Fic Prompt Response 1
Well, here’s the first fic-prompt I’ve completed. I’m working on ideas for the others (and some of them I have some ideas percolating already, others have me kind of stumped!). This is the prompt from namichan, who wanted more of “The Shattered One”. anon_unknown001 also asked for a scene from the Shattered Verse (a term I’ve just made up), but was more specific about wanting baby Daniel… so I’ll have to do something different for that one ;)
I haven’t fine-tooth combed this for spelling/grammar errors and whatnot, since it’s not a full-on proper fic. So fair warning it might not be as polished as most of my finished works.
Enjoy!
The one thing John Winchester couldn’t abide by in Heaven was angels. They were arrogant, superior, meddling douchebags. Of course, only having the angels to complain about was an improvement. When he first got to Heaven, he’d found his old home in Lawrence waiting for him, complete with his beloved wife… who he figured out very quickly wasn’t even his Mary. She was some concoction of his own mind, a shade, an imitation of her. Apparently - but for very special cases - everyone’s Heaven was their own.
Fuck that. So John Winchester busted out of his little cage in the clouds and went looking for Mary. His Mary. It wasn’t easy. Every angel that he crossed paths with tried to snatch him up and throw him back in his cage… like he was some bothersome pup that needed to learn its place.
They didn’t know John Winchester. Every time they put him back, he broke free again in his search for Mary. He thought the angels were actually getting tired of finding him in other people’s Heaven (which would have been funny, if John wasn’t so intent on finding his wife). And once he ran into Ash and learned the tricks to the place, there was no holding John back.
He found Mary, in the arms of another man. Or not, actually, in his arms, but it was a fake John. Just like he’d had his own fake Mary. But the second Mary spotted the real him, the world lit up around her and she was rushing into his embrace. That other bastard with his face disappeared, and good riddance.
It was almost as big a fight to stay together as it had been to find Mary. When the angels found out that John had tracked down Mary, they wanted to split them up. Some shit about only soul mates getting to share eternity or some crap. Rather than being broken up, John and Mary went on the run together. Slipping through more ideas of Heaven than John could ever dream up, he and Mary laid low when they could, bolted when they had to, always clutching one another’s hands. If the angels did tear them apart, it would have to be literally.
Then, suddenly, the angels stopped. A big kahuna angel, Michael, swooped in, grabbed up them both, and dropped them in their home in Lawrence. It looked just like it had before the fire. It felt like a trick, but Michael had informed them of some structural changes in Heaven hinging on the newly-accepted exercising of free will and choice, and promised they would not be separated again unless they chose to be.
John was leery, but it was the last angel he and Mary ever saw. They were left alone to spend forever together.
Given time, John stopped waiting for an angel to try and take Mary away from him. He even began to embrace Heaven. Where Mary was always young and beautiful (in his eyes, she looked the same age as when he married her), the Impala needed work when he was bored but ran perfectly when he wanted to go for a drive, and the house was exactly as he remembered it but for two rooms… Sammy’s and Dean’s. Sammy’s nursery had bad memories, and Dean’s room... John remembered his son as a young man, so it felt strange to have a little boy’s room (which was all Mary remembered). So they decided to leave the rooms unfinished. Waiting for the boys to come home to them.
For once, John wasn’t in a hurry. He hoped, for his sons’ sakes, that it was a long time before they turned up in Heaven. He was patient and enjoyed his time with Mary.
The angels had been truthful about the administrative changes in Heaven, because they actually got visitors now and then. Mary’s parents, John’s, old friends from John’s times in the Marines. They came and went like neighbors, only instead of adjacent homes, they came from adjacent concepts of Heaven. And Mary and John visited others, sometimes… but mostly, they stayed home and waited for their boys. That was the only thing that could make Heaven the perfect resting place it was supposed to be.
They could always will their boys into existence, of course - the same way John had been greeted upon his arrival to Heaven by a fake Mary and Mary had been in the arms of a fake John - but Mary and John preferred to wait for the real thing.
