Chapter Text
Dean Winchester's bedroom echoed with a gasp as he snapped awake from yet another nightmare, the umpteenth one since Team Free Will kicked Chuck's butt. He lay there, staring at the ceiling, soaked in sweat, nerves buzzing with leftover adrenaline, and feeling like his lungs were playing hard to get with oxygen. Damn nightmares.
Dean was no stranger to nightmares. Honestly, not having them would be more boring than a Sunday sermon. Peaceful sleep and rejuvenation? Nah, not his style. But little did Dean expect that creepy nightmares would turn out to be a walk in the park compared to the emotional rollercoaster kind.
His body reluctantly relaxed, or as much as it could, and he let out a shaky breath. The room was pitch black, only a sliver of light peeking through the door, and Dean couldn't care less what time it was. Actually, Dean couldn’t care less about anything, really. But, well... he had to pull himself together, for Sammy.
Dean staggered out of bed, legs wobbly, and planted his feet on the chilly floor. A curse left his lips when he stood in a wet spot caused by Miracle’s water bowl. Before leaving his room, he couldn't help but glance at himself in the mirror. Why he bothered inspecting the stranger staring back at him was a puzzle. Those once lively green eyes now looked sunken, carrying the weight of the world. His cheeks, now hollow, hinted at the 25 pounds he'd shed. His hair had grown almost long enough to rival Sam's (exaggeration though), and his beard was demanding a trim. Seriously, who was this dude?
Dean blew a raspberry at his reflection. It's not like he'd label himself as depressed, but if he had to be honest, he sure looked the part. He reckoned others probably thought so too, but the only reason they didn't outright say it was because everyone was keeping tabs on him. Not the caring "Hey, just checking in on you" kind of phone call, but...
A knock on the door interrupted Dean's thoughts. "Hey, Dean," his younger brother piped up from the other side. "Claire and Kaia whipped up some breakfast. I just walked Miracle. Jody's out on a quick milk run, so you've got about 10 minutes to join us."
Thus, not a phone call but everyone was in his business in the freaking bunker.
And that voice. Dean couldn't stand that voice. It was the same tone Sam used when dealing with survivors or victims during their hunts. Dean could practically picture those annoying puppy-dog eyes and the worried furrow on Sam's forehead, shining concern and pity on Dean like a spotlight on a construction site.
"Sure, one sec," Dean muttered, almost too softly to hear. The sound of Sam's retreating footsteps brought a bit of relief, easing the tension in Dean's shoulders. Having someone that close, invading his personal space, always made him twitchy. Well, except for Cas. Cas was the exception. Dean shook his head, running a hand over his tired face. That constricting feeling around his ribs returned, especially when he thought about the stupid, stubborn angel. How dare he confess and disappear? It felt like Dean was on the verge of hyperventilating, but breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth usually did the trick.
Glancing back at the mirror, Dean tousled his hair and let out a groan when he realized he could almost fashion a little bun. Ugh, seriously? He was turning into a Disney princess, just like Sam. His green, lifeless eyes then landed on a leather notebook on his desk—the only reason Dean hadn't fully nosedived into depression and eaten a bullet. The only thing (aside from Sam) that kept him going because that notebook held a plan. The plan.
Last week, Dean had a revelation. One he wasn't about to spill to Sam before discussing it with his adopted son, the new God, Jack. He was keeping it hush-hush because, if Sam got wind of it, he'd label 'The plan' a 'Suicide mission.' Dean was tempted to rename it 'Suicide mission' just for kicks, but Sam was already dealing with sleep deprivation thanks to Dean's (apparently) suicidal tendencies, so he decided against it.
The only reason Sam even thought Dean had suicidal tendencies was that one time he 'accidentally' mixed pills with some alcohol. Oops. But since Dean's revelation, he hadn't touched a drop of alcohol, much to everyone's relief.
Except for Eileen. Eileen was far from relieved. It's a known fact that if someone had decided to 'do the act,' they often act happier because they've found peace from their mind and struggles — and Eileen was well aware of that. So, in a twisted way, 'The plan' could be seen as a suicide. Just to give her some peace of mind, Dean decided to finally trim his beard after 4 months. Damn, has Cas really been gone for 4 months?
Once Dean was done with his beard, he realized he'd miscalculated. Forgetting that his weight loss would make his cheeks look even more hollow, he knew it would raise more concerns. Dean rolled his eyes, convincing himself he couldn't care less at this point. Those people saw him lying unconscious on the floor two months ago—this wouldn't make a difference. Dean grabbed his Dead Guy robe, slipped on his ugly squirrel slippers (Sam had the moose version), and rubbed his cheeks to inject some color into his face.
He shook his body loose, gearing up for the dreaded breakfast, feeling his lung capacity shrink as he reached for the doorknob. Don't hyperventilate. Inhale through my nose, exhale through my mouth.
Dean would probably sell his soul to Rowena just to stroll into the war room, only to hear the same old 'Hello, Dean.' Tough luck, Rowena would never agree with that kind of deal.
Soon, he reassured himself. I'll hear him again soon.
Dean left his room and sauntered down the hallway, tracing the aroma of bacon and eggs. Six months ago, that smell alone would've made him ecstatic, but now, he couldn't care less. In these past 4 months, he's come to realize that eating is just plain dull. It's monotonous. Stab the food, shove it in your cakehole, chew the stuff, swallow, rinse and repeat. And for what? Survival? Survival was so overrated.
