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Pain jolts through him. Starting at the back, it blossoms all the way to his chest, fills his torso until he can barely breathe. But there are some things he has to say. Things Sam needs to hear before he goes. He ought to have said them sooner but he never was one for tearful declarations without the threat of certain death looming in the shadows. Much like Cas, he thinks and almost chuckles.
Sam doesn't want to hear it. He's in denial. Dean is, too. This can't be happening, he thinks, not after everything we've been through. But he has to be strong, for Sam. He can't let him know that he died in agony.
If only this fucking bolt tearing through his insides would let him have a clear thought. He's talking. He doesn't even know what he's saying. The pain is making it harder and harder to speak and every breath fucking hurts so much, he just wants it to stop.
He's dying and he knows it.
"Not on my watch," a voice says, "no you're not." Dean's vision starts to blur. He's not sure if he's still babbling or if Sam is saying something and then...it's gone. The pain is gone and he isn't shoved against the wooden pole anymore and he falls forward without a rusty nail in his back holding him upright. He's caught right away, Sam is holding him and when he finally opens his eyes, a familiar figure gradually comes into focus next to them.
"Cas?" he manages, voice still somewhat hoarse.
"You're being left to yourselves for five minutes and immediately die." Cas shakes his head. He looks pissed. "That's not what we've been fighting for. You're supposed to cherish this life you were finally given."
"We thought you were dead, in the Empty," Sam says, letting out a sigh of relief, "it's so good to see you."
"Well, good for me Jack isn't the biggest fan of the Empty and got me out of there. We had our talk, about what I think this world needs to flourish, now that Chuck's reign is over."
Dean pats Sam's arm, signaling him to let go.
"I needed some time, to come back to you. I had some things to think about besides my conversations with Jack. And then I find my return to you was just in time because the Winchesters still aren't very good at staying alive on their own."
Sam rubs a hand over his mouth, his eyes still wet with tears. He leaps forward and pulls Cas into the tightest of hugs. "Thank you," he murmurs into Cas's coat. "Thank you for saving my brother. Again." He lets out a small laugh.
"It’s what I do," he says, giving Sam's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "What I've always done. No matter what happens, I'll be there, watching over you." He's only looking at Dean now as he speaks.
"Let's just go home now," Sam says. "Just get out of this place. Please."
Dean is glad to have something to do with having to watch the road. But inside, his mind is spinning. He can't stop thinking what if. What if he died there, in that barn. What if it had all been for nothing. What if he had never gotten to live the life he'd always wanted. Sam would have been okay, eventually, maybe. But Dean had finally started to accept that there was more to it than hunting, looking out for other people, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. That his own purpose could just be to live a happy, fulfilling life.
They check into a motel five hours into the drive. Dean is tired. From almost dying and overthinking. He changed into a new jacket before getting into the car. The clothing underneath it is still bloody and he just wants to wash off his most recent near death experience.
They get two rooms because three grown men checking into a double would be too weird to explain. Dean heads straight for the shower and watches the brownish water disappear into the drain. He almost died. Again. Other times, his death would have served a purpose, but not this time. What would have been the fucking point? He had just started to live a hot minute ago.
And now Cas is back and Dean knows what he needs to do.
He and Sam sit at the small table, sharing beers they bought at their last stop at a Gas’n’Sip. Dean walks up to the door, placing his hand on the knob. “Cas, can I talk to you?” They both look up. “In private,” he adds and opens the door when Cas gets the message and rises from his chair.
He enters their other room first, Cas following. “Dean,” he starts, but Dean pushes him against the door with a hand on his chest. Cas shows now resistance.
“I don’t want to do any more talking,” he says, rubbing a hand across his forehead. “Just let me get a few things out real quick.” He swallows, braving himself. Calling things by their name is so much harder when you know you’re not gonna die immediately after.
“Thank you,” he says, “for saving me. Time and time again. And thank you for sticking with us…with me. And thank you for telling me the things you did, you know, before the Empty…I guess I really needed to hear those things. No one’s ever told me that. No one ever knew me like…” His voice cracks a little.
“I thought you didn’t want to do the talking,” Cas says and he looks so smug about it, Dean could slap his pretty little face. Instead he lets out a breathy laugh.
“And you,” he resumes, “you really took the easy way out by saying it and dying right after the words had left your mouth, so you wouldn’t even hear my thoughts on all,” he makes a gesture with his hands, “this.”
