Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Castiel never considered himself liked or popular among the angels. He was just one of them. Even if it was painful to admit it, he had to.

But he couldn't know that his soul was different from all the others. He had something called humanity in him, and he was unaware of that for such a long time. He has lived hundreds, even thousands, of years not knowing he was special. Not knowing that he was going to hear his calling one day.

...

Castiel woke up sweating in the middle of a street in Kansas. The sun was shining so bright that he had to put his hands in front of his blue eyes to cover them.

His messy hair and crooked tie definitely made him look like a regular man who fainted from the heat on his way to his office. From the outside he must have looked like someone who has a boring but peaceful life. They probably assumed he had a wife at home and a few kids.

People stood around him, leaning closer to understand what could have possibly happened to the strange man lying on the ground. Castiel felt their curious eyes on his skin. He blinked and swallowed his breath, still sitting on the ground.

"Are you alright, sir?" A young boy asked with a clearly worried expression on his face. Castiel nodded, even though he was way too confused to understand what was going on around him. He squinted his eyes as he felt a lingering pang of pain in the back of his head.

"Should we call the ambulance?" He heard another guy ask the lady standing next to him. The man looked younger than Castiel, and the lady seemed nice. A confused look on both of their faces.

He tried sitting up as he felt a few hands on his back trying to help him. Some people grabbed his arms, pulling him into a standing position.

Now, he was standing there, his eyes scanning the people around him. Cas felt the sweat on his forehead, and memories flooded back in his head.

Something clicked inside him. He took a sharp breath in, and his eyes widened as he realized he had lost his wings. He tried opening his mouth, but nothing came out of it. He looked around, but he was surrounded by too many humans. None of them would understand him.

He had lost his wings. He has lost his wings. He could still feel the weight of his mesmerizing angel wings on his back. No words could describe truly what he felt; he just felt empty. He felt like something huge was missing. And the fact that nothing could ever replace what he had just lost made him feel more devastated than ever before.

He didn't breathe out, instead, he gathered his strength and started running. He felt the wind dry his sweat up, and he continued hurrying. People around him probably thought he was running late from work and he had to hurry or something.

He had no idea where he was or how he ended up there, but he felt the absence of them.

So he just kept running away from all people. He didn't care those people looked at him thinking he was a madman; he just ran. He ran, hoping there would be something waiting for him when he stopped.

Only after a few hundred meters did he suddenly finish running. He felt the sweat wet his clothes, and he was hyperventilating. He felt like he couldn't take another step because he realized he was feeling tired.

The realization hit him right in the gut. Tired?! He felt tired! He felt something a human feels every day. His first experience as a human was painful; he was no longer a celestial being, he was no one.

"What happened?" he asked himself, thinking this might be the end of his world. For sure, it wasn't the end of the world, but it definitely felt like it was the end of his world.

He looked around slowly, scared of everything now.

He used to be limestone, solid and strong. He wasn't scared of anything, really. But then, slowly, time reshaped him, and without realizing it, he turned into glass. Glass, which was so fragile and breakable. Glass, which was transparent. Because Castiel felt fragile and invisible.

Castiel found himself standing in the middle of a train station alone. Busy people surrounded him; everyone seemed to do their thing.

His confused and desperate expression on his face didn't seem to bother anyone there. He saw people passing by him, not even noticing him. He just stood there feeling defeated.

A few people bumped into him, murmuring a quick sorry or excuse me. And Castiel excused them, not knowing what he was supposed to say in a situation like this. Because he didn't have to deal with something like this before.

"Hey man, do you know from which track the train to South Dakota departs?" A stranger asked Castiel, who had longer brown hair and bored eyes.

Cas just stayed still, didn't move an inch. He looked at the man and said he didn't know. The other guy looked annoyed and did not even bother to say goodbye to him.

Is this really how he is going to have to live the rest of his life? In fear of what could kill him and being the one who stands out. He was an outsider, and he knew he always would be.

He then, as he stood there, felt a tear shedding from his glassy ocean blue eye. He lifted his fingers in surprise to feel the small drop of water under his eyes and then looked at his hands. Seeing his wet finger really made him feel something.

He kept staring at the tear, trying to figure out what to do next. But no matter how much he kept thinking, no ideas were good enough.

He looked around again, and he felt incredibly small; he felt like a little bug trying to survive in a world where most people are despised by insects.

A train just arrived, and people waited until others got off the train. Then the new passengers boarded the train.

For them it was a casual Monday or Friday, nothing special. For Castiel it was the beginning of his endless suffering.

He just felt something, something huge. Castiel tried to put his feelings into words, but no words came. Instead, he stuttered something and then chose to remain silent. He got scared by the feeling that he just cannot express his feelings.

He then slowly fell onto his knees and collapsed on the floor. He was one of them now, but still he wasn't really.

He buried his face into his bare hands and started crying even more. He sobbed like a little child that can't find its mother in the mall. But in this case his wings were his mother, and the mall was his world.

Chapter Text

The sound of silence was louder than any other sound Dean had ever heard. Since Sam moved out to have a "normal life", the life he always wanted, Dean spent all these weeks attending different bars and clubs.

He just wanted to have some fun. The day before, he got drunk in the nearest bar and left with a blonde woman, whose name he didn't bother to ask. Still, somehow it didn't feel right—maybe it was that his brother left him alone after so many years, maybe it was the girl.

Now as he sat in that old chair in the bunker deep underground, isolated from everyone, he just felt so... lost. Not knowing if he had a goal anymore.

He sat there in complete silence and just let himself think for a brief moment. His little brother had left just 2 weeks ago, and now that he was all by himself, he had no idea how to fill the void he felt.

He looked around only to be surrounded by thousands of memories. As he looked at the bookshelf, he remembered how much Sam used to read sitting in this exact chair and how Dean made fun of him for that. As he looked at the long wooden desk in front of him, he saw himself, Sam, and Castiel planning the next hunt.
The mention of his name. Castiel.

Castiel, his old friend. Dean hadn't heard from him in a while now, but he did not know how he could possibly interact with the angel. And he didn't know if he wanted to.

Dean and Sam had witnessed the fall of angels together near the church where Sam almost sacrificed himself for humanity.

Dean knew that Cas had to be on the same Earth as Dean—he just tried not to care. What happened to him? Where could he be? Does he still have his powers? Is he even an angel?

Dean shut his eyes, trying not to think about Castiel. Every time his name appeared in front of his eyes, he turned his head to look at something else. He searched for distractions desperatly.

Every time a memory Castiel was in popped up in Dean's head, he tried to make himself forget it. Forget how guilty he felt for betraying Castiel like that. Leaving him and not caring.

Forget he was a traitor. None of Dean's friends thought Dean was a traitor, but Dean did. He considered himself a betrayer, someone who would stab an important person in the back unexpectedly. He really thought he was the one who betrays and leaves people to suffer in their dirt. And did it matter at all what everyone else thought if he had a different opinion?

Dean slowly stood up, already feeling guilty about what he was about to do. He felt weak for always giving in, but he couldn't resist.

He started walking towards the kitchen, sometimes stopping and looking down at his hands, guilt-ridden. From time to time he wished he was sitting behind bars, arrested. Because from jail he couldn't hurt anyone, he wouldn't be a burden to anyone.

When he reached the kitchen, he stepped closer to the fridge and took out a brand new bottle of whiskey. The familiar bottle in his hands looked so invitingx even though Dean knew he shouldn't do it.

Dean grabbed the nearest glass and walked back to the place where he was earlier. His steps grew faster as he felt like he didn't have any time to waste, he had to drink now.

On his way back to his comfortable chair, the glass slipped from his fingers, breaking into a million little pieces on the floor. The sound of glass shattering made him flinch. The pieces of the remaining glass stared right back at him as he noticed his own reflection in them.

He took a deep breath, trying so hard to cool himself down, and then he lost it. There were no tears at first, he didn't feel guilty for dropping the glass, nor sad. The anger took a hold of him.

He felt uncontrollable. He kicked his feet into the wall of the hallway and let out a loud “Fuck!” as he realized this was the first word he said alone in the bunker ever since Sam left.

This realization made him even more furious. He felt his hands shake as he clenced his fists. And then the anger vanished like it was never there, with guilt and sadness replacing it.

He then slowly sat down right next to the glass, leaning his back against the cold wall. His body collided with the shattered glass on the floor, the sharp object cutting trough his clothes.

He felt blood on his right arm as a sharp piece of glass touched him, but he did not care at all because he had survived worse. He had survived so much worse. So why does it feel like he can't survive this?

He buried his face in his hands and then looked up slowly with tears in his eyes. Facing his bottle of whiskey lying right in front of him.

He didn't need a glass—he could still drink it, he thought. So he did. He opened the bottle and drank for as long as he could with only one breath. He felt the familiar taste of alcohol on his lips and tongue, and he felt a little better. He then took the bottle to his mouth once again—this time, he finished the bottle.

The regret came instantly, but it was too late again. The bottle was empty, so was Dean.

He could’ve got up to get another bottle of alcohol, because he had enough for a year, but instead he just sat there for a few minutes.

This was the first night since Sammy left that he spent in the bunker and not in some random bar, knocked out. And this was the 15th day in a row when he got so drunk that he couldn't even tell where he was.

He had stayed clean for such a long time and he had to ruin it. Of course he had to. He always does.

As he sat there in silence, lonely, he felt the alcohol kick in and it made him a bit sleepy. He was tired. So exhaused. He didn't have the chance to just break free and run.

He felt his eyes slowly shut as he lay down on his side by the wall. Without even realizing, some pieces cut his skin in many parts.

And he fell asleep quickly. It was finally over for him. The end of the day, his personal favorite moment.

And if maybe just for 12 hours, he felt relaxed, because he had no problems in his dreams. In his dreams, there was no loneliness, no alcohol, no Castiel. Sometimes in his worst nightmares these things did appear, but it was still better. It was better, because Dean was unconscious. He didn't have to deal with them.

Twelve hours later, Dean woke up sweating and found himself lying in the middle of the hallway, right by the wall on the right side.

He then felt something unexpected, so he touched his jaw with his finger, feeling something dried up on his face. He looked down at the ground where he had been lying all night, only to see red blood on the broken pieces of glass.

As he touched his jaw again, he noticed his own reflection in a bigger piece of glass. He quickly stood up and hurried to his bathroom to check his injuries.

"What a fucked up way to get injuries," he thought to himself. "What a loser," he said in his head as he opened the door to his bathroom. The shower and the sink appeared in front of him as he stepped to the sink, looking up to see himself. Then, when he saw his reflection in the mirror, he took a step back.

It wasn't that he hadn't been injured worse—he had survived times nobody should.

Somehow, it just reminded him of some memories he had buried deep, deep down. It made him remember a particular texture. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach and leaned closer to the mirror to examine the cuts on the right side of his face better.

What the hell was he gonna tell Sam when they met this afternoon? “Fuck,” he then thought, rushing over to take a look at the clock in the hallway, realizing he had only half an hour to get to Sammy's new house. And the ride there took around twenty-five minutes.

He washed his fresh cuts with water and then quickly pulled on a different black t-shirt. He hurried to the stairs and got his keys. After that, he put on his usual black leather jacket, fixing his silver necklace with a tiny cross on it.

He got the necklace from Castiel as a gift after Dean took Castiel to the local bar to get drunk after a hunt. He had worn it ever since. He didn't know why, but he felt like he shouldn't take it off. Even if he considered himself a traitor, he still missed Castiel.

As he reached his car, he looked around in the garage, feeling a pang of emptiness rush through him. He started the Impala and began driving to Sammy's new house.

Dean had not been there yet; this was going to be his first time. A few days ago, he memorized the way there, just in case. He never knew when Sam could be in need of help—he could be there in minutes or even less.

He didn't blame Sam for wanting a normal life—he couldn't possibly blame him for moving out and trying to start over. But Dean definitely felt pissed that Sam left him alone so suddenly.

Sam told Dean that they would meet almost every other day, but Dean knew that that was not gonna happen.

He only wanted good for Sammy, so he tried to manage this whole moving and starting over as smoothly as he could. But still, right after his little baby brother left, he fell apart. He just let himself fall apart.

He pushed the button on the dashboard of the car that turned the music on, and he soon heard "Sad but True" by Metallica. Music completely turned his mind off—it was like, for a solid five minutes, his unsolved problems went away and it was just him, the Impala, and music.

Rock music especially influenced him in every way possible.

He kept driving with a serious expression on his face, pressing his lips together. When the song ended, another one started playing, and he concentrated on the road.

This was still the first time driving to Sam's new place—even if he memorized every centimeter of the way there, he still had to pay attention not to miss anything. It wasn't like he wanted to be late meeting his brother after 14 days.

After a long, lonely ride, he finally arrived, and he parked in front of a huge house. He swiftly got out of the car so he could examine the mansion with his eyes better. The whole neighborhood seemed so normal and modern. The American fucking dream.

The front yard leading to the front door looked so typical, with green grass and some flowers that were probably planted by Sam.

The house had two floors and he could see two windows on each side of the door. These windows had to light up the whole rooms, he thought. The whole house was white and it seemed like it was painted just a few days ago—so blindingly white. He just couldn't believe his eyes, that Sam chose to live here. It was just so... usual.

The second floor had some big windows as well, and he started walking towards the front door. As he was walking, for a brief moment he thought maybe he made a mistake and this wasn't even Sam's house.

But after a few seconds all his doubts disappeared when his tall, brown-haired brother opened the door right in front of him.

He was wearing dark blue jeans and a grey T-shirt with a random band name on it that Dean didn't recognize.

As Dean stepped closer to give the usual hug to his brother, Sam took a step back with a confused look on his face. Dean's heart sank as he saw his brother's action, and the thought of never being able to hug his little sibling went through his head.

"Dean… Oh my god. " Said Sam as he leaned closer to Dean. "What the hell happened? " He asked with a worried expression.

Dean immediately recognized why his brother didn't want to hug him at first now. He felt relieved as he realized that the fresh wounds on his face were the reason why Sam seemed so worried and confused. He felt so relieved.

"Oh, it's nothing, you know, just a... hunt gone wrong. It's okay, though" he said, knowing Sam would recognize that those cuts were fresh because Sam knew about injuries; they both did, better than anyone should.

Ever since they were children, they've been hunting, and that included fighting with supernatural beings and also practicing with their father for these hunts.

"What were you trying to kill, Dean?" Sam asked as he had some hints his brother's wounds were not exactly usual.

"Uhh… a ghost… it used knives as weapons," he stated and hoped Sam would believe it and they would both leave the subject for good.

Sam suspected something different went down in that "hunt gone wrong," but his story made sense kind of, so he decided to leave it. He guessed Dean had gotten into a fight at a bar or something.

He then hugged his brother tightly, as he had been missing him, even though he knew he would never admit that to Dean. Sam had a lot of work around his house, but in the evenings when he just wanted to take off his shoes and have a drink, Dean just wasn't there, and because the whole moving thing was Sam's idea, he didn't want Dean to be right. That it would be difficult and lonely living alone.

Sam invited Dean in, and Dean started admiring the house from the inside now. The short hallway led to the kitchen, where he could smell something delicious from the oven.

As he turned around, he noticed that the kitchen wasn't isolated from the living room, and his thoughts from earlier appeared to be right. The windows he had seen from outside really did lighten up the whole inside space. He saw a huge, comfortable-looking couch and a TV across the room; next to the TV there was an empty wooden bookcase.

"Why is it empty?" Dean asked, curious to know the answer.

"I don't have anything to put there yet." Sam answered calmly.

"You could bring the books from the bunker here; I don't read anyway." Dean suggested.

"Then the bunker would seem so empty and abandoned." Said Sam, worrying about how his old home would look without the thousands of books lying there.

"It already feels like that," said Dean so quietly his brother almost didn't hear it, but he did, and this made him feel a bit guilty and sad.

"Anyways, nice living room, dude. You could show me around the other part of your house as well." Suggested Dean as they started walking towards the stairs that were opposite the front door, easily approachable from the living room as well.

They quietly climbed the stairs, and as Dean was walking, he recognized himself in a picture in a wooden frame hanging on the wall.

In the photo there was him and Sam, and they were holding onto each other's shoulders as their mouths twitched into perfect smiles.

Dean remembered exactly when this photo was taken and who it was taken by. They were preparing to go on a hunt, and not just a hunt, but the 200th hunt ever. That night he and Sam got drunk, and they went to the nearest bar. They knew the owner; she was also a hunter, and they did some hunts together. She said all their drinks were on the house, so they had to get drunk, and then they seemed so happy the owner just had to take their picture.

Dean smiled a bit as he stood there remembering that moment. Sam stood there at the top of the stairs waiting for Dean to stop looking at pictures.

There were pictures of them, them with their mother back from when they were little, and there he was. Castiel.

Sam hung a photo of the three of them together standing in front of the Impala, except Dean, they were smiling. Sam didn't know, but Castiel's smile wasn't a real one; Dean knew it was faked. And Dean knew exactly why he was faking it. But he was never going to tell Sam, never.

As they both reached the top of the stairs, Dean looked around and saw 3 doors leading to two bedrooms and a bathroom. On the right side of the stairs, there was an empty bedroom that could be basically used for anything; it could be an office, a guest room, a little place where Sam could store things, or even a child's room. Dean felt weird thinking maybe Sam would want this room for his baby one day.

On the left side there was Sam's room, he knew, because in this room there was actually furniture. A double bed in the middle along with two bedside tables with a clock and some other things on them.

Next to the bed, a wardrobe could be seen with some clothes hanging out from it. After Dean digested what he saw, Sam led him to the bathroom, which didn't seem like such a big thing: a shower, a bathtub, a sink, a toilet, and some towels took place there.

Sam seemed to care a lot about what Dean might think about his new home. But Dean knew that his opinion didn't matter. It just wouldn't make a difference.

After that, Sam suggested going down and having a drink; however, Dean had to reject the inviting offer because he had to drive home later. He took a second to silently punish himself for even thinking of accepting such an offer and when he remembered yesterday, guilt rushed iver his body.

So they just went down to the kitchen, and Sam took out the pie he was making earlier from the oven. Dean felt so appreciated by his brother's actions at that moment. He made his favorite dessert for the day when Dean would see the house for the first time. It was so Sam. So, Sammy.

Then they ate the fresh pie as they continued to joke around and chat until the sun went down and stars appeared in the beautiful clear night sky.

"It's getting late; maybe I should go." Dean suggested as he was still smiling from a funny joke earlier. The smile slowly faded away, as he realized he really had to leave. He didn't really want to go, but it really was getting late, and last night he didn't get a good sleep, as he slept on the floor.

Sam didn't say anything because he didn't really want Dean to go, but he was tired from all the working he had done that day. So he didn't say anything, and Dean stood up and stepped closer to his brother in order to give him a goodbye hug.

Dean started walking back towards the front door, and as he strolled, he viewed the nice home one last time that day. As he was opening the door for himself, they said goodbye, and soon Dean was sitting in his car looking back at the beautiful modern American house.

He had a great time after all this afternoon; however, still something was off. He kept looking out the window of the Impala as he recognized a well-known feeling: jealousy.

His Sammy got everything he ever wanted or was about to, and Dean was happy for him; he wished his little brother the best, yet he felt jealous.

While Sam was sleeping in his new bed in his new house, probably feeling excited about the next day yesterday, Dean slept on the floor by the wall of the hallway of the ridiculously big bunker.

Surrounded by a million broken pieces of glass. Surrounded by his own blood, reminding him what a failure he is. He felt jealous because he tried everything he could, and that still wasn't enough.

He suddenly started the car and put his hands on the wheel. For a moment he thought about putting on some music to distract himself from overthinking but then decided silence felt better.

The haunting silence consumed him, his thought made him feel so exhausted. He didn't have any tears left, he didn't have any words left. No words could describe how sad he was.

So he drove in silence back to the bunker, feeling a pang of jealousy and a bit of peace that his brother finally got what he deserved.

But still the sadness was louder than the peace and the jealousy together.

Chapter Text

It hurt. The cold and rough ground hurt. Castiel sat up, moving his head and trying to stretch a bit so his back wouldn't hurt this much. It hurt so much. It was so human-like.

He was human, he thought. And he was. He still couldn't believe that he really was one of the regular humans. He remembered fighting battles in the name of God and protecting Heaven.

Being an Angel. Having Wings. And compared to that, living as a human felt like being a speck of dust. He was so lost. So lost.

It had been a day and a half since he turned human, and he spent his first hours on the ground of the train station. He was lonely and scared, not knowing where his path might lead him.

He slept on the cold floor in the dirt, and he looked like a homeless person. But he didn't just look like one, he actually was a homeless man. He didn't even realize he was until that moment; he had nothing, he was nothing.

It was February, so it was cold, and his clothes were not exactly made for this cold. The beige trenchcoat and uncomfortable pants didn't protect him from the cold at all.

He slowly stood up, feeling ddrained His white shirt and loose dark black tie around his neck made him feel like he was trapped. His pants were made from soft cotton, but still they weren't comfortable enough for him. He just wanted to get free from this whole thing.

As he looked around, he saw a gigantic clock showing that it was 7.32 in the morning, and yet the station was busy. People running around ingnoring him. Castiel noticed so many people passing by and running in order to catch the train.

As a new train arrived, he saw the new passengers trying to get on the vehicle. They pushed eachother in order to get on the train faster. Cas didn't quite understand why would people fight over seats. The train would take them anyway.

Suddenly he thought he should go. He didn't know where he was, but he knew this place wasn't where he should be. He didn't want to just stand thee and look stupid.

So he got up and started to run so he could get on the train before it left. He bumoed into a few people but he continued his way.

He suddenly slowed down his steps and then stopped completely. Looking back at the part of the station where he had been sleeping last night he felt nostalgic and he hsd no idea why.

He checked if he had left anything personal there that he might need in the future, but soon he came to the realization that he didn't really have anything, so he left the thought behind and started sprinting towards the train.

He managed to step on the train just before its doors closed, and he took a deep breath, feeling tired again. He was feeling exhausted again; he knew he would get tired of the feeling of tiredness in a very short time.

Back in the day, when he was a noble angel, he didn't have to pay attention to these kinds of things.

He slowly looked around the train, his eyes scanning the place. He started walking on the train, trying to find an empty seat so he could sit and relax for even just a few minutes. As he was putting one leg after another, taking steps slowly, he was afraid he would fall over due to the fact that the train had already begun to travel towards its destination.

He felt eyes on him, people looking at him, maybe thinking how pathetic he was. Maybe feeling sorry for him, he didn't know.

He saw men, women, and children all staring at him, and it made him feel so embarrassed and guilty. He felt guilty for taking the train looking this dirty. He was embarassed and he jsut wanted to disappear.

Children looked at him with an honest, disgusted expression, and Castiel wanted the Earth to swallow him. He wanted to be gone for good and never come back; he felt so awkward and ridiculous.

He then noticed an empty seat right next to a teenage girl. He didn't want to bother the girl, so he stayed in the same position for a while, not holding onto anything, but as the train braked when it reached the first stop, he felt the ground slip out from under his feet. He fell.

As he fell, he hit his head a bit, and it hurt, but he tried not to show his pain, and so he stood up again and took the seat next to the young girl. The girl didn't really care that someone sat next to her; she was living in her own world.

He could go anywhere he wanted to, just not the place he called his home. He missed heaven, and even if it had only been a day, he missed being there more than anything. And he felt like dying when he remembered he would never be able to see his favorite place ever again.

Castiel stared out the window, admiring how mesmerizing the view was. He felt like he could fall asleep at any minute as he continued looking out the window, watching villages and hills pass by.

He then slowly closed his eyes. He tried so hard not to, though he didn't succeed in staying awake. He was immersed in a dream; he finally wasn't lost in this world of humans and their cruel minds.

He was lost in a dream, where he was out on a little hunting trip with Sam and Dean. Dean. In his dream they got on well, and they made jokes and had fun hunting monsters. However, even in his deep dream, he knew that could never be reality. He was happy; he saw himself living in his mind, and it was peaceful.

His dream was cut off by a harsh deep voice. He was suddenly pulled back to the painful reality as he took a sharp breath.

"Sir?" Castiel opened his eyes swiftly and sat up, feeling a bit lost in the situation. He saw an old man in a suit that looked like some type of uniform standing in front of him. Then he realized this man was talking to him.

For a short moment he thought maybe he was trying to help him or maybe the train reached its final destination.

"What?" Castiel asked, still confused.

"Tickets, please!" the officer demanded, and Castiel didn't get what he said. He had no idea what he was talking about; he had never used a train before.

"I… I don't have any tickets." Cas said, feeling guilty, he was afraid he could be in trouble.

"Oh, I see how it is, Mr.," the man in the uniform said, and he started writing something on a small piece of paper. Castiel was curious to know.

"Name and address, please. I need your data so I can send you your fine later." The man told Castiel, and Cas already knew this meant no good for him.

"I, uh, I am Castiel. And I do not have an address," he said while looking at the man trying to convince him to leave him alone with his eyes, but it didn't seem to work, so he just looked down at his hands, playing with the end of his dirty tie.

"Castiel, huh?" The officer said and started laughing, which made Castiel feel ridiculous. He felt like he deserved to be laughed at. He didn't understand completely what was funny about the situation, though.

"Yes, my name is Castiel," he said quietly again.

"And how come you don't have an address?" He asked, taking a deep breath, and Castiel could sense the anger building up in the man.

"I don't have a home." Castiel said, and he felt his heart skip a beat because of how painful it was for him to say this.

The man then leaned closer to him and asked him to leave the train with him. Castiel stood up, and a few minutes later the train stopped, and he stepped off of the train along with the man.

"What should I do now?" Castiel asked, and the men replied with a simple "You have to pay now."

"With what?" Cas tried to get the answer to his question, and he was so ignorant. Poor Castiel, he had no idea how the world worked, and he didn't have a teacher. He had to learn it the hard way, a little bit harder than most people.

"Money, you homeless piece of shit," the officer answered, and Castiel saw his anger and frustration appearing in his eyes. He could feel how much this man standing in front of him suffers even if he tries to not show it. He's human; he has problems, and Castiel knew he suffered, so he tried to make this man's life easier, even when he didn't have any money to pay with.

"I don't have money," Castiel replied with an honest answer, feeling a bit guilty. He looked around and noticed that the two of them were the only ones standing at the small station.

The place looked shabby, and he saw two benches in the corner, but both of them looked like they could collapse at any minute. He looked back at the man only to see how angry and frustrated the officer was.

Castiel saw the inspector's eyes and realized he wasn't going to get away with it so easily. The officer's jaw clenched, and suddenly Castiel felt the man's fist hit his face. Pain rushed ove rhis body as he lifted his hand to touch his face.

He didn't expect that, and due to the fact that he had severe back pain and hadn't had a good sleep, he was exhausted. He took an uneven step back and then fell to the floor. He was on the floor again, he thought. Is this how humans have to live?

Then when he looked up, he saw the man in the uniform taking a deep breath, and soon Castiel felt the man's foot kick him in the stomach. Now that hurt him.

Castiel felt blood running from his nose and from his mouth, and he curled up, holding onto his stomach. His breathing was heavy and he didn't blink once, he stared at the ground with his eyes wide open.

He heard the steps of the ticket inspector fading away as the cruel man left Castiel by himself. Cas felt relieved as soon as he was surrounded by the sweet sound of silence again, meaning the man left.

He was lying in the same position for about ten minutes when the pain started to fade away a bit. He touched his nose, and he saw the red blood on his fingers. He wiped the blood on his coat and stood up slowly and staggered as he tried to walk.

He had never felt this embarrassed in his life, and he has been alive for a long time now. For a slight moment it occurred to him that if this was the point of his life, maybe he should just give up and leave.

Then he slowly started walking towards the city where the train had dropped him off. A new train was coming, and the station started to get busy. He was surrounded by people staring at him, some even laughing at the misfortune of his life.

He felt so useless and lost. He didn't even know where he was, but for him it didn't really matter either. He could be anywhere; it wouldn't matter. Because he didn't matter. Or at least he thought he didn't.

He looked up and saw a huge white sign saying Garden City. He didn't know where Garden City was, but he saw a city, more like a town, with ideal neighborhoods and some factories by their side.

"Excuse me," Castiel said to a woman with shiny blonde hair and glasses walking by him. She seemed like a nice lady to Cas.

"What? I'm going to be late," the woman replied in a condescending tone. She didn't seem like a nice lady anymore.

"Could you please tell me where I am exactly, Miss?" He asked, hoping this time he would finally get a decent answer.

"Kansas, Garden City." She said as she hurried away. She didn't wait for an answer; she just ran off and left Castiel. But at least now he knew where he was. Kansas. Garden City.

Chapter Text

The smell of fresh coffee made Dean stop thinking, and even if just for a slight moment, he forgot how much he hated himself. He was standing in the kitchen of the bunker, his right hand holding a cup of coffee. He had just made the morning drink for himself right after he woke up. He didn't really like coffee; he just wanted to feel like he had a routine. Like it was a normal day and he was a normal man. So he took the cup and sat down on the chair near the kitchen table. He stared down at his hot drink and closed his eyes. It suddenly hit him, right out of the blue, Castiel's expression when he first tasted coffee. Castiel said he thinks it tastes like fuel, and Dean couldn't help but laugh.

Dean let out a loud sigh, and Castiel filled his thoughts. Guilt floated into his mind, and he tried to push his guilt aside, not successfully. Cas' eyes popped up in front of him, and a sudden calmness rushed over his body. But it only lasted for a brief moment before he felt the weight of his sins again.

[Flashback begins]

Sam was sitting in the living room of the bunker; he was reading a book about wendigos. The piece of literature was written by one of the original members of The Man of Letters. He found it fascinating, and he was deeply interested. Dean and Cas went out on a hunt; they were trying to kill a ghost they heard about in the news a few days ago. They were headed to Iowa, and Dean called hours ago that the mission was successfully completed and they were on their way back home. Since the hunt was an easier one, Sam decided to stay home and immerse himself in his book. Cas had to practice, and Dean could handle anything, so he thought they would be good.

Sam didn't know when it had started to rain, but he heard the loud rain pounding on the roof, and he felt even more comfortable and peaceful in that moment. He then heard a car stopping, and he knew his family had arrived. He closed his book, waiting for the two hunters to come inside the bunker.

He heard loud shouting as the door opened, and he saw his brother step inside, soaking wet and covered in blood from his forehead to his knees. Dean seemed angry and annoyed, and Sam was eager to know what went wrong. Because something had to go wrong that got Dean looking like a mess after such an easy hunt. A moment later he noticed Cas entering the room, and he saw his face, and Sam knew Cas did something he wasn't supposed to. Cas' expression was confused, and he could see how guilty he felt even from the other side of the room.

Sam stood up to greet the two men and said, "Hey guys, how did it go?"

"What do you think?" Dean replied bitterly. He stood in front of his brother with Dean standing by his side in his typical trench coat and blue tie. "This idiot right here almost got me killed."

Castiel wanted to say something, but Dean continued. Sam felt like a parent listening to children pointing at each other. Only this was just slightly more serious than that.

"The ghost we were trying to catch was coming at me from behind with a huge-ass sword, and Cas saw it coming. This motherfucker was facing me and saw it coming. And didn't say shit," Dean yelled angrily, his voice cracking while he was looking at Castiel and turning his head back towards his brother by the end of the sentence. Dean felt truly and beyond betrayed by his friend. He thought Castiel was stupid, and he didn't understand why he didn't say something. Dean could have died or at least gotten seriously injured. Castiel was playing with his life even if he didn't know it.

Castiel tried to defend himself, but Sam cut him off this time.

"Dean, I'm pretty sure Cas didn't intend to get you almost killed." Sam said, trying to comfort Dean, but he was adamant.

"If that girl didn't jump in front of the ghost, I would have been dead by now, Castiel. Do you even understand that?" Dean asked, facing Cas, trying to find an honest answer in his eyes. "That girl died because of you," he then finally said, making Castiel flinch a little. Cas knew that, but hearing it from someone so important made him feel unworthy of anything.

"Look, I know you're an angel and don't understand what it means to be a human, but that's not an excuse." Dean said, and Cas saw the fire in Dean's eyes; he was furious.

Of course Cas knew what his mistake meant; he knew that the girl's blood was on his hands, and he knew Dean would react like this. What he didn't know is why he didn't say anything. He just completely froze and was unable to move or say anything.

It wasn't like he wanted Dean to die; never in a million years could he wish that. Never.

"I am sorry, Dean. I don't know why I—" Cas started to explain himself, but he was. cut off by Dean once again.

"No, stop. I can't listen to you; I can't stand you right now. Please just—" he started and then took a sharp breath in and turned around to leave. Dean found the way to his peaceful room and went to his bathroom immediately. He then closed the door and collapsed on the floor. He grabbed the toilet seat with both of his hands and vomited. A sudden rush of guilt rushed over Dean, and he regretted everything he said to Cas just before he left. Cas obviously had no idea what he was doing; after all, it really was his first real hunt. He was just like a child trying to learn, and Dean failed him. He really failed him.

He stood up and looked in the mirror, hating what he saw there. He was angry because he almost died because of a stupid mistake. He just stood there staring at himself, and he realized he wasn't mad because he almost died; he was angry because he didn't.

He walked out of the bathroom and sat down on his bed while looking down and playing with his big hands. He hated this. He hated that he felt like he was right for yelling at Cas, and now he was guilty. He hated himself and how he couldn't save that girl. A girl died instead of him; he should be lying there lifeless, not that innocent young lady.

Dean knew it. He knew that the ghost was behind him, but he accepted his fate. He thought he would die of a heroic act looking in those ocean blue eyes. But plans always get ruined, his plans especially.

He was sitting on his bed as a tear shed from his eye, then he heard a knock on the door.

"Dean... " he heard the well-known voice coming from a well-known person. Castiel stood on the other side of the door, ready to apologize a thousand times if that's what Dean wants. He knew it was his fault, and he was ready to take responsibility for his actions, even if it meant it would eventually destroy him.

"I'm tired, Cas, go away," he said; however, he didn't actually want Cas to leave. He heard some footsteps fade, and he was left alone. For him, time alone never meant peace. It meant being left alone with his haunting past.

Dean didn't lie when he said he was tired; he really was exhausted. Not only because of the hunt, but he felt overall tired of life. He took his blood-covered clothes off, stepped under the hot shower, and turned the water from comfortably warm to painfully cold. He stood there feeling empty as he finished washing away all the blood from his body. The blood of an innocent civil, he thought. A girl who died for his sins without even knowing. He felt sick.

When he finally put his head back on that damn pillow, he was just glad it was over. Another thing he could put on his calendar. He fell asleep thinking he was so close today, so, so close.

He didn't dream, and he felt like it was a little reward for such a bad day. He would always dream. Dean had nightmares all the damn time, but great dreams were even more painful and awful in reality. Because they reminded him of the things he could never have, so instead his nightmares haunted his nights with all the decisions he had made in the past. Nightmares were most of the time just memories he would want to forget, but for some reason he couldn't get rid of them.

…

Castiel, on the other hand, didn't sleep. He was an angel, so he couldn't possibly be physically tired like that; however, mentally he was exhausted. A soldier fighting on the other side by accident. He was lying in a bed in a room in the bunker, but nothing felt like it was his own. Not the bed, not the room, not his life. He didn't understand; he just didn't. How could he not see it coming? He replayed the actions of the hunt in his head over and over and over again, trying to figure out what he did wrong. He saw it; he remembered seeing it and not saying anything, and it drove him crazy. Dean was fully right here, he thought. Cas killed a girl who was supposed to live. He killed a girl, and he couldn't let it go.

An angel, he thought, was supposed to help and protect, not destroy.

He couldn't sleep or close his eyes or turn it off. He was just lying completely lost. He didn't know if Dean would ever forgive him or even talk to him again. He sat up to take off his coat, and he unbuttoned his shirt a bit. It was like he was running in circles. Remember. Replay. Regret. And again and again until he saw rays of sun peeking in the window. He sat up, obviously feeling guilt-ridden, and decided to make coffee, even though he knew Dean was not a big fan of coffee. Castiel thought it might be a good idea to start making up for his huge mistake.

So he found his way to the kitchen, and just as he arrived, he realized he had no idea at all how to make coffee. He looked around, and his eyes landed on the clock he was looking for. It was only 5:20 in the morning, so he was sure Sam would still be asleep. He had no help; he was by himself. He had to find his way, or else nothing would change. He started looking for something that would give him some ideas on how to start, trying to stay as quiet as he could. He wouldn't want to wake them up. If he did, Sam would be fine with it, but waking up Dean is a different thing, and he wouldn't want to risk that.

He kept looking, and he suddenly found a box saying coffee pot. He opened it and found a brief description of how to make the drink. He followed the steps, filling the bottom chamber with water firstly, then adding ground coffee to the filter basket. He found it a bit confusing, but he continued. He then assembled the moka pot and placed it on the stove for a few minutes. It didn't say anything else in the instructions, so he didn't really know what to do next. When he heard a bubbling sound coming from the pot, he took it off of the stove. He smelled it, and to be frank, he did not like the smell of it at all; he thought it definitely smelled wrong. However, he placed the fresh coffee on the table. It was now 6.34, so he assumed they would wake up soon.

He started looking for two cups for the boys. When he found two, he smiled a bit and took them out of the cabinet, but one of them accidentally slipped from his hands, and it fell in the sink. The cup shattered and made a loud sound as the glass broke. He squinted his eyes and hoped the voice didn't wake up any of the Winchesters. He was not lucky today; he heard footsteps coming fast, and he then found himself facing Dean. Dean looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes, as he kept a worried expression on his face.

"I'm so sorry, I broke your cup," Castiel said, feeling like he was a burden and he caused another mistake.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked as his worried expression softened and turned into a more curious one. Of course, he didn't forget about the mistakes of the day before; however, he didn't really blame Castiel anymore.

"Uhh, I made you coffee." Castiel answered, showing a bit of embarrassment.

"I don't like coffee." Dean replied in a harsh voice, but he didn't intend to sound so mean and arrogant.

"I know," Cas said as his fingers gripped the mug tighter and he looked down for a slight moment.

Dean reached out and took the mug out of Castiel's hands; he then walked over to the cabinet and took out another mug for Cas. He sat down to the table and placed a mug in front of himself and one in front of the chair opposite to him.

"Aren't you going to have a seat?" Dean asked as he looked up with his deep green eyes, trying to understand Cas. The angel took the seat in front of Dean, and they faced each other. Dean reached out to pour a cup of coffee for Cas first and then for himself.

"I've never had coffee before." Cas stated, and Dean shook his head.

"Well, you're not missing out on too much, buddy. But give it a try," he said. "You never know."

Castiel lifted the cup to his mouth and took a sip of the freshly made coffee. When he felt the bitter flavor of the drink, a disgusted expression appeared on his face. Castiel then heard Dean laughing. Something he hadn't heard in a while. He looked up and looked into Dean's forest green eyes as he smiled.

"Tastes like fuel," Cas stated as he quickly put down the cup.

Dean was thrilled. Seeing Cas trying out the drink made him genuinely laugh. And a second later he took a sip of the hot coffee himself as well. He immediately understood the earlier expression on Cas' face as he struggled to swallow the drink. It was the most awful coffee he had ever tasted, and he didn't really like coffee after all.

"Good job, Cas. This tastes great, thanks for your... effort." He thanked his friend for forgiving him for any harm he had ever done. He completely forgave Cas for almost killing him. But still somehow Dean couldn't let go of the thought that he was so close to the end, and instead of him finally gaining his well-deserved freedom, a girl lost hers.*

[Flashback ends]

*Dean felt so empty looking back at the fresh cup of coffee sitting in front of him. Memories made him feel nostalgic and even more guilty. He knew what he said to Cas about that hunt was mean and wasn't right, and he knew Cas probably took his words to heart, believing every reproach he had said before.

He was lonely and jealous of his brother for getting everything he wanted and leaving him all alone. He missed Sam, and he realized he missed Castiel too. He tried not to think too much of it, though. After the fall of angels, Castiel could be anywhere, and honestly, Dean was okay with that. He didn't think Castiel would want to find him; why would he want that? Dean was mean and aggressive, and he believed he was an abuser, and even if he missed Cas, it would be better off for Cas if their ways continued to be separated.

He stood up and left the damn coffee, as he had had enough of everything lately. He heard his ringtone from the other room, so he hurried to answer it. When he saw his brother's name on the screen, he immediately picked it up with a sudden worried look on his face.

"Sam!?" he asked; his first thought was that his brother got in trouble or he was hurt. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, uhh, yeah." Sam replied in a confused tone. "Why wouldn't everything be okay?"

"Uhm, I don't know, I just… We haven't talked in a few days, and I thought that's why you were calling me for." Dean replied.

"Oh…" Sam felt a bit guilty for forgetting about his big brother for days. He had so many things to do around the new house, but he felt like he betrayed Dean a bit. "I was calling because I was wondering if your offer is still relevant."

"Which offer?" Dean seriously didn't know what Sam meant. Dean offered Sam so many things.

"About the books from the bunker. My shelf really looks empty. I could use the books, if you don't mind".

"No." Dean stopped for a moment as he adjusted to the fact in himself that his brother was okay. "No, of course I don't mind. You can take anything."

"Great! I'll be there in an hour," Sam stated as he ended the phone call, not even waiting for Dean to agree or say goodbye. Dean honestly would have wanted to chat with him or at least ask him how he has been lately. But Sam ended the call so suddenly.

Dean went to his room to get dressed, and he found himself being excited for his brother's visit. He hadn't really talked to anyone in the last five days, so he felt like he could use some company. He got dressed quickly and went back to the living room, waiting patiently for his brother. He expected him to arrive in about 30 minutes.

Chapter Text

As expected, Sam stepped through the front door of the bunker just when Dean thought he would. Sam was wearing his usual outfit, and Dean noticed that his hair had gotten a bit longer than last time. Sam looked around, noticing Dean sitting by the table immediately. Dean had a mug in his hands, and Sam could smell the freshly made coffee.

"Hey, man," Sam smiled at Dean, happy to see his brother.

"Hey, buddy. I've missed you." Dean said as he stayed still in his chair, lifting the cup to his mouth and taking a sip of the drink. He really did miss him. In the last couple of days, he felt lonely. Silence was quite loud, and nobody was there to break it.

"Same here. So, uh, about the books. Sam started.

"Yeah, you can take anything you want." Dean replied in an honest tone.

"No, no, I..." "I just need the books," he said.

"Aren't you worried what your new friend will think when they see your books about mythical and supernatural creatures?" Dean asked, and he really was curious. He didn't ask this to make Sam feel guilty for having new friends; however, without any intention, without noticing, he did. Sam's heart skipped a beat, and it felt like he just put a knife through his heart. This question reminded Sam of why he left and what he left behind. He left his family to start a new one. He left his brother to be free. At first Sam didn't consider him starting over equal to leaving Dean, but after some time he really came to the realization that leaving to start over had the word "leaving" in it.

"Uhh, the ones I've made so far know that I'm into mythology, so I don't think that would cause problems." Sam answered Dean's honest question.

"Oh, okay." Dean said he seemed okay with it, but in reality he wasn't. He felt so bitter after hearing Sam really made friends. New friends Dean didn't know.

"So what have you been up to lately?" Sam asked, eager to know.

"Well, I was home for the last few days, but I decided to look for some work to do. I kind of miss the adrenaline. Dean stated, forming plans inside his head about his next trip.

"Alone?!" Sam asked with a serious and worried expression on his face. He didn't want his brother to get in trouble or be in danger.

"Who with? " Dean asked, looking in Sam's eyes, and his brother could capture the hurt in Dean's green eyes.

Sam didn't know how to reply to that, so instead he just nodded slowly, and he walked over to the huge bookshelf. He examined the old wood and the several antique books on the shelves as his fingers touched the dust on the edge of one of the shelves. These books haven't been touched ever since he left this place. He was worried how empty the bookshelf would look without any books, but since Dean was okay with it, he tried to let go of the thought.

"I don't think all the books will fit in your car; you should probably take the first half and come back later or tomorrow for the other part." Dean suggested.

