A Lesson in Friendship (Dean/Castiel, PG-13)
Title: A Lesson in Friendship
Author: exmanhater
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Spoilers: Through 5.22
Word Count: 6,800
Summary: In which Dean tries to figure out how a grown man can have a non-apocalypse-centered friendship with an angel, Castiel knows Dean’s priorities and is generally very helpful, and Sam just wishes they’d both get a damn clue.
A/N: Written for the fourth round of Secret Angels at deancastiel, originally posted there and re-posted here so that I have all my fic in one place.
This is not how Dean had thought his reunion with Sam would go, in those few moments when he’d imagined they could even have a reunion. He’d expected tears, hugging, manly expressions of guilt and forgiveness - pretty much anything but this.
Dean tries the door handle again. No change, not that he’d expected any. Castiel had seemed pretty firm when he’d closed the door an hour ago and said “I’m not letting you out until you’re friends again” in that angel of the lord tone of voice. Getting into a screaming fight with your newly returned from hell brother outside of a bar in the middle of North Dakota is apparently all it takes to get heaven’s new sheriff to visit after a six month absence.
Dean’s pissed that Castiel had been the one to track Sam down and convince him to tell Dean that he was alive. Sam had seemingly been content letting Dean think he was gone forever.
“This is all your fault,” Sam says from across the room after a fruitless attempt to open one of the sealed windows. “You know that, right?”
Dean has a nervous tic developing near his right eye. “It is not!” he replies. “I’m not the one who got back from hell and didn’t tell anyone and decided to become a creepy peeping tom and then show up out of nowhere!”
“Yeah, well, I’m not the one who had a fit when I did try to tell you I was back and whose crazy angel stalker stuck us both in this room and removed all the exits!” Sam yells back.
The ridiculousness of the situation hits them both at the same time and Dean laughs nervously while Sam runs a hand through his hair, sheepish expression firmly in place.
“Look,” says Sam eventually, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was back. I still don’t know how it happened, and I think something bad might be behind it and I didn’t want to get you involved.”
Dean snorts. “Man, I thought we were over that sacrificial bullshit. Killing yourself to save the world wasn’t enough?”
Sam moves closer to Dean, an easy thing to do in the tiny space where they’re stuck.
“You looked okay, the last time I saw you at Lisa’s,” Sam says, almost like it’s a question, and Dean figures it probably is and tries to answer.
“Yeah, Lisa was really great, helped me get back on my feet and kept me from overdosing on whiskey,” he replies. “Funny thing though, she didn’t seem to think I was the best role model for her kid. Must have been all the demon hunting.”
Sam looks at him sharply and Dean tries for a steady tone. “I know, I thought I could do it, too,” he says, as Sam keeps that gaze on him. “There was this water spirit that kept killing boaters and then a witch making trouble - anyway, I couldn’t just let it go. Turns out I wasn’t really made for domestic life. But Lisa still keeps in touch, and I get to be Ben’s crazy uncle who sends him cool shit, so I’m better off than before, you know?”
Sam sighs. “Yeah, I guess.”
“And anyway,” continues Dean, “if you really don’t know how or why you’re back, you’re going to need my help to figure it out.”
“I’d like that,” Sam says hopefully. “You and me, on the road again.”
Dean grins. “Sounds like a plan.”
Sam smiles then, a small and slightly lopsided smile, but it makes Dean lose his cool and he marches over to hug his brother the way he’s been wanting to since he first saw Sam, standing outside the bar looking nervous and excited.
After a few moments, they pull back, and Dean politely ignores the wet tracks on Sam’s cheeks and goes to the door and knocks.
“Cas?” he calls.
A grumpy-sounding “what?” comes from the other side of the door.
Dean doesn’t hide his grin. “We’re all ready to leave now.”
“Are you going to keep yelling at each other?” Cas asks warily.
“No,” says Sam, from behind Dean. “We’re making nice, we promise.”
"I don't know if I should believe you," Cas replies, but the door opens and Dean loses his balance and falls right into Castiel’s arms. Cas stares at him for a long moment, which isn’t unusual in itself, but Dean feels kind of weird all the same, and hurries to right himself.
“Sorry,” he mutters to Cas, even though it’s totally Castiel’s fault for locking them up in the first place.
Sam looks around while Dean and Cas extricate themselves. “Where are we?” he asks. “This obviously isn’t the bar.”
“It’s the teacher’s lounge at the high school in this town,” Castiel replies. “I can send you back to your motels, if you are sure you don’t have any more arguing to do.”
Sam shakes his head. “Thanks, Cas, but I think I’ll just walk. My motel’s close, and I need to clear my head.”
Dean moves to protest, then thinks better of it. There’s no need to ruin their truce with over-protective big brother behavior now. “Okay,” he tells Sam. “Goodnight, and we’re having breakfast in the morning, nine am at that diner on the main drag.”
Sam looks surprised at Dean’s lack of protest, but says goodnight and leaves, promising to make it to breakfast. Castiel reaches for Dean then, pointing two fingers at his forehead, but Dean ducks at the last second.
“Whoa, hold on there,” he says. “We’re walking back, you know how much I hate the angel express.” He pauses, suddenly unsure. “I mean, unless you need to leave?”
Castiel’s face softens just the tiniest bit. On him it’s practically a smile. “I’m happy to walk back with you,” he says, and Dean ignores how comfortable the whole thing is all the way back.
When they get to his room a little later, Dean sinks down onto the bed gratefully. It’s been a long night. Cas watches from the doorway, looking almost tentative, so Dean pats the space beside him on the bed.
“Take a load off, Cas,” he offers. “I’ve got a question for you.”
Castiel sits, not looking as out of place as Dean had been expecting, even though he’s still wearing his full suit and trench coat regalia.
“Why do you care?” Dean asks, not waiting for the right moment since it will never come. “Why did you want Sam to find me?” Why is this the first time you’ve come back to see me, he wants to but doesn’t ask.
“Heaven is extremely boring,” Cas says lightly, like he’s trying to make a joke. “I’ve beaten up all the angels that needed it and decided to work on a harder challenge.”
Dean doesn’t know what he expected, but he knows it isn’t that. “C’mon, tell me the real reason. Well, later you have to tell me who you beat up, too, but tell me the truth.”
Castiel sighs and looks away. “You aren’t happy without Sam,” he says quietly. “He isn’t happy without you, either, which made it clear that someone should connect you again since he was too worried to risk upsetting you. When I saw that he’d done as I’d suggested and found you, and that you were fighting, I had to do something.”
Dean knows he must look clueless. “Happy? Yeah, I guess not, but what’s it to you?”
“You’re my friend, Dean,” Castiel says firmly. “I don’t have so many of those that I can ignore any of them. It took me a while to realize it,” he adds, “but I plan to make up for that now.”
Dean manages an “oh,” and stares at the floor, still very confused.
A minute later Castiel leaves without saying goodbye and Dean is too busy thinking about his last words to make the usual disparaging remark about Castiel’s inability to master simple greetings and farewells.
+++
The next morning Dean walks into the diner and heads for the back of Sam’s shaggy head at a far booth. He stops abruptly when he sees Castiel sitting opposite his brother. They’re deep in conversation, but as soon as Dean shows himself they clam up.
“Good morning,” Castiel says formally, then ruins it by adding, “Sam and I were just discussing how much heaven sucks.”
Sam sniggers as he and Cas share a glance that Dean finds highly suspicious.
“Yeah, no argument from me about that,” he says as he takes a seat next to Cas. Sam raises an eyebrow at him and Dean ignores it studiously. “It’s your home, though, right? You must like being able to go back now.”
Castiel slumps forward a fraction. “Yes, it is my home, but try to imagine being the only person in all of heaven capable of independent thought.” He grimaces and continues, “well, not the only one, but very close to it. I think I understand why God stays away, at least a little bit.”
“Made any changes?” Dean asks, genuinely curious.
Castiel looks shifty and proud, which contorts his face in a very strange way. Dean tries to smother the thought that it’s endearing.
“I made some new rules,” Cas says. “We’re working on ways to create our own original vessels instead of using human bodies.” He frowns. “Anna had a unique situation regarding her body, but by studying it we may be able to use it to our advantage, and in the mean time, no one is allowed to take a new vessel.”
Dean and Sam exchange a surprised look. “So is that Jimmy you’re wearing?” Sam asks.
