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They were these quiet moments, the calms between the many storms, which Castiel treasured the most. Dean, the hunter feared by so many around the country, curled up on the front bench of his impala, head resting in Castiel’s lap. Castiel’s right hand nestled lazily in Dean’s short hair as he slept, left hand gripped around the steering wheel. Dean and his brother had grown up in this car, it was just as much a member of the family as Castiel himself. It was the silent forth member of Team Free Will, and Castiel felt he would never get used to the emotions he felt in the moments he was entrusted to drive. Emotions he was sure angels weren’t even programmed to feel.
A stirring from the back seat caused his hand to return quickly to the wheel, his eyes darting to the rear mirror, watching the taller of the Winchesters rubbing his eyes as he awoke. The light from Sam’s phone screen illuminated the interior.
“How far out are we?”
His deep voice broke the silence which had been filled until now only by the steady purring of the impala’s engine. Castiel cleared his throat before answering, eyes locked onto the dark road ahead.
“About an hour, maybe two.”
Sam nodded, watching his phone.
“Another disappearance by the looks of it, just a couple hours ago, so we’ll be close.”
“Fuckin’ vamps.” It was Dean’s voice this time, and he groaned as he sat up, deliberately ignoring the fact that he’d been using the angel’s lap as a pillow for the past few hours.
There was a scoff of agreement from the back seat, before a warm thermos was handed across to the front. They all knew Dean was useless without his morning coffee, and Sam had long ago learned to be prepared.
They fell into a comfortable silence again, Dean sipping his coffee, Sam scrolling his phone, Castiel failing to stop his eyes from darting across to the man beside him every few minutes as the sun rose to their right, highlighting his features in a warm orange glow. The silence turned to bickering from the brothers, and the angel sat back and listened quietly as he drove. It was another moment he felt privileged to be a part of, exchanges between Sam and Dean which had for so long been private, between just the two of them.
“Cas, pull over, let me drive.” Dean was addressing him now, and he turned his head slightly to face the man.
“Dean, we’re almost there.”
“I know, but you’ve been driving all night.”
He always got antsy before a hunt. Driving calmed him, gave him the feeling of being in control before jumping into the unknown.
“You do recall I have no need for sleep.”
“Yeah, whatever, but you seem distracted.”
The angel kept his face neutral as he appeased his friend, pulling over to the side of the road to swap seats, hoping that neither of them had noticed the lingering gazes which he was sure were crossing the line away from platonic.
Both brothers exited the car as it stopped, stretching their long limbs and checking the trunk to ensure their gear was ready. Castiel enjoyed this, too. The rituals. They went through everything the same way each time, checking first the knives, the guns, the ammo, just like their father had taught them so many years ago. Castiel had been created to be a soldier where the brothers had been forged into hunters.
Castiel slid into the back seat before Sam and Dean had finished their checks, his angel blade secured beneath his trench coat. The brothers soon returned to the car, Dean gently sliding a machete across the dash before settling in behind the steering wheel, mid-discussion with Sam about what they were expecting when they got there. A reported vampire nest, a few missing girls, standard for a hunt in backwoods nowhere. The tape deck clicked on as Dean started the engine, pulling back onto the road.
****
The best part about seedy motels was the complete disregard for anybody wanting to rent a room.
Even splattered with blood, Sam had been handed a key to the room which was theirs for the night, without so much as a question. The younger brother was now in the shower, washing away the layers of grime and vampire blood which covered him after several beheadings. They’d saved two of the girls and slaughtered all the monsters they’d come across. Sam had come out unscathed, however Dean had received a deep gash along the inside of his forearm which he’d refused to let anybody look at until delivering the survivors back to their families. He and Castiel now sat at the tiny motel table, Dean’s arm outstretched, trying not to wince at the pain.
“You lost a lot of blood.” Castiel observed, one hand outstretched to hover over the wound.
“Yeah, yeah. Can you fix it?”
“Of course.”
The angel pressed his fingers to Dean’s wrist, a glow emitting from between them as the skin stitched together again. Castiel’s hand lingered as he swallowed hard, eyes locked onto the hunter’s muscular arms, warmth flooding through his body.
“Uh, Cas? I think I’m good.”
“Right. Of course.” He withdrew his hand as if he’d been burned, quickly standing up from his chair and turning away to avoid any eye contact. “You need to rest. Regain your strength.”
