Archive of Our Own

There’s knocking on the door. Dean rolls over on his stomach and hides his head under the pillow. It can't be morning already. He feels as if he barely slept half of the night. He hopes that maybe if he doesn’t answer, whoever is knocking on this ungodly hour will go away.

No such luck, of course.

‘’Good morning, Mr. Winchester. Breakfast is ready,’’ says way too cheerful Mrs. Butters outside his door.

‘’Mornin’, I’ll be right there,’’ he mumbles from under the pillow.

Dean reluctantly drags himself out of bed and staggers to the closet. There, he chooses his outfit: a white shirt, waistcoat, this time navy blue, and a matching suit. It takes him a little longer to choose a tie, but in the end he decides on the one in a shade of dark blue to keep it simple.

He tries, really tries, to make it comfortable, but can't help but curse whoever invented those things. He doesn’t belive it’s possible for anyone to like to wear ties. Dean always feels like he can’t breathe. Ultimately, he loosens it as much as he can so that he can function and still look decent, looks himself over in the mirror and giving his reflection a thumbs up and a cheeky wink he leaves to go the the bathroom, where he washes his face and styles his hair.

About 20 minutes after Mrs. Butters woke him up, Dean enters the kitchen full of his MoL colleagues. 

‘’Look who finally decided to show up,’’ says Fletcher with a full mouth, because he’s disgusting (yes, Dean does it too, but Fletcher is annoying so shut up). 

‘’Morning, Princess. Got your beauty sleep?’’ Says another man and God, what Dean wouldn't give to eat breakfast in silence for once. 

So, Dean’s not exactly on good terms with these guys. He never wanted to be a Man of Letters, but his father said that they’re legacy, so at least one of them had to go to the training. Sam had already bagun to study to become a lawyer, his dream job since he was a kid, so Dean had to fill that role. 

Now he has to spend 24/7 with these assholes.

But as long as Sammy gets to make his dreams come true, Dean's happy. Or at least he's good at pretending he is. Doesn’t matter.

He refrains from rolling his eyes at the comment, instead he gives them his most charming grin, ‘’oh, yeah! You should try sometime,’’ he says with a wink and sits at the table in his usual spot next to his father, ignoring the disapproving look that is sent his way. John disapproves of his behavior towards the MoL, after all, they are like a second family to him, but it's not Dean's fault. When they start, he can't let them have the last word. He pours himself a cup of coffee and puts some eggs and bacon on his plate. Mrs. Butters is a God send (most of the time). Dean looks at her and mouths ‘’thank you’’, to which she smiles. 

After breakfast, as always, they have a meeting in the library. Dean doesn’t really listen anymore, they never give him any assignments and it's not like he's interested in any of this crap, so he usually sits down and mutes everything. That is until…

‘’Winchester! Did you hear anything of what I just said?’’

He flinches and hits his knee under the table, ‘’wha- yes?’’  Well, shit. Sinclair looks like he’s ready to murder him. After glaring at Dean for over a good minute he sighs, 

‘’I said, you’re going to interrogate someone, something. We’re going to summon It later today and we want you to talk to it, get all the information you can get.’’

"You're giving me a job?"

Holy fucking shit. Finally.

"Yes,'' and Dean is clearly getting on his nerves. Well- ''John will supervise you."

Dean’s mouth opens and closes a few times, trying to say something, anything, but he's in too much shock. At last, he asks,

‘’What is it?’’

“Angel.’’

And just like that, Dean loses all the hope that has started to build up in his chest. Of course they were joking. He’s useless here. And these guys will do anything to make fun of him. 

‘’I’m not that stupid. Angels don’t exist.’’

Only when he scoffs and looks around the table, their faces are serious, he could even say that instead, they look a bit irritated.

‘’Except that they do, apparently. People know very little about them, because they prefer to stay in Heaven most of the time. It would have to be something big and important for an Angel to have a reason to walk the Earth. That’s why we are going to summon one and we’re going to study it,’’ says Sinclair, ‘’you are going to study it. With your father.’’ 

Okay, that’s starting to sound pretty real. Surely, they wouldn’t get John on a prank, right?

‘’Um… Dad?’’ 

His father just nods.

‘’Why me?’’ Dean asks, because this is big. Why would they give him such an important task now, if they never bothered before with anything more than a simple milk run. But he doesn’t get an answer and he’s not sure if they ignore it or if they didn’t hear him. Dean tries to catch John's eyes but his father looks away.

O-kay...

Alright. Dean is going to talk to an angel. Cool. Angels are real. And he’s going to be in a room with one. That’s fine. He’s not panicking.

‘’How do you summon an angel anyway?’’ He asks, louder this time, because that seems like an important question to ask right now, right?

It must be, because John answers him without any trace of annoyance,

‘’We found reports from a few decades ago about the last visit of Angels on Earth. There was some information there, including a summoning spell.’’

‘’And when are we going to do this?’’ Dean feels that his hands have begun to shake, either out of fear or anticipation, he’s not sure. Probably both.

‘’At Eighteen hundred hours.’’

10 hours from now. In ten hours there’s going to be a real Angel here, in the bunker. And Dean will have to talk to it. 

God, it’s too early in the morning for this.

Wait. If Angels are real, is God real?

Fuck, he needs a drink.

Dean comes back from his major existential crisis by the time the meeting is over. He goes straight to his room and to the bottle of whiskey sitting on his cabinet. He doesn’t even bother with glass. It’s going to be a long day.

Unfortunately, he remembers that he can’t get drunk today, so after a couple of swings he puts the bottle down and takes a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He can’t fuck this up, it’s his first serious mission as a Man of Letters and he’s going to prove himself.

Maybe they will finally see him as one of them.

Dean sighs and throws himself on the bed. He thinks about taking a nap but that’s probably not going to work with the adrenaline rush still bubbling inside his veins, so he picks up a book from his nightstand and opens it on the last page he read. It’s one about dreamwalkers, he found it in the bunker’s library. He probably won’t be able to concentrate much on it but it’s worth a try.

As expected, he doesn’t remember a thing he just read, but a few hours have passed and Dean is getting hungry, so he puts the book down and leaves the comfort of his room to go to the kitchen, praying he can get at least one meal without these sons of bitches bothering him. 

Someone must be listening, because when he’s there, he’s greeted by the sight of only Mrs. Butters, preparing dinner for everyone in the bunker. She hears him coming and turns around to ask with a smile,

‘’Hungry already? There’s some leftover pancakes in the fridge.’’

‘’We don’t deserve you,’’ Dean says honestly without missing a beat.

She chuckles, ‘’of course you do, honey. You’re all good men, I’m just happy to care for you.’’

