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Chapter Text

The sun hung low over a sleepy park, its golden light falling in honeyed streaks through the branches. 

The world looked almost sacred in that light, as if Heaven itself were watching. And perhaps it was.

He stood where no eyes could see, cloaked in grace so thick even the wind dared not speak his name. 

His trench coat swayed in a breeze that ignored every other man-made object, the wind touched him softly and giggled feeling blessed. 

To the passersby, there was nothing unusual, but the grass beneath his feet shimmered slightly—lifting like laughter, like the earth itself recognized its caretaker had returned.

The whole place was a little brighter and happier, the people and kids were certainly more relaxed and stress free than ever and even if they didn't know why or how, they relished in it.

He walked in silence, boots not quite touching the ground, floating slightly above, touching yet not trampling and with every step, daffodils bloomed by hedges that hadn't seen color in weeks. 

Birds sang louder. The wind calmed, as though listening. Butterflies touched him softly in thanks and flew to the flowers that had bloomed thanks to him.

Children ran, shrieking with joy, playing tag under the oaks. Care free. At home. Feeling more safe and protected than ever.

One little girl stumbled, her shoelace caught under her foot. Her fall should’ve broken her arm—ruining her day and silencing her laughter.

But as she tumbled forward, an unseen force flicked the edge of her shirt midair—so subtle, so fast—and she landed gently on her knees instead. Her laughter never stopped, as if she never noticed how close pain had been.

He tilted his head, watching. There was no pride in his gaze. Only peace. He didn't smile, nor did he frown, he acknowledged their feeling and basked in the kids happiness.

And then he saw him—a small boy in a wheelchair, no older than seven, sitting apart, silent. His eyes were fixed on the children, but they didn't shine with envy. Only longing. Hope.

As an angel he shouldn't do the God's work but he couldn't stop now, at least not today, he muttered an enochian apology to God.

Then walked to him slowly, stepping through sunlight, each blade of grass underfoot shimmering as if in awe. 

He knelt beside the boy and, after a moment, placed a gentle hand on the child's shoulder, "Your legs remember," he said softly, words not heard but felt in the boy's bones.

Warmth bloomed like a starburst in the child's spine. Nerve endings fired with celestial command. Muscles awakened like petals kissed by dawn. The boy gasped.

And then—he stood. Tears streamed down his mother's face as she watched, unable to comprehend, only knowing that something holy had passed through her child.

She thanked the miracle and the boy for a flickering second saw the shadow of him and he thanked the angel even though it was for flicker of second the boy saw the shadow.

The angel smiled, for the first time almost imperceptibly, and turned slowly feeling a disturbance in the air.

A shriek sliced through the calm air. Far off, near the street, someone screamed. Sirens were approaching.

Turning toward the sound, a frown creased his brow. Behind him, divine light flickered—wings veiled from mortal eyes—as he stepped forward.

On the corner, an old woman knelt, praying beneath the trembling shadow of a man with a knife. She was calm. Her rosary was clenched tight in her fingers, whispering words meant for Heaven.

She didn't know Heaven was already here.

The man raised his blade—

—and the angel squinted.

The knife flew from the man's hand as a bolt of white-hot lightning split the air and struck his shoulder. He crumpled in a twisted scream, pain paralyzing his arm permanently. The old woman looked up, dazed.

She saw nothing. Only a whisper in the wind that smelled like myrrh and iron, but she knew it was divine intervention and prayed a thanks

Then—his eyes widened. Two voices pierced the veil. Two voices not from the park, but elsewhere, their prayers raw with desperation. Not from fear. From love.

A hospital. He should go. He turned his head in the opposite direction, the summon had come—Dean Winchester, calling his name with Bobby Singer at his side, desperate and confused. The time had come to reveal himself.

But not yet.

He had been wandering the Earth waiting for Dean's call, helping people in the meantime and now it has and yet he couldn't go immediately.

He vanished from the park.

The hospital hallway was cold, sterile, but not quiet. Grief echoed in every corner. Room 212. He entered unseen.

Two people knelt by a hospital bed, hands entwined around the small fingers of a child too young to know suffering. Tubes ran like rivers across the sheets. Monitors beeped weakly. The child's breath was shallow.

They were crying. Not for themselves. For her. Their little girl. Castiel knew he can't interfere with death.

Healing was different but death was natural order and death needs a life for life, but not today. Today the balance could tip a little.

He looked at girl, she was in peace, her only worries were leaving her parents alone and that made Cas' heart waver for the first time.

He saw, standing in the corner was the reaper. Ancient. Kind. Patient. A hand already outstretched, waiting.

The angel stepped into the light. The reaper turned—and froze. "Castiel," she whispered in awe and fear. An Angel has visited the Earth.

He did not speak. He only looked at her. Quietly. Firmly. The reaper hesitated. She had been waiting for this soul. It was time.

But Castiel shook his head once, "No," he said, voice calm but ringing with an authority that the planes where they stood rippled and no reaper could deny.

The reaper bowed her head in acceptance and left. Castiel walked to the little girl and moved his hand and a small shimmering grace fell on her like glitter and she giggled getting energized.