“Yes, it is his body, but he’s in heaven, and has been for some time.” Castiel’s voice is steady but Dean hears the difference in how he speaks of Jimmy now, and how he used to. “I have his permission to use it as my own,” Cas continues.
“Sounds like a good change to me,” Dean offers, thinking of how Cas has become more and more human while still remaining vast and sort of unknowable. There is something else hovering in the corners of Dean’s mind, an awareness he’s not quite sure he’s ready to face, so he puts it aside for now.
Sam asks some technical questions, then, which lead to a conversation about some of the plans Cas has for various heavenly troublemakers. It lasts for a while before Cas decides he has to leave and gets up to go, pushing Dean out of the booth in front of him.
“Wait,” Dean says, once he’s back in his seat, “you’re walking out of a restaurant?”
Cas frowns. “I can walk, you know,” he says mulishly, and stalks off.
Sam laughs. “You better go apologize,” he tells Dean. “You don’t want to get locked up in any more teachers’ lounges, do you?”
Dean sighs and stands up.
“Hey, Cas, wait up!” Dean jogs around the corner of the street a few seconds later and only comes to a stop when he reaches Castiel, who looks at him with a bewildered stare.
“I, uh, I wanted to say thanks, you know, for all the help you’ve given me, and Sam,” Dean starts awkwardly. “I know - I mean, I am your friend, that goes both ways, okay? And Sam is your friend, too.”
Castiel still looks confused, but Dean thinks he can see some contentment underneath.
“I know,” Cas says. “Thank you.”
Dean feels incredibly odd about this whole exchange, so he just says, “Okay, well, I’ll let you get back to beating people up in heaven, but don’t be a stranger,” and heads back toward the diner. He feels Castiel’s eyes on him until he turns the corner.
+++
The next few weeks settle into a familiar rhythm of research, exorcisms, and shitty motel rooms, and Dean hasn’t been happier since before his dad died. He and Sam are finally in agreement about their direction, and it lifts a heavy burden from his shoulders to have that again. Each case they take is over in a week at the most, and they only encounter two demons (both completely garden variety with no higher connections or plans). It’s amazing to discover that he likes his life again, likes hunting and traveling and saving people from all the dangers they don’t even know about.
They stop by to visit Bobby and undergo the usual barrage of tests to prove their humanity, after which they’re treated to a long hug each. Dean doesn’t admit to anything, but Sam teases him about crying for the rest of the day. Bobby sneaks looks at Sam all the time, which Dean notices because he’s been doing that, too. Sam either doesn’t realize, or just decides to let them do it.
Sam still doesn’t know how he escaped from hell. When Dean asked him about what it had been like (one more shared Winchester experience), he’d been unable to get Sam to go into detail. It hadn’t been the regular hell that Dean remembered, just a room with no way out. The only thing Sam said, which, granted, did make Dean feel better, was: "Look, I'm not saying it was rose petals and champagne, but listening to Lucifer mope and whine about how his wonderful plans were wrecked was way better than I'd been expecting, it being hell and all."
So they mostly ignore the issue, until Dean has a brilliant idea.
“We should call Cas,” he says one night while they’re both watching an awful made-for-TV action movie.
“Huh?” Sam looks over and scrunches up his forehead. Dean still isn’t used to seeing that again and it makes his heart twist uncomfortably with gratitude.
“Cas,” he repeats. “He got resurrected and now he’s like Super Angel. If he doesn’t know how you escaped, I bet he can find out. And uh, he said heaven was kind of boring, so I bet he could use a break.” He doesn’t tell Sam that he’s been looking for an excuse to finagle another visit.
Sam glances at him sideways, an unreadable look on his face. “Okay,” he replies. “Why don’t you call him tomorrow?”
“Sure,” Dean says, doing his best to sound nonchalant.
He spends the rest of the night trying not to be excited and wondering why the hell he is.
+++
“Do you have any beer?” Castiel pops into the motel room the next night with a huff and throws himself down on a chair.
Dean smirks. “That kind of day, huh?” He hands Castiel a can of beer from the mini-fridge and watches with amusement as Cas downs it in one long gulp, his throat working steadily. Castiel sets the empty can down on the floor and sighs.
“Yes,” he says. “I couldn’t wait for the end of it. Gejudiel decided to advocate for equal rights for the cupids, which everyone else vehemently fought against, and Raphael is still mad at me about the holy oil trap and the bitch comment. He disagrees with everything I suggest, even if it’s clearly the best option. I could force the issue, but I don’t want to use violence for every decision I have to make.”
“Sounds rough,” Dean says, not really feeling qualified to comment on angelic power struggles, other than to call them all dicks.
Cas looks down and back up at Dean again quickly and says, “I’m glad you called.”
Dean smiles. “Me, too.”
Sam gets back then, two pizza boxes in his arms, and his presence jolts Dean into remembering that Cas is visiting for a reason. They all sit, and Dean and Sam eat while Cas occasionally picks off a topping to nibble. Sam explains what he’d like help with, and Castiel frowns.
“I don’t know how you were freed,” he says. “I looked into it briefly when I first noticed you were back, but I can try and find out more now, if you’d like.”
“Thanks,” Sam says earnestly. “I just want to make sure I’m safe to be around.”
“And I want to make sure he’s safe,” Dean adds, since Sam’s really going for the noble self-sacrifice award of the year, here.
Sam scowls at him, but Castiel nods with approval.
“I will see what I can find,” he promises, then blinks out of the room suddenly.
Sam just laughs and finishes his pizza, but Dean feels sort of bereft.
Later that night when he’s supposed to be sleeping, Dean realizes that when he used the term “friend,” he’d always meant something like “ally” or “coworker” (if you considered stopping the apocalypse to be a valid job description).
Now that the big fight is over, maybe friend means something different. It must, because how else can he explain the enjoyment he gets out of listening to Cas bitch about his day, out of just seeing him? It’s different from how he feels about Sam, and Bobby. Ellen and Jo were family, too, when they were alive. It’s not like his relationship with Lisa, who is his friend now, he guesses, or Cassie, who hadn’t been a friend so much as a lover.
Dean is not entirely shocked to discover that Cas just might be his first actual adult non-familial friend. He vows then and there to never even think about this in front of Sam. He’d never live it down.
Castiel comes to see them every few days after that. He chats with Dean about everything and nothing, and while it’s not anything like a normal person’s small talk, it’s probably as close as an angel and a Winchester can ever get. He hasn’t been able to find any firm answers, but Castiel pushes his theory that God is behind Sam’s resurrection.
“It’s the only answer that fits all of the facts,” he insists one afternoon. “Sam does not have any mark of demonic interference and his body appears to be brand new. And we know that demons cannot break into that part of hell, not on their own, or Lucifer would have been freed as well by now.”
“When have things ever been that easy for us?” Sam asks wearily, and Dean silently agrees.
Castiel looks at them solemnly. “It hasn’t been easy for you, no, but I believe that you both deserve far more reward than the return of Sam’s life for all the things you have done.”
Dean swallows a lifetime of not measuring up and just gives Cas a wry grin, but Sam looks like he might cry.
“Should I give you two a moment?” Dean asks jokingly.
Sam swats his arm in retaliation. “I can’t just give up looking,” Sam tells Castiel. “But thanks for saying that - I’m not as worried as I was before.”
Castiel’s face softens into an expression that looks something like satisfaction as he turns to look at Dean then, and Dean’s chest gives a funny little twinge.
Having a friend is nice, and having a friend who understands how he feels about Sam is even better.
+++
The day Cas brings Sam a very special present is when Dean becomes irredeemably and blindly jealous, which kind of messes with the whole “grown-up friendship” theory.
“Is that? Holy fuck!” Sam exclaims as Castiel places a large and musty scroll carefully in front of him.
“Yes,” Cas says smugly. “A collection of spells, rituals and other knowledge in the original Egyptian, part of a set written during the twenty-fifth dynasty. I can translate, if you’d like.”
“I can probably get some of it,” Sam says absently. He’s reverently gazing at the scroll, and Dean is just about to break out the geek jokes when Sam asks where Cas got it.
“From the Library of Alexandria,” Cas answers.
“Wait, really?” Sam asks, shocked. “The one that burned down over two thousand years ago and was lost forever?”
“Yes,” Castiel says, even more pleased with himself. “I snuck back in time and stole it from the occult collection. I believe it contains a ritual we can use to ascertain who freed you from hell.”
His words thud in Dean’s mind. Castiel went back in time and broke into a library for Sam - Sam! Dean has the irrational idea that Cas should only break rules for him. It’s tradition, after all.