Dean takes a few pancakes and sits down at the counter to watch her cook as he eats, occasionally asking or answering some questions. She asked how he's feeling about today and he tells her everything, because sometimes talking to her is as easy as talking his mom. When he’s done eating he washes his plate, despite Mrs. Butters’s protests, and he’s about to leave the kitchen, but something makes him turn around,

‘’Would you like some help?’’

‘’Oh, no, dear. Don’t bother yourself here. It’s not your job to cook dinner, I will call you when it's ready.’’

‘’I… when I was still at home, I used to help my mom in the kitchen. I kinda miss that,’’ Dean admits quietly, almost hoping the nymph wouldn’t hear him.

When he looks up, Mrs. Butters is looking at him with sympathetic eyes and he has to look away. They talked about it a few times, she knows how much he misses his home, mom and Sammy. She knows that he never wanted to be here. 

She’s the only person here that doesn’t want him to get lost.

Dean’s gotten used to the looks other Men of Letters give him, the whispers and the side glances he gets when he enters a room. He knows he doesn’t belong here, but he can’t leave.

‘’Come on then, peel the potatos.’’

He breathes a sigh of relief at not being dismissed and gets to work. 

A couple of hours later the dinner is ready. Dean helps Mrs. Butters to set the table as everyone starts to gather. Some of them tease Dean about turning into a housewife, but he ignores them, too pleased with himself for helping to prepare a good meal.

Half through the meal, Dean feels a tug at his jacket’s sleeves and looks at his father with a question on his face.

‘’Are you alright?’’

For a lot of reasons, that’s not what Dean was expecting.

‘’Yeah, I’m fine. Why?’’

‘’You know you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I can handle it myself or ask someone else.’’

Good to know someone believes in him, huh.

‘’No, I want to do it. I can do it,’’ Dean insists. He has to do it.

After finishing the meal, they get half an hour for themselves before it’s time. Dean stays in the library to read the old reports, learn something about the creature he will meet soon, prepare some questions he is going to ask. He notes that the angel he's reading about is dead, killed by Tyron E. Power, with something called an 'angel blade' they managed to steal from him.

When he's done, he gets to watch some of his colleagues prepare the spell. They get a big bowl, a bunch of leaves and herbs that to him look all the same and a small vial with some weird, dark liquid.

When everything is ready, they take it downstairs to the dungeon where they will trap the Angel. 

There, they put the bowl down and start drawing a sigil on the floor outside the cell. It looks quite simple, a circle separated into four quadrants, each quadrant containing a different enochian symbol. 

When it's ready, they light four candles on each line and they put the bowl inside the sigil. Sinclair, as a Spell Master, throws the ingredients in the bowl and sets the herbs on fire with a match. He begins to cast the spell,

‘’Invoco, adiuro et precipio te angelo, ut compareas et exhibeas te visibiliter coram nobis in hoc circulo in pulcra figura," the lights began to flicker and somehow, a strong wind is blowing around them now, "sine aliqua deformitate vel tortuositate." 

Sinclair repeats the spell three more times, each time louder, until there’s a new figure standing in the room with them, their back turned to them. Someone throws a lighter on the floor and the figure is surrounded by fire. Holy oil, Dean remembers from the file he read earlier. Another person quickly locks the cell the Angel is in.

The tension in the room grows in deathly silence. Dean is afraid to breathe, knowing something can go incredibly wrong at any moment. Slowly, the mysterious figure turns to them and Dean’s breath caughts in his throat. Even at the other end of the room, he can see the bluest eyes to ever blue, looking wary from under the hat the man is wearing, which casts a shadow on his eyes that seriously can't be real. 

Dean’s eyes run a quick head-to-toe scan before he can stop himself. The man is dressed in a black suit and a coat, also black, a white shirt under a waistcoat and a dark, white striped tie.

Looking at him, Dean can't help but think the spell has failed. It can’t be an angel. He looks… human.

Too good to be true, but human.

The man never opened his mouth, but Dean can hear him, loud and clear,

‘’Be not afraid, I won’t hurt you,’’ shelves around them rattle, everyone screams in pain and covers their ears. Everyone except Dean. ‘’Where am I? Why?’’

The rattling stops with him.

Everyone else is catching their breaths, so Dean is the one that answers,

‘’Um… hi? Hello, my name is Dean Winchester. I’m- I’m a Man of Letters, these are my colleagues. We- we’d like to ask you a couple of questions. I- if yo- you don’t mind.’’ 

Everyone stares at Dean in shock, including Blue Eyes, but he mostly looks like Dean is a puzzle he wants to solve, with his head tilting slightly to the right, face full of wonder. It makes Dean squirm and look away with a slight blush on his cheeks. Grateful the lights went out, he faintly hopes no one can see in the dim light of the candles.

Blue Eyes doesn’t say anything, he continues to look at Dean until someone behind him clears his throat and they both look that way.

"What the hell was that?" It's Martinez who asks the question.

"He asked what’s happening," Dean says, confused.

‘’You… didn't feel it?’’ Asks Martinez.

‘’Feel what?’’

‘’I thought my fucking brain is melting inside my skull!’’

‘’Oh.’’

Dean looks back at the man, an Angel. He wants to ask, but no words come out.

‘’I-’’

His father saves the situation, ‘’alright, everyone out. Your job here is done, we've got this.’’

They stare at him blankly, ready to refuse, to stay here and get their questions answered, but something in John’s eyes must convince them, because they begrudgingly leave.

Now it’s just the three of them. Dean looks back at Blue Eyes and finds him already looking at him. Their eyes meet and it’s like Dean is drowning. He doesn’t know how long they just stared at each other, but his father’s voice brings him back.

‘’My name is John Winchester, the day is February 19, 1950," he says to the voice recorder. "Time eighteen haundred forty. This is day 1 of operation Heaven. I’m here with my son, Dean Winchester and with our object of study. At the moment, any information about the subject are unknown.’’

‘’We will ask you questions and you will answer them, whether you like it or not," he addresses the Angel now. "You can speak of your own free will, or…’’ John walks up to a table on his left and picks something up. It looks like a small sword. Dean thinks he saw Blue Eyes flinch at the sight, but he can’t be sure. This must be the angel blade, he thinks. ‘’or we will make you talk.’’ Dean’s breath hitches inside his throat.

He didn’t think about it. He doesn’t want to torture anyone, he doesn’t want to torture an angel. 

‘’Dad, maybe that’s not necessary. We will do just fine without all that,’’ gesturing at the table with torture tools. "He's gonna talk. Right?" He asks, eyes once again meeting ocean blues.

‘’I will talk,’’ the deep, gravelly voice says, and Dean tries to hide a shiver at the sound. ‘’But only to him,’’ pointing at Dean and before he can even think of anything to say,

‘’No,’’ John answers without missing a beat.