It was a perfect sunrise and Mary was standing in the kitchen making a pie when John came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. She leaned back into him.
John perched his chin on her shoulder and looked down at her hands. “Mmmm… looks delicious.”
“You know it will be,” Mary answered. She chuckled, “Sometimes I wish it was actually possible to burn a pie in this place… perfect pie gets old after a while.”
John snorted. “I’m sure if it would really, really make you happy, you could burn a pie.” John kissed her neck, “But why the pie? Make a fruitcake and screw that up.”
Mary laughed, “How could you even tell if I botched a fruitcake? How would that taste any different from the best fruitcake in human history?”
“Good point,” John nuzzled her ear. “Why don’t we forget the desserts all together? I’ve got a better idea of how to waste away this fine morning…” He nibbled gently on her earlobe.
Mary turned in his arms, snaked hers around his neck, and kissed him. And it was always like the first kiss, but like the ones filled with years of intimate knowledge of each other, too. The best of both worlds. That part of Heaven John really liked.
John gathered her up, pressed her close to him, and he thrilled at how every touch here felt like the first one, full of wonder and discovery and joy, but how his hands knew like a husband everywhere to touch and how to hold her…
… when a sound like music balled into one harmonious tone filled the air. It had a distinctly rock-music flavor to it. Like guitars and drums making love.
Mary practically shivered in his arms. He felt her smile against his mouth. She drew away from his kiss, looked up into his eyes with an expression like the sun and just risen for the first time in a dark and lonely universe, and she breathed happily, “Dean…”
John knew she was right. Their oldest son had finally come home.
Mary grabbed John’s hand and hurried them outside, bursting on to a perfectly green, soft, sticker-free yard that called to bare feet.
Standing in the yard, looking a little disoriented, was their son. Dean Winchester. He looked only slightly older than the last time John had seen him before he died, but that didn’t mean much. In Heaven, no one was old unless they wanted to be. They were the age their heart told them to be, that they wanted to be, and virtually no one was elderly at heart. Time was confusing in Heaven, it slipped and slid awkwardly, but John could only hope Dean had come here only after knowing the aches and pains of advanced age… the aches and pains John and Mary never got to know. Maybe one day, they’d be old… just to know what it was like to have lived so long.
“Dean,” Mary called as they drew closer. She let go of John’s hand to race forward to her son.
Dean turned and looked at her. His face went from confused to wonderstruck. “Mom?”
Mother and son met in a powerful embrace, and John just stood back and watched them cling to one another. Mary had never gotten to do this before, look into the eyes of their grown son and hug him. She’d only ever known Dean as a happy, rambunctious child. She’d never seen the good man their son became.
“You’re finally here,” Mary laughed/sobbed into his shoulder, “we’ve been waiting for you, honey.”
Dean opened his eyes and looked over his mother’s shoulder toward John. John wondered, briefly, who Dean saw. Did John look like the world-weary hunter Dean had known, or was he the young man Mary saw? It was a curiosity of Heaven… one among many.
“Dad…”
John moved forward to hug his boy. “Good to see you, son.”
Dean let go of Mary only to replace her place in his arms with his father. John hugged Dean tight, and Heaven was one step closer to being perfect. One soul shy of right. But John could wait for the last piece of the Winchester puzzle… he wished Sam a long life.
When Dean let go first, John drew back and found Mary had come to stand alongside him so they could both look upon their son. There were so many questions, so much they’d missed in his life.
John opened his mouth to ask about Sam, but before he could get a word out, the sound of wings reached his ears and behind Dean appeared one of the angels.
Some angels appeared as inhuman columns of light, some as monster-esque chimeras of creatures, and others like humans with wings. This one was human, a man with great brown wings arching out from his shoulders. Rather than tucked primly behind his shoulders like most angels John had seen, this angel’s wings were half-open and moving restlessly… it looked anxious, though John had never known an angel to be anxious. But when he took a look at the angel’s face, he had to go with anxious again. The man was young, early twenties, with black hair, blue eyes, and the barest hint of freckles. There was something kind of familiar about him, actually… John tried to remember if he’d seen this particular angel before.