Turning the corner, Dean stepped into the war room, and his heart clenched as everyone's eyes locked onto him. Miracle ran towards Dean and asked for pets, with which he complied. Dean tossed the others a fake smile, but their pity-filled expressions blinded him. It felt like he was standing right in front of a lighthouse lamp.
The only ones not hopping on the pity-party train were Claire and Bobby, who just gave a small nod. Yes, their Bobby. Jack had granted Dean and Sam's friends one more shot on Earth, but that was it. If they kicked the bucket again, they stayed dead because, you know, natural order and all that. So, not only Bobby, but also Charlie and Eileen were all in the bunker. Alongside the non-zombie friends—Claire, Kaia, Jody and Donna. Alex had a hospital shift, and Patience headed back to her dad after Sam and Dean gave him a (non-threatening) pep talk.
Dean understood. Jack did this because he couldn't mess with Cas' and the Empty's deal. Since he was part of that deal, the new God wasn't sure what the Empty would've done with him if he brought Cas back. Jack was much stronger than the Empty, so he could easily kick its ass, but the new angels he's been creating? Not so much. Bringing all these friends back was Jack's way of trying to ‘soothe the pain’ for losing Cas. It was a sweet sentiment, but they weren't him.
"Hey, Dean," Jody greeted with a sweet smile. Dean gave a small nod, not really in the mood for conversation, not even when he got a punch against his shoulder.
"Hey, doofus," Claire said, placing her hands on his shoulders and steering him to his seat. "We made a shitload of bacon, so you better eat this time. You owe me a hundred bucks per pound you lose from now on, deal?"
Dean grumbled a denial, settling into his chair. The gloomy hunter wasn't about to call Claire a hypocrite, even though he noticed she had also easily lost 10 pounds. It made sense, though. Cas had promised Claire he'd never leave her again, and now she lost her 'sorta-kinda' dad for a second time — all because of Cas sacrificing himself for Dean.
Dean's green eyes surveyed the spread on the table, with scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon. However, as he eyed the food, his stomach did the exact opposite. Instead of hunger, he felt bile crawling up his throat. No one seemed to notice his nauseated expression—except for his little brother, who took a seat next to him.
"One bacon strip. After that, I'll leave you alone."
"Mm," Dean hummed, struggling to find his voice again. In those four months, finding his voice seemed to be a recurring problem. It was the same trauma he experienced after his mom died, turning Dean into a mute for almost a year — much to John's annoyance. Dean finally broke out of his mute spell when Sammy almost jammed his finger into an electrical socket while John was wasted on a motel bed, and Dean shouted his younger brother’s name.
Sam found out later about Dean going quiet after their mom died, when they crossed paths with Lucas Barr. Dean mentioned to Lucas that he wasn't in the mood for talking either back then. When Sam learned that Dean's first word after being silent for a whole year was his own name, it tugged at his friggin’ heartstrings.
On the upside, Dean mastered ASL better than anyone else in the bunker, surpassing even Sam. Eileen would have been prouder and happier about his amazing ASL skills if she hadn't known the underlying reason for his sudden progress. Dean could sometimes string sentences together when he was alone with someone, like he did just before with Sam. But when the room was crowded like this? No, thanks. However, this time Dean knew why he did what he did.
With a sigh, Dean snagged a bacon strip from a plate, feeling everyone's eyes on him — which annoyed him quite a bit. The only eyes allowed to gaze at him were those particular blue ones resembling sapphire, clashing with his emerald ones. Yes, Cas, you've got pretty eyes, and fuck me for not saying it sooner. He took a bite of his crunchy bacon, hummed insincerely as if he liked it, and now everyone started eating.
People were having a blast during breakfast, and Dean kept an eye on his friends. Entire conversations unfolded, and Dean loved it, considering it had taken everyone ages to act remotely normal around his depressed self. His sweet dog slept at his feet, snoring a bit after he received all of Dean’s bacon to make it seem as if Dean had eaten everything. Of course, Sam had noticed. Fucker. Dean's eyes widened, and his chest tightened, slowly hyperventilating, upon hearing the flapping of wings. He turned around to look — inhale nose, exhale mouth — at their adoptive son. Damn him for hoping it was someone in a trench coat.
"Hello!" Jack greeted with a smile, tooth gap showing and his hand raised. Half of the people still didn't know how to react to God entering the room. "How is everyone?"
"Hey, my baby brother is here. Wanna join breakfast?" Claire asked with a grin, who felt like she was his sister through adoption. Jack eyed the food. Since he’s a God you'd expect he wouldn't need to eat, but he's nevertheless still half human. Before Jack could answer, Dean suddenly held him in an embrace.
"I prayed to you," Dean whispered.
Jack's smile widened, hugging Dean and whispering back, "I know. That's why I came." Dean smiled, patting his shoulder a few times. "Sorry I couldn't come by sooner."
Sam's eyebrows shot up almost through the roof as he overheard their whispers. Not only did Dean utter a whole sentence with people surrounding him, but he also showed affection and prayed to Jack? Why and when had he prayed to Jack?
Jack also hugged Sam, who responded, but his mind wasn't entirely there. Breakfast continued, yet Sam couldn't stop wondering if Dean was planning something behind his back.
"What did you want to talk about?"
Dean swallowed hard, finding himself alone with Jack in his room, those damn blue eyes tracing Dean's face with curiosity. Why did that guy have to look like his adoptive father and not his biological one? No, wait, the former was way better. But then again not, because it reminded him of Cas. Jesus Christ.