‘’Dad-’’

‘’I said no. I’m not leaving you here alone with It.’’

‘’I’ll be fine. I promise,’’ and weirdly, he really feels like Blue Eyes wouldn’t hurt him. For some reason he’s not going to study further; he trusts him.

John looks conflicted and reluctant to leave. He's clearly afraid of losing his son, especially after what happened mere minutes ealier, but he doesn’t really have any other choice. Always made to think that the most important thing is to complete the mission. He leaves.

And there are only two left.

Dean doesn’t know what to do next, he never did any of this before. Sure, he went through training, but it's not the same as the real thing. Is he supposed to ask questions? Maybe John should have stayed. He would know what to do. 

No. 

Dean can do this. 

‘’You know my name, what’s yours?’’ Seems like a good start.

But he doesn’t get an answer. Instead, he’s stuck in another long staring contest. Does this guy not need to blink? Jesus.

‘’You understood me. At the beginning,’’ Blue Eyes breaks the silence.

‘’Um, yeah. Is that bad?’’ Dean doesn't know shit about angels, he didn’t even know they existed 11 hours ago. He went through the file his dad gave him but that’s it. Was he not supposed to hear him? Others didn’t. Fuck, there’s something wrong with him, of course there is. He sh-

His little breakdown is, fortunately, interrupted, ‘’bad? No, not really. Extraordinary? Yes,’’ he says, head tilted, gaze curious and Dean does not think he looks cute. There’s an eldritch horror right in front of him and Dean does NOT think he looks like a bird.

Well, he does have wings-

‘’Why?’’

‘’That was my true voice. Normally, people aren’t capable of hearing it. Only few can,’’ he explains. ‘’You saw how the others reacted.’’ 

So…

‘’You're special, Dean. Why?’’

‘’I-’’ what the hell is he supposed to say to that. Fuck. He’s not special. He’s nobody.

Let’s… ignore that.

‘’Your true voice? You're using a different voice now?’’ He asks instead.

His question is once again ignored.

‘’You know, when I was a kid,’’ he tries, ‘’my mom used to tell me that angels were watching over me. I don’t know why they chose me to talk to you, but maybe that’s a good thing, because I'm probably the only one here who doesn’t want to hurt you. So just… talk to me?’’

Dean is starting to think this is pointless, when after a couple of minutes, the Angel decides to give in,

‘’This is not my body. This is… a vessel.’’

‘’You’re possessing some poor bastard?’’

‘’He’s a devout man, he actually prayed for this. Angels can’t enter the human’s body without permission. We’re not demons,’’ he scoffs.

"So you're not alone in there?"

"Oh, no, James is long gone. He wanted to go to his wife in Heaven, so I let him go."

‘’Sure… um, what about your… real body?’’

‘’It’s not a body, not really. More like… waves and lights of pure energy. Humans can’t see it, it would cause them great damage,’’ he squints at Dean again. ‘’I think you would be able to see it. But we shouldn’t test that theory.’’ Dean’s not sure if he’s greatful or disappointed. 

He explains how finding a perfect vessel works and he tells Dean that Angel’s true forms are more complicated, that every Angel’s true form is different. Their size depends on their rank, some Angels are bigger and more powerful than others. Same for the number of wings. Higher ranking Angels can have up to twelve, while regular ones only have four. When it comes to their faces, it describes the personality of the Angel, their dominant features. They have faces of animals that best describes them, like some have lions, an owl or foxes. When Dean asks, he tells him that yes, Angels have many faces.

His voice is soothing, Dean finds himself thinking he could listen to it all day.

‘’What does your true form look like?’’ He asks around a yawn.

Blue Eyes keeps quiet, not taking his eyes away from Dean (again). Dean probably should be more weirded out by this. He’s surprised to realize it doesn’t bother him at all.

‘’Maybe you should go to sleep, Dean.’’ 

That makes Dean look at the clock and damn. It got late. Has he really been here for 6 hours? 

‘’Yeah, you’re right,’’ he gets up, yawning arund a stretch and then picks up the voice recorder, ‘’Dean Winchester, day February 20, 1950. Time zero one-twenty. Day one of operation Heaven is now over," he says before turning it off.

Dean notices that the fire around the Angel is gone, have been for some time now actually. They have some weakening sigils in the bunker that should work on him and he's behind bars, but still. He's a celestial being. He might have attacked him all this time. He probably could have escaped if he went around the sigils. But he didn’t.

‘’Oh.’’

Then,

‘’Can I…can I ask you something?’’ He asks.

‘’It depends.’’

Dean huffs, ‘’alright. Well, I don’t want to hurt you, but I also don’t want you to hurt me. Would you mind if I… put these on you?’’ He picks up ‘monster handcuffs’ from the table and sheepishly shows them to Blue Eyes.

‘’What are those?’’

‘’They’re meant to prevent the supernatural from using their powers.’’

The Angel looks at them, but doesn’t say anything. He’s considering his decision, so Dean continues,

‘’I believe you won't hurt me. But I don’t think the others do, so it'd be for your own good.’’

Blue Eyes finally nods, slowly. 

‘’Alright,’’ he says, but there’s a slight hesitation in his voice.

‘’You sure?’’

Deep breath, ‘’yes.’’

Dean walkes over to him for the first time. He doesn’t open the cage, just slips his hands through the bars. His heart is beating fast, hands shaking a little, but he’s not scared. Just nervous. 

God.

Now, they are only inches apart, only with bars separating them.

His eyes are even more blue up close.

Dean has to look away from his face and down at his hands and holy mother of god his hands. He holds back a whimper. Barely.

Get a grip, Winchester. This is, literally, a Heavenly, holy creature. Pure thoughts only.

He shakes the thoughts off. 

Carefully, Dean puts the handcuffs on him, making sure it’s not too tight and absolutely not thinking about the electric feeling where their skin touches or about the shiver that ran down his spine, raising goose bumps on the back of his neck.

He didn’t know a person could feel so much at once. Maybe that's an angel thing.

When he’s done, he clears his throat and steps back, not too far away because he’s (unfortunately) a very weak, weak man. He looks up and green eyes meet blues. Dean does not blush at the attention.

‘’Well, um… goodnight,’’ and he bolts. 

‘’Sleep well, Dean.’’

His hand is pressing on the doorknob, when he hears a voice, quiet from a distance,

‘’Castiel. My name is Castiel.’’

Dean smiles, ‘’see you tomorrow, Cas.’’

And then, he promptly leaves without looking back. He doesn’t see the shocked look on Castiel's face.