To make matters worse, as soon as Dean recovers from the first wave of ridiculous jealousy, they leave to go read the scroll together. Seriously.
Dean gets a “see you later” from Sam and a stare from Castiel (which makes him feel a little better - Cas still only stares at Dean, after all) and then they’re gone.
“Son of a bitch,” Dean says out loud. “That twerp is stealing my only friend.”
This kind of adolescent self-reflection is clearly draining his testosterone, so with that Dean decides that he hasn’t given the Impala a good seeing to in a while, and he loses the whole afternoon to car maintenance. It helps to dissipate the weird jealousy, but Dean still feels unsettled.
Sam gets back late. When he comes into the room alone, without Cas or his precious scroll, Dean can’t help it and asks, “where’s your new best friend?” in a snotty voice.
Sam is clearly in a good mood, practically vibrating with geeky joy. “Cas is awesome,” he says. “The scroll does have a reference to a ritual that we can use to see who broke me out of hell. It works on a deeper level than even Castiel can get to, so it might show us something new. It took a while to make sure we had all of the words correctly translated and then Cas went to check out some of the ingredients.”
Dean is torn. That’s obviously good news, but it’s also proof that Sam and Cas are about to become wonder nerds together and forget all about him.
“That’s great,” he says weakly.
Sam finally catches on to Dean’s tone and just looks at him for a moment. Then he starts laughing, the jerk.
“Dean,” Sam gasps, “are you jealous?”
“What? No,” scoffs Dean immediately.
“You are, you totally are!” Sam laughs again, and grabs Dean by the shoulder.
“You do know that people are allowed to have more than one friend at a time, right?” he asks condescendingly.
Dean squashes the urge to whine, “but Cas is mine!”
“Yes,” he mumbles, moving away from Sam’s grip.
“Or maybe it’s that you finally realized that you want Cas to be more than just your friend,” Sam continues.
“What?”
“Oh, he’s just your platonic soul mate?” Sam rolls his eyes. “Get a clue, Dean, you have serious feelings for someone you can actually have. It had to happen sometime.”
“I can’t have Cas, what are you talking about?” Dean freezes. “Uh, not that I want him, obviously.”
Sam takes Dean by both shoulders then and makes a very serious face. “For fuck’s sake, Dean, did you not notice the way Castiel rebelled against heaven, got killed, lost his grace, and then got killed again, all for you, and how he got us back together and keeps leaving his job as head honcho in heaven to hang out with you and drink shitty beer?”
Dean has never put it all together like that before, but now that he thinks about it, he wonders why Cas made all those decisions. It can’t be because of him, not entirely. That would be - Dean doesn’t want to think about what that would be.
Sam looks martyred and shakes Dean slightly. “Good grief, it’s nauseating, okay? It’s the world’s stupidest gay romance novel. Do you know what it’s like to have to watch you two eye fuck or whatever it is you do when you stare at each other for hours at a time?”
Dean just shakes his head in disbelief and Sam lets him go and heads toward the bathroom.
“Just do something about it, okay? Trust me, he likes you, too,” Sam says.
Dean looks up sharply, remembering Sam and Castiel’s tendency to stop talking whenever he comes into the room, and moves to keep Sam from closing the bathroom door. “What do you know?” he asks.
Sam can’t hide his guilty expression, and Dean’s stomach inches up toward his throat at the thought of Sam and Castiel gossiping about him, and his apparently obvious crush, or whatever this nonsense is about. It makes him mad, and when Sam doesn’t say anything, he gets right up in Sam’s face and glares.
“What. Do. You. Know?” he growls.
Sam shrugs his shoulders helplessly. “Not much, I swear - it’s mostly just what I suspect.” He arches an eyebrow at Dean. “Which you’re pretty much confirming right now, by the way.”
Dean’s been immune to the eyebrow lift for years now, so he just keeps glaring and Sam lets out a deep breath.
“Fine, all I know is that he wants you to be happy - he keeps asking me how you’re doing, if you want to go back to Lisa, if there’s anything he can do. That sort of thing. Which seems like an obvious sign, to me.” Sam pushes Dean way from the doorway and begins to close the door.
“Man up, Dean,” he says before the door shuts completely.
Dean sinks into a chair after a minute of just watching the door and does his best to start a process of selective amnesia, but all he can think about is Castiel. The way he stares, and the expressions that are becoming more and more noticeable on his face. The way he knows Dean, knows what’s important to him. The way Dean sort of wants him around all the time, and not just for talking. Not exactly friendship, in the purest sense.
Okay, fine, Sam might have a point, but he’s not going to admit that, not in a million years.
When Sam gets out of the bathroom, Dean is wearing a cheesy grin and suggests a late night snack and maybe a game of pool. Sam looks like he wants to say something, but Dean keeps up a steady stream of meaningless chatter and Sam eventually gives up.
Even without Sam goading him, Dean doesn’t think about anything but Castiel for the rest of the night.
+++
Castiel arrives a week later and announces that he has everything they need to complete the ritual. Dean and Sam had managed to take care of one haunting and a poltergeist while waiting, but there’s not anything else useful they can do in this town, so they’re ready to move on and agree to do the ritual that night. Dean is almost running out of ways to deflect Sam’s interest in his non-existent love life, so while he’s apprehensive about spending time with Castiel, he’s grateful that Sam shuts up once Cas arrives.
They spend the afternoon in an abandoned warehouse, getting everything ready. For Dean, that means watching Sam and Castiel do strange things to various herbs and substances, loudly disparaging the bad smells, and doing any heavy lifting they need help with. Once all the ingredients are set up, Castiel starts to prep the physical space while he and Sam talk about the specifics.
Dean tries to ignore his newfound awareness, but it’s difficult when Castiel is talking so seriously. Just listening to Cas outline the procedures of the ritual is making Dean itch to push him against a wall to have that voice speaking right into his ear.
Sam gives him a knowing look and keeps asking Castiel questions.
“Was there really a secret occult section of the Alexandrian Library? I thought they were big on science, not religion.”
“Yes,” Cas says absently, dipping a brush into the pot of holy oil and preparing to draw symbols on the floor. “The collection was not advertised, but it existed in a small underground room. It only appeared to those who knew it was there.” Cas kneels down and begins dripping the oil into intricate patterns. “Many small pieces of religious and spiritual knowledge disappeared when the library burnt, but only a few people knew the true value of what was lost.”
Dean and Sam just watch Castiel work since they aren’t allowed to help with the symbol painting, but then Sam has to prepare himself by washing with a mixture of herbs, so he leaves to do that privately. After Sam’s been gone for a while, Dean opens his mouth, but Cas beats him to it.
“Yes, Dean,” he says fondly, not looking up from the floor. “The ritual is perfectly safe for Sam, and for us. It only reveals anything or anyone that has recently been in contact with his soul.”
“I wasn’t - that’s not what I was going to say,” Dean protests weakly.
“Yes, it is,” Castiel says. “You have asked the same question three times now.”
Dean shrugs his shoulders. “Well, I’m being thorough.”
Cas makes a quiet noise of agreement and continues painting on the floor. “I admire that in you,” he says. “The way you care so completely about Sam. About your family.”
Jesus, what can Dean say to that? His throat closes up with emotions he doesn’t want to name, but he manages to speak and then immediately wishes that he hadn’t. “Thanks, I. I think maybe we should talk? After this, I mean.”
Cas finally looks up and over his shoulder, a secretive smile curving his lips ever so slightly. “Okay,” he says simply, like he knows what Dean means. Dean wishes someone would tell him what the hell he means.
Things are about to get even more awkward, Dean can just tell, but then Sam gets back, hair wet and smelling of incense and stinky plants. He looks at Dean, standing with a red face against the wall, and then Castiel, and shakes his head.
“Don’t tell me,” he says. “Are we ready?”
Castiel looks at the floor where he’s just finished covering the oil symbols with the same herb mixture Sam washed himself in. “Yes,” he says, standing up and moving away from the symbols he’s drawn. “Dean, do you have the bracelet?”
Dean pulls the bit of braided leather and feverfew, plus some other plants, out of his pocket and nods.
“Right,” says Castiel. “Take it and tie it around Sam’s wrist, then kiss the knot you make.”
“Is the kissing necessary?” Dean complains.
Castiel nods. “It’s a protection, to make sure Sam comes to no harm.”