The parents never noticed. But they felt a shift—a breeze through the closed window, a sudden lightness in the air.

The child's eyes opened. And smiled. He was gone before the doctors arrived to learn about the miracle.

Night had begun to fall. The barn was waiting. The sigils had been drawn. Dean was pacing like a storm bottled in a man, furious and afraid.

And then—he appeared.

Wings outstretched. Power humming through the very wood and soil. Dean raised his knife. Bobby reached for holy oil.

They didn't understand. Not yet.

But something in Dean's eyes flickered—recognition, perhaps. Not of the face. But of the soul. Because this wasn't a monster. This was someone who had saved him.

This was someone who had just walked the world, healing its wounds in silence. Someone who made children laugh, and grass grow, and flowers bloom. Someone who looked Death in the eye and said not today.

And now he was here—for Dean.

Late? Perhaps.

But only because the world had cried for him first—and he had answered, in silence.

Chapter Text

Dean had never been good with silence. It reminded him too much of loss, but this silence, in the Impala's cabin as he drove through Kansas backroads, wasn't the aching kind. It was filled with something else, something he couldn't name.

He glanced over at Cas, who sat in the passenger seat like he didn't take up space at all, as if the trench coat and tie were a placeholder for something too big to fit in the car. Or the world.

Seeing Cas the first time stirred something in Dean's chest, he didn't know what it was but he didn't question it, and weirdly trusted the angel.

Dean cleared his throat, "You know," he muttered, "You didn't have to zap in with wings blazing and ruin a perfectly good barn door", he said not knowing how to start a conversation with a celestial being.

Cas didn't look at him, just blinked slowly, "I didn't choose the entrance. The warding made it necessary", he said simply, not bothering about Dean's words, his ears were somewhere else, listening to the callings.

Dean scoffed, "Well, next time give a guy a heads up. Thought we were being nuked", he said but he had so many questions in him.

Still, Dean's voice had no bite. Just... curiosity. Beneath it all, he was still stuck on the moment Cas touched him. Not the resurrection. That part was huge. But the way Cas had looked at him. Like Dean was something fragile. Sacred.

And then there were the rumors. The next town they hit, a woman at the gas station kept talking about "a miracle in the park" and "a lightning strike that saved her life." Bobby had rolled his eyes. Dean had frozen.

And then—another town. A hospital nurse said a girl came back from the brink of death and the room had "smelled like flowers and ozone."

Each story was a ripple in the pond. Soft, strange miracles. Untouched by glory or credit. Dean had a theory, but it sounded insane even in his head. He didn't tell anyone not even Sam.

Still... he kept watching Cas. It was three weeks later, on a hunt in Montana, when it happened again.

A small town was dealing with what they thought was a ghost—kids going missing in the forest, screams echoing at night. Turned out it was an old wendigo nest, half-dead and desperate.

The fight was rough. The cave collapsed. Dean barely got the last shot off before the thing lunged at Sam. They were all bleeding, coughing, scrambling through the dark.

Dean cursed under his breath as he clutched a torn shoulder, "God, that's gonna—", he was stopped short as Cas touched him.

Fingers brushed his shoulder, and warmth spread through his skin like the calm of a sunrise. Not heat—light. Pain faded instantly. The bone realigned with no crunch. The blood stopped.

Dean turned, breath caught in his throat. He felt new in every way mentally and physically and smelled the flowers and ozone.

"You okay?" Cas asked simply and Dean nodded, but his voice was stuck. The lives Cas saved and Dean and Sam had been treating him like a lapdog.

Cas turned to Sam, who'd twisted his ankle, and helped him limp out—moving with a gentleness that felt ancient, older than pain itself. Like he'd been healing people since the dawn of breath.

Dean stared, he felt his heart skip a beat. Not just because of the power. But because Cas didn't even look proud. He wasn't showing off. He just saw hurt and fixed it. Quiet. Steady. Without asking for thanks.

That night, as they sat around the motel table, Dean couldn't stop watching him. Cas was looking at the first aid kit, inspecting it like a foreign object.

"You know," Dean muttered, handing him a beer, "you do all that healing with a touch... and you still look at bandages like they're math equations", he said.

Cas took the bottle with an unreadable expression, "The kit comforts you. So I wanted to understand it", he said.

Dean froze, "You what?", he asked and Cas tilted his head, "You're always calmer when you're cleaning wounds. Even your own. I don't need to understand everything. But I... wanted to understand you", he repeated.

Dean looked away, the room felt too small. The next time, it was during a poltergeist case. A child had been thrown against a wall.

Dean ran in first—but by the time he reached her, Cas was already kneeling beside her, hand glowing faintly above her chest. The girl gasped and opened her eyes.

Dean caught the moment. The light, the look in Cas' eyes. Not power. Compassion, "Thank you", she whispered before running to her mother and Dean's heart clenched.

And later, when he asked him why he kept doing this—saving people who weren't part of the job—Cas only replied:

"Because someone should."

The stories kept adding up. Quiet. Unseen. A farmer's crops suddenly blooming after Cas walked through.