It really must be his day, because on the way to his bedroom, once again, he doesn’t stumble across any Men of Letters. There, Dean locks the door behind him, leans against them and takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. That seems to be tonight’s theme.

This is bad. 

Really, really bad.

What was he thinking? He needs to cool it. So what if the Angel he has to spend the next however long with, in one room, probably alone, is the most stunning man he has ever seen? So what if he has eyes like the ocean and Dean wants to drown in them? Exactly! Nothing. 

But his pillowy lips- 

Stop!

He spent years keeping this part of himself down, he can do it for a few more weeks.

He’s going to get the job done. No problem. 

But first, he needs to go to sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.

So, Dean steps further into the room to get ready to bed, just like every other day. Like everything is totally normal.

That night, he dreams of blue.

-----

Day two starts the same, like always; Mrs. Butters wakes him up way too early, he puts on the monkey suit and goes to the kitchen for breakfast.

When he steps into the doorway, the room falls silent. That’s new. Usually they can't seem to shut up when he walks in. Now though, everyone is looking at him like he grew a second head. Which, no, that would probably be more typical in a bunker full of magic objects, than talking for hours to an Angel from Heaven and walking out of the room alive. 

‘’Mornin’, fellas,’’ he says with a fake cheerfulness and goes to his seat. It’s not until Dean’s halfway through his third toast, drinking his second cup of coffee, when Markham dares to break the awkward silence,

‘’So… how did it go?’’

To be honest, Dean was expecting to be bombarded with questions. He's almost disappointed. He now knows some things no other living person may know. This was the goal of the job, to get information, but

nothing. They seem… nervous. Like they're afraid to look Dean in the eyes. After that little stunt with being the only person whose brain didn’t almost spill out of his ears, they probably think he’s some kind of a monster, too.

Great, because he needed another reason for them to think he’s a complete freak. 

Thank fuck for John’s murderous glare, because they’d likely have him already tied up and started testing him even before his first sip of coffee.

‘’Um… he told me about angel possession. It’s not his body, they call it a- a ‘’vessel’’. It was a man, and apparently, he… prayed for it. Angels don’t possess humans like demons, they need permission from the host,’’ speaking, he marveled at the fact that they've never listened to him speak so intensely. Usually, they don't even pay attention to him when he’s in the same room unless they're making fun of him. A nice change. 

"It also can't be random humans, they need to be from specific bloodlines."

‘’I also found out what their real forms more or less look like. People can’t see it though, it would burn their eyes out or even kill them.’’ He just now realizes how dangerous the creature he was speaking to is. Cas could kill him without moving a finger. 

So why did he feel so safe with him?

I think you would be able to see it.

‘’I put the cuffs on him, so he shouldn’t be able to leave the body or use his powers. I don’t know what he can do yet, I’ll need more time,’’ a small voice in the back of his head tells him it’s not at all why he asks to spend more time with Blue Eyes and he decides to ignore it. 

‘’I.. I will write the report later and hand it over to Larry, as we agreed.’’

Dean digs back into his forgotten toast, suddenly embarrassed. Maybe it’s not good enough, maybe they will tell him how useless he is and give the job to someone else. He could live with that. Probably.

His father claps him on the back, ‘’good work, son.’’ Dean gives him a small smile and looks back down on his plate. Of course John would say that, he’s his dad. Not that Dean doesn’t appreciate his father’s support, he’s always wanted John to be proud of him. Ever since Dean was a little kid he would look up to his father, just… now it’s more complicated. 

It’s Dean’s first job as a Man of Letters and he wants to do it well. He wants others to finally accept him as part of the team, of the family. Sad to say, but one praise from his father won’t be enough this time. He waits for someone else to speak.

‘’Yeah, Winchester. You did good, surprisingly,’’ Sinclair squints at him, his gaze turns suspicious. ‘’But, I have one question for you.’’ 

‘’What is it, sir?’’

‘’Why didn't It attack you? You were the only one unaffected. Are we sure it’s safe for you to continue the research?’’

‘’Uh, he didn’t attack anyone. He was probably disoriented? And he used his true voice. I understood him…’’

‘’Why?’’

You’re special, Dean. Why?

‘’I… don’t know,’’ he says, ashamed, and looks away, suddenly not hungry anymore, but he doesn’t know if he can leave the table.

‘’Huh.’’ And that’s all Sinclair says, but Dean can still feel his eyes boring on the top of his head. 

After that,  it's quiet around the table, until Martinez asks about Angels’ true forms. Dean tells them everything he remembers.

He doesn't mention Cas’s name. For some reason, he wants to keep it a secret.

Following breakfast, the MoL have another boring meeting. When it's over, Dean's father says that they need to talk, so he waits for him in the kitchen. From there, he’s led all the way to John’s room. Looks like it’s going to be one of those serious talks. 

‘’Are you okay?’’

‘’Yeah dad. I’m good. Why?’’

‘’You know you can still back out if you don’t want to do this. I can take care of the Angel. If it's to dangerous-’’

‘’No, dad. I told you, I want to do this. Don’t worry, he won’t hurt me. Besides, I have a feeling he won’t talk to anyone else but me,’’ he admits, maybe a bit too hopeful.

‘’I could make him talk.’’

‘’No!’’ Dean says sharply. ‘’I mean… it’s not necessary. He trusts me. No need to get violent.’’

John is quiet for a second, thinking. 

‘’Okay. If you’re sure,’’ he says finally. ‘’When are you going down there?’’

‘’I actually wanted to go right after the meeting, so…’’

‘’Oh, of course. You want me to go with you? Just in case?’’

‘’No, I’ve got this,’’ Dean sends his father a smile and leaves the room. But before going to the dungeon, he first returns to the kitchen for two cups of coffee. Not sure how Cas likes it, he hides creamer and sugar in his jacket’s pockets. 

Underground, Dean finds Cas sitting still on the bed in his cell. His head down and hands folded as if in prayer. He looks up, hearing Dean enter.

‘’Hi, I’m not interrupting, am I? I can come back later if you want.’’

‘’No, it’s alright. Hello, Dean,’’ he says, his lips quirk up in a small smile. And Dean is in so much trouble.

‘’How are you doing?’’ He asks.

‘’Considering being imprisoned, quite well actually.’’

‘’Yeah… sorry about that.’’

What else is there to say? He feels guilty, but it’s not up to him. He just follows orders. If he could, he would have let him go. Angels aren’t even a threat to them, didn’t they say yesterday that Angels prefer to stay up in Heaven? What do they need this information for?

‘’I brought you coffee,’’ he says instead. He’s about to pass the cup to Cas through the bars when

‘’I don’t drink coffee.’’