“I’d just like to go on the record as saying that I hate magic,” Dean mutters, following Castiel’s instructions. Sam grins at him and Castiel doesn’t even seem to notice.
“Sam, you must take the oil and use it to create a circle around all the symbols,” Cas continues. “Dean and I cannot cross into it.”
Dean steps back and Sam completes the circle, then sits down cross-legged in the middle while Castiel and Dean light candles at four points around the circle and Sam.
Castiel takes the scroll then, and asks Sam if he’s ready. Sam nods and Dean edges a bit further away from the circle, watching Cas as he begins to speak. After just a few moments of waiting, smoke curls around Sam and he closes his eyes. Dean and Cas can only watch now. The ritual will only affect Sam, so he’ll be the one to see any of the revelations they’re hoping to find. Despite Castiel’s reassurances, Dean is still somewhat worried, and Cas must know, because he stands close to Dean and murmurs, “nothing will go wrong,” in a calming tone.
“Who’s worried?” Dean bluffs, eyes fastened on Sam in the middle of the circle, but the words do loosen the knot of apprehension in his chest a bit. They wait for ten minutes, and then the smoke disappears as quickly as it came. Sam opens his eyes and blinks a few times, then stands and stretches.
“Well?” Dean says. “Don’t keep us in suspense, man.”
Sam frowns, a tiny furrow cutting into his forehead. “Nothing,” he says.
Cas and Dean both look at him with surprise. “Nothing?” Dean repeats. “What does that mean?”
“It means nothing,” Sam says. “My soul was wiped clean. If anything did have their hands on it, they used heavy duty gloves and didn’t leave a trace of DNA.” He paused and looked down. “I don’t even have Azazel’s blood in me anymore.”
Castiel tilts his head thoughtfully. “There were no traces of your previous abilities?” he asks.
Sam shook his head. “None. It was like Azazel, the demon blood, even Lucifer possessing me, just never happened.”
“Then I believe my first thought was correct,” Cas says. “God is the only one who could have removed all traces of the demonic from your soul, freed you without letting Lucifer go as well, and restored your body perfectly.”
“But we can’t exactly prove that, can we?” Dean says, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. “We can think it all we want, but we’ll never know for sure.”
Castiel nods. “That’s true, but it’s the best answer we’re going to get right now, and since Sam’s not in any immediate danger, I suggest we take it. I couldn’t prove to you that it was God who restored me, either, but I believe it, and can’t find a better explanation.”
“I can live with that, and if I get any urges to do something evil, I’ll let you both know,” Sam says, grimacing when he catches a whiff of his own odor. “I can’t believe I took a bath in this stuff, though. I need a long shower.”
Dean agrees completely, and now that Sam’s pretty much safe, he doesn’t even try to stop focusing on Cas, who watches him carefully as they clean up the warehouse and leave. Neither of them say anything, but Dean knows Castiel is deliberately going back with him instead of leaving for heaven. He suddenly feels the inevitability of it, as if he and Cas have been working toward this moment since they first met.
Dean’s throat dries out and the drive back is silent.
+++
When they get back to the motel room, Sam wastes no time in grabbing his stuff and getting a separate room. When Dean gives him the stink eye, he just says, “I’m going to shower for a few hours, and then I’m going out for a celebratory drink, and I don’t want to wake you up when I get back” and leaves before Dean can get it together enough to stop him.
The part of Dean that’s not completely messed up because of Cas vows to make fun of Sam relentlessly for being a yenta. The rest of him sort of stares at the floor, but it only takes a few seconds of that for him to push down his nervousness and reach out for what he wants.
Castiel hasn’t moved from his spot near the door, and Dean’s suspicion that Cas knows exactly what Dean’s been thinking about is confirmed when he catches Castiel’s eyes slipping down to watch Dean’s mouth. It gives Dean confidence, or maybe it just brings his confidence back to the surface. Either way, he knows what to do now.
“Sam thinks I’m jealous,” he starts, moving to stand in front of Cas.
Castiel looks puzzled by this topic of conversation. “Jealous of what?”
“You and him, being friends,” Dean replies. “I kind of got mad when you stole that scroll for him, and then spent all day geeking out with him and ignoring me.”
Castiel smiles then, understanding, and Dean returns it.
“Dean,” Cas says, in this warm and rough voice Dean’s never heard before. “I enjoy Sam’s company. But I wouldn’t even know Sam if it weren’t for you. I could never confuse the way I feel about you for the way I feel about him.”
Dean leans closer in, just inches away from the unexpected heat emanating from Cas’s body.
“I never told you,” Dean says, watching Castiel’s eyes, focused so completely on him. “I never said how grateful I was that you chose us, that you helped Sam even when you didn’t have any reason to, that you stuck it out even when you didn’t think we’d make it.”
Castiel reaches out and presses his hand onto Dean’s shoulder, heavy with promise. “I have made many decisions by myself since I met you, and you were always on my mind when I made them,” he says. “It wasn’t just because I care about you, though, it was also because you were right, and you showed me, made me believe it.”
“I’m glad,” Dean says, trying to keep his eyes on Castiel’s and not on his mouth, so close that he can see the chapped lips in perfect detail. “I’m not glad you lost so much,” he continues, “but I’m glad you’re still here with me.”
Castiel pulls Dean further in until they’re standing pressed together, then carefully kisses him, and Dean doesn’t resist, just moves his mouth over Cas’s with relief, enjoying the precise way Cas kisses, the heat and pressure of his lips, the way he tastes. It’s a short kiss, just the first of what Dean hopes will be many, and when he pulls away he thinks of something Sam said. “I don’t want to go back to Lisa,” he blurts out. “You make me happy, you know that, right?”
Castiel’s face breaks into an expression of fierce, possessive satisfaction, and he nods as he pulls Dean back down for another kiss, this one deeper and longer. When Dean finally breaks free to draw a shuddery breath, Castiel looks amused and debauched, red lips under knowing eyes.
“So I guess we’re not really friends,” Dean says, and Castiel smirks at him and settles his hands around Dean’s waist.
“Of course we’re friends,” he whispers against Dean’s neck in between kisses. “Loving you does not mean I have to stop liking you. I have always liked you.”
“Um, I, oh,” Dean says intelligently, but Cas doesn’t seem to mind because he kisses Dean again and guides them both to the bed, and Dean can’t speak coherently again until the next morning.
They spend the night being decidedly more than friends.
+++
After that, nothing really changes, except now when Castiel visits, Dean can usually expect some kind of sexual gratification to follow. Dean and Sam are still on the road, Cas still has a realm full of angels to deal with, and none of them are exactly what most people would call mentally healthy, but they’re together and mostly happy, and that’s all that matters to them.
Castiel drops in on Sam and Dean in the middle of a hunt one day when they’re both trapped in an old house and immediately ruins Dean’s fun by setting Old Man Chappelle’s bones (outside under the willow tree) on fire before Sam can get to them. The wind disappears and the couch stops throwing itself at Dean, which means he has to stop using the axe he’s holding as a baseball bat. He’d really been enjoying carving chunks out of the couch whenever it came at him.
Sam gets to his feet and shoots a grateful look at Cas. “Good timing,” he says. “I couldn’t make it outside.”
Cas is busy taking in Dean’s disheveled appearance, so Dean stares back and tries to figure out if it’s turning Cas on, or if he’s mad about “reckless behavior” again. Odds are about fifty-fifty, based on past experience.
The way Cas’s eyes linger on his ass is a dead giveaway, though, and Dean gleefully starts preparing for a night of blasphemous depravity while they get their stuff together.
“You do remember that I’m not a damsel in distress, right?” Dean asks as they all walk out of the house, because it never hurts to do a little teasing.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Castiel says smoothly. “I needed to ask Sam about a book I believe he borrowed from Bobby. It’s not always about you, Dean.”
Dean turns and gapes, because that was the best insult delivery he’s ever heard from Castiel, and he’s kind of impressed. At least, he is until he notices Sam beaming at Cas like a proud coach.
“God,” mutters Dean, walking quickly back to the Impala, “one of them wasn’t enough? I just had to go and get another one.”
He watches Sam duck into the front seat and meets Castiel’s eyes over the top of the car as Cas opens the door behind Sam. They stare at each other for old times’ sake, until Sam bangs on the roof, and then they both get in and he starts the engine and heads down the dirt road carefully. Dean gives Sam grief about hitting his car and Sam makes fun of Dean for caring so much, which somehow leads to an argument about Led Zeppelin, and Castiel watches with amusement from the backseat.