Since Dean still had a hard time talking, he decided to hand his notebook to Jack. Jack took it and settled on the edge of Dean's bed, on the memory foam, while Dean leaned back on his desk. He couldn't bring himself to look at the kid, not wanting to see his emotions.
Jack read the pages, and while Dean didn't witness it, the young God turned paler. "D-Dean, I…"
Dean pinched his eyes closed. He really didn't want to hear it, but he knew he had to.
"Dean, this would be suicide..." Jack gasped. Dean rolled his eyes. That was common knowledge, but the choice between his life and Cas' life wasn't a difficult one for him. “Don’t get me wrong, I want Cas back too, and if I could I would. But I don’t want to lose my other dad too if this fails.”
"If what fails?"
Dean's skeleton practically leapt out of his body in shock, suddenly spotting his brother in the doorway with crossed arms and a scowl. Sam's usual bitch-faces were intense, but his eyebrows were fully committed to it this time. Jack rolled his lips inward, realizing he shouldn't get involved in a Winchester argument. As Jack attempted to hand the notebook back to Dean, Sam snatched it away, much to Dean's shock.
"H-Hey!" Dean protested, his voice breaking under the strain. "Don't you da-"
"Oh, I dare, Dean! I found you two months ago nearly dead if Jack wasn't there! I heard Jack say just now 'this would be suicide,' so yes, I dare protect my brother." Dean felt like glaring daggers into Sam's face, but his eyes were fixated on the notebook Sam held up high, just out of Dean's reach. Fucking giant.
"T-That wasn't a suicide attempt."
"You took fucking valium with vodka, Dean!"
The older brother immediately shut his mouth, his molars audibly clacking against each other. Who was he really trying to fool? Sam couldn't be fooled; that little shit knew him better than anyone. Except for Cas, but Cas could read minds and my soul, so he cheated.
Sam and Dean engaged in a staring contest until Dean realized that Sam wouldn't leave him alone unless Dean knocked him down in the hopes of him getting amnesia. With a frustrated gesture, the older hunter threw his hands in the air, not caring anymore, and left the bedroom. Because he definitely didn't need his brother's opinion. Again, he miscalculated, knowing Sam was going to spew his opinion, whether there were people around or not.
Sam cracked open Dean's notebook, his eyes widening with every sentence as they followed Dean's handwriting. He glanced up, catching Jack's sympathetic gaze. "What the hell," Sam wasn't shocked about Dean's plans, but rather about the chance of them actually working. "Could this... Could this work?"
Jack pulled the classic Cas-frown, tilting his head uncertainly. "Cas has a chance at coming back after doing some prep work... Dean, not so much." Sam swallowed hard. "The Empty won't be ok with this, and it won't forgive Dean."
Feeling completely fed up, Sam tossed the notebook onto Dean's desk and headed after him. "S-Sam!" Jack was the next one to follow them after snatching the notebook from the desk.
"Dean!" Sam yelled, finding his brother, with Miracle at his feet, in the kitchen nursing a glass of water — the only thing he still consumed. Dean rolled his eyes with a deep sigh and decided to stroll away again through the other kitchen exit as Miracle happily followed him. "Fucking he–Dean!"
Dean ambled through the war room, putting his glass of water on the table and completely tuning out everyone, all of whom could only muster a confused frown. "Are you serious!? I get he's your best friend, I get you're depressed, but Jesus, man, offing yourself to go into the Empty-" Dean climbed the stairs, the steps groaning under his squirrel slippers. "And maybe not even coming back!?" Sam followed him upstairs. He knew this was the worst way to talk with a depressed, suicidal person, but he just couldn't stomach the thought of losing his brother yet again.
"We beat Chuck, got our friends back, Jack's God now!" Dean grabbed the door handle, gritting his teeth. "Don't let it go to waste after Cas sacrificed himself for you! We can write our own stories and live our lives, Dean!"
Dean finally yelled back, his voice breaking: "My fucking story isn't worth writing if Cas isn't in it!"
Sam froze.
He kept rattling the door handle, but it wouldn't budge. Damn. He forgot. They locked the door in case Dean wanted to bail. The only times Dean was ‘allowed’ to go outside was if he had to walk Miracle — yet he wasn’t allowed to go alone. Dean knocked his forehead against the door, again and again. This was the reason he turned mute, out of fear for this fucking crap.
"Dean..."
"Bite me," Dean whispered, sliding down the door with his back against it. Hugging his knees, he just wanted to be left alone. Sam's gaze bore into him. Dean grew a sixth sense for that because of Cas, which was a gift but also a curse. Sam crouched down, trying to get Dean's attention. Dean had his head buried in his arms, so Sam had no possible way to gauge his emotion.
"What do you mean?" Sam whispered, wanting more explanation, even though he got the gist of it. He only needed to be sure before assuming things.
Dean finally looked up, his green glazed eyes meeting the hazel-colored ones. Dean whispered back, "You got Eileen, man." Sam's forehead creased. "She's your happy ending. Mine is gone."
Sam’s eyes widened after Dean buried his face in his arms again. Holy crap. Sam did assume there were some feelings involved, but Dean had it bad. Chick-flick bad. How the hell hadn't Sam seen it before? No, he did see it before but he just wrote it off as ‘best friends,’ even though Castiel didn’t make his feelings for Dean a secret. Dean, on the other hand, labeled Castiel as ‘a brother,’ so what the hell was that about?