"Right. Tomorrow I can't, but I'll come back for it three days from now if that's fine with you.

"Sure," Dean answered as he stood up and stood next to Sam, starting to take out a few books and putting them on the table. "What are your plans for tomorrow?" he then asked.

"Actually, I have a date." Sam said, and he sounded a little bit nervous about it. Dean couldn't decide whether Sam was nervous about telling Dean about the date or the actual date. However, since his little brother has always been the nervous, gentlemanly kind of guy, Dean didn't think too much of it.

"Who's the unlucky girl?" Dean joked.

"Her name is Iris, and we only met a few days ago. I went out to get some equipment for the work around the house, and there she was. Sam started, and he seemed so excited. "She was so kind and generous; I like her."

Dean smiled; a true smile appeared on his face as he was excited for his brother as well. He could see Sam's future bright and clear. His own future on the other side seemed completely unknown for Dean. He couldn't even think about what he would be up to next week, not the far future. Whenever he thought about it, he saw nothing. Something deep inside him was empty, and he didn't think there would be anything that could fill the space.

"I'm glad." Dean said, and they continued putting the books in paper boxes.

Hours passed, and they had fun. They spent the whole afternoon cleaning the bookshelves and talking and joking. Halfway through the cleaning, Dean opened a beer for himself. He offered one to Sam too, but his brother didn't accept his offer due to the fact he would be driving later that night. Dean obviously offered a room in the bunker, and when Sam denied it, Dean knew nothing would ever be the same. Being a bit tipsy, Dean was hurt over Sam's words, but he didn't show his pain. He took a moment to remember how the both of them would go on hunts, fight demons and monsters, miss their parents, and get drunk together. Now, Sam didn't do any of those things, and Dean was left alone for these. Dean missed hunts and fighting and longed for his parents alone.

He missed his parents. Mostly his mother. In Dean's eyes she was an angel sent from heaven taken too early. He didn't remember too much from her, though. But he could recall the way his mother tucked him in his bed on evenings and how she used to tell Dean angels were watching over him.

Dean could never forget his father either, but because of different reasons. He missed him sometimes, but those days were rare, and the feeling wouldn't last too long either. His memories about his father were mostly full of violence and blood. John, his dad, taught Dean how to be a soldier, and while teaching him, John forgot to be his father. His teaching methods were painful and unbearably cruel. Dean did everything he could to protect Sam, but he couldn't defend him always. Still, Dean had it way worse than his brother.

Sometimes when he was lying on his bed because he couldn't fall asleep, he felt like he was still 17. At the time, they moved towns a lot, and he didn't have his well-deserved free time. He didn't have hobbies or friends; he had knowledge. He knew how to use guns and bows, but he didn't know how to love. His father never taught him that. Dean kept his brother safe, and that kept him alive. He had tried to end it all so many times, he couldn't even count it. He was weak, though; he was a coward because he didn't dare leave his brother with a man so cruel.

John wasn't always a bad father, though. Dean loved him before he hated him. Dean would still, even to this day, slightly remember how much John used to play with Dean when he was little. He recalled how John took him to kindergarten and the playground. It felt unreal, like it didn't happen. Compared to Dean's childhood before losing his mother, after that everything went downhill. And it still felt like it was continuing to go when he was cleaning shelves with his missed brother.

As they finished their work, they packed the boxes in Sam's car, and soon they said goodbye. After Sam left, Dean kept drinking, and by midnight he was blackout drunk. Dean knew this would happen after Sam left, and because of that, he desperately wanted Sam to stay, but he didn't. Dean knew he had a problem; he just didn't care.

He fell asleep on the floor later that night.

𓆩✡︎𓆪

The next morning when Dean woke up, he didn't remember a single thing from what happened after Sam left. He found himself lying on the cold floor, and he couldn't figure out how he got there. He assumed he couldn't reach his bed last night because he was so drunk. He slowly sat up and looked around in the bunker only to see nothing had changed. He felt the well-known taste on his lips remaining from the alcohol he had drunk hours ago.

Dean's drinking problem has been present ever since he was 19. He drank before that too; however, it wasn't a problem. After some time, for Dean, alcohol was the only thing that calmed him down. Alcohol was something he found comfort in. And he wasn't interested in solving such a problem. If he dies of it, then so be it, he thought.

Chapter Text

Castiel woke up in the middle of the night, feeling something wet on his skin. He slowly opened his eyes, trying to understand what's happening around him as quickly as possible. He then sat up and stretched a bit. The cold sidewalk felt unbearable, and sleeping on it was cruel. It was his 6th day in Garden City, and since it was February, his clothes weren't the appropriate way to dress. He was cold; he was freezing, but he didn't have a place to go to.

The second day after he had been kicked out of the train, he remembered that the Winchesters bunker was in Kansas as well. He even thought about going there to get help or really just to see Dean, but since he thought Dean didn't really want to see him, he decided to stay independent. If he was being honest, he had to admit to himself he missed Dean. He missed Dean just as much as he missed being an angel, if not more. But after that girl died on that mission because of Cas... Castiel felt like his mistake was unforgivable. Even with all the efforts he made to erase his mistake, he felt like his actions were not justified and they could never be. He felt like Dean could never forgive him, even if he'd ever say so. So he forgot the idea of finding Dean and stuck to being alone and homeless for a while. Castiel didn't really have plans; he had no clue what he was going to do now. He had spent his days as a human walking and trying to find food, clothes, someone, and hope.

A wet drop of rain landed on his face, just under his right eye, as he looked up. The rain started to pour slowly and gently at first, but as soon as Cas stood up, it was raining heavily. He quickly looked around, trying to find a place where he could go to escape the rain. Unfortunately, he didn't see anything that could protect him from the cold rain, so he started running. He ran on the street as fast as he could as he got more and more tired with each step.

He was now completely soaked, his hair stuck on his forehead. He looked around once again and noticed a building that looked like a church. He suddenly was so faithful; he started sprinting towards the church, and as he reached it, he opened the door and quickly got inside. He collapsed on the floor because he was extremely exhausted. He was soaked, cold, and tired.

Inside it was dark; only one candle was burning right in front of a painting of God. He slowly started walking towards the candle, examining the place. He admired the few paintings that were there as he reached the main one. The painting was mesmerizing; probably it wasn't worth much or it was a copy, otherwise they wouldn't have left the church open. In the painting there was God in a beautiful long robe, and he was portrayed as a savior. Humans believed in him, even when he wasn't around. He left humanity, but people will never know, Cas thought. He wasn't going to save anyone.

Castiel suddenly kneeled down and did something he never thought he would ever do. He then closed his eyes and concentrated. The silence of the church melted away as Dean's harsh voice from that terrible night replaced it.

[Flashback begins]

"She trusted you, Cas! And now she is dead, you hear me?! She is dead." Dean shouted at Cas. They were standing by the highway right next to the Impala. "She trusted you, Cas! I trusted you!" Dean's voice cracked as he finished the sentence.

"I know, Dean. Don't you think it keeps me up at night? It's always in my head! The frightened look on the girl's face won't leave me alone... I'll never forget it, no matter how much I want to." Cas replied, and he also raised his voice.

Cars raced by the highway in the mesmerizing summer night. Dean and Cas were standing in front of the Impala now as they were arguing. They were driving home from simple shopping, and Dean couldn't hold it in. He saw a woman with the same hair as the girl who died, and he lost it.

In reality, Dean felt so miserable and guilty that he just had to blame someone. And Cas was there; he was the perfect person to blame. Dean hated himself for doing this to Cas, but his self-hate was so huge that he just had to vent his anger.

"I didn't mean to murder her…" Cas explained, but he knew that he didn't have excuses; he was guilty. "I know it's my fault; you don't have to remind me all the time." Cas screamed, pouring out his heart. He stepped closer to Dean and grabbed him out of anger by his arms. Dean was shocked by the sudden movement and didn't have time to react. He just stood there frozen, feeling terrible for upsetting Cas this much.

"I know it's my fault." Castiel began to say, really loud, and pure anger and guilt could be seen on his face. His hair was messy, and he looked tired. "I know that I'm responsible for that woman, and I will spend my whole life making up for this huge blunder that I've made," he stressed the words "whole" and "life," and he really did mean his words.

Cas let go of Dean and turned around. Dean just stayed still for a few minutes, thinking the fact that Castiel blames himself is Dean's fault again. Because every road leads to Rome and every mistake is Dean's fault.

[Flashback ends]

And there he was once again, on his knees doing something so unbelievable.

He never prayed before; he didn't need to. He was an angel, and praying wasn't necessary. Some people prayed to him before; they prayed for an angel to help them. And now he was on his knees with closed eyes in the dark room with only one candle burning. He opened his lips and started saying his prayer quietly.

"Dear God, I'm well aware that you will probably never get my message, but I just want to understand. Please answer my question about whyyou left. Was it not good enough for you? Was this world not enough?" Castiel sighed and continued.

"Tell me what I should do, what I should believe. I pray for peace, and I pray for Dean to forgive me for being responsible for that girl's death. I pray for Sam's and Dean's health, and I pray we meet again. Please answer me, because I'm faithful, yet I'm so hopeless. ... Amen."

With that, Cas finished his first-ever prayer, and he opened his ocean-blue eyes. For some reason he expected something to change, and when his surroundings remained the same, he felt a bit disappointed. He felt let down.

He suddenly felt embarrassed from being on his knees, worried that someone up in heaven would be laughing at him. He was worried that his brothers and sister, who are maybe still up there, would find Castiel's praying ridiculous. Someone who deserves to be laughed at.

He swiftly got up from the cold wooden floor and looked around once again. He looked down and thought that he really was pathetic for praying. God didn't listen to a word he said when he was an angel, and now that he was human…

He was alone, and since nothing was stopping him, he lay down on one of the pews. He put his soaked body down on the hard wooden pew and let himself rest. He closed his eyes, and he quickly fell asleep. His sleep was the best one so far ever since he turned human. He didn't dream tough. Ever since he was human, he had 2 dreams overall. For him this was a new experience, because angels didn't dream. Angels didn't sleep. They didn't rest. Castiel hated being a human because he felt so vulnerable and weak, but dreams were something he liked. The two dreams he had were something euphoric-feeling. Dreams took him to a universe where he was happy. In his dreams, he wasn't a human suffering; he was just purely happy.

But then he woke up to the sound of doors opening. He quickly sobered up and pulled himself to a sitting position as he scanned the small church around him. He noticed a priest walking in and stopping when he noticed Castiel. The man was dressed in the regular priest uniform, and he was about 50 years old. His hair was starting to get gray, and wrinkles started appearing under his eyes. Castiel could also notice his smile lines even sitting about 4 meters away from him. Castiel stood up, but he remained quiet; he didn't know what to say.

The priest looked at Cas, but Cas didn't see any judgment in his eyes. The priest seemed like he knew what Cas was going through, and he knew how to deal with it. The older man turned his head to the center of the church, to the painting, and walked there. When he reached the candles, he began to light up the candles in order.

"What is your name?" The priest suddenly asked, but not in an accusatory tone. He seemed genuinely curious to know. When Cas opened his lips to answer, the parson turned to look at him.

"Castiel," he then replied, and he just started to feel how cold it really was.

"Well, I am Father John Martin; I'm the parson of this church." Father John said as he walked closer to Castiel. Cas felt a bit nervous and anxious because he had no idea what the man wanted. The memory of the ticket inspector beating him up popped up in his head as he took a step back.

The man raised his eyebrows and stopped, noticing that Castiel clearly didn't like him walking towards him, so Father John stopped.

"What happened to you, Castiel?" He asked, noticing the red mark on his face that the ticket inspector left earlier that week. But Father John Martin didn't just mean the bruise; he really was eager to know what happened to Cas. He saw it in him. That look in his eyes told Father John that Castiel carried something heavy with him all the time. He knew it; he knew something broke him, and he felt that his lonely soul was desperate to be part of something. To be with someone.

"I fell," Castiel replied, pouring his heart out. He did fall; maybe Castiel just wanted to use it as an excuse to keep the thing with the ticket inspector hidden from the priest. However, he fell from heaven, and he turned human. He fell in every sense.

"I see." The parson said, and he sat down on the pew. "Do you believe?"

Castiel for a moment didn't understand what he meant, but then he knew the priest meant God. They were in a church, after all.

"I do." Castiel replied, but he didn't really know if he believed in God anymore. He knew he existed, but he didn't really have faith that he would come back to help humans.

"The exhausted look on your face tells me God has put you through many things, but you're here. You survived, Castiel." He said as Castiel sat down on the pew next to Father John Martin. "What is your goal? What are you trying to achieve?"

The question surprised Castiel, and he was stunned to speak. What was his goal? He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it and looked down at his hands. He wanted peace, to be an angel, but he knew that wasn't possible. What was he even trying to achieve? He knew he missed Dean; he was alone and had no one. But he didn't know if Dean wanted to see him, and what would his goal really be worth if in the end he wouldn't be successful? Finding Dean just for him to send Castiel away sounded like hell to Cas. He wanted to live, to find something to live for. He just wanted peace, a bit of sleep, and something that is stable.

"I want peace." He said, and he thought about saying freedom, but in reality he was free; he just couldn't do anything with that. "I want to rise above it and find something that keeps me going. I miss someone, but he doesn't miss me." He finally said, as his voice cracked, saying the last words. Castiel wanted his wings back but he obviously didn't say anything about that to the man. He wanted his grace and his wings. He missed being and angel so painfully.

"What you feel is so human and profound. Maybe you feel pain now, but don't forget that the love you give won't get lost; it'll find its way back to you." The priest said as he looked Cas in the eye, he smiled at him, and Cas noticed his smile lines and wrinkles once again.

"I pray for you, and I pray that peace may settle where the emptiness lives now." The parson added as he stood up and walked back to his candles.

"I hope your prayers will be heard, Father John." With these words, Castiel stood up in order to leave the church behind, but he heard the man's voice again.

"You can lay your head down in my church each night as long as you have faith." He offered, and Castiel's heart skipped a beat. He just experienced the first act of kindness ever since he was a human. He only knew cruelty and pain, but those words hinted that maybe humanity is not so bad after all.

"I came in because the door was open, and you have to know I am beyond grateful for your offer. I don't have a home, so I would like to accept your kindness, Father John." Cas said, and he really was grateful; he was just so grateful.

"I left the door open for people like you. If a lost soul seeks peace in a church, he can't be all bad."

And with that, Castiel stepped out the door, feeling like it was a fresh start. He made some plans for his future in his head as he started walking on the street. His new goals included getting a job to earn money and to later be able to thank the parson for his goodwill attitude.

He didn't know how he was going to achieve that, but he felt relieved that he now had a place where he could sleep and rest. A place that offers safety and a bit of peace. A temporary home, where the rain would soak him and the cold wouldn't turn his face red. Where the cold and hard asphalt wouldn't be his pillow and stars wouldn't be his blanket.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

The sound of the rain pounding on the windows and the dull talking coming from the television blended together easily. Dean was lying on his bed, in his room, with beer in his hand. He didn't plan to get drunk, but the silence was tearing him apart, and beer made it a bit easier. His empty hand was resting on his stomach; he was lying there comfortably. He was looking at the television, but he wasn't focused on it.

Some boring horror movie was playing, and Dean didn't care at all. The last time horror movies scared him was when he was only 7 years old. He loved spending his time watching horror films; he was a bit of a nerd.

But the film that was on at the moment didn't catch his attention at all. Dean found it boring and predictable. So he was just listening to the sound while he was immersed in his thoughts.

The comforting sound of the rain made Dean feel so cozy and peaceful. However, after a time, the rain started to be heavier and louder. There was a huge storm outside, and from time to time he could see the sudden light flashing as lightning struck. The lightning lit up the whole room for a brief moment and then disappeared. Each time, after the brightness, Dean counted slowly in his head until he heard the sound of the thunder. This action showed how far the lightning was. His father, John, taught him this trick when he was little, and ever since he has been doing that, sometimes without even realizing it.

The room lit up suddenly, and for a slight moment the dark parts of the bedroom could be seen, and then just a second later everything went back to normal. It was dark again, and Dean started counting, but as soon as he said 1 in his head, he heard an extremely loud and resounding noise. A surprised expression appeared on his face as he realized that this time the lightning struck a little bit too close.

Anyone would be scared of it, a child or a dog, or maybe even an adult. But for Dean it was so refreshing; he stood up and opened the window by his bed to feel the unmistakable smell of the rain. He sat back on his bed and zoned out for a minute.

He took his time thinking. Every time there was a storm outside, Dean felt so seen. So understood. He resonated well with the thunder because he felt like he was a hurricane. A hurricane that destroyed so many lives and places, only to leave a mess after itself. Just like, for example, Dean destroyed the girl's life, got her killed, and then left Castiel feeling guilty when he shouldn't.

He turned his head back to look at the television, and he saw a pretty girl with caramel blonde hair screaming on the screen. He kept watching, but he didn't find it interesting.

The screaming suddenly stopped, and the television turned off without any sign. The lamp that was on the other side of the bed swiftly went out, leaving Dean in complete darkness. Dean straightened his back, and he became serious immediately. It was like his survival mode activated, and he quickly got up. He closed his window and tried to turn the lamp on, then the TV. None of them were working, so he tried to look for his phone without any success. Then another lightning strike brightened up the space, and Dean luckily found his mobile. He then heard the scary loud noise coming from the sky, and he turned the flashlight mode on on his phone.

He walked out of the room, and when he looked at his mobile, he noticed that there was no signal. He thought that this must be a power outage, and so that was the reason why all the mechanics stopped functioning suddenly.

He walked down to the place where he could try to turn it back on, but he knew that this wasn't something he could just fix. He knew he had to wait until the storm disappeared, so he turned back and walked back to his quiet room. The dark and silent halls made him feel uneasy, so he hurried up a bit.

Reaching his room, he opened the window once again and lay down on his comfortable bed. He grabbed his beer and took a sip of it.

He just lies there for hours, and it feels like forever. Waiting for the storm to be gone drives him crazy, and he can't do anything about it. His thoughts at first revolved around Sam and his new life. Dean misses him more than most things and would do anything to get his old life back. And after that, memories of Castiel flooded his mind as he put his two hands over his face.

Castiel. His deep ocean blue eyes popped up in Dean's head, and then he remembered his hair and his lips, his hands, his nose, his skin, and his wings. He wondered where he could possibly be now and what he was up to. Was he even alive?! He quickly calmed himself down, thinking he had to be alive.

He closed his eyes as a certain memory popped up in his mind, and Dean slowly pulled his mouth into a smile. He looked up at his ceiling as he remembered every detail about the cute and wholesome moment they had shared.

[Flashback begins]

It was a rainy day like this, years ago. Sam was ill, which he never really was, so it was unusual. In Iowa there was a vampire murdering innocent people, and Dean saw the weird case on the news just a few days before. He had decided to go for a hunt to end the vampire case, but since Sam wouldn't let him go by himself, Dean took Castiel with him as his partner.

When Dean parked the car outside the sheriff's office, they got out of the Impala, and Castiel took a deep breath. They were both already dressed up in their suits, and they really seemed like FBI agents. Dean gave Cas his FBI ID, and they looked at each other.

"You ready?" Dean asked. "Agent Rogers?"

"I am as ready as I'll ever be, Agent, uh, Reed." Castiel answered and smiled at his partner. Dean started to walk towards the entrance, and Cas immediately followed.

They stepped through the glass door, and Dean looked at Castiel one more time before walking up to a lady and introducing themselves.

"Good afternoon, I'm Agent Reed, and this is my partner, Agent Rogers." Dean said as he gestured with his hands, pointing at Castiel. "We are investigating the new case. Can I please talk to the sheriff?" Dean finished as he took out his ID and showed it to the woman. Castiel copied him and did the same.

"Right away, Agents. He will be here in about 10 minutes." The lady replied, and she smiled at them as she got back to her work.

Dean and Cas walked outside since it stopped raining, and they started discussing the case. Five people have been murdered so far, two men and three women. They were all found with missing body parts and basically no blood. They thought it was definitely a vampire, no doubt.

As they stood outside, they heard a car stop not so far away, and Dean saw it was the sheriff's car. They looked at each other, and Dean turned to look at the man who just stopped the car. Castiel didn't look away at the man; he kept his glance over Dean, noticing that his tie was a bit loose.

Castiel suddenly reached out to fix Dean's tie. Dean looked back at Cas instantly as he felt the man's touch on his neck. Dean raised an eyebrow as he was surprised by the sudden movement, but he didn't stop Cas.

Cas looked Dean in the eyes, but he didn't really show any emotions on his face. He fixed his tie, not breaking the eye contact. Dean swallowed loudly as he felt a bit nervous. Dean didn't know why, but this time something was different; he felt nervous, but in a good way. Although Castiel finished fixing his tie, he kept his hand on Dean's tie for a moment that felt like a lifetime to both. Castiel didn't break eye contact, and he felt so peaceful at that moment. He was lost in Dean's mesmerizing forest green eyes, and as soon as Cas looked at Dean's lips, he heard a man shouting over to them.

"Agent Reed and Agent Rogers?" the sheriff asked, and Dean turned to look at him as Castiel let go of Dean's tie.

Dean swallowed once again as he tried to shake off the unusual feeling he just experienced. He looked back at Castiel once again, only to realize Cas was already staring at Dean. They shared a quiet and profound, really meaningful glance as Dean answered the man.

"We are. Sheriff Callahan, right?" Dean said, and the man reached them; they shook hands.

"You are. My assistant called me and told me about you." Sheriff Callahan explained as he invited them into his office with gesturing. They both followed the man inside.

They started explaining the case and why they were there, and the sheriff shared every piece of information with them.

As they sat there trying to figure out who the vampire was, a smile slowly appeared on Dean's lips. He tried to hide it because he felt like it would be weird if they saw he was smiling. They were discussing murder after all, but he just couldn't shake off this new and exciting but also terrifying feeling. He secretly took a look at his partner sitting right next to him as he listened carefully to what Castiel had to say about the case. He smiled and tried to focus once again, but he couldn't really concentrate after what happened.

[Flashback ends]

Dean just couldn't stop smiling; he felt so shocked that a memory got him giggling like that. He let himself be happy for a slight moment, letting the memory take over his mind.

However, the happiness that had replaced the void he felt vanished quickly as he fell asleep. And a cruel, horrifying dream twisted his mind.

Chapter Text

"Hey man, could you please take a look at the men' toilets? … Some guy told me one of them wasn't working." Castiel heard these words coming from a tall man standing across the place. The man was Castiel's boss and was wearing a plain shirt with a name tag on it saying Liam. Liam was taller than usual, and he had blonde hair paired with green eyes and a light beard.

"Yes, of course, Liam." Castiel replied quickly after he noticed Liam standing across the room. "Just give me a few minutes." He smiled awkwardly, and Liam nodded, leaving the room.

Cas looked around the room. He was standing in the storeroom of the gas station he was working at. The room was small and was filled with many shelves that contained everything a gas station would possibly sell. His job was to stock these goods and clean.

He finished labeling the item he was holding and put it down on the shelf. Then, he stood up and started walking outside of the room.

This was his second week working at the gas station as a janitor. After meeting Father John, the priest of the church, Castiel decided to stay at the local church for the night. One evening when he arrived back at the church, Father John was still there, working on something. They had a nice conversation where Father John found out that Castiel had spent his last few days looking for a job without any success.

Castiel told him that nobody would want to hire a homeless man who looks like him. He said he would keep trying, and the parson comforted him. Father John told Cas that the fact that he is trying to find a job is a very promising start. After Castiel explained his goal and his rudimentary plans, Father John felt relieved. The priest knew he had made the right decision when he let Castiel into his church. As a reward, Father John offered a simple job at the local gas station that wouldn't require any ID or experience. Father John was a well-respected man; he had connections, and he got this job for Castiel.

Cas was grateful. There were no other words that could possibly describe his feelings better. He was just genuinely so grateful.

He went outside of the gas station through the shop, and he walked back to the men's toilets. A few men were in there, but he didn't really bother them. He quickly and easily found the not functioning toilet and formed a plan in his head on how to fix the problem.

As Castiel was looking down at the toilet, a disgusted look appeared on his face. He took a moment to remember the times he used to fight battles in the name of God and compared these times to that exact moment, when he was standing above a toilet full of shit. This situation was full of shit, really.

After cleaning the toilet, almost throwing up, he went back to the shop where he met Jeannie, his coworker. She wasn't really his coworker, though. She was above him; she was a cashier, and she was older than him. Jeannie was about 35 years old, and Castiel knew from earlier conversations that she had a kid.

She was standing by the desk and was looking at her phone. She had just arrived, so this was their first meeting today.

"Hey Jeannie, how's it going?" Castiel asked, trying to sound cool and friendly. He wanted to make some friends since he didn't really have many people he could talk to.

"Great." She replied, not sharing too much information. Jeannie didn't even look up from her phone while answering. Since Cas thought that their conversation didn't really last long, he decided to go back to the storeroom to finish his job.

There he began to continue labeling the goods, which he actually found extremely dull. While his hands were working, his mind wandered. Castiel missed his old life, but he knew nothing would ever be the same, so he gathered his strength to stop feeling sorry for himself.

Hours passed, and Cas finally finished his work. He didn't even realize how long it took him until he looked up at the clock and saw it was already 6:27 pm. He stood up and stretched his back a bit; he was clearly feeling tired. Then he grabbed his backpack, which contained nothing. He found his backpack in the trash a few days ago, and after he found it, he immediately realized why it was thrown out. There was a huge hole in the back of the bag. It wasn't noticeable, so he kept it, and he put a bottle of water in it every day.

He walked outside of the building, saying goodbye to Jeannie and wishing her good night. Jeannie replied with attitude, saying it wasn't going to be a good night if she had to work all night. Castiel didn't say anything to that; he didn't really know what he could answer.

It was dark, and it was the end of February, so the weather was cold. Although it wasn't as cold as it was when he turned human, for which he was grateful. The streets looked lifeless, with only a few people walking there and some cars racing by them. The sky was clear with countless stars appearing, creating a beautiful atmosphere.

Castiel walked slowly due to his tiredness. When he saw the church across the road, he felt relieved, and he hurried up a bit. When he stepped inside, Father John was already standing there, waiting for Cas.

"Hello, Castiel, How was your day?" The older man nicely asked as he took something out of his pocket.

"Hey, thanks, it was alright. I had to fix one of the toilets and label a bunch of goods. I'm getting paid tomorrow." Castiel answered as he walked closer to the man.

Father John took some bread out of his pocket and handed it to Castiel. Sometimes the priest would bring food for him when Cas couldn't afford it. Today was one of those days.

Cas took the bread and smiled at him with gratitude in his eyes. A few minutes after their interaction, the parson left the building, and Castiel was left by himself.

He decided to have his bread as his dinner, so he began walking towards the back of the church. A door led him to the stairs that would lead him to the roof of the building. He took his time getting there, with each step getting even more tired. When he reached the top of the stairs, he grabbed the handle of the old wooden door and pushed it down. As the door opened, Castiel stepped out on the roof; the cold February breeze hit his face. He got goosebumps, and he felt the soft wind mess his hair. He took a few steps and then sat down on the floor.

He took out his bread and broke a piece of it. He lifted the small piece to his mouth and slowly chewed on it. It tasted awful; it was dry and hard. However, he didn't have a choice: bread or nothing. And ever since he knew how nothing felt, he insisted on bread. Father John didn't want to give Cas a shitty bread, probably, but Castiel didn't mind. He would feel terrible if the priest spent any money on Castiel. Castiel knew he had to earn his meal, and he was fine with the awful bread. He just had to stay alive.

As he sat there, he swallowed the bread and broke another piece of it, looking up at the sky. Oh, the sky. So beautiful. He never adored it before like that; he used to be up there, and he never knew what it really looked like from Earth. He didn't want to know; he never cared. But now that he was human, he noticed smaller things that he hadn't seen before. And the night sky was one of them. Ever since he captured its real value, he would spend his nights on the roof, despite the cold.

He kept looking at the stars, admiring them. What if he and Dean were both looking at the same constellation? Maybe they were both staring at the very same stars and missed each other. As these thoughts went through Castiel's mind, he got goosebumps, but he couldn't decide whether he got them because of the weather or because of the thought of Dean.

After he finished his bread, he fell asleep quickly. He didn't have the strength to make it back to the inside of the building, so he fell asleep there. He was lucky that it wasn't raining that night, and even luckier it wasn't snowing. A dream took over his mind slowly.

Castiel was standing in front of a grey and old church in his dream. He was wearing a black suit with a black tie; his hair wasn't messy at all. He looked like he just got out of the bathroom after he had spent hours getting ready. He could hear some organ melody coming from inside, but he couldn't see who was making the sound because the doors of the church were closed.

He stepped closer and pushed the door open with both of his hands. As the door opened, he flinched because inside it was so light. He lifted his right arm to cover his eyes. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the sudden light, he put his hand down and looked around. He was standing at the start of the aisle, and people were sitting in the pews. Nobody turned to look at him; it felt like he was invisible. Then he took a few steps, and he kept scanning the people. He noticed Bobby, Sam, Jessica, Jo, and Ellen sitting next to each other in the second row. He looked around, but he didn't see Dean anywhere; he wasn't there. On the other side of the church, the people sitting on the pews were different. He saw Gabriel, Uriel, and Michael sitting next to each other, looking in front of themselves strictly. No emotion on their faces. As he turned, he saw even more familiar faces and people he recognized.

And out of nowhere he heard a voice. Just from the very first word he heard, he immediately recognized who the voice belonged to. He slowly turned around and saw Dean standing near the altar dressed as a priest. He was wearing a black cassock, and in his hand there was the Bible. Dean looked up to check if everyone was paying attention, but he didn't see Castiel standing there. He then opened his mouth and started speaking.

"He was kind and true to himself." He said, and Cas got a bit confused, not understanding what Dean meant. Who was he talking about?

"An angel lost its wings but grew stronger ones while being human." Dean continued, but the crowd didn't really react to anything.

Then, as Priest Dean kept talking, Castiel's eyes stopped scanning the room, focusing on only one thing. Next to the altar, he saw a black casket opened. He walked up to it to see it for himself. With each step, his fear grew even bigger. He knew what the coffin would contain, but he didn't want to believe it. He still had home. Dean was talking about someone Castiel didn't know. But as soon as he reached the casket, a disappointed and desperate look appeared on his face. His blue eyes filled with agony as he looked closer in his own eyes, which showed no emotion.

Inside the coffin, there he was, lying in the same suit he was wearing. Castiel saw himself pale and lifeless as he took a step back. It was his own funeral. People were grieving him and Dean... Dean was talking about him.

"I miss you, Castiel," he heard Dean say, and he looked up at Dean, but Dean didn't look at him. A tear shed from Dean's eye, and it fell on the floor. Castiel's heart breaks seeing Dean like that. He seemed so broken and defeated. He felt like he couldn't do this anymore, and he swiftly rushed out of the church. When he reached the streets, he looked around with frightened eyes to see the streets burn and the city die. Flames took over everything, and Castiel got so scared because he was human now. He was vulnerable. He turned around to rush back in the building, but its doors were closed. He tried to push it open with his hands but couldn't. The fire was stronger, and flames took over everything.

Castiel woke up sweating in the middle of the night, and he sat up quickly. He looked around still with the scared look on his face, and he realized that everything was okay. He calmed down, saying that it was just a dream. He repeated these words in his head a few more times. He felt the cold wind on his skin, and he, out of the blue, was cold. He was freezing, so he stood up and hurried inside.

He climbed the stairs and reached the place that made him feel comfortable. It was like a home.

He then put his head on the pew and fell asleep, hoping the awful and terrible dream wouldn't continue.

Chapter Text

"Four men have been murdered by a new serial killer so far. The latest victim was found dead at a motel in Wyoming last night." Dean heard the voice of a lady speaking about the news on television. He was sitting on his bed while he was sharpening a knife. He paid attention to the news because he was looking for a new hunt for himself. Although this case didn't really grab his attention. It seemed like a usual serial killer so far, and he wasn't interested in that.

Dean had decided to actually go for a hunt; he missed the adrenaline and the rush. He knew it wasn't the best to go alone, but he didn't have anyone to go with. And he wasn't looking for a dangerous hunt anyway; he just wanted a silly vampire or an easy werewolf.

"The victim's pockets contained fake FBI IDs, surprisingly. It is possible that the victim was working with the killer, according to the local sheriff." The woman said as Dean lifted his head to look at the TV. He turned his attention from the knife in his hands towards the television quickly. Now that sounded interesting. Fake FBI IDs are used by hunters, Dean thought. But it could be used by anyone, basically, so he focused on the knife again.

"The reason we know for sure we are dealing with a serial killer is because nails, hair, and parts of skin were also found at all crime scenes." Dean shifted his glance over to the TV with a confused and serious look on his face. "In a condition, we can surely connect."

Dean slowly put his knife on his bed next to himself and stepped closer to the television.

"Now, let's hear the weather forecast." The woman said, and a man appeared on the screen who started talking about the weather. That really didn't interest him at all, but the case clearly got his attention.

He stood up and rushed into the library, or, as he liked to call it, the living room of the bunker. Then he grabbed his laptop and pulled a chair out to sit on it. When he placed himself down comfortably, he opened the laptop and logged in. He then searched for Wyoming serial killer.

Not surprisingly, the first site that appeared was about the new case he just heard about recently. It was published by the police, so he knew he could rely on it. He started reading about the case, and after just a few minutes of researching, he knew the serial killer was a supernatural being.

He didn't know what exactly, but the remains of human skin, hair, and nails warned him. He suspected a shapeshifter, but he still didn't have enough evidence.

He pulled his mouth into a nearly invisible smile, and he closed the laptop. He finally had something that felt like a little goal. He wanted to end the killer. Because if a shapeshifter kills, if it really is a shapeshifter, it kills by choice, not by instinct.

He called Sam shortly after he had made his decision to visit Wyoming. They had a short conversation as Dean explained the case in such an excited tone to his little brother, and Sam told him to be safe and careful. He also said that if anything goes wrong, Dean has to call Sam and let him know. Sam also made Dean promise him that if he needs help, Sam will be the first one to call. Dean's heart melted when he heard his little Sammy be so worried. After the phone call had ended, Dean went to get his stuff.

He packed his weapons and equipment carefully that he might possibly need for killing the monster. He grabbed his keys, his phone, and his leather jacket and started the car.

He was ready for all of it. Dean knew that it would take almost ten hours of driving to get to Wyoming, but he didn't care. There were times when he had to drive so much more. But not alone.

When he started driving, it was about 10 in the morning, so he planned to stay in a motel for the night. The drive there was lonely and boring. After a few hours, Dean turned down the volume of the music he was playing. He just had to drive and kill, he thought.

After driving for almost 7 hours straight, Dean felt exhausted. He knew he was almost there; Wyoming was only about 3 hours away now, but he knew even if he arrived in time, he would be useless while being this tired. His hands on the wheel were aching for rest, and he felt his eyes slowly close, and then he opened them swiftly.

He knew it was time to put his head down on a cheap pillow now, so when he noticed the next motel, he parked his car and got out, stretching his back and legs. He felt his stomach growl; he just realized he was basically starving. He hadn't really eaten anything today, and it suddenly hit him how hungry he was.

He went in and asked for a room as soon as he could. When the nice receptionist lady handed him the keys, he immediately rushed out to find a vending machine. It didn't take him much time to find one, and he ordered some sweets. It wasn't the ideal dinner, but he didn't have any other choice. He didn't even wait to reach his room; he opened the chocolate he had just bought and took a huge bite.

He made a little mhm sound, feeling the sweet taste of the chocolate on his tongue. He started walking towards his room, and when he opened the door, he didn't bother to look around. He didn't bother to turn the light on. He locked the door and kicked his shoes off. On his way to bed, he grabbed his T-shirt and pulled it over his head, revealing his bare chest. As soon as he reached the bed, he jumped into it and pulled the blanket over his head. He closed his green eyes and soon began snoring loudly.

The next day, he woke up feeling a sharp pain in his neck from lying in the same position for too long. He sat up, stretching his neck, and wasted no time. He dressed up and left the room holding some chips in his right hand. He was wearing the very same clothes he was yesterday. Dean gave the key back to the receptionist and went back to his car. While he was placing himself comfortably in the car, a sudden adrenaline portion rushed over his body, and he was so excited about hunting once again.

He didn't like hunting, not at all. He didn't like killing and murdering, but he knew it was his job. Hunting was just what he had to do for the better. And this time it gave him a goal, not a big one, but enough to make him keep going.

He started the car and drove straight to Wyoming without stopping the engine once. The long minutes turned into hours, and Dean finally arrived at his destination.

He parked his beautiful Impala in front of the small police station and went in. He was looking for the sheriff to get every piece of information about the killings. Inside the small building, he noticed a young man talking on the phone behind the counter. When he turned his hand, he saw a man with a sheriff tag on his chest and an older woman talking not far away. He decided to leave the receptionist and just went straight to the sheriff.

"Sheriff." Dean called out, and the man's head quickly turned to face Dean. "I'm Agent Reed from the FBI. I'm here to solve the Wyoming serial killer case," he introduced himself as he took out his fake ID and showed it to the man.

"Oh, well hello, cutie." Before the sheriff could reply, the older lady cut him off. She was standing next to the sheriff, wearing a purple cardigan and blue glasses. Dean showed a fast smile at him and turned his face back towards the sheriff.

"Agent Reed, I'm really glad you're here. I could use some help with the case certainly." the sheriff said.

"I'm Sheriff Stokes; I'm working on this case. Come on, let's get into it!" Stokes finished, and he waved his hand for Dean to follow him. Dean did what he was told and followed the man into his office.

"So, five men were killed brutally. Human remains, such as hair, nails, and skin, were found in all crime scenes. They all had fake IDs and weapons." The sheriff explained the details of the case.

"Five? I thought four people had died." Dean showed a confused look on his face.

"The fifth victim was just found hours ago in the backyard of a woman's house." The sheriff explained, and Dean felt so disappointed. Another hunter probably was killed because he wasn't fast enough.

"Have you interviewed the woman?"

"Not yet, I was just about to, but now that you're here, you could go for it if you'd like."

Dean decided to do it by himself, and after he got all the official papers and documents about the case, he started his car and went to the woman's house.

When he got out, he felt the cold breeze hit his face. It was a rainy day, and the sky was dark.

He walked up to the house and knocked on the door a few times. The woman opened the door and let Dean in. After introducing themselves, she suggested they sit in her living room, and Dean accepted the kind offer.

"So, Mrs. Avery, when and how did you find the body exactly?" Dean asked as he looked in the woman's eyes.

"Oh, well, I just came home from work, and I was about to give water to the plants, and as I stepped out, I saw blood. All I saw was blood. I followed where it came from, and there he was, lying lifeless." A tear shed from her eyes.

"The worst part is the message he left. How am I going to wash it off?!" The lady cried out as Dean frowned.

"What message?"

"He painted a sentence on the wall of my house. With blood."

"Can I see?" Dean asked, and they both stood up. Mrs. Avery led him outside, and Dean's eyes widened as he saw the message.

"Now I hunt." Dean read out loud what he saw written on the wall with blood.

Now he was sure that the shapeshifter was killing hunters. He already looked over the names of the victims, and he felt so relieved when he realized he didn't know them. It could've been someone he knew.

He thanked the lady and soon after left. He went back to the sheriff's office and looked back at all the recordings there were.

He was watching the videos for at least an hour when he saw something interesting finally. In the video there was a man walking into a store when he looked in the camera, and Dean saw it. The strange man's eyes shined, and Dean was sure it was a shapeshifter.

But he couldn't figure out yet how he knew about the hunters identities. He clearly understood the pattern, that he was targeting hunters, but hunters never reveal themselves. They are good at hiding, so how did he find out about their true selves?

He went through the known data about the victims a few days before the murders again and again. He missed something; he knew he did. He just didn't know what. He yawned, and he put his head in his hands as he let himself disconnect from all of it for a slight moment.

Maybe if Sam were here, he would see what Dean couldn't.

But he wasn't, so Dean started reading the documents over again. After long minutes of rereading, he suddenly noticed something. A bar. They all went to a bar that was not far from the motel where he was staying.

Dean smiled at the news because he managed to do it by himself. He grabbed his keys and hurried to his car.

------

'S. Colt Bar' Dean read the sign and suddenly understood why all the hunters visited this place. S. Colt Bar was a unified designation for bars that meant a safe place for hunters. If a hunter needed help, these bars offered it. Dean lowered his gun and put it into his pocket as he stepped into the bar.

He had been to these bars a few times when he was younger. Dean had visited the S. Colt bar with his father, John, once or twice, and he remembered that these bars were joyful. It was a place where hunters could meet safely, without any strange looks. They could discuss methods, and they could talk about their achievements freely.

Dean grabbed the door handle and pushed it down as he stepped in. When the door opened, a sharp ringing noise was heard. And Dean's smirk faded as he saw the half-abandoned bar. It was nothing like he remembered.

The bar was close to empty, only a few loners enjoying their drink in each corner of the room. The waitress looked like she was forced to be there, and her eyes reflected almost no emotion. Dean saw the bar chairs all over the place, most of them broken. The pool was dirty, and leftover food was left on it.

Dean stepped closer to the waitress and asked her. "What happened here?"

The woman looked up and didn't reply and instead asked him. "Can I get you anything?"

Dean turned his head, suspecting something bad, and replied calmly.

"No, thanks. Just wanted to check out what's up in here. I better get going," he finished as he stood up. From where he was standing now, he noticed something strange and terrifying. He saw the exact replica of the waitress lying there with blood all around her body. As Dean's eyes widened, the waitress clearly noticed as she stepped closer to the counter.

He found it. Dean found the shapeshifter disguised as a waitress. He immediately reached his pocket, where he had put the gun before. When he didn't feel the familiar cold steel, he swallowed loudly. He looked up at the shifter standing right in front of him as he realized she was the one holding his gun.

He didn't know she got it, but the monster was pointing the gun right at Dean, and he raised his hands. He wasn't really in the mood to get shot by a shapeshifter and die.

So this is how the shifter got their victims. They all came here for help. For safety. And they were trapped; they all ended up being dead. Some managed to run, but they all finished their lives the same way. And now Dean was trapped; he was naive and actually thought this place could offer safety. No place could, not in Dean's experience.

Dean was ready for a fight; however, he knew that battle wouldn't be fair and he would most likely die from it, but he was ready for it.

Just as he was about to run towards the shapeshifter, suddenly he heard a ringing noise. He saw the shifter's head quickly turn towards the entry door in slow motion. Then a deafeningly loud sound filled the place. As Dean's eyes widened, he saw the bullet reach its destination, and it went right through the shifter's brain. The shifter collapsed on the floor. Blood started to flow and soon covered everything. Although Dean wasn't standing close to the counter, he felt the red liquid reach his skin. A tiny drop of blood landed right under his right eye as, with a shocking expression, he turned his face to finally see what happened exactly. He knew someone entered the door and murdered the monster; he just didn't understand who or why.

He could only see a dark figure of a man standing at the door. He didn't see his face yet, but he saw that he was a few inches taller than Dean and he was fit, trained.

Dean stepped closer to see the man better, and when he did, he saw a familiar face. His eyes widened.

"Elliott?" Dean questioned while he was still looking at the man in front of him, shocked.

"Oh my goodness, Dean Winchester?!" The man said, and he seemed really surprised as well.

Dean stared at the familiar face, and a thousand memories flooded his mind. Elliott Murdock. Dean met Elliott Murdock back when he was around 16 years old. One time Dean was caught shoplifting; he actually just wanted to feed his little brother when they caught him, and he was soon sent to Sonny's Boys' Home. Sonny's Boys' Home was on a farm where Sonny, the owner, would help younger troubled men start over. Sonny used to teach them and set them on the right path.

Dean spent overall at least two months there, and he enjoyed his time there. No hunting, no killing, and no John. He actually found joy in working on the farm with boys his age. Elliott Murdock arrived a week after Dean did. They were the new ones, so they got on pretty well. They became friends and spent a lot of time together. Dean even trusted him enough to tell Elliott about hunting supernatural beings.