But vaguely-familiar face or not, John was not happy about this asshat busting in on his family’s reunion. He was going to tell the angel to fuck off when the angel visibly swallowed, his wings flexed jerkily, and he croaked, “Dad?”
Dean turned at once, facing the angel. “Daniel?”
The angel sucked in a breath… shit, it looked like he was going to cry. Or puke.
Dean left his parents’ side in an instant, striding quickly over to the angel. “Whoa, hey… what’s wrong?”
Daniel reached out and pulled Dean to him. First it was just a hug of arms, but then those big-ass wings got involved and wrapped around Dean. Dean closed his arms around the angel and ran a hand over the angel’s hair. “Hey, hey… shh… it’s okay.” It was a very gentle voice John only ever heard Dean use with Sam when Dean was playing the role of father moreso than brother.
The angel tucked his face against Dean’s neck and trembled… the feathers of his wings (a few of a darker brown than the others) quivered like a wet kitten in the cold.
Suddenly, another angel appeared a few paces away from Dean. This one looked strikingly like the first, only older, but so much like him (down to the dark hair, blue eyes, and brown wings) that John wondered if angels ever took siblings or father/son sets as vessels.
And like the first one, this angel looked stricken. In place of that haughty posturing of most angels, this one looked unsteady on its feet, too. He was staring at Dean and the angel Daniel, looking like he wanted to dive in and make it a group hug.
“Dean…” the second angel said lowly, in a raspy voice.
Dean turned his head to look at the second angel. “Cas, what’s wrong with Daniel?” A beat. “What’s wrong with you?”
The angel Cas took a steadying breath (though it didn’t appear to help much).
Dean disentangled himself from Daniel, gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, then crossed to stand in front of Cas. The older angel never took his eyes off Dean, like he was afraid to. When Dean was right in front of him, Cas said haltingly, “We were with you when you passed… it was a distressing experience.”
Dean huffed. “I get the feeling that’s an understatement.”
Cas took a shaky breath.
Dean reached up, curled his hand around Cas’s neck, and pulled him into a kiss.
John’s jaw dropped as Dean opened his mouth to this angel and the angel responded very enthusiastically. Cas kissed Dean back hungrily, clutching at him with his hands while his wings flexed and fanned to full span (and even John had to admit that was impressive). They were kissing like long-time lovers. They were kissing like they didn’t have an audience. Frankly, it was getting a little uncomfortable for John (who didn’t like angels, foremost, but second because the son he knew was attracted to women).
Dean broke the kiss, though the angel looked disappointed. Dean pressed his forehead to the angel’s, both closed their eyes to revel in the other’s presence, and Dean whispered, “I’m right here, Cas. Always.”
Cas reached up and laid a hand on either side of Dean’s neck, cradling the hunter’s jaw in his palms. “I love you, Dean.”
Dean smiled softly. “Love you, too.” Then he opened his eyes and drew back from the forehead touch. He looked into the angel’s eyes brightly. “Hey, come meet my folks.” Without waiting for confirmation from the angel, Dean reached down and took the angel’s hand. He started to lead him toward John and Mary. On the way, he gestured to the younger angel. “Daniel, come on, you too.”
John felt Mary’s hand slip into his when Dean and his entourage of angels stopped in front of them. Dean looked oddly bashful and proud and he looked between his mother and father before he clasped the younger angel around the shoulders. “Mom, Dad… this is our son, Daniel. Daniel, these are your grandparents, Mary and John Winchester.”
“Hello, Daniel,” Mary managed, and thank god for Mary. John hadn’t dislodged his tongue from the back of his throat.
Daniel ducked his head shyly. “Hello…” He side-stepped closer to Dean, acting much younger than his appearance suggested. But then, in Heaven, age was relative.
Dean next turned to the older angel whose hand he still held. “And this is my… this is Cas.”
“Castiel,” the angel amended, and he nodded respectfully at both of them. “Mary and John Winchester… it is an honor to meet the two of you.”