A child no longer needing chemo. A woman with dementia speaking clearly for the first time in years, after a stranger in a coat whispered something to her and vanished.

He also heard stories that would scare a kid—lightning strikes that danced without thunder, shadows that moved against the wind, and whispers carried on the breeze that no one could explain.

But all the wrath landed on bad people, criminals and that made Dean wonder, how beautiful the world would be with Cas always protecting it.

One night, in a small town under a heavy sky, a boy swore he saw a figure standing at the edge of the woods, glowing faintly like a star fallen to earth. 

The boy told his mother, trembling, that the figure had lifted him when he fell, and that it whispered, "You're not alone."

No one believed him. Except Dean. Because Dean had seen enough to know when something wasn't just a story.

Cas never claimed credit. Never even smiled. Because maybe, just maybe... Cas was more than an angel.

Maybe he was something else entirely. But Dean started dreaming about it. His hands, warm and glowing. His presence—a quiet hum in the corner of a chaotic world. His voice in the dark, saying "Because someone should."

And slowly—without Dean realizing it—his awe gave way to something deeper. Not thunder. Not fire.
Just... love. Quiet and sure, like a hand over his heart.

Chapter Text

The hunt should've been simple, a banshee targeting terminal patients in a local hospice—easy to track, salt and burn. 

Dean wasn't even worried when he and Sam split up, Cas had vanished midway through again, with nothing more than a, "I'll find the source", murmure.

Dean rolled his eyes, but he didn't argue. Not anymore. Cas always came back, bruised by things Dean couldn't name.

But tonight felt... different. The banshee was already dead when Dean reached the room. The silver blade, humming with angelic grace, was lodged in its chest.

Cas stood over it, wings flickering through the planes faintly in the hospital's dim yellow light, but what stopped Dean cold was the look on his face.

Not calm. Not serene. Broken, Dean stepped forward slowly, "Cas?", he called and Cas flinched. Just slightly. Like the name pulled him back from somewhere far away.

Dean took another step and saw the girl in the bed. Maybe six years old. Pale. Gaunt. Her mother clutched her, sobbing.

The girl was breathing again, alive, Dean frowned, glancing from the child to Cas, "You got here in time?", he asked but Cas didn't answer.

But Dean saw it now—saw him, his posture was wrong, shoulders trembling, one hand braced against the wall like he couldn't stand.

And his eyes—blue, endless—were swimming with tears, Dean's voice dropped, "Hey. Cas. What happened?", he asked worry slipping into his voice.

Cas inhaled sharply and then—whispers. Voices. Screams. Dean staggered back as something pressed against the space around them. Not physical. Memory. A thousand shards of human grief. A father's guilt. A mother's scream. A child's terror. Regret. Pain. Agony.

And all of it was leaking off Cas like smoke, Dean's voice was a whisper, "What... what is this?", he asked swallowing hard.

Cas blinked slowly, "She was dying. Not from the banshee. From the cancer", he said and Dean blinked, "I know", he said.

"She had already accepted it. But her mother hadn't. And her father... he never came to say goodbye. It was a wound", he said and Dean's face slumped with realization.

"So you healed her", he said, "Yes", Cas simply said, Dean looked back at the girl, now peacefully asleep in her mother's arms.

"And the memories?" he asked, heart suddenly in his throat, Cas finally met his eyes, "I took them", he said his eyes full of pain.

Dean's stomach dropped, "You what?", he asked and Cas finally let the weight in and leaned against the wall, every line in his face carved with sorrow. 

"She was afraid. Alone. She blamed herself. Her parents had fought for months after the diagnosis. Screamed at each other. She thought it was her fault. She felt like... like a burden", he said.

Dean swallowed hard, "You took that from her?", he asked, "I had to," Cas whispered. "Her body is healed, but the memories would have festered. Grown into something else. So I gave her peace", he said.

Dean's voice was hoarse, "And what—you just carry it now?", he asked already knowing the answer and Cas nodded once. 

"Every time I heal someone, I take what hurts the most. Their worst memory. Their guilt. Their shame. I carry it, so they don't have to", he said and Dean's heart shattered.

Dean stared at him, "Jesus, Cas...", he said unable to continue, "It's not enough," Cas said, quietly, "But it's something", he said.

"You're not supposed to do that alone," Dean growled, voice rough with emotion, "That's not—you're not a dumping ground for everyone else's trauma", he stated.

"I don't mind," Cas said simply and Dean stepped forward, anger warring with something deeper, "Cas. That's not—how do you even keep going?", he asked.

Cas looked up at him, expression unreadable, "I remember them all," he said, "Every scream. Every betrayal. Every goodbye no one said. But I would rather bleed with them than let them carry that kind of sorrow alone", he said as if it was easy, but his eyes were carrying much more than he could handle.

Dean's throat tightened, the angel wasn't glowing now. Wasn't powerful or holy or terrifying.

He was tired.

Just... tired.

And still standing. Dean didn't think, he just moved forward and sat beside him, shoulder to shoulder on the hospital floor, back against the wall.

He didn't speak. Didn't push. Just stayed. After a while, Cas exhaled, slow and uneven and let his head rest gently against Dean's shoulder.