Their friendship was strong, and they connected easily, but they didn't have much time to enjoy it. One night John arrived with Sma sitting in the back of the Impala looking for Dean. Sonny tried to convince Dean to stay because he knew that John had a negative grip that was holding Dean down, but Dean chose to go back to his family. Not for John, not for hunting, but for his little brother, Sammy.

Elliott didn't have anyone that would want him back, so when Dean woke him up to say goodbye, he felt betrayed. And when Dean left, his heart ached for his first and only true friend, who would understand him. Elliott didn't know, but Dean tried to convince his father to take Elliott with them. He even mentioned that he told Elliott about their lives as hunters, but all he got from John for that was a purple bruise under his eye.

John beat him for his actions, not in front of Sam, of course, but he still did. One hit under his right eye for shoplifting, one on his collarbonefor talking back, a kick on his stomach for telling Elliott, and one on his nose for being weak. Elliott didn't know this, of course, and Dean felt terrible that he wasn't able to help Elliott back then.

Now Elliott Murdock was standing right in front of him wearing a navy blue leather jacket with a simple black shirt under it. He paired these with jeans and a gun. His stubble started to show, and his dark brown eyes focused on Dean.

Elliott stepped closer and pulled Dean in for a half hug. Dean, still a bit surprised, hugged his old friend and looked at him.

"What are you doing here?" Dean asked, clearly curious.

"I was hunting, and I saved your ass, bro. That shifter was a cunning little shit." Elliott answered playfully, and he was clearly excited that he got to see his childhood friend again.

"You're a hunter?!"

"Yeah, you know shit happens, and after you introduced me to this world, I realized a few things. One of these was that I had to choose this path, this life." Elliott replied, and he suggested going outside.

"Are you going home?" Dean asked.

"I don't really go home; I hunt all the time. I usually stay in motels," he said and looked Dean in the eyes. "-you?

"I live in Kansas now," he stated, and a cold breeze hit his face as they were standing under the stars. Dean took a moment of silence and looked up to the sky. He stared at the beautiful collection of planets and stars forming even more mesmerizing constellations. He then had this sudden idea out of the blue and said.

"It's been a long time, buddy. If… if you want, you could come back to Kansas with me if you'd like a bit of rest." Dean started feeling a bit awkward. He was feeling sorry for his friend; he knew this kind of life all too well. And because of this, he knew how exhausting it is to travel constantly and murder every day. If someone had offered him anything like what he was suggesting now, a safe place, Dean would've been happy to relax for a few days.

"You know, just for a few days, to get away from all of it." Dean said as he looked back at Elliott.

Elliott pulled his lips into a grateful smile and nodded slowly. "That would mean a lot, Dean. I missed you honestly; it's been so long. I haven't even heard from you." Elliott said, and he offered Dean's genuine offer.

"You said you'd write me." Dean kept a serious expression and kept the eye contact.

"I wanted to, really. I didn't know your address." Elliott said sadly, and a sudden rush of nostalgia rushed over Dean.

"I didn't have one."

And with that their short conversation ended as they walked over to the Impala.

"Is this your car?" Dean asked Elliott as he pointed his fingers towards the old car in front of him.

"No, I just borrowed it. We can go with your car; I'll leave this one here," he said, and he went over to open his car's trunk. Dean helped him to pack his things, and they drove to Elliott's motel room, and Elliott quickly gathered his things, which were not much.

Then they sat in the car, and Dean turned the key to start the car. This journey had a really good outcome this time, Dena thought. An old friend and some good memories came flooding back as he started to drive. Dean was surprised that Elliott Murdock turned out to be a coldblooded hunter, but he was glad they met once again. It felt refreshing.

They started the ten-hour car trip back to Kansas, to the bunker.

The bunker was empty, lifeless, now that Sam was gone. Now that Castiel was gone. Dean was alone, and he could use some company. He wanted to help Elliott, offer him a few days of peace. However, Dean couldn't decide whether he wanted Elliott to stay to help him or for selfish reasons. Dean wanted company; he wanted a friend, and Elliott was there.

Dean turned the music on as he heard the familiar melody playing. He nodded his head to the rhythm of the song and looked over to his friend sitting next to him. Elliott seemed to enjoy the music too, and Dean looked back at the road and continued to drive in peace.

Chapter Text

"Dean?" Sam asked in a raspy voice, and Dean could hear the creak as his little brother sat up on it. "Why are you calling me in the middle of the night? Is everything okay?"

Dean was sitting in the library back in the bunker. His friend Elliott was sleeping in one of the many bedrooms. They just got back, and Dean wanted to tell everything that happened to Sam, just so he knows. His brother didn't know that Dean had spent two months at Sonny's place when he was 16; he didn't know anything about that. And that's why Dean wanted to share his past with Sam; he wanted to introduce Elliott. Maybe he should've waited till the morning, but he couldn't.

"Yes, everything's alright. I'm having an old friend stay over at the bunker." He said, and he kept his voice down because he didn't want Elliott to accidentally hear them talking. And also, he didn't want to wake him.

"Really?! That was the big deal?" Sam asked, and Dean could hear that he was annoyed and tired. "Who is it?"

"You don't know him; his name is Elliott. You should come over tomorrow morning. I want to introduce you to him."

"Okay, Dean. I will, then. I still don't get it. Why did you have to wake me up for this?"

"So you wouldn't make other plans for the morning, little brother." Dean said, and then he said goodbye to Sam, and they both hung up.

In reality, he feared his brother might make other plans. Deep in his heart he thought maybe his baby brother would rather spend his time with anyone other than his own brother, and this feeling consumed Dean.

Dean was really tired; the way back home wasn't that exhausting since Elliott drove too, but still he felt worn out.

He stood up and turned the light off, walking into his own room. He looked around and saw that everything was just like he had left it. He didn't turn the TV on; he didn't really want to do anything. He didn't understand his feelings really because earlier he was so full of hope that Elliott would change something. And now, he saw nothing had changed, and he realized nothing really did. Not his room, not his sins, not his past. Not the void in his chest longing for someone he can't have.

He visited the bathroom, and when he looked in the mirror, he didn't feel the war inside of him; he only felt the emptiness. He felt everything at once and nothing at all, but he was so tired he just couldn't care. He just couldn't physically deal with it. Not mentally either.

He didn't change his clothes, although his shirt was soaked in now-dry blood and his jeans were dirty. He put his head on the pillow but didn't close his eyes; he instead stared at the wall looking for answers. He felt the cold February breeze on his skin, and he got goosebumps. He suddenly felt like he was freezing, so he reached for the blanket, but his hand froze halfway, and instead of covering himself, he put his hands back next to himself. He was cold, but he didn't use a blanket; he felt like he didn't deserve it.

He fell asleep quickly, and a strange dream appeared in front of his eyes.

He was lying on his back on the hard floor, and when he opened his eyes, everything around him was pitch black. It was night, so dark, but he didn't know where he was. He could barely move, something so close to his face over him, and his chest touched it. His hands reached the object over him, but he couldn't really figure out where he was really. He felt cold wood over his head, and he managed to turn his head to his side.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he noticed a door next to his not far away. His face froze as he needed a few moments to forget his shock. He recognized this exact door; it had been so long since he had seen it.

Suddenly he felt trapped as he knew he was sure he was lying under the bed. Although it was just a dream, it felt so real. He could feel the bed put pressure on his chest, and he felt his right ear touch a spiderweb.

He frowned, and just as he was about to try to get out from under the bed, something or someone moved over him. The bed creaked with a loud noise that broke the dead silence of the dark room.

Dean remembered this room all too well. He spent his happiest years there, his first 4 years. He was just a little child when he lived there, but those times were the most normal ones in his whole life. He was part of the perfect family, and he loved every second of it. His mother, Mary, was alive back then. Dean remembers that she used to bake him pie, Dean's favorite. She would read him bedtime stories and play with him. Sammy was just a baby, and Dean didn't remember much from him, but he could recall that sometimes Dean would help his mother look out for his baby brother or help him eat. He used to play with him even when Sammy couldn't even walk ortalk.

And Dean remembered his father. Dean felt weird thinking about him, and for once not only bad memories floated into his mind. He recalled the way his dad would play with him and how often they would go to the park. Dean felt loved, something he hadn't felt ever since. Dean loved his dad in that house, but as they left the house, they also left the loving version of John.

Sadness hovered over Dean's head, and he wished he could unrecall how they were almost the perfect family. Almost.

He stayed still, his eyes fixated on the door of the room. He felt so trapped, anxiety taking over. His breathing got heavier and heavier, and he felt the need to get out of the small place immediately. He tried to move, but he didn't want to make a sound. He felt his sweat on his forehead and on his skin, and he closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down. It wasn't that he was claustrophobic, although he was a little. But the feeling of lying under a bed hiding, not knowing what he was hiding from, made him uneasy.

"Dad!" Dean heard the voice of a frightened little boy as he realized it was himself shouting. He heard the little version of Dean call for his father, and he didn't quite remember this moment exactly. Dean didn't move and didn't make a sound. The feeling of anxiety vanished, and fear took over its place. He could still feel the cold liquid on his skin, and he wanted to disappear so badly.

"Dad!" he heard the little boy cry out again for his father, and Dean began to feel nervous; he was afraid his dad might actually enter his room.

Dean heard steps coming from the door, and just when the steps got louder, the door suddenly opened and familiar boots appeared in front of Dean's eyes. He turned his head because he didn't want to look at John; he didn't want to see his face.

Dean closed his eyes, and without even realizing it, he clenched his hands into fists. When he felt the sharp pain on his palm and the warm blood dripping from the tiny wounds caused by his nails, he opened his eyes slowly. It was just a second, and he would hear his voice.

"Dean, are you okay? What happened?" John asked the little boy sitting on the bed with the blanket covering his whole body. John stepped closer to the bed and turned on the lamp on the bedside table next to the bed. Dean stayed silent under the bed, and he started listening to their conversations. Dean wasn't sure this dream was a memory or just a nightmare. Most of his nightmares were memories.

Dean felt anxiety creep up on his skin, and his lung seemed to fail him. He felt like he couldn't breathe. He wanted to disappear so much. He wished he wasn't there; he wished he was invisible. He just wanted to be gone. He would've given everything to wake up. Everything but nothing happened, and the nightmare continued.

This isn't happening. Dean started to repeat this affirmation in his head.
This isn't happening.
This isn't happening.
This isn't happening.
This isn't happening.
This isn't happening.

He knew he had to shut up, so he calmed his breathing back to normal. He felt like the lack of fresh air would make him faint at any moment, but he wouldn't mind. Eventually, after a few moments, his breathing went back to mostly normal, and he seemed to be a bit calmer than not so long ago.

"Was it a nightmare, buddy?" John asked, and Dean could hear him smile. He heard movement on the bed, and when John hugged the little boy, Dean under the bed felt even more pressure on his chest. He felt like he couldn't breathe, but he stayed silent.

"No, Dad." The little boy's voice was low and quiet, like someone was listening to their conversation. "It's here." He then whispered, and his dad hugged him.

"We've talked about this, Dean. Monsters don't exist. There is nothing to be afraid of, pal." John comforted the young boy, and he stood up; his boots made some noise, and Dean turned his head. He saw his father's boots, the boots that Dean sometimes still used when he felt like it. He couldn't see John's face because he was still too close to the bed.

"Daddy, the monster is under my bed. Please save me!" The little boy shouted with pure fear in his voice.

Dean's heart sank as he realized that the monster under his bed was himself. Little Dean was so afraid to grow up to be like this. And Dean knew he was; he really felt like he was. Still, hearing those words made him feel a hole in his chest. The adult Dean was everything the young one was afraid of; he was everything the young one hated. Dean was the monster under the bed.

He felt a cold tear shed from his eye and fall down slowly on his skin, and he quickly wiped the tear with his hand. He felt so disappointed. He let down little Dean and let down himself.

He heard the boy begging his daddy to save him from the monster he was about to become. But instead of saving him, his father turned him into the biggest one.

He felt like a failure. Like he was a criminal who committed the worst crimes, and instead of being put in prison, he was judged to spend the rest of his life by himself on an isolated island. And it hurt. Dean barely ever showed his emotions, but since no one was watching, he let himself shed a few tears. It hurt him so much.

Funny how a dream hurt Dean more than all the times his father beat him.

When he woke up for a moment, he felt dizzy, and he had no idea what happened. Then the cruel nightmare from last night kicked him in the nuts. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, reliving everything from last night. The feeling of being stuck under his childhood bed, the pressure on his chest, the voice of his father. It all came back to his mind like he couldn't get away from it.

He was the monster. The sad truth twisted his mind; he felt so awful. So drained.

He slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, and he just couldn't erase the sound of his father's boots. He clenched his jaw and put both of his hands on his head. He ran a hand through his hair as he stood up.

The words of the little version of himself, "Daddy, the monster is under my bed. Please save me!" echoed in his mind. He wanted to comfort that boy and wanted to tell him that his daddy was not coming to save him.

As Dean stepped in the bathroom to take a shower after such a long night, he remembered that his friend was a few rooms away from him and they had so much to talk about. It's been such a long time.

It had been a long time with so much left unsaid.

Chapter Text

Jennifer Grower. Her name was Jennifer Grower. She was 21 years old. As Castiel sat there reading this information, guilt took over his heart. He frowned and concentrated on the words on the screen.

Cas found out about the local library just a few days ago from Jeannie, her coworker. He didn't know that the library was free. Well, when he first went there, he had to sign a few papers to have the library ID card, but after he did that, he was free to go whenever he wanted.

Well, it hadn't been too long since he turned human, but now that he was working, time seemed to pass faster. He got his library card a week ago, and this was the second time he went there. He loved reading there; it was all so quiet and warm. The smell of new books made him feel so comfortable, but the touch of the pages of the antique books reminded him of Dean. Late-night talkings at the bunker. Reading, getting information by going through the old books from the library of the bunker. It all came back to Dean.

Today Cas noticed a lady using the computer, and he decided to try it out for himself as well. He had no idea how the computer worked, and it took him a few hours to figure out what Google is. He didn't ask for help, though; he knew he was all by himself now, and he had to live and learn by himself. So he did; he chose the hard way. He searched up the name Jennifer Grower first. He remembered her name; how could he forget? The lady who gave her life for a stupid mistake.

He found a ton of information about her online. It was so weird for Cas to search and read from a computer. And he was not good at it; he always accidentally clicked on something else, and he even deleted some apps from the computer.

Jennifer Grower died at 21; some criminal attacked her on the street and stabbed her. Her family grieves her deeply; she was a daughter, a girlfriend, and a genuine person.

As Cas read these words, tears shed from his eyes as he sobbed quietly. He put his hand to cover his mouth, but nothing could cover how deeply guilty he felt. He just couldn't move on. Not from the fact that he had murdered her and not from what Dean said.

Dean. He missed Dean. He thought about him daily, really. But he knew Dean didn't want to see Castiel, so he let him be.

It was raining outside, and Castiel heard the heavy raindrops on the roof. It was dark outside, and since it was Saturday, he didn't have to go to work. He spent his entire day in the library since he didn't have anywhere else to go. He couldn't spend his days in the church because Father John was there with people. And so he went to the library and read.

He felt awful that people and Jennifer's family believed that their loved one was stabbed by some random criminal on the street. Instead, in reality, she was murdered by a ghost because of Castiel. And for Castiel this was devastating.

He quickly wiped away his tears and grabbed the mouse. He clicked on the big red X mark in the corner and stood up. He fixed his dirty coat and grabbed the book he was reading earlier. He swiftly put it back in its place and began to leave the library.

He walked to the door and looked back, waving a goodbye to the man sitting beside the counter. The man waved back, and Cas left the building.

In the meantime he had forgotten that it was raining, so he got totally soaked. His hair became wet in minutes, and his clothes weren't so dirty anymore. It was cold, the rain was heavy, and Cas was freezing. He walked back to the now empty church, and as he stepped in, he felt relieved that nobody was really inside. Not even Father John.

He was shaking, and he felt his lips turn purple. He sat down and took off his coat. Then he was still freezing, so he quickly lit a candle and put it beside himself. He decided that he had to take some other clothes off too, so he started to undress himself. He took everything off except his underwear. He was now sitting on a pew, shaking from the cold weather, wearing just his white underwear. His skin was cold, and he put his hands over the candle. It didn't warm him up.

He was cold and hungry, starving. He didn't have any choice but to sleep. Whenever he was hungry, he put his head on a pew and fell asleep. And then he wasn't starving. He knew this wasn't a solution, but he really couldn't gather any food.

So this was what he did now too. He put his legs up and his head down on the hardwood. He closed his eyes, and as he did that, Jennifer Grower's frightened face appeared in front of his eyes. His past haunted him, not letting him forget his sins. He saw as the girl stepped in to save Dean, not knowing she would die from the action. He remembered not saying anything to Dean when he noticed the ghost behind him, and he honestly didn't know why.

He fell asleep thinking he murdered an innocent girl named Jessica Grower. A 21-year-old girl who just got old enough to drink. Whose life was just about to begin. Who had a boyfriend and a loving family and a future Castiel took from her.

Cas woke up with a sore throat. He didn't know what it was, and when he opened his eyes, he felt pain. His eyes widened at the unusual feeling of pain in his throat, and he got scared. What happened? Why was his throat hurting? Nobody did anything to him, so he didn't understand.

Pain vanished suddenly, and fear took over its place. Castiel had a frightening thought that maybe he was about to die. Was he dying? A thousand thoughts ran through his head as he set up.

He was shivering; his body was shaking. But he just noticed that at the same time he was freezing and he was sweating. Was he really dying? He felt terrible. He felt like he couldn't breathe. And with that he realized that he really couldn't breathe. It was like his nose was blocked, and he was so afraid. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to do. He turned his head and looked around. He didn't know what to do.

He quickly grabbed his clothes. They were all still a bit wet from the rain before, but he felt the need to take them on. It was a Sunday morning, and he didn't have anything to do. His plans included going to the homeless shelter for lunch and then straight to the library. On Sundays in the homeless shelter, free food was given to those who needed it. And Cas really needed it; the last time he had eaten a proper meal was on Wednesday when he got his payment. After receiving the little money, he rushed to the small grocery shop and spent almost all his money. It was his first payment and the first time he ever received money he had worked for. He bought some food, like bread and snacks, and a toothbrush with toothpaste and the least expensive shower gel. That was all he could buy with that little money. And he was so hungry he had eaten them all that day. He hadn't eaten ever since.

As he started to put his pants on, he heard the door open. The creaking sound of the door made his head turn to face the person who had just entered. He found himself in front of Father John, who appeared to be confused by what he was seeing. Castiel quickly grabbed his pants and pulled them on, covering himself.

"Castiel, Is everything alright, my child?" He asked and closed the door behind him. He was wearing the same clothes he always did and stepped closer to Cas.

"I'm so sorry; I know I shouldn't be here by now. I fell asleep, and I don't feel so well. But I was just about to leave. Please forgive me." Castiel replied, not realizing he shouldn't apologize for anything.

"There is no sin for me to forgive, son. What do you mean you don't feel so well?" He asked, a curious and worried expression appearing on his face.

"I might be dying." He said it simply, and the parson standing in front of him seemed to be shocked.

"And why would you say that?"

"I can't breathe. I'm sweating, however, I am freezing. And I'm so tired. I've heard about this disease. Stay away, Father; it might be infectious." Castiel said with pure worry on his face, and he took a step back, trying to keep the man away. He didn't want to kill another person.

The priest smiled softly and stepped closer. Cas' eyes widened, and just as he was about to open his mouth, he was caught off by the sweet laugh of the priest. Cas' worry changed into pure confusion as he asked.

"What is so funny about this?"

The parson didn't answer anything; he just stepped closer and raised his hand. As the priest put his hands closer to him, Castiel flinched, and he closed his eyes. Then when nothing happened, he opened them and saw the heartbreaking expression on the man's face. Father John seemed worried and sad. He wasn't laughing anymore.

"I'm not trying to hurt you, Castiel," he said, and his hand finally reached Cas' forehead. Castiel looked in the man's eyes and waited for him to say something.

"I believe you have the flu. You have a high temperature. Maybe you should lie down for a bit. You're ill."

"So maybe I will survive?" Castiel asked, hoping the man would say yes.

"Not maybe, but definitely you will. You just need to rest."

"I'll come back tonight, thank you." Castiel quietly said, looking down at his hands.

"You'll need medicine. And please stay here. You can stay here; no need to leave in a rush. Everything is alright, child. You need to heal, and then you'll find a way to move on. Only a few people will visit me today, and you won't do any harm. Stay."

Cas raised his eyebrow, and he was so shocked that someone offered him such nice things. But he shouldn't be so surprised; it was Father John Martin. Basically a saint in Castiel's eyes.

"Why?"

"What why?" The priest asked, confused.

"Why do you help me?"

"I believe in you. One day, Castiel, you will grow wings as beautiful as an angel, and I will be proud to say I helped."

"How do I say thank you for everything?" Cas asked, and he felt like he couldn't give anything that would be enough to express how grateful he actually was.

"No need to do that. I became a priest to help, and I'm happy to do that." Father John said honestly and smiled softly at him.

Castiel leaned closer to the priest and looked him in the eyes deeply. With honest and sincere gratitude in his eyes, he promised Father John this. "I will repay your kindness one day. I will show you how grateful I really am. One day, if I have the chance for a better life, I will give you half of what I've earned, and that's how you will know that what you did for me meant everything ever to me."

The priest smiled and nodded; Father John was proud. He knew he made a good mistake letting Cas stay and help him.

The man went back, and a few minutes later came back with a blanket in his hands. He handed it to Castiel and led him to the pew that was closest to the entry.

"Lie here, and I'll get you medicine. Rest, you need to rest."

Ca nodded, and he laid down his head once again. He sniffed, and he wiped his nose on the coat he was still holding. He just realized he was still half naked, but he didn't put his shirt on, since it was still so cold on his skin.

He put the blanket on his cold, soft skin and closed his eyes.

The next time he opened his eyes was because he felt hands on his shoulder. He saw the priest standing in front of him holding a cup of water with some pills in his hands. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. He took the pills and drank the water he was holding. The man promised Cas he would heal, and he believed him.

A few hours later it was around noon, and Castiel woke up feeling slightly better. He wasn't sweating anymore; however, he felt his head pounding slowly. His sore throat was the same, and he felt like he needed fresh air.

He stood up with the blanket still covering himself and looked around. The church seemed empty; not even the priest was there, and Castiel walked around the small place. He opened the doors and stepped outside. The sudden light blinded him, but his eyes slowly adjusted to the sun. He looked around and saw that today was a nice, sunny day. He decided to take a walk, thinking maybe the rays of sun would cure him.

He walked with a peaceful feeling in his heart. He didn't stop until he saw something that changed this feeling. A phone booth right in front of him on the other side of the road. He looked around to see if it was safe to cross the road, and when he realized it was, he walked across it.

When he reached the booth, he stopped and looked at it. He just stared at it for a few moments, still covering his bare chest with the old blanket he had gotten from Father John. He didn't really feel cold; he instead focused on the caressing touch of the rays of the beautiful sun. He felt the light on his face, on his skin.

He then stepped forward, reaching for the handle of the phone booth. Opening the door, he stepped inside and found a directory. He grabbed it quickly and opened it. Inside he found names listed under each other with addresses and phone numbers under them.

After long minutes of running the last names starting with W over, he disappointedly looked up from the book. After that he had an idea and looked down at the book again. He turned some pages and started looking at Kansas addresses. He concentrated and dragged his finger through the pages as he continued to read the addresses.

Suddenly, his gaze fell on an address, and he stopped breathing immediately. He held his breath as he recognized the address. He read the number next to the address, and without even thinking, he dialed it.

He nervously pulled the phone to his ear and listened to the phone making a beep sound every few seconds. He was waiting for someone to pick it up. Not for anyone, but for someone. He felt anxiety build up in his body, and his expression was serious. Hopeful, though.

Then the beeping sound stopped, and he heard the so familiar voice on the other side of the line. His heart skipped a beat, and he held his breath back so he could stay as silent as he could. He wanted to listen carefully; he didn't want to ruin it with his breathing.

"Hello?" Dean said, and Castiel recognized that voice right away. He opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out of it.

"Hello?" Dean repeated the question, and Cas knew he was confused. Nobody called the bunker because it was old and nobody knew of it. Of course it was in the directory, but nobody cared. People didn't just randomly dial the number because the number next to the address had no meaning.

"Is there anyone? Who is there?!" Dean asked nervously, and Cas heard that he was annoyed by that tone.

Then Castiel hung up the phone without even saying anything. The phone call ended, and Castiel thought Dean probably didn't think much of it. However, for Castiel, hearing Dean's voice meant so much. The so missed deep voice on the end of the line made Castiel miss Dean even more. Cas knew Dean didn't want to be found, so he addressed in himself that calling him was stupid and looked around.

He heard his stomach rumble, and he felt so hungry. He could eat anything. Anything. He started walking back to the church, his home. He hoped the priest would give him some food, and he felt pathetic. He was hoping for food so badly.

He walked back with a hint of nostalgia in his soul and hunger in his eyes.

Chapter Text

Dean rushed up the stairs as soon as he heard the loud knocks on the door and pulled the handle to open it. And there he was standing, his little brother, wearing a checkered shirt with jeans, nothing special. His hair grew a bit since Dean had last seen him, but Sam seemed peaceful.

"Hey, Sammy." Dean said and hugged him. They went down the stairs, and Dean led Sam to the kitchen, where Elliott was making breakfast.

"So Sammy, this is Elliott. And Elliott, this is my little brother, Sam." He introduced them to each other, and they shook hands, smiling.

"The little Sammy, you know Dean was talking about you on and on back in the home. It's nice to finally put a face to the name." Elliott said, and he turned back to the scrambled eggs he was making.

Dean looked at Sam with worry in his eyes, because Dean didn't tell how they met yet. Sammy's face seemed confused as he furrowed his eyebrows and looked at Dean for an explanation.

"Can we talk?" Sam asked, and Dean nodded with fear in his stomach. They went outside of the kitchen and stopped in the hallway where Elliott couldn't hear them talk.

Then Sam stopped and turned to face Dean. Dean took a step back and found himself looking up to his little brother, who seemed pretty confused.

"Where do you know this guy from, Dean? What home was she talking about?"

"Remember when I wasn't around for a few months when I was 16?" Dean asked and locked eyes with Sam. "I told you Dad sent me on a hunt alone."

"Yeah, I remember," Sam said with still a confused look on his face.

"Well, I was actually caught while shoplifting, and they sent me to a boys' home. And Dad left me there to punish me." Dean said with one breath quickly while keeping a serious face. He waited for Sam's reaction.

"What?" Sam asked, and his voice cracked. He looked at his brother in disbelief.

Dean just stood there not saying anything at first, but he decided to explain it to him.

"I was stealing, and I was sent to this home called Sonny's Boys Home. It was full of troubled kids, and everything was normal for 2 months. No hunting. No killing. No, Dad. And I had friends; I actually had friends, and Elliott was the best one." He looked down at the ground, and his smile faded away. "But when Dad came to get me, I didn't have a choice. Sonny tried to convince me to stay, but I just couldn't leave you."

Sam took in the new information, and he felt guilty. Dean had a chance to be happy and have a normal life, and he came back to the dangerous, messy lifestyle for him. It was his fault that Dean had an awful life so far. And now that Sam left to live a normal life, he felt even worse. Dean didn't leave him; he chose hunting instead of a normal life for Sam. And Sam left Dean totally alone. He felt selfish, and Dean noticed.

"Hey, hey Sammy, don't feel bad about this. Nothing is ever your fault." Dean said, and he put his hands on Sam's shoulder and locked eyes with him.

"I am the reason you had to live the hunter life. You had a chance to be normal, Dean. I am so sorry." Sam said as he covered his mouth with one hand and looked down.

Dean let go of his brother and said with a soft smile on his lips. "I'm glad I chose you over a normal but boring life. You don't ever have to apologize for anything, okay?"

Sam nodded, feeling guilty, and Dean opened his mouth again. "Elliott's a good guy; he was troubled, but he was always so honest, no lies. I'm glad you finally get to meet him after so many years."

"Yeah, me too. You need friends, Dean." They started to walk back towards the kitchen, Dean feeling extra hungry. "How long will he be staying?"

"I don't know, I offered him a room for a few days, but I wouldn't mind if he stayed longer. Like you said, I need friends." Even if they all die around me. He thought.

As they arrived back to the kitchen, Dean noticed that Elliott had put three plates on the table, and he smiled. They all sat down, and Elliot put some scrambled eggs on all the plates.

"Thanks, man." Dean said and smiled at his old friend. They all started eating and continued to talk.

Sam listened to Dean and Elliott discuss their past, and he smiled at the wholesome moments they mentioned. Sam's brother was nostalgic as he talked about the time they spent together. They didn't spend too much time knowing each other, but Sam knew their friendship was real. Special.

As Sam got to know Elliott better, Sam stretched his hand to get the bottle of orange juice, but he couldn't reach it; it was too far away. Elliott, who was sitting next to Dean, noticed and decided to hand him the drink. Dean was talking about the time he and Elliott got drunk together and Sonny got mad at them. As Elliott lifted the bottle, Sam noticed his hands shaking heavily as Elliott handed him the drink.

Sam poured himself some orange juice in his cup and lifted the drink up to his lips. He looked at Dean's new friend curiously, and he saw the way Elliott clenched his fist. With cunning eyes, Sam brought his focus back on Dean, who was still talking; he seemed cheerful.

"So what brought you to Wyoming in the first place?" Sam asked, and Dean looked at him curiously. Dean hadn't asked him this yet, and that surprised him a bit.

"I've seen that killer on the news, and it seemed suspicious. Knew it was a monster." Elliott replied in a kind tone.

"And how long have you been hunting?" Sam asked once again.

"Well, ever since Dean told me about it."

"Wait, Dean told you about it?!" Sam asked and looked at Dean, surprised. It was unlike him to do such a thing. Sam remembered that Dean would be forever telling him to keep this lifestyle a secret. And Dean was the one who introduced his friend to the hunter world.

"Yeah, and I'm hella glad he did." Answered Elliott.

"Why?" Sam looked at him in the eyes, and he didn't understand why he would be wanting to live this life. "Why would you choose this over a normal and happy life?"

Elliott's facial expressions shifted, and his eyes seemed to darken.

"Supernatural beings killed people I loved. That's enough for me to murder as many as I can for as long as I breathe." Elliott replied, and Sam looked at Dean, who seemed uninformed. Dean had no idea that's why Elkiott became a hunter. Dean remembered talking about Elliott's loved ones, but he didn't know monsters killed them. Well, at that time Elliott didn't know either, but after Dean introduced him to his world, he soon found out and became a monster killer.

"I'm sorry to hear that, buddy. I had no idea." Dean said while he looked at his friend with sadness in his eyes. Because Dean knew this feeling all too well. Losing people he loved to supernatural beings was his kind of thing.

Sam had a weird feeling, and he narrowed his eyes. Without even thinking about it, he said something to Elliott, who seemed to be a bit sad.

"But not all supernatural beings are bad." Sam stated, and he pulled himself out, ready to defend his truth.

He did not just say that.

Dean turned his head in slow motion with a frozen, shocked expression on his face. Dean's eyes opened wide, and his jaw almost hit the floor. Sam quickly realized this wasn't the right moment to discuss that not all monsters are monsters.

Dean was surprised by his brother's statement, and he couldn't believe Sam really just said that after Elliott shared something sad and tragic with them. He looked at his brother with that 'Seriously?!' expression on his face. This situation was weird to Dean. Like, if he told someone about the way his mother was murdered by a demon, the person would just say not all demons are bad. Seriously absurd.

Sam seemed to notice that his statement was not right for the moment, and he apologized quickly.

"Every supernatural being is an evil monster. Every single one. And you can't tell me otherwise." Elliott then said, keeping the serious expression on his face. He turned his head to Dean and waited for him to agree. But Dean didn't agree; he just looked at his friend in silence until Sam broke it.

"Well, I feel like it's time for me to leave. I have things to do. I'm meeting with someone." Sam said as he stood up.

"Ohh, the girl? What was her name again?" Dena asked as he also stood up.

"Iris," Sam said with annoyance in his voice and walked out. Dean followed him, leaving Elliott behind.

As they both reached the front door, Sam turned around to face Dean, and he quickly checked if Elliott was near.

"You know I wasn't talking about just a random supernatural being, right?" Sam asked, and Dean looked down.

"Yeah," Dean replied simply.

"You still haven't told me what happened with him."

"There is nothing to tell." He raised his voice a bit as he was angry. Sam asked this question from time to time, hoping Dean would tell him why Castiel left so suddenly and they haven't seen him ever since. Sam and Dena both knew he was human now, but they didn't know how to find him, so they didn't really look. But Sam still didn't know what the reason was Cas left them out of the blue, but Dean wouldn't tell him anything.

"Yeah, that's a lie." Sam said and walked out the door, leaving Dean in the bunker.

_______________________

Elliott stayed sitting in the chair, not moving at all. Sam's earlier comment about how not every monster is bad affected him more than he showed. He didn't believe that. He was convinced that every supernatural being deserved to die, and he was destined to kill them.

He lifted his head as Dean stepped in the room.

"I'm sorry, my brother's an ass." He said, and Elliot smiled, hiding how he really felt. He waved his hand, gesturing it didn't bother him.

"No need to worry 'bout it." Elliott said, and he stood up to do the dishes.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Dean asked, hoping he would say yes; Dean was curious.

"No, thanks though." Elliot replied and laughed a bit. The laugh didn't sound happy. It sounded more devastated.

Dean sat down and took his phone in his hand, seeing he received a new message. He unlocked his screen to see his only notification from his brother.

'Next time, please tell me about these kinds of things. I'm not a kid anymore.' He read the message and replied with a simple sorry, then turned his phone off.

He put his mobile down on the table and asked what Elliott planned for the day. Elliott explained how he planned to rest and spend a few days off. Dean agreed with him, and he went back to his room to get his keys to the car.

Dean decided to go to the market to get some stuff. And by stuff he meant alcohol for later, but he wouldn't admit that. He went back to the kitchen where Elliott had just finished doing the dishes and asked.

"I'm going to head out to get some groceries. Want to come?"

"No, thanks. I'm honestly kind of tired." He replied, and Dean nodded and left.

_____________________

Dean wasn't out for too long; he just went to the corner store and bought all the alcohol the store had. He then drove back and took his bags back to his room.

Elliott wasn't around. Dean assumed he spent his time in his room resting, and Dean didn't want to bother him. Instead he went to the garage to spend some time working on the Impala.

He got dressed in more comfortable clothes and put out his tools. The garage was far from the rooms, so he put on some loud music in the background. He knew Elliott wouldn't hear him, so he didn't stress about it at all. The loud rock music playing made him feel okay. This was how he coped with stress. Life. His unusual stress-relieving method was working on the car with music on. Well, this was the healthier one. His other way was drinking, and he was ready for that too, but he knew working was a better form.

After a few hours of doing that alone, he looked around in the empty garage to check the clock and realized it was already late afternoon. He decided to finish and packed his tools back to their place carefully.

He inherited those tools from his father, and he had no intention of losing them. Dean inherited many, many things from John and hated most of them. He inherited his anger, his guilt, and his sins. His tools were useful, not like the other things he left for Dean. He loved the tools. John would use them when Dean was little. He used to work on the Impala just like Dean does now. They might seem similar, but they couldn't be more different, really.

Dean found his way back to the library of the bunker, where he saw Elliott sitting and staring at the door.

"Hey man, wanna drink something? Can I get you a beer, maybe?" Dean asked, and he knew he would get drunk tonight. He felt bad about it, but not bad enough to actually care. The maintaining of the car didn't really help him to get away from it all. To get away from someone he was missing. And he had experience that alcohol can help; he knew it wouldn't blow away his problems. However, it helped to distract him.

"Sure. I could use a beer, thank you, lad." Elliott replied and smiled at Dean. A few moments later, Dean came back with two cold bottles of beer in his hands. He placed one in front of Elliott on the desk and opened his.

They started to drink their beer in silence, not knowing what to say. As soon as Dean felt the bitter taste of beer on his tongue, he felt more relaxed.

"Remember when we stayed up all night to prove that we can do that to Sonny?" Elliott asked all of a sudden.

"Yeah." Dean laughed as he recalled the memory. "We were both so tired, so sleepy. But we just had to prove him wrong."

"We played cards, and you told me scary stories of your hunts, and I was absolutely frightened." Elliott said as he laughed softly.

They recalled a few other memories and talked for a few hours in peace. Nobody disturbed them, and they had actual, real fun. They were great friends after all these years. They shared similar experiences and lots of memories.

Hours passed, and Elliott stood up to go to bed.

"I'm going to go to sleep." Elliott said he was feeling a little bit tipsy.

"Me too, man. Goodnight, pal." Dean replied, and he also stood up and started walking towards his room.

"Sweet dreams." He heard Lluott say as he laughed at his stupid friend. He closed his door and found himself surrounded by his things. He'd then remembered that he forgot to turn off the light in the kitchen and turned back to do that.

As he reached the kitchen, he stepped in and noticed that Elliott was sitting by the table with a glass of water in his hand and some pills in the other. Dean frowned as he tried to guess what the spills could be; he was drunk, however. Elliott lifted his head and looked at Dean.

"What pills are you taking?" Dean asked, and Elliott could clearly tell by his voice that he was really drunk.

"Sleeping pill. I have problems with sleeping sometimes, and I'm really tired." He replied.

Dean tilted his head and looked at the pills still in confusion as he saw Elliott take them. Those pills didn't seem familiar to Dean. He took sleeping pills before too, and they didn't look like that. And it wasn't a good idea to take sleeping pills after drinking alcohol.

"Are you sure it's a good idea? You drank alcohol." Dean said in a worried tone.

"Oh, yeah, I didn't drink that much, and I'm really tired."

Dean just nodded, and he believed his friend. Dean was so drunk, he probably just didn't recognize the sleeping pills, and maybe he was so drunk he didn't even realize Elliott wasn't that tipsy. With that thought, Dean went back to his room. He didn't have problems with sleeping that night.

Chapter Text

Elliott and Dean were sitting at the table in the kitchen on a beautiful sunny sunday. They had ordered some chinese food and as soon as their order arrived they rushed into the kitchen to eat.

They had spent the last few days together, Dean showed Eliott atound in the town near the bunker, but since it wasn't so exciting they mostly stayed inside and talked. They watched movies and ate. They had plenty of time to catvh up, however Dean still wasn't brave enough to ask his friends about his past and loved ones.

Dean grabbed the little box that contained his specific order and placed it in front of himself.

"Do you often eat chinese food? " Elliott asked as he opened his box of food.

"Sometimes, I'm kind of a terrible cook. " he said and Elliott laughed.

Dean opned his box and took his for in his hand when all of sudden he heard something unusual. He stopped and immediately put his fork down. He looked up seriously at Elliott who didn't seem to know what's going on.

The loud ringing noise cam from the library of the bunker and its noise filled the whole bunker. They stayed silent and Dean stood up, Elliott followed. When they reached the library Dean saw the old rusty telephone hanging on the wall, ringing.

In Dean's mind the danger mode activated and for a moment he didn't know what to do. Nobody called the bunker. Nobody. No prank callers, no friends. The adress of the bunker wasn't hidden, but nobody called it. Never. He never heard this ringing noise before.

"Nobody ever calls the bunker. Its either someone we know or someone whos planning to introduce himself. " Dean said as he steooed closer to the phone. Elliott was standing still behind him waiting.

Dean grabbed the phone and lifted it to his ear.

"Hello?" Dean asked waiting nervously for someone to reply. He didn't hear an answer but if he listened closely he could barely hear someone's nervous breathing. Or maybe he just imagined that, he couldn't tell for sure.

"Hello? " Dean repeated the question in an annoyed tone. He didn't like to be tricked or played and he felt pathetic for not understanding why was someone falling.

Dean turmed to look at Elliott and his friend shrugged his shoulders. Now that didn't help Dean and he turned back to face the wall while waiting for someone to answer the phone.

"Is there anyone? " He asked but he knew the answer so instead he asked. "Who is there?! " Dean didn't hear an answer but he heard the heavy breaths someone took on the end of the line.

The rhythm of the breathing, the phone call. It all looked so familiar to Dean but just as he was about to realize who was calling the phone call ended with a soft click. Dean felt like he missed something but he just couldn't figure out what.

He placed the phone back to its place and they walked back to the kitchen to finish their lunch. To Dean however something felt off. He felt a lingering emptiness in his stomach and he tried to shake off the feeling, but it didn't work really.

____________________________

"So do you agree with your brother? " Elliott asked out of the blue. They were sitting in the car, Dean driving. They decided to go for an easy hunt not so far away. The road there was only 1 hour long and they were already halfway trough it. The monster they were about to catch was probably ghost according to them.

The last time Dean was hunting a ghost it was with Castiel. The one time when a girl died because Cas didn't say that the ghost was in front of Dean. Dean was supposed to die, he wasn't mad about that. He was angry beacuse a gilr took his place and Dean got her killed. It wasn't gis faukt techinacally but he felt like it.

"What do you mean? " Dean asked as he kept his eyes on the road. There was no music playing in the background, but they could hear rain slowly pounding on the roof of the car.

Elliott cleared hi troath and looked at Dean, feeling already nefvous to hear his answer.

"Not all supernatural beings are monsters. " he then explained.

Dean glanced at his friend quickly and then focused on the road once again. "That's true, I agree with him. "

Elliott rolled his eyes and looked at Dean in pure disbelief. He felt betrayed that his very true frined didn't share the same opinion about supernatural beings. He didn't quite understand how Dean could say that, he couldn't imagine a situation when this statement could be true. And now that he knew how Dean was thinking he wanted to understand it.

"Why? " Elliott simply asked.

Dean took a moment of silence to think. He remembered all the monsters he had killed and then he remembered someone who could never be a monster. Castiel's name ran trough his mind as he recalled all the good memories he shared with him. Cas wasn't a monster. There were some other supernatural beings that Dean didn't consider monsters, some of them were great people. But the true reason he believed that there's still a light in the darkness was beacuse of Cas. Cas' pure heart and genuine intentions were all Dean could think about. Dean taught him humanity and Dean loved seeing the way Cas learned. He showed him movies and songs. He made him try out new foods and watched if he liked or hated the new taste. For example he remembered when he introduced Cas tacos and Cas liked them. However, he didn't like sushi at all, Cas said it tasted like raw fish and Dean said that's the whole point.

Dean didn't even realize that he was smiling, and when he did, he stopped immediately.

"I know some who are good." Dean replied to Elliott's question in a simple way. He knew he couldn't change his friend's mind, so he didn't want to explain it so fully.

"Like who?"

"It doesn't matter." Dean said.

"No, really, it does. You're my only friend and I want to understand the way you think. Who could be so special to make you think some killers aren't murderers?" Elliott said as he raised his voice a bit, speaking loudly and angrily. Elliott felt betrayed, and he wanted to defend his truth. But more than anything, he wanted to change Dean's mind so badly. He wanted Dean to be like him, a killer who asks no questions. And he was planning on doing that.

"An angel, well, probably not anymore, but he was an angel." Dean said quietly. He felt a bit awkward talking about Castiel with others, and he wanted to end this conversation badly.

"An angel?" Elliott seemed to be confused as he frowned and turned his head to face the road.

Dean didn't reply, and in his head this conversation came to an end. He didn't have an idea, though, that in Elliott's it was just starting.

"Dean, you're Dean Winchester. You're the ultimate killer. Why are you so soft for an angel?" Elliott asked, meaning every word he said. He was curious, really. He considered Dean weak if he really did fall for an angel.

Dean took a sharp breath and stopped the car. They reached their destination, and Dean turned the key in the car, stopping the engine completely. Then he exhaled softly, and with a disappointed voice he replied to Elliott.

"You see, I'm not that. I'm not the ultimate killer, and don't call me that again." He said, and Elliott felt awful suddenly. He didn't mean it in a bad way; he was just curious. He heard things about the famous monster killer, Dean Winchester.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it in a bad way."