“Nice to meet you, Castiel,” Mary, again, saved the day. John glanced down at his wife and saw her taking it all in. The way Dean and Castiel were holding hands, how they’d kissed so passionately, how Dean introduced the younger angel (who very clearly belonged to Castiel) as their son…
Then she broke from John’s side to embrace Daniel. The young angel startled but returned the hug easily enough… like he’d been raised with the gesture. Then Mary moved on to Castiel, rising up on her toes to place a kiss on his cheek. She stepped back, beaming, and said, “I’m so happy you two could both be here. It’s wonderful to get to meet Dean’s family.”
And yeah… that’s exactly what they were. John couldn’t even pretend they could be anything else.
Dean grinned ear-to-ear at his mother’s heartfelt welcome of the angels in Dean’s life, then he looked up hopefully at John. Mary, too, turned her eyes to John.
And hell, when had the Winchester life ever been normal?
“Why don’t we go inside? We can all get to know each other.”
Dean looked like he wanted to die (again) in happiness. He threw a look over at Castiel (a look the angel returned warmly, and who knew angels could feel so genuinely) that had the secret language of life-long partners all over it.
Mary snagged Daniel’s arm and drew him toward the house. “So, Daniel… first thing’s first, you’re going to have to call me ‘grandma’… none of this Mary business, not from my grandson…”
Dean pulled Castiel forward to follow, but when the angel was abreast with John he stopped short. Dean glanced back once then proceeded on without him. John and Castiel regarded one another closely. The angel had a hell of a stare on him.
Castiel broke his stare-off with John to look after Dean briefly, then back to John. “I watched over him,” he said carefully.
John looked over at his wife, embracing this grandson with wings because he was Dean’s son and that’s all she needed to know. John looked at Dean, remembering the child he’d been when Mary put him to sleep with the whispered promise that angels were watching over him.
“I know,” John replied with a half-smile. From the look in the angel’s eyes, he couldn’t even imagine how fiercely. Knowing his son, Dean probably didn’t make it easy, either. But here Dean was, happy with a son and… angel-husband?
Totally not what John expected from Dean, but if it made his family happy, he could learn to like at least two angels.
If nothing else, how Dean and Cas happened should be a good story.
I haven’t fine-tooth combed this for spelling/grammar errors and whatnot, since it’s not a full-on proper fic. So fair warning it might not be as polished as most of my finished works.
Enjoy!
The one thing John Winchester couldn’t abide by in Heaven was angels. They were arrogant, superior, meddling douchebags. Of course, only having the angels to complain about was an improvement. When he first got to Heaven, he’d found his old home in Lawrence waiting for him, complete with his beloved wife… who he figured out very quickly wasn’t even his Mary. She was some concoction of his own mind, a shade, an imitation of her. Apparently - but for very special cases - everyone’s Heaven was their own.
Fuck that. So John Winchester busted out of his little cage in the clouds and went looking for Mary. His Mary. It wasn’t easy. Every angel that he crossed paths with tried to snatch him up and throw him back in his cage… like he was some bothersome pup that needed to learn its place.
They didn’t know John Winchester. Every time they put him back, he broke free again in his search for Mary. He thought the angels were actually getting tired of finding him in other people’s Heaven (which would have been funny, if John wasn’t so intent on finding his wife). And once he ran into Ash and learned the tricks to the place, there was no holding John back.
He found Mary, in the arms of another man. Or not, actually, in his arms, but it was a fake John. Just like he’d had his own fake Mary. But the second Mary spotted the real him, the world lit up around her and she was rushing into his embrace. That other bastard with his face disappeared, and good riddance.
It was almost as big a fight to stay together as it had been to find Mary. When the angels found out that John had tracked down Mary, they wanted to split them up. Some shit about only soul mates getting to share eternity or some crap. Rather than being broken up, John and Mary went on the run together. Slipping through more ideas of Heaven than John could ever dream up, he and Mary laid low when they could, bolted when they had to, always clutching one another’s hands. If the angels did tear them apart, it would have to be literally.