Dean didn't move away, he just reached over—and took Cas' hand and in the quiet, Dean realized something: This wasn't the righteous hand of God.

This was someone who had chosen to stay in a broken world. Who carried the memories so no one else had to. Who walked invisible through cities and still cared.

And Dean fell in love a little more. Not with the wings, but with the man who bore the weight of them.

Then another night, another healing and it started with a cold night and it got colder if possible and it was definitely due to Dean getting chills from Cas holding so much.

They were holed up in a cabin outside Wyoming, a successful salt-and-burn, no injuries, no mess. 

The kind of rare quiet that made Dean restless, he stood on the porch, staring at the stars, a beer in hand. Silence all around.

Behind him, the cabin door creaked open. Cas. Of course it was, Dean didn't turn, "Come to say goodnight, angel?", he said giving him the familiar nickname he introduced.

Cas stepped beside him, face tilted to the sky, "You rarely sleep early. I thought perhaps you were waiting", he said and Dean huffed.

"For what? Divine inspiration?", Dean asked slipping into his masked humor and Cas slightly tilted his head looking at Dean.

"For peace", he said and Dean flinched, Cas turned his eyes toward him—deep, unreadable blue, "You've never asked me to heal you", he stated as if realizing it now only.

Dean shrugged, "Don't need it", he although his heart and mind was telling the exact opposite and Cas heard it, he always does.

"Your leg still stiffens when it rains. You favor your left side when you're tired. You have a scar near your ribs that pulls when you breathe too deep", he said shocking Dean.

Dean stared down into his beer, "I've had worse", he said and Cas sighed, "That's not the point", he stated.

Dean turned, suddenly sharp, "Then what is, Cas? You wanna play Florence Nightingale and swoop in? Fix me?", he asked getting a little agitated.

Cas was quiet for a moment, then— "I don't want to fix you, Dean. I want to help you carry it", he said as if stating a simple fact, but it wasn't the same for Dean.

That stopped him cold, "I'm fine", he said not knowing what else to say to this much love, "You're not," Cas said gently, "You carry so much pain. And not just in your body", he said.

Dean's knuckles tightened around the bottle, "Don't", he said feeling that he would break any minute, yet Cas didn't.

"I can take it," Cas said softly, "Just a little. Not all of it. Just the memories that keep you up at night. The screams. The blood. The guilt. Let me", he said softly almost begging.

Dean's voice cracked, "You don't get it, Cas. You take it, and then what? You feel it. I can't let you—you shouldn't have to suffer because of me", he said confessing the real reason and looked at Cas.

And Cas— Cas smiled, a soft, broken thing, "I already do," he whispered, "Every time I watch you carry it alone", he said.

Dean closed his eyes, "Cas. Please", he begged yet Cas never took heed and reached out, fingertips brushing just below Dean's temple, feather-light.

And the memories—oh, God— They moved. It hit Cas like fire and ice at once. A torrent.

Dean's screams in Hell. Forty years of torture, each second carved into his soul. His father's disappointment. His mother's burning ceiling. The cold silence after Sam jumped into the Cage. Every time Dean said I'm fine and wanted to die instead.

It surged into Cas like water into lungs and for the first time in his billion years of life he staggered.

Dean grabbed him, panicked, "Cas! Cas, stop!", he called holding onto Cas' waist who was leaning heavily on him.

But Cas clutched Dean's jacket and kept going, because it wasn't just pain, it was love, too.

The night Dean held baby Sam for the first time and promised to protect him.
The way he looked at Bobby when he called him "son."
The feeling of driving the Impala at dawn with Kansas playing low on the radio.
The moment Cas had first pulled Dean from the Pit, and Dean had breathed again.

Cas saw it all and took it in. Not to erase it. To know him. When he finally stepped back, Dean was shaking. Barely standing.

Cas reached out and laid a hand over Dean's chest, "There's still more", he said and Dean kept his hand over Cas' holding it close to his chest.

"No," Dean whispered, "I can't—if you take any more, you'll—", he said and stopped as Cas backed slightly from him and turned.

Sam was watching from the doorway, pale, wide-eyed, "I'm next, aren't I?" Sam said hoarsely, "You don't have to—" Dean started.

But Sam stepped forward. He looked at Cas and nodded. Sam's pain was quieter. Like an echo down a hallway. Not less, but more... buried.

Lucifer's laughter. Jess burning. The slow loss of faith. The guilt of starting the apocalypse. The way he still questioned every choice.

But Cas held it like a father holds a grieving child and then, without a word, he collapsed to his knees.

"Cas!", Dean caught him, barely managing to keep him upright, panic roaring in his chest as he saw blood trickle from Cas' nose.

His breath came shallow, his wings flickered—faded, glitched within the two planes making the boys see it slightly as a shadow.

Dean crouched beside him, heart hammering, "Damn it, I told you not to—why did you do that?!", he asked furious and Cas looked up at him.

Tears in his eyes, "I wanted to give you the life you two deserve, not the life you were raised and pushed into", he said and Dean's heart cracked open.

Because that was what Cas had done. He hadn't just taken pain. He'd taken responsibility for it. Chosen to feel it. And still stayed.