Just another day.
The End.
Author: exmanhater
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Spoilers: Through 5.22
Word Count: 6,800
Summary: In which Dean tries to figure out how a grown man can have a non-apocalypse-centered friendship with an angel, Castiel knows Dean’s priorities and is generally very helpful, and Sam just wishes they’d both get a damn clue.
A/N: Written for the fourth round of Secret Angels at deancastiel, originally posted there and re-posted here so that I have all my fic in one place.
This is not how Dean had thought his reunion with Sam would go, in those few moments when he’d imagined they could even have a reunion. He’d expected tears, hugging, manly expressions of guilt and forgiveness - pretty much anything but this.
Dean tries the door handle again. No change, not that he’d expected any. Castiel had seemed pretty firm when he’d closed the door an hour ago and said “I’m not letting you out until you’re friends again” in that angel of the lord tone of voice. Getting into a screaming fight with your newly returned from hell brother outside of a bar in the middle of North Dakota is apparently all it takes to get heaven’s new sheriff to visit after a six month absence.
Dean’s pissed that Castiel had been the one to track Sam down and convince him to tell Dean that he was alive. Sam had seemingly been content letting Dean think he was gone forever.
“This is all your fault,” Sam says from across the room after a fruitless attempt to open one of the sealed windows. “You know that, right?”
Dean has a nervous tic developing near his right eye. “It is not!” he replies. “I’m not the one who got back from hell and didn’t tell anyone and decided to become a creepy peeping tom and then show up out of nowhere!”
“Yeah, well, I’m not the one who had a fit when I did try to tell you I was back and whose crazy angel stalker stuck us both in this room and removed all the exits!” Sam yells back.
The ridiculousness of the situation hits them both at the same time and Dean laughs nervously while Sam runs a hand through his hair, sheepish expression firmly in place.
“Look,” says Sam eventually, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was back. I still don’t know how it happened, and I think something bad might be behind it and I didn’t want to get you involved.”
Dean snorts. “Man, I thought we were over that sacrificial bullshit. Killing yourself to save the world wasn’t enough?”
Sam moves closer to Dean, an easy thing to do in the tiny space where they’re stuck.
“You looked okay, the last time I saw you at Lisa’s,” Sam says, almost like it’s a question, and Dean figures it probably is and tries to answer.
“Yeah, Lisa was really great, helped me get back on my feet and kept me from overdosing on whiskey,” he replies. “Funny thing though, she didn’t seem to think I was the best role model for her kid. Must have been all the demon hunting.”
Sam looks at him sharply and Dean tries for a steady tone. “I know, I thought I could do it, too,” he says, as Sam keeps that gaze on him. “There was this water spirit that kept killing boaters and then a witch making trouble - anyway, I couldn’t just let it go. Turns out I wasn’t really made for domestic life. But Lisa still keeps in touch, and I get to be Ben’s crazy uncle who sends him cool shit, so I’m better off than before, you know?”
Sam sighs. “Yeah, I guess.”
“And anyway,” continues Dean, “if you really don’t know how or why you’re back, you’re going to need my help to figure it out.”
“I’d like that,” Sam says hopefully. “You and me, on the road again.”
Dean grins. “Sounds like a plan.”
Sam smiles then, a small and slightly lopsided smile, but it makes Dean lose his cool and he marches over to hug his brother the way he’s been wanting to since he first saw Sam, standing outside the bar looking nervous and excited.
After a few moments, they pull back, and Dean politely ignores the wet tracks on Sam’s cheeks and goes to the door and knocks.
“Cas?” he calls.
A grumpy-sounding “what?” comes from the other side of the door.
Dean doesn’t hide his grin. “We’re all ready to leave now.”
“Are you going to keep yelling at each other?” Cas asks warily.
“No,” says Sam, from behind Dean. “We’re making nice, we promise.”
"I don't know if I should believe you," Cas replies, but the door opens and Dean loses his balance and falls right into Castiel’s arms. Cas stares at him for a long moment, which isn’t unusual in itself, but Dean feels kind of weird all the same, and hurries to right himself.
“Sorry,” he mutters to Cas, even though it’s totally Castiel’s fault for locking them up in the first place.
Sam looks around while Dean and Cas extricate themselves. “Where are we?” he asks. “This obviously isn’t the bar.”
“It’s the teacher’s lounge at the high school in this town,” Castiel replies. “I can send you back to your motels, if you are sure you don’t have any more arguing to do.”
Sam shakes his head. “Thanks, Cas, but I think I’ll just walk. My motel’s close, and I need to clear my head.”
Dean moves to protest, then thinks better of it. There’s no need to ruin their truce with over-protective big brother behavior now. “Okay,” he tells Sam. “Goodnight, and we’re having breakfast in the morning, nine am at that diner on the main drag.”
Sam looks surprised at Dean’s lack of protest, but says goodnight and leaves, promising to make it to breakfast. Castiel reaches for Dean then, pointing two fingers at his forehead, but Dean ducks at the last second.
“Whoa, hold on there,” he says. “We’re walking back, you know how much I hate the angel express.” He pauses, suddenly unsure. “I mean, unless you need to leave?”
Castiel’s face softens just the tiniest bit. On him it’s practically a smile. “I’m happy to walk back with you,” he says, and Dean ignores how comfortable the whole thing is all the way back.
When they get to his room a little later, Dean sinks down onto the bed gratefully. It’s been a long night. Cas watches from the doorway, looking almost tentative, so Dean pats the space beside him on the bed.
“Take a load off, Cas,” he offers. “I’ve got a question for you.”
Castiel sits, not looking as out of place as Dean had been expecting, even though he’s still wearing his full suit and trench coat regalia.
“Why do you care?” Dean asks, not waiting for the right moment since it will never come. “Why did you want Sam to find me?” Why is this the first time you’ve come back to see me, he wants to but doesn’t ask.
“Heaven is extremely boring,” Cas says lightly, like he’s trying to make a joke. “I’ve beaten up all the angels that needed it and decided to work on a harder challenge.”
Dean doesn’t know what he expected, but he knows it isn’t that. “C’mon, tell me the real reason. Well, later you have to tell me who you beat up, too, but tell me the truth.”
Castiel sighs and looks away. “You aren’t happy without Sam,” he says quietly. “He isn’t happy without you, either, which made it clear that someone should connect you again since he was too worried to risk upsetting you. When I saw that he’d done as I’d suggested and found you, and that you were fighting, I had to do something.”
Dean knows he must look clueless. “Happy? Yeah, I guess not, but what’s it to you?”
“You’re my friend, Dean,” Castiel says firmly. “I don’t have so many of those that I can ignore any of them. It took me a while to realize it,” he adds, “but I plan to make up for that now.”
Dean manages an “oh,” and stares at the floor, still very confused.
A minute later Castiel leaves without saying goodbye and Dean is too busy thinking about his last words to make the usual disparaging remark about Castiel’s inability to master simple greetings and farewells.
+++
The next morning Dean walks into the diner and heads for the back of Sam’s shaggy head at a far booth. He stops abruptly when he sees Castiel sitting opposite his brother. They’re deep in conversation, but as soon as Dean shows himself they clam up.
“Good morning,” Castiel says formally, then ruins it by adding, “Sam and I were just discussing how much heaven sucks.”
Sam sniggers as he and Cas share a glance that Dean finds highly suspicious.
“Yeah, no argument from me about that,” he says as he takes a seat next to Cas. Sam raises an eyebrow at him and Dean ignores it studiously. “It’s your home, though, right? You must like being able to go back now.”
Castiel slumps forward a fraction. “Yes, it is my home, but try to imagine being the only person in all of heaven capable of independent thought.” He grimaces and continues, “well, not the only one, but very close to it. I think I understand why God stays away, at least a little bit.”
“Made any changes?” Dean asks, genuinely curious.
Castiel looks shifty and proud, which contorts his face in a very strange way. Dean tries to smother the thought that it’s endearing.
“I made some new rules,” Cas says. “We’re working on ways to create our own original vessels instead of using human bodies.” He frowns. “Anna had a unique situation regarding her body, but by studying it we may be able to use it to our advantage, and in the mean time, no one is allowed to take a new vessel.”
Dean and Sam exchange a surprised look. “So is that Jimmy you’re wearing?” Sam asks.
“Yes, it is his body, but he’s in heaven, and has been for some time.” Castiel’s voice is steady but Dean hears the difference in how he speaks of Jimmy now, and how he used to. “I have his permission to use it as my own,” Cas continues.