Then, suddenly, the angels stopped. A big kahuna angel, Michael, swooped in, grabbed up them both, and dropped them in their home in Lawrence. It looked just like it had before the fire. It felt like a trick, but Michael had informed them of some structural changes in Heaven hinging on the newly-accepted exercising of free will and choice, and promised they would not be separated again unless they chose to be.
John was leery, but it was the last angel he and Mary ever saw. They were left alone to spend forever together.
Given time, John stopped waiting for an angel to try and take Mary away from him. He even began to embrace Heaven. Where Mary was always young and beautiful (in his eyes, she looked the same age as when he married her), the Impala needed work when he was bored but ran perfectly when he wanted to go for a drive, and the house was exactly as he remembered it but for two rooms… Sammy’s and Dean’s. Sammy’s nursery had bad memories, and Dean’s room... John remembered his son as a young man, so it felt strange to have a little boy’s room (which was all Mary remembered). So they decided to leave the rooms unfinished. Waiting for the boys to come home to them.
For once, John wasn’t in a hurry. He hoped, for his sons’ sakes, that it was a long time before they turned up in Heaven. He was patient and enjoyed his time with Mary.
The angels had been truthful about the administrative changes in Heaven, because they actually got visitors now and then. Mary’s parents, John’s, old friends from John’s times in the Marines. They came and went like neighbors, only instead of adjacent homes, they came from adjacent concepts of Heaven. And Mary and John visited others, sometimes… but mostly, they stayed home and waited for their boys. That was the only thing that could make Heaven the perfect resting place it was supposed to be.
They could always will their boys into existence, of course - the same way John had been greeted upon his arrival to Heaven by a fake Mary and Mary had been in the arms of a fake John - but Mary and John preferred to wait for the real thing.
It was a perfect sunrise and Mary was standing in the kitchen making a pie when John came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. She leaned back into him.
John perched his chin on her shoulder and looked down at her hands. “Mmmm… looks delicious.”
“You know it will be,” Mary answered. She chuckled, “Sometimes I wish it was actually possible to burn a pie in this place… perfect pie gets old after a while.”
John snorted. “I’m sure if it would really, really make you happy, you could burn a pie.” John kissed her neck, “But why the pie? Make a fruitcake and screw that up.”
Mary laughed, “How could you even tell if I botched a fruitcake? How would that taste any different from the best fruitcake in human history?”
“Good point,” John nuzzled her ear. “Why don’t we forget the desserts all together? I’ve got a better idea of how to waste away this fine morning…” He nibbled gently on her earlobe.
Mary turned in his arms, snaked hers around his neck, and kissed him. And it was always like the first kiss, but like the ones filled with years of intimate knowledge of each other, too. The best of both worlds. That part of Heaven John really liked.
John gathered her up, pressed her close to him, and he thrilled at how every touch here felt like the first one, full of wonder and discovery and joy, but how his hands knew like a husband everywhere to touch and how to hold her…
… when a sound like music balled into one harmonious tone filled the air. It had a distinctly rock-music flavor to it. Like guitars and drums making love.
Mary practically shivered in his arms. He felt her smile against his mouth. She drew away from his kiss, looked up into his eyes with an expression like the sun and just risen for the first time in a dark and lonely universe, and she breathed happily, “Dean…”
John knew she was right. Their oldest son had finally come home.
Mary grabbed John’s hand and hurried them outside, bursting on to a perfectly green, soft, sticker-free yard that called to bare feet.
Standing in the yard, looking a little disoriented, was their son. Dean Winchester. He looked only slightly older than the last time John had seen him before he died, but that didn’t mean much. In Heaven, no one was old unless they wanted to be. They were the age their heart told them to be, that they wanted to be, and virtually no one was elderly at heart. Time was confusing in Heaven, it slipped and slid awkwardly, but John could only hope Dean had come here only after knowing the aches and pains of advanced age… the aches and pains John and Mary never got to know. Maybe one day, they’d be old… just to know what it was like to have lived so long.