Dean reached for him, arms pulling Cas forward, cradling him tight and the angel leaned into him feeling human warmth for the first time.

"You idiot," he whispered, voice trembling, "You stupid, beautiful, stubborn angel", Cas closed his eyes, forehead pressing to Dean's collarbone. 

"I'm not strong like you", he whispered as Dean wiped his tears, "You're stronger," Dean choked, "So much stronger", he whispered and kissed him on his head.

They stayed that way—partner and partner, soldier and angel. Grief woven with love. The air thick with things never said.

But known. Finally known.

Chapter Text

The night air in the Bunker was cold, not biting—but still, a stillness like the moment before snowfall, the kind that hushes everything into reverence.

Dean lay awake in his bed, he hadn't slept—not really—in days, the healing Cas gave him had mended the physical aches, but the soul, that was different.

He felt light, he definitely did, it was not like he had forgotten everything, the painful memories, no they were still there.

But he didn't remember the pain, it was like the pain was gone, it was like watching a movie with no connection or emotions towards it.

He knew it should hurt, he knew it should make him cry, but it didn't, it didn't feel like anything at all, so it made him feel something else.

Guilt wasn't a wound, it was a weight and tonight, it pressed heavy on his chest, why? Because the pain he didn't feel was felt by Cas. 

He knew Cas was carrying it, he knew Cas knew him now like an open book and that felt both great and awful.

He stared at the ceiling of his bedroom, wishing he could go back, take back every time he doubted Cas. 

Every time he treated his love like a soldier, not a soul, the door creaked. He didn't turn. He didn't have to.

He knew those footsteps, Cas didn't say anything at first, just walked to the foot of the bed and stood there, waiting.

Dean finally spoke, "Couldn't sleep", he said and even though he didn't know, Cas has sensed that and was there for that reason.

"I know," Cas said gently, here was silence again, then Dean shifted, sitting up slowly, "You... you didn't have to heal me earlier", he said.

Cas blinked, head tilted just slightly, familiar and fond, "Of course I did", he said and Dean shook his head. 

"No. I mean—you did it even after hearing what I said. After everything I put you through. After all the times I—", he stopped his voice catching in his throat, how can he apologize after everything he's done.

Cas crossed the room quickly and kneeled beside the bed and took Dean's hand, he made Dean look at him.

His voice was low, reverent, "You think love is a debt, Dean. It isn't. It's a choice. One I've made every single day. Not because I'm bound to you. But because... I belong with you", he said softly.

Dean choked on his breath, "I'm supposed to be strong," he whispered, "I'm supposed to protect the people I care about. But you—", he said trying to explain, trying to do something to make Cas feel great.

Cas reached up, fingertips brushing his cheek, "You do protect us. All of us. In ways I can't. You give people something I never knew I needed", he said.

Dean stared at him, broken open, "What's that?", he whispered and Cas smiled, soft and small, brushing Dean's hair away from his forehead.

"Home", he said softly and that shattered Dean completely, all his life he never had a home, running with his father and brother, going from town to town and now here he was, an angel of lord was telling him that Dean made him feel at home and for once even Dean felt at home.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Cas's and for a moment, the world didn't feel so heavy.

Cas's grace shimmered faintly between them—just a whisper of light. Not power. Not show. Just warmth. Real and quiet and healing.

As always comforting Dean like he needed and Dean closed his eyes, "How do you do it? Keep giving? Even when it hurts?", he asked asking for a genuine answer.

Cas exhaled like starlight, "Because hope is a fire. And sometimes the world forgets how to light it. So I do. Until someone else remembers. Until you remember", he said as if it is the simplest thing in the Universe.

Dean smiled through tears, "God, I love you", he confessed finally spilling his feeling and Cas cupped Dean's back head holding him close.

Cas smiled back, "You were always meant to", he said and Dean pulled away looking playfully offended.

"That's it? You aren't gonna say it back?", he asked and Cas chuckled, "I don't think I need to say it cause words aren't enough for me to tell you how I feel about you", he said and Dean melted.

"Why are you being such a sap for me?", he asked and Cas pulled him close again, making their foreheads touch again.

"Because you are the one who makes me feel things", he said and Dean smiled pulling Cas closer by his trench coat.

They stayed like that—two men who had seen the end of the world, still believing in tomorrow, but more than that still believing in each other.

Later, Cas curled beside him under the blanket, one arm around Dean's waist, hand pressed gently against his heart—not to heal, but to hold.

And Dean, who had fought monsters, demons, gods and himself— Slept. Peacefully. For the first time in weeks.

Because Cas was there. And when Cas is there—

There is always hope.

Chapter Text

It began with a child. Of course it did.

She was maybe five, brown curls, big, frightened eyes, lost in the wreckage of an overturned church after a demon attack that had torn through Wyoming. 

Dean and Sam were clearing the scene, salting and burning what remained of the black-eyed bastards.

The girl had crawled into a confessional, knees scraped, arms shaking and Dean found her. She was silent. Wouldn't speak. Wouldn't cry. Just sat there, staring at the broken stained glass.