The sound of the shower ceased as Castiel pretended to be very interested in the motel art of a yellow watering can on the wall above the beds. Behind him, Dean leaned back in his chair, inspecting his freshly healed arm and flexing his fingers experimentally before getting to his feet and moving to the bed. Castiel could hear him shuffling through his bag, grabbing out a change of clothes and removing his blood-soaked jacket and t-shirt. The angel allowed himself to steal a glance of Dean’s bare back, a far more captivating sight than the dusty framed photo on the wall. Dean’s shoulders were broad and muscular, pale from all the time spent hidden under layers of clothing. Delicate scars were etched at random down his sides and his spine, memories of hunts gone wrong long before Castiel and his healing powers had come along. Soft dark hair peeked from below the waistband of his underwear, barely visible under his dark jeans.
Castiel exhaled sharply as the bathroom door swung opened, keeping his face blank as he faced Sam, the taller brother ruffling his wet hair with a towel as he emerged.
“You good?” His question was directed at Dean, who he’d last seen bleeding profusely.
The older brother pulled a clean shirt over his head before holding his arm out towards Sam.
“Yeah, remember when we used to need stitches?” He let out a laugh, pulling on his jacket and clapping his large hand to Castiel’s back in thanks, “C’mon, let’s go eat.”
****
Castiel didn’t require sleep. Some nights he went out on his own, checking for clues if they had an active case, catching up on angel business if they didn’t. Some nights though, after a tough hunt, he rested alongside the Winchester brothers, wanting to stay close in case he was needed. Tonight was one of those nights.
He sat upright on the stained armchair in the corner of the motel room, eyes locked on Dean’s unconscious form. Humans would find a night of nothing boring, even intolerable, but after existing for thousands of years, the downtime was soothing for the angel. While Castiel found comfort in knowing he was able to heal the humans, he also worried that they were becoming too dependent on him. Dean’s insistence on ignoring his injury until they were back at the motel had lost him a lot of blood, something Castiel was sure he’d been more conscious of before having a healer as a sidekick. The hunter was getting more reckless, and Castiel wondered if this was the reason God had stopped interfering so long ago in the affairs of humans.
Dean’s breathing changed as he rolled over.
“Cas, I’ve told you before about the staring. It’s weird.” He rubbed his face as he peered at the angel in the dark, not quite awake.
“Sorry.” Castiel’s voice was deep, gruff, “I wanted to make sure you’re properly healed.”
“Yeah, I’m good. Watch some TV or something.”
His heart rate slowed again as he drifted back to sleep. Not wanting to disturb the humans, Castiel ignored the suggestion of television, however he did turn his chair slightly so he wasn’t directly facing Dean’s bed, in case he stirred again.
Sam awoke a little after sunrise, opting to skip his morning run and instead had Castiel join him to find breakfast. They walked mostly in silence until they reached a small cafe in town. Making their way back to the motel a few minutes later, Castiel carried Dean’s bacon and egg sandwich while Sam sipped his own coffee. As they walked, they discussed the previous hunt and Dean’s increasing carelessness. It calmed the angel somewhat to know that Sam had also noticed, although they were both unsure how to raise the topic to Dean, who was still fast asleep when they returned to the motel room.
“Morning, sunshine,” Sam placed the coffees on the motel table loudly, causing his brother to awake with a snort, “time for breakfast.”
Dean pushed himself up to look behind him, spotting the coffee and nodding before swinging himself out of bed.
“Awesome.”
Castiel observed the brothers consume their breakfasts. Dean, devouring his egg and bacon sandwich like an animal, taking the biggest bites possible. Sam, with his egg white omelet and a knife and fork, much more dignified than his older brother.
“Dude, you’re staring again.” Dean said through a mouthful of food.
Castiel ignored the statement, “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.”
“Dean, you-“
“Can I eat in peace here?”
Castiel sighed, glancing at Sam, who shrugged. They both knew Dean was stubborn, especially in the morning. The angel turned away, defeated for now.
“I’ll pack the car.”
Sam had slid into the back seat of the Impala before Castiel was able to, claiming he had some reading to do. Castiel was certain it was to avoid being the one to speak to Dean, although in fairness the older of the brothers had always been more receptive to the suggestions of the angel than his younger brother. To his credit, Sam had found a case relatively quickly, what appeared to be a haunting about a days drive away. Aside from the Metallica blasting through the stereo, the first few hours was spent in silence. Sam, wedged into the back, was concentrating hard on the book he was studying, while Dean, drumming along to the music on the steering wheel, remained seemingly oblivious to Castiel’s frequent glances in his direction. It wasn’t until they’d stopped for gas and were back in the car that Dean finally addressed the angel.