“Dean,” Mary called as they drew closer. She let go of John’s hand to race forward to her son.
Dean turned and looked at her. His face went from confused to wonderstruck. “Mom?”
Mother and son met in a powerful embrace, and John just stood back and watched them cling to one another. Mary had never gotten to do this before, look into the eyes of their grown son and hug him. She’d only ever known Dean as a happy, rambunctious child. She’d never seen the good man their son became.
“You’re finally here,” Mary laughed/sobbed into his shoulder, “we’ve been waiting for you, honey.”
Dean opened his eyes and looked over his mother’s shoulder toward John. John wondered, briefly, who Dean saw. Did John look like the world-weary hunter Dean had known, or was he the young man Mary saw? It was a curiosity of Heaven… one among many.
“Dad…”
John moved forward to hug his boy. “Good to see you, son.”
Dean let go of Mary only to replace her place in his arms with his father. John hugged Dean tight, and Heaven was one step closer to being perfect. One soul shy of right. But John could wait for the last piece of the Winchester puzzle… he wished Sam a long life.
When Dean let go first, John drew back and found Mary had come to stand alongside him so they could both look upon their son. There were so many questions, so much they’d missed in his life.
John opened his mouth to ask about Sam, but before he could get a word out, the sound of wings reached his ears and behind Dean appeared one of the angels.
Some angels appeared as inhuman columns of light, some as monster-esque chimeras of creatures, and others like humans with wings. This one was human, a man with great brown wings arching out from his shoulders. Rather than tucked primly behind his shoulders like most angels John had seen, this angel’s wings were half-open and moving restlessly… it looked anxious, though John had never known an angel to be anxious. But when he took a look at the angel’s face, he had to go with anxious again. The man was young, early twenties, with black hair, blue eyes, and the barest hint of freckles. There was something kind of familiar about him, actually… John tried to remember if he’d seen this particular angel before.
But vaguely-familiar face or not, John was not happy about this asshat busting in on his family’s reunion. He was going to tell the angel to fuck off when the angel visibly swallowed, his wings flexed jerkily, and he croaked, “Dad?”
Dean turned at once, facing the angel. “Daniel?”
The angel sucked in a breath… shit, it looked like he was going to cry. Or puke.
Dean left his parents’ side in an instant, striding quickly over to the angel. “Whoa, hey… what’s wrong?”
Daniel reached out and pulled Dean to him. First it was just a hug of arms, but then those big-ass wings got involved and wrapped around Dean. Dean closed his arms around the angel and ran a hand over the angel’s hair. “Hey, hey… shh… it’s okay.” It was a very gentle voice John only ever heard Dean use with Sam when Dean was playing the role of father moreso than brother.
The angel tucked his face against Dean’s neck and trembled… the feathers of his wings (a few of a darker brown than the others) quivered like a wet kitten in the cold.
Suddenly, another angel appeared a few paces away from Dean. This one looked strikingly like the first, only older, but so much like him (down to the dark hair, blue eyes, and brown wings) that John wondered if angels ever took siblings or father/son sets as vessels.
And like the first one, this angel looked stricken. In place of that haughty posturing of most angels, this one looked unsteady on its feet, too. He was staring at Dean and the angel Daniel, looking like he wanted to dive in and make it a group hug.
“Dean…” the second angel said lowly, in a raspy voice.
Dean turned his head to look at the second angel. “Cas, what’s wrong with Daniel?” A beat. “What’s wrong with you?”
The angel Cas took a steadying breath (though it didn’t appear to help much).
Dean disentangled himself from Daniel, gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, then crossed to stand in front of Cas. The older angel never took his eyes off Dean, like he was afraid to. When Dean was right in front of him, Cas said haltingly, “We were with you when you passed… it was a distressing experience.”
Dean huffed. “I get the feeling that’s an understatement.”
Cas took a shaky breath.
Dean reached up, curled his hand around Cas’s neck, and pulled him into a kiss.