Dean crouched, "Hey. It's okay. You're safe now", he said softly and she didn't move, looking at him scared, no, lost.

And then— The air shifted, Dean felt the warmth and breeze of the angel before he appeared and he smiled.

Cas stepped out from behind the ruins, as if the smoke parted for him. Maybe it did—when he comes, even nature stops.

The girl's eyes snapped to him, and Dean watched something happen—like recognition, like safety.

Cas knelt slowly, letting her see him, his voice was a whisper, "You were very brave", he said his lips parting a little as he saw her pain.

She blinked at him. Cas reached out. Didn't touch her. Just opened his hand between them. She nodded once—and then she leaned forward and pressed her tiny palm to his.

Light bloomed—warm and bright. Dean couldn't describe it; he tried later, but all he could say was that it felt like everything hurt less.

The girl shivered and suddenly gasped, clutching her chest. Cas's hand shook; his posture dipped, just slightly.

And the girl began to cry—not out of fear, but from release, she fell forward, burying herself in Dean's arms.

Dean looked up sharply with pain and thanking in his face, Cas has done it again, but at what cost.

Cas was on his knees again, Dean wanted to hold him, to make him let go of all the pain, but not now, soon enough, Sam helped the girl find her mother and they were heading back to the motel.

Later, in the motel, Dean found him in the bathroom, Cas had the door open, but was kneeling over the tub, one hand gripping the porcelain so hard it had cracked beneath his fingers.

Dean saw that side of the floor also cracking due to Cas' leaning on it and his other hand trembled violently.

"Cas", Dean called approaching him slowly, an angel in pain is slightly dangerous, Cas didn't look up, "I'm fine", he said knowing what Dean was going to ask.

Dean crouched beside him, "Bullshit", he said yet never said anything more, he knew Cas will confess, just like he does to Cas.

"She was small", Cas whispered, "But she had seen her brother possessed. He died screaming. She thought it was her fault. She begged God to take her instead", he continued his voice breaking.

Dean's heart cracked, that much pain for a child was too much, Dean knew that but for Cas after all these healing for more than 2 years, that will be too much for him too, now.

"I took that," Cas said, "All of it. I made her forget", he said breathing hard and Dean understood, Cas was tired.

Dean's voice was hoarse, "You feel it, don't you? Like it happened to you?", he asked, "Yes. And it's ok I can handle it", Cas said looking up into Dean's eyes and Dean sighed.

Dean grabbed a towel and pressed it gently to Cas' nose—bleeding again, "How many more times? Just because you can handle it doesn't mean you have to Cas, you told me that didn't you?", Dean asked.

Cas didn't answer, so Dean asked again, louder, "How many, Cas?", and he was only met with silence.

"How many people have you healed like that since you first set foot on Earth?", he asked, maybe Cas didn't understand, he thought, Cas exhaled, "Do you want the number?", he asked.

"I need it", Dean said taking the towel away and helping Cas up to his feet and Cas turned slowly and his voice was low. 

"Seven thousand, two hundred and sixty-four", he said as they both walked out to the room and Dean stopped.

His hand dropped from Cas and he turned his body to face Cas, Cas didn't look proud, didn't look sad nor happy, he looked tired and contended.

Dean's knees hit the floor and he looked up and stared at Cas like he was seeing him for the first time.

If anyone else saw them it would look like Dean was praying to him and maybe he was, if Cas was able to do this much, Cas would be the only one Dean would believe in.

"You've taken on seven thousand people's worst memories?", he asked and Cas only nodded, Dean's throat closed, "Why?", he asked softly.

Cas didn't speak for a long moment, then—"Because if I didn't... who would?", he asked like a child, but having lived so many years and having seen so much.

Dean's eyes burned, he was not going to cry, not today, today he was going to help Cas, "You shouldn't have to carry that alone", he said and Cas touched Dean softly on his face.

"I do", he said as Cas leaned into the touch, the touch was home for Dean, something about Cas has always made Dean feel at peace.

"No," Dean said fiercely, holding onto Cas' hand and getting up, "Not anymore. Not with me", he said.

That night, Dean drove them out to a field. Burnt grass. Old battlefield. A place where they'd lost a hunter years ago.

The air was still. Silent. "Let it go," Dean said softly seeing Cas look around the place as if planning to heal it.

Cas stood in the center, shaking his head, "I can't", he said and Dean held his shoulder, "You have to love, if you don't, next time you heal someone, you will kill yourself", he said slipping the nickname.

"I'm afraid", Cas whispered, yet Dean was starting to feel the memories physically radiate off of Cas.

"I'm not", he said and that was it, Cas broke and started backing slowly away from Dean as he let go.

The wind screamed. Dean stood his ground as memories poured from Cas—thousands of them. Pain. Grief. Children's cries. Deathbed prayers. Final thoughts.

The air became heavy. Grass wilted. The sky cracked.

And Dean walked over to the Angel and held him through it all, even while letting go Cas was protecting Dean, he felt an invisible wall around him and then it all ended.

Cas fell to his knees again, sobbing for all of them and Dean, without hesitation, dropped to the ground with him. 