“Sounds like a good change to me,” Dean offers, thinking of how Cas has become more and more human while still remaining vast and sort of unknowable. There is something else hovering in the corners of Dean’s mind, an awareness he’s not quite sure he’s ready to face, so he puts it aside for now.
Sam asks some technical questions, then, which lead to a conversation about some of the plans Cas has for various heavenly troublemakers. It lasts for a while before Cas decides he has to leave and gets up to go, pushing Dean out of the booth in front of him.
“Wait,” Dean says, once he’s back in his seat, “you’re walking out of a restaurant?”
Cas frowns. “I can walk, you know,” he says mulishly, and stalks off.
Sam laughs. “You better go apologize,” he tells Dean. “You don’t want to get locked up in any more teachers’ lounges, do you?”
Dean sighs and stands up.
“Hey, Cas, wait up!” Dean jogs around the corner of the street a few seconds later and only comes to a stop when he reaches Castiel, who looks at him with a bewildered stare.
“I, uh, I wanted to say thanks, you know, for all the help you’ve given me, and Sam,” Dean starts awkwardly. “I know - I mean, I am your friend, that goes both ways, okay? And Sam is your friend, too.”
Castiel still looks confused, but Dean thinks he can see some contentment underneath.
“I know,” Cas says. “Thank you.”
Dean feels incredibly odd about this whole exchange, so he just says, “Okay, well, I’ll let you get back to beating people up in heaven, but don’t be a stranger,” and heads back toward the diner. He feels Castiel’s eyes on him until he turns the corner.
+++
The next few weeks settle into a familiar rhythm of research, exorcisms, and shitty motel rooms, and Dean hasn’t been happier since before his dad died. He and Sam are finally in agreement about their direction, and it lifts a heavy burden from his shoulders to have that again. Each case they take is over in a week at the most, and they only encounter two demons (both completely garden variety with no higher connections or plans). It’s amazing to discover that he likes his life again, likes hunting and traveling and saving people from all the dangers they don’t even know about.
They stop by to visit Bobby and undergo the usual barrage of tests to prove their humanity, after which they’re treated to a long hug each. Dean doesn’t admit to anything, but Sam teases him about crying for the rest of the day. Bobby sneaks looks at Sam all the time, which Dean notices because he’s been doing that, too. Sam either doesn’t realize, or just decides to let them do it.
Sam still doesn’t know how he escaped from hell. When Dean asked him about what it had been like (one more shared Winchester experience), he’d been unable to get Sam to go into detail. It hadn’t been the regular hell that Dean remembered, just a room with no way out. The only thing Sam said, which, granted, did make Dean feel better, was: "Look, I'm not saying it was rose petals and champagne, but listening to Lucifer mope and whine about how his wonderful plans were wrecked was way better than I'd been expecting, it being hell and all."
So they mostly ignore the issue, until Dean has a brilliant idea.
“We should call Cas,” he says one night while they’re both watching an awful made-for-TV action movie.
“Huh?” Sam looks over and scrunches up his forehead. Dean still isn’t used to seeing that again and it makes his heart twist uncomfortably with gratitude.
“Cas,” he repeats. “He got resurrected and now he’s like Super Angel. If he doesn’t know how you escaped, I bet he can find out. And uh, he said heaven was kind of boring, so I bet he could use a break.” He doesn’t tell Sam that he’s been looking for an excuse to finagle another visit.
Sam glances at him sideways, an unreadable look on his face. “Okay,” he replies. “Why don’t you call him tomorrow?”
“Sure,” Dean says, doing his best to sound nonchalant.
He spends the rest of the night trying not to be excited and wondering why the hell he is.
+++
“Do you have any beer?” Castiel pops into the motel room the next night with a huff and throws himself down on a chair.
Dean smirks. “That kind of day, huh?” He hands Castiel a can of beer from the mini-fridge and watches with amusement as Cas downs it in one long gulp, his throat working steadily. Castiel sets the empty can down on the floor and sighs.
“Yes,” he says. “I couldn’t wait for the end of it. Gejudiel decided to advocate for equal rights for the cupids, which everyone else vehemently fought against, and Raphael is still mad at me about the holy oil trap and the bitch comment. He disagrees with everything I suggest, even if it’s clearly the best option. I could force the issue, but I don’t want to use violence for every decision I have to make.”
“Sounds rough,” Dean says, not really feeling qualified to comment on angelic power struggles, other than to call them all dicks.
Cas looks down and back up at Dean again quickly and says, “I’m glad you called.”
Dean smiles. “Me, too.”
Sam gets back then, two pizza boxes in his arms, and his presence jolts Dean into remembering that Cas is visiting for a reason. They all sit, and Dean and Sam eat while Cas occasionally picks off a topping to nibble. Sam explains what he’d like help with, and Castiel frowns.
“I don’t know how you were freed,” he says. “I looked into it briefly when I first noticed you were back, but I can try and find out more now, if you’d like.”
“Thanks,” Sam says earnestly. “I just want to make sure I’m safe to be around.”
“And I want to make sure he’s safe,” Dean adds, since Sam’s really going for the noble self-sacrifice award of the year, here.
Sam scowls at him, but Castiel nods with approval.
“I will see what I can find,” he promises, then blinks out of the room suddenly.
Sam just laughs and finishes his pizza, but Dean feels sort of bereft.
Later that night when he’s supposed to be sleeping, Dean realizes that when he used the term “friend,” he’d always meant something like “ally” or “coworker” (if you considered stopping the apocalypse to be a valid job description).
Now that the big fight is over, maybe friend means something different. It must, because how else can he explain the enjoyment he gets out of listening to Cas bitch about his day, out of just seeing him? It’s different from how he feels about Sam, and Bobby. Ellen and Jo were family, too, when they were alive. It’s not like his relationship with Lisa, who is his friend now, he guesses, or Cassie, who hadn’t been a friend so much as a lover.
Dean is not entirely shocked to discover that Cas just might be his first actual adult non-familial friend. He vows then and there to never even think about this in front of Sam. He’d never live it down.
Castiel comes to see them every few days after that. He chats with Dean about everything and nothing, and while it’s not anything like a normal person’s small talk, it’s probably as close as an angel and a Winchester can ever get. He hasn’t been able to find any firm answers, but Castiel pushes his theory that God is behind Sam’s resurrection.
“It’s the only answer that fits all of the facts,” he insists one afternoon. “Sam does not have any mark of demonic interference and his body appears to be brand new. And we know that demons cannot break into that part of hell, not on their own, or Lucifer would have been freed as well by now.”
“When have things ever been that easy for us?” Sam asks wearily, and Dean silently agrees.
Castiel looks at them solemnly. “It hasn’t been easy for you, no, but I believe that you both deserve far more reward than the return of Sam’s life for all the things you have done.”
Dean swallows a lifetime of not measuring up and just gives Cas a wry grin, but Sam looks like he might cry.
“Should I give you two a moment?” Dean asks jokingly.
Sam swats his arm in retaliation. “I can’t just give up looking,” Sam tells Castiel. “But thanks for saying that - I’m not as worried as I was before.”
Castiel’s face softens into an expression that looks something like satisfaction as he turns to look at Dean then, and Dean’s chest gives a funny little twinge.
Having a friend is nice, and having a friend who understands how he feels about Sam is even better.
+++
The day Cas brings Sam a very special present is when Dean becomes irredeemably and blindly jealous, which kind of messes with the whole “grown-up friendship” theory.
“Is that? Holy fuck!” Sam exclaims as Castiel places a large and musty scroll carefully in front of him.
“Yes,” Cas says smugly. “A collection of spells, rituals and other knowledge in the original Egyptian, part of a set written during the twenty-fifth dynasty. I can translate, if you’d like.”
“I can probably get some of it,” Sam says absently. He’s reverently gazing at the scroll, and Dean is just about to break out the geek jokes when Sam asks where Cas got it.
“From the Library of Alexandria,” Cas answers.
“Wait, really?” Sam asks, shocked. “The one that burned down over two thousand years ago and was lost forever?”
“Yes,” Castiel says, even more pleased with himself. “I snuck back in time and stole it from the occult collection. I believe it contains a ritual we can use to ascertain who freed you from hell.”
His words thud in Dean’s mind. Castiel went back in time and broke into a library for Sam - Sam! Dean has the irrational idea that Cas should only break rules for him. It’s tradition, after all.