"How could you mean 'the ultimate killer' in a good way?" Dean asked as his voice cracked by the end of the sentence.

Dean had a strong connection with the phrase 'the ultimate killer.' People had called him that many, many times, and for the longest time he believed it. He really believed that he was the roughest murderer of all until someone changed his mind. But hearing someone call him that again after so long made his heart sink. He felt like he had been lying to himself. He felt like Elliott was right and he was just tricking himself.

He waited for Elliott's reply, but he didn't expect too much. He was hurt that his very own and true friend had called him. Truly and deeply hurt by his words, he tried not to show it. He knew how to hide his feelings, he was very good at doing that.

"You're not weak." Elliott replied. And Dean looked at him confused. That was the positive way? Really? If he wasn't the ultimate killer, then he was weak? He shook his head and got out of the car. He felt the rain slowly wet his clothes and his hair. He hurried inside the sheriff's office, leaving Elliott and his stupid point of view behind.

______________

Elliott was dreaming of his little sister again. For the fourth time in a row that night. It wasn't really a dream, it was a memory coming back. In his memory he was sitting on the floor with a Barney doll in his hand. His little sister, Sheila, was sitting in front of him with a doll in her hand as well. She was only 4 years old, and Elliott had just turned 8 years old a few days before that day.

Sheila was wearing a pink dress, and her hair was in a bun. They were playing Barbies together. Sheila laughed at something her brother said to her, and Elliott admired her little baby sister. Then Elliott heard a loud bang coming from downstairs, and he raised her head towards the opened door. He turned to look at Sheila, who seemed to be scared. He saw her expression, and his heart ached. Terrified, scared, broken.

Elliott stood up, walked to the door, and closed it. He then heard another loud noise, and he squinted his eyes. He heard his mother's screams coming from downstairs as he turned the key in the door, locking it. He looked at Sheila, who was hugging her doll with a frightened expression on her little face. Elliott walked over to the old radio and turned it on. He turned the volume up and smiled at her.

"I don't want to play barbies anymore. Let's dance instead." Elliott said as he pulled his sister up from the cold floor. He started moving his body and grabbed her hands gently.

Sheila dropped her Barbie and started jumping and dancing around the room. She smiled at his brother, admiring him deeply. The sudden noise from outside of the door made them both face the door immediately. Sheila stopped dancing and took a step back. His brother turned the volume even higher and continued to dance.

Sheila started moving her little body once again, and she looked so happy. Elliott didn't want her to remember her childhood badly. He wanted Sheila to have her childhood full of good memories. So he played barbies with her. He fed her. He danced with her. He took her to kindergarten. He took care of her.

The dream ended there, and he suddenly woke up sweating and breathing heavily. As he looked around, he realized he was still in Dean's car. They were driving to the place where the last victim was found killed after they had interrogated the local sheriff.

"You okay?" Dean asked him, and Elliott could hear that his voice was full of agony and pain. Elliott knew that his earlier comments about Dean being the ultimate killer hurt his feelings, but he couldn't do anything about that now. He knew Dean was hurt and that what he said was mean, but he didn't think Dean would react this way.

"Yeah." Elliott replied, and he looked over to Dean, who was driving the car. He seemed a bit worried, so Elliott explained, "Just a bad dream. Do you ever have any?"

Elliott heard Dean taking a deep breath as he turned his head towards the road again.

"Every time I close my eyes." Dean replied, and his voice cracked. Elliott felt bad for even asking such a question when he remembered all the times when he would comfort Dean after a nightmare back when they were young.

Silence hovered over them for a few minutes, and Elliott broke the silence.

"So where is your angel now? What's his name?" He asked,he was curious.

Dean was surprised at the questions and didn't know if he even wanted to answer them, but somewhere deep down he was dying to talk about Cas.

"I don't know where he is, but his name is Castiel." Dean replied quietly, and he didn't take his eyes off of the road.

Elliott sighed and looked at Dean. He saw that his friend's eyes were fixated on the road and the expression on his face seemed desperate, but since it was already dark, he couldn't see perfectly.

"What made a murderer stand out of all the killers?" Elliott asked.

Dean stayed silent for a moment, ignoring that Elliott was calling Cas a murderer. Elliott was saying that a killer is a killer, and Dean was making him special when he was the same as every killer ever. He thought for a moment and recalled all the things that made Castiel stand out. That made him special, because he was. Castiel was special to Dean.

"He's clueless,he's pure with a golden heart. His hands may not be clean, but his heart is."

"Is that it? " Elliott asked, he was waiting for a better answer. Not for something he could say to many people. But for Dean, this was the perfect answer. This was the answer he was looking for for so long. This was the answer he spent so much time searching for on the wall of his room. He missed Castiel, and he let himself wonder where he could be for a bit. Then reality pulled him back to his place.

"This is something you can't explain. You just know it." Dean said, and he concluded the conversation.

Elliott seemed confused, and he didn't ask more questions. He suspected Dean had become weaker than he used to be and didn't want to upset him once again.

Dean kept driving in silence until they reached their destination.

Chapter Text

The night was cold. It had stopped raining a few minutes ago, but Dean could smell that typical fresh scent in the air. He was wearing his leather jacket, although he felt slightly cold. He was standing next to Elliott, who was wearing a suit.

They just arrived at the scene where the last victim was found. They had no idea what creature they were dealing with, but they both suspected it was something supernatural, so they decided to investigate.

They started walking towards the scene. Dean bent down to step under the yellow caution tape that said CRIME SCENE—DO NOT CROSS! As Dean walked closer to where the body was found, his eyes widened. The body was not there anymore, but everything around it stayed untouched.

"Damnit!" Elliott murmured quietly as he saw what surprised Dean so much.

Dean squatted down and put his fingers on the cold asphalt. He examined the angel wings carved in the asphalt.

His surprise vanished, and fear took over its place. No. No. No. No. No. If angels are dying, Castiel might be dead by now. And if that was the case, Dean would never forgive himself. He would never move on. He looked around looking for answers, but all he saw was his friend.

"An angel was killed. This is not just any supernatural case. I feel like there's something deeper to this." Dean said as he turned his head and looked up at Elliott.

"Yeah. I don't think we should investigate this case, buddy." He then said that made Dean stand up immediately.

"What do you mean?" He asked with a serious face.

"Look, someone or something is killing supernatural creatures. Someone is doing OUR job, so I think we should just let them do it." He said, and Dean took a step back. He didn't recognize his friend in that moment; Elliott was talking complete bullshit. Dean knew that his opinion on this subject was different from his, but these comments still surprised him.

"No." Dean nodded his head and looked back at the wings on the ground.

If angels are getting killed, it could mean Cas getting killed, Dean thought. He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't just sit in peace and watch as someone he shares such a past with dies. He decided he will solve the case, with or without Elliott.

Elliott's face shifted; he seemed confused. He didn't understand why Dean would be so stuck up. Then it hit him in the head as he realized why he wanted this case now even more. Castiel. His stupid little angel lover.

"Oh, I know what this is about." Elliott said as he faced Dean. Dean looked up at him, and he knew what was about to come. "It's about Castiel again, right? You want to find him. You're afraid he might be the next victim. But Dean, he makes you weak. You don't see that, but I do!"

"You don't get to talk about him like that!" Dean raised his voice as they argued. He was ready to defend Cas' name.

"You've become fragile. Some words are enough to break you, but don't worry! You can fix this, okay? You need to let him go, and you won't be weak ever again." Elliott said, and he sounded insane. Obsessed.

"What are you even talking about, Elliott?! Call me weak again, and I'll show you how weak I am." Dean said, his voice sounding cold and harsh. He stooped closer to Elliott, locking eyes with him, and Elliott saw Dean's eyes darken.

"We investigate the case, and you stay silent. You won't talk about him. You won't ask questions. Understood?" Dean said, not even blinking once.

Elliott swallowed and took a step back. He shook his head, and with a low voice he said, "I'm sorry, but I'm not going to help you with that, Dean."

Dean didn't answer; he didn't know what to say, so he just turned to examine the crime scene again. When he looked back, he noticed an angel blade. He picked it up, and as he held it in his hands, he read the name painted on it with blood.

'Malachi'

Dean recognized that name, but he didn't know what it meant. The amgek who died wasn't him. It was someone else, someone Dean didn't know personally.

This might be the next victim. Dean thought as he walked back to the car. He put the blade in a dirty rag and put it in the back of the car.

Then, he climbed in the car, finding Elliott sitting next to him. He looked at him angrily, his eyes telling more than his words could. They both stayed silent as Dean started driving once again. But this time, their destination was the bunker, where Dean could investigate deeply. He planned to find Cas. And he needed time for that. Now that he knew who the next victim might be, he needed to find Malachi.

He was so angry at Elliott. He wanted to send him away honestly, but he didn't have anyone else. And then he would be just alone again. He was tired of being alone, of being lonely.

__________________

Back in the bunker, they both sat down in the library by the table. They sat in front of each other, both reading something on their laptops. Elliott gave in; he didn't want to upset Dean, he didn't want to make him mad, so he helped him. He didn't put too much effort into helping, though.

Long minutes turned into even longer hours, and they didn't find anything about Malachi yet. Elliott suddenly stood up and stretched his back.

"We should continue this tomorrow, pal. I'm too tired." He said, and Dean looked up at him in disbelief. Dean wasn't going to give up. He needed to find Malachi, and if Elliott wasn't going to help, he was going to do it alone.

"No. I'm not resting until I find that angel." Dean replied and looked back at his computer. He could sense that Elliott shook his head, and Dean heard the steps fading away as his friend left the room.

He kept focusing on the computer, and he didn't let himself concentrate on anything else. He read and read and read until he found something. A name. A place. Topeka, Kansas.

It wasn't even far away. He immediately closed his laptop and got up. He ran to his room and grabbed a few pieces of equipment he might need. He ran towards the garage, and he passed in front of Elliott's door. He stopped for a moment, thinking maybe he shouldn't leave him here. Maybe he shouldn't go alone to such a dangerous place. Dean didn't know what to expect, and he would definitely have a bigger chance of survival if Elliott was with him.

He stepped closer to the bed and changed his mind. He decided to go alone, not wanting to listen to any words his friend had to say. He wasn't interested in listening to how much Elliott despised him. How much Elliott hated Cas.

He went to the garage and got in his car. He turned the key to start the engine, and he stepped on the accelerator. He left the bunker, and he was ready to find Malachi.

The drive from Lebanon, where the bunker was, to Topeka, where Malachi probably was, was around 3 hours long. Dean hasn't closed his eyes for almost a day now. And he only realized that when the sun came up.

He put some music on in the background to distract his thoughts from worrying. Radiohead was playing on the radio, and he didn't mind. He let the music take over his mind slowly. He didn't recognize the song, but he tried to listen to the lyrics.

After a long car drive, he stopped the car in front of a cheap motel and stopped the car. He got out to see the place where Malachi was last seen alive. An angel in a motel. He opened the trunk and grabbed the angel blade with Malachi's name on it. The bloody name wasn't so readable anymore, but he hoped it would be enough proof for Malachi. Dean's plan was that he would show the angel the blade to warn him, and then he would use Malachi as bait.

He walked into the motel's reception part. An older lady was sitting behind the counter, and she smiled at Dean when he stepped in.

"Good morning! Can I assist you with anything?" The lady asked; she seemed excited to talk to Dean. He frowned and pursed his lips together, then forced himself to smile at the lady too.

"Good morning! I'm looking for a man named Malachi. He's tall, with brown eyes and brown hair." Dean asked, smiling; he wanted to be perceived as a friendly man. But the lady looked at him with suspicious eyes, and Dean quickly grabbed his ID from his pocket. "Oh, I'm Agent Reed from the FBI. I'm investigating a case, and he might be the next victim, I think." He added, and the lady looked down at the computer.

"Hmm…" She murmured, looking for something, while Dean waited patiently. He hadn't even given himself time to realize how exhausted he really was. He suddenly felt the last horribly long almost 24 hours of weight on his shoulders as the Kady spoke up again. "Yes, Agent, there is a man named Malachi in room 53. Here's a key for you to make things easier." The woman handed Dean the keys, and he left the room.

Outside it was a chilly morning considering the fact that it was only 5.34. Dean took a deep breath, feeling the warm rays of sun on his skin. He took a moment to rest as he felt his head pounding with fatigue. He was just so tired.

He opened his eyes and scanned the parking lot; he looked for room 53. When his eyes finally landed on the motel room, he began walking towards it. As he was getting closer with each step, he took a gun out of his pocket and held it in front of himself.

He reached the door and lowered his weapon. He took his key out and turned it. The door slowly opened with a soft creak as he stepped in. In the room it was dark; only the outside light lit up the room, coming from the opened door. The light was just enough to make visible the scene in front of Dean.

His eyes widened in shock, and he lowered his gun now completely. He turned around quickly, still in shock, and closed the door. Now it was completely dark, and he didn't even know if he wanted to turn the light on. The darkness gave him a sense of comfort the light couldn't. He closed his eyes for a slight moment as he prepared himself for the worst.

He put his fingers on the wall and followed it until he reached the switch. He pressed it, and suddenly light appeared, and every inch of the room became visible. Dean felt his stomach turn. He felt sick. Looking around, scanning the place, he saw the maroon blood cover everything around him.

He stepped closer and saw the remains of the body. Malachi. Dean could tell that the angel was tortured for a long period of time. Dean suddenly recalled his time in hell. He remembered being tortured and torturing others. He felt goosebumps as the way he made people suffer appeared in his memories. He shook his head, trying to forget, trying to shake off the awful feeling.

Malachi's face was almost unrecognizable. His body was covered in scars, bruises, wounds, and blood. His right leg was missing, and when Dean looked around to find it, he saw it hanging on the wall. And when he saw what was on the wall next to it, his heartbeats quickened.

'Dean, stop digging. You know who's next.'

Dean stopped breathing, and his eyes opened wide. His mouth opened, and he didn't dare to move. He felt his hands shake as fear took over his mind. He swallowed loudly as he read the words written on the wall with blood over and over again.

'Dean, stop digging. You know who's next.'

Dean knew what was coming, but to find proof, he turned around looking for the angel blade. The last time they saw the last victim, Malachi's name was written on a blade. If Castiel was next, his name should be carved in a blade as well, Dean thought.

Silence filled the room, and he kneeled down to toss the body aside, looking for the blade. His suit became red from the dirty blood, and soon his hands were covered in the liquid too.

Dean was desperate; he felt like he couldn't breathe. He grabbed his tie, pulling it from his neck, trying to calm his breathing. It didn't work.

He continued to look for the blade, and he was frightened because he couldn't find it anywhere. He looked at Malachi's face once again, and he felt like he was about to throw up. He was disgusted by the body lying so close to him. And he was even more terrified of what the next body would look like so close to him.

He couldn't bear the thought of Castiel suffering. He felt like if that ever happened, that would be his fault. His actions got faster as he felt the need to find the fucking blade as fast as he could. He felt a warm tear slip from his eyes, and he saw it land on the bloody ground.

He stared at the floor, not knowing what to do next. He thought he had found the blade with Malachi's name on it just in time, and now it turned out it was too late. Maybe Cas is already dead, and if that's so, Dean didn't want to see his body. But there was still hope in his heart that his beloved "friend" was alive. Dean had to find him.

He didn't have time to waste. He couldn't spend one more minute looking for the stupid blade when the truth was written on the wall so clearly. Castiel was next. And as sad as Dean was to admit it, he was just as determined to find him.

He stood up and glanced down at his own body. His suit was now covered in the color of blood. And his hands were too. He took a step towards the door as he noticed the blade hanging from the door. The blade with Castiel's name on it. Dean closed his eyes, and he couldn't believe what was happening to him.

He took a look back at the room, and he knew in that moment that he would never ever ever forget the view of that room. With his fast-beating heart, he left the room in complete silence. He was truly traumatized.

As he reached the reception counter, his hands were shaking. He felt the lady's eyes on him, watching him in horror. Dean put the keys down on the counter harshly, his hands leaving a red mark on the counter from the blood. He didn't say anything, and the woman stayed silent too.

Dean turned around and walked out, leaving bloody footprints on the dirty floor.

After getting in his car, he started the car as he noticed his once steady hands were now shaking. They were shaking out of fear. He was so scared for Cas. He was so scared he might die. And he felt especially guilty for not looking for him when he had the chance. Dean decided to find Cas whatever it takes.

Chapter Text

Castiel opened his eyes, feeling the sweat drip from his forehead. He swallowed, and he felt the need to cough. He closed his eyes tightly, feeling dizzy and a quiet sense of pain pulsing in his head.

He then tried to gather himself into a sitting position only to recognize the cold chain holding his hands together behind the chair where he was sitting. He felt the cold metal cut into his wrists as he tried to move. He looked around, trying to scan the room with his exhausted eyes.

He soon found himself surrounded by the consuming darkness, and fear twisted his mind. He was just a human after all now. So vulnerable and weak. If he was still an angel, surely he would be concerned but never this scared.

He felt a tear wet his skin as it dropped on the ground. There was nothing he could recognize in the complete darkness. He felt his heartbeats quicken and his breathing getting heavier. He tried to calm himself down, but he was hopeless.

He had no faith. He had no hope. He knew it would be the end for him. Nobody was coming to save him. A brief moment where the picture of Dean Winchester appeared of him brought him a sense of comfort. But just as fast as the memory of his face appeared, it vanished, leaving Cas alone and scared for his life.

He felt his hands shake under the chains, and he turned his head to face the pitch-black ceiling. He scrunched his nose and slightly opened his mouth, tears now falling constantly from his mesmerizing blue eyes. Like the ocean, his blue eyes were full of salty liquid.

The desperate expression didn't seem to disappear, no matter how hard he tried. He didn't say a word; he didn't have to. The look on his face spoke more than words ever could.

Where was he? He wasn't ready to die. Not yet. He kept his glance on the ceiling as he silently began to pray. Even without his faith, he hoped for some kind of miracle to happen. He hoped for some kind of savior to walk through the doors and let him see the sunlight just once again.

He asked God to help him; he repeated the same words in his head a million times, and when he didn't feel anything, he asked himself, Why did he even do it?. God left. He wasn't around anymore. Dean wasn't around anymore; nobody could save him.

He knew that his little prayer wasn't going to save him. He knew death would come for him and nobody would even notice his disappearance. He was hurt by the thought that Dean and Sam wouldn't ever know what happened to him. There were so many things left unsaid, and he wished he could go back to just say it out loud. But he couldn't, and the cruel reality pulled him back just in time.

The sound of the door opening pulled his attention towards the door as he also turned his head to face it. The sudden lightness almost blinded him, making him squint his eyes, waiting for them to adjust to the sudden change.

His reflex kicked in as he tried to raise one hand to cover the light, but he realized he wasn't able to do that. He felt the teardrops on his skin dry up, and he opened his eyes once again.

He couldn't see the face of the person standing in front of him. He couldn't even see whether it was a male or female in front of him. He tried to see their face, but the door was soon closed as the person entered the room. Castiel couldn't see. He was in the darkness with someone, and he couldn't breathe normally.

He stayed silent, trying to listen to the steps, but he couldn't hear anything. He could almost feel the adrenaline rush in his blood, and he felt defeated.

He has always been the one fighting and never actually giving up. He fought wars and helped people. He killed people, but he never gave up. And he gave everything he had and still lost. He felt like all his actions were worth nothing. He felt like his life was pointless. 'God works in mysterious ways,' they said. But he recognized that it was just a stupid thing humans made up to feel better when things weren't working out. Because in the end things were never working out. Humans wanted to believe that they would have some sort of prize at the end of the road. They wanted to believe that they didn't suffer for nothing. But in reality, they absolutely did, and this process is called life. People suffer through their lives hoping they will be rewarded after all, but they get nothing in return.

Castiel suddenly felt a sharp object touching his skin. The new cut under his right eye started to bleed; he could feel the blood drop onto the floor. But he didn't cry; he didn't feel the need to cry for help because he knew nobody was coming to help. He knew he would die forgotten and lonely in a place only God knows. And God didn't care, so it didn't matter after all.

Would it be a big loss, though? he thought. Who would grieve him? Who would long for him? The only thing he felt sorry for was the priest. Castiel promised him he would thank him for his help one day, when he got through the suffering and reached the peaceful side of life. But he wasn't going to get there ever, and he wasn't going to say thank you to the parson.

As he closed his eyes, he imagined Dean coming through that door and freeing him. He imagined seeing his eyes for one last time.

His thoughts were cut off by a loud noise; the person who captured him hit him in the head. He felt dizzy, and he wished he would black out already. But he wasn't so lucky; he felt the next strike on the side of his head, and he could feel the blood running down the side of his face.

The next hit made him whine in pain, but he didn't scream or shout. It was a quiet suffering for him, and deep down he completely agreed with the person punishing him. Although Cas didn't know their reasons or intentions, he knew he deserved to be hit, when in reality he didn't.

He felt every punch; he wanted to feel it. But it hurt him so much, he was out of breath. The pain lingered over his whole body. For the first time ever, he could feel his ribs, and it wasn't a nice feeling.

Soon, soaked from his own blood, he blacked out. He lost consciousness, his head falling on his shoulders, his hands not trying to break free from the cold chains anymore.

[Flashback begins]

Castiel was holding a baby. He was holding a little human in his arms so tightly. The tiny hands reaching for his face, the tiny fingers touching his stubble. Castiel was smiling at the little creature in his arms. The baby laughed and smiled at him. It was a little girl, but he didn't know her name; he didn't ask her parents.

Cas felt like the baby was so fragile, he could feel her bones. He held her close to his chest as he feared he would accidentally drop the baby at any minute. He leaned closer to the smiling little girl and gave her a kiss on her cheek. Castiel felt so happy in that moment, like he couldn't stop smiling.

Does every human baby do this? Smile at strangers and make them feel loved? If so, Cas felt like he needed one immediately.

He laughed at the girl, and a woman appeared in front of him. He lifted his head to look at him and realized it was her mother.

"Thank you for taking care of her while I talked to Father John." The lady said and watched her child lying so peacefully in Cas' arms.

"It was my pleasure. I've never held a baby in my arms before." Castiel admitted, and the lady raised her eyebrows. She seemed to be surprised.

"Well, I guess you just have the natural talent for kids." The woman laughed a bit and took the baby from Cas' hands.

"Does she always smile at strangers?" Cas asked as he handed her the baby. He smiled at her and waved goodbye to the little one.

The lady lifted her head to look at Cas, and she shook her head. "No." She replied and smiled at him smiling.

Then she turned around and left. Cas watched as the two of them walked out of the door, leaving the small church.

"I saw you holding the baby. She looked nice in your hands." Castiel heard Father John's deep voice coming from behind, and he turned around to face him.

Cas chuckled and shook his head, smiling. "She was so cute," he replied.

It was already dark outside, and this was the last mass of the day, so nobody else would be coming here. Father John would leave in a few minutes, and Cas would be left alone.

"I got you something." Father John said, and he turned around. The priest walked in the backroom of the church, where Cas wasn't allowed to follow.

Cas stepped closer to a window and looked out patiently. He was waiting for the parson to come back and show him what he had gotten for Cas.

As he was staring out the window, although it was dark, he noticed something. The light of the lamp close to the road illuminated the streets. And he saw snow. He recognized it immediately. He couldn't believe his eyes. It was snowing! He had never seen snow with his own eyes ever, and he was so happy to be able to see it now.

Out of his extreme excitability, a shy smile appeared on his lips, and he turned around to inform Father John, his only friend, of the sudden change in the weather. But as soon as he turned to look for the priest, his eyes widened as he noticed a man with a black mask covering his face standing in front of Cas.

He tried to take a step back, but since his back was already touching the wall of the church, he couldn't get far away. His hands grabbed the window sill; fear took over his mind. He felt his heartbeats quicken, and his breathing got heavier and heavier with each moment.

It all happened so quickly. He didn't have time to think. He didn't have time to defend himself. His racing thoughts were cut off by a hit on his head by something that looked like a baseball bat.

He collapsed on the floor, and he immediately held up his hands to cover his head. He tried to avoid the next punches, unsuccessfully.

As he lay there, scared to death, he opened his eyes, and he saw the door of the backroom of the church slightly opened. He didn't see Father John's full body, but he recognized his hand. He saw his hand lying there and panicked. He didn't know whether the priest was alive or not, but he hoped he was. He couldn't handle if the man died in such a way.

Cas took the punches until he felt the boot of the man on his jaw. He would feel the pain suddenly appearing in many parts of his fragile body. He thought of that baby girl. He was grateful they left before all this happened.

The next moment, with the last kick, he lost consciousness. He was lying there; he seemed to be lifeless.

He wasn't self-aware when the man dragged his body out of the church.
He wasn't self-aware when his body was out in the trunk of a car.
He wasn't self-aware when he was being tied up to a chair.
He wasn't self-aware when the man put Cas' hand under cold chains.

The self-hating angel was self-aware when he finally understood nobody was coming to save him.

Chapter Text

It was late at night when Dean Winchester first read the name Father John Martin. After the devastating scene in the motel room, Dean drove back to the bunker in silence. He couldn't forget the color of the blood and the message on the wall.

'Dean, stop digging. You know who's next.'

He rode home trapped in the Imapa with the consuming silence, and when he arrived at the bunker, the place he called home felt like it had nothing for him. It was cold, and he didn't hear Elliott's movement. When he walked around, trying to find his friend, hoping he would help him, he didn't blink once. He couldn't; the actions of the night traumatized him so badly, he couldn't close his eyes. Because whenever he did, he relived the moment again and again. Finding the dagger with a name on it. Seeing the message.

He walked around, but Elliott was nowhere to be found. Dean would have needed someone to comfort him, to help him find Cas. And to tell him everything was going to be okay. But Elliott wasn't there. He thought of calling Sam, but he didn't want to upset him. Dean didn't want to force his brother into helping Dean. Because that would mean that Sam would be a hunter again, which Dean would never forgive himself for.

So instead, he went directly to his room and closed the door. His eyes were still frozen, and his breathing sounded mechanical. He turned on the shower water and adjusted it to be as cold as it could.

He didn't take his clothes off. He didn't close his eyes. He let the water wet his garments and hair. When he felt goosebumps all over his body, he didn't stop; he sat down in the shower and slowly understood everything that happened that night. He remembered the blood and his name on the blade and buried his face in his hands.

Tears came running from his eyes, and they blended together with the cold water. The warm teardrops turned cold as they mixed with the water, and soon he found himself sitting in the library with a laptop in front of him.

He couldn't quite recall the exact moment he got out of the shower; he just knew he did. And now he was sitting there, his clothes wet and water dripping from his hair, looking for any information about Castiel.

He first searched up the name Castiel Novak, and then he realized he didn't know what name Cas would give, if he did give any.

After some research, he found the name Castiel on a small, unknown website. It was a site for local church updates. It included every church in the area with the parson's and some workers names on it.

He didn't know why he clicked on the website because he couldn't find Cas' name there directly, but it said the site included the searched name, so he did it anyway.

"Garden City Community Church" He read the words out loud as he continued to immerse himself in the new information.

Father John Martin, the local priest of the church, is 54 years old with a rich history of religion. The workers of the church are Angela (now retired) and Castiel.

There was a longer paragraph including the times when the masses are held. The text also asked for help and donations kindly.

Dean didn't know what to think. This was the first decent thing he had found so far, but it all seemed so weird. The Cas he knew was working in a church? Why would he, and how did he find a job? With all these doubts in his head, he realized he didn't have anything else.

He searched up the place, Garden City, and frowned when he saw it was in Kansas. He raised his brows when he noticed that the place was only 3 hours and 52 minutes from him. He couldn't believe his eyes.

Castiel could be anywhere in the whole world. Anywhere. And he was on the same continent as Dean. Cas was not only on the same continent but also in the same country and in the very same state too. Garden City was so close, only a 4-hour drive, and Dean didn't know.

Guilt broke his heart as he blamed himself. He should've just searched up his name before. If he did so, now he wouldn't be in danger, and everything would be alright. But he didn't, and he knew he had no time to think about what-ifs.

He closed his laptop and stood up suddenly, but as he did, fatigue set in and he grabbed the table to hold on. He almost fell. He assumed it was because he hadn't eaten and hadn't drunk anything in a while. But maybe it was because he had been awake for almost 30 hours. That's more than a day. However, he didn't have time to waste with sleeping. He HAD to find Castiel, and he was scared to death he wouldn't find him in time. Dean knew he would find Cas. He was only scared because he was worried he wouldn't find him alive.

The world went dark in front of his eyes, like he was blinded; he took a step back and leaned on the desk with his whole weight.

"You okay, Dean?" He heard the familiar deep voice as he recognized Elliott was back. His surroundings earned their colors back, and the darkness vanished.

"Hey, I'm just a bit tired. I'm fine, though." Dean replied as he saw Elliott walk over to him. Elliott's face showed Dean how worried he clearly was.

"Where have you been?" Dean asked, his voice cracking by the end of the question. His friend frowned but didn't answer. Dean, waiting for his answer, grabbed his arm. "Where were you, Elliott?" Dean's voice was shaking.

"I… I went out to get beer." His words seemed so distant, and Dean knew something was off. Dean didn't believe him in that moment. He couldn't explain why, but he felt lied to. He didn't mention it, though; he ignored his answer.

Dean let go of his friend's arm and started walking with heavy steps toward the entry door.

"Where are you going?" Elliott asked as he quickly hurried to walk with him.

"I need to find him. Now." Dean said he tried to keep his eyes open, but he was so tired.

"Who? What are you talking about?"

"Castiel. He's the next victim."

Elliott's eyes widened as his heart ached for Dean. He didn't know this so-called Castiel, but he could see Dean's eyes when he talked about him. Maybe Elliott considered Dean weak, but he still felt sorry for Dean. He knew exactly what losing a loved one feels like.

"And you know that how?" Elliott tried not to show how sorry he felt because he didn't want Dean to feel hopeless, even though Elliott had already suspected Cas was dead.

Dean stopped and turned to face Elliott. His eyes were sad and defeated, but there was still a slight flicker of hope in them. Dena didn't look at him; he stared at the floor while he kept playing with his shaking hands.

"I went after Malachi. Found him in a motel in Topeka. Dead. I saw… There was a message just for me" Dean closed his eyes, and he could recall every part of that haunting scene in his mind clearly. "'Dean, stop digging. You know who's next.'"

He kept his eyes closed, praying to God that when he would open them, he would realize it was all just part of one of his terrible nightmares. But when he did open them, he knew that it would become part of a memory that will definitely appear in his nightmares later.

"I'm so sorry, Dean." He heard his friend say it, and he chose not to reply. Dean walked out and stopped by his car. He looked up at the clear afternoon sky as he tried not to sob. A few salty tears slipped from his eyes, but he wiped them away quickly. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to face Elliott.

"I'm going with you. I'm helping you to find your angel." Elliott said as he pulled Dean closer and hugged him. "You can count on me, buddy." Dean felt a single tear run down his cheek as he buried his face in his best friend's shoulder. Dean didn't pull away; he hadn't had a genuine hug in too long, and he was too touch-starved to pull away anyways.

"I'll drive you rest." Elliott said as they climbed in the car. Murdock was the one driving while the Winchester brother had some sleep on the seat next to his friend.

The drive there didn't take long. It was only 4 hours, and without stopping, they managed to arrive in 3 and a half hours. They didn't really speak, except when Dean told every detail about the case to Elliott.

"What does he look like?" Elliott asked after Dean woke up from his short sleep. Dean didn't suffer from any nightmares this time, so he did actually rest for a bit. The time he had just spent sleeping was enough to be ready for anything.

The sudden question surprised Dean, and he continued to stare outside the window. It was late afternoon, and the sun was already setting. They drove past farms surrounded by smaller hills, and it all looked so typically American countryside-coded. The dark green forests and horses by the road made Dean feel less alone. He could imagine a whole life like that. Taking care of animals and spending the sunsets watching the beautiful view of the hills from his porch. Watching how the kids play with the animals and then having a big family dinner. He smiled at the thought, and his smile only disappeared when he realized he imagined all these things with Castiel. The house, the sunsets, the animals, the kids. And Cas was not there.

The harsh and cold reality pulled him back as he turned his head from the windows towards Elliott.

"What?" he finally asked.

"What does he look like? Your angel?" His angel.

"He's uhh, he has dark brown hair and deep ocean blue eyes. He's not taller than me, and he wears a trench coat all the time. He used to." He corrected himself as he felt like he just got punched by reality.

Elliott nodded, and he sounded so confident when he said, "We will find him, Dean."

"I know. He just won't be alive."

✡

The air was cold when Dean and Elliott stepped out of the car. It was snowing, which was weird, but Dean didn't know why. Dean looked around and examined the empty, dark streets around the small church. The building looked old; the white painting wasn't so white anymore. The doors looked rusty, and Dean had a hard time believing that they were at the right place.

They took out their guns from their pockets and started walking towards the big doors of the small building. So this was the place where Castiel spent his time since he turned human? It all felt so unreal.

Dean grabbed the door handle and pushed it open. He was surprised when he saw that the building was open. Anyone could walk in and steal anything.

But as he walked in, he realized there was nothing to steal from this place. The pews looked modest, and the painting in the center of the old church seemed like a copy. Nobody would want to steal any of this. He heard Elliott's steps behind him as he looked around and saw a few things on a pew in the back of the church.

He walked closer; they went in separate directions, hoping they would find something that would give them a lead.

But as Dean leaned closer to the pew, his heart broke as he recognized someone's daily objects lying there. The toothbrush and the pillow seemed like someone had left them there, like he was rushing. A piece of bread next to a few dollars and some used, dirty clothes left him speechless.

"Dean?" He heard Elliott say his name, and he turned to find a small backroom of the building. As he took a step closer, he saw a body lying there, not moving at all. For a moment his breathing stopped, but he was quick to realize that it wasn't Cas.

He kneeled down to the older man, and he recognized him from the website. Father John Martin. This confirmed to Dean that he was probably looking for Cas in the right place. Dean touched his wrist, and he calmed down a bit when he saw he still had a pulse.

He tried to shake the man a bit, gently, and he noticed that his friend sat down next to him.

"Sir?" Dean tried to wake the man.

The older man slowly opened his eyes, and the look on his face told them he was scared for his life. The man's eyes were filled with pure fear as Dean helped him sit up.

"I'm Dean Winchester. I'm looking for Castiel. Do you know him?" He asked, and the expression on the priest's face seemed to soften. He nodded slowly as he put his right arm on his head. As the parson looked at his hands, his eyes widened at the maroon color of blood. Dean noted to himself that since the man's head was bleeding, they had to take him to the hospital.

But he wanted to know every detail this person knew about Cas. Dean didn't have to ask; the man started speaking by himself. Maybe he saw in Dean's eyes how desperate he was. Or maybe he just wanted to get to the hospital faster.

"He lives here. I got him a job at the gas station and brought him food whenever I had the chance." Dean didn't take any breaths; he didn't move. He stayed silent and still. "He's a great person, Dean. I've heard about you, I assume."

Dean's heart skipped a beat at the priest's words, and he swallowed his breath.

"Where is he right now?" Dean asked, and his voice was shaking.

"Someone came in and hit me. I fell, and I think he took him. I heard that the kidnapper hurt him, but he didn't cry." He looked down at the floor where Cas' blood was, and Dean noticed a tear slip from his eyes as the man continued. "I saw earlier a dark green Italian car stop by the church, but I didn't think any of this would happen. I am so deeply sorry."

Dean stood up and turned around; he didn't want them to see him cry. But as he was standing there, he saw blood on the floor just in front of the window. Outside of the window he could see the reflection of the white snow, and it made him wonder whether Cas had had the chance to see snow. Dean remembered when Castiel told him how much he wanted to experience snow one day.

Dean turned back, and with a demanding voice he said, "You take Father John to the hospital, and I... I'll find Cas."

He started walking out of the building but stopped halfway and looked back at the priest. His eyes softened, and he said, "I don't blame you, Father John. None of this is your fault. Thank you for looking out for him when I wasn't here."

Father John smiled softly, wrinkles appearing around his eyes along with his smile lines. The priest nodded slowly and said, "He's a good man; save him!"

And with that, Dean left Elliott and the older man in the church, knowing that however it ends, Dean will get through it. If Castiel's dead, I don't care if I die too.

Chapter Text

Castiel was lying on the floor of the dark room, lonely and hopeless. He wasn't chained up anymore; he didn't remember when, but the cuffs disappeared from his hands, and somehow he was now lying on the cold ground.

It concerned him that he didn't remember a few things since getting abducted. He couldn't recall how he got chained, and he got on the ground. Maybe his kidnapper kicked him hard enough in the head that it caused him memory loss. Fortunately, he remembered everything from his past, and somehow it hurt him even more. All the memories flooding back with each punch and cut.

But the man who kidnapped him wasn't in the room right now. Cas wasn't sure of that though; he suspected he was alone because no one was hurting him.

His face was pressed tightly to the cold floor, and his eyes were slightly opened. He was lying on his stomach, his head turned to the right, and his hands were lying next to his body. He was exhausted and weak; he felt like he couldn't move.

The blood dripping from too many parts of his body left a fetid smell. He was sweating so much, but he was still freezing. He could tell that this was the end for him, since no one was coming to save him. He grieved for himself and the life he could've had. He grieved the words he left unsaid.

The monotone sound of water dripping from afar made him crazy. The tiny drops of water fell at the same intervals. He didn't hear anything else, other than that. His own breathing sounded so silent, he felt like it could've been someone else's, but it wasn't.

The moments passed as the minutes turned into hours. The tired body of Castiel lay there, still. Sometimes he fainted, but he gained consciousness soon after.

This time, the loud approaching footsteps made him burst his eyes open. Fear, his now only partner, sat beside him, silently stroking his hair while whispering fearful things in his ear. The terrified look on his face didn't change when he heard the man enter the room.

Light illuminated the small room for a few seconds, but just as his eyes were about to adjust to the sudden changes, the light disappeared and darkness took over its place.

He heard the man squat beside him as he felt the fingers of his kidnapper touch his chin. He couldn't lift his head up, so as soon as the man let go of him, Cas' head fell back on the hard ground.

"Castiel." He heard the unfamiliar deep voice say his name, and he got goosebumps. Then a quick laughter followed and ended soon.

"The angel of Thursday. The one who rebelled and sacrificed everything. And all for nothing."

The man laughed and reached out to touch his hair. He grabbed Cas' shoulders and pulled him up into a sitting position. Cas leaned on the wall behind him, his hands resting next to his body.

"You know, everything you did was actually pointless." The man said as he stood up; Cas could only hear his boots as he started walking around the room. "I mean, you're here dying. All alone. You ruined so many lives for a human, and what's your prize?"

Cas couldn't bring himself to say anything. He didn't have a good reply to this. He did ruin many, many lives, lives of humans and angels as well. He rebelled for Dean, and in return he got nothing but endless pain and suffering.

"See, you're quiet now. You know I'm right, Castiel." The way he said his name made Castiel feel defeated, like this was the last straw. He couldn't even cry anymore; he couldn't scream or shout. He didn't have the strength to do that, and that made him realize how weak he was. He had fought wars in the name of heaven, and now he was about to die lonely and lost, far from everything he loved. Far from the one person he truly loved.

While waiting for the man to start mocking him again, a memory popped up in Cas' mind.

[Flashback begins.]

"Do you ever want to have kids?" Castiel asked, not suspecting his question would cause Dean to spit the water in his mouth.

Cas frowned, not understanding why Dean was acting this way. He was genuinely curious and just wanted to know whether Dean wanted to be a father one day or not.

Dean wiped his mouth with his hand and turned to face Cas, who was sitting next to him. They were out in a diner for dinner with Sam, just the three of us. Castiel and Dean were sitting next to each other while Sam was facing them.

Cas' question seemed to surprise both brothers, but only one of them spit the water. Sam raised an eyebrow, and he just realized he was curious to know Dean's answer as well.

A few moments of silence followed until Sam decided to quicken things up. "Well?" He asked as he looked at his brother.

Dean bit his lips and sighed. "Why are you asking me this, Cas?"

Cas looked at Dean, wondering why it was so hard to answer his easy question. Dean's green eyes captured Cas; he felt like he could drown in them if he just kept looking in them.

Cas shrugged and said, "Just wanted to know."

Dean looked at him, trying to figure out his intentions. As he looked in his blue eyes, he even forgot that his little brother was sitting across from them. He even forgot they were waiting for him to answer.

"I don't know. Maybe. " Dean said after the long silence and glanced at Sam. Sam smiled softly, his heart melting at the thought that one day he would be an uncle. Sam wished that his brother would have children one day. He knew he would be a great father; he proved it by raising Sam.

"You don't think you would be a good father. But that doesn't mean you don't deserve to be one." Castiel said without even asking Dean why. He knew him all too well. He knew his logic, and he knew how painfully he hated himself.

Dean's expressions changed, and from confused he went to vulnerable. But it only lasted a few moments before he came to his senses. And only Castiel could see it.

Cas lifted his hand and touched Dean's shoulder. Dean looked at the hand on his shoulder and turned back to his food.

Sam, sitting across from them, felt a bit uncomfortable watching them glancing at each other. They spoke a language Sam couldn't possibly understand.

"I'm going to use the bathroom." Sam stated as he stood up and left, leavingthe men alone.

They ate in silence for a while, but Cas couldn't shut up. He just had to say it; he wanted to comfort Dean so bad.

"I think you'd make a great father, Dean." He said, but he didn't look at him this time; he kept his sight on the burger in front of him, and he heard that Dena stopped eating next to him.

Dean sighed, and by that sound Cas could tell he didn't believe anything he said. He didn't believe in himself; he had no faith. Dean truly considered himself bad dad material, no matter what Cas had to say about it.

Castiel felt helpless; he wanted to comfort Dean more than anything, but no words could do that.

"How would you know?" Dean asked, grabbing his burger; he seemed pissed off. "You have no idea."

"I know you. That's enough for me to know." Cas said softly, and he considered the conversation finished. Dean looked at him with somber eyes, but behind those eyes he felt seen and heard. Cas's words helped Dean without even realizing it.

They continued to eat their own burgers, and as soon as Sam arrived back from the toilet, they both finished their meal.

That night, for the first time ever, Dean imagined a life with kids in it and let himself be hopeful, even if just for that night.

[Flashback ends.]

Cas' memory was cut off by some noise coming from somewhere else. Castiel saw the man's head turn in surprise and anger, even if it was dark in the room. He could hear his breathing quicken as he left Cas alone; his kidnapper hurried out of the room.

Castiel stayed silent as he tried to keep his eyes open. He had no idea what was happening, but he was curious enough to listen to the noises.

For a few minutes he didn't hear anything, and he began to think he just hallucinated all these things from the pain. He heard the water dripping further away, and the steps of his kidnapper had already faded away.

But then, a loud scream was heard. And Cas could recognize that it was his kidnapper's.

His back against the cold wall ached, and he felt so weak he couldn't even move his hands. He just sat there as he heard running footsteps getting closer and closer. However, from all the beating, his eyelids felt heavy, and he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore.

He was having trouble breathing. Maybe it was because of the broken ribs he had. When the abductor kicked him and hurt him in unimaginable ways, he managed to break his ribs too. Ribs that were protecting his insides from any harm were now destroyed, leaving his insides unprotected and vulnerable. It crossed Castiel's mind that it was almost like when he had lost his wings. His noble wings vanished and Castiel remained as a vulnerable human.

He tried so hard to be strong enough to stay awake, but he just wasn't. The comfortable darkness now completely surrounded him as he lost consciousness. The world went quiet around him; he didn't hear the footsteps anymore.

Chapter Text

Dean turned the key, and the car stopped. It was dark outside, the only source of light being an old street lamp. As he got out, he put his keys in his pockets and his gun in the back of his jeans.

His leather jacket didn't keep him warm enough, so suddenly goosebumps covered his body. He looked around and immediately recognized the car the priest was talking about. Green and Italian.

The car was parked in front of a smaller building. The dark building looked like nobody was using it. It looked abandoned and lifeless. Perfect place to torture celestial beings.

Dean felt his heartbeats quicken as everything went quiet around him. The only sound he heard was the sound of his racing thoughts.