‘’Oh,’’ he takes the cup back, not sure what to do now. ‘’You want something else?’’ He could go back to the kitchen, get him some water instead-

‘’No. What I meant is, angels don’t drink. Or eat. We don’t need sleep either.’’

‘’Huh. So, you never tried coffee?’’

‘’No.’’

Dean steps closer and hands him the cup one more time with a giddy smile, ‘’come on then, try it.’’

Cas hesitantly takes it from him, it’s more difficult with cuffs on, but he manages. He carefully takes a sip. 

‘’What do you think?’’

Cas makes a face, ‘’it tastes like molecules.’’

‘’That bad?’’ Blue Eyes gives an answering nod, but still takes another sip. Dean chuckles.

‘’Here, I got you cream and sugar. Add some to the coffee, maybe the molecules will taste better with them,’’ he says and takes both out of his pocket to hand them over to Cas. Their fingers brush and Dean’s hand tingles at the touch. He has to force himself not to tear his hand away. 

‘’Thank you.’’

He should start recording, he's supposed to be asking questions, that’s why he’s here. Instead, he’s too busy watching Cas try his first coffee. It kinda counts, right? He just found out Angels don’t have basic human needs like food and sleep and that they don’t have taste. He’s theoretically doing his job. If enjoying watching an Angel try something for the first time is a bonus then no one needs to know.

Cas puts cream and three sachets of sugar into the coffee before he’s at least slightly satisfied.

‘’Mm, I suppose it’s not that bad,’’ he says and smiles at Dean, who tries to ignore the fluttering in his stomach. It’s nothing. The smile looks like he tries to remember how to do it.

Dean clears his throat and steps back. He turns on the voice recorder, ‘’I’m Dean Winchester. Date February 20, 1950. Time zero nine-thirty five. Day two of operation Heaven. I’m here with our subject, an Angel, name still unknown,’’ he sees Cas look sharply at him with question, mouth already open to speak, but Dean shakes his head. He will explain later (or not). Cas tilts his head further and Dean huffs a small laugh at it.

‘’Alright, let’s get started,’’ he says as he sits down with his own cup of coffee, taking a sip.

‘’Yesterday, you said something about… Angel ranks? Could you tell me more about it? Does that mean there’s, like, a hierarchy in Heaven?’’

Castiel doesn’t reply right away and when he turns around and walks away, Dean thinks he’s not going to get an answer, but soon enough, Cas sits on the bed and takes a sip, before saying,

‘’Heaven is divided by power. The Archangels are the most powerful, I believe you've heard of them. They are the four oldest angels, the only ones who have seen the face of God Himself. Many religions give a different number of Archangels, really, there are only four. Michael, the eldest of all, then Lucifer, Raphael and last, the youngest, is Gabriel. For centuries, no one has had contact with any of them. Michael and Lucifer started fighting each other when Lucifer rebelled against God. Raphael fought alongside Michael and Gabriel allegedly couldn't take it and he retreated to the Earth as an escape. His trace was lost. As for the war between the brothers, Michael won. He imprisoned Lucifer in a cage, and he, along with Raphael, took control over Heaven.’’

‘’God wanted humans, his precious creation, to be safe, so He sent a group of other powerful Angels to watch over and protect humanity. These Angels are called Grigori. There are Seraphim too. Also very powerful, but less so. Their task is to protect God’s throne and guide lost souls to the right path. Rit Zien, or 'Hands of Mercy', are medics of Heaven. They are the only ones who have the power to heal and kill other Angels using their own hands.’’

‘’We have Regular Angels, who are not as powerful as the previous ones, but still dominate in the hierarchy of other creatures. Then there are the angels of the third class, Cherubim- ''

''Wait, wait, '' Dean interrupts, '' Cherubim? Like Cupid? Heaven's matchmakers are real? Little flying fat kid in a diaper? Shooting arrows to make people fall in love?''

"They're not incontintent."

Dean stares at him blankly.

''They're responsible for manipulating affection in certain, special bloodlines. They get an order when Heaven needs a specific person to be born, when they have a plan for that person.’’ Dean nods. Alright, I guess.

‘’Intelligence Angels, whose main task is to gather information and... when someone, an angel, causes problems they... fix him,'' he says, jaw clenching. He closes up after that, he looks small and Dean feels really protective over him all of sudden. Moment later Cas takes a deep breath and continues, ''there are also Fallen Angels, the ones expelled from Heaven, or some who decided to leave on their own, though it’s a difficult, painful process.’’

‘’How-,’’ Cas glares at him. ‘’Alright, touchy. Sorry.’’

Cas continues to give him a dirty look as he speaks,

‘’And finally, the Nephilim. It's the offspring of an angel and a human. None exist at the moment, at least not to my knowledge. They are very dangerous and absolutely forbidden.’’ He looks down at the floor and it’s like he’s remembering something distressing. "In 1901, we were sent on a mission, me and my garrison, to get rid of the Nephilim. It was a little girl and-'' he stops himself and Dean understands it’s because it’s too much for him at once.

''You...killed her?''

''I didn't,'' he says quietly to the floor. ''But I couldn't do anything to stop them.''

''Oh... I'm sorry.''

''Me too.''

Dean gives him some time to himself, it must have been difficult to talk about, especially to a stranger. He asks if Cas wants some more coffee, then goes to the kitchen and stays there a little longer than necessary.

When he gets back, he asks some follow up questions about what Cas just shared with him, careful not to overstep, starting with

‘’So, what type of Angel are you?’’

‘’I’m a...'' he hesitates, ''Seraph. Poor example of one.’’

‘’What do you mean?’’

‘’As a Seraph, my purpose was to protect God, to be His shield.’’ Castiel takes a big sip of his coffee, ‘’but I realized God doesn’t care about us, so why should I care about him?’’ 

Dean doesn’t know how to answer that. He never believed in God, but it somehow feels so much worse to have an angel tell you that God is real, but left, because he doesn’t care about any of you. 

They talk more until hours later his stomach growls.

‘’Sorry. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.’’

‘’It’s alright, Dean. I won’t keep you any longer.’’ 

And so Dean ends the recording, after almost eight hours, and says goodbye to the Angel.

‘’See you tomorrow, Dean.’’

He leaves the dungeon with a smile on his face. He likes Cas, it’s nice to have someone to talk to, even if the topic gets heavy sometimes. 

When he enters the kitchen, Mrs. Butters smiles at him from where she’s setting the table,

‘’Perfect timing, Mr. Winchester. I'm just about to serve dinner.’’

‘’How many times do I have to tell you, Mrs. Butters, call me Dean,’’ he says with an easy grin. ‘’Do you need any help?’’

‘’Oh, aren’t you a sweetheart,’’ she pats his cheek when he’s close enough to reach. ‘’You can finish here and I will call over the rest of the boys over.’’