To make matters worse, as soon as Dean recovers from the first wave of ridiculous jealousy, they leave to go read the scroll together. Seriously.
Dean gets a “see you later” from Sam and a stare from Castiel (which makes him feel a little better - Cas still only stares at Dean, after all) and then they’re gone.
“Son of a bitch,” Dean says out loud. “That twerp is stealing my only friend.”
This kind of adolescent self-reflection is clearly draining his testosterone, so with that Dean decides that he hasn’t given the Impala a good seeing to in a while, and he loses the whole afternoon to car maintenance. It helps to dissipate the weird jealousy, but Dean still feels unsettled.
Sam gets back late. When he comes into the room alone, without Cas or his precious scroll, Dean can’t help it and asks, “where’s your new best friend?” in a snotty voice.
Sam is clearly in a good mood, practically vibrating with geeky joy. “Cas is awesome,” he says. “The scroll does have a reference to a ritual that we can use to see who broke me out of hell. It works on a deeper level than even Castiel can get to, so it might show us something new. It took a while to make sure we had all of the words correctly translated and then Cas went to check out some of the ingredients.”
Dean is torn. That’s obviously good news, but it’s also proof that Sam and Cas are about to become wonder nerds together and forget all about him.
“That’s great,” he says weakly.
Sam finally catches on to Dean’s tone and just looks at him for a moment. Then he starts laughing, the jerk.
“Dean,” Sam gasps, “are you jealous?”
“What? No,” scoffs Dean immediately.
“You are, you totally are!” Sam laughs again, and grabs Dean by the shoulder.
“You do know that people are allowed to have more than one friend at a time, right?” he asks condescendingly.
Dean squashes the urge to whine, “but Cas is mine!”
“Yes,” he mumbles, moving away from Sam’s grip.
“Or maybe it’s that you finally realized that you want Cas to be more than just your friend,” Sam continues.
“What?”
“Oh, he’s just your platonic soul mate?” Sam rolls his eyes. “Get a clue, Dean, you have serious feelings for someone you can actually have. It had to happen sometime.”
“I can’t have Cas, what are you talking about?” Dean freezes. “Uh, not that I want him, obviously.”
Sam takes Dean by both shoulders then and makes a very serious face. “For fuck’s sake, Dean, did you not notice the way Castiel rebelled against heaven, got killed, lost his grace, and then got killed again, all for you, and how he got us back together and keeps leaving his job as head honcho in heaven to hang out with you and drink shitty beer?”
Dean has never put it all together like that before, but now that he thinks about it, he wonders why Cas made all those decisions. It can’t be because of him, not entirely. That would be - Dean doesn’t want to think about what that would be.
Sam looks martyred and shakes Dean slightly. “Good grief, it’s nauseating, okay? It’s the world’s stupidest gay romance novel. Do you know what it’s like to have to watch you two eye fuck or whatever it is you do when you stare at each other for hours at a time?”
Dean just shakes his head in disbelief and Sam lets him go and heads toward the bathroom.
“Just do something about it, okay? Trust me, he likes you, too,” Sam says.
Dean looks up sharply, remembering Sam and Castiel’s tendency to stop talking whenever he comes into the room, and moves to keep Sam from closing the bathroom door. “What do you know?” he asks.
Sam can’t hide his guilty expression, and Dean’s stomach inches up toward his throat at the thought of Sam and Castiel gossiping about him, and his apparently obvious crush, or whatever this nonsense is about. It makes him mad, and when Sam doesn’t say anything, he gets right up in Sam’s face and glares.
“What. Do. You. Know?” he growls.
Sam shrugs his shoulders helplessly. “Not much, I swear - it’s mostly just what I suspect.” He arches an eyebrow at Dean. “Which you’re pretty much confirming right now, by the way.”
Dean’s been immune to the eyebrow lift for years now, so he just keeps glaring and Sam lets out a deep breath.
“Fine, all I know is that he wants you to be happy - he keeps asking me how you’re doing, if you want to go back to Lisa, if there’s anything he can do. That sort of thing. Which seems like an obvious sign, to me.” Sam pushes Dean way from the doorway and begins to close the door.
“Man up, Dean,” he says before the door shuts completely.
Dean sinks into a chair after a minute of just watching the door and does his best to start a process of selective amnesia, but all he can think about is Castiel. The way he stares, and the expressions that are becoming more and more noticeable on his face. The way he knows Dean, knows what’s important to him. The way Dean sort of wants him around all the time, and not just for talking. Not exactly friendship, in the purest sense.
Okay, fine, Sam might have a point, but he’s not going to admit that, not in a million years.
When Sam gets out of the bathroom, Dean is wearing a cheesy grin and suggests a late night snack and maybe a game of pool. Sam looks like he wants to say something, but Dean keeps up a steady stream of meaningless chatter and Sam eventually gives up.
Even without Sam goading him, Dean doesn’t think about anything but Castiel for the rest of the night.
+++
Castiel arrives a week later and announces that he has everything they need to complete the ritual. Dean and Sam had managed to take care of one haunting and a poltergeist while waiting, but there’s not anything else useful they can do in this town, so they’re ready to move on and agree to do the ritual that night. Dean is almost running out of ways to deflect Sam’s interest in his non-existent love life, so while he’s apprehensive about spending time with Castiel, he’s grateful that Sam shuts up once Cas arrives.
They spend the afternoon in an abandoned warehouse, getting everything ready. For Dean, that means watching Sam and Castiel do strange things to various herbs and substances, loudly disparaging the bad smells, and doing any heavy lifting they need help with. Once all the ingredients are set up, Castiel starts to prep the physical space while he and Sam talk about the specifics.
Dean tries to ignore his newfound awareness, but it’s difficult when Castiel is talking so seriously. Just listening to Cas outline the procedures of the ritual is making Dean itch to push him against a wall to have that voice speaking right into his ear.
Sam gives him a knowing look and keeps asking Castiel questions.
“Was there really a secret occult section of the Alexandrian Library? I thought they were big on science, not religion.”
“Yes,” Cas says absently, dipping a brush into the pot of holy oil and preparing to draw symbols on the floor. “The collection was not advertised, but it existed in a small underground room. It only appeared to those who knew it was there.” Cas kneels down and begins dripping the oil into intricate patterns. “Many small pieces of religious and spiritual knowledge disappeared when the library burnt, but only a few people knew the true value of what was lost.”
Dean and Sam just watch Castiel work since they aren’t allowed to help with the symbol painting, but then Sam has to prepare himself by washing with a mixture of herbs, so he leaves to do that privately. After Sam’s been gone for a while, Dean opens his mouth, but Cas beats him to it.
“Yes, Dean,” he says fondly, not looking up from the floor. “The ritual is perfectly safe for Sam, and for us. It only reveals anything or anyone that has recently been in contact with his soul.”
“I wasn’t - that’s not what I was going to say,” Dean protests weakly.
“Yes, it is,” Castiel says. “You have asked the same question three times now.”
Dean shrugs his shoulders. “Well, I’m being thorough.”
Cas makes a quiet noise of agreement and continues painting on the floor. “I admire that in you,” he says. “The way you care so completely about Sam. About your family.”
Jesus, what can Dean say to that? His throat closes up with emotions he doesn’t want to name, but he manages to speak and then immediately wishes that he hadn’t. “Thanks, I. I think maybe we should talk? After this, I mean.”
Cas finally looks up and over his shoulder, a secretive smile curving his lips ever so slightly. “Okay,” he says simply, like he knows what Dean means. Dean wishes someone would tell him what the hell he means.
Things are about to get even more awkward, Dean can just tell, but then Sam gets back, hair wet and smelling of incense and stinky plants. He looks at Dean, standing with a red face against the wall, and then Castiel, and shakes his head.
“Don’t tell me,” he says. “Are we ready?”
Castiel looks at the floor where he’s just finished covering the oil symbols with the same herb mixture Sam washed himself in. “Yes,” he says, standing up and moving away from the symbols he’s drawn. “Dean, do you have the bracelet?”
Dean pulls the bit of braided leather and feverfew, plus some other plants, out of his pocket and nods.
“Right,” says Castiel. “Take it and tie it around Sam’s wrist, then kiss the knot you make.”
“Is the kissing necessary?” Dean complains.
Castiel nods. “It’s a protection, to make sure Sam comes to no harm.”
“I’d just like to go on the record as saying that I hate magic,” Dean mutters, following Castiel’s instructions. Sam grins at him and Castiel doesn’t even seem to notice.