“You know what if you’ve got something to say, just say it.” He turned down his music and leaned further back in his seat, turning his body slightly to rest his right arm on the back of the seat, glancing at Castiel while watching the road.
“You need to be more careful,” Castiel stated simply, never one to dance around a subject.
“I’m fine, alright. You healed my arm, I’m good.”
“No, Dean, I’m - we’re - concerned.”
Dean slid his arm across the seat to the angel’s shoulder, squeezing it in reassurance. His touch sent a warmth through Castiel’s body, a feeling he only experienced during interactions with Dean.
“Hey, I’m good, okay?”
The corner of Castiel’s mouth turned upwards in a small smile, locking eyes with the hunter for a brief moment before Dean’s eyes snapped back to the road ahead.
****
The case was fairly straightforward. Old house, teenagers messing around, claims of a figure holding a knife chasing them out. Routine stuff for the Winchesters.
Dean tossed a shotgun to Castiel, slamming the trunk of the Impala as he did so.
“So apparently, the body should still be in the attic,” Sam shoved his phone back into his pocket, looking up at the broken, boarded top window of the house, “we go in, burn the bones-“
“- and dodge the pissed off, knife-wielding ghost of the bastard, inbred son. Easy,” Dean nodded at Sam, grinning.
Castiel fell into step behind the brothers as they climbed the porch steps, always willing to allow them to take lead on hunts. He remained silent, following them through the unlocked front door and peering into the darkness. The stairs to the second floor were to their right and the three men tightened their grips on their shotguns as they climbed. Castiel, already shorter than the humans, found himself eye level with the small of Dean’s back, the familiar warmth blooming in his stomach as he failed to resist flicking his eyes down to the human’s rear as they climbed the stairs. His attention shifted as the air around them suddenly froze. Sam, having reached the top of the stairs, raised his gun in preparation. A translucent being flickered into view in front of them, grinning as it held up its knife. Its pale face was badly scarred, signs of the torture it had been put through back when it was alive. The ghost took one step towards Sam before the hunter pulled the trigger, sending a blast of rock salt into it and causing it to vanish.
“He’ll be back.” Sam turned to the others, cocking the barrel of his shotgun to replace the now empty shell.
“Right, attic,” Dean pointed to the ceiling along the hallway, where a square hatch was visible, “Sam, you get up there and find the body. Cas, stick with me, we’ll distract it.”
They split up, Sam heading up the ladder to the cluttered attic while Castiel and Dean took a floor each, the hunter sticking to the second storey while the angel headed back down the stairs. He could hear Dean stomping around, calling out for the ghost, challenging it. Castiel raised his gun as the figure appeared in front of him, blasting it away in a puff of dark haze before it could rush at him, knife outstretched.
“You good?” Dean called from upstairs.
“I’m fine.” Castiel called back, “but he’s angry.”
“Yeah well,” Dean peered over the railing at the top of the stairs, “the son of a bitch can come and get me.”
The angel’s eyes locked with the hunter’s, his expression softening despite how smug Dean was being. There was something charming about that self-assured nature.
Castiel’s gaze was broken suddenly by the ghost appearing behind his friend.
“Dean!”
Dean spun around at Castiel’s warning, raising his gun a moment too late. The apparition waved a hand, forcing the gun out of the hunter’s grip and sending it sliding across the floor. Dean ducked sideways, dodging as the ghost lunged forwards, swinging its knife.
“Gonna have to do better than that!” He taunted, before the ghost took another swing, its knife slicing along Dean’s shoulder. The resulting cut forced curses from the hunter as blood began to flow from the wound. The ghost swung again, aiming this time for a more lethal blow, but missed. Castiel, reaching the top of the stairs, pushed Dean aside and out of the ghost’s reach with a wave of his hand. The ghost wheeled around, plunging the blade instead into the chest of the angel, who growled in annoyance.
“Any time now, Sam!” Dean yelled from the floor, pained, one hand gripping his injured shoulder to keep pressure on his wound.
Castiel pulled the knife from his chest, tossing it aside and raising his shotgun to the ghost, however before he was able to pull the trigger, flames engulfed the figured, which let out an inhuman scream before vanishing into nothingness.
