair. And they just kept kissing. Catching Cas’ lower lip between his own, Dean hummed in pleasure as Cas leaned even further into the kiss until they were chasing each other’s mouths over and over again.

Somewhere in the distance, Dean swore he could hear Rowena whistling and cheering, but God, he just didn’t care. Not when Cas was huffing little breaths against Dean’s cheek as he dove back in again and again without ever breaking the kiss.

God.

Dean didn’t think he’d ever had a kiss this good in his entire life. 

Cupping Cas’ jaw, Dean brushed his fingertips over Cas’ cheek as he eased the kisses off into gentle little brushes. Kisses pressed into a smile; lips catching against the corner of Cas’ mouth before diving in again.

When Dean tried to pull back minutes- maybe hours- later, Cas chased him, following Dean’s mouth and kissing him again. And Dean let himself sink into it; pressing his smile against Cas’. Slow tender kisses morphed into something deep and delicious, before they eased back again into soft touches.

By the time they broke apart, Dean’s mouth felt like it was tingling with the taste of Cas. Cas’ lips were red and kiss-swollen, and Dean shuddered as he realized he’d been the one to do that. He liked that thought a lot.

“What was that for?” Cas finally asked, brushing his nose against Dean’s.

Tilting Cas’ head, Dean gently pressed their foreheads together; letting his fingers soothe over Cas’ ear before dropping his arm to wrap around the angel’s waist. “It just felt right. Like it was something we’ve been dancing around for days… or maybe years.”

Cas laughed, searching for Dean’s mouth again and humming happily when their mouths found each other. “Years,” Cas said against Dean’s lips. “Definitely years.”

“Then we need to make up for lost time,” Dean said, ghosting another kiss to Cas’ lips before pulling away.

“Dean!” Cas huffed, trying to chase after Dean’s mouth to initiate another kiss but not being able to reach. “Kiss me.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I will,” Dean said, grinning as he briefly bumped their noses together. “But I’d rather kiss you somewhere that isn’t a witch's home. And I’m pretty sure Sam and Rowena left a while ago.”

Finally pulling back, Cas looked around, proving that Sam and Rowena really had left. “How long have we been-” Cas started to ask.

“No idea,” Dean admitted, before he grinned and added, “Not nearly long enough.”

Cas blushed a pretty pink at that, and Dean leaned forward to peck Cas’ lips just because he could.

“C’mon. Let’s get outta here. You know what, I’m actually starving. I can’t remember the last time I ate,” Dean said.

Cas ducked his head, mumbling something that Dean couldn’t quite catch.

“What was that?”

“Said that was my fault. I was getting you a bacon cheeseburger and pie at the diner when the witches kidnapped me. Never got to give you the food,” Cas said, eyes downcast sheepishly.

“You’re such a dumbass,” Dean teased lightly, sliding his thumb under Cas’ jaw and tilting his head up. “Sounds like you owe me a dinner date.”

The smile that lit up Cas’ face was enough to have Dean falling for him a third time.

Cas leaned in, pressing a feather light kiss to Dean’s lips before he pulled away. “Are you planning on wearing my trenchcoat for our first date?”

Dean looked down in surprise, realizing for the first time that he was wearing Cas’ coat. No wonder he was so warm. He was going to have to ask Cas later how he’d ended up wearing the trenchcoat. “Mmm, I think I’m going to keep it for now. Maybe I’ll give it back to you on our second date.”

“There’s going to be a second date, huh?” Cas grinned as they walked side by side out of the front door and into the crisp night air.

“If you’re lucky. Might take you storm watching since you love storms so much. Or maybe a bee farm so you can see the bees,” Dean said, catching the extremely tender look Cas was giving him. 

Dean felt lightheaded. He didn’t know why Cas was looking at him like that, but he could ask later. Right now, he wanted to share a bacon cheeseburger, a slice of pie, and a milkshake, and maybe steal another kiss or two. 

What Dean did know was that this moment right here with Cas was one he was never going to forget.