He couldn't make a move. He just didn't have the courage to walk inside. He stood there for a short time, hoping for the best.

If Cas were dead, he would never ever ever forgive himself. He would spend the rest of his life suffering every day. He'd spend his days hopeless and in agony.

He closed his eyes and, without even realizing it, clenched his fists. The gun in his hand almost slipped when he opened his eyes.

With slow and quiet steps he pushed the door open of the abandoned building. The doors were louder than he expected; he considered that maybe the kidnapper knew about his entrance.

The dark inside of the building seemed like no one had been there for a long time. Maybe he was following something else entirely. The thought that he might not find Cas worried him deeply.

The doors led to a longer corridor, and as he walked along it, he tried opening the doors, but he didn't succeed. They were all closed. He even listened to each door, but since he didn't hear any noises, he continued looking for Cas.

When he reached the end of the corridor, he noticed a double door slightly ajar. He put his hand on the handle to push it open when the door suddenly opened and showed Dean to the floor.

It all happened so fast. Too fast. He felt his back hit the cold floor as someone he didn't know climbed up on him. He felt hands around his throat as his eyes widened. His gun was still in his right hand. He lifted his hand and hit the guy on top of him on the head with the gun as hard as he could.

As the man fell off of him, Dean sat up, finally able to breathe. He turned to look at the man, still on the ground. He felt unexpected pain on his jaw as the man punched him. The next moment he felt the kidnapper's boots on his nose. He could immediately feel the blood run from his nose.

He had enough. He pushed the man; he didn't seem to have any weapon, so he pushed him and stood up swiftly. He took the gun and pointed it at the guy. The man saw his movement and stopped immediately, lifting his hands above his head.

"Where is he?!" Dean asked loudly and in a very, very harsh tone. His face told everything to the kidnapper. The anger. The guilt. The love.

"Oh, Castiel?" The man asked, smirking. Now, Dean could see his face clearly. He didn't recognize him. Dark blonde hair, wrinkles around his eyes, and brown eyes. Dean didn't know him. All he knew was that he was the man who took Cas from him and that he had to suffer.

"Don't make me repeat the question!" Dean shouted angrily. The man didn't seem scared, really.

"Castiel, your angel, he's about to die. He deserves it. So do you." He said, spitting the words at Dean.

Suddenly, the man jumped on Dean; he lost balance and fell. But the gun fired. A loud shot was heard, and Dean's eyes widened. Blood covered his face, the man's blood. For a slight moment Dean didn't know who got shot. Fear rushed over him as he thought maybe he was the one who got shot, but luckily he wasn't.

The attacker fell on top of Dean, as Dean just lay under him, still shocked. Then he pushed him off of himself, thinking that this was all too easy.

He swallowed and stood up, looking at the man lying on the ground, now dead. The brown eyes looked at Dean, empty. Dean turned around and walked through the door.

He started walking slowly. He expected other people to be there too, so he tried taking it slow. But he didn't hear anything, and he could feel the time slipping through his fingers, so he hurried up.

His steps grew faster as he finally reached the last room, which he hadn't checked before. He was scared. He was so scared.

He put his ear on the door, trying to listen to what's in there. But he didn't hear anything. And somehow that upset him even more. Castiek should be in there. He should be there. And the lack of noise suggested to Dean the idea that whoever was in that room was dead.

He just stood there; he couldn't open the door. Dean felt his hands shaking, and his heartbeats were fast, too fast. With a desperate expression on his face, he took a deep breath.

He prepared for the worst; he just didn't really think it would actually be true.

As he pushed the door open, the light illuminated the small dark room. A lifeless body lying by the wall, soaked from maroon blood.

Dean's heart sank and skipped a few beats as his eyes were becoming full of tears. He recognized the trench coat immediately.

He didn't move; he stayed still, his facial expressions remaining hopeless and desperate. Guilt rushed over his body, and he suddenly felt the weight of all his sins on his back.

It was all his fault. He couldn't believe his eyes; he tried blinking a few times, hoping it would all disappear. It didn't.

He felt the blood on his face and hands mix with his sweat, and his whole body was trembling. He took a step closer, and a tear dropped from his eye.

The trench coat was soaked in blood. It wasn't the usual beige color anymore; it was all red.

Castiel's chest rose quietly, something Dean hadn't noticed. Dean stood there, observing Castiel's body, feeling at his lowest.

Then, as Cas's chest rose again, he noticed and rushed over to him immediately. He kneeled beside his loved one and slowly turned his head. Dena lifted his hand and put it on Cas' wrist, checking his pulse. A flicker of hope. Dean felt Cas' heartbeats, and a soft smile appeared on his lips, still worried.

He put Cas' head on his lap, slowly stroking his hair as he checked his injuries. They were terrible, and even with Cas' clothes covering his body, he could see the wounds and bruises all over his perfect body.

Dean slowly shook Cas' shoulders, holding his head still.

"Cas?" Dean's voice was shaking, worry and hope both recognizable as he talked.

Cas didn't answer; he didn't say anything. Dean once again asked, Cas? It's me, Dean. I'm here." Dean mostly said the last two words to himself, rather than to Castiel. "I'm here," he repeated.

Dean stood up and lifted Castiel up in his arms. With tears rolling down his face, Dean started walking out of the building, hoping everything would be alright one day.

As he walked the dark hallways, he suddenly heard a noise coming from close by. He stopped and looked around. He didn't put Cas down; he held him as tight as he could. He holds him close to his heart.

He started walking again, quietly, when he saw the man lying in his arms open his eyes. Oh, his eyes. Dean's head was so close to Castiel's, he could see his eyes perfectly clear.

Dean saw fear and then comfort appear in Cas' eyes. Dean smiled softly at Cas and said, "Hey, baby. I'm here now. I'm here."

Castiel smiled, and Dean saw him as his ocean blue eyes widened. Dean frowned as Cas opened his mouth, trying to say something. But he wasn't fast enough. Everything happened so quickly.

Dean heard the footsteps and then felt the sharp point of a knife cut through his skin from behind. The knife emerged in the lower part of his back. It cut through his leather jacket, then his shirt, and then his skin.

Dean's eyes widened in pain, and he opened his mouth. The grip around Castiel loosened, and Cas fell to the ground. Dean felt the warm blood wet his clothes as he closed his eyes. The unbearable pain rushed over his body, and he couldn't think of anything but Castiel. He could only think of how he almost managed to save Cas, and then in the end he didn't.

He was so tired; Dean was so tired. He was tired of everything. His childhood, his dad, his life, hunting, love. But he couldn't leave Castiel alone. He didn't want to let him down.

He took a deep breath as he gathered all of his remaining strength. He turned around as he pulled his gun from his pocket. Without even checking the man who stabbed him, he fired the gun. He shot the man in the head.

The dead man fell to the ground immediately, blood coming from the hole on his head.

Dean fell to his knees, trying to hold it all together. He checked on Cas, who was lying on the ground peacefully. His chest rising up and down slowly. He was alive at least. Dean thought if he died it would be okay, because at least Castiel would be alive.

With that thought, he fell to the ground, lying close to Castiel. Blood running from his wound on his back, merging together with the blood coming from the man.

Dean prayed everything would be alright. But he didn't pray to God; he prayed to the man lying next to him, Cas.

Chapter Text

The first thing he noticed was the sound of the tires against the asphalt. Castiel felt euphoric. He opened his eyes slightly, then closed them right back before he could understand where he was or what was happening.

Thoughts and memories rushed over his mind as he tried opening his eyes once again. It was dark and cold. His legs were resting on the backseats of the Impala, with his head against the door.

He felt the recognizable smell of blood as he realized that part of the blood was on his coat. The other part smelled fresher.

He looked up; he had a hard time moving his head. As he scanned the car, he noticed that Dean wasn't driving. He'd expected Dean to drive the Impala, but instead of him, a man with dark hair was sitting in front of him, with his feet on the gas pedal.

He turned his head slightly, not expecting to see such horror. He saw the red blood covering Dean's whole body. Dean was lying there, his body not moving at all. He saw his chest rising slowly, though. So slowly. That wasn't normal.

Then it hit Cas right in the head. The man who stabbed Dean. How helpless he felt.

Cas tried sitting up, but he didn't have the strength to do that yet. Not when keeping his eyes open even caused him a hard time. He felt a tear wet his cheek without ever realizing he started crying.

All this because he was incapable of taking care of himself. Castiel still didn't believe Dean actually came for him. It felt like a fever dream that Dean Winchester came to rescue Castiel. That Dean Winchester put time and effort into saving him.

And now, Cas didn't feel grateful; he felt guilty. He felt like all this happened because of him. Dean literally got stabbed in the back because he was trying to save Castiel. Dean risked his own life for him. He couldn't believe it. Well, deep down he could, because he knew how self-destructive Dean was.

Castiel just remembered the short prayer of Dean before he passed out on the floor. When he got stabbed and he was lying on the cold ground, he prayed to Castiel.

'Castiel, I'm sorry. I pray you don't die. I'm so sorry, Cas. For everything. Please just don't die! I have so much to say.'

The words felt like a knife in his heart. Castiel heard his prayer, even now when he wasn't an angel. He guessed he wasn't fully human either, or maybe it was only because Dean was the one praying. Him praying to Cas made Cas feel so loved and appreciated. He knew Dean had much to say, and he would do anything to hear it. Anything.

It all felt like a punch in the gut, and then he heard the words murmured from the man sitting in front of him.

"No. No. No." He heard the quiet words of the man who was driving the car. He could feel how anxious he was; he felt the tension. He heard how desperate he was.

"Please, make it, Dean." The man said, his voice shaking.

Then suddenly Cas saw as the man reached for the button on the dashboard. Then he heard the music. Maybe the man turned the radio on to distract himself, Castiel couldn't find any other explanation.

Castiel felt his eyes heavy, but still he frowned when he heard the song that was playing. How ironic, he thought as the memory of Dean showing the song to him popped up in his mind.

The slow guitar strumming of Lover, You Should've Come Over by Jeff Buckley started, and Castiel felt his heart skip a few beats.

[Flashback begins.]

Dean was sitting on his bed, back in the bunker, when Castiel knocked on his door. He heard a soft melody playing from Dean's room, but he didn't recognize the song. He knocked louder this time, and when the door didn't open, he put his hand on the handle and pushed the door open slowly.

Then he looked inside, scared, because he didn't want to harm Dean's privacy. When he saw that Dean was lying on his bed with a picture in his hand, he smiled softly.

He stepped inside and closed the door after himself. The sound of a closing door made Dean sit up, and Castiel smiled awkwardly.

"Hey Cas." Dean said, but Cas could barely hear because of the music. Dean patted the bed next to him, inviting Cas to sit down.

Now Castiel had the chance to look around. He saw that the room was a bit messy, with the music coming from the record player beside his bed.

He sat down right next to Dean, their shoulders touching. The whole situation felt so comfortable. Good music, the ones Dean likes, and good company, Dean.

"I want you to listen to this song, Cas. I think you'll like it. It's Jeff Buckley, a classic." Dean said, and Cas heard every word clearly; they were so close to each other. Cas didn't even doubt that he wouldn't like the song Dean was about to show him. Cas even forgot why he searched for Dean anyway.

Dean put the song on, playing it from the very first part. The song opened with a solo organ, making the whole atmosphere sound free and peaceful, very church-like.

Castiel looked at Dean, slowly taking in his view. The guitar started playing as he kept staring into his forest green eyes. His eyes, his nose, his jaw, his wrinkles, his hair, his soul. Oh, his perfect soul.

'Broken down and hungry for your love
With no way to feed it'

Castiel heard the words, and he was surprised. He was surprised how deeply the lyrics affected him. This was his situation. Dean saw this, but he kept quiet, listening to the music. So why was Dean showing him this song?

They both listened to the lyrics, not realizing they were both thinking of each other. The song created this warm atmosphere around them.

'Sometimes a man must wake to find that
Really, he has no one.
So I'll wait for you, love.
And I'll burn.
Will I ever see your sweet return?
Oh, will I ever learn?
Oh-oh, lover, you should've come over.
'Cause it's not too late.'

He saw Dean sing the lyrics, but he barely heard his voice, the music was louder. Then he stopped singing after he finished his verse. In that moment Castiel knew he would never forget the way Dean Winchester sang, keeping eye contact with him. He knew he would never forget the lyrics to the song.

They remained silent, and Castiel leaned closer to Dean. Castiel looked down at his perfectly shaped lips, lips so pink and comfortable. Dean was looking at Castiel, studying his face. He also wanted to remember everything about him.

They kept getting closer and closer each moment, so painfully slowly, and then Castiel saw as Dean opened his mouth. He sang the lyrics, and this time Castiel could hear his raspy voice as he sang the devastating lines of the song. They were so close to each other; Castiel listened to what Dean was singing.

'It's never over.
All my blood for the sweetness of her laughter'

Cas never noticed how good Dean's voice really was. Probably because Dean never sang to him directly before, and in that moment it felt like the world stopped to listen and consume Dean's voice. In Cas's head it almost sounded like a melody of an angel.

Cas could feel the song was about to end, but he didn't want the moment to do so. He wanted to stay there for a lifetime. But as the guitar stopped playing, Cas and Dean were so close to each other their noses almost touched.

Dean looked down and then right back up at the man sitting next to him. Castiel saw as he swallowed his breath, and he felt his hungry eyes on his skin.

Then a loud knock on the door disrupted their moment, and Dean pulled away as quickly as he could. Castiel felt disappointment, he was curious about what was about to happen next. He wanted to feel Dean's lips on his so badly, and it just didn't happen.

Dean seemed to be a bit confused and detached, but Cas wasn't too surprised. He knew all this was new to Dean, so he didn't judge him, he would never.

Cas' precious memory ended with Sam stepping in the room asking for help with a hunt. The feeling of disappointment didn't cover his feeling of lust. This memory was so pure and important to Cas, he would do anything to remember it again.

[Flashback ends.]

Now as Castiel lay in the car, hoping that Dean would make it, something broke in him. He loved him so much, he couldn't let him die. Cas would sacrifice anything for Dean, and he did.

Keeping his eyes open was a real struggle for Castiel in this condition. The song ended on the radio, and tears ran on his face, making his vision blurry.

The man driving the car seemed extremely nervous as he was rushing towards a hospital, Castiel assumed. They were both in a condition only doctors could treat.

He looked down, and even in the dark car he could spot the drops of blood falling from the car seat near Cas' leg. It was Dean's blood, coming from his back, where that evil monster stabbed him.

Tragedy. Castiel couldn't find any other words that would describe the situation. Dean was bleeding out to their song in his car, while Castiel had a hard time breathing in the backseat, recalling a sweet memory to make himself feel better. Guilt interlocks the both of them.

Castiel was tired, so exhausted. He tried so hard to be awake for when Dean wakes. He tried so hard to be able to tell Dean that he was there for him. Just like Dean did when he rescued him.

Suddenly he remembered the moment when he was lying in Dean's strong arms, and when he opened his eyes, he found himself so close to the beautiful Dean. He recalled how his heart melted when Dean called him baby and comforted him, repeating that he was there.

He called him baby, and maybe Dean thought Castiel wouldn't remember it later because he was barely alive, but Castiel knew that he would never ever forget it. It was like he finally got something in return for all the things he had done for Dean, even when he didn't expect anything.

Castiel had lost everything. His wings, his friends, his love. But now he felt slightly hopeful, he prayed he wouldn't lose it this time.

Castiel's eyes slowly closed, and the world stopped around him. He didn't hear the nervous foot tapping of the driver, he didn't hear the death rattles, or the music playing. The last thing he thought before passing out was a silent prayer, hoping someone would hear it.

Chapter Text

"What the hell happened?!" Dean heard voices, but he wasn't self-conscious at all. He didn't know where he was or how he'd get there. He felt so weak and powerless.

"It's a long story, look—" He heard another male voice, but the man was cut off mid-sentence.

"No, don't tell me it's a long story! That's my brother lying there, and I don't know you. We've only met once, and I... I wake up in the middle of the night, my phone ringing, and when I answer, you tell me my brother was stabbed in a city so far away?!" Dean recognized his brother's voice, and it shattered his heart.

Sam was arguing, and he was right; Dean couldn't even imagine how hurt he must have felt. Sam's voice was shaking, and Dean knew his brother was worried. So worried.

"I mean—" Sam started again, but his voice cracked, and he sounded like he was about to cry any minute. "What was he doing? Why are you guys here, and why didn't you tell me?"

"Sam, this is all about the angel. He was—" Elliott was cut off once again by Sam.

"Castiel?! He's… He's alive?" He asked, and Dean heard that his brother was not just pissed; he was hurt that Dean kept so much information away from him.

Elliott sighed loudly and said, "He was kidnapped, Dean rescued him, and he got stabbed in the back."

Dean always remembered Elliott as a strong and confident man, but now his voice sounded so different. He sounded weak and breakable.

"Did he survive? God, I have so many questions." Dean's eyes were closed, but he felt like he could still clearly see his little brother's expressions.

Dean wanted to know the answer desperately. He wasn't really there, the quiet dreams trying to pull him back to sleep.

Dean took a moment for himself. He didn't feel his arms nor his legs. He didn't feel any pain at all. It felt like he was outside of his body, just observing.

He hoped that Castiel was alive. God, he didn't know what he would do if he wasn't. But it all felt so quiet and peaceful now. It felt like everything was going to be alright.

Dean didn't hear any voices anymore, but he didn't want to sleep. He wanted to be present and ask questions. He wanted to hug his little brother and hug Castiel.

He tried opening his eyes slowly; his vision was blurry. His breathing slowed as he managed to open his eyes slightly. He tried moving his hands, and he felt his finger move, but even that was tiring for him.

He saw his brother in jeans and a brown jacket standing at the end of his bed and facing Elliott. Elliott, who looked worn out and exhausted. They argued, but Dean didn't hear their voices yet.

He tried turning his head, but he couldn't do that. He saw the white blankets over him and the white hospital room where he was.

Memories of that night flooded back, and worry took over him. Castiel. He wasn't strong enough to pray, but silently he hoped Cas would live the happiest life ever, because he knew he deserved it.

He saw Sam turn his head as he pointed at Dean while arguing. Sam turned back to Elliott, and then as he realized Dean's eyes were open, he rushed to Dean.

Dean saw as they both got closer to Dean, and Sam mouthed something, but Dean couldn't hear it.

"I'm here, Dean. I'm sorry I wasn't here, but hey, you're going to be okay. " Dean suddenly heard the words of his brother. These sentences comforted him, but he still couldn't get Castiel out of his mind.

Dean didn't even try opening his mouth, he didn't have the strength. He just stared blankly at Sam, hoping he would say something.

Sam looked at Elliott, clearly worried. Dean noticed a single tear rolling down his face. Dean felt bad for not telling Sam about Castiel, but Dena knew his brother all too well. He knew Sam would've helped them, and he would've been in danger. He would've even risked his life; Dean couldn't let that happen. Sam deserved the life he had just started, and Dean wasn't in place to ruin that.

"He's going to be okay, he's alive and well. Very well." He, heard Elliott say softly as he put his hand on Dean's. Dean has never felt so relieved as in that moment.

The fact that they were both going to make it would've made Dean smile if he wasn't so weak. Was it finally over?

He slowly drifted away; dreams, mostly nightmares, pulled him back. His body rested, but his mind never did.

Dean opened his eyes slowly; his breathing was so quiet and peaceful. He felt better than the last time he was awake.

He swallowed and lifted his head slightly. It was hard to do, but he tried anyway. He blinked a few times, and his vision cleared.

When he turned his head to his side, he found himself facing Castiel. Dean frowned, but he was sure Cas didn't see that. He was sure his face seemed emotionless and tired, maybe even sick.

The sight of Castiel sitting so close to him made Dean so happy. He felt like this moment was the reward for all his earlier sufferings. He felt pain in his back, but he didn't care. Cas was sitting right beside him, holding his hand.

"Dean?" He heard the angelic voice of Cas, and his heart skipped a few beats. Cas was sitting in a wheelchair, and his face was full of purple and black bruises along with too many wounds. He looked so hurt and worried.

Dean tried opening his mouth, but he couldn't even lift his head, let alone speak. He was so weak, and he felt guilty for that, because he had so much to say. This was his first time to actually say something, and he couldn't.

"I've heard your prayer. It's okay, Dean. You will survive this, and I'm fine too. " Castiel's voice was soft and warm, but Dean could still hear how worried he was. Cas leaned closer and put his hands on Dean's cheeks.

He smiled softly and said, "Thank you for saving me. I didn't think you would've come to rescue me. Thank you."

He leaned back in his chair, and Dean kept staring at him. Dean couldn't move his body, but he could move his eyes, and they didn't leave Castiel for any minute.

"If I knew all this would happen to you, I would've never wished you came for me."

The words meant so much to Dean. If Dean knew what would happen to him, he would've still done it. Over and over again.

Dean closed his eyes and soon opened them again, it was all so quiet. Too quiet. Castiel didn't leave his side; he stayed.

Dean opened his eyes suddenly; his breathing was so heavy. It felt a bit hard breathing, but as soon as he saw the door opening and his brother stepping in, he calmed down.

He noticed that Castiel was still sitting next to his bed. Dean still felt like he couldn't move. The pain in his back was now louder. Screaming for help.

But no one in the room heard his screams. The painkillers probably didn't affect him anymore. Dean hoped he would get the next round of medicines soon.

As Sam stepped in the room, he stepped closer to Dean and smiled at him. He said hi to his old brother and then looked at Cas.

"How is he?" Sam asked Castiel, and Cas looked worried. He shook his head slowly and let go of Dean's hand.

"It's been a week, Sam. Doctors said he's getting better, but it's all so slow. I'm so worried. But doctors said he's stable and better and better every day. You should go home." Cas replied, and Dean was so surprised.

It's already been a week, and he didn't even know. It felt like it's been just a few hours, but as he looked around, he saw that his brother's clothes had changed. Castiel remained in the same clothes, wearing a hospital gown.

And that last sentence, 'go home'? Sam has been here for a week? Dean felt so selfish. Sam had to abandon his life to take care of Dean. Dean couldn't forgive this of himself. He should go home, back to his perfect American house. Back to his new girlfriend, Iris or whatever her name was.

Dean couldn't handle the pain anymore. His physical pain merged together with his emotional one. His guilt, his shame, his jealousy, his love, and his self-hate were now one with the pain coming from his back, from the huge wound.

He saw Sam's and Castiel's heads turn so swiftly towards him. And he was quick to realize they both stared at him with a frightened expression because of the sound he had just made.

Dean was whimpering in pain; they both looked at Dean confused. They didn't know what he meant. Was he trying to say something?

Dean closed his eyes, and he felt he was sweating. He felt that his forehead was wet already and he was hot. He opened his mouth with his last strength to be able to breathe. It didn't really help.

Sam put his hand on his forehead, and his eyes widened when he felt how hot his brother was. Dean saw as he quickly rushed out of the room and shouted for help. Then he hurried back to Dean and grabbed his hand.

Dean heard Cas whisper in his ear, but he couldn't understand what he was saying. He just heard words but didn't understand their meaning.

He saw as Castiel's eyes widened in fear and he shouted something to Sam. Sam grabbed Dean's body and pushed it to his side carefully. That hurt Dean like hell.

Dean felt like his whole body was on fire, and as Sam lowered him back to his bed, he felt something wet under himself.

When he turned his head, he saw Sam's hands were bloody—his blood. Dean realized it wasn't the lack of painkillers that caused him pain. His wound was bleeding.

The world was quiet. Dean didn't hear anything. He saw their mouths move, but he couldn't hear anything. Dean noticed how tears were rolling on Castiel's face, and that broke something in him.

Then three doctors and a few nurses stepped in the door. Dean could see the pure horror on their faces as they saw Dean.

They rushed to Dean and pushed Sma and Cas aside to help him. Dean felt like everything happened in slow motion. The doctors, the shouting, the blood.

As they started wheeling Dena out of the room with the bed, he saw his brother's face. Fear and worry, tears rolling down his face. His hands were wet from Dean's blood. Dena knew he would never forget the look on his face.

And then he saw his face. Castiel was horrified. He held his hands together, and Dean saw his mouth moving. Dean realized he was praying, with tears rolling down his face. The image of the angel praying shattered Dean's heart, and he never wanted to forget his view.

They pushed him out of the room, and Dean saw doctors running towards the operating room. He just continued staring at the ceiling.

He felt like he was dying. The pain was unbearable. He closed his eyes, hoping dreams would put him to sleep. But the harsh reality kept pulling him back all the time.

With a tear rolling down his face, he felt the blood wet the whole mattress under him. He lost consciousness as the pain took over his whole body.

Memories appeared in front of his eyes, about his whole life. He saw his brother growing up and meeting Castiel. And he remembered his dad and mom. He missed them. For a moment he thought maybe he was about to meet them soon.

But he quickly got that thought out of his head, because he had to survive this. He had to keep trying and to be strong. For Castiel. He had to be there for him. He had so many things to tell him, and he didn't want his last memory of him to be him crying and praying for Dean.

Dean decided to be strong for Castiel, even if it meant the start of endless suffering.

Chapter Text

Castiel sat in his hospital room; his legs couldn't stop moving. His pointer finger of his left hand was between his teeth, he was nervously chewing on it.

The room was so white, so bright. In the middle there was a bed, on which he was sitting. Next to that there was a bedside table. A small television facing the bed was close, but Cas didn't use it.

It has already been a week since Dean saved his life and rescued his own. However, Cas didn't spend much time in his own room; from the moment he was able to sit in a wheelchair, he rushed to Dean's room. He sat by his side almost every day, all day.

He basically came back to his room to get some sleep and change his gown to clean ones.

Castiel was getting better and better day by day. His body was covered in black and purple bruises. He took painkillers religiously. They helped him a lot, they really took his pain.

But still, whenever someone touched his red skin, it felt like hell. His face was covered in cuts and wounds, sometimes with blood still dripping from some.

The doctors operated on him when Elliott arrived with them in the Impala. Dean was critical back then, on the verge of dying. Castiel didn't know at the time, but he was also dying.

His lungs collapsed, and so many of his ribs were broken, he needed surgery right away. They took both him and Dean in separate operating rooms and managed to save both of their lives.

The next day when Castiel woke up, a policemanwas sitting in his room waiting to interview Castiel. Cas wasn't feeling well, but he was okay enough to answer his questions.

The police officer was offended by how Cas didn't have a proper name and address. Castiel didn't tell him he was kidnapped and then rescued by Dean. He wasn't going to make it a big deal, since Dean killed the man who stabbed him. Castiel didn't want to cause Dean any trouble by telling everything.

And Cas knew that it would sound weird and suspicious if he admitted that he was kidnapped by someone who was after angels. The fact that he didn't have any ID or anything made the situation worse. So he shut his mouth and told only a few things.

He instead said that they were all in a bar, drinking and having fun, when some guys started arguing with them. Cas told the officer how they backed off and told the guys that they didn't want trouble. When the man asked if Castiel wanted to press charges and start an investigation, he declined. He said he didn't want to cause further trouble.

When Dean was in the condition to be visited, Cas hurried to his room. He had his little reunion with Sam, and he introduced himself to Elliott properly.

Sam was worried about the both of them, and Cas explained everything to him. How he ended up in Garden City, his job, his temporary home, his friendship with the priest, and how he got kidnapped.

Sam seemed genuinely happy to see Cas again, and that filled Cas with happiness as well.

Then Cas had a shorter conversation with Elliott, Dean's old friend. Cas felt like they didn't have too much in common; the only thing was Dean.

Castiel spent his days in Dean's room, sitting by his side. He read to him, he talked to him, and he held his hand. Dean sometimes opened his eyes, and rarely he moved his fingers. But whenever he stared at Castiel, Cas felt like he wasn't there. In those eyes he didn't see anything. And that makes him feel helpless.

Castiel felt so guilty for all that happened. He felt like it was his fault that Dean got stabbed in the back. He had already decided that if he wouldn't see life in Dean's eyes again, he would take the life out of his own eyes.

When Dean's condition worsened last night, Cas felt defeated. He saw as Dean's blood started to flood from his wound on his back. He saw the pain in his eyes and heard the noise he made. That sound was a scream for help, and Cas heard it, he just couldn't help.

His heart broke at the sight of Sam crying, and he just couldn't handle it when they took Dean. Everything was so chaotic. Doctors shouting and nurses running.

Castiel didn't sleep that night; while they spent hours operating on Dean, he stayed in the chapel silently praying. It's kind of ironic how praying became a thing in Cas' life. He was once an angel, and now he was praying all the time, and he hated it.

When they finished operating on Dean, Sam rushed to get Cas. Elliott was already talking to the doctor, but since he wasn't a family member, the doctor didn't tell him anything directly.

The three of them listened to what the doctor had to say. Castiel saw the way Sam held his tears back and how angry Elliott was. Castiel felt a mix of those emotions. He was distraught and sad and unbelievably furious. He was so mad at himself for causing so much trouble. He could feel the anger in his veins merged together with his blood perfectly.

Even now, as he was sitting in his room, his face buried in his hands, he could hear the echo of the doctor's words.

"He's critical right now. He lost too much blood, and the wound on his back... I'm sorry to say this, but I don't see a high chance that he'll make it."

Castiel felt so weak and helpless sitting there wondering what kind of pain Dean must be going through. He couldn't visit Dean, nobody could. He was in critical condition, so visitors would only cause trouble.

Castiel saw the sun shining outside, and he wished it was raining. Maybe that would make him feel better; maybe it would make him feel like he's not the only one feeling like that. He kept staring outside while he sobbed silently.

He heard the door open and heavy boots step inside. He turned around and found himself facing Elliott.

He was wearing the same clothes as two days ago, his stubble now showing. His eyes were tired, but there was a raging fire in them. Cas knew he was angry, he got it, he was too.

Cas smiled at him softly, but that smile wasn't happy or fun. It was desperate and lonely. Elliott, however, didn't smile back at him. He stepped closer, but he didn't sit down. He stood in front of Cas, and the room felt so small.

The door was closed, and the TV was off. A cloud appeared in the sky and covered the sun. The sunrays weren't so happy anymore.

"Castiel." Elliott said, and Cas lifted his head to see his face. His face showed rage and anger that was bottled up inside him. Castile frowned and opened his mouth to ask him if he was okay, knowing the answer would be no.

But as his mouth fell open, Castiel felt Elliott's fist collide with his jaw. The pain came instantly. Castiel's eyes widened as he touched his cheek, feeling the blood drip from his earlier wound again. The punch opened so many closed wounds.

Still holding his face, Castiel lifted his head again and looked at Elliott. Castiel felt betrayed; he didn't quite understand why Elliott would hit him just like that. He stared into Elliott's eyes, full of hate, with a tear rolling down his cheek.

He felt like he was stabbed in the back. He didn't know Elliott, but he had tried to make himself liked by him. Seems like it didn't work. He had no idea why, but Elliott despised him, and he wasn't in the place to change that. Still, he didn't expect Elliott, Dean's precious friend, to hit him.

Sam told him a bit about himself, and from what he said, he seemed normal. He would've never thought he would raise a finger on anyone who was important to Dean.

"Elliott?!" Castiel asked, his voice shaking. His voice was weak and quiet. He was scared of what he would say or do next.

Castiel felt the pain slowly fade away. It was still there, but it wasn't so intense anymore. He pulled his hands away from his face and looked at them only to see they were covered in his warm maroon blood.

"This is all your fault!" Elliott shouted at him, and Castiel pulled back, he flinched at the loud words. Guilt and shame mixed together, he felt terrible. He didn't look up, he stared at the ground with tears in his eyes.

Then Elliott raised his voice again, shouting at Castiel. "Look at me, you idiot! You ruined everything! Dean is going to die because of you! He wanted to save you so bad, and I kept telling him that it was going to kill him! I kept repeating how you make him weak, but no… He wouldn't admit it, and look where it got him! This is all your fault, you selfish piece of shit! "

With each sentence, Elliott got closer and closer to Cas. Cas was now crying, he felt terrible. Just terrible. He knew Elliott was right, it was all his fault, but still hearing it was different. It made him flinch and his heart shatter to pieces.

Castiel didn't say anything, and when he looked up at Elliott, he saw how tears ran from his eyes.

Castiel opened his eyes to say sorry, but Elliott suddenly stepped closer and grabbed Castiel by his gown. He put his hands around Cas's neck, and his grip got stronger and stronger.

Castiel felt his finger tighten around his neck as he gasped for air. He tried making a sound, but only a quiet sound came out of his mouth. He couldn't breathe at all, and he saw Elliott's face as he choked him. Castiel tried to push Elliott away with his legs and with his hands, but he was just stronger.

Castiel was already weak from his kidnapper's beating, and he was not well. He still hasn't healed, so he didn't have the strength to fight back.

His hands fell by themselves as he lay under Elliott. His deathly grip on his neck caused Cas to lose oxygen. He felt as if his body was slowly fading away, the life in his eyes slowly dripping.

Castiel's vision was blurry, he didn't even realize until now, but he saw many black spots in front of his eyes. These were probably the signs of the lack of oxygen.

Cas thought of Dean, hoping he would make it. And he hoped Elliott would find peace one day. If choking him to death would make him feel better, Cas would feel better dying, knowing that he helped someone.

Cas didn't know why, but he felt like Elliott was already close to death. There was just something odd about him. But the pain in his body distracted him from his thoughts.

Suddenly, he heard the door open and someone rushed to them. He saw Sam's body collide with Elliott. He jumped on him as Elliott released Castiel from his grip. Sam's shouts filled the room.

Cas gasped for air, finally able to breathe. The oxygen felt like sweet heaven. He took breaths fast as he heard Sam shout for help.

Castiel couldn't move his head, he was too tired, and his body was drained. He was totally worn out. He heard as the security guards rushed into the room and took Sam off of Elliott.

They took Elliott out of the room who was still shouting. Then, Castiel felt the doctor's hands carefully touch his neck. He heard Sam's anger and worry in his voice as he asked if Castiel was okay.

The actions of the last ten minutes still haunted him. He stared at the ceiling, he couldn't get the fear out of his head. This was truly traumatizing for him. In the last few weeks he had been hurt in unimaginable ways. He was beaten and burnt and... But he hasn't been choked. Not once. And it caused him serious issues.

"He'll be fine, but this will be visible for a few weeks, maybe. Just breathe, Castiel. I'll get you painkillers." The man said and left Cas alone with Sam.

"What the fuck was that?! How could Elliott do that? I'm so sorry that I wasn't here, Cas." Said Sam as he leaned over to Cas to see his face.

Cas nodded carefully, the pain not disappearing from his body. He felt so many things at the same time. But he was okay now. He wasn't being choked, and Dean would be okay.

Castiel didn't feel peace at all, the constant worry and guilt completely distracted him. He, however, felt safe now that Elliott was gone and Sam was in the room.
Cas thought about Dean before closing his eyes.

Chapter Text

Elliott was sitting in his motel room. His legs were shaking, his face buried in his hands. The room was simple, with a double bed in the middle, a TV, a desk, and chairs. The bathroom was small and old and shabby.

He could feel how fast his heart was racing, and he felt dizzy.

He just arrived back at his cheap motel room after doing something beyond terrible. A few hours ago he had lost control and tried to kill Castiel. Sam arrived just when Cas' eyes were about to close forever, and Elliott felt the rage.

And the worst part was that he didn't even feel guilty about it. He just felt frustrated that he didn't succeed. He knew what he did was wrong, and really he didn't mean to kill him; he just lost his temper.

However, he wouldn't mind if that piece of shit died. Dean would be better off without him, and he stood by that. Elliott told Dean a thousand times how Castiel made him weak, and Dean didn't listen.

He didn't listen, and now he's dying. He's critical. Maybe he'll just die, and if he does, that will be only Cas' fault. If Elliott wasn't there to save the both of them, they would've been dead by now.

The moment when Elliott saw Dean lying there on the floor, blood all over him, his heart sank. Then when he saw Castiel was lying right next to him, a dark thought occurred in his mind. He almost decided to leave him there to die. But Dean was important to him. So important. And that's why he took the both of them rushing to the hospital.

Sam didn't let him near the hospital. He told him that clearly and directly. Elliott got it; he almost killed Dean's love, and his brother couldn't stand that. Sam wouldn't be able to deal with losing his brother and his best friend on the same day.

Elliott saw how things were. He noticed how Dean's expressions changed from harsh to soft when he first asked about the angel. And he saw how desperate Dean was to find Castiel. Elliott saw that Dean was clearly in love with Castiel. Maybe Dean didn't know that, maybe he did.

As he sat there in silence, he looked around the messy room. His room represented his mental state perfectly. His clothes were thrown around the room, with a few bottles of alcohol and some pills on his bedside table.

His legs wouldn't stop tapping the cold floor. It was getting darker and darker, the sun was just about to set, and Elliott didn't know what to do.

He wanted to go visit Dean so badly, he just wanted to know how he was, but he made a huge mistake. He admitted that choking Castiel was a mistake, but he didn't regret it. He thought he deserved it, and he should be the one dying instead of Dean.

As he kept staring at the wall, a memory popped up in his head from his childhood. Well, he wasn't exactly a child when he met Dean, but he was so pure back then, it almost seemed like he was a child.

He tried to ignore the memories but failed, and without wanting to, he immersed himself in the haunting past.

Elliott stood in front of a big house in the countryside. He was so nervous to enter he decided to wait in front of the house until someone came out.

The house was huge, and Elliott now understood how many boys would be able to live there. However, he didn't want to live there; he wanted to go home. He wished to go back to his old home to be with his sister again. He wanted it so badly it hurt.

It was a late summer afternoon, and the sun was already halfway down. The beautiful sunset illuminated the farm, and Elliott was amazed.

"Hey!" He heard from behind as he turned around quickly. He found himself facing a young boy with green eyes and light brown hair. Elliott assumed he was one of the boys who lived at Sonny's Boys' home.

"Hey, I'm Elliott." He introduced himself and hoped the boy would be kind to him. Elliott wasn't always a sad boy; he used to be fun to be with. But so many bad things had happened to him, and things just changed.

"Dean. Why won't you come inside?" Dean said, and Elliott swallowed loudly. He was just so embarrassed to be this nervous. Dean seemed like a tough kid, the kind you can rely on no matter what.

"I… I was just kind of nervous." Elliott said, and Dean stepped closer and grabbed his suitcase from his hand. He started walking inside, and Elliott followed.

"How did you get here?" Asked Dean as he closed the door behind them as soon as they got inside.

"By bus." He replied, and Dean laughed a bit.

"No, I mean, like, why did you end up here?" Dean said, and as he saw Elliott's expression, his smile faded.

"I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me. We barely know each other." Dean said quickly, and Elliott was glad he didn't push him into telling anything.

Elliott nodded, and then Dean showed him around. They became close instantly. They spent the next few weeks just talking and having fun. Elliott found comfort in Dean's friendship, he was finally able to forget the past, even if just for the daytime.

Every night they would stay up late or sneak out. But when he had to sleep, memories haunted him. Every night was filled with nightmares of his past, he never had a good night. But when he woke up each day and found Dean sleeping near him on the other bed, he felt slightly better.

Dean became an important person in his life, and he let himself get close to him. The little broken heart of Elliott seemed to have found someone who might repair it, so he decided to tell Dean everything.

One night, when they were sitting in their room, just talking, Dean asked something, and Elliott decided to answer it.

"Did you steal something?" Dean asked as he raised an eyebrow playfully.

"No." Elliott answered, and he knew what Dena was trying to ask. The look on his face was serious and sad, and he saw as Dean's mood shifted.

"Uhm…" Elliott started, his voice shaking. "My uhh family was murdered. The police didn't find the killer, and they said there were just too many weird things about the case."

Dean frowned as he listened to the story. "My little sister, Sheila, was just 11. I was doing groceries, so I wasn't home when it happened. I went home, and nobody seemed to be home, which was weird because my father was unemployed." Elliott stooped and took a breath; Dean felt bad already.

"I went out to the garden, and they were there. They were burnt, and a weird symbol was carved into their foreheads. My little sister was almost unrecognizable." Elliott finished the story, and tears were rolling down his face.

Elliott couldn't get the smell of the fire and their bodies out of his head. He remembered the smoke and the way the bodies were left there. He wanted to forget it more than anything, and it killed him that he couldn't do that.

Dean frowned, and he just felt so weird. He felt like there was definitely more to the case, it was so suspicious.

"I'm so sorry for your loss. I can't even imagine losing my little brother. I'm here for you, buddy, if you ever want to talk or something." Dean said as he hugged him, Elliott stopped crying after a while, and he was grateful that he had a loyal friend.

A few days later when Elliott was doing laundry, Dean suddenly appeared by his side. Elliott saw how weird he was acting as Dean asked him to sit down.

Then Dean introduced him to supernatural beings. He told him everything. Dean talked about his hunter life, his mother, his father, and his loss. Dean told him that he suspected that Elliott's family was a victim of witchcraft.

At first Elliott was furious. He didn't believe a word, and he felt violated that Dean dared to say such things about his family. And then Dean showed him proof. Deas showed him drawings and symbols, and slowly Elliott started to believe.

Ever since that day he has been obsessed. Dean showed him everything; he told him so many things, and he even taught him.

Elliott's life was back to normal. He had a friend, he considered Dean his family. He had a home, Sonny became like a father figure to him after he spent his childhood with his abusive dad. It just all felt so peaceful.

And then one night everything changed forever. They were about to fall asleep when Dean's father appeared. They looked out the window, and he saw as Dean's eyes widened.

"What?" Elliott asked as he saw a tear shed from Dean's eyes.

"That's my father. He came back for me." Dean said, but he didn't seem happy about it. Elliott saw how he was fighting with himself about what to do.

They heard the sound of the horn, and Dean saw how impatient his father was. Dean turned to face his best friend, and with consuming sadness and guilt in his eyes, he opened his mouth.

"I'm so sorry, Elliott. I'm afraid my father would leave me for good if I don't go, and if I didn't see him ever again, I would be good. But my brother…" Elliott's heart broke, and he wanted Dena to stay so badly, but he knew how much he loved his brother, and he got it.

"Sammy's there too, and I have to protect him. I'm so sorry, I promise we'll meet again, Elliott. I'm so sorry." Dean said before he packed all his things and left.

Elliott watched from the window as he got in the car, they both glanced at each other one last time before Dean's dad drove him away.

Tears ran from his eyes, from that day all the time. He couldn't sleep, he couldn't forget. He missed his best friend so much, he wanted to get him back again.

Sonny tried to cheer him up many times, but nothing worked. His spark was gone, and he was that sad kid with no friends again. Elliott tried writing letters to Dean, but he didn't know his address.

He wrote the letters anyway. It was a good way to pour his heart out, to express his feelings. But he couldn't send the letters, and keeping them hidden in his wardrobe was almost like bottling up his feelings inside of himself. So he stopped writing letters, and he started focusing on hunting instead.

He went on his first solo hunt a few months later, and he killed a werewolf for the first time ever. He killed for the first time, and it gave him a goal.

He decided to murder as many supernatural beings as he can until he dies. He was only 17 at the time, but he couldn't wait to finally get old enough to leave.

The Boys' Home just reminded him of what's missing from his life; however, he loved spending time with Sonny.

One day Sonny waited for Elliott in his room, sitting on his bed with a serious expression on his face. Elliott thought it would just be a quiet but serious talk, well, he was wrong. Sonny had found bullets and silver knives hidden in his wardrobe.

Elliott cried when Sonny sent him away. He apologized a thousand times, but it wasn't enough. Sonny's first rule was to leave violence out of the house, and he was very serious about that. Elliott didn't want to tell him why he kept those things with himself, and Sonny couldn't let him stay.

So at 17 years old, Elliott was left completely alone. He ran away before he would be transported to an orphanage. Because he really was an orphan. His family was dead, his precious sister was dead, and his greatest friend had to leave.

He got a car and started hunting; he soon found out how to hack bank cards. Money wasn't a problem. He became a killer machine, nothing could stop him. Except for one thing.

There are just some things money can't buy and a knife can't kill.

