Chapter Text
Dean tossed his blanket off and bolted from bed. He pulled on his robe, seething with frustration.
When he threw the door open, he nearly walked right into Castiel. "Son of a-Cas! Buddy, you're my wingman, and I love you but I will stab you if you don't stop lurking!"
Castiel looked at him irritably. "I've been stabbed quite a few times. You and your brother have each stabbed me, Dean. With a demon blade and an angel blade. What makes you think it would go differently this time?"
The hunter shrugged. "When you say it like that..."
"First thing you did when we met in person. You thanked me for saving you from Hell-"
"Then I stabbed you, yeah. I remember." Dean rubbed his eyes. "Come on. I'll get us some coffee and teach you Texas Hold'em."
"Why?"
Dean's hands were shaking. "'Cause I can't sleep when I keep seeing your burned out wings."
This was probably more honest than he had meant to be, and it seemed to shock Castiel to hear it. "I'm sorry, Dean. I wasn't aware..."
"That I got to see your wings scorch up the museum? Yeah. The hell, man. Seriously. What the hell."
"That doesn't seem to be a question," Castiel said quietly.
"It isn't."
Castiel followed his friend to the library, and Dean could feel him watching as he set the coffee to brew and got out a deck of cards. He counted them silently, out of habit more than concern. He was the only one who got up to mess with them at four in the morning.
"Dean," Castiel said quietly, "your insomnia is going to become a problem."
"It ain't a problem yet?" he snapped, bridging the deck and dealing with practiced hands.
Castiel watched him. Damn angel was always watching him.
"Sit, Cas."
"Dean-"
He closed his eyes tightly. "Cas. Please. Sit. Play cards and pretend things are normal."
Castiel lowered himself into a chair. "I don't think I have a good concept of what normal might be."
"Pretty sure I don't either. But let's pretend."
He lay his coat on the chair beside him. "All right. But I've been exposed to many forms of human games, and this..." He pointed at the cards in front of them. "This is not Texas Hold'em."
Dean grinned but did not look up from the game. "How did you get exposed to poker?"
"It isn't a story that paints angels, even good ones, in the best light, and I would rather not say. What is it we are playing?"
"Nope. Uh uh. Spill it."
Castiel sighed and rolled his blue eyes in exasperation. "Sam is not the only one with an exhausting and incorrigible brother."
Dean laughed, and it felt good. "So? Gabriel or Balthazar?"
"I do have other brothers, Dean."
"Yeah. But the others are complete toolbags. They were only mostly douches."
Castiel sighed. "Yahoel. I doubt you've had the occasion to meet him. Joel was one of those Michael tasked with restraining the Leviathans. Since giving them further access to earth was a transgression of my own, I have not sought him out in a long time. I would not like to know what he thinks of me now. His name was not among those who were killed in the Great Fall, but I do not know his location these days."
"Joel, huh? What's he like?"
"He's very loyal. He would have followed Michael till the last. But I think he was secretly as grateful as so many of us that the Apocalypse wasn't...what it was supposed to be."
"Why's that?"
"He and our brothers, the Kiraman, Rajiv and Ativ, were always quite fond of humanity. Rajiv and Ativ were scribes."
Dean felt his lips sneer. "Like Metatron."
"Like Metatron. Joel was their liaison to Heaven. He reported to Michael any news the Kiraman had of interest. This required him to spend much time in the world of humans, where he learned many things. Including games of all sorts."
"Some nerd angel named Rajiv taught your buddy to play Texas Hold'em?"
"No. Rajiv and Ativ recorded thoughts and feelings of humans. It helped determine where their soul would go after death. And they reported to Joel about the strange thoughts and emotions among addicts. In particular, those obsessed with gambling."
"So your buddy checked into it."
"He did. He learned very quickly that an addiction to gambling was not something Angels are immune to. Quite the opposite, in fact. It turns out that we-that is, some of us-are highly susceptible to the charms of gambling."
"Some of us? You?"
"Not at all. I don't have a compulsive personality."
It was at that moment that Sam wandered in with his hair at odd angles and his eyes red with sleep. Castiel stared openly at him walking through the library in just a pair of pants that pulled double duty for both jogging and sleeping. The angel stumbled out of his chair and spoke in a stutter. "Sam. Sam, are you-are you all right? Another nightmare? Did we wake you? Do you need-"
"Cas, I'm fine. Just smelled coffee."
"I can help you sleep if you need..."
Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Whoa. Still in the room, boys. Yeah, Cas, you're right. You've got no addictions whatsoever."
Both his human brother and his angel-brother narrowed their eyes at him in confusion.
Dean snickered quietly, and collected his deck. "So? Anything you two need to tell me? About anything?"