Pulled him into his chest and held him, "I've got you," he whispered, "You don't have to keep it all anymore. You've done enough", he said because what Cas needed now was comfort and love.

Cas clung to him like a dying man, but for once, he wasn't dying, he was healing, because this time, someone chose to carry him.

For Dean, it happened all at once, as soon as Cas released the memories—grief, screams, last breaths, fear of death, loneliness—the sky above them cracked open in streaks of light and wind.

The field shuddered beneath their feet, the trees along the edge of the woods wilted, leaves curling as if touched by plague.

The grass turned black, the soil cracked, and Dean held him through it all, he didn't let go, not once.

But then— A breath. A hush. Dean felt warm first and he looked down into his angel and Cas was still collapsed, eyes fluttering closed, and in the silence that followed—

Something stirred. The wind shifted. And life came rushing back. The earth breathed. Dean's mouth hung open.

"Cas, don't, you can't", he whispered but Cas didn't hear it and Dean watched, saw the miracle of heaven in real time.

One by one, the blackened blades of grass turned green. Wildflowers bloomed from cracked stone. Trees straightened their backs and unfurled new leaves like hands reaching for the sky. A stream, dry for decades, burst from the edge of the field and glittered in the moonlight, flowing like tears finally shed.

Dean sat there, arms still wrapped around Cas, eyes wide, he felt Cas move a bit and held him closer if possible.

The sky was clear now. And full of stars. Birdsong returned. Not a chorus—just one, soft, pure. Like a thank you and Dean's eyes teared up, this was what he was working for, life.

Dean looked down at Cas, still unconscious in his arms, glowing faintly like he was made of light and ash and love.

"You did that?", Dean whispered, voice cracked with wonder, Cas stirred. Barely. That made Dean panic a bit, but in heart he knew Cas would be alright.

Dean swallowed hard as Cas got up, fully leaning on him, "How are you still standing after all you've done?", he asked and Cas collapsed into his arms not answering.

Dean lifted him in bridal way and looked around as nature did answer his question, he smiled and walked to baby looking around him in awe.

Everything around them leaned toward him. As if remembering its Maker. As if the world itself loved him back.

His drive way back to the motel was quiet, but it made Dean think a lot and he was thankful for it, he loves Cas.

And it went on like that—for years. They hunted. They saved people. And Cas kept healing. Quietly. Endlessly.

He never kept count anymore. But Dean did, seven thousand, eight thousand and so on and everytime Cas overloaded Dean took him to a barren land, not by choice but by force from Cas.

And the land will not be barren after Cas was done and Dean didn't know whether to be happy or worried that Cas was expending himself so much.

But Dean knew better than that to interrupt or stop Cas, so he did the only thing he knew, he was there for Cas, this time.

Chapter Text

Dean and Sam were in the library when the frost began at the threshold. Not gentle. Not quite, making the brothers get up looking around.

It cracked across the Bunker's stone floors like glass under pressure. The walls groaned. Lights shattered one by one as if bowing to an ancient force. The sigils in the war room began to burn, not glow.

And the temperature? Dropped like a blade. Dean and Sam stood frozen. Literally, the cold had sunk into his bones like a promise.

Sam was already at the war room table, mouth parted, hand outstretched, "Dean," he whispered, "He's here", he whispered scared.

Dean didn't ask who, he didn't need to, because there was only one entity who bought hell with him, because Death had come.

And he didn't look human. Or like a reaper. Or even a god. He looked like the end. This was the new death and he was scarier than any death Dean has seen.

Tall. Black cloak darker than thought. Eyes like twin black holes—pulling in time, space, light, hope. The scythe was in his hand now. Not resting. Poised.

Dean drew a breath, and it cut, he stepped forward anyway, "Why are you here?", he asked finding his voice.

Death didn't speak to Dean, he didn't even look at him, he didn't come for him, not today, so he spoke to the air.

"The angel has gone too far", he said and Dean's heart stopped, "Cas?", he asked already knowing the answer.

Death turned his head now, just slightly, "You were warned. This was not your war. The natural order has tolerated your compassion. But you have interfered with the balance of souls. You have undone death one too many times", he explaining walking front and Dean quickly stepped in front of Sam praying to Cas.

And then— A voice from behind Death. Steady. Soft. But pulsing with authority, "I'm here", he said and the cold faltered.

Like something older had stepped in, Cas walked into the room, coat brushing frost, grace held close—but there.

Not burning. Radiating. Death turned to face Cas and Dean held his breath, the bunker was turning warmer, slightly warmer, yet it was huge.

The brothers eyes widened because Death took a full step back. Cas's wings shimmered behind him—faint, like gold beneath river water, fluttering slightly making the room warmer, visible, not fully, only to make the room warmer.

"I know why you've come," Cas said, "And I reject your premise", he stated and Death blinked once. 

"You don't have the authority to refuse me", he said and Dean held his breath, will Death take Cas away again?, was his only thought.

"I do", Cas said, "I am an angel of the Lord. I do not serve you and I definitely don't have to abide by your order", he said.

"You serve the natural order", Death stated and Cas tilted his head, "No," Cas corrected, eyes sharpening, "I uphold it. When it fails", he said.