"Ok, yeah," Sam whispered. "Ok." He stood up, turning to look at the audience downstairs who could only look with gaping mouths or shocked expressions, mostly because they finally heard something from Dean and sure as hell didn’t expect to hear that. “Jack, what do you need?”
“What?” Jack and Dean asked, Dean finally looking up at Sam.
“What do you need for this to work?” Sam asked again, walking downstairs.
“For what to work?” Bobby asked, not liking all this secrecy. “I swear, if that boy’s got something stupid planned-”
“Yes, he’s got something extremely stupid planned, but it’s also smart. If it works, it might be Dean’s smartest idea yet,” Sam said, which didn’t work for Bobby’s curiosity.
“Let us hear it then,” Jody said with her hands on her hips, also curious about this stupidly-smart plan. Dean slowly walked downstairs, seeing the notebook in Jack’s hands. Damn it, he just wanted to do this alone with Jack, no questions asked, but when did Dean get what he wanted?
Sam and Jack exchanged a look, and then Jack cracked open the notebook. “I, uh… I’m gonna read everything out loud, and I think it’s best to ask questions later… Agreed?”
“I’m not gonna argue with God,” Bobby said, arms crossed. “Agreed.”
“I’m just Jack,” the young God said with a smile, flipping open the notebook. Dean plopped down on the lowest step of the stairs, feeling scared as hell, his hands rubbing his face. The hunter looked between his fingers when he felt Miracle’s nose nuzzle his knee with a soft whine.
“Step 1. Turn me into an angel. Cas once told me Jack turned a few humans into angels, so I know he’s got that mojo. Step 2. Kick the bucket. Like Jack did with Cas when Cas went to look for Ruby in the Empty. Step 3. Enter the Empty and look for Cas. Step 4. Steal Cas’ grace to turn him human. The Empty doesn’t hold humans, so it has to send Cas back. Step 5. I revive again, Jesus style. Step 6. Reverse everything. Human me, angel Cas.”
Jack looked up from the notebook, and everyone's jaws dropped.
“Boy, are you stu-”
Jody cut off Bobby. “Jack, would this work?”
Jack glanced back at the notebook. “Steps 1 to 3 definitely.” Dean looked up, his eyes wide, staring at his son's back. Could the Righteous Man see his Guardian Angel again? “Step 4 to 6… I’m not sure. The Empty doesn’t hold creatures who have a soul. Taking Cas’ grace would turn him human, because it automatically gives him a soul on earth, but not in the Empty. The Empty doesn’t give or make souls. I can make a soul, and Dean can give it to him in the Empty, but souls are a fickle thing and it takes a lot of time to make one.”
“How long?” Claire asked.
“Nine months, give or take.”
Dean rubbed the heels of his hands in his eyes. Nine freaking months. “Y-You’re turning me into an angel, give him my soul.”
Jack turned around to look at Dean, surprised he talked, even though it sounded broken. “Would you really do that?” Dean nodded. Of course he would, anything to help Cas. “I need a part of your soul to turn it into your grace.”
“Then give the rest to Cas.”
“I can, but I'd rather give him a full soul. I don't know what the Empty would do with part of a soul, and I don't want to take any chances if we're going to do this.”
Dean understood Jack. He really did, but he couldn’t wait another 9 months for this.
“You need a part of Dean’s soul for the grace? How much would he have left?” Sam asked, which made Dean stand immediately. No, no, Dean knew what Sam was planning, and if he was going to give a huge chunk of his soul, the older protective brother wouldn't stand for it. Jack answered Dean would have half left. “Ok, can you add a part of mine too then?”
“No, wait-” Dean got cut off.
“Me too,” Bobby said, raising his hand.
“And mine,” Charlie joined.
“Same here,” Donna raised her hand too. Dean and Jack both looked dumbstruck, as Eileen, Claire, Kaia, and Jody raised their hands as well, with a broad smile painted on their faces.
“You deserve to be happy, Dean,” Eileen said, the hand she held up now signing ‘I love you’, her pinky, index, and thumb protruding while keeping her middle and ring finger against her palm. “And Castiel too.”
Dean smiled back at her. He felt so much love for everyone, seeing they would give up a part of their souls for Cas.
“T-That could work,” Jack said, visibly becoming emotional. The adopted son turned around to one of his fathers, who was reflecting Jack’s emotions, his green eyes glazing again. “I can merge your souls. It would take me a few minutes. There’s a chance the Empty won’t let you come back. Do you really want to do this?”
A grin grew on Dean’s face, one that finally reached his eyes after those 4 months, which caused a tear to drop down. “Hell yeah.”
A snort left Sam’s throat, catching everyone’s attention. As Sam wiped his own tears, he gestured at Dean’s attire from top to toe. “How about looking more intimidating to the Empty before you threaten him with your Dead Guy robe and squirrel slippers.” Dean opened his arms and inspected his own attire, actually finding it a hilarious idea to stand like this in front of the Empty. “I also think Cas imagines his knight in shining armor differently.”
“Bitch!” Dean yelled, rounding the corner into the hallway quickly before someone saw his cheeks turning red.
“Jerk!” Sam yelled back with a smile, having missed this and being the only one who had seen those cheeks. Sam’s smile immediately dropped as he buried his fingers in his hair.
“Are you ok?” Eileen asked, placing her hand tenderly on his shoulder.