“That was close.” Dean looked up at Castiel, grinning, before the angel grabbed him by the collar, pulling the hunter to his feet easily and slamming him against the wall.
“I told you to be more careful!”
Their faces were close enough that Castiel could count each individual eyelash, each freckle on the hunter’s face. The lengths of their bodies pressed together as the angel kept Dean pinned between himself and the wall. He could feel Dean’s hot breath on his face, blending with his own as they glared at each other, panting heavily.
They separated only at the sound of Sam’s hurried footsteps approaching the ladder to their left. Ignoring the tightness of his pants, Castiel released Dean and turned away, bending to grab the Dean’s fallen shotgun from the floor as Sam descended from the attic.
“You okay?” The taller brother looked between Dean and Castiel, sensing the tension in the room.
“Fine.” Dean kept his hand pressed to his bleeding shoulder, letting out a grimace of pain as he stepped forwards.
Castiel faced Dean again at the sound, silently pressing his hand over the hunter’s and healing the wound underneath with a glow. He thrust the gun back towards Dean’s chest before making his way down the stairs and out the front door, slamming it behind him.
****
Led Zeppelin blasted from the stereo of the Impala, Dean’s favourite way to ignore all tension in the car as they drove. He hadn’t spoken a word to Castiel since leaving the house. Sam had the passenger seat, concentrating harder than necessary on his phone, not oblivious to the tension between his brother and the angel but trying his hardest to stay out of it.
The next town was only a few hours away, but the time dragged excruciatingly, even for the angel. His jaw remained clenched as he struggled to keep his focus out the window and not on Dean’s stubbled profile, alit with gold from the rapidly setting sun.
The motel Dean chose was at the edge of town. The brothers had hardly brought their bags inside when Sam announced he was going to get dinner.
“I’ll come with you!” Dean offered, but Sam was quick to shake his head.
“Nope.” The door clicked behind him as the younger brother made his quick exit.
Castiel sat on the edge of one of the twin beds, his hands balled into fists which rested gently on the top of his thighs. He braced himself for what was coming, knowing that Dean would either continue to ignore him, or explode.
“You wanna tell me what all that was about?” The sound of the Impala’s engine had barely faded before the hunter had rounded on the angel, his face hard, eyebrows pressed together.
Castiel took a deep breath, his eyes closing for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. His heart beat loudly in his chest, swallowing hard. Angels were purpose-built soldiers. He had seen battles and wars long before Dean ever existed. He had been forced to murder his own brothers. Forced to fight demons and monsters. Yet it was the moments where he had to confront this hunter, this *human*, which set his insides alight with emotions he shouldn’t be able to feel at all.
“Dean...” His eyes opened, raising his head to face the human, “I can’t *lose* you.”
Dean brought a hand up to his mouth, scratching his dark stubble before sitting down opposite the angel, his shoulders visibly dropping.
“Cas, I’m not going anywhere.” His forearms rested on his knees as he leaned forward, green eyes locked onto blue, “Even if I did, you’ve dragged me from Hell before. You raised me from perdition, right? You can do it again.”
The angel didn’t return Dean’s attempt at a smile, shaking his head to break the eye contact.
“It’s not that simple, Dean. And watching… seeing you get hurt-“ his eyes glistened as he looked anywhere but Dean, “I can’t begin to comprehend, or even explain the depth of this bond we share, but every time you’re in danger… I can’t stand it.”
The silence was so deafening the angel could almost hear the gears turning inside the human’s head. Castiel cursed himself, wishing he’d just held back his anger. He should have just let Dean continue on his path of self destruction, healing his cuts, his bruises, his broken bones. Letting him feel invincible, untouchable. Dragging him back to life when he inevitably-
Castiel’s thoughts ceased immediately at the feel of Dean’s hand on top of his.
“Okay, Cas,” the hunter’s voice was lower now, his expression softened, “it’s okay. I’ll be careful. I promise.”
Dean’s fingers tightened around Castiel’s still-clenched fist, the reassuring squeeze sending electricity shooting up the angel’s arm, his stomach in knots. He struggled to steady his breathing, wanting nothing more than to flip his hand over and intwine his fingers with the hunter’s, needing Dean to understand how much this meant to him, how much *Dean* meant to him. His fist unclenched in the same moment Dean’s did, the hunter standing and clearing his throat, heading towards the bathroom to shower before dinner, leaving Castiel sitting alone once more, warmth still flowing through him at the lingering feeling of Dean’s fingers pressed against him.