It was a rainy day when he collapsed on the floor in the middle of a bar. The air was cold, and it was heavily raining, but in the bar it was warm. He was sitting at a table with some hunter "friends" when he got up to get another round of beer.

As soon as he stood up, he felt how hard it was to breathe and how hard it was to keep his eyes open. He lost consciousness, and people hurried to see what happened.

When he opened his eyes the next day, his so-called friends weren't there. Only a doctor was sitting in the room, and she soon told him the news.

She was wearing a white gown, and her blonde hair was braided. She pushed her glasses up her straight nose as she opened her pink lips to speak.

"Mr. Murdock, you have pancreatic cancer. I'm sorry, but we have to talk about what your choices are." The lady said, and Elliott didn't even know how to feel. He felt too stupid for not fully understanding what you mean.

"What do you mean? What are my choices?" Elliott said, and he just realized how tired he was. As he sat there in the comfortable hospital bed, he felt so small and weak. Something he hadn't felt in a while.

"The pancreas is deep inside the abdomen, so tumors can grow without being seen or easily felt. Unfortunately, it's too late for surgery, but we can try chemotherapy, radiation, or palliative care. But you have around 1 year left to live. On average, one and a half years. I'm so sorry."

Elliott's future disappeared in front of his eyes, and suddenly his whole life felt pointless. His whole life was full of pain and suffering alone, and now he found out he was destined to die alone too.

He never planned too much, not really. He didn't think of the future or the time when he would be old. He didn't think he would live to see his first grey hair grow out, but now that he was told that basically he wouldn't, it all felt too real.

He wasn't ready to die, he barely lived.

As he lay there, tears started falling from his eyes, but he wiped them away quickly. The woman put her hand on his and smiled at him softly.

"You will need multiple medicines: painkillers, digestive enzyme replacements, anti-nausea drugs, and sometimes insulin too, since the pancreas stopped making it."

Elliott felt so small and pointless, he heard as the woman sighed beside him as she stood up to close the window. He heard as the noise of the winds faded away, and he was left in the complete silence alone.

"I don't want any treatments." Elliott finally said with tears in his eyes, his voice cracking in the middle of the sentence.

The woman looked at him with sadness in her eyes. She didn't try to convince Elliott of anything, she didn't try to pressure him, and she didn't have the right to do so.

"From the outside, you may still look “normal” for a long time, maybe just a bit thinner or more tired. I'm so sorry, Mr. Murdock."

It felt like the woman just wounded him with her words. Elliott couldn't process all this information this swiftly. He needed time. Time, he didn't have.

The lady left the room, and Elliott was there alone again. He felt exhausted, but he stood up to go to the bathroom. When he entered the tiny space, he took a look at himself in the mirror.

But he wasn't ready to see what he had become. He looked like he had lost weight in a day, and he looked tired. Dark circles under his eyes and messy hair. His eyes looked so tired.

He wasn't ready to get weaker and weaker, but he decided to live the rest of his life naturally. Death will come for him when it's time.

After that, eventually from day to day he got weaker and weaker. He felt sicker every hour, and he just became so chronically tired. He spent more time sleeping and resting. He went on fewer hunts, and when he did, he chose easier ones.

But when he felt like hunting monsters like those was too easy and pointless, he decided to do something bigger before he died. And that's why he went to Wyoming to catch that serial killer. He honestly just wanted to do something valuable before he passes.

And then there he was, Dean. So many years later they met again, and Elliott felt his spark appear again. But when he saw how different Dean was, he felt a bit disappointed.

He was still grateful he had his best friend back, he just wanted him to be the same. He missed him so much, and it felt terrible that now he was dying. He didn't tell Dean about his illness because he didn't want him to be sad after he passes.

Elliott genuinely wanted to spend quality time with Dean, and now that he was sitting in that motel room all by himself, he felt empty.

Slowly, he regretted choking Castiel, he didn't intend to kill him. He just wanted justice for Dean. Elliott couldn't imagine what Cas might be going through, but he just couldn't forget about Dean.

Elliott felt like it was the end of the world. Dean was dying, and he was dying, and he wasn't ready to say goodbye to Dean. He was just so sad. Their reunion with Dean was not the freedom he wished for.

Elliott turned around and reached for his medicines on the bedside table. He took the painkillers, digestive enzyme replacements, anti-nausea drugs, and insulin in one take. He swallowed all the pills with a little water and then took a deep breath.

Looking around the room, he saw that his things were still left messy. This whole damn room was just so dirty and used, exactly how Elliott felt.

He tried to arrange his messy thoughts, but he just felt too much. He missed Dean, and he wanted to be there for him.

He was getting closer and closer to the end, and he could feel it. Doctors said he had a maximum of 1 and a half years, and he had already wasted 6 months of that.

He could feel how draining even simple days became, and he hated how weak he had turned. But what he hated even more was how he didn't have anyone with whom he could share his pain.

Chapter Text

When Dean opened his eyes, it was dark in the room. He blinked a few times, but his vision was still blurry.

He took a deep breath, and he lifted his arm to rub his eyes. As he did, his hand stopped in the air as the realization hit him hard. He could move his hand.

He remembered that earlier he couldn't move at all, and now that fear vanished, and suddenly he felt a spark of happiness. He pulled his lips into a modest smile, and he couldn't even hide how happy he felt.

He was able to lift his arm without even thinking about it. Earlier he felt trapped and terrified, but now he couldn't even believe that this was real.

He then, with a smile on his face, rubbed his eyes, and his vision was now clear. He moved his head, and that's when it hit him. The pain.

The smile disappeared quickly, and a painful expression took its place. He felt the wound on his back, but the feeling wasn't as intense as it was when he was self-conscious last time. He took a few deep breaths and managed to calm himself down.

He looked around the dark room; his only source of light was coming from the hallway. It was clearly the middle of the night, he figured.

The whole hospital seemed dead silent, but Dean still tried to catch some noise. He could feel the hospital gown stick to his skin, and it made him feel itchy.

Even in the dark, he could see the IV cannula inserted in his veins on his right arm. He didn't touch the small plastic tube, he just examined it with his eyes.

The silence surrounding him made him feel weird. He felt like something was missing. The absence of Cas' voice was odd.

He suddenly remembered what happened. He felt the weight of his memories, and he felt like he was relieving the whole mess that happened.

He could feel that consuming pain in his back and the blood sticking to his skin as they pushed him out of the room. He remembered his brother's face clearly and Castiel. He remembered how sad and worried Cas was when they dragged him away. It all felt too much.

He had a million questions, and nobody was there to answer them. How was he? Where was Castiel? Where were Sam and Elliott? What happened exactly?

As he lay there, he turned his head slightly and noticed the button that would call for a nurse. He thought about calling the nurse, but he hesitated. A part of him just enjoyed the silence and wanted to feel the quiet before he's surrounded by people again. He just wanted to think about Cas for a moment without being interrupted.

But if he really thought about it, he would rather see him than just think about him, so he put his finger on the button and pressed it.

Maybe nurses didn't know he was awake, and that's why he was alone. He assumed that his condition was really bad from what happened last time when he was half awake.

For a few minutes he sat there in silence, feeling happy and a bit nervous. He was excited to see Cas and be able to talk to him again, but he was scared too.

He was also scared of what his brother had to say. Dean felt guilty for leaving to save Cas without telling Sam. But he knew his brother, and it was the right choice for him.

He heard rushing footsteps, and moments later the door opened. Dean found himself looking at a young nurse standing in front of him.

She had a surprised look on her face as she opened her eyes to say something to Dean.

"Look who's back again! Dean, how are you feeling? Can you talk?" The woman said as she pulled her lips into a big smile. She seemed like the type of person to find good in everything.

Dean felt exhausted of her personality already as he opened his mouth to answer her. He kept his lips apart for a few seconds as he found himself afraid of what would come out of his mouth.

Then he brought himself to speak and said, "Uhh, yeah, yes, I can. My back hurts. "

His voice was raspy and low. He sounded hurt, and his voice cracked as he spoke. But that didn't seem to scare the nurse away as she stepped closer to Dean to check his vitals.

As she lifted her hands to put them on Dean's face, Dean flinched. The lady seemed confused as she pulled her hands back, and Dean felt ridiculous.

He couldn't even believe he flinched at something like this, and he felt embarrassed for it. He had dealt with so much worse, and now he reacted this way when someone was trying to help him?! He just didn't expect himself to feel or react this way.

The woman smiled at Dean again, but Dean didn't try to smile back at her. He just stared at her, feeling confused and tired.

"Your vitals are so close to good! I'm going to let your visitors know that you're awake. Is that okay?" The nurse asked, and suddenly he didn't feel exhausted.

"Yes, please." Dean said his voice was still uncertain, and he nodded.

Soon he was alone in the room again. It was still dark, with only a small lamp illuminating the room next to his bed. He felt a lingering pain in his back as he tried to pull himself into a sitting position. It was too painful to do that, too early, so he let himself fall back to the bed quietly.

The waiting drove him crazy. The emptiness inside him as he waited for someone to open the door again. It felt like an eternity, and he couldn't find anything to distract him.

Then suddenly the door opened with a loud noise, and Dean turned his head immediately. He saw his little brother stand in the door, but he didn't come in. It looked like he couldn't believe the situation himself.

Dean felt tears burning his eyes as he smiled at Sam softly. He saw as a single tear ran from Sam's eyes as she walked to Dean.

Sam sat down in the chair next to Dean's bed and didn't even wait for a word, he just hugged Dean. Dean felt his brother's warm body against his skin as he smiled proudly.

Dean put his hands around his brother as he felt Sam's hands cling to him. Sam held onto Dean's body like he never wanted to let go, and to Dean, this moment was so heartwarming. He felt like this moment was worth getting stabbed in the back.

It was a long time ago Dean felt this close to his brother, and he missed it so much. He heard as Sam started sobbing, still holding on to Dean.

Dean put his hand on his head, and he slowly stroked his hair, just like when he was little. When Sammy was a little child and John, their father, did something bad or mean, Dean used to stroke his little brother's hair to comfort him. And it worked every single time, including this too.

Sam finally let go of Dean, but Dean felt like he could kiss Sam forever. He saw how Sam's eyes were red and swollen, his hair was messy, and he was wearing his pajamas. Dean felt so loved in that moment that Sam rushed to him without even thinking.

They didn't say a word, they just stared at each other. Their eyes spoke louder than any words could, and that hug told Dean everything already. Still, Dean opened his mouth to break the silence.

"I'm sorry." He said as he saw the look on Sam's face turn into a confused one. Dean's first words to his brother after such a long time were him apologizing, and it broke Sam's heart.

Sam shook his head heavily and smiled at Dean softly.

"No, no. No, Dean, it's okay. You don't have to apologize. I'm just... I'm so happy that you're awake. "

"I'm happy too. I thought I was going to die. Dean said, his voice shaking as he thought back to the day when he got stabbed.

"Do you remember anything? I mean, your eyes were open, but you didn't react to anything, it was so scary. " Sam asked with a serious look on his face.

Dean felt goosebumps all over his body as he answered. "Yeah, I was… self-conscious... I just couldn't move, it hurt so bad. "

Sam hugged Dean once again, and he put his ear on Dean's chest as he listened to his heart beating. Dean felt like Sam was 11 again as he held him closely.

"I'm here now. I'm going to be okay." Dean said, and he felt okay as he said those words. After a long, long time, he finally felt like his words were true. Like saying he was okay wasn't just a lie anymore.

They sat there for a bit, and Dean forgot about his pain so quickly. His brother let go of him and stood up.

"I'm going to go tell Cas. He doesn't know you're awake yet. I'm sorry… I just rushed to you." Sam said as Dean felt that nervous and excited feeling mixed again.

Dean nodded as Sam left the room to get Cas. Dean pulled his fingers through his hair as he tried to make his hair look better. He felt stupid for even trying that when he couldn't change how tired he must look.

He waited in silence for what felt like forever when the door finally opened with a creaking sound and Castiel stepped in. He was wearing the same white hospital gown Dean was wearing, and his hair was messy. He looked like he just woke up from dreaming, probably because he just did.

His blue eyes looked special that day, and his soft pink lips and his flawless skin made Dean blush.

Sam wasn't in the room, he probably waited outside or something, Dean assumed.

Castiel had a worried and excited look on his face as he cut the distance between them. He rushed to Dean and stopped when he reached Dean's bed.

Dean stared at him in silence, and Cas kept looking at him too. Dean saw how badly bruised Cas' skin was, and he wished he could just erase them, but he wanted to touch his skin anyways.

A soft smile appeared on Cas' lips, and it lit up the whole room. Dean felt like his angelic smile could easily raise the dead. Dean smiled back softly at Cas as he sat up.

Castiel immediately put his hands on Dean's shoulder as he helped him without even knowing what Dean was trying to do.

Dean slipped slightly away on the bed, making enough space for Cas to sit down on the bed. Dean patted the bed, and Cas understood what he wanted without words too.

He sat down in a way that he was facing Dean, who was lying against the pillows on his back. Dean opened his mouth to say something, but Castiel was faster.

"Thank you, Dean." Dean heard the words, and it surprised him how good he felt hearing his voice again.

"You rescued me, and you almost got killed because of me." Castiel said, and Dean saw how guilty Cas was feeling really.

"I almost got killed for you. Never because of you." Dean said, and he saw how much these words meant to Castiel. And these words meant a lot to Dean too because every single word was true. The whole situation just felt so real and unreal at the same time.

"I would do it again. Anytime." Dean said as he saw Castiel shyly blush as he smiled at Dean.

"Come here." Dean said as he gestured towards the pillow next to him. Castiel didn't hesitate, he put his legs up on the bed, and he lay down next to Dean.

Dean could feel the nice and fresh scent of his hair, and it made him want to run his finger through his dark brown silky hair.

"What was it like for you? Before those monsters kidnapped you?" Dean asked curiously as he turned his head to look at Castiel. They were so close to each other.

"I woke up in a random town, and I travelled to Garden City, where I met a priest. His name is Father John Martin, and he gave me a home at the church. " Castiel stopped and smiled at Dean; he felt peace now that Dean was okay. Then he continued, "I had a job at the gas station nearby, the priest got me the job, and so I worked. It was hard. " He said as his voice cracked.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that alone. I wish I was there." Dean said he felt guilty for being absent.

"Sometimes I wished that too, but I needed to be independent just for once. I'm so glad you're here now."

"I'm glad too." Dean said as he looked in Castiel's eyes deeply. They were so close, Dean could feel Castiel's breath on his skin as they lay next to each other.

Dean glanced down at Cas' lips and then quickly brought his attention back to his eyes. Dean couldn't resist anymore, he took a look at his lips once again. Cas' lips were so pink, and they looked so soft Dean couldn't think of anything else.

Dean leaned closer and stopped for a minute to check if Cas was okay. Castiel kept looking at Dean's lips, so Dean felt more confident.

Dean slowly leaned in, closed his eyes, and pressed his lips against Cas' lips. The moment he tasted him, he knew he was right. Castiel's lips were so delicious and soft.

Dean felt Castiel put his hands on his cheeks as he deepened the kiss. Dean felt his tongue meet Castiel's teeth, and he smirked in the kiss.

Dean felt like everything clicked. Everything was right where it should be, and everything was perfect. Dean didn't even realize how much he longed for this kiss. And he had no idea how long Castiel had been waiting for it to happen.

Dean pulled away and looked at Cas while he smiled. Castiel pulled his lips into an honest smile too, his hands were still resting on Dean's cheeks.

Castiel pulled Dean back into a long kiss, and Dean felt so full finally. Like the void in his soul was finally filled and his life had a goal again. He knew how he would risk his own life for this man over and over again.

The kiss was long and passionate. When their lips parted, Dean was hungry for more. It seemed like none of them could stop smiling or touching each other.

Dean forgot about all of the pain and only focused on Cas' hair between his fingers. He played with his hair as he held him. The whole situation just made both of them so incredibly happy.

"I've been wanting to kiss you for such a long time." Cas said suddenly, and Dean felt his heart melt.

"I thought it was only me." Dean replied, and Cas laughed softly. That laugh was so angelic, Dean felt like he didn't deserve to hear it.

"Did you have any good experiences, though?" Dean asked suddenly, hoping Cas would make him feel better by saying something nice.

Castiel stayed silent for a moment, thinking about his answer, and then he answered in a calm voice.

"I had a good time at the local library. I had some meaningful conversations with Father John, and I held a baby."

"A baby?" Dean asked, he was surprised by the fact that Cas looked after a baby, and he was interested to hear the rest of the story.

"Yeah, she was the daughter of a woman who came to the church almost every day. I didn't hold her for long, but while I did, she laughed and smiled at me constantly.

The thought of Cas holding a little baby made Dean feel warm inside. It made him feel at peace. The images he dreamt about in the car ran through his mind as he looked at his love lying in his arms. The farm, the sunsets, the children running around. Sitting on the porch with wrinkles under their eyes looking at their beautiful children, Dean felt weirdly hopeful.

He let himself hope for a beautiful future, and he didn't know Cas was thinking about that too.

"Holding her felt so… I felt loved and appreciated." Cas finished his talking and looked at Dean.

Cas leaned closer and put his hand on Dean's neck as he pressed his lips against his. Dean felt those soft lips, and he kissed back. Their tongues met as Dean put his hands on Cas' cheeks. He felt his bruised but still perfect skin against his palm as they both pulled away slowly. Dean got closer and gave a brief kiss on Cas' lips.

They both looked at each other with that unforgettable love in their eyes. Like the world could be ending and they'd just want to kiss each other.

"Do you ever want to have a baby?" Castiel asked suddenly, and Dean felt deja vu. He looked at Cas, he tried to get out of answering the question. He did want to hold his own little baby one day, but he didn't think he deserved to. He was terrified he would act the same way his father did when Dean was young. Abusive and angry.

"You've asked this already. In the diner. Dean said, remembering the one time Cas asked him this and he said he deserved to be a father and that Dean would be a great one. Dean just couldn't really believe him.

"Things are different now." Cas said he saw how Dean was trying to avoid answering, but he couldn't find a reason why.

Dean looked at Cas with those typical guilt-ridden sad eyes, and Castiel understood immediately why he wasn't answering. He wanted to hear him say it, though.

"So?" Cas asked.

"Yes, I want children." Dean replied, but he didn't look at Cas. He stared at the wall, playing with his hands softly. Dean felt Castiel's bruised skin on his hand as he put his hand on Dean's.

"I know you, Dean. You don't have to fear turning into your father, you are so different. You will be the greatest father a baby could ever wish for... And I'll be there to help." Castiel said as he was unsure of the last words. He didn't want to pressure Dean or anything, he knew if they ever have children together, that's going to be far, far away in the future.

Dean showed a quick smile as he rested his head against Cas' shoulder.

"I wish I was still an angel. I could heal you." Castiel said honestly.

Dean's heart broke as he heard how guilty Cas sounded and how desperate he looked.

"It's okay, baby. I'll heal anyway, it just takes a bit longer. " Dean said, and he added. "Don't feel guilty, it's not your fault. I should've found you earlier. " Dean's voice was so quiet Cas almost didn't hear.

"Don't blame yourself either. I'm just so happy we're both alive." Cas said, and suddenly Dean asked something that made Castiel feel like he couldn't breathe. Luckily, Dean's head was resting on his shoulder, so he didn't see his reaction.

"Hey, do you know where Elliott is?"

Cas swallowed his past fears and shook his head. He didn't want to upset Dean yet, so he remained silent about the choking.

"No, no… I don't."

Dean sighed, and Cas heard from that sigh how hurt Dean was. He totally forgot about his pain, and so did Dean.

"I guess I dodged the reaper again." Dean joked darkly as he laughed a bit, that laugh hurt, so he stopped.

Cas' eyes widened at his joke, he couldn't understand why on earth Dean would joke about something like that.

"Don't say that, I couldn't take losing you." Castiel said in a sad voice.

"Yes, you could. You'd be better off without me." Dean said, and Cas didn't even know where this sudden change was coming from, but he didn't like it.

"Don't hate yourself so much, Dean. You are worthy of love, and I couldn't take losing you, I couldn't. Cas said as he gave a kiss on his forehead.

Soon, as Dean lay there, so close to Castiel, he fell asleep slowly. Dreams pulled him in, and he felt safe. He felt so safe in the arms of the man he loved.

Chapter Text

As Dean pushed the door of the bunker open, the lights turned on and he stepped in. The light illuminated everything the same way it was left behind.

A warm feeling washed over him as he inhaled that typical scent of the bunker. He finally arrived home after so many bad things happening, and he wasn't alone.

Castiel stepped in too, and he closed the door behind him. He put the bags from his hands on the floor and grabbed Dean's arm gently. Dean rolled his eyes, thinking he could get down the stairs by himself too, but he didn't let go of his hand.

It took Dean 3 weeks until he was finally able to stand by himself after the surgery in the hospital. Now, he was getting better and better. Doctors told them that Dean should rest for a couple of weeks and he shouldn't really lift anything.

So after 3 and a half weeks, they let Dean go home. Sam and Cas helped Dean get in the car, and Sam drove. Cas stayed with him in the backseat, and they first stopped by Sam's house. Dean felt weirdly happy that his brother was home now, and they said their goodbyes to Sam.

Cas drove the Impala back to the bunker, and they arrived just minutes ago. Dean didn't know anything about Elliott.

He thought maybe his friend would care about him or at least ask how he was, but that didn't happen. Elliott just left, and Dean felt sad about it.

They reached the bottom of the stairs, and Dean got out of Cas' grip. He was convinced he could do anything by himself, and that annoyed Castiel deeply.

As Dean looked around, nostalgia washed over him, and a thousand memories flooded his mind. He remembered all the times they got ready for hunts with his brother, the times when they would drink and talk with Elliott, and the times when they just sat there with Cas.

His lips turned into a proud smile, but that smile faded quickly when he saw a cup filled with something on the table in the library.

He assumed it would be filled with alcohol, because before they left, Dean was sure he drank a glass of whiskey, but he couldn't see it yet.

And that's when it hit Dean: how long has it been since he last drank? How long has it been since he felt the familiar taste on his tongue and got blackout drunk?

Dean frowned and looked back at Cas. Cas was packing or searching for something in their bags, not paying attention to details of the house.
Dean walked over to the table and grabbed the cup. He lifted the cup and put it to his lips. He then took a small sip, but when he tasted how bitter the coffee was, the look on his face turned into a grimace. It was coffee, not whiskey. That surprised him, and he guessed Elliott drank it, not him.

He knew for sure that the coffee was just left behind before they left. He put the cup down as he took a deep breath. He suddenly felt Castiel's hand on his shoulder, and he turned around.

"Are you okay?" Castiel asked with a worried expression on his face, and Dean nodded.

"It's just so good being home. It was weird and bad staying in the hospital for weeks. Dean looked around, he felt a pulsing pain in his back. He didn't pay attention to the pain; he always felt it, ever since getting stabbed.

"Are you hungry? I can make dinner if you want. " Cas said he was ready to help Dean in anything. Dean knew he still felt guilty about everything, but he also knew he wasn't helping because of feeling guilty.

Dean shook his head with a serious look on his face. He was thinking about Elliott again. He just couldn't figure out why he left so suddenly, and it felt awful not knowing anything.

"But you should eat something, Cas. You're so skinny. " Dean said he was worried about his weight. "Did you even eat anything while you were living in that church?"

Dean saw how modest and shocked Cas looked, standing there, looking at Dean as he shrugged.

"I sometimes had bread, nothing else really." Cas replied, and Dean felt his heart breaking. He felt like he should do something, anything, but he couldn't. And it made him suffer.

Dean couldn't really reply to that; he stood there with an apologetic look on his face as Cas smiled at him softly, and he turned back to the bags.

Dean saw as Cas lifted his bags and started walking towards his room with them. He followed them, but when he went by Elliott's room, he stopped.

He pushed the door open slightly and peeked in. His eyes widened when he saw all his belongings were left there. He wasn't expecting him to leave without his things. But the fact that his things were still in the bunk gave Dean hope.

Maybe he would come back for his things, and they could talk. Dean wanted to at least say goodbye to his long-lost friend before he left for good.

Dean heard footsteps, and he turned his head. Castiel was headed his way, but Dean didn't move. When he reached Dean, they stood silently.

"Do you think he's coming back?" Dean asked, out of the blue, surprising Cas. Cas didn't know what to say, he didn't want to be dishonest with Dean.

"I don't know." Cas replied, and Dean saw the way he didn't look at him. Cas kept staring at his hands, and Dean frowned.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Dean asked gently. He was worried about Cas. He had been quiet the whole day. Dean noticed that, but still he didn't say anything, he assumed Cas would tell him when he wanted to.

Castiel looked up, and Dean knew something was wrong. That look in his ocean blue eyes and his overall expressions told him. Dean felt his heartbeats quicken as anxiety built up in his body. He was nervous about what Cas was about to say.

Then Cas tilted his head slightly to the right while keeping eye contact with Dean. Suddenly, Castiel rushed by Dean, leaving him there. Dean was surprised by his action, but he wasn't going to leave it like that. He turned around and went after Cas.

He followed him with quick footsteps. Every step made his back hurt even more; he could feel every stitch on his wound as he hurried. He didn't care, he felt like this was more important than his stupid wound.And when they left the hallway, Dean grabbed Cas' shoulder.

Cas turned out, and Dean for once didn't understand what his problems were. He didn't recognize that look on his face, and it broke his heart.

"Castiel, hey, you can tell me anything. You know that, right? " Cas nodded, and a tear shed from his eyes, Dean stepped closer. "So what's wrong?"

Cas looked down and then right back at Dean's eyes. Cas didn't want to upset Dean by telling the truth, but he had to. Dean had to know why Elliott won't come back. He had to know.

"When you were in surgery... uh, I was in my room." Dean heard how his voice cracked, but Cas continued. "Elliott came in, and he was just so angry. He told me it was all my fault, and I believed him.

Dean cut off Cas to comfort him right away. "It's not your fault, Cas. It's not."

Then Cas held the eye contact in silence, and when he opened his mouth to say something, Dean listened.

"He tried to kill me." Cas admitted as some more tears ran from his eyes. The sentence was weird. Dean didn't believe what he had just heard, he blinked a few times, but nothing changed.

He opened his mouth to say something, but then he closed it. He didn't know what to say, he was stunned speechless. Dean put out his hand and covered his mouth with it, thinking. But he couldn't gather his thoughts.

It was all just too shocking to him, and he was genuinely speechless. His childhood best friend tried to murder his love. He couldn't believe that Elliott would do such a thing.

And then it hit him. He remembered all the times Elliott said Cas made him weak and how an angel was also a monster. The signs were clear, he was just too blind to see them.

Guilt washed over him. If he had noticed these signs earlier, Castiel wouldn't have had to go through all that hell. He looked up at Cas as he realized he didn't even know how Elliott tried to kill him.

"Ho—How?" Dean asked as his voice cracked, he felt tears blur his vision.

"He choked me."

These three words broke Dean's heart into guilt, shame, and anger. He was not expecting his beloved friend to be such a backstabbing traitor. He felt the betrayal deeply, and now tears ran from his face.

He just wished he knew it. He wouldn't have missed Elliott or wished he was here. He felt guilty for even thinking about him.

Cas was sobbing, and Dean pulled him into a tight hug. He held him close to his broken heart, hoping his embrace would fix him. Dean heard the way Cas cried in his arms, and tears still ran silently from Dean's face as well.

Cas broke the hug and told Dean that he needed a moment. Dean suggested they sit down, and so they did.

Not long after Cas' confession, they went to the library and sat down. Dean quickly went to the kitchen to get them something to drink.

Castiel insisted on going to get the drink, but Dean felt like he could do it on his own, and he didn't want to use Cas for things he could do. He was still slow, but he tried his best.

He grabbed the nearest bottle of whiskey and went back to the library. Cas was sitting there, waiting patiently. He wasn't crying anymore, he didn't have tears left.

Dean poured a drink for the both of them and sat down. He sighed, and he just realized how tired he actually was. His back still hurt.

He saw as Cas lifted his glass of alcohol to his lips and took a small sip and then took another one. They shared glances and had a nice conversation, but Dean wasn't really there.

Dean was slightly detached. He heard the words Cas said, and he understood as well. He even answered to keep the conversation going, but he wasn't there. He didn't care where the small talk was heading.

He felt stained by the guilt, he felt dirty. He wished he had rescued Cas earlier. He wondered what would've happened if he had seen Elliott's signs. It was all too personal to him.

Dead didn't touch his glass of whiskey. He stared down at the alcohol, buried in his thoughts. He just realized how long it has been since he last tasted alcohol.

And he felt happy he didn't miss it until now. He was scared to drink it because maybe he couldn't stop this time. He couldn't ruin their relationship with Cas because of his alcoholism.

Because that's what it was. Alcoholism. It took a long time for Dean to admit it, but he was addicted to that bittersweet taste of whiskey. And beer and wine and everything that had even the slightest amount of alcohol in it.

He had his hand on the glass, but he didn't drink any. He took back his hand and rested it on his thigh. He decided not to drink.

He hadn't drunk in a while, mostly because he didn't have time, but he even forgot about it. And he was glad that he did. He decided not to ruin this streak for nothing.

As long as he had Castiel by himself, he knew he would feel good without the alcohol too. Dean pushed the glass a bit further away from himself so it wouldn't be in his sight, and he joined back into the conversation.

Castiel saw how Dean pushed the whiskey away, but he didn't say anything. He couldn't even imagine how big of a war was happening inside of Dean's head at the moment.

Hours later Dean was still sitting there staring at the glass of whiskey. Cas was already sleeping in his room, he was too tired and decided to go to bed.

Dean didn't blame him, of course. After all, Cas was kidnapped and tortured, and he was still just recovering. Dean was exhausted too, but he couldn't close his eyes. Not yet.

He didn't drink. A year ago, he would've been drowning in alcohol, he couldn't just walk away.

He suddenly stood up, and with the aching pain in his back, he walked into the kitchen. He poured the whiskey down the drain. He felt the bitter smell of the drink as it disappeared forever, mixing together with whatever was in the drain.

He took a deep breath, he was ready to sleep now. He walked back to the library and turned the green light on the table off.

It was dark, but still somehow that darkness showed him the light. And it guided him to his bed, where Castiel was sleeping.

The mattress shifted under his weight as he sat down. He lay down and heard Castiel yawn. The moment made Dean smile softly as he turned to his side.

Cas was facing him in his sleep, and Dean just stared at his beautiful resting face. He looked so peaceful, Dean wished he wasn't so sleepy. He wanted to keep watching him, but he was too tired. Dreams pulled him in as he fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Dean and Castiel were lying on Dean's bed, Cas' head resting on Dean's shoulder. It was dark in the room, with only the light of the TV illuminating the small place.

Dean's window was opened, the cool late spring air filling the room. The bunker was close to the forest, they could hear some animal noises along with the sound of leaves touching as the wind blew them.

In the room it was cool, but not cold. A blanket covered the couple as they lay there, watching the TV.

An old comedy was on that Dean had already seen when he was a child. He remembered his dad showing him the movie while his brother, Sammy, was sleeping in the other room. Cas hadn't seen the movie, though, so Dean was desperate to show it to him.

Dean felt Castiel's hand resting on his, and it made him feel comforted.

It had been months since they let Dean out of the hospital and got home. Dean was beyond grateful for Cas, because he stayed and helped him in everything. Even when Dean was too stubborn to ask for help, Cas was there reaching for him.

They complemented each other very well. Dean's back didn't hurt as intensely as it did before; his pain had faded away by that time. It was still there, but he often forgot about it. He had other, better, things to focus on.

The movie was interrupted by a few minutes of ads, and the news started playing. Dean didn't listen at first; he was lost in his own mind. However, he felt Castiel's hand squeeze his hand, and that brought him back to the moment.

He looked at Cas and saw he was staring at the TV, so he turned his attention towards the news as well.

A lady, wearing a black dress, was sitting by a table and was talking. A few videos and images were shown as they listened.

"The killer is attacking families with newborn babies. 3 families had already been brutally murdered under mysterious circumstances, and the police are investigating the case. Please, if you hear or know anything, contact the local Wichita police station.

The woman kept talking, going into details, but Dean didn't really listen. He knew all he needed to know. He frowned and looked down at Cas. He smiled softly and sat up on the bed.

Under mysterious circumstances? Newborn babies? Wichita? Dean didn't know for sure it was something supernatural, but he suspected it was. Wichita was only a 3-hour drive, so it wasn't far away from them at all.

He turned to face Cas, who was looking at him already. The light from the TV lit his face up. His nearly black hair looked so soft, and his lips so pink.

"Do you think we should go?" Castiel asked, and he sat up too.

"Maybe. Wichita isn't far from here, and this seems like an easier case. Dean answered, but he wasn't sure.

They hadn't been on a hunt since they got back from the hospital. Mostly because of Dean's injury, but also because they didn't have the right case.

"Do you think you're ready? I mean, you're back... Is your health condition ideal?" Castiel asked; he sounded worried too.

Dean sighed and took a moment to think. His back didn't hurt like that anymore, and this case seemed like a good one. The type that makes you feel the victory and not the loss. He slowly nodded and leaned closer to Cas.

"I think I am. But are you?" He asked, and Castiel's mood shifted. Cas sighed and remembered the actions of their last hunt. When the ghost was there and was trying to kill Dean, he didn't say anything. He remembered the girl who sacrificed herself for Dean.

But that was all in the past, and Cas wanted to learn how to take care of himself. He wanted to be a better hunter, and the only possible way to improve his skills was hunting.

Dean saw how nervous Cas was, and he put his hand on his thigh. Cas nodded and looked up to Dean.

"I'm ready, really."

Dean wasn't sure if he should completely believe him in this or not, but he trusted him with his life, so he decided to trust him this time too.

"Alright then, tomorrow morning I'll drive to Wichita and we'll end this." Dean said as he lay back on their bed.

Dean saw the way Cas was sitting there, thinking about everything, and he grabbed his hand. Dean pulled Cas to his chest; Cas' head rested on his shoulder as the comedy continued.

Dean could feel how anxious Cas was about this. Dean stroked his hair quietly, hoping it would make him feel more relaxed.

"We don't have to go if you don't want to, you know." Dean said softly that he wanted to let Ca know that it wasn't that important to him. A hunt was just a hunt.

"No, no, we'll go." Cas replied, and Dean nodded to himself silently. If Cas insisted they go, it's going to be an easy hunt, and they need it.

Dean didn't focus on the film after their little talk ended. He felt the actions of the last few months weigh on his eyes, but he tried to keep them open. He didn't want to sleep yet; he felt like this moment was nearly perfect, and he would stay in the moment forever.

However, exhaustion won over his body, and he felt his eyes close, and he fell asleep quickly. He felt the way dreams begin appearing, but his dream that night wasn't actually a dream; it was one of Dean's most beautiful memories replaying in the back of his mind.

Dean was sitting in the kitchen by the table while Cas was standing in front of the oven with a piece of paper in his hand.

That was their second week alone in the bunker after Dean was released from the hospital. It was late at night, but Cas was hungry. Dean noticed how he always was. He assumed it was because he barely had any food for weeks when he was homeless.

Dean wanted to buy every kind of food that existed for Cas. He wanted to gain back that weight that he lost, it wasn't critical, but it was noticeable.

Not that Dean didn't find him gorgeous and attractive; it was just that he was concerned for his health. So whenever Cas felt hungry, Dean rushed him to the kitchen.

Dean would usually make him some easier food or make Cas drive to a restaurant. But that night, it was already too late for a restaurant, and Dean was way too exhausted to cook.

He felt that lingering pain in his back as he was sitting there, resting by the table.

Cas held a recipe in his hand, and Dean chuckled at Castiel's facial expression. He frowned, and he looked way too confused; it made Dean smile.

Dean looked at him with hope in his eyes. For the last 2 weeks, ever since they got home, they couldn't stop kissing. Dean was always hungry for his lips, and Cas had been starving for Dean's touch for the longest time.

"Cas, what are we?" Dean asked suddenly, without even thinking. They kissed, of course, but they hadn't gone further yet. And they hadn't discussed what their relationship really was.

Cas lowered the recipe in his hand and looked at Dean with a serious look on his face. He then stared at Dean and secretly appreciated how lucky he was to have Dean by his side.

"I think we are what you would call a couple." Cas said, Dean thought he looked so innocent standing there.

"I thought the same, I just wanted some kind of confirmation." Dean said.

"Well, I can confirm, I suppose." Cas answered, and Dean chuckled. The sound of his laughter made Cas' lips pull into a soft smile too.

Hours later, Cas finished his meal, which Dean couldn't really consider a meal. It proved to Dean that Cas really had to improve his cooking skills along with his hunting skills.

Now they were lying in Dean's bed, but Dean considered the bed their bed instead of his. Dean's head was resting on Castiel's shoulder, and their hands were interlocked under the warm blanket covering them.

The TV was on, but Dean didn't really watch it. Dean pulled himself into a sitting position as he felt Castiel's eyes on his body. He turned to face Cas, and he met with his ocean blue eyes. He felt like he could drown in them.

He leaned closer and gave a quick kiss on Castiel's lips. He was so close to him, he could feel his breath on his skin. Dean leaned closer once again, he felt Cas' stubble against his cheek as he pushed his lips against his.

Their kiss was tender and passionate. Dean felt Castiel's tongue against his lips, and he let it in. Dean's hand lingered against the side of Castiel's face, and he felt Cas' hand on his waist.

Cas pulled away, and Dean noticed that hungry look in his eyes. Dean didn't look away, not this time. Dean wanted more, and the lust in Cas' eyes whispered to him that Cas wanted more too.

Their lips touched again as Dean's fingers grabbed Cas' shirt and he pulled away, breaking the kiss. Dean pulled the shirt over Castiel's neck, exposing his bare chest.

Cas looked skinny, but Dean found him perfect in every way. Their lips touched again, and Dean ran his fingers along his chest. Cas kept his hands on Dean's torso as he lay down on the bed. Dean towered over him, and they continued kissing passionately.

The blanket slipped from Dean's hip as Cas' rough fingertips brushed against his skin. Dean pulled his shirt over his neck, and he felt skin touch his skin immediately. They shared another kiss, and Dean felt Cas' mouth move down to the line of his throat.

They didn't notice when the screen of the TV turned off or when the lights went out. They didn't pay attention to the blanket falling from the bed, only the rush of the heat between them. Every touch felt like something they had been yearning for for what felt like an eternity.

Dean opened his eyes, and when he looked to his side, he found a peaceful Castiel sleeping next to him. That warm feeling stayed after the memory Dean had just relived in his dream faded and he got up.

He slowly shook Cas, but he didn't really want to wake him. They had to get going, though, if Cas really meant going on this hunt.

"Hey, wake up, baby." Dean said, his voice still raspy and low.

Cas opened his eyes slowly and rubbed them as he yawned. He saw Dean sitting on the edge of the bed. His hair was messy, and there were dark circles under his sleepy eyes.

"What time is it?" Dean heard Cas ask as he looked at the clock by his drawer. It was around 6.30. Early. Way too early.

"Time to get ready." Dean simply said, and he got an annoyed look from Cas for that.

Dean stood up and stretched his back a bit; he could feel the stitches on his wound as he moved. It didn't hurt much, he considered it okay.

"Are you sure about this, Cas? You seemed so hesitant yesterday. It's fine with me if you don't want to do it; just tell me. Dean said with a serious look on his face as he stood there.

Castiel didn't respond at first; he seemed to take his time thinking it through carefully. Then after a few silent seconds, Cas nodded and said, "I'm sure we're ready for this. Let's hunt and catch a monster."

Dean nodded and smiled proudly, he knew Cas would say yes to the hunt. He just wasn't sure he would actually want to do it. But he trusted him, and if Cas said yes, it meant yes.

Dean got dressed; he put on some jeans along with a T-shirt with the title 'Metallica' on it. He made breakfast for the two of them while Cas got ready too.

They ate their meal in peace, sharing some playful glances. Dean made toast for breakfast, and Cas enjoyed every bite of it.

Then, while Cas did the dishes, Dean packed their weapons, and he also put in some clothes for the two of them. They shared the same closet since Castiel didn't have any clothes of his own. Castiel gained some weight after getting back to the bunker, and Dean's clothes fit him just fine.

Dean didn't mind sharing; he actually really liked it. Seeing Cas wearing his clothes made him smile and smirk every time.

After the packing was finished and the dishes were done, they found themselves sitting in the Impala, Dean's hands on the wheel. He started the car, and their road began.

Their road to Wichita was almost 3 hours long, but Dean considered that an especially short ride. He looked over to Cas, who was staring out the window, and he smiled to himself. He turned his attention back to the road and kept driving.

__________

Sweet moments turned into minutes, and their road ended before they even realized 3 hours had already passed. They shared joyful conversations, and Dean kept joking, and Cas kept laughing.

When Dean turned the key in the car, stopping the car, he felt disappointment wash over him. He didn't want to get out of the car, not yet. After all, Dean was sitting in his beloved car with his beloved one.

He took a look at Cas before getting out of the Impala, he took the view in. After he got out, he put a gun with silver bullets in his pocket just in case.

His mouth slightly opened at the sight when Castiel closed the car's door. He was wearing a suit; they both were. Cas looked so formal and hot, he looked professional.

They walked in the sheriff's office. Dean opened the door and saw that the sheriff was talking on the phone. They stepped closer and waited until the man said goodbye to the person talking on the end of the line. Then, when he did, Dean approached him.

"Good afternoon, sheriff. My name is Agent Reed, and this man here is my partner, Agent Rogers." Dean introduced them with his typical confident voice.

Dean saw Castiel extend his hand to shake hands with the sheriff, and the sheriff extended his to do the same. The man smiled at Cas, and Dean frowned, he didn't smile at Dean. Dean shook his hand too as he continued.

"We're here to investigate the newborn killer case."

"But why did they send three agents separately?" The sheriff asked as he looked at Dean. The man seemed confused, and now Dean was too. He looked at Cas, who tilted his head to his right, Dean knew Cas had no idea either.

"What do you—" Cas asked, but the words stuck in his throat; he didn't finish the sentence. His eyes widened, and fear washed over him as memories came flooding back.

Dean noticed the change in his mood as he turned in the direction where Cas was looking, and then his eyes widened too. He couldn't even imagine how scared Cas must be feeling.

Dean reached for Castiel's hand silently and took his hand, squeezing it without taking his eyes off the man standing at the door of the sheriff's office. Elliot.

Chapter Text

Dean didn't move, and to him it felt like the whole world froze. He felt his heartbeats quicken, and the only thing he heard was his anger whispering in his ear to kill Elliott.

He could touch the tension in the air, and he could feel how scared Cas was. Dean was angry. No, he was furious.

He saw the way Elliott stood there, still. In his suit and necktie, with a shocked expression on his face. Nobody moved, and then the silence was broken by the sheriff.

"Are you three partners?" The man asked, but Dean ignored him, he couldn't take his eyes off Elliott. He could feel his anger boiling in his blood, but then his rage faded when he heard Castiel speak.

"Yes, uh, we're partners." Castiel said, his voice shaking. Dean could feel how anxious he was just by hearing the tone of his words.

Dean didn't want to ruin their disguise, so he closed his eyes and pursed his lips together. He hoped Elliott would disappear when he opened his eyes, but he wasn't so lucky.

"Agent, we need to talk. Outside. " Dean said in a voice no one would question. He demanded, and he turned around and then stopped. "Now." He said harshly.

Dean let go of Cas' hand and whispered in his ear quietly but softly, "Stay here, okay?"

Cas nodded, and Dean left the office. Outside he walked to the side of the small building, waiting for Elliott to show up, not so patiently.

Dean couldn't hold it in; he tried so hard to stay calm and strong. But as he saw his old friend step outside of the office, a tear shed from his eyes.

Dean stood there, anger rushing through his veins as he watched Elliott walk closer. When he finally was close enough, Dean didn't hesitate.

Dean lifted his right arm and struck. His fist collided with the skin of Elliott's jaw, and Dean felt the pain suddenly appear in his fist along with his back, lightly pulsing.

He saw the blood drip from his enemy's lips and nose, and he lifted his fist to strike again. But then he saw the way Elliott flinched.