Sam turned to look at her and shook his head. “You heard Jack. There’s a chance I won’t get my brother back. If Cas does get back, it’s going to be this vicious circle of trying to rescue one another. I don’t want to lose my brother again, yet I do want my best friend to be saved. I don’t know what to do.”
“Just support Dean,” Donna said.
Jody nodded, agreeing with Donna. “Dean won’t get any rest until he has tried this, and apparently, it gives him so much relief he’s already said more today than in three months.”
“And if Dean is stuck in there, we will make it a team effort to get him out too.” Charlie grinned, which made Sam smile again.
Dean strolled back into the war room, and everyone beamed at him. Even Miracle almost dislocated his tail due to his enthusiastic wagging. However, Bobby, while glad Dean was looking better, wasn't in the mood to make him uncomfortable. That was Claire’s job, who wolf-whistled. Dean was back in his classic black shirt, red checkered flannel, dark blue jeans, and boots. The only new addition was his belt, because otherwise, his jeans would keep sagging due to the weight loss. Nevertheless, everyone was thrilled he got rid of his sweat-soaked robe. He even combed his hair, and after styling it a bit back, the length actually looked great.
“Ok, next step,” Dean said, feeling fucking uncomfortable with all those eyes gazing at him and hoping to change the subject. This might be the most vulnerable he’s ever felt and he was close to dead two months ago.
Jack turned to look at everyone, catching their attention as he took a vial out of thin air. “Alright. if everyone is ready… Just relax and it will only tickle a little.”
They all prepared themselves for what was about to happen, but never imagined this. Witnessing their souls was a mix of awe and terror for the group — half of them found it amazing, while the others found it downright terrifying. Miracle was one of those who found it terrifying and went to seek refuge in Dean’s room. Dean couldn’t help but feel pity for the animal but this had to happen.
Jack held the vial in one hand, lifting the other and whispering something under his breath. The hunters gasped as slivers of their souls slipped out of their mouths, casting a bright glow across the room. The radiant lights slowly congregated into the vial, and Donna couldn't help but murmur a 'woah.'
Jack examined the little orbs of souls in the vial, only needing to merge them after collecting Dean's part. Dean gulped as Jack turned to him. “There’s no turning back once I’ve merged them. Fifty percent is a lot. Are you sure?”
Dean nodded, prompting a reciprocal nod from Jack. Holding his hand up again, Jack whispered, causing Dean to gasp this time. A substantial chunk of his soul slipped over his lips, shining and glittering three times brighter than the others. It was so radiant that the lighting in the bunker seemed irrelevant.
His soul joined the vial, blending with the others. Jack's expression revealed his surprise.
“What? What happened?” Bobby asked. “His soul freaking blinded me.”
Jack looked at Dean first, who met his gaze with equal confusion, before turning to the others. “Well, uhm, the brightest souls contain the most love. Let’s just say, Dean’s soul took yours under its wing, without question. It’s already merged.”
Dean figured it was the perfect time to find a hole and become a hermit, feeling the intense gazes on him. Apparently, his soul was a possessive and grabby son of a bitch.
“Wow, Dean,” Claire said, crossing her arms. “Normal people just say ‘I love you,’ but you had to show off again?” Dean sputtered, attempting to conjure a witty comeback, knowing that 'fuck you' wasn't exactly age-appropriate for a kid (even though she’s, what, 23?)
Sam's mouth hung open in disbelief. He knew his brother, the one with the often gruff exterior, had a substantial amount of love to give. Hell, Dean had consistently put others before himself throughout their years together — skipping meals so Sam could eat, stealing to provide Sam with clothes. But to witness Dean's soul as undeniable proof…
“Dean…”
“Fudge you,” Dean shot back at Sam, catching Claire's response instead. Sam couldn't help but snort, especially because of their ‘If Jack is around, fuck is fudge’ rule which Dean was better at keeping than any others. Also, Dean’s tough exterior was now laughable. “Next step, Jack.”
Jack nodded while swallowing nothing. The idea of turning one of his dads into an angel just to venture into the Empty made him nauseous with stress. Jack had vowed to be completely hands-off on Earth, but helping his suicidal father save his other father was a different story.
“Dean,” Jack turned away from the others, facing Dean. “Keep looking into my eyes, relax, and think about nothing. When I say ‘now,’ close your eyes.”
Think about nothing, he says. Easier said than done.
Dean took a deep breath and locked eyes with Jack, those eyes that strikingly resembled Cas'.
“Stop thinking.”
“Yep, sorry.”
Jack placed his fingers on Dean’s temples, their gazes locked. The audience watched nervously, especially Sam, who felt the growing apprehension as each step brought them closer to losing Dean. Yet, Sam had faith. He knew Dean would find a way back, even if it meant annoying the Empty as much as Cas did to return the first time.
The hunters gasped when Dean’s eyes briefly shimmered bright blue. “Now,” Jack commanded, and Dean closed his eyes. A warm, tightening sensation enveloped Dean’s chest, his head felt pressured and his back tingled with an odd yet comforting burn. Dean couldn’t quite explain it even if he tried. Jack tapped Dean’s forehead once quickly. “Keep your eyes closed. I just disabled your angel radio.”
This was undeniably weird.
“Why do I have to close my eyes?”