“Well,” Cas says, “I guess I’ll just have to listen now. Whether I want to hear it or not.”
Dean rolls his eyes. Cas and his bickering—he’s insufferable. He’s so glad he’s back…they’re both back. “Do you still feel like you said you did?”
“You mean if I still love you?” He looks tense as he speaks. All the sass has been laid to rest. They’re being serious now.
“Do you?”
“Always, Dean,” he says and Dean clenches his quivering jaw.
“Good,” he says, taking one, two staggering breaths, “because I love you too.” And that’s it. He said it. In hindsight, it wasn’t as terrifying as he thought it would be.
After the second it takes Cas for Dean’s words to sink in, he grabs him by the collar of his shirt and Dean’s weight makes him stumble back against the door once again. He kisses Dean like he’s just come up for air after the longest, deepest dive ever. He seizes both sides of Dean’s face with his big hands, pulling him even closer and Dean just leans into him, pressing him against the door, clinging to his shoulders, winding his fingers from the base of his neck around the back, the tips digging into the flesh just above the hairline.
Cas’s mouth is hot and wet and his tongue is everywhere and Dean can’t get enough. One of Cas’s hands moves away from his face, down to his shoulders, to his back and holding him impossibly close. His stomach is tingling with all kinds of sensations, hot and cold all at once. He’s started to grind against Cas’s thigh, who obviously doesn’t seem to mind because the hand on his back has descended onto his ass and he’s holding him tight, almost encouraging him to keep doing it, and Dean is getting real hard real quick, so Cas stumbles away from the door, pushing towards the bed.
Getting rid of their clothes is an entire mess but eventually they get where they wanted to—being naked, on the bed, without a single piece of fabric between them.
Cas is half on top of him, their kissing now slower, softer. He cradles the back of Dean’s head with one hand, the other running up and down his side. When Dean opens his eyes again, bleary, like he just woke from a very long rest, he meets Cas’s eye. He wipes his thumb over Cas’s cheek, running his fingers down his bare chest, then along his arm until his hand meets Cas’s resting on his hip. He takes it, guiding Cas to where he wants to touch him. He takes in a sharp breath when, finally, Cas takes him properly into his large hand. Cas watches his reaction at the first pumps. He closes his eyes again, losing himself in the way Cas makes him feel. Then, Cas moves in closer again, placing his lips on Dean’s throat, sucking, and Dean gasps. He almost comes from this alone, the spark travelling from his neck, over the collarbone, stirring in his belly, all the way to his cock. He grabs Cas by the hips, pulls, so he’s properly on top of him. He pushes down on Cas’s ass, to bring their groins closer together. He wants this for Cas too—Cas who himself is hard as a rock. And Cas groans, grinding into him and Dean grinding back and Dean has one hand grasping Cas’s hair now, the other slung around his back, and Cas is breathing hotly into the crook of Dean’s neck.
They come only seconds apart from each other. Cas’s back is wet under Dean’s fingers, sweat glistening on his own chest.
Cas kisses him again, hungry, not yet satisfied. Dean isn’t either and he thinks he never will be. He will never have enough of this now that he’s finally, finally got to taste it.
They lie in bed afterwards, Dean’s head on Cas’s chest and Cas lazily stroking his head, playing with single strands of hair.
For a brief second Dean can’t shake the dark feeling of an what if again. What if he’d died today. What if he’d never gotten to tell Cas how he felt. What if he’d never gotten to have this.
“You think too much,” Cas says.
Dean furrows his brows. “Stop reading my mind, Cas. You know I don’t like you snooping around in there. It’s called privacy.”
“I haven’t since you first told me not to,” he says. “I don’t need to read your mind to know what you’re thinking right now.”
“Okay,” Dean says, drawing a line on Cas’s stomach, a feather-light touch, “I’ll think of something else then.”
Cas smiles. “And what is that?”
“How about…you and me, getting a place, with a nice view. Close to some nature. Sam gets one too, with Eileen maybe. We can have joint custody over Miracle.”
“Miracle?”
“Oh yeah, I’ve got a dog now.” Cas raises his brows.
“And then, what would we do?”
“Whatever we want. Preferably some more of this,” Dean says, leaning up to kiss him.
“I’d like that,” Cas says before pulling him close again and kissing him properly.