Dean saw the way Elliott pulled away and lifted his hands to cover his head, and Dean put his arm down. Dean saw the little boy, whose dad used to beat him in Elliott, and Dean couldn't hurt that boy.

Dean hit the wall instead, letting his anger out. With that last punch, all his frustration and anger left his body, leaving the disappointment and pang of betrayal.

Dean felt another tear shed from his eyes; even when he tried to stay strong, he tried not to cry so hard and still failed.

The way Elliott stood in front of him, with a single tear running down his bloody face, made Dean feel like he did something he wasn't supposed to.

Dean felt guilty for hitting his friend, but he wasn't sure if he was still his friend.

"Why?" Dean asked, his voice cracking with tears in his eyes and blood on his fists.

Dean shook his head slowly, but Elliott didn't move. Dean saw the tear fall from Elliott's eyes and land on the cold ground.

"I thought I was protecting you. I'm so sorry. Elliott said he looked in Dean's eyes, hoping to find the old Dean there. But he was nowhere to be seen.

Dean didn't feel like forgiving him, and he had a feeling he wasn't going to feel that way ever.

He took a step closer to Elliott; he was so close he could feel his breath on his skin. Dean grabbed Elliott's collar and pulled him closer.

"If you ever touch him again, I will kill you. I'll make myself forget about our friendship and just cold-bloodedly murder you." Dean said in a cold, demanding voice. "Got it?"

Elliott nodded, but that didn't satisfy Dean.

"I want to hear it."

"I got it." Elliott said, his voice wasn't hesitant, and it sounded honest to Dean.

Dean let go of him and took a step back, not taking his eyes off him. It was so hard to believe all this was actually happening. He couldn't accept the fact that his best friend tried to kill his love by choking him while Dean was in critical condition.

Dean hoped he wouldn't see Elliott ever again, but not only because he was angry at him. He was also hurt, and he didn't want to deal with all his bottled-up feelings.

And now he had to, and it was all Elliott's fault. He felt guilty for even thinking about Elliott after Cas told him about the choking. And whenever he appeared in his dreams or a precious memory popped up in his head, he wanted to forget about him. He would do anything to forget, and that was the only thing he couldn't do.

"I know all about this case; you don't. Let's make this our last hunt together." Elliott said, but he sounded so unsure.

Dean frowned and shook his head, covering his mouth with his hand. He couldn't work with him, he couldn't put Cas in that situation.

"No." Dean said it simply, and Elliott's mood shifted. From unsure to even more unsure.

"Dean—" He started, but Dena cut him off immediately.

"Don't Dean me! You tried to kill Cas! You almost murdered the man I love!" Dean shouted angrily, and Elliott took a step back.

"I know. I'm so sorry, I thought I was doing justice. Just this one hunt before… Please." Elliott said, but he didn't finish the sentence. He didn't want to tell Dean about his illness, and he almost spilled. He just wanted this to be their last hunt together; it seemed like a sign to him. Meeting his best friend like that.

"I really know everything. I know what monster it is and who it is going for. I know where the recently kidnapped family is and why it keeps kidnapping families with newborns! Please, Dean, I really could help." Elliott practically begged, and Dean tried to ignore it, but he couldn't.

He wanted to take Cas home as soon as he could after meeting Elliott. He knew how traumatized Cas was, and so he wanted him to get home as soon as he could.

And if Elliott really did know everything, he could just give him his knowledge, and they could end things already. He had to talk to Cas before doing anything. He wasn't alone anymore.

"Please." Dean heard Elliott say as he passed by him, leaving him by the side of the building.

Dean walked back inside, where Cas was talking with the sheriff. Dean apologized to the man and pulled Cas to the side. He looked up at him with hope in his eyes.

"He says he knows everything. He wants to hunt together for one last time. Dean said the facts, waiting for Cas' response.

Castiel took a deep breath, trying to arrange his thoughts and feelings. He breathed slowly as he looked back up at Dean.

"Why?" That was all he asked.

"I want to end this hunt already and go home; I know you want that too. Maybe he really could fasten things up before the family dies." Dean explained why he would be able to work with the traitor for one last time.

Cas shook his head and said, "No, I meant why would he want that?"

Dean sighed and smiled softly. "He said he was sorry, I think he just wants closure of our friendship."

Castiel took a time to think and then sighed. He nodded, agreeing to the plan to work with Elliott. "Okay." Cay said, and Dean smiled softly.

Dean leaned closer to Cas and kissed him on the lips briefly. Cas pulled his lips into a modest but honest smile and tilted his head to the side.

__________

"So what are we hunting?" Castiel asked as he started chewing on his burger.

The three of them were sitting in a restaurant, having lunch. They all ordered burgers with french fries and some salad. Dean thought it might be a good idea to figure things out while eating.

"A ghost." Elliott said as he took another bite from his burger.

"What's the story? Why is it kidnapping newborns and their families?" Dean asked curiously. He still had that uneasy feeling under his skin.

"So I did my research, and the ghost is a man who killed himself 4 years ago. His name was Lucas Owen, and his wife, Callie, murdered their newborn child, and then Lucas ended his own life too. I think he wants revenge by killing babies to make their parents feel what he felt."

"Oh, and he only kidnaps families with no alive relatives; this is important. So the family is only the mother, father, and the newborn. No siblings, no grandparents, no aunts or uncles. No one. " Elliot added quickly.

Elliott finished and took another bite. Dean took a moment to think and then opened his mouth to ask a question, but Elliott answered it before Dean could ask it.

"I think he murders the child first and then the family, but it could be different. The ghost is kidnapping them, and I think he keeps them in a warehouse that's near. "

"You only think that?" Cas asked and frowned.

"Yeah, well, according to what the sheriff said, they were all found in different places. But all these places were close to the warehouse, so I wondered why the warehouse. And get this, Lucas killed himself there. "

Elliott finished chewing, and his plate was empty now. Dean nodded slowly as he took the new information in. He glanced at Cas, who also just finished his meal.

"Then we're going to the warehouse and save the family." Dean said as he stood up.

"An infant who was just born 5 days ago must be there with the family. They were kidnapped 1 day ago, and in the other cases the ghost probably kept them there for 2 days, because their bodies were found after 3 days of their disappearance. So we still might have a chance." Elliott stated hopefully as he stood up as well.

Cas took his last bite and stood up; his mouth was full of food that he hadn't chewed on yet. Dean found it adorable, and he softly smirked at him as they left the restaurant to get to the warehouse.

__________

Dean got out of the Impala, and he saw Elliott's car parked next to his car. Cas got out of the car too, and they looked at each other.

Dean knew how scared Cas was really, but he was trying to hide his fear. Dean stepped closer and ran his fingers on his cheek.

"Don't fear, Cas. We'll kill the ghost, save the family, and go home." Dean said, and Ca nodded slowly.

"I just… I have a bad feeling about this." Cas said, and Dean shook his head confidently.

"Don't do this, we'll be home in a few hours." Dean begged Cas as they all started walking towards the warehouse.

The warehouse wasn't as huge as Dean imagined it to be, but it was still big. The walls were painted black, and there were several trees nearby.

The cool spring breeze hit Dean's face as he looked up. He put his hand up to cover the sun as he stared at the clouds appearing in the sky. He liked this kind of weather, it was nice and cool.

They finally reached the door of the warehouse, and they all took their guns and knives out. Cas had some salt in his hand, and Dean pushed the door open.

The only thing they didn't know was what object was tethering the ghost to the mortal world. Lucas' body was cremated, so there must be some object that keeps him here in the warehouse, and if they found it, the ghost would die.

As Dean stepped in with Cas and Elliott behind him, darkness covered the room. They closed the door behind them quietly as they started walking by the small hallway.

At first they didn't hear anything, but as they walked closer to the door at the end of the hallway, they heard someone talking. Dean couldn't hear the words, but he heard someone murmur something.

Dean shared a serious and careful look with Cas and then looked at Elliott, the more experienced hunter. Dean nodded, and they lifted their guns in front of themselves.

With a loud noise Dean kicked the door, and it fell open. The three of us stepped in the room, and Dean's eyes widened.

The man, Lucas, now a ghost, was standing there with an infant in his arms, talking to the little baby. The ghost didn't look up at them; he kept speaking to the baby.

Dean looked around and saw a man lying in the corner of the dark room. Blood surrounded his body, and his throat was sliced open. That must have been the father of the newborn; he was dead.

Then Dean's eyes met with the mother, who was barely alive, sitting close to her husband. Her clothes were covered in blood, Dean couldn't decide whose blood it was. She didn't seem to have much time, they had to hurry up.

"Lucas!" Dean heard Elliott call out, and he turned to look at him with wide eyes. What was he doing?!

"Look, I know what you feel like. But you don't have to show them what it's like losing someone you loved; you can—" Elliott was cut off by the ghost suddenly turning to them and flinging Dean and Cas against the wall.

At first Lucas seemed so broken, but now Dean knew he was just another ghost.

The ghost pinned Elliott to the wall by the throat, choking him as he put the infant down in an old crib.

Dean tried to get free, but he couldn't; it was like he was glued to the wall. Then, he heard the baby start crying, and he saw the ghost turn away from Elliott.

He felt the grip of the ghost loosen, and Dena knew that was his chance. He gathered all his strength together and took out his gun. He shot at the ghost as Lucas turned to look at him.

Dean could see how Elliott was finally able to breathe, and a mean thought crossed Dean's mind. He suddenly remembered how Elliott choked Cas, and he felt like Elliott deserved it.

Dean shot again as the ghost got closer; Cas was standing behind him. He saw Elliott get up and run to the crib. As he did, Lucas turned, and he suddenly appeared in front of Elliott.

"A blanket soaked in blood! It's in the crib! That's what we're looking for. " Elliott shouted to them, and Dean looked over to the crib where the baby was crying.

The semidarkness and the baby crying made Dean feel like it was all too much. He just wanted to end it already and move on.

"Got it!" Cas yelled back as he stepped closer.

Dean saw Elliott hesitate, and he frowned, not knowing what Elliott was thinking. He saw him pull a lighter out of his pocket, and Dean was just about to open his mouth when Elliott made a split-second decision.

He charged through the ghost as he reached for the blanket. Dean's eyes widened as he saw how much the ghost's touch hurt Elliott. Dean's father told him that if you step through a ghost, his touch will burn you and freeze you at the same time. That was happening to Elliott that moment too.

"No! No!" Dean screamed loudly, tears rolling down his face.

Elliott looked back at Dean and whispered "sorry" to him before grabbing the blanket. Dean didn't hear what he said, but he knew he was apologizing.

"I'm doing the right thing, Dean!" Elliott shouted, and Dean wanted to shout back a loud and clear "no," but he wasn't fast enough.

Then Elliott lit the blanket on fire, and the ghost screamed. Elliott was still connected to the ghost, and as Lucas burned, Elliott burned too.

Dean was now screaming and crying loudly, he couldn't hold it back. His childhood best friend was being burnt alive in front of his eyes.

Dean couldn't believe Elliott sacrificed himself for this hunt. Dean didn't want to believe he was gone.

Dean felt the smell of smoke, and he closed his eyes. The ghost now disappeared, and Elliott wasn't burning anymore. The lifeless corpse lay there, smelling terrible. Dean kept his eyes closed.

It was silent now. Dean didn't hear anything but Elliott's last words in his ear echoing. Dean opened his eyes and saw his friend lying there, and he turned around.

As he did, with tears in his eyes, he saw the frightened look on Cas' face as he stood there staring at the corpse. Dean looked down; he didn't want to face Cas.

Dean felt the guilt wash over him as he cried. He felt like feeling that way was a sin. Elliott choked Cas, he tried to murder him, and Dean still felt the absence of him. Dean still grieved. He was sad that his oldest friend died in front of his eyes in such a horrible way, but he couldn't forget what he did.

He didn't know what to do or what to feel like. He didn't want to look at Cas, he felt like he didn't deserve to. He thought Cas would hate him for feeling sad that Elliott died, and he couldn't deal with that.

Dean felt the tears roll down his face as he looked up and wondered why. Why would God put him through all that? Why would all this happen to him? But he didn't get an answer, he never did.

Chapter Text

Castiel kneeled down, and his finger touched the mother's neck. She was lying on the cold ground, and Cas tried to check if she was still alive.

He felt her bruised skin against his fingertips, but he didn't feel anything else. He closed his eyes as he realized the mother was dead too.

Cas put his hand on her forehead and brushed her hair out of her face. She was pretty, he thought. Big brown Bambi eyes with long brown hair with bangs.

She looked over to the man lying next to her, his chest covered in blood. He checked his pulse just to be sure, but he was also dead.

Cas stood up and turned around. Dean was sitting on the floor next to Elliott's corpse, tears quietly running from his face. Cas sighed.

He shouldn't have agreed to go on this hunt ever. Cas considered it a bad decision; he knew it was a bad decision when he saw Elliott standing at the sheriff's office. He knew it was a bad decision when Dean talked him into working together, and he knew damn well it was a bad decision when Elliott grabbed that dirty blanket.

Cas didn't blame Dean for crying; he understood that he had just lost someone precious to him. Cas didn't say a word to him; he let him grieve in peace. They can talk about it later, he thought.

He was shocked too. When he first saw Elliott, he feared and wanted to disappear so badly. All the bad memories and his trauma were flashed in front of his eyes when Elliott appeared in front of him. But Dean trusted him, so Cas did too.

And when Elliott sacrificed himself to save the both of them, Cas was purely shocked. It was just so unexpected, and it all happened so fast. Cas had no idea what kind of war must be going on inside of Dean's head. He had a little combat going on in his own mind too.

Cas looked so sad, looking at Dean sitting next to the burnt body of his childhood best friend. Cas hated Elliott, and he knew Dean tried hating him too. Cas didn't blame him for mourning him.

He just wanted to help him; he just wanted to erase his pain, but he just didn't know how to.

Then Castiel's eyes widened as he heard the cry of the infant, and he turned around. The baby was lying in the crib, her little hands stretching out towards him. Cas closed his eyes and took a deep breath, he totally forgot about the little baby girl.

He stepped closer and took a quick glance back at Dean, who was still sitting in the same position.

And then Cas turned his attention back towards the infant lying in the old crib. Despite all the terrible things that happened that day, a warm feeling washed over him.

He saw that tiny little human creature slowly stop sobbing as Cas pulled his lips into a soft smile. The baby was a little girl, Cas didn't know her name, though.

He reached for her and grabbed her carefully. He touched her skin, and he could barely believe how smooth her baby skin was. He lifted her and took her in his arms.

The baby stopped crying completely as Cas smiled at him with his teeth showing. Cas suddenly felt like all the actions of that day, all the horrible actions, were worth it. Because he got to hold a cute baby like her in his arms.

The world around him stopped existing as he leaned closer to her. He gave her a kiss on her cheek, and the baby smiled at him. And more surprisingly, the little girl laughed, and it melted Cas' heart.

He just couldn't get enough of this little girl smiling at him, she was so cute. Her red cheeks and tiny nose, along with her ocean blue eyes, made her truly special. She had a bit of hair too, and it was lighter brown.

Cas gently rocked the baby in his arms while the baby kept looking up at him, smiling. He slowly turned back to look at Dean, but his smile faded once he saw him.

Dean was staring at the body in front of him, but at least he wasn't crying anymore.

"Dean." Cas called out softly with the baby in his big arms.

Dean snapped out of his thoughts and looked up at him. That look in his eyes, Cas knew he would never forget. Dean looked a bit lost and so defeated. Then he saw the way Dean's mood shifted as he noticed that Cas was holding the baby.

Dean stood up; his motions were slow and painful, and he stepped closer to Cas. Dean had dark circles under his eyes, and his face was bruised, but Cas didn't remember when Dean got injured like that.

He just looked so exhausted. Cas felt like that war in Dean's head was over and he lost, but he didn't really know. The one thing he knew for sure was that Dean was tired.

Cas saw how much Dean wanted to go home, and he wanted to go too. But the little girl sleeping in his arms held him back.

Dean looks in Cas' eyes, they share the same question as they stare at each other. Cas looks down at the baby and then back at Dean.

"Dean… We should take her home." Castiel said, his voice was hesitant but still firm. Cas wasn't sure about this; of course he wasn't. He didn't know how to raise a child, but still. He felt kind of drawn to this child, he cared for her. Cas didn't want to leave her like that.

"Cas, that's not… We can't just take her like this…" Dean says as he takes a look down at the child. A long pause, silence surrounds them as they both keep thinking about what to do.

"Dean, she has no family. Elliott said that the ghost only attacked families without relatives. Cas took a deep breath, he just felt really bad for the baby. He didn't want to leave her alone to have the life of an orphan when he had the chance to offer her a better life.

"She'd be an orphan, who knows what kind of life she'd live?" Cas added and looked down.

Cas knew Dean had to process this idea and think it through, but even the thought that they would raise this child together made Cas smile. She made him smile. After all that happened, she turned off Cas' mind, and he hoped she'd do the same to Dean.

They stood there in silence as Dean processed the idea. Cas slowly touched that tiny girl's arm, looking for a name tag or bracelet. He didn't find anything. Did she even have a name?

She was only 5 days old, after all, and her mother and father were already dead. She deserved a chance and a loving family, parents who would love her.

"Nobody would know if we took her." Cas said, his eyes meeting with Dean's. Cas saw how Dean was still hesitant, but he saw that flicker of hope in his look. "They would think she died; they didn't even name her yet. All newborns have a name tag bracelet except her."

Dean didn't reply, not yet. He thought it through carefully, he thought about the dangers she'd have to face alone, the foster care system, orphanages, and his own childhood.

And then he looked back at Cas, and that's when Cas knew they made their decision. He saw it in Dean's eyes that they finally had their quiet agreement, but he still waited for Dean to say it.

"If we take her, she'll have a home. She will be safe with us, and she'll have a family." Dean finally said, and Cas nodded slowly.

"So we… we will be her parents." Cas stated.

Castiel faced Dean and saw how he didn't answer. Cas could see the way Dean's fears appeared of not being a good father. He saw his worries and understood them.

Cas didn't have any experience, but Dean did. He practically raised Sam when their father wasn't around. Cas has been an angel his whole life. Now he wasn't.

He had never in his wildest dreams dreamt about being a father with Dean by his side. He used to be a soldier for God, and the difference between now and those times was that now he felt alive. He was with the man he loved with a baby in his arms.

"Dean, how many times do I have to tell you this before you finally stop hating yourself and just believe me?" Cas asked as he stepped closer.

"You will make a great father; you deserve to be a parent." Cas finished and leaned closer to his face, with the baby still in his arms.

Dean looked unsure. He wasn't certain what Cas said was true, but the only way to find out what kind of father he'd make was to become one.

Dean decided to let himself hope for a better future and trust Castiel. He kept wondering how beautiful life would be for this little baby with them. He let himself believe Cas, just for a few moments, and he nodded.

Dean smiled at Cas, and Castiel saw that spark come back. After his childhood best friend's death, he found hope and a goal.

The sound of the baby cooing broke the silence as the both of them looked down at Cas' arms. Dean pulled his lips into a soft smile as he held eye contact with the girl.

"Do you want to hold her?" Cas suddenly asked, and Dean's mouth opened slightly. He nodded and reached for the baby. Cas gave the baby to Dean very carefully.

Cas couldn't stop smiling at the sight of Dean Winchester holding a baby. And he wasn't just holding a baby, he had his daughter in his arms.

The little girl giggled at Dean, and he touched her face. He ran his finger over her face. His fingertip met with her smooth pale skin for the first time, and he felt like his heart was going to explode.

Still, a distant feeling of guilt washed over him. His friend just died, and he was smiling already, he knew he shouldn't even grieve, but he just felt the way he did.

"I suggest we go outside." Cas said, and Dean nodded, still looking at the baby.

They walked outside of the warehouse, leaving the dead bodies of the woman, the man, and Elliott there. Dean said he would have a hunter friend of his clean up their mess because they had to arrange things with the baby first.

As they walked over to the car, Dean took a last look at Elliott's car and then turned away. He didn't look back.

Dean stepped to Cas, who couldn't take his eyes off Dean. He handed him the baby carefully, his fingers touching Cas's skin.

It was dark outside now; the spring air wasn't exactly warm, but Cas wasn't cold. He held the infant in his arms as he remembered she didn't have a name.

"She doesn't have a name. Should we name her?" Dean asked as he stroked the baby's face gently. Her blue eyes were so light, so blue. They reminded Dean of Castiel.

Cas nodded, and they stayed silent for a moment, both thinking what would be the most suitable name for her.

Dean didn't really have any ideas; he felt like the name was more important to Castiel. Although he wanted something beautiful and symbolic.

Castiel wanted something meaningful; he wanted something that had history but also sounded nice. He thought of girl names that would fit with the surname Winchester.

Cas thought of everything he had lost so far. But there were just so many things, too many. He had lost friends, allies, his sense of purpose, his reputation, and his wings. The thought hit him like a shot in the head, he had lost his wings. He had lost his grace.

"What about Grace Winchester?" Castiel asked, hoping Dean would like the name. The name Grace was so precious to him; he had lost his Grace, and this way he would get it back.

He knew he couldn't be an angel again, and he kind of got used to being human. However, the thought of naming the baby Grace made him feel some kind of joy he hadn't felt in a whiles. Some kind of happiness he only experienced when he was an angel.

Dean smiled at Cas and nodded proudly.

"Grace Winchester, our daughter." Dean said the name Grace Winchester sounded so perfect on his tongue. It sounded right.

"It's because of your wings, right? Because you've lost your grace." Dean asked, but he knew the answer already. Cas nodded, with a hint of sadness in his eyes. But the hope was bigger.

"We should go home." Dean suggested it, and Cas agreed with him.

They got in the car, Dean sitting in the driver's seat, while Cas was sitting in the passenger seat with Grace lying on his chest.

"We should stop by some store to buy a few things for Grace. "We don't have anything at all at home," Castiel suggested.

It felt weird using the name Grace, but it made him feel so happy and hopeful he couldn't shake off the feeling.

"Starting with an infant car seat." Dean said, and Cas chuckled at this. "Travelling with a baby in your arms is extremely dangerous, you know."

"You talk like a dad already." Cas said, and he softly smirked at Dean.

Dean pulled his lips into a firm smile, and the sudden feeling of being proud washed over him. He was ready for new beginnings.

With Grace lying close to his heart, sleeping, Castiel looked over to Dean. He sighed happily at the sight of the man he loved as Dean started the car.

Chapter Text

The sound of a baby crying woke Dean up. His eyes opened quickly, he reacted fast. He felt the mattress shift by his side as Castiel woke up too.

Dean put his hand on Cas' shoulder to tell him to sleep back. He didn't use word, this little touch was enough to tell him that. It was Dean's turn anyway; the last night Cas got up all 3 times to rock Grace or feed her, so Dean didn't mind at all.

As he sat up, he rubbed his eyes as exhaustion washed over him. He yawned and took a deep breath as he stood up.

Grace's crib was in their room, close to their bed. She didn't have a room yet, and Dean wanted to keep her close. Yet, he knew that even if she had her own room already, she'd stay with them anyway.

Grace was now five months old and had grown since they took her in April. It was a chilly September night, but it was cozy and warm in their room.

Dean stepped to the crib, and his hands reached out to grab the little girl. He lifted her and put her on his chest as he slowly started walking around the room with her.

After a few loud and long minutes, she eventually calmed down and stopped sobbing. Dean didn't put her back in her crib, though, not yet. He held her close to his heart and listened to her breathing.

"Shh, Gracie, your daddy's here." Dean whispered and rocked the baby slowly until he felt that she had fallen asleep.

She had grown so much in the last few months, Dean found it unbelievable. Her blue eyes and light brown hair were visible to Dean even in the dark.

He touched her cheek as Garce blinked; her eyes were so sleepy. Dean stared at her, and suddenly a heartwarming memory appeared in front of his eyes.

He let himself relive that memory; he had time. It was dark as he sat back on their bed with little Grace in his arms. He rocked her gently as he emerged in his dreamlike memory.

Castiel was holding 5-day-old Grace in his hands, while Dean's hands were full of baby stuff they had just bought. The baby carrier, the crib, and the two huge bags of things like pacifiers and some toys weighed on Dean's shoulder as he stepped into the bunker.

Dean immediately recognized Sam, who was sitting downstairs on a chair by the big table with a serious look on his face.

Castiel followed him with their child in his arms, and he closed the door behind himself. Dean saw as his brother stood up and walked to the end of the stairs.

Both Cas and Dean went down the stairs, and soon Dean found himself looking at Sam with a shy smile.

Dean saw as Sam's eyes widened when he saw Cas was holding Grace, and he looked at Dean for an explanation immediately.

In the car, earlier, Dean called Sam and asked him to go to the bunker really quickly, because they had to show him something. Sam wasn't hesitant, but Dean could clearly hear how annoyed he was.

Dean told him that they had to talk and that Elliott died on a hunt. So Sam was waiting for them at the bunker.

"Dean, what is this?" Sam asked, gesturing at the baby lying quietly in Cas' arms.

Dean shrugged and looked at Grace; he smiled and looked back at his brother. He felt happy that his whole family was there; this moment meant a lot to him.

"Meet Grace, your niece." Dean said proudly, and Cas stepped closer to Sam.

Sam stared down at her, and his mood shifted from confused and worried to cheery. He smiled at her with a big soft smile and took the information in.

Dean told everything to Sam, still standing on the same spot. Sam nodded, trying to understand it all. Dean knew that Sam wouldn't understand it at first, but he would get it later. And when Sam did get it, Dean saw it in his face as it changed.

"Do you want to hold Grace?" Cas asked, and both of the brothers turned to him.

"Uh, yes… yes." Sam answered at first hesitantly but then firmly. Dean smiled as Sam took little Grace in his huge arms.

He holds her like she is made of porcelain and could break at any minute. He put his palm under her head to hold it as he leaned closer and smiled at her. Her eyes sparkled too.

"Hey there, Grace, I'm your uncle Sammy." Sam introduced himself, and Dean smiled at the surprise of Sam calling himself Sammy. That was so cute, Dean thought.

Sam asked a couple of questions about their future and how they are going to deal with her, and they answered gently.

Then Cas took out a bottle and fed the newborn baby. Dean thought that Cas was such a natural parent. He had this feeling that he was born to do this and that he could easily raise a child alone toox however, Cas wouldn't agree with that.

Dean thought that Cas was taking care of the baby so easily and naturally because he used to be an angel. And an angel looked out for people and helped them, and even though Cas didn't have experience in raising children, he knew how deep down.

And Dean felt jealous of that ability of his. Dean didn't consider himself a natural parent, although he took care of his little brother when he was a boy. He had some experience, but he was terrified he would turn into the same man who had raised him. But Cas saw it differently, and Dean let himself believe him.

That memory was so heartwarming to Dean. His whole family was together; everyone he loved was there. Well, except for Elliott, but that was different.

Now, as he sat there on their bed with Cas sleeping quietly beside him, he felt a silent happiness wash over him. He was rocking Grace in his arms, and he watched her as she fell asleep.

When Dean saw her eyes close and her chest rise in a slower rhythm, he put her back in her crib and climbed back to bed.

He closed his tired eyes, and he fell asleep swiftly. That warm feeling in his chest because of the memory didn't leave him.

__________

The next morning Dean slept in, he didn't intend to, but nobody woke him up, and he was so exhausted from taking care of Grace.

He woke up and looked around, rubbing his eyes. The bed next to him was empty, and Grace wasn't sleeping in the crib either.

Dean sat up and ran his fingers through his hair, then stood up. He wasn't wearing a specific type of pajamas, he was only in his boxers, his chest and legs exposed.

He checked the time on his phone and saw it said 10.23. He walked out of the room and walked through the hallway towards the kitchen.

When he reached the kitchen, he pushed the door open and stepped in. He smiled at the sight that was waiting for him.

Cas was standing by the gas stove with a frying pan in his hand. Their child, Grace, was sitting on his waist, and Cas held her with one hand. With his other hand he was making pancakes for breakfast.

"Good morning, baby." Dean greeted him with his raspy low voice and stepped closer to them. Dean pressed a kiss on Cas' lips and then leaned closer to Grace.

"Good morning, Gracie, to you too." Dean said and reached for her to take her off of Cas' hips. He was already dealing with a lot, and Dean wanted to hold his baby anyways. He slowly took her in his hands, and Grace smiled at him. He smiled back and pressed some kisses on her face. Her cheek, her nose, her forehead, and her light brown hair as well.

"I'm making pancakes, I hope you're hungry." Cas stated, and Dean nodded while sitting down on a chair with Grace in his arms.

Dean took the baby to his chest and made her burp. Then he patted her back and held her for a little more.

"I was thinking maybe we should start cleaning out Gracie's new room today. I mean, she'll stay in our room anyways for some time, but it takes a long time to paint and decorate and accommodate the room. " Dean suggested, and Cas put a not-so-perfect pancake on his plate.

"Yeah, that sounds good, actually." Cas said, and Dean took a bite from his breakfast. Then Cas Grace got off of Dean's chest.

Dean watched as Cas put her in her reclined infant seat; she was still too young to sit in a high chair. Then Cas took the chair next to Dean by the table and placed his breakfast in front of himself too.

"You know, I thought you wouldn't want to go through Elliott's stuff, but I'm glad you're okay with it." Cas said as they ate their pancakes.

Elliott's old room, where he stayed for a short time, would now be Grace's room. At first Dean didn't really like the idea, but that room was their best option. It had big windows and its own bathroom, so it would be perfect for a girl.

"Yeah, well, not exactly the perfect way to spend the day, but she needs a room, and I'll make her one." Dean answered, and Cas smiled at him. Dean felt so lucky to be able to look at that smile; he felt like he had been waiting to spend this kind of morning with him for an eternity.

__________

Dean stepped in the room where Elliott stayed and closed it behind himself. Nobody has really entered the room ever since Elliott died, and it even smelled like him there.

The bed wasn't made, and some clothes were thrown around in there. It was a mess; Elliott's things were left on the desk and on his bed. Some drawers were pulled out, and Dean saw his things in there too.

Dean was standing in the entrance alone. Cas was putting Grace to sleep in their room, in her crib, so he wasn't there. It was around one hour after noon, so it was time for her to take a nap.

As he stood there, memories flooded him. His best friend was dead, and he barely had any time to grieve. Taking care of Grace distracted him and brought him happiness, but when she wasn't there he felt sad. When he was alone, he let himself be sad.

He felt guilty for being sad, though, and he knew Cas knew that too. But he couldn't help it. He hated Elliott for trying to murder Cas, but he hated himself more for not hating him enough to not care.

He took a deep breath and walked over to his desk. He put the big box on the floor and started putting Elliott's things in there. He grabbed his clothes and put them there along with his fake IDs and notebooks.

Each object brought back a memory he had forgotten, and he decided to remember those instead of bad ones. Although he didn't forget the bad ones, he just emphasized the better ones.

As he pulled a drawer out, he saw a book there full of added papers. He grabbed the book; he wanted to put it in the box, which was already almost full, but the book accidentally slipped from his hands. All the papers from the book fell on the floor, and Dean sighed.

He kneeled down on the floor and then sat down. He started gathering the papers together when suddenly a word on a random paper caught his attention.

'Dean'

He grabbed the paper immediately, and his eyes widened when he realized that it really did say Dean on the paper.

He then started reading the paper, which was more like a letter. He sat there on the floor in his childhood best friend's room as he continued to read Elliott's letter.

"Dear Dean,

It has been two weeks since your father took you away from this place. I know that you didn't have a choice and that you wanted to protect your little brother, but I'm still mad at you for leaving. You left, and now I'm alone. I don't have any friends, and my nightmares got even worse. I miss you so much, Dean. I wish you were here, and we would still be best buddies. Please come back to me.

Elliott.
1995. April 16"

Dean sat there in silence and in complete shock. His mouth was dry, his lips parted. He wasn't disturbed, just shocked. He didn't expect to find a letter from 1995, around the time he left, and that left him stunned.

Then he remembered how Elliott once said that he tried writing letters to Dean, but he didn't know his address, and Dean said that he didn't have an address at that time.

Dean felt his heartbeats quicken as he saw another letter with his name on the floor. He swiftly picked it up and started reading with hungry eyes.

"Dear Dean,

I'm no longer in Sonny's home. I've decided to live the life of a hunter, and I swear to God I am going to kill as many supernatural monsters as I can; they deserve it. Also, I'm not angry at you anymore, and you don't have to be sorry for leaving. You did the right thing for your family, and I've realized I would've done the same thing if it was for my sister, Sheila. I still miss you, though, and I wish you were here.

Elliott.
1997. January 2"

After reading the letter, Dean found another one and another one. He could hardly believe his eyes when he kept reading and reading.

In most letters Elliott wrote to him about how lonely he was and how much he had missed him, and Dean felt some kind of guilt in his chest, knowing for him leaving wasn't that hard. It wasn't easy, but he moved on.

Hours had passed, and Dean was still sitting on the floor, reading. Some letters made him cry a few tears, and some made him laugh. Some letters told Dean about his short-term girlfriends and hunter friends, but they were mostly sad.

The letters weren't only from when they were younger. By time, Elliott wrote fewer letters, but he never stopped.

"Dear Dean,

I'm sick. I just found out a few days ago, and I have no one to talk to. The feeling that nobody would cry for me when I'm gone for good makes me feel more alone. I have cancer, and they can't do anything. There's no chance to save me, so I choose to die naturally. Without medicines. I feel terrible.

Elliott.
2012. October 12."

Dean's eyes widened in disbelief. That was almost a year ago. Elliott was sick!? And Dean didn't know?! Why didn't he tell him? And then it hit him, the realization. Elliott seemed so tired all the time and on the pills. So Dean was right; he wasn't taking sleeping pills, he was on medication. Oh God!

His death just hurt Dean a little more now that he knew Elliott was sick. But it also gave him a kind of peace because now he knew that he was going to die anyway, and now at least he died doing something he loved, hunting.

Dean's jaw slightly dropped when he saw that the most recent and last letter from his friend was only from 5 months ago. Exactly two weeks before he died.

Dean took the letter in his hand and started reading, his green eyes focusing on the painful words that were written on the paper by hand. Elliott's handwriting was messy, it was almost hard to read.

"Dear Dean,

I haven't written to you in a long time because I thought I wouldn't have to ever again. I was wrong. We met again, and I was so happy; I felt joy I haven't felt ever since you left. But now I had to leave. I did something terrible, a huge mistake. I tried murdering your beloved angel, Castiel, and I hate myself for it. I am so sorry, I apologize, knowing it won't ever be enough, and that's okay. I made myself your enemy by trying to be your best friend.

I know there are no excuses, I lost my mind, thinking Castiel made you weak, when in reality he made you stronger than I could ever be. You're still in the hospital right now, and I came back to the bunker with this last letter. I hope you find this. My illness… I don't have much time, and because of that, this is my last letter to you, my dear friend.

I'm forever grateful for your friendship.

Elliott.
2013. March 20"

Elliott's last letter. Dean felt empty, he was hungry for more. He wrote it in March, and they found Grace in April. Dean was confused and shocked.

Then he stared down at the letter, nothing else mattered. No words came out of his mouth, and no tears were shed from his eyes.

He turned his head and looked for more letters, but when there wasn't anything he hadn't read so far, a single tear fell from his face, and he felt like he was trapped. Trapped in an emotion that he couldn't figure out what it was.

When he looked up, he saw that outside the sun was already halfway set, the golden rays of sunshine illuminated the room. The room that was once Elliott's but will belong to Grace.

The mess was still big, Dean didn't really do anything with that. He just sat on the floor for hours, reading all the unsent letters without even looking up.

He just now realized that Cas didn't even check on him, not even once. It surprised him how big a space Cas left him, so he wiped his tears away and decided to see what he was up to.
Dean stood up and walked out of the room; the hallway was shining in gold as he walked towards their bedroom. His steps were slow and tired of all the crying.

He reached their bedroom, which used to be only Dean's but now was theirs. He pressed down the handle and pushed the door open.

Cas was sitting on their bed, a baby blanket was laid down. Grace, their little baby, was lying on the blanket, and Cas played with her while the TV was on in the background.

"Hey." Dean said, and Cas looked up. His blue eyes met with Dean's, and Dean knew he immediately recognized that something was wrong. Cas' smile faded, and he frowned.

"What's wrong?" Cas asked honestly, and Dean walked closer and sat down on their bed.

Dean leaned closer to Grace and pressed a kiss on her forehead.

"Hey, Gracie, look who's here to play with you." Dean said in a quiet voice, that typical voice people use to speak to babies.

"I found some letters from Elliott. They were for me, unsent. " Dean said with sadness in his voice as he looked at Cas.

Cas sighed and leaned closer to Dean. He gave him a tender kiss on his lips and pulled him closer. Cas held Dean in his embrace, close to his heart.

"He was sick, Cas. I didn't know. Dean said, and his voice was shaking. Dean felt Cas put his hand on his head, and he felt the way Cas ran his fingers through his hair, slowly stroking it. Dean sighed, but he didn't cry.

"He would've died anyway, Dean." Cas said, trying to comfort Dean. Dean stayed in his arms and kept staring at Grace, who was moving all the time.

"I love you." Dean said that was what it was. Love. Dean loved Cas in every possible way there is. He loved everything about him. He loved his eyes, his hair, his nose, and his skin. He adored his personality, how honest and modest he was. How he was just learning how to be a human, how he said his name, and the things he said. He loved him.

"I love you too." Castiel replied and hugged him more tightly. Cas pressed a big kiss on Dean's head, on his hair.

They watched their beautiful daughter smile and giggle with a huge smile on their faces. It was perfect. The room, the couple, the baby. Dean loved it, every single bit of it. He felt this unconditional love towards Cas and Grace, towards his family.

Chapter Text

A few months later

Dean heard a loud knock on the front door, and he stood up to open it. He rushed up the stairs with little Grace in his arms and opened the door.

Sam was standing there, towering over him with two huge bags in his hands. His hair was shiny, and he was wearing a striped T-shirt with jeans.

"Hey, Dean." Sam greeted his brother as he stepped in. Dean took a step back, then closed the door behind Sam.

Sam walked down the stairs, and Dean followed him. He had a white cloth on his shoulder, for Grace. Sam dropped the two heavy bags from his hands and bent down to pull something out.

Dean didn't see what he had in his hands, because Sam hid his big hand behind himself. Castiel entered the room, and both of the brothers turned to face him.

"Hi Sam. Thanks for coming again. Today we'll definitely finish the room. I'm sure." Cas said.

"I'm happy to be here, really. Big momentx this little girl right here will have her very own room by the end of this day. Sam leaned closer to the baby, and he glanced up at her parents.

"What are you hiding in there, Uncle Sammy?" Dean said jokingly as he raised an eyebrow.

Sam smiled, and he pulled out a plushie from behind his back. It was a stuffed moose.

Dean laughed out loud, and Cas smiled with teeth as well. Sam gave the little moose to Grace, who was still in Dean's hands. She grabbed the animal with her little fingers as she smiled.

Dean smiled too at the sight of his daughter holding her plushie. He held her up and turned her around so Grace faced Dean. Then Dean leaned closer and pressed a kiss on her cheek.

"You like your moose, huh, Gracie?" Dean asked, smiling, and Grace laughed a bit when Dean pulled her closer to press another kiss on her forehead. And then another one on her cheeks again and one again on her hair. He gave her so many warm kisses it would be hard to count them.

The whole moment felt wholesome to the family, especially to Dean. He loved every aspect of having his own family. He adored being a dad, he loved Grace freely.

"Let's get to work! There are only a few things left to do. It'll be quick." Cas suggested, and the three of them walked towards Grace's room.

They had been working on the room for 4 weeks now. Sam came over most of the time to help; he had mostly finished working on his own home too, so now he had more free time. And he was more experienced than Dean or Cas, so he helped a lot.

They reached the room, and Cas opened the door and stepped in. Sam followed them, and then lastly Dean stepped in too.

The room was beautiful. Perfect for a little girl. The walls were painted light purple, and on the right there was her crib. The crib was decorated with pink bows, and there was a hanging mobile above her with colorful figures hanging from it.

On the other side of the room there was the changing table, and its drawers were filled with diapers and other baby essentials.

Under the big window, which had purple curtains with little flowers on it, there was a nightstand that contained Grace's clothes, toys, and baby books. She had so many beautiful clothes, onesies, socks, sleepers, and even some hats.

The corner of the room was empty, it was left empty for a glider, a comfortable chair where they could rock the baby easily. And Sam was here to put it together with Dean and Cas. It was the final step to make Grace's room finished and perfect, and even though Dean could handle putting the chair together, he invited Sam. Just to spend some time together.

Dean placed Grace in her crib gently and turned back to Sam and Cas. They were already sitting on the floor, trying to understand how to put the chair together. Dean smirked as he sat down.

__________

Around an hour later, Dean stood up, sweat dripping from his forehead, and put his hands on his hips. He stared down proudly at the finished chair as Sam stood up as well.

Dean looked over to Cas, who was now holding Grace in his hands. Dean smiled at him as Cas stepped closer. He stared into his blue eyes, and there was nearly no feeling that could top that moment.

Cas leaned in and pressed a tender kiss on his love's lips. Dean kissed back, feeling Cas' tongue on his teeth. His lips were so pink and full, he tasted like sunset on the beach.

Their lips parted, and as Dean looked back at the chair, still with a smile on his lips, he got a disgusted look from his brother.

"Oh, get over it already." Dean said, and his brother laughed. Dean laughed briefly too, and an idea popped in his mind.

"Hey, let's take a picture. Grace's room is finally ready, let's make it memorable. " Dean suggested it, and he saw how Cas' face lit up. Sam nodded too as he grabbed his phone and opened the camera on it.

Dean took Grace from Cas' hands and held her so she would face the camera. He ran his fingers through her short hair as he stepped closer to Cas.

Castiel wrapped a hand around Dean, and Sam took the first photo of the three of them: Dean, Cas, and Grace. The picture turned out really nice a wholesome moment was captured.

The second picture was a selfie taken by Sam; Dean stood between his brother and his boyfriend, holding his daughter.

When the two pictures were taken, Sam turned to Dean and asked him to let him hold his niece. Dean handed her Grace happily.

Grace Winchester smiled and giggled when her uncle took her in his hands. Dean could see how much Sam enjoyed their interaction as he joked.

"You're her favorite uncle already."

Sam laughed as he pressed a gentle kiss on her niece's forehead.

"We're official, by the way. Iris and I." Sam said as he looked up at Dean. Iris was the girl Sam dated a few times, and he sometimes talked about her to Dean. Dean never met her though, not yet.

"That's awesome, man. I'm happy for you,you really like her, huh? " Dean said jokingly as he took a glance at Cas beside him.

"Yeah, she's... perfect." Sam answered, his puppy eyes reflected his love towards the girl they were talking about.

"Congratulations, Sam! "Having a normal girlfriend must be an awesome experience, but I honestly have no idea," Cas said too, smiling.

Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes at the awkward statement and replied, "Yeah, well, thanks, Cas."

Dean smirked as he turned around to admire the finished room. It looked just like he imagined. He felt hopeful and happy that he even got to experience this aspect of life, because he never thought he would. And now he was a dad. He had a daughter, and he felt like the void he had always felt was filled.

He couldn't stop smiling as he turned back to Grace and Cas, feeling like after all those years, after all those moments of pain and agony, everything felt right.

But deep in his soul, he felt like, just like all those other times, God would let him down. Because every good experience he ever had ended with something devastating. And this was the best time of his life so far.

Chapter Text

Dean knocked on the door, waiting quietly for his brother to open it. He was wearing a grey shirt with jeans and his leather jacket. Under his tired eyes there were dark circles. His hair was messy, he didn't have time to comb it.

When Sam opened the door, he invited Dean in, and he stepped inside. His house now looked finished, books filled up the shelves that were once empty.

Dean looked around, taking the view in. The rooms looked nice, nicer than he imagined.

They greeted each other, and Sam asked Dean if he wanted to get a beer. Dean came over to Sam to spend some quality time with his brother.