Dean starts setting up the plates and he can’t help but think about Cas. It’s been only two days and he can’t explain why he feels this way, like maybe with Cas here, he will finally find a place he fits in.

Someone he fits with. 

No. It’s ridiculous. The dude’s an Angel. He can’t taste food, what are the chances he can feel human emotions, such as- 

Stop it.

But the way Cas looks at him, like he’s something special... No one has ever looked at Dean like that and he doesn’t know what it means…

Eating dinner, Dean faintly wonders if Cas would like the taste of these molecules.

-----

Dean falls asleep writing reports on the first two days of their meetings, lulled by the memory of ocean blues and deep, calm voice.

-----

The next weeks pass by in a blur and everyday is rather similar. Dean wakes up, gets ready, eats breakfast and answers all the questions he can. Then he meets Cas and they talk. 

It started simple, with more questions about Angels and Heaven. Dean now knows more things about angel wings than the human brain can probably contain and that there are prophets, who are supposed to be God’s voice on Earth. They have the power to see the future or pieces of it, and the ability to read the Word of God (‘’The tablets were written by the Scribe of God, Metatron, while God was forming creation. No other angel has ever seen them, they’re hidden.’’). 

Cas drew him some helpful sigils, in case he ever needed them. One is an angel banishing sigil, it has to be drawn with blood and it banishes any angel in its range back to Heaven. There’s also an angel wards that helps keep Angels out of a building. Cas said they would keep him safe. And that they should probably put them in the bunker.

‘’Are other Angels looking for you?’’

‘’You don’t have to worry about it.’’ He says, leaving Dean with more questions than answers.

Cas keeps a lot of stuff to himself, too. Mainly those that could hurt him or his brothers and sisters. Dean doesn’t blame him for it and avoids this topic. He also desperately doesn’t want his colleagues to know these things.

Over time they move away from the topic and start talking about various other things. Dean has made it his new goal to introduce Cas to all of his favorite meals, and while everything tastes like molecules to him, he doesn't deter Dean from continuing. Quite the contrary, whenever Dean comes with a new pie or drink, Cas has that small smile on his face, eyes sparkling, and he asks what it is.

Dean stopped recording their meetings after the first week. To be honest, he just forgot about it and now he just hopes no one will notice if he will regularly delivers the reports.

Cas seems to be more open when he knows no one else is listening. He likes to talk about his siblings, about his old garrison and some things they did. Dean once got him to tell him the real story of the creation of the Earth and it took him three days to wrap it up. 

Turns out, when you've been alive for millenia, you have a lot of stories to tell, so he tells Dean stories from old days, about wars he participated in, about people he me and places he has visited. Dean is dumb enough to ask him if he could show him someday and he regrets it immediately. Until Cas agrees.

Dean talks, too. He tells Cas everything about his baby brother, how proud of him he is, about and about how he ended up being a Man of Letters. He tells him about his mom and how much he misses her. Dean's childhood stories are nothing compared to the things Cas saw, but the Angel is still always very attentive when he speaks.

One time Dean brought whiskey, because he wanted to see if he could get a celestial being drunk,

‘’Angels heal faster than humans and alcohol is a substance that somehow negatively affects the body. It will probably heal on its own before I even feel anything.’’

‘’You keep saying, but I heard that ‘probably’ in there, which means you’re drinking and we’re testing that theory, angel.’’

It took Cas longer to feel something, but alcohol did work. The only downside to this is that Dean is much more hammered and he’s babbling.

‘’Why do you talk to me?’’ Dean asks, because nothing is stopping him now. His brain catches up too late.

‘’What do you mean?’’ Well, no backing down now.

‘’Dude, we kinda kidnapped you, didn’t we? You’re literally in a cell block right now, have been for weeks. But you've been answering my questions since day one,’’ he hiccups. ‘’So I’m just… wondering.’’

‘’You… intrigue me.’’

‘’I- what?’’ He’s too drunk for this, ugh.

‘’Your soul. It’s very bright, almost blinding.’’

Yup, definitely too drunk. ‘’Um… what does that mean?’’

‘’That you’re special,’’ Cas gives a gummy smile, Dean likes that smile. Very good smile. ‘’It means you’re a good person.’’

‘’Oh,’’ he looks down, cheeks burning red. He doesn’t even try to disagree, although he probably should. Would, if he was more sober. Now he just basks in Castiel’s warm gaze and… tries not to vomit from all the butterflies fluttering their wings in his stomach. 

They still talk for hours after that and somehow, Dean finds himself inside Cas’s cell, taking off his handcuffs, because they talked about magic and now, a very drunk Dean wants Cas to show him some cool party trick (‘’I don’t party, Dean.’’), so Cas does.

They sit on the tiny bed, their sides pressed together and Cas’s cupped hands glow until a small flower with white petals grows in them. Cas gives it to Dean,

‘’For you,’’ he says quietly. ‘’It’s a gardenia. I can't do much, the sigils are blocking most of my grace.’’

Dean laughs, it’s not what he expected, ‘’thank you.’’ He takes the flower and puts it behind his ear, presenting it to Cas with a goofy grin.

‘’Beautiful,’’ Cas whispers and Dean stops breathing. 

He heard it wrong, right? There’s no way-

 
‘’It’s late. I should go,’’ he says in one breath. If he stays here longer, he will do something really, really stupid. He gets up too fast and his head spins. Cas, of course, is there to catch him before he falls and the movement puts them closer. Dean can now feel the Angel’s whiskey breath on his cheek and he turns to face him. Their breaths mix together with how close they are. Dean licks his lips and his heart beats faster as he sees Cas’s eyes follow the movement.

Dean leans in before he fully realizes what he's doing, thinking his dreams will finally come true, but Cas turns away. Dean’s heart sinks,

‘’Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t-,’’ he panics. What if he just ruined everything. He’s about to lose his only friend, his best friend. All because he couldn't control himself?

‘’Shh, it’s alright, Dean. I just don’t want it to be like this,’’ he says.

‘’You’re drunk,’’ he adds, seeing Dean’s blank expression. Dean laughs in relief. 

‘’You’re right, I really should go,’’ he says, not moving an inch, enjoying the warmth of Cas’s body against his side.

Cas is the reasonable one and steps away. Dean is about to lock the cell when he remembers,

‘’Should I put them back on?’’ He asks, pointing at the cuffs. ‘’I’m the only one coming down here, so not like anyone would notice, right?’’

‘’It’s your choice. I don’t mind them if it makes you more comfortable.’’

‘’I trust you.’’

‘’Thank you.’’ Their eyes meet and like every time, Dean can’t look away. Always drowning in the ocean of his eyes.

