Chapter Text
'I always wondered, ever since I took that burden, that curse, I wondered what it could be, what— what my true happiness could even look like. I never found an answer because the one thing I want... it's something I know I can't have. But I think I know— I think I know now. Happiness isn't in the having, it's in just being. It's in just saying it,'
'What are you talking about, man?'
'I know. I know how you see yourself, Dean. You see yourself the same way our enemies see you. You're destructive and you're angry and you're broken. You're— You're 'Daddy's Blunt Instrument' and you think hate and anger, that's— that's what drives you. That's who you are. It's not and everyone who knows you sees it. Everything you have ever done, the good and the bad, you have done for love. You raised your little brother for love. You fought for this whole world for love. That is who you are. You're the most caring man on Earth. You are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know'
'You know, ever since we met and ever since I pulled you out of Hell, knowing you has changed me. Because you cared, I cared. I cared about the whole world because of you. You changed me, Dean,'
'Why does this sound like a goodbye?'
'Because it is'
'I love you'
He's shaking his head. His heart is in his throat and Cas is looking at him with those eyes. Those eyes full of love, he realises. Because Cas just said he's in love with him. He's crying but his face is scrunched up in a smile, even as Billie continues pounding on the door. "Don't do this, Cas," He says because what else can he say?
It's a prayer. He knows it and so does Cas because the magic whooshing in the room doesn't come from outside the door, it comes from them. It's Cas' turn to shake his head in pity. He's leaving Dean, again, but this time he won't be a phone call away, he'll be dead. They both know this, but neither of them are brave enough to say it. Dean wants to yell, tell him to snap the hell out of it. They'll find a different way to stop Billie, and Chuck and everything is going to be fine and then-
And then another sound fills the space.
It's wet and intrusive, and it pulls Dean out of his head. He spins around just as the wall behind him opens up something a doorway to something darker than darkness. The Empty. It moves like water as it spreads further and wider in order to take Billie away, take Cas away. His heart is pounding, pounding harder than it did a couple of minutes ago when Billie was behind them killing him Dean. He was more afraid now, as he turns back to face Cas, than he was of death a second ago.
But Cas is peaceful. More relaxed and happier than he's been in years. He's not looking at The Empty, at the thing that's going to kill him. No, his eyes are locked on Dean as if he was the only thing in that room with him. He smiled at him like he wasn't literally stuck between Death and something worse. His eyes are wet, both of their eyes are wet, but Cas is the only one letting them fall, because Dean was raised better than to show weakness.
And that's not fair. It's not fair that Cas can carve his heart out in front of him, hand it over and for Dean to say nothing back. He wills his mouth to move, but all that comes out is shaky rendition of the angel's name. The door to the archive room swings open, and there is Billie, scythe in hand, ready to kill.
"Cas," He prays, again, unable to say any of the words he's thinking. Cas raises his arm, and for a moment, Dean thinks he's going to grab his face and pull him in. His hand reaches to grab his shoulder, in the same place he gripped him over 10 years ago. And he's so in his head about the feeling of Cas' hand on his arm, the way he's looking up at him, the adrenaline making his body freeze, he doesn't realise when the grip turns tight.
"Goodbye Dean,"
"What-?" Is the only thing he's allowed to say before Cas pushes him off to the side, using angelic strength he hasn't been able to use in years, not since The Fall. Dean grunts as his head hits the floor then the wall he slid into. He scrambles to sit upright and Billie marches into the room with her eyes set on Cas. Dean thinks she hasn't spotted the Empty yet, but he'll never know for sure because all he can look at is Cas. Cas and his fucking serenity and his smile like Dean is the most wonderful thing in the world and not a broken pile of shit.
And he prays. He prays to him in his head to not do this, to live, to stay. Cas sucks in a shaky breath, and he doesn't acknowledge Dean's thoughts because he goes back to facing The Empty. Dean's head flicks between the two, and all he can think about is the fact he's gonna watch Cas die for him again. The entryway into The Empty gurgles and spits until Cas breathes out in acceptance. Then, long, black, and wet tentacles shoot out and envelop him.
Dean had half a mind to check if it gets Billie too, because that's the whole reason Cas pulled them into this predicament. To save Dean. Because that's what he always did, he saves him over and over and over again, even when he doesn't deserve it. He didn't deserve it in Hell, having tortured people for 10 years, he didn't deserve it when they first opened the door to Purgatory and let the Leviathans, when Cas begged him to be on his side for once and Dean said no. He didn't deserve it now when he blamed him for mom's death. And yet Cas will continuously put himself in the firing line for him.
The Empty sucks Billie into it, leaving an empty space where a threat used to lay. And Cas is standing there, but he's covered in goo. He's in no pain. He's not suffering. He's still smiling like they were at the beach they never got to go to. And all Dean can think about is NO.
No, it can't end like this. They can't end like this. They can't have gone through 10 years of suffering and trials for the entertainment of one sick bastard for Cas to die alone to save one human. Cas can't die because of Dean. He remembers the way he was when they met, on the dawn of an apocalypse. He remembers his cool apathy, and the genuine fear he used to instil into his heart. He recalls the way his heart hammered when the thunder lit shadows of ebony wings and it's not fair that Castiel, Angel of the Lord, dies this way.
Dean has done a lot of bad. He's punched his brother when he was rightly concerned. He lives in the hypocrisy of killing monsters no matter what until he joins forces with one in Purgatory, he became a demon for goodness sake, and Cas still thinks he's stunning. He may be rude and abrasive and crude but he was nothing if not stubborn and once he got his mind set on something, he wasn't stopping until he did it.