Sam's face went pale in an instant. "Uh, why? Why would you, you know, ask that?"
Castiel looked at him in concern. "Sam? Is something wrong?"
The older brother smirked at the angel. "I think my kid brother is afraid to bring you home to meet the family, buddy. Commitment issues. Can't blame him, considering his track record. He's never had to deal with relationships that make it to step two."
"Dean!"
Castiel looked as though he wanted to scold Dean, but was unsure how or for what. "Dean, that's quite callous. Sam was never directly responsible for the deaths of his girlfriends. And you told me his ex-wife remains alive."
Horror filled Sam's face. "Annulled! Cas, it was annulled. Jesus, Dean!"
"I apologize. Ex...girlfriend."
Sam glowered at Dean as he burst into laughter at Castiel's confusion. "Ex-stalker, Cas. Dean, don't tell him stories if you aren't going to include the truth!"
Dean gave him a thoughtful smile. "Hey. Love is love, man. I ain't gonna judge."
The bitchface expressed that Sam had not caught his meaning. "Becky and I were not in love. I was victimized by a demon!"
Dean turned his smile on Castiel. "He's kind of a wreck. You sure you want this guy?"
The angel stared at Sam with adoration. "With all my heart," he confirmed.
Sam's mouth dropped, and suddenly he seemed very aware of his state of undress.
"Good," Dean said, slapping his hands on the table to lift himself up. "Try to remember to put a tie on the door, gentlemen," he teased as he set his cards back down and exited the room, reveling in Sam's shock.
He went back to his bedroom, and took off his robe. "Castiel," he prayed sincerely, "you take good care of my baby brother. He needs to be happy for once. If you can make my brother happy...well, that's more than anyone has ever been able to do. Make him feel safe, Cas. He deserves to feel safe after all this time."
With that, he opened up his drawer to glance at his photos, holding each one with reverence. "Mom, Dad, I nearly lost Sammy today. I lost my mind today. This thing is coming back for me; I know it is. I know how things are going to end for me, and I want you to know I ain't scared. So long as Sammy is okay, and Cas will watch over him. He'll watch over Cas. Wish you had known Cas. Mom, you would love knowing that an angel is watching over your boys. Dad...well, you'd try to hunt him, but I swear he's a good guy. And for all three of us, I gave him our blessing. He don't need it, but he wants it. And Sam wants it too. So I spoke for all of us. I hope...I've been speaking for all three of us for a long time. I hope I've done it right more than I've gotten it wrong. Dad, I miss you. I love you, Mom."
This time, when he closed his eyes, he did not see scorched wings, or a mirror with black eyes, or a demon handing bloody wings to his soulless brother. He dreamed of his brother staring up at fireworks while Castiel lay on the grass next to him staring at the stars. He himself watched while drinking a beer on the hood of his car far enough away that he could not hear their voices, but close enough to feel content. It was Heaven. Sam was his soulmate, and Castiel shared their Heaven freely, coming and going as he pleased, and staying longer and longer each time. When they felt like company, they joined Ash and Pamela at the Roadhouse, where Bobby would visit whenever his wife let him, and Ellen and Jo served the drinks with free smirks to him and Rufus. It was the Heaven he wanted. He slept through the night for the first time he could remember.
***
Sam stood before Castiel, and awkwardly wished he were not shirtless. He knew how stupid that was. Castiel could see into his mind if he chose to; and anyway, he had nothing to hide from his angel. Castiel knew the worst parts of him; his chest was hardly the ugliest thing he had seen of Sam Winchester.
He still wished he had a shirt.
"Dean didn't drink the coffee," he murmured, and used the excuse to turn away from that blue stare. He grabbed one of the mugs Dean kept stacked just so by the machine but put it down when he realized how badly his hands were shaking. Two decades of holding a gun with a lethally steady aim, and he was not going to be able to pour coffee without spilling it all over himself. He sighed.
"Is something wrong, Sam?"
He smiled, but even his smile trembled. "Of course not."
"I think you might be lying to me, Sam," he said very quietly. His gravel voice was laced with hurt.
"No, Cas. I'm really not. There isn't anything wrong." He had always tried to be honest with Castiel. He knew how strange human behavior could seem for him as it was, and how confusing his brother could be, especially since lying came out of Dean's mouth as smoothly and frequently as a breath. So he thought for a moment about how to express why he was so anxious.
"Sam?"
"Cas, it's different at that lake of yours. I never want to see Harlan Lake again for the rest of my life, knowing what we know now."
"That Magnus positioned his residence directly over the center of the lake."
"Yeah. The guy was nuts. But that place you took me...you said it's in Norway?"