‘’Sleep well, Dean,’’ Cas breaks the silence and Dean finally closes the bars. It always kills him a little bit to leave him here alone, locked up. He wants to take him to his room, show him how to bake pie in the kitchen, go for a walk outside the bunker, let Cas take him to his favorite places on Earth like he promised. He probably misses using his wings. 

God, this is awful. 

He has to do something.

‘’Night, Blue Eyes.’’

Before going to sleep he fills an empty beer bottle with water and puts the flower inside. 

-----

In the morning, his head hurts like a bitch, but he has to get through this damn meeting. He hopes he can suffer in silence, but the universe has other plans,

‘’Winchester!’’ Dean holds back a groan. Jesus, why so loud?

‘’Yeah?’’

‘’It’s been almost three months. Are you getting anything new from your little angel boyfriend there?’’ Sinclair asks. They started teasing him about it a while back, seeing him with all the food he kept bringing downstair, how much time he spent there. At first he just thought it was annoying, then he realized how much he wanted it to be true, but he's too tired to worry about it.

‘’Yes. No? I dunno. Sometimes.’’ He’s too hungover for this.

‘’We went through all of your reports, we think we have everything. There’s not a lot about how to hurt them, though.’’

‘’You already know how to kill them, you have the angel blade from the last time.’’

‘’We were counting on something more, but nevermind that. We think we don’t need him anymore.’’

Oh. 

That was like getting hit with a cold bucket of water.

‘’Y- you’re gonna let him go?’’ Cas will leave and Dean won’t ever see him again.

‘’Oh, no. We can’t just let him go,’’ Sinclair scoffs like Dean’s lost his mind. ‘’We’ll kill him.’’

Dean’s heart stopped for a few seconds. He freezes, he doesn’t hear anything but white noise. 

No. No way. 

‘’You can’t kill him,’’ he finally sputters. It must have taken him longer than he thought to get the words out, because he'd just interrupted a completely different conversation. He doesn’t care. Out of panic he cannot think rationally.

‘’And why is that, exactly? Enlighten me.’’

‘’Because-’’ there’s so many reasons, but he knows none of them will convince them. They don’t care.

His mouth opens and closes, no words come out.

‘’That’s what I thought.’’ They carry on their conversation like nothing ever happened, while Dean’s heart is beating out of his chest. He can’t let them do this. 

They have to leave.

He waits until the meeting is over, not to raise any suspicions. He goes to his room and quickly packs his bag, he throws in some of the comfortable clothes he still owns and his toiletries. He leaves it there for now.

His head is still pounding when he’s downstairs and unlocking Cas’s cell. 

‘’God, remind me not to drink ever again,’’ he groans.

‘’I could heal you, if you’d like,’’ Cas suggests slowly.

Dean stops. ‘’Uhh…’’ He has only ever seen Cas use his powers once, yesterday, and it was to grow a flower. Not a lot to go by, but, ‘’okay.’’ 

Cas steps closer to him and raises his hand, touching his index and middle finger to Dean’s forehead and Dean stands completely still. He holds back a flinch, because he wants to show Cas that he trusts him. Then, he feels a warm, tingling sensation of angel grace running through his body. He shivers and smiles bashfully at Cas when it's over.

‘’Thanks.’’

‘’Any time. Now, tell me what’s going on? You’re panicking,’’ Cas says with a concerned expression.

‘’Oh, yeah. We have a problem. Sinclair says they don’t need you anymore, so we have to run.’’

‘’We?’’

Dean for once knows what he’s doing and he takes Cas’s face between his hands, ‘’yes, dumbass. We.’’

‘’Oh.’’ 

They both lean in at the same time. The kiss is soft at first, just a warm touch of their lips against each other and Dean thinks it’s perfect, but then, then, Cas’s lips part, allowing Dean’s tongue to slip inside. A small sound escapes his mouth and he presses their bodies closer. Cas’s hands find their place on his hips, while his are tangled in the dark mess of the Angel’s hair.

Dean has a random thought that it feels like heaven and he chuckles into the kiss at the irony. Cas pulls away with a question written on his face. Dean shakes his head,

‘’Nothin’,’’ and he leans in once more to peck at his mouth. Pressing their foreheads together, he whispers, ‘’as much as I want to keep doing this, we can’t stay here.’’

‘’What’s the plan?’’

"We need to go to my room. You're gonna wait there while I take down the sigils that are keeping you inside and your power low. I'm guessing you can't fly us there?"

"No. The sigils are too strong," Cas says, much to Dean's disappointment.

"Alright, so we have to walk. Walk behind me, I will be making sure no one sees us."

Dean takes a deep breath and looks at Cas, at his disheveled hair and wide, blue eyes. He wants to kiss him again. He will. When they're safe. "Come on," he takes his hand instead, fingers tangled together like they're two missing puzzles finally finding each other, and he leads him toward the door. Before opening, he reluctantly let's go, but he needs to check if no one is waiting outside. "Clear."

They walk up the stairs and their hands find each other again, but as planned, Cas is behind him. If they stumble across someone, they would definitely see him, but Dean doesn't let go.

Not even when walking down the corridor, they run into John. He holds on tighter.

‘’Dad! What are you doing here?’’ He asks too loudly in shock.

‘’I was just looking for you. Sinclair and the others are getting ready to, you know…’’ John gestures at the Angel.

‘’Can’t you stop them?’’ It’s too late, he knows, but he has to try.

‘’Believe it or not, but I already tried,’’ his father admits. ‘’I’ve noticed how much you… care about him.’’

Oh.

So, John… knows.

Dean's known he’s different since he was around 12 years old. He never liked girls like his friends did and it didn’t matter to him. but he knew most people would think it’s wrong, so he kept it a secret. Flirting with women when others watch, never look at other men for too long. But maybe he didn’t do as good of a job as he thought he did. Maybe that’s why the Men of Letters were always treating him like an outcast, a freak-

And now his father-

‘’I’m sorry,’’ because what else is he supposed to say. He’d failed him. 

‘’Oh, don’t give me that crap. I don’t care. I’m… proud of you, son.’’

Seriously?

‘’Are you possessed? Should I go get holy water or something?’’

John laughs, ‘’no, it’s me. I’m telling the truth. So, what’s your plan?’’

‘’What?’’ He really must have missed some steps, what is going on right now?

‘’You’re letting him out, what’s your plan?’’

‘’Oh… um, I need to take down the sigils, we're going to my room first so no one will see him. And, dad? I, um, I’m actually going with him.’’

John looks at Dean for a long moment, clearly contemplaining. Dean almost wants to tell him they don't have time for this. He should tell him that actually. If the Men on Letters are getting ready, they could be here anytime now, but eventually, John sighs and gives him a small, sad smile. He turns around, doing the ‘’come on’’ gesture to follow him.