John’s jaw dropped as Dean opened his mouth to this angel and the angel responded very enthusiastically. Cas kissed Dean back hungrily, clutching at him with his hands while his wings flexed and fanned to full span (and even John had to admit that was impressive). They were kissing like long-time lovers. They were kissing like they didn’t have an audience. Frankly, it was getting a little uncomfortable for John (who didn’t like angels, foremost, but second because the son he knew was attracted to women).
Dean broke the kiss, though the angel looked disappointed. Dean pressed his forehead to the angel’s, both closed their eyes to revel in the other’s presence, and Dean whispered, “I’m right here, Cas. Always.”
Cas reached up and laid a hand on either side of Dean’s neck, cradling the hunter’s jaw in his palms. “I love you, Dean.”
Dean smiled softly. “Love you, too.” Then he opened his eyes and drew back from the forehead touch. He looked into the angel’s eyes brightly. “Hey, come meet my folks.” Without waiting for confirmation from the angel, Dean reached down and took the angel’s hand. He started to lead him toward John and Mary. On the way, he gestured to the younger angel. “Daniel, come on, you too.”
John felt Mary’s hand slip into his when Dean and his entourage of angels stopped in front of them. Dean looked oddly bashful and proud and he looked between his mother and father before he clasped the younger angel around the shoulders. “Mom, Dad… this is our son, Daniel. Daniel, these are your grandparents, Mary and John Winchester.”
“Hello, Daniel,” Mary managed, and thank god for Mary. John hadn’t dislodged his tongue from the back of his throat.
Daniel ducked his head shyly. “Hello…” He side-stepped closer to Dean, acting much younger than his appearance suggested. But then, in Heaven, age was relative.
Dean next turned to the older angel whose hand he still held. “And this is my… this is Cas.”
“Castiel,” the angel amended, and he nodded respectfully at both of them. “Mary and John Winchester… it is an honor to meet the two of you.”
“Nice to meet you, Castiel,” Mary, again, saved the day. John glanced down at his wife and saw her taking it all in. The way Dean and Castiel were holding hands, how they’d kissed so passionately, how Dean introduced the younger angel (who very clearly belonged to Castiel) as their son…
Then she broke from John’s side to embrace Daniel. The young angel startled but returned the hug easily enough… like he’d been raised with the gesture. Then Mary moved on to Castiel, rising up on her toes to place a kiss on his cheek. She stepped back, beaming, and said, “I’m so happy you two could both be here. It’s wonderful to get to meet Dean’s family.”
And yeah… that’s exactly what they were. John couldn’t even pretend they could be anything else.
Dean grinned ear-to-ear at his mother’s heartfelt welcome of the angels in Dean’s life, then he looked up hopefully at John. Mary, too, turned her eyes to John.
And hell, when had the Winchester life ever been normal?
“Why don’t we go inside? We can all get to know each other.”
Dean looked like he wanted to die (again) in happiness. He threw a look over at Castiel (a look the angel returned warmly, and who knew angels could feel so genuinely) that had the secret language of life-long partners all over it.
Mary snagged Daniel’s arm and drew him toward the house. “So, Daniel… first thing’s first, you’re going to have to call me ‘grandma’… none of this Mary business, not from my grandson…”
Dean pulled Castiel forward to follow, but when the angel was abreast with John he stopped short. Dean glanced back once then proceeded on without him. John and Castiel regarded one another closely. The angel had a hell of a stare on him.
Castiel broke his stare-off with John to look after Dean briefly, then back to John. “I watched over him,” he said carefully.
John looked over at his wife, embracing this grandson with wings because he was Dean’s son and that’s all she needed to know. John looked at Dean, remembering the child he’d been when Mary put him to sleep with the whispered promise that angels were watching over him.
“I know,” John replied with a half-smile. From the look in the angel’s eyes, he couldn’t even imagine how fiercely. Knowing his son, Dean probably didn’t make it easy, either. But here Dean was, happy with a son and… angel-husband?
Totally not what John expected from Dean, but if it made his family happy, he could learn to like at least two angels.
If nothing else, how Dean and Cas happened should be a good story.