"Yes."
"That place is amazing. I can pretend we're the only beings on the planet on two legs."
"There are birds there, Sam."
Sam rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. When we were there, it's just us and the world as it should be. Feels like a dream. But I wake up and we're here now, back home, and I don't even know how to...What are we, Cas? What do we do now? Things just go back to normal?"
Castiel sighed gruffly. "If that's what you choose."
Sam's heart fell. "Yeah, I...I guess. I mean. Is it...what you want?"
The angel's head tipped forward, and the gaze lowered wearily. "Sam," he said with a level of fatigue rarely heard in his voice, "I have loved you for years without ever needing anything from you. I'll do as you please now. It won't change what you are to me, no matter how you need me to act."
The hunter watched him, took in the way the soldier slumped back into his chair, the way his wings hung miserably. Soldier. Always doing what was needed, never what he wanted. "Cas? I want to know. What is it you want?"
He did not move at first. Then he smiled weakly. "I want to give you what you want, Sam. I want you to be happy, to feel safe, and to know I had some small part in that. Sam, when I took your pain from you back at that hospital, when I took on your nightmares, it broke me. I was broken in ways I can't even describe, ways you will never know. You glimpsed it, but only the surface. Eons of repressed emotions attacked me. I never was truly emotionless as I should have been, not in my whole life. I never knew what restraint I had used all that time until I had no means to block it out any longer."
"God, Cas. I'm so sorry."
He smiled, but his eyes were haunted. "I have always been broken, Sam. Flawed. Naomi eluded to just how many times I had to be realigned, times I don't even remember, all because I felt things, doubt and compassion, that I wasn't meant to feel and never understood."
Sam waited when Castiel paused to lick his lips. He moved to sit beside him, and put a hand on his angel's arm.
"I'm a type of angel, Sam, who never should have felt anything but duty. There are some who are meant to feel joy. Some are meant to know wrath. The archangels, of course, are unlimited. But I was meant for taking orders."
"Cas, I can't believe that's all you were ever supposed to be. You're so much more than that."
"And that's the problem, isn't it?" the Angel laughed bitterly. "My only love should be for Heaven, my only desire should be to fulfill my duties with honor, to glorify my Father in all I do. I am one of Michael's soldiers, created to fight and die at Heaven's command."
"I never thought of you as serving under Michael before."
Castiel looked up. "Of course. Michael was our commander. Anna led our garrison, and I served as her second, fought beside Uriel and Balthazar and so many others. But highest was Michael." He finally smiled in a way that reached his tired eyes. "I think it might be why I learned to follow Dean so easily. I may argue with him, doubt him, and I have even betrayed him at my darkest. But Dean is my commander as much as he is my friend. It is little wonder to me that Michael fought so hard for him. Had he received Dean's permission, there would have been nothing Michael could not have done. Dean is everything Michael should have been, just as you are everything Lucifer could have been, had he chosen his nature of light instead of his vengeance."
Sam shook his head in wonder at his angel's words, but remained silent.
"When I took your pain," he said again at length, "it opened me up to every emotion I have fought against, screened out, over my whole lifetime. I will never know why it did not kill me. But I can tell you that the moment my own walls collapsed, that was the moment I could not prevent myself from loving you."
A small noise similar to a gasping sob crept from Sam's throat, but he did not even hear it. He thought for a moment he might not be able to breathe again, but then his lungs contorted, shoving his air out all at once and rushing to fill again.
"Sam, please. I don't mean to hurt you. Or scare you. I will never try to push you into anything you don't want to be, to take anything you don't want to give. I just want you to know how hard I have tried and how completely I have failed to push back these feelings. No matter what you choose, even if you tell me to go and never return, I will never be able to not love you. That possibility has been dead to me for a very long time. You should know that. And now that you know, I'll wait for you to tell me what you want me to do."
Sam watched in silence as Castiel stood, folded his coat over his arm, and left the room without another word.
His heart pounded in his chest, and he felt a tear race down his cheek. He honestly did not know what he wanted from Castiel. But he knew exactly what he did not want.
"Cas!" he called desperately. "Don't go!"
There was a moment when he thought he might not have heard. Then the blue eyes appeared in the doorway again, full of love in the most heartbreakingly hopeful way.
"Tell me what you need, Sam," he breathed, and the man could hear years of pain dripping from the words.
Sam pushed a smile onto his face, even while the tears kept coming. "I need you," he croaked out finally. "Please, Castiel, I need us."
The angel's eyes flashed a brilliant blue with Grace for just an instant, and then they closed in relief. "Sam, may I kiss you?"
Sam's lips were on his before the request was complete.