So they go. 

But Dean’s still not sure what is happening. 

‘’Yeah, of course. I get it. Just, be careful, son, alright? Your mother would kill me if something happened to you," his father says.

‘’Don’t worry, angels are watching over me, right?’’ Dean says with a grin.

His father huffs a laugh, ‘’yeah, I suppose that’s true.’’

‘’Well, you have about ten minutes before they notice something is wrong, so let’s get to work.’’

They find Dean's room without any more trouble and tell Cas to stay inside, while Dean and his father go to the library, where most of the sigils are hidden. Together, they destroy every sigil that is holding Cas inside and weaker. 

Other Men of Letters have to walk through the library to go to the dungeon, which means Dean can hear them talking and loading guns while taking down the last sigil. He doesn’t have much time, come on, come on.

Exactly as they enter the room, Dean steps away from the bookcase the sigil was carved into, hiding the knife in his pants' pocket. They stare each other down.

"Whatcha doin' there, Dean-o?" Fletcher asks.

"Just, you know," he gestures at the bookcase, "looking for a book." He just needs to get rid of them and run to his bedroom. Then it's over.

"You gonna cause trouble?"

"Never," Dean lies.

Sinclair and the others walk further into the room. Now, there's only a table between them. They look ready for him to do something, probably something stupid, which, yeah, he will, but have more faith.

"We're going down now. John, stay with him, make sure he won't try anything." John nods.

The moment they're out of sight, Dean looks at his father, looking for guidance.

"Go."

Dean bounces on his feet, thinking. They never do this, but he runs to his dad and gives him a quick hug, "thank you." Then,

"Do you think mom will be mad?" Dean knows that if his mom had been disappointed in him, he wouldn't have been able to bear it. But his dad claps him on the back and says,

"Impossible." 

Yeah, alright. Good.

He steps back, "I've gotta go. You gonna be okay when they find out?"

"Don't worry about me. Go, Dean."

Dean bites his lips, nervous. His dad is right, there's no time. They probably already noticed Cas is not in his cell and they're gonna start looking for him. At last, Dean nods at his father and runs to his room. Fast. 

He throws himself at the door and falls into the room. Cas is sitting at the foot of Dean's bed, flicking through a book he found on Dean's bedside table.

"We can go," Dean gasps, walking further into the room to take his bag. He throws it onto his shoulder and holds his hand out to Cas, who takes it.

Together, they run.

Men are screaming curses and orders somewhere deeper inside the bunker. They have to hurry. Dean and Cas are already running up the stairs leading to the exit door, they're so close-

"Mr. Winchester! Where do you think you're going?" He turns around to see Mrs. Butters at the bottom of the stairs, hands on her hips, one holding a dust brush. She looks angry for the first time Dean has known her. For a woman so small, she looks terrifying and Dean is reminded that she's not a human at all. She could hurt them. 

Cas must have realized that too, because next thing Dean knows, Cas is stepping in front of him. Like a shield. 

Dean's breath caughts in his chest. 

"Mrs. Butters, just let us go. Please," he begs. She, of all people (or fairies, at least), should understand. With how much Dean had talked about him over the last months? How could she not-

"Dean, step away from It. It's dangerous," she says.

"What? No! What are you talking about? It's Cas."

"No, Dean. It's an Angel. He manipulated you, just like the serpent in the garden," she sounds sincere. 

"No, Mrs. Butters-"

The nymph glares at Cas and swoops her hand like she's trying to use her powers on him, but it doesn't work. She frowns and tries again a couple of times more, angry. 

Nothing. It doesn't work.

Dean takes advantage of her distraction and goes a few steps up, slowly and backwards so she doesn't notice. He tugs Cas's hand, making him move too.

Finally she gives up and looks at them. They freeze. 

"Dean. It took over your mind, I'm trying to help you," she snaps and gives up on trying to fight Cas, since her powers apparently don't work on angels. 

Now, when she flicks her hand, Dean feels his legs move. She takes control over his body, making him step away from Cas, their hands fall apart, making him panic,

"Cas?"

"Dean- '' as he's trying to get a hold of Dean's hand again, unsuccessfully. 

Dean is almost at the bottom of the stairs, when Cas suddenly appears right in front of him. When he looks back at Dean, his eyes are glowing bright blue and he holds up his hand at the woman in front of them.

Dean grabs his shoulder, "wait, Cas- don't hurt her!" Maybe Dean shouldn't care so much, considering what is happening right now, but he can't just erase the previous years. She's been his only friend here, the only person he could have talked to that didn't make fun of him one way or another. She may be… confused now, but she's good. She's just trying to help.

Cas must sense his desperation, because he turns around to look at him again and his eyes slowly turn back to their natural color. 

"Please," Dean asks, just to be sure and Cas nods. Then, he touches Mrs. Butters on the forehead with his fingertips, like he did to Dean earlier and the Nymph crumpled to the ground.

"She's alive. Sleeping," the Angel explains before Dean even voices the question. They hear footsteps coming their way and Cas doesn’t wait before grabbing his shoulder. 

In a blink, they were standing on the roof of the bunker.

Dean sways and Cas has to hold him up again, "holy shit-" he gasps and proceeds to throw up afterwards.

"Ugh, that was unpleasant," Dean groans as he straightens and wipes his mouth, with a back of his hand.

"You will get used to it," Cas adds very helpfuly, not even looking at him. He's too busy basking in the sun, chin tipped up. He looks beautiful, Dean thinks. His eyes are closed, mouth parted and skin glowing against the warm glow of the sunlight. The spring breeze is softly blowing his already disheveled hair and Dean realizes he must have left his hat in the dungeon.

He's outside for the first time in months.

Then another realisation hits him-

"Wait, hold up. You could have done this the whole time? Dude, why didn't you fly us out of my room?"

The Angel looks down at his feet, a rosy blush rising on his cheeks and Dean can't help but grin at the sight. For a(n ex) warrior of God, Cas is real friggin cute sometimes. 

"I- um, I didn't think about it when you… grabbed my hand. Sorry," angel bashfully apologies and Dean chuckles at that, making him look up with a scowl.

"Dork. God, you're so-" he doesn’t finish, because he throws himself at Cas and kisses him. The kiss is different then their first one, much deeper and it leaves them both breathless. 

Cas is the first one to break the kiss, "we probably shouldn't stay here, they're still looking for us," he says in the space between them, his eyes are still closed.

"Where are we going to go?" 

Heavenly blues meet forest greens, "we will make it up as we go. We have been doing well so far." His hand finds Dean's and together, 

they fly.