“You can see everyone’s souls; you have angel vision and hear the thoughts of the people you’re looking at. It can be overwhelming.” Dean muttered an ‘oh’ before Jack grabbed the new angel by the wrist. It was a good idea then to keep his eyes closed because he sure as hell wouldn’t be in the mood to hear Sam’s thoughts. “I’m going to bring you to a chair. Try to keep balance because your wings are heavy.”
“My what now?”
“His wings?” Sam asked, dumbstruck.
“Well, slap my ass and call me Sally...” Bobby muttered. No one could see them, but if God said his newly made angel had wings, then they ought to believe that. Jack began dragging Dean to a chair, who actually lost his balance a few times by tumbling backward, cursing unholy words as Jack sat him down.
Dean’s back felt heavier than if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I’m really not a fan of those feathery fudgers.”
“It’s only temporary,” Jack said, but he wasn’t going to explain in what way. Temporary because Dean was going to die, or because Dean would be changed back again?
“Yeah, well, next step,” Dean said, eyes still closed and sitting upright, not letting his nerves show. Jack made yet another vial appear out of thin air, which caused Sam to gasp a bit.
“Dean, wait, I just-”
“No. No chick-flick moments, Sammy. No need for that.”
“Dean, plea-”
“No,” Dean’s eyes shot open. “I’ll come ba-”
Jack flinched, seeing Dean had opened his eyes, staring straight at his younger brother. Dean’s jaw slowly lowered, his eyes tracing Sam’s face who could only look confused back.
It was weird. Weird was an understatement. It was as if Sam’s soul coated his skeleton, and Dean could look straight through his skin, seeing it glisten; his eyes were the brightest. Dean couldn’t utter a sound, frowning after hearing Sam’s thoughts.
✧ I’m losing my brother. I don’t want to lose him again. I don’t know what I’m gonna do if he doesn’t come back. ✧
“Dean, close your eyes,” Jack muttered. Sam’s eyes widened, realizing Dean could see Sam’s soul and hear his thoughts. Dean ignored the kid and looked at the others, seeing their glistening souls coating their skeletons, hearing their loud thoughts.
✧ Sacrificing idjit. ✧
✧ Holy shit, Hasselhof is an angel. I’m kind of jealous. ✧
✧ So is Dean bisexual? ✧
Dean immediately snapped his eyes closed, causing Jack to smile. His eyes stayed open longer than Jack had expected, but then again, the Winchesters saw a lot of shit.
“Alright, I officially hate that the most,” Dean muttered. “Also, Charlie, no.”
“What? But you-”
“Gonna talk about that later. Jack, next step, please.”
Jack and Sam exchanged a look, both swallowing hard, but Jack pressed on. “This is the vial with the soul. I put a sigil on it so you can take it with you in the Empty. Same as with this knife,” Jack explained as he placed the vial into Dean’s hand and slipped the knife in his chest pocket. Dean gripped the vial tightly, his knuckles turning almost white. Tension filled the room as Jack then laid the palm of his hand on Dean’s forehead and positioned the open vial against his lips. “Relax.”
Easier said than done, especially since he was about to die.
Dean’s eyes shot open, his pupils glowing bright blue. A substantial amount of grace slipped from his mouth into the vial before his eyes slowly closed again, as if he was fighting sleep. Once the last bit of grace was in the vial, Jack lifted his hand away and sealed it shut. He then placed his fingers against Dean’s pulse, feeling none, and turned to the others.
“Alright,” Jack announced. “Dean is gone. I will give him an hour before reviving him again. I hadn’t told him, but since he’s an angel, right now I can hear everything he hears in case he would freak out. Let’s just… hope for the best.”
Sam sat down next to Eileen, who wrapped her arm around him. They both softly prayed, even though God was standing next to them.
❖ Dean. Dean, wake up. You have to wake up. ❖
With a little twitch, Dean slowly cracked open his eyes after he heard Jack’s voice in his mind. Where the hell was he? What happened? Propping himself up with his elbows, he glanced around, surrounded by nothing but darkness. Normally, with darkness, you wouldn’t be able to even see your hands, but it’s as if his body was perfectly lit. Oh, right... his son killed him, and now he's in the Empty.
Dean looked down, gripping the vial like it was the key to his existence, before hopping to his feet. Time to track down that dumbass angel. The angelic hunter dashed around, consciously avoiding shouting for Cas; the last thing he needed was the Empty showing up to kick his feathery butt. Ha, Dean could actually use that word for himself now... Fucking hell, who would have thought that.
Thankfully, the hefty weight on his back had vanished. Probably because who the heck needs wings in the Empty?
Where the hell was Cas? It felt like Dean had been sprinting for hours with no end in sight. His stamina was off the charts though, no wheezing, no sweat — all peachy. Wait, was that a voice? Dean halted in his tracks, tuning into the sound.
"No..."
Intrigued, Dean followed the voice, getting closer to its source.
"No."
He stopped abruptly, his 40/40 angel vision spotting a small heap in the distance.
A beige trench coat.
Dean had to bite his lower lip — canine biting into flesh — to stop himself from calling out Cas' name as he approached. Never in his life had he sprinted this fast toward someone, sliding to Cas with all the momentum. Dean's hands grabbed the trench coat, turning the sleeping angel around. He could almost feel his heart threatening to jump out of his chest.
Castiel, it’s Cas. Cas was here, sleeping, mumbling stuff, but he was here. People who were asleep normally should look peaceful, but Cas seemed to be in a lot of pain, mumbling all kinds of denials.
"Cas..." Dean whispered, his hand cupping the angel's jaw to inspect his expressions. "What's the Empty doing to you?" Cas' hand twitched, his face twisted in pain. "I'm here, buddy."