Being a father, Dean barely had free time, time to hang out simply with his little brother. He kept complaining about it to Cas, who suggested he take a day off and spend it with Sam. Dean argued that you can't just take off a day from being a dad, but he still agreed.

So he was there, standing in Sam's living room, trying to fight the urge to accept the beer. He must admit that just because he was sober didn't mean he didn't miss alcohol. His lust for beer or whisky was strong, but he shook his head.

"No, thanks. Uh, I actually don't really drink anymore." Dean gently declined his brother's offer.

Sam raised an eyebrow in surprise and nodded without saying anything. Dean didn't know whether Sam knew anything about his drinking problem or if he ever noticed it, but he was glad Sam didn't make a big deal about it.

Outside, the sun had already started to set, and it painted the sky in an orange color. Inside, Sam turned on some of the lights but not the main one. It created a comfortable warm feeling in the room as Dean sat down on his couch.

"How's Gracie?" Sam asked, sitting down in the brown armchair.

"She's great, she's fussing a lot, though. We don't really know why; maybe she's teething." Dean answered honestly, and Sam nodded.

"I'm just so tired, to be honest. But, I feel like everything's falling into place." Dean said, and Sam took a sip from his cucumber water.

"Don't jinx it." Sam said playfully, but the comment was enough to make Dean's smile slowly fade away.

His mood shifted from peaceful and smiley to serious and worried, the few wrinkles around his eyes appearing as he frowned. He ran one hand through his hair as he looked back at Sam.

Sam clearly noticed the change in Dean's mood, and the playful grin disappeared from his look.

"No, Dean. I was just kidding. Sam said to make his brother feel better, guilt washed over him. He didn't intend to worry Dean; he was just joking. Clearly a stupid joke, but he didn't mean it.

Dean sighed and started, "No, because actually I feel exactly like this. Like my happiness is temporary and things will change. I mean, nothing ever worked out for me. Ever."

Sam felt sorry for Dean. He didn't want him to feel this way.

"I was just joking, Dean. Nothing bad will happen, okay? " Sam said, comforting his brother.

"You don't know that." Sam opened his mouth to reply to that, but a clicking sound from the oven interrupted their moment. The dinner was ready.

Sam just stared at Dean, examining his facial expressions. Dean sighed, in his head, the conversation had already ended.

"Go, get it." Dean said, allowing Sam to take the food out of the oven. Sam didn't want to go but he did anyway, leaving Dean in the living room alone.

He sat there tired and lonely and stuck with that bad feeling in his gut. He waited for the call of Sam, and when he heard the familiar voice shout his name, he left the room and that feeling in the room as he went to look for his Sammy.

__________

"This is damn delicious, man." Dean said, his mouth full of food, chewing on the so-called delicious food his brother made.

Sam smiled proudly. "Thanks. I got this book from this girl as a gift, and I used it. This is the first time I've tried cooking this."

Dean smirked, and a playful grin unfolded on his lips. He swallowed and lifted his fork to put another piece of the meat in his mouth.

"So this girl. It's getting serious, huh?

Sam nodded shyly and said, "Yeah, kind of. I like her a lot. "

The thought made Dean smile; it made him happy that his brother was finally getting what he deserved. He found a girl, and even though Dean didn't know her personally, she sounded like someone nice.

They ate in silence, and the plates started to empty, the food started to cool down. The room felt warm, the situation felt comfortable.

Dean, lost in his thoughts, finished his meal, still chewing on the last piece. Sam stared at him; he saw something was bothering him. He didn't know if it was still because of that comment he made earlier about his future. But he had a feeling it wasn't the reason. That look on his face—Sam knew it all too well.

Sam glanced at Dean, hesitating before he asked, "What's wrong? What's bothering you?"

Dean sighed, exhaling and releasing all the things worrying him, and said the one thing that bothered him the most at that moment.

"I'm afraid I'll be like our father. I... I don't want Grace to experience that."

Sam sighed too; he knew this was coming, and he was ready to comfort him. All the times Dean took care of him and helped him, Sam was finally able to give it back to him, to help him.

"You won't end up like Dad, don't worry, Dean." Sam said after Dean confessed he feared he would go down the same path his father did.

"Yeah, well, I'll never make her call me sir. She'll never become a hunter, I won't let that happen. " Dean chuckled, and Sam nodded.

"Sometimes I miss him, though. Dad. " Sam said nervously, hoping Dean would agree.

"I hate it, but rarely I do too. Not the times he hit me, but when I was little and he loved me." Dean confessed.

Sam pulled his eyebrows together, smiling sadly. "You never talk about those times, you know, before… mom died."

Dean sighed and agreed silently. "He was different. He used to tuck me in and check for the monsters under my bed. He read me stories and played with me. And then... he didn't. "

Sam didn't say anything, he just stared at his brother, silently observing. He felt sorry for him, he grieved the childhood his brother didn't have.

"You became a father so quickly."

"I didn't."

The brothers sat in silence. Sam wanted to ask what he meant and wanted to pressure him to answer, but something in Dean's face told him not to. So he let the silence settle between them as he wondered.

Sam didn't know what his brother meant by that statement, and it took him a long time to figure it out, but when he did, it didn't really matter anymore; it was too late.

Chapter Text

It was a beautiful morning when Dean woke up feeling Cas' fingers stroking his hair. He opened his eyes, and a soft smile appeared on his lips. He turned his head a bit to see Castiel lying next to him.

His dark hair was messy, and his eyes were bluer than the darkest depths of the ocean. His skin was so smooth, like he was an angel; to Dean, he was. Dean was mesmerized, truly enchanted.

But apart from his looks, what really pulled him in was that genuine look on his face. His eyes became the mirror of his soul, reflecting on every kind act he ever performed and every sin he ever committed. And it was pure, genuine, and honest.

His soul was like looking in the sun, it blinded you because it was so bright. But it illuminated the ocean and the mountains and made all those places shine in gold, making those places truly outstanding.

And Dean felt like he was a blind man; just by looking at him, hearing his voice, and feeling his skin in his own felt like a gift. And he couldn't help but wonder whether he even deserved it.

It all felt unreal, like he wasn't supposed to be this happy. His past still haunted him every day. His parents, his friends, and Elliott. But the guilt and grief weren't as big as the joy he felt. But still, that feeling lingered there. This was all too good. Too good to be true.

"Good morning." Dean said, still smiling, his voice raspy and low. Cas pulled Dean closer by his hair and pressed a passionate kiss on his pink lips.

Again, Dean felt like this can't be real. It's like he was itching from under his skin, but he didn't know why. He felt like all this was going to end; he just didn't know why he had this awful and terrifying feeling. However, Dean shook off the feeling as the unreal reality pulled him back.

Dean smirked in the kiss and kissed back immediately.

Then their moment was interrupted by crying. Grace woke up, and she made sure her parents would notice.

The crying didn't bother Dean, he liked that there was crying. He loved that a baby, his girl, was in his life now, so every time she made a noise, Dean was just happy to experience it.

Dean sat up, but Cas put his hand on Dean's bare back, quietly asking him to stay. Dean looked at him, and with a soft smile, he nodded.

Cas got up and stepped to the crib next to their bed. He reached for his baby and lifted her in his arms. Cas wasn't wearing a shirt, and Grace was lying in his arms.

A warm feeling washed over Dean as he noticed that Grace stopped crying, listening to her dad's heartbeats. Grace looked so peaceful in Cas' arms, he wished he could remember this moment forever.

Cas then sat down on their bed with their daughter in his arms, close to Dean.

Dean looked at Grace in Cas' arms and saw that she was fussing again. Dean frowned, and a serious expression appeared on his face.

Her tiny fists rubbing at her mouth, Dean saw Cas' mood shift too. His smile slowly faded, and a worried look replaced it.

"Teething again?" Dean asked as he watched how Grace's fingers were still in her mouth.

"I believe so." Cas replied, and he looked over to Dean. Dean raised an eyebrow and sighed. "She's uncomfortable."

Dean felt awful because his daughter felt awful. Dean saw himself in her; he saw the way he used to suffer and how his dad would just ignore it. And he couldn't bear the thought of ignoring her pain, even if it was just small pain.

"I'll go out to get her some medicine. It shouldn't take long." Dean said as he touched Grace's face. Her skin was flawless; she was flawless.

"Hey, Gracie, Daddy will run out to get some medicine for you. You'll feel better with it, I swear. " Dean said as he stood up.

Dean leaned closer to his daughter, to his Gracie, and pressed a long kiss on her forehead. Dean's favorite place to kiss on Grace was her forehead. His lips touched her soft skin, and she laughed softly.

Dean smiled at her softly too, and he memorized her face. He knew he'd never forget her face, how her nose scrunched as she laughed and giggled. He didn't even need pictures, his mind was the best camera.

Dean stood up and got dressed while Cas watched him. They shared some playful glances as Cas rocked Grace in his arms.

"You don't have to go out today; she'll be fine till tomorrow too. You should rest." Cas suggested it, but Dean insisted on going. He just didn't want to see Grace in pain.

"Nah, I'll be quick, she needs it now." Dean replied with a soft grin on his face.

And then he was gone.

_________

The weather was warm, and Dean enjoyed it. He always had loved driving while the sun was shining. He loved the soft rays of sunshine caressing his skin, and the warm breeze hit his face and blew his hair.

He gripped the wheel as he drove, his feet on the accelerator. He took a look in the rearview mirror, and then he focused on the road again.

It was very early in the morning, so the streets weren't so crowded, with only a few cars passing by. As he kept driving, he decided to turn the radio on, so he did.

When he heard what song was playing, he chuckled to himself. The song was halfway through, and even though Dean knew the lyrics, he didn't sing.

The song was called "Lover, You Should've Come Over" by Jeff Buckley. Dean showed this song to Castiel long before they admitted their feelings for each other. He didn't hear this song often, but whenever he did, he remembered Castiel. It filled him with happiness.

The song had a slower rhythm, and Dean considered it a hidden gem. As he drove, he recalled so many memories with his lover, Castiel. The song just brought up a thousand moments he shared with the man he loved.

Dean gave himself a moment to think. He was honestly happy after a long time. He suffered so much; he was living in agony ever since he was a child, and now his life felt like a dream come true.

He enjoyed being a father and being in love. He finally let himself enjoy the happiness and the unconditional love. He missed his brother, though.

Sam was still living close, but he wasn't close enough. Now that Grace was there, Sam came more often; he really enjoyed visiting her and playing with his little niece.

Dean thought about Grace's little moose plushie and how much she adored it. She slept with it all the time, and whenever Sam came over, he played with it for her, and she laughed.

Dean frowned and sighed, his life was so different now. He had gone through so much, and now it was good. Too good. Not that he complained about it being better than ever; it just felt unfamiliar. It all felt like a dream, like this wasn't how it was supposed to be.

Dean saw the shop where he was originally headed to, it wasn't far away at all. Only a few hundred meters separated him from his destination.

Dean took a peek in the rearview mirror, and as his eyes found the road again, he suddenly heard the loud noise of a horn.

It all happened so quickly, he didn't see any of it coming. He couldn't possibly have, none of it was his fault.

Dean heard the screeching tires as he quickly stepped on the brake pedal. The look on his face froze; he was terrified. He heard honking horns and a loud shout that was more like a scream, and then he realized it was him screaming.

Dean heard the engine revving as he tried to turn the car, but it was too late. He heard the song quietly playing in the background, but he couldn't pay attention to that. Then suddenly, the Impala collided with another car, and Dean heard the crashing metal along with the bending doors.

He saw flashing lights and the glass shattering. He felt the glass cut into his skin, and he suddenly felt that pain again. He felt the wound on his back open as a hundred new ones appeared on his body.

He screamed out of the unbearable pain, and the last thing he thought about was Castiel and their little daughter, Grace. He just silently hoped Cas would be okay and Grace wouldn't be in pain.

Then, the pain faded as Dean lost consciousness. He still felt the smell of smoke and the taste of blood on his lips, but he just couldn't open his eyes.

He was scared, terrified. It all happened so fast, faster than he could even process it.

And when everything seemed like it would get better, it got worse.

And then he was gone.

_________

When Cas heard the phone ring, he put Grace in her crib before standing up to answer it. His finger clicked on the phone to pick it up as he lifted his hand to his ear.

"Castiel Novak?" A man asked, and Cas frowned, it felt like something was off.

"I am. Who am I talking to?" Cas asked as he glanced over at Grace to make sure she was okay.

"I'm calling because of... uh… Dean Winchester. He listed you as his emergency contact. " The man said, and Castiel's mood shifted.

He pulled himself out, he was immediately listening to every word the man said. He was scared to ask the next question; he was even more terrified to hear the answer.

"Emergency?" Cas asked, his voice shaking and weak, he sounded so unsure and vulnerable.

Castiel heard the man sigh, and his heartbeats quickened, he felt like he couldn't breathe. His hands were shaking, but he tried to stay steady to hear what that man had to say.

"I'm so sorry to inform you, but there has been an accident." Castiel felt like he was going to faint, like he was going to die. "He... didn't make it."

Castiel's world was shattered in milliseconds; everything he believed in, everything he loved, became one with the ground. He didn't move. He didn't breathe.

"What? " His voice was shaking, weak.

"Dean Winchester died. " The man sighed on the end of thw line sadly.

He closed his eyes and pursed his lips together. He shook his head, feeling the tears already burning his eyes. He opened his eyes and stared at the wall in disbelief.

His heart broke into a thousand pieces, and Cas knew he would never forget this moment. He knew these words would haunt him for the rest of his life.

And then before the sadness, guilt washed over him. He closed his eyes, and he felt like it was all his fault. He just couldn't believe that a day that started so perfectly ended up being the worst day of his life. The worst day of his life.

"Are you still here?" The man asked, and Castiel felt the tears running down his face as his hands wouldn't stop trembling.

"Y… Yes." He said, but his voice cracked again. Reality punched him right in his gut as he realized that Dean died.

The words sounded so weird, he couldn't believe it. Dean died. He didn't want to believe it.

"I'm sorry, you can—" The man started, but Cas dropped the phone. It fell on the ground, and Ca collapsed too.

His knees collided with the cold floor, and he lifted his hands and put them to his face.

His blue eyes, the ones Dean adored so much, were now filled with salty tears. He cried and sobbed. He didn't keep it in, he didn't have a reason to, and he couldn't.

Then he heard the crying of another person too. He looked up, tears blurring his vision, and he remembered Grace was still lying in her crib. He had forgotten about her, his own pain erasing everything else but the memory of Dean.

Castiel, with tears in his eyes, stood up and reached for Grace. He lifted her and held her in his shaking arms, close to his fast-beating heart.

The baby didn't stop crying like she always did when Castiel held her. It was different now; she sobbed because Cas sobbed too. Because Castiel just lost the love of his life, while Gracie lost her daddy.

Cas knew she somehow knew too. Grace didn't stop crying that night until she fell asleep. Castiel figured she felt the pain too, and it wasn't because of the teething. She felt pain because she just lost someone who took care of her.

Cas thought maybe she knew that her daddy would never hold her again, he would never play with her. Her daddy would never make her laugh ever again, he would never rock her until she falls asleep. Grace knew her daddy would never call her Gracie again, and he would never press any kisses on her forehead.

And Castiel felt that exact pain too, if not worse. He still couldn't believe it, and he held onto Grace tightly, not letting go of her, hoping she would bring him peace.

And by just losing Dean, Castiel realized losing his wings was nothing compared to this pain. Because even being a human, Dean made him fly, he became his wings after he lost his real ones. And now Castiel lost Dean too, he lost his human wings too.

Chapter Text

The sun wasn't shining, clouds covered the sky as Castiel opened the door of the car and got out.

Life is like the sky, he thought. Sometimes clouds cover the sun and then disappear. But when the sun vanishes, it's just dark.

He stepped closer to the other door and opened it. In the car, Grace was lying in her baby seat, her eyes scanning her father's face.

Castiel reached for her and unbuckled her seatbelt and then lifted her. He let out a loud sigh as he held his daughter in his arms.

A few days ago Castiel went to the store to buy black clothes for Grace. She didn't have any black garments; she never needed them before. He picked out a tiny black dress with a bow on it and some dark stockings. He found a cute dark hairband as well, so he decided to purchase it too.

Now, Grace was wearing the dress with the little hairband in her short light brown hair. Her blue eyes shined at Castiel as he held her.

Castiel thought she was beautiful; she reminded him of Dean, and it hurt, but somehow it felt good too.

It was more painful than anything to see Grace attend her father's funeral. The fact that Grace won't even remember Dean broke Cas' heart each time he remembered it. She was just a little baby, wanting to be loved. And she is, but now only one parent can show that love really.

Castiel looked around, his eyes exhausted from all the crying, with dark circles under them. His hair was messy, even though he brushed his hair before leaving.

He was wearing a black suit with a black tie. His hands were still shaking as he stared at the church in front of him.

The Impala was parked right in front of the church, and as he looked around, he saw the empty streets. It looked like it could start raining at any second, but he couldn't move.

The small white church in front of him looked nice, but he didn't want to enter it. He didn't want to go in, because he knew that this church would be the last place where he could see Dean. It would be the last place where Grace could see her father.

Grace, in Cas' hands, was calm, but Castiel felt like she knew something was missing. Someone was missing.

Dean felt his heartbeats quicken as he sighed and pursed his lips together. He then took the first step. He slowly walked towards the building, and when he reached the door, he pushed it open with one hand.

He didn't go in, though. He stopped by the door, just staring at the inside of the church. On the two sides, there were a bunch of pews, with a few people sitting on them, quietly talking with each other.

When they heard the door open, they all turned their heads towards Castiel. They just stared at him as he stood there, frozen.

Castiel couldn't move, he felt tears burning his eyes as he kept standing there. He felt the eyes watching him on his skin, and he just wanted to disappear.

In the center of the church, there he was. Dean was lying lifelessly in the casket. Cas couldn't see his body from the door, but he knew he was there.

It still felt unreal to him, he just couldn't understand how this happened. His world was completely shattered.

Cas felt pressure in his heart and stomach as he finally took a step. Suddenly a painful thought hit him.

Cas always thought secretly that if he and Dean would ever go to a church, it would be for completely different reasons. He would've walked down the aisle wearing a nice suit. And Dean would be waiting for him by the altar. They would say how much they loved each other, and then they would kiss.

Now, Castiel walked down the aisle alone wearing a nice but black suit. Dean was waiting for him by the altar, but in a casket, dead. Only Castiel will say that he loves him, and only he will kiss Dean. Dean won't kiss back, and he won't say "I love you" back.

Cas' heart ached, and he felt a tear shed from his eyes.

He looked around and saw that Sam was sitting in the first row next to other people. There weren't too many people in the room; most people who loved Dean were dead long before Dean died. Some hunters and friends attended, but Cas didn't know most of them.

Sam looked back at Castiel, and Cas walked to him. He didn't look at the casket; he didn't want to see him yet. He sat down next to Sam, but he didn't say anything. He held Gracie tightly; he made sure she could feel his heart beating.

Next to Sam, a woman sat, Sam's girlfriend, Iris. Cas met her once, when he went over to tell Sam about the accident. As Castiel sat there, he remembered that awful day when he told Sam about Dean.

That day, after Cas stopped all the crying, it was in the middle of the night already. Cas was tired, but he just remembered how he didn't even tell Sam about Dean's death and how he probably had no idea of what happened.

He decided to tell him in person. Not only because he deserved more than a phone call but also because Cas needed company. He spent the last few hours crying and sobbing on the floor, with Grace in his hands, and he knew it was only the start.

He rushed to the car with Grace in his arms. He put her in her baby seat, and he got in the car and started driving.

The drive was silent and lonely. He sometimes looked over to the passenger seat, only to realize it was empty. Cas never really drove the Impala before; Dean never let him, but now he wasn't there to tell him no.

When he arrived, he hurried to the door and started knocking as loudly as he could. Cas could feel how tired his eyes looked, and he knew they must have been a little puffy from the tears.

When Sam opened the door, he immediately knew something was wrong. Cas could feel the panic creep up on Sam's skin as he invited him in.

As Cas stepped in, at the top of the stairs a woman appeared. She was wearing white pajamas. Her brow hair was messy, and her brown eyes were sleepy.

Cas was surprised by her presence, and honestly he wanted to get Sam alone, but since that wasn't possible, he looked at the girl and introduced himself.

"Hey, I'm Castiel… and, uh, this is my daughter, Grace." He said, his voice was shaking, and it even cracked by the end of the sentence.

"I'm Iris, nice to meet you." She said kindly, but Ca heardin her voice that she was confused too.

Sam grabbed his shoulders and looked at Cas with a serious and worried expression on his face.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked as he peeked down at Grace too. "Where's Dean?"

Cas didn't answer. He couldn't say it. He just looked at Sam in the eyes, hoping maybe he would understand. Maybe he did; he just didn't want to. Castiel opened his mouth to say it, his lips shaking.

"He died." Cas said, his voice low and sad. He sounded like a man who just lost the love of his life, probably because he was that man.

Cas knew he would never forget as the confusion on Sam's face disappeared and turned into shock, then sadness.

Castiel couldn't really remember much from that day, the tears blurred the memory. He recalled grief, the feeling of losing someone so important.

Now, as he sat on the cold pew, he remembered all the times he slept on pews like this. When he was homeless, these kinds of pews meant comfort to him, now it was his personal hell sitting there.

A priest appeared, and the ceremony started. The man stepped in front of the casket and started talking. First he talked about death and how his soul would be in heaven, and after a long ten-minute talk, he finished with a quiet sentence.

"Now, Sam Winchester will say a few words about his brother." The priest said, and Sam stood up from beside him.

Cas didn't want to give a eulogy; he felt like people knew Sam more, and he knew Sam deserved to say goodbye to his brother this way. Cas also felt like he was incapable of doing that; he just couldn't.

Suddenly, Cas remembered a dream of his. Earlier, when he was living in the church, he had a dream he died and Dean was a priest. The dream now hurt even more, Cas wished that dream came true instead, but it didn't.

"My brother was a father long before he had Grace. Our dad wasn't really a dad, but Dean was always there for me. He raised me, and he did a good job. He fed me, played with me, and protected me.

He had to face many problems, and for him it was hard to find love and peace. But then he did. With Castiel and their daughter, Grace, he found true happiness.

His death will haunt our family forever, but he will never truly die. A piece of him is still there in Grace, in Castiel, and, of course, in me.

I miss you, Dean. More than anything in the world. I'll take care of Castiel and Grace; I know that's what you'd want, because I know you. I love you, goodbye."

Sam's voice was shaking and cracking by almost every sentence, but he managed to finish it. Castiel could hear how hurt he really was.

The eulogy ended, and Sam sat back down. People stood up, and some of them came up to Castiel and Sam to say how sorry they were. They told funny stories about how they met Dean, but Cas couldn't laugh. Not yet.

The funeral was coming to an end, and Castiel still hadn't seen Dean. Long minutes passed, and only a few people remained in the room.

Castiel, with quietly breathing Grace in his arms, stood up. He took deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. He didn't even realize when he pressed Grace closer to him.

He then sighed; he let out his frustrations and his sadness.

He wanted to disappear so bad, but he couldn't fly. He was trapped in the church with the one person he fought so hard for, but it wasn't like he dreamed it.

All his dreams were shattered and turned into a nightmare, from which he couldn't wake up.

He stepped to the casket and gathered all his strength to look down. But then when he did, he was weaker than ever before.

Dean was lying there, wearing his best suit, his hair perfectly brushed, his eyes closed. Cas wished he would open them, just one more time, so he could get lost in the forest in his eyes just one last time. But Dean didn't open his eyes.

His skin was pale, with a few bruises and cuts on his face, but it wasn't too noticeable. He looked so handsome. Castiel stared at him as he held their child, and he felt the tears roaming down his cheeks.

He closed his eyes and wiped away the tears once again, he didn't want to cry today.

Cas brought something to him secretly. He reached for his pocket and pulled out that little thing he had brought for Dean.

It was CD. Jeff Buckley's only studio album is called 'Grace.' The CD was from Dean's collection; it was the album that had 'Lover You Should've Come Over.' Their song.

Cas thought Dean would want to take that album to death with him too. In that way Cas would be there with him because of their song, and also Grace would be there too because of the name of the album.

Cas placed the CD next to Dean's chest and touched his chest with his finger one last time.

"So I'll wait for you, love. And I'll burn... But I know you'll never return." Cas said the lyrics of the song, but he changed it a little bit. His voice wasn't really shaking now; it was calmer.

And then Castiel noticed how Grace in his arms reached for Dean. Cas' heart broke into a million pieces as he watched their little girl reach for her daddy.

Then when Cas didn't let her go to Dean, Grace started crying. The sound of sobbing made Cas stare down at her. Her eyes were red, and her cheeks were red.

Then Castiel hugged her and started slowly rocking her on his shoulder. Tears rolled down his face as he kept looking at Dean. He wondered what their life could've been like; he knew he'd always wonder.

"Shhh…" Cas said quietly, and he felt like he needed that hug more than the baby.

Then after a few moments when Grace wouldn't stop crying, Cas turned her so she faced him. She reached for Dean again, and this time Cas lifted her closer.

He didn't put Grace down, but he let her little fingers touch her father one last time. Cas even leaned closer and pressed a kiss on Dean's lips.

Then he pulled away and took a long time just staring at him. Then when he felt like it was time, he held Grace close to him and turned around.

Tears blurred his vision, but he took a few steps after he turned around and looked at him one last time. Then he turned around and walked out of the church.

The rest of the funeral was beautiful, although Cas remembered it blurry. He remembered seeing as the casket was buried under the ground and how Sam cried.

He walked towards the car with Grace, his steps felt heavier than ever. Maybe it was because he didn't have any kind of wings to help him now, he was walking on the ground.

He had experienced so many emotions Cas felt like he really was a human. Spending his whole life as an angel and then becoming human was painful, but when he transformed, he wasn't fully a human. He became one after feeling grief, loss, and love at the very same time.

Love is just like energy; it can't be lost. Instead it will be transformed, and that thought kept Castiel going.

Chapter Text

Years later

The bed shifted next to Castiel as he opened his sleepy eyes. Cas lifted his hand and rubbed his eye as he rolled to his other side; the white and black Metallica shirt he was wearing felt soft on his skin.

Cas pulled his lips into a soft smile as he saw his little girl climb into his bed. He moved a little to give her more space as she grabbed the blankets and climbed under them, so they shared the same cover.

Her light brown shoulder-length hair was messy, and her eyelids were heavy. She yawned as she looked over to Castiel. Then she smiled at her father, and Cas reached for her. He pulled her onto his chest and started stroking her shiny hair softly.

Grace hugged her dad as her head rested on Cas' chest. She listened to his heartbeats, like she always did.

It was one of the things they both loved the most. Ever since Grace was a baby, Cas held her close to his heart, and still after years, she would come to him and lay her ear on her father's chest. It was their thing.

"Good morning, baby." Cas said, his voice was raspy and mature. He stared down at Grace on his body, and a warm feeling washed over him.

"Will we go to Uncle Sammy's house today?" Grace asked curiously. She kept her head down, lying still in that same position.

"Yes. It's Sunday, you know we always go on Sundays." Cas replied with still a soft smirk under his tired eyes.

Then after a few quiet minutes, Castiel sighed. Suddenly he just wished Dean was there. He wished he was lying by his side. Castiel wasn't exactly sad, he wasn't crying himself to sleep anymore or anything. He thought back to Dean every day, remembering the greatest time of his life. But each time he felt selfish and guilty for calling that the best time of his life. Selfish, because he enjoyed being Grace's father and loved raising her. Guilty, because he experienced it and loved the experience without Dean.

Then Cas snapped back into reality and felt the familiar feeling in his stomach.

"Who's hungry for some pancakes?" Cas said in an excited voice, and he saw how quickly Grace lifted her head.

"Can I draw while you make them?" Grace said as she climbed off of Castiel. She got out of bed swiftly, Cas sat up too.

"Yeah, of course, Gracie." Cas nodded as he stood up. "Now, let's get you dressed, baby."

Gracie ran off to her room as Cas grabbed another shirt from his closet. He pulled the one he was wearing over his head, and he took a moment to stare at the garment in his hand.

It was one of Dean's shirts. Cas liked to wear his shirts to bed as pajamas; it was like he was still lying in bed with him. It reminded him of Dean. Not that he needed a reminder to remember, his face never left his mind.

He put the clear shirt on and grabbed some jeans as well. After he was ready, he walked to Gracie's room.

The door was already open as he stepped in. The purple rooms went perfectly with Grace's brown bed. They had to change her crib, obviously, and Cas let her choose the bed.

In the corner there was the chair that Cas, Dean, and Sam put together as the last touch of the room. Castiel sometimes still sat in it, reading bedtime stories to his daughter.

Grace was sitting on the floor, playing with some dolls, waiting for her daddy to show up.

Castiel went to her wardrobe and picked out her clothes for the day. A pink long-sleeved shirt with a horse on it and colorful striped leggings.

"Come here." Cas asked, and Gracie stood up to walk over to him. Cas dressed her up in her new clothes, and when she was ready, they walked back to Cas' room to the bathroom.

They brushed their teeth, and when they finished that, Grace stood in front of Castiel. She stared back at herself in the big mirror and took a glance at her father.

Cas grabbed a hairbrush and started slowly brushing her tangled hair. Suddenly he heard an "Ow!" coming from her mouth, but he knew it actually didn't hurt her.

"You're beautiful." Castiel said when he was done as he put the brush down. He stared down at the gorgeous young lady smiling in the mirror.

"Thank you, Daddy. You're beautiful too." She replied, and Cas pulled his lips into a smile as he shook his head.

___________

The smell of pancakes filled the kitchen as Cas stood by the stove, holding the pan in his hand as he peeked at Grace.

She was sitting by the dining table, holding colorful pencils in her hands. Cas didn't see what she was drawing, but he could see the dedication on her face. He saw the way she tried her best to color within the lines.

He turned back to their breakfast as he realized he just burnt one of the pancakes. He swiftly put the pancake onto a plate as he frowned.

The smell of the burnt pancake wasn't strong, but it was there, lingering in the air. It reminded Cas of Dean. His presence wasn't that strong, but he was there. In the shirt Cas wore, in the pictures on the wall, in the child's drawing by the table.

Castiel started a new one, the last one, as he sighed silently. He was immersed in his thoughts, but he kept an eye on the pancake.

When he smelled it was ready, he pushed it on the plate, next to the others, and turned the gas off. He grabbed the pancakes and turned around to put them on the table.

"No! Wait, Daddy, you can't see my drawing yet. It's not finished." Grace said, and Cas chuckled to himself.

"Then hurry up, baby, because I'm starving." He said as he put the plate back on the counter. Cas wasn't impatient, but he didn't exactly like things like that.

"I'll go make my bed, then. I'll be back—" Cas started, but Grace cut him off.

"Wait!" She said, and Cas rolled his eyes.

"Grace—" He was cut off mid-sentence by his daughter once again. Cas thought he had taught her not to speak while others were speaking, but maybe that wasn't enough.

"It's finished." She said as she dropped the pencils from her hands, some of them falling on the floor. Cas glared at her, but when she stood in front of her, with her hands behind her hiding her drawing, his expression changed.

She looked so proud, but Cas could see how nervous she was. Now, he was curious to see her drawing, really.

"Well, can I see?" Cas asked, and she nodded with a shy smile on her lips. She then pulled the paper from behind her back and handed it to her daddy, revealing the art.

Castiel's fingers touched the paper, and he lifted it so he could see it. His eyes widened and his lips parted when he recognized what the drawing was portraying.

In the picture there was Grace standing, dressed in the same clothes she was wearing now. On her left, Castiel saw himself, dressed in the exact garment that he wore at the moment too.

And don't Grace is right, there was Dean. He was wearing a white T-shirt with jeans in the picture. And Grace had drawn wings on him with grey.

Castiel felt his eyes fill with tears, but he held them back, he didn't want to cry in front of Grace, because she wouldn't understand. Instead, he stared down at the drawing, noticing smaller details.

Dean's eyes were green, and his white shirt was blank. And then it hit him how Grace probably gave him his usual shirt because she didn't know what he really was wearing when he was alive.

Tears disappeared, and Cas felt a kind of peace, knowing their daughter just made a drawing of their family, even when she didn't actually know Dean.

And the fact that she gave him angel wings was a huge thing to Castiel. Because it just reminded him how he actually was an angel once and how far he had come.

It reminded him of losing his angel wings and becoming human, and worse, it reminded him of Dean. How Dean became his wings after all that time. Because Dean really made him fly, and when he lost him, he lost those wings too.

Dean took the wings with him as he flew to heaven, and Castiel was left wingless again.

"This is… this is perfect, Grace." Cas said, his voice cracking and weak. He was still on the verge of tears, but he didn't cry when he looked down at her almost five-year-old daughter.

She smiled and looked so proud at herself; she lifted her chin.

"I gave Daddy wings because in kindergarten my teacher said that people who are no longer here are up there with angels taking care of them." Grace said, and Cas wasn't even surprised.

A bittersweet smile appeared on his lips as he nodded. "That's right, Gracie."

She stayed silent for a few seconds and then nervously asked, "Daddy, do you know anyone else who's there too?"

"I know quite a lot of people actually. My brothers and sisters are there with Daddy too, you know. " Cas replied, referring to his angel siblings.

She smiled and then stepped closer to give Cas a little hug.

"Now we should eat. Put this amazing drawing on the fridge for now. Cas said.

"For now? Will you take it off later, Dad?" "Gracie?" he asked, his voice sounding worried.

Castiel put the drawing on the fridge; he attached it with two colorful magnets. One magnet was the letter "L" and the other one was a picture of the sea. Grace picked that magnet when they visited Greece for holiday last year.

Then Cas turned back to her and lifted her up. He held her on his waist by one hand and walked back to the table.

"I will take it off. And I will frame it, and we'll find a place for it on the wall, okay? " Cas replied as he put Grace down on her chair.

She smiled and clapped her little hands with excitement. Cas saw that she was clearly happy, and he felt like he was too.

They ate their breakfast while they talked, and when they finished it, Grace asked if she could play outside. Cas obviously let her do that; he just asked her not to go far from the bunker.

He only let her play in the garden, she wasn't allowed to go to the forest alone. However, Cas loved walking with her in that forest; it was a peaceful activity to do.

When she went outside, Cas did the dishes, and then he went on to do the remaining chores and housework as well.

Every Sunday they would go to Sam's house for a family lunch, so Cas kept checking the time while he worked. He didn't want to be late.

__________

Cas stepped out to the garden looking for Grace as the cool autumn breeze hit his face. It was getting colder and colder every day, but Cas loved this kind of weather.

The garden was mostly green, but some orange and dark brown leaves started to appear on trees and bushes already. In the center of the garden there was a smaller vegetable patch.

Cas noticed Grace sitting on a tiny chair, leaning closer to the plants and vegetables, her hands deep in the muddy soil.

Cas walked up to her and squatted down next to her and frowned.

"What are you doing?"

"I was just checking if any of the tomatoes are ripe." She said and pointed her finger at one. "Look, Daddy, I think that's one good already."

Cas checked only to see that the tomato was not even near to being ripe. It was green slowly turning into red, but far from the usual maroon color of tomatoes.

"No, it's not ripe yet. You see, it's green. "

"But I want to eat it anyways." She said, looking up at her father.

Cas shook his head and said, "It's not ripe yet; you have to wait a few more weeks. Remember, when you paint, you have to wait till it dries up before painting another layer. Because painting on dry paper will just mess up your picture. Eating unripe vegetables won't taste good, and they'll go to waste. "

She stayed silent, trying to process the lesson Cas just taught her, and when she understood it, she nodded.

"Okay, Daddy. I'll wait."

Cas stood up and sighed as she looked around. "Now, let's get goingx lunch is almost ready at Uncle Sammy's house."

_________

"Grace!" Sam greeted the girl as he lifted her in his strong arms and pressed a kiss on her cheek. She giggled and put her hands around her uncle as he put her down.

Sam then stepped closer to Cas and gave him a brief hug. "Well, come in." Sam invited them in.

Cas and Grace both went in, Grace immediately kicking off her shoes and throwing them around.

"Daddy, can I go play with Dylan?" She asked with puppy eyes, and Cas nodded. He grabbed her shoes and put them in the corner, where all the other shoes were.

"What's for lunch?" Cas asked, but he didn't really care what the answer was. He was still haunted by the drawing Grace created earlier, he just couldn't stop thinking about it.

"Iris made hamburgers and fried chicken for the children." Sam replied as he went further in their house. They both went into the living room, where Sam's wife, Iris, was already sitting on the couch.

The two children, Grace and three-year-old Dylan, were sitting on the floor, Iris made them put pillows under their butts so they wouldn't get sick.

"Hey, Cas!" She smiled and stood up; her brown hair looked shiny, and it was like her eyes smiled too.

"Hi," Cas replied as she stepped closer and hugged him too. Then she gestured on the couch, silently inviting Cas to sit down.

So Castiel sat down and watched as Grace and Dylan played with cars. It wasn't exactly a girlish thing; Grace preferred Barbies and dolls, Cas knew that. But Dylan liked cars, and Grace loved Dylan.

The two cousins played; loud childish laughing and sometimes arguing filled the room. The adults talked; they had a fun time too. Cas always loved Sunday afternoons; it was less lonely.

Then when Dylan, with his green eyes and dark hair, said he was hungry, they all went to the kitchen and sat by the dining table.

Grace sat next to her father, and in front of Cas sat Dylan with Iris next to him. At the head of the table, sat Sam. The other head of the table was empty.

Cas glanced over to that side, where Dean used to sit, and stared at the empty chair in silence. The others started eating, but he kept staring. Dean was missing.

From time to time Cas convinced himself he was fine, that he had moved on. But that wasn't true. He wasn't fine, and he didn't move on; he never will.

Sam dealt with the loss and grief differently. Cas didn't understand how he did it. He seemed fine, and sometimes Cas wondered, maybe he didn't just seem fine; maybe he was okay.

In the beginning, Sam cried a lot to Cas. He talked about his brother all the time, telling stories. But then, he didn't cry anymore that much.

Cas was jealous of him for moving on. He knew he had the chance to do so too, he just never took it.

"Uncle Cas?" He heard Dylan's voice, and he snapped out of his thoughts. Reality pulled him back in as he gathered his strength to turn his head from the chair.

Dylan was looking at him like he was waiting for an answer. His face was covered in food, so messy.

"What?"

"I asked what your favorite song was." He said, and Cas raised an eyebrow.

He didn't even have to think about it. He listened to their song with Dean almost every day. It brought him back so many good memories, he knew he couldn't forget even if he wanted to.

"I don't have one." Cas said, and Sam raised an eyebrow at him in surprise. He knew about their song, and when he understood what he was referencing, his heart broke. Cas said he didn't have a favorite song, because his actual favorite song was the song Dean and Cas referred to as "their song." And now there was no them. Dean wasn't there.

The dinner went on, they ate and talked, and then the children went outside in the garden to play. Sam had a beautiful garden; he took great care of it. Castiel's garden was mesmerizing as well, but it was way messier.

He hated to admit it, but he was somewhat jealous of the rich and green garden of Sam. However, his own garden shone in its own messy way, it was unique.

They stayed until it got dark, the sun didn't shine anymore, and the moon appeared in the starless foggy sky. Cas was already tired from the long week, but it was nice staying there.

When Grace and Dylan didn't play anymore and instead just lay on the couch, Cas knew it was time to go. Grace's head was resting on his lap; he was stroking her hair with his fingers quietly. Dylan in his mommy's lap was experiencing the same.

"Gracie, baby, it's time to go home. You still have to go to kindergarten tomorrow." Cas suggested, and Grace nodded; she was so tired.

Then they said their goodbye and left. The ride home was quiet and sleepy. They were both tired, but still Grace didn't fall asleep. She watched as the trees blurred together with the bushes and mountains.

__________

Grace sat down on her bed as she rubbed her sleepy eyes with her tiny fists. Cas sat down beside her and grabbed the blanket. She lay down, waiting for Cas to cover her with the blanket.

Cas tucked her in, the blanket giving her a comfortable warm hug. Castiel leaned closer and smiled as he stared down at the little features of her face. Cas couldn't help but think she was so pretty.

Her sleepy eyes and messy hair whispered she will have a really good sleep.

Then he leaned closer, and Cas pressed a kiss on her forehead. Dean's favorite place to kiss her, he remembered. She didn't know that.

"You know, Daddy's favorite place to kiss you was your forehead. He always loved giving you warm kisses there. " He said, and he saw the way Grace's eyes lit up. She was finally getting to know his father, another piece of him at least.

She smiled softly, and then her mood shifted to nervous. Cas didn't know what caused the sudden change, but he didn't have to ask.

"Dad…" She stared; she sounded really nervous. "He… He would like me, right?" Her voice was so unsure.

Cas' lips parted in surprise. He didn't even consider thinking that maybe she would assume Dean wouldn't like her. That question felt like a punch in the gut, it felt like a twist in his already broken heart.

Cas wished he didn't have to answer this question, it hurt him so much. He felt the tears burn his eyes, but once again he held them back.

"Oh, baby." He started, his voice cracked. He just hoped she wouldn't notice how hurt he was. "Of course he would like you. He would love you, he does. " He said, and saw how from Grace's face the nervous look vanished and a relieved one took over, she smiled.

"You are his grace too." He said it sadly, but it made him feel peaceful now that Grace knew he loved him. From now on Cas knew he had to make sure she knew how much Dean loved her, how much he loves her.

Castiel turned the light off and sent one last kiss to her before he went to his room.

The messy room welcomed him back, and he sat down on the bed. He felt the whole tiring week weigh on his shoulders and eyelids, but he couldn't sleep yet. He still had one thing to do.

As he looked around, the room felt empty. So many used clothes and things were thrown around, making the room look really crowded and full. But still it felt like it was empty. Cas didn't have to think at all to know why.

He felt ashamed because of how messy the room was; he knew it wasn't something he should show his daughter. But sometimes he fell apart like that. Sometimes between the chores he had to do around the house and raising Grace, he didn't have time to take care of himself.

He knew that was wrong, he knew that couldn't lead him anywhere good, but still. From time to time he couldn't resist, he let himself fall to pieces because he knew that he would be close to being put together again. Never actually put together.

He promised himself that this wasn't one of those days. He closed his eyes and sighed. Suddenly he heard the rain.

The house was quiet, Grace was sleeping. He didn't make a sound, only the comforting sound of the pouring rain broke the silence.

Cas stepped to the window and opened it. The sound of rain grew even louder, and it reminded him of Dean. He heard thundering from far away and then saw the lightning strike. It lit up the rainy forest as Cas breathed in the fresh air.

The storm was going away from their direction; he didn't know it for sure, but he could feel it somehow.

He put his head in his hands. Everything reminded him of Dean. Even after almost four years, his memory still haunted him every second. He loved remembering him, but on nights like this he just made Cas feel lonely.

He stood up and went to the desk, pulled out a drawer, and grabbed a paper and a pen. He saw the envelope that he had put there earlier and grabbed that too. Then he sat down on the chair by the desk and lifted the pen.

He put it on the paper and hesitated. Then he smiled to himself as a tear fell from his eyes and pressed the pen on the paper.

"Dear Father John,

It has been around six years since we've met. I'm Castiel. I became homeless, and you were the first person who showed me kindness, and I will always be thankful for that.

Maybe you don't even remember me, I don't know. But I know for sure that I won't forget you. So this is why I'm writing this letter to you.

You once told me that one day I would grow wings as beautiful as an angel's. I did. I had wings; they were called Dean. But five years ago, I lost my wings again.

Now, I have a daughter. Her name is Grace, and she is the kindest soul on the planet. She didn't know Dean personally, but the memory of him is always present.

Thank you for showing the way when the night was dark. You saved me by giving me a home. By giving me hope, faith, and grace. I'm forever grateful for your guidance, and I'm sorry I'm writing this letter just now.

It was today when I realized I'll never have my wings back and I'll never move on. So there is no point in waiting to send this letter to you.

Thank you, Father John.
Castiel.

PS. I don't have wings anymore, but I have Grace."