Dean made up his mind to save Castiel before he could think about his own safety.
He's moving, faster and clearer than he's ever been. He ignores the twinge his bad knee yells out. There is all but one eye left of Cas that hasn't been covered. Dean locks eyes with it as he pushes himself off the wall and towards him. Cas barely has time to widen his eye in shock and fear before it's covered again. The tentacles that have engulfed Cas are retreating back into the emptiness. Dean is too far away. He can't get to him like this. He jumps forwards as the portal closes but he knows he won't make it in time.
By the time he reaches it, it's a minuscule ball of black goo. Cas is gone and Dean is alone again. He's still falling forwards, but he knows it's too late. His hands reach out uselessly to grasp at The Empty and his fingers just graze the wet goo. He closes his eyes as he falls forwards. The momentum rolls him forwards until he hits something solid. There's the sound of crashing, like multiple objects have fallen over, which is impossible because the only thing in this room are a chair and them— and Dean alone.
There's the fluttering of wings or at least something that sounds like the fluttering of wings because suddenly he feels papers fall onto his back. He squints his eyes at the change in brightness, and suddenly the dungeon has a window, and horrible red wallpaper. He looks around in confusion, and it slowly dawns on him that he ain't in Kansas anymore, Toto.
He doesn't have time to react to that revelation, because there's the sound of a gun's safety clicking off, and then he's face to face with 29 year old him.
'Who are you?'
'I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition'
'Who are you?'
'Castiel'
'Yeah, I figured that much. I mean what are you?'
'I'm an angel of the lord'
Dean Winchester has been through a lot in the last several days. He's been risen from the dead, where he'd spent the last several months— or years depending on who you'd ask— being tortured. He's watched a woman's eyes get burnt out of her head, and apparently he's been saved by a freaking angel. Or at the very least, something that wants him to believe it's an angel, because angels don't exist. He hasn't seen one, no other hunter that he knows of has seen one, so they simply can't exist. Which is precisely what he's been trying to convince Sammy of for the past several hours.
He vaguely registered Bobby looking at them with dismay from where he was at at the desk flicking through one of his thick lore books. He paced backwards and forwards in the kitchen as Sam tried desperately to defend the existence of a monster, who he hadn't even met yet. "Well then tell me what it could've been,"
"All I know is I was not— groped by an angel," He stumbles over his words as Sam rolls his eyes at his blatant refusal to believe. Castiel, whatever he was, mentioned that he had no faith, and Dean took pride in that matter. When you're in his line of work, you don't need faith about what could go bump in the night. You have proof, or in his case several scars, that a thing exists and find a way to kill it. Fast.
"Why do you think this Castiel would lie to you about it?" Sam's voice grew more agitated, even tipping his head back from the chair he was sat on.
"Maybe he's some kind of demon. Demons lie!" he offered, but his little brother refused to take in his words.
"A demon who's immune to salt rounds?" Dean shook his head and chose to walk away from Sam, who continued his listing with increasing agitation. "And devils' traps? And Ruby's knife? Dean, Lilith is scared of that thing!"
He couldn't listen to this. He was dead not even a couple days ago, and now they were in Bobby's kitchen seriously discussing whether or not angels were fucking real. This was insane, this was unbelievable. They just didn't exist. End of. He cautiously smelled the leftover pizza left on the counter to try and take his mind off of it, but Sam kept looking at him expectantly.
Of course Sam jumped on this whole angels are real and it pulled my brother out of hell boat a lot quicker than Dean has. Dean doesn't even know why Sam bothers praying. Dean realises why normal people turn to God, people who don't know what goes on out there in the middle of his night. His mother used to say angels were watching over him, but where were they when she burnt on the ceiling? Sam knows just as well as Dean does, why objectively angels don't exist. But somehow he's gotten all this faith crap in his head and Dean can't seem to carve it out of him.
He sighs as he leans back on the counter of the kitchen. He fought the urge to chuck something at Sam's head. "Don't you think that if angels were real, some hunter, somewhere would have seen one. At some point? Ever?" Sam rolls his eyes, and Dean can tell he's biting his tongue. Dean makes sure to accentuate his point. He needs to really drill this into his fucking head that angels cannot exist.
Sam looks at him deadpanned. "Yeah, you just did, Dean," he answers him, and Dean really does roll his eyes at him because this conversation is going nowhere.
"Trying to come up with a theory, okay?"
"Dean, we have a theory,"
"Yeah. One with a little less fairy dust!"
Sam leans forwards in his chair as Dean begins to pace in front of him again. He's accentuating his point with his hand, but he won't look Dean directly. "Okay, look. I'm not saying we know for sure, I'm just saying that I think—"
"Okay, okay. That's the point!" Dean cuts him off, placing his hands on his hips. He waves his hands whilst his voice gets increasingly stricter. "We don't know for sure. I'm not gonna believe this thing is an angel of the Lord because it says so!" He's on the edge of shouting by the last word, and he believes Sam is going to fight him on this again, or maybe Bobby would've interjected then, but he never discovers what would've happened next, because suddenly there's a loud bang in the the living room and something has just crash landed into Bobby's desk.
The gun's in his hand and Sam's before they can even figure out what it is. It looks humanoid enough, but it's all a blur until it makes contact with the legs of Bobby's desk. Various papers he had about angels fly over it, landing and then instantly sliding off its back. He gets close enough to it that the nuzzle could touch it if it moved its face towards Dean, despite his brother calling out his name in warning. The thing has an arm over its face and Dean makes a show of switching off the safety.
He's about to shoot it, when his own face stares back at him, equally as shocked as he is.