****
Sam returned to the sound of the shower running and Castiel perched on the side of the bed furthest from the door, his hands balled into fists on top of his own thighs, wearing that stupid trenchcoat as usual. He hardly looked up as the door closed behind the taller brother, Sam’s arms full of takeaway bags and beer.
“Is everything… good?” He kept his voice casual, glancing sideways at the angel to try and gauge the mood.
“I believe we have reached an understanding, yes.” Castiel looked up properly for the first time, face blank.
“Good. That’s- good” Sam’s shoulders visibly relaxed as he began unpacking the food - greasy truck stop burgers from down the road - and Dean’s favourite type of cheap beer.
Dean emerged from the bathroom quickly after shutting off the water, his hair still damp, a tight grey tee and black sweatpants clinging to his muscular frame. Catching sight of Sam’s offering, he clapped his hands together in delight, grabbing one of the beers.
“Sammy, you have outdone yourself,” Popping the cap off the top, he took a swig, his mood evidently far better than it had been in a long time, “Hey, we have no case, we have no early wake-up. How bout we relax?”
He selected a movie from his duffel bag, a western, and popped it in the crappy motel player before settling with his back against the headboard, balancing his dinner and beer on his outstretched legs. Castiel began to get up, but Dean shook his head, bottle against his lips.
“Nah, Cas, you’ll like this one. Sit.” He patted the space next to him on the bed, grinning as the angel swung his legs around to sit beside him.
Even with the hunter stuffing his face full of food, sitting this close to him, feeling the heat radiating from his body was intoxicating. Castiel’s heart beat loudly in his own head, his blood rushing far too quickly south. Every light touch of their thighs brushing together on the too-small bed sent waves of some unidentifiable desire pulsing through him. He was supposed to be watching the movie, Dean would be mad at him later for not paying attention, however he couldn’t stop his eyes from flicking regularly to the human, drinking in every single detail of Dean’s face. The way the sides of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. The way his tongue emerged so delicately to wet his lips before he spoke. The way Castiel felt like he was flying just by hearing Dean’s laugh. Dean looked across at him to meet his gaze and Castiel felt his stomach jolt as their eyes locked. Partly nerves from being caught staring, knowing how much Dean hated that, but something else, too. The hunter flashed him a grin, causing warmth to flood through him.
“This part is good, watch.” Dean gestured towards the television set with his beer bottle before taking a swig.
It had been weeks, possibly even months since Castiel had seen Dean so relaxed, and it made him relax in as well. He continued to struggle to watch the film, sure he was imagining the hunter getting closer to him until the sides of their thighs were inexplicably pressed together. But then Sam was snoring and Dean’s hand was lingering on Castiel’s thigh far longer than it had any need to, and there was no hiding now how tight the angel’s pants had become, and Dean was also finding it hard to concentrate on the movie when Castiel’s face was right there.
And then Dean’s lips were brushing against Castiel’s, softly at first, until the angel’s hand came up to the hunter’s jaw, pulling him closer. Their kisses became desperate and sloppy, hands tugging shirts, gripping hair, brushing against stubbled cheeks. Moans and gasps were swallowed by the other, neither wanting to wake the human who was sleeping far too close in the next bed.
“Dean-“ it was Castiel who first broke away, his brows pressed together, “I don’t…”
His head was spinning, his very obvious erection throbbing, starting to realise what the previously unidentifiable desire he had been feeling was for.
“You said you don’t understand our bond,” Dean’s voice was a low whisper, and if Castiel wasn’t an angel, he would struggle to hear it over his own loudly beating heart, “well, I do. I’ve understood it for years, Cas. Since you marked me with your own hand as you pulled me from Hell. Since I plunged a knife in your chest and all you did was grin.”
Castiel frowned, hardly breathing, not daring to believe what Dean was saying.
“It’s love.”
“Angels don’t feel love.” Castiel’s reply was instinctual, part of his programming.
“Yeah, well. I guess my humanity is rubbing off on you.” Dean gave a shrug, his thumb running along the angel’s jawline, eyes sparkling.
When Dean finally fell asleep, curled up beside Castiel with his head in the angel’s lap, Castiel felt no shame in nestling his hand in the hunter’s hair, finally understanding what he had been struggling with for so long.
It was love.