Dean fished the knife from his chest pocket and stuck it in his mouth. With nimble fingers, he worked on loosening the tie around his neck, popping open the first few buttons to make some space. The knife dropped into his hand. “Alright,” Dean took a deep, shaky breath, gearing up to play ‘Operation’ on this soon-to-be-ex angel.
He made a small, deep incision under Castiel’s collarbone, but Cas didn’t even flinch. As Castiel’s grace slowly oozed out, Dean couldn’t shake a twinge of sadness. It felt like saying goodbye, even though Dean knew it wasn’t farewell. But that grace… it had bailed them out so many damn times. The wound under Cas’ collarbone kept bleeding, and Dean had no clue how to heal yet. He wasn’t going to attempt it and risk accidentally smiting his best friend, so he pressed Cas’ tie against it.
Shaking off the sentiment, Dean remembered Jack would turn Cas back into an angel once they got back to the bunker, so there was no need for this emotional crap. Dean peered into the vial, watching the bright soul swirl before he cracked it open and placed it against Cas’ lips. The soul greedily slipped into its new body, and Dean stared in amazement as it took shape inside. Starting at the chest, the soul spread out, coating Cas’ skeleton.
The skull was the last part, and Dean couldn’t help but frown. He hated this. Seeing souls took away their faces. Dean focused hard on Castiel’s face, really concentrated, and couldn’t help but smile as his features came into focus while his soul dropped to the background. It needed some practice, but it worked. The stubble, fine lines, messy hair, chapped lips, and closed eyes were all now visible.
“We’re going home, Cas,” Dean whispered. But before he could hoist Castiel up, the surroundings around them began to tremble. Black goo grew from their surroundings, engulfing Castiel and whisking him away faster than Dean could blink.
“Is it just me, or does Dean look 10 years younger?” Donna asked, squinting at his face. She noticed even the very few gray hairs had disappeared.
“His grace rejuvenated his cells,” Jack answered, plopping down next to Dean to keep an eye on him. Everyone was gathered around the table — some still nervous, some trying to lighten up the mood. Sam sat on Dean’s other side, also scrutinizing his older brother who now looked younger.
“He looks 30 again,” Sam muttered confused. “I look way older now, what the hell.” Sam turned to Jack, who was still keeping a close eye on Dean. “Since when does grace do this? Michael’s grace didn’t do this to Dean, or Gadreel to me.”
“Dean’s grace is made out of his soul. It’s difficult to explain, but Dean’s body isn’t a vessel. His body and grace are one, so his grace is very protective of his body. Like with me. I was born with my grace and my body as one, and my grace makes me look like a 20-year-old. Grace does what it needs to do to its body to protect it in the best way.”
Jack continued: “The moment Jimmy Novak died, in a way his body wasn’t a vessel anymore to Cas, but it became Cas’ body. It’s also the reason Cas does age, whereas vessels normally don’t. If Cas chooses to, he could use his grace to rejuvenate his cells too.”
Sam nodded, recalling how Ishim and Mirabel had vessels that were supposedly over 100 years old.
“Amazing,” Jody muttered, looking on along with Kaia, Charlie and Claire. Claire couldn’t help but shudder, seeing how that old man almost looked as young as her now.
The atmosphere tensed once more as the bunker's lights began to flicker. Bobby voiced his concern, muttering, "What in the cold hell..." as he instinctively reached for the gun at his waistband.
"Jack, what—"
Sam's inquiry was abruptly cut off as Jack's attention was drawn upward. Black goo collected on the ceiling, seemingly forming a portal. The group's collective gaze followed Jack's, and startled cries erupted when a body dropped onto the map table with a resounding thud, and the beige trench coat was the first thing they recognized..
"Cas!?"
"Dean did it!"
"Attaboy!"
Jack placed two fingers on Cas’ forehead, conducting a quick assessment. Seemingly, Cas was just in a deep sleep, unaffected by the surrounding chaos. The portal closed. Jack's focus returned to Castiel, back after four long months. However, a realization struck him, "Could someone make Cas comfortable while I revive Dean?"
“On it!” Kaia and Claire responded promptly, rushing to fetch pillows and blankets. While Jack could've suggested moving Cas to the infirmary, he knew Sam, being the strongest guy available for the task, would likely prefer to stay close to his brother.
“You like me so much you had to copy me, asshole?”
Dean found himself face to face with a younger, grumpier version of himself in the Empty. Eyeing his own reflection, he couldn't help but think he really needed a damn haircut.
“What are you doing here!?” His copy barked.
“Doing groceries. Angel in a trench coat was on my list,” Dean replied, gripping his knife until his knuckles turned white. “You must be the Empty or whatever? Where did my groceries go?”
“Yes, yes, yes, all those questions, I just want to sleep. Fucking gnat’s in my head, all of you!” His copy shouted, with the weirdest accent Dean had ever heard. “I’m a cosmic entity, and you took something that belongs to me. How dare you! I made a deal with him!”
“Fuck you and your damn deal. He’s human now.”
“And how the hell did you become an angel!? You were a human when I took Clarence away from you!”
“A spell,” Dean lied. No way he'd spill the beans about Jack doing that; it'd lead to some serious problems. Copy-Dean clenched his hand in front of him, forming a fist, causing Dean to groan in pain and hunch forward clutching his chest.