“Sam, you must take the oil and use it to create a circle around all the symbols,” Cas continues. “Dean and I cannot cross into it.”
Dean steps back and Sam completes the circle, then sits down cross-legged in the middle while Castiel and Dean light candles at four points around the circle and Sam.
Castiel takes the scroll then, and asks Sam if he’s ready. Sam nods and Dean edges a bit further away from the circle, watching Cas as he begins to speak. After just a few moments of waiting, smoke curls around Sam and he closes his eyes. Dean and Cas can only watch now. The ritual will only affect Sam, so he’ll be the one to see any of the revelations they’re hoping to find. Despite Castiel’s reassurances, Dean is still somewhat worried, and Cas must know, because he stands close to Dean and murmurs, “nothing will go wrong,” in a calming tone.
“Who’s worried?” Dean bluffs, eyes fastened on Sam in the middle of the circle, but the words do loosen the knot of apprehension in his chest a bit. They wait for ten minutes, and then the smoke disappears as quickly as it came. Sam opens his eyes and blinks a few times, then stands and stretches.
“Well?” Dean says. “Don’t keep us in suspense, man.”
Sam frowns, a tiny furrow cutting into his forehead. “Nothing,” he says.
Cas and Dean both look at him with surprise. “Nothing?” Dean repeats. “What does that mean?”
“It means nothing,” Sam says. “My soul was wiped clean. If anything did have their hands on it, they used heavy duty gloves and didn’t leave a trace of DNA.” He paused and looked down. “I don’t even have Azazel’s blood in me anymore.”
Castiel tilts his head thoughtfully. “There were no traces of your previous abilities?” he asks.
Sam shook his head. “None. It was like Azazel, the demon blood, even Lucifer possessing me, just never happened.”
“Then I believe my first thought was correct,” Cas says. “God is the only one who could have removed all traces of the demonic from your soul, freed you without letting Lucifer go as well, and restored your body perfectly.”
“But we can’t exactly prove that, can we?” Dean says, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. “We can think it all we want, but we’ll never know for sure.”
Castiel nods. “That’s true, but it’s the best answer we’re going to get right now, and since Sam’s not in any immediate danger, I suggest we take it. I couldn’t prove to you that it was God who restored me, either, but I believe it, and can’t find a better explanation.”
“I can live with that, and if I get any urges to do something evil, I’ll let you both know,” Sam says, grimacing when he catches a whiff of his own odor. “I can’t believe I took a bath in this stuff, though. I need a long shower.”
Dean agrees completely, and now that Sam’s pretty much safe, he doesn’t even try to stop focusing on Cas, who watches him carefully as they clean up the warehouse and leave. Neither of them say anything, but Dean knows Castiel is deliberately going back with him instead of leaving for heaven. He suddenly feels the inevitability of it, as if he and Cas have been working toward this moment since they first met.
Dean’s throat dries out and the drive back is silent.
+++
When they get back to the motel room, Sam wastes no time in grabbing his stuff and getting a separate room. When Dean gives him the stink eye, he just says, “I’m going to shower for a few hours, and then I’m going out for a celebratory drink, and I don’t want to wake you up when I get back” and leaves before Dean can get it together enough to stop him.
The part of Dean that’s not completely messed up because of Cas vows to make fun of Sam relentlessly for being a yenta. The rest of him sort of stares at the floor, but it only takes a few seconds of that for him to push down his nervousness and reach out for what he wants.
Castiel hasn’t moved from his spot near the door, and Dean’s suspicion that Cas knows exactly what Dean’s been thinking about is confirmed when he catches Castiel’s eyes slipping down to watch Dean’s mouth. It gives Dean confidence, or maybe it just brings his confidence back to the surface. Either way, he knows what to do now.
“Sam thinks I’m jealous,” he starts, moving to stand in front of Cas.
Castiel looks puzzled by this topic of conversation. “Jealous of what?”
“You and him, being friends,” Dean replies. “I kind of got mad when you stole that scroll for him, and then spent all day geeking out with him and ignoring me.”
Castiel smiles then, understanding, and Dean returns it.
“Dean,” Cas says, in this warm and rough voice Dean’s never heard before. “I enjoy Sam’s company. But I wouldn’t even know Sam if it weren’t for you. I could never confuse the way I feel about you for the way I feel about him.”
Dean leans closer in, just inches away from the unexpected heat emanating from Cas’s body.
“I never told you,” Dean says, watching Castiel’s eyes, focused so completely on him. “I never said how grateful I was that you chose us, that you helped Sam even when you didn’t have any reason to, that you stuck it out even when you didn’t think we’d make it.”
Castiel reaches out and presses his hand onto Dean’s shoulder, heavy with promise. “I have made many decisions by myself since I met you, and you were always on my mind when I made them,” he says. “It wasn’t just because I care about you, though, it was also because you were right, and you showed me, made me believe it.”
“I’m glad,” Dean says, trying to keep his eyes on Castiel’s and not on his mouth, so close that he can see the chapped lips in perfect detail. “I’m not glad you lost so much,” he continues, “but I’m glad you’re still here with me.”
Castiel pulls Dean further in until they’re standing pressed together, then carefully kisses him, and Dean doesn’t resist, just moves his mouth over Cas’s with relief, enjoying the precise way Cas kisses, the heat and pressure of his lips, the way he tastes. It’s a short kiss, just the first of what Dean hopes will be many, and when he pulls away he thinks of something Sam said. “I don’t want to go back to Lisa,” he blurts out. “You make me happy, you know that, right?”
Castiel’s face breaks into an expression of fierce, possessive satisfaction, and he nods as he pulls Dean back down for another kiss, this one deeper and longer. When Dean finally breaks free to draw a shuddery breath, Castiel looks amused and debauched, red lips under knowing eyes.
“So I guess we’re not really friends,” Dean says, and Castiel smirks at him and settles his hands around Dean’s waist.
“Of course we’re friends,” he whispers against Dean’s neck in between kisses. “Loving you does not mean I have to stop liking you. I have always liked you.”
“Um, I, oh,” Dean says intelligently, but Cas doesn’t seem to mind because he kisses Dean again and guides them both to the bed, and Dean can’t speak coherently again until the next morning.
They spend the night being decidedly more than friends.
+++
After that, nothing really changes, except now when Castiel visits, Dean can usually expect some kind of sexual gratification to follow. Dean and Sam are still on the road, Cas still has a realm full of angels to deal with, and none of them are exactly what most people would call mentally healthy, but they’re together and mostly happy, and that’s all that matters to them.
Castiel drops in on Sam and Dean in the middle of a hunt one day when they’re both trapped in an old house and immediately ruins Dean’s fun by setting Old Man Chappelle’s bones (outside under the willow tree) on fire before Sam can get to them. The wind disappears and the couch stops throwing itself at Dean, which means he has to stop using the axe he’s holding as a baseball bat. He’d really been enjoying carving chunks out of the couch whenever it came at him.
Sam gets to his feet and shoots a grateful look at Cas. “Good timing,” he says. “I couldn’t make it outside.”
Cas is busy taking in Dean’s disheveled appearance, so Dean stares back and tries to figure out if it’s turning Cas on, or if he’s mad about “reckless behavior” again. Odds are about fifty-fifty, based on past experience.
The way Cas’s eyes linger on his ass is a dead giveaway, though, and Dean gleefully starts preparing for a night of blasphemous depravity while they get their stuff together.
“You do remember that I’m not a damsel in distress, right?” Dean asks as they all walk out of the house, because it never hurts to do a little teasing.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Castiel says smoothly. “I needed to ask Sam about a book I believe he borrowed from Bobby. It’s not always about you, Dean.”
Dean turns and gapes, because that was the best insult delivery he’s ever heard from Castiel, and he’s kind of impressed. At least, he is until he notices Sam beaming at Cas like a proud coach.
“God,” mutters Dean, walking quickly back to the Impala, “one of them wasn’t enough? I just had to go and get another one.”
He watches Sam duck into the front seat and meets Castiel’s eyes over the top of the car as Cas opens the door behind Sam. They stare at each other for old times’ sake, until Sam bangs on the roof, and then they both get in and he starts the engine and heads down the dirt road carefully. Dean gives Sam grief about hitting his car and Sam makes fun of Dean for caring so much, which somehow leads to an argument about Led Zeppelin, and Castiel watches with amusement from the backseat.
Just another day.
The End.