“Listen to me, feathers. I don’t care how you got here and took your damn boyfriend from me,” he tightened his fist, and Dean screamed. “The only thing I care about is making you suffer, like I made that damn angel of yours suffer. I’m going to make you regret saving him. I will make you both suffer.”
“R-Rude,” Dean managed to mumble before collapsing on the ground, feeling like his organs were being squeezed together. When the hell was Jack going to revive him!?
“Turn that human you saved back into an angel, and I'll grab him again. And I will make it impossible for you to find him.” Dean finally got some time to breathe, probably on purpose to listen to the Empty’s biddings. “You turn back into a human, and I will unleash wraiths over every angel of that puny God of yours, and I will make sure he won’t ever rest by unleashing every demon from the Empty. And if he dares to meddle with you and Clarence, I will punish you all.”
“W-Why?” Dean lifted his chin, looking at the Empty, who grinned back at him with his own mouth.
“Like I said: I will make you all suffer. You have now become something you hunt. Something you hate.” Copy-Dean licked his lips, enjoying this all too much. “You have turned supernatural.”
A gasp filled his lungs after his grace revived him again, looking straight into Jack’s worried eyes. Dean patted his chest, feeling nothing anymore and worry fell from his shoulders, replaced with relief. His eyes fell on Sam and Bobby, and after focusing really hard again, he could see their faces with their souls in the background. However, their thoughts were fucking loud, so Dean decided to look away again.
“Dean,” Sam’s eyes teared up. “You’re back.”
“Yeah, told you I would. But the Empty is one weird son of a bitch,” Dean replied with a groan, the grace in his chest feeling like an annoying acid burn. “I dunno where Cas w-”
His gaze landed on an unconscious human sprawled on the map table, occasionally wincing in pain. Dean stood up, almost stumbling forward thanks to those invisible wings. But he reached Castiel, comfortably lying on a makeshift bed of pillows and under a blanket. Dean wasn’t even going to question why he was sleeping on the table of all places.
“It worked,” Dean said, a big grin on his face. “It worked!”
“Smartest idea yet,” Bobby chimed in, grinning too, happy to have his surrogate son back.
“Jack, can’t you wake Cas up?” Claire wondered. Both Jack and Dean’s mouths snapped shut, exchanging a glance.
❖ I heard the Empty. I’m not allowed to meddle. ❖
Dean listened as Jack spoke to him through a prayer, a concept he knew he wouldn’t get used to. “So we have to wait for him to wake up? Or can I try with some mojo?”
Jack shook his head, leaving the others looking like they missed half a conversation. “I want you to practice first. Healing and smiting are actually very close to one another.”
“Wait,” Eileen interrupted. “Why does Dean have to practice?”
“Yeah?” Charlie chimed in. “You're planning to fix him, right?”
Dean and Jack shared a glance, keeping a bit too quiet for comfort.
“Dean…?” Sam prodded, sensing something fishy. “How did you pull this off? Why didn’t the Empty keep you for good?”
Dean hesitated but decided to come clean. “Cas has to stay a human, and I gotta stay an angel. Jack's hands are tied. The Empty's calling the shots, and if we don't play along, it’s gonna be a triple dose of torture for Cas, Jack, and yours truly.”
“What? You're stuck as an angel!?” Donna and Jody were stunned, faces turning ashen. “And Cas is stuck as a human!?”
Dean nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. Sam shook his head, completely flabbergasted. “No way… No freaking way…”
“I’ll figure something out. Keep an eye on Cas. He’s due to wake up soon, but he might be a bit disoriented,” Jack advised before vanishing into thin air. Dean sighed, feeling the weight of the situation settling in. Jack didn’t even give Dean a chance to express his gratitude. Dean shifted his focus to Castiel, a smile forming on his face as he saw his (ex) angel sharing the same space again.
“Dean,” Claire interrupted his moment, “it’s kinda gross watching you gaze at that old dude with hearts in your eyes. Feels like you've got a cougar thing going on with daddy issues.”
“What the hell are you even saying?” Dean responded, genuinely lost and unfazed by her comments.
“Check the mirror,” Sam suggested, nodding toward the sink. Dean, still bewildered, decided to roll with it. Adjusting to the newfound weight on his back, he reached the mirror effortlessly. He stared, mouth agape, at his 30-year-old reflection.
“What the... Did the Empty sprinkle me with anti-aging serum?”
“Nope, that's all your grace doing its thing. Suddenly, you're the younger brother,” Sam explained.
Dean felt the need for some shut-eye. However, angels don't sleep. How about a beer, then? Except, it would taste like molecules. His strange, youthful reflection stared back at him — resembling the guy who had a barn rendezvous with an angel years ago. The same angel who was still sleeping and about to go batshit crazy once he realized the situation after waking up.
Running his hands over his wrinkle-free face, Dean muttered, “Oh no... I’m gonna hate this.” The reflection of Castiel sleeping on the table caught Dean’s eyes, his cheeks slightly reddening after realizing what Claire actually said. Hearts in my eyes, Dean thought, Like hell I did… Dean’s stomach flip-flopped as he kept staring through the reflection. Ok, so, I got Cas back even if it had to turn me into an angel… Maybe I won’t hate it too much.
“Claire, shut up,” Dean said, plopping back onto his seat which caused her to snort after he finally retorted. He tried to casually look at the sleeping angel again, a smile growing under his hand as he tried to hide it, while his other hand was petting Miracle.
Welcome back, Cas.