The lights above flickered and held, the sigils stopped burning and started glowing with warmth making Dean stare, Sam didn't blink.

Death's voice grew colder, "You have healed nearly eighteen thousand. You have broken threads written in the Book of the Dead. You took a soul from my own hands two nights ago", he said.

Cas didn't move, "I did. A girl, age seven. Died alone in a house fire. Her lungs were ash, but her soul was still reaching out for her mother. That death was not mercy. It was theft. I took her back", he said.

Death's eyes narrowed, "And what of the millions I do take?", he asked, "I let you," Cas said. Calm. Unshaken. 

"I am not opposing death. I am correcting injustice. I save children whose souls still bloom. I grant time to those still bound by love", he said and Dean stared in awe.

He wasn't just hearing Cas's words, he was feeling them. The air was warm again now—but humming. Like standing beside a thunderstorm waiting to break.

Death's voice cracked like ice, "You presume to decide who lives and dies?", he asked and Cas chuckled.

"No", Cas said, stepping forward, eyes sharpening like blades, "I presume to decide who deserves another chance. Because I've seen death in its rawest form. I've seen people rot before they ever touched joy. I've seen monsters live into old age while children die in closets", he said and the Winchesters felt the shiver down their spine.

He took another step and the floor shook, "I've watched tyrants make bargains with demons. I've watched reapers take the weak because they were easier to carry. I've seen you take those who weren't ready. And I've had enough", he said and Death raised the scythe.

"Stand down, angel. Or I will remove you", he said Dean's heart stopped and Sam reached for his brother knowing he will interfere.

And Cas—Cas... Smiled. But it wasn't kind. It was ancient. And it scared the Winchesters, "You don't scare me, I have faced death quite a few times", he said.

"But it would hurt you if I remove him", Death said pointing to Dean who gulped and Cas tilted his head—and his eyes burned.

Not just blue. Heaven's wrath. Pure, blinding. Grace unmasked. "I am not a fledgling seraph, not anymore," he said, wings flaring behind him, through the planes in red and vanishing. 

"I tore souls from perdition. I razed Alastair's pit. I broke through the Veil during the Reckoning. I stood before God Himself and chose humanity", he said and the frost evaporated.

"I built a Heaven no archangel could imagine. I sustained it through mercy. Not because I wanted worship. But because I remembered every name", he said and the lights blew out.

And all that remained was Cas—burning, "You cannot kill me," Cas said, stepping forward, voice a war hymn. 

"You may end flesh. You may take breath. But I am not just form. I am purpose. I am love with teeth", he said Death raised his scythe again, to protect himself this time.

"You overestimate your place", he said trying to threaten yet Cas didn't flinch, but his voice dropped—cold as the void.

"You threatened me. That I accepted", he said and then—he turned to Dean, "You threatened him", his voice went more deep and colder if possible and the world shifted.

Dean stumbled back, breath stolen from his lungs, because the room cracked, stone walls screamed.

Every sigil on the floor exploded in light and Death— Death faltered, Cas's voice boomed now. Not yelling. Just louder than creation.

"You will not touch him", he said, the bunker was vibrating now. The scythe dipped—just slightly. And Death, for the first time in eternity... lowered his gaze.

Because something deeper than time stood before him. Something older than Death himself, the angel who would save the world—and destroy it—for love.

Cas took a single step forward. "If you lay a finger on Dean Winchester, I will end you. Not because I want to. Not because I can. But because even Death is not immune to consequences", he said and flicked his hand.

The scythe disappeared. And Death... vanished. Not permanently but banished from the bunker, away from the brothers.

The silence after was deafening, the frost was fully gone, the Bunker warm again, Dean and Sam stood frozen, not to cold this time.

Cas exhaled slowly, wings dimming, eyes returning to their soft blue, he turned to Dean, "I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't want you to see that part of me", he said not meeting Dean's eyes for the first time.

Dean couldn't speak. Not at first. Then—he stepped forward and cupped Cas's face, eyes shining, "You have no idea how beautiful that was", he said making Cas look at him.

Cas blinked, "You saved thousands. And you'd still burn the world for one", he said and Cas smiled.

Dean kissed him. Right there. In the center of the war room. And this time? The lights didn't flicker. They brightened.

That night, Dean found Cas outside the Bunker, standing beneath the stars, the same ones they'd driven beneath, fought beneath, died beneath few times.

Dean walked up slowly, "You okay?" he asked, pulling Cas into his arms, Cas didn't answer right away.

"I threatened Death," he said, "And I meant every word", he said and looked at Dean's face, hoping a scared reaction.

Dean nodded, "Yeah. I know", he said his expression calmer than ever, "I've never done that before", Cas replied pulling away.

Dean smiled, "You sure? 'Cause that felt practiced", he said trying to lighten the mood and Cas huffed a small laugh.

Dean stepped beside him, hands in his jacket, "I get it," he said, "You were protecting me. I just...", he hesitated.

"I don't want you to lose yourself doing that", he said openly and Cas turned to him, expression unreadable, "Dean. Don't you see? Protecting you is how I found myself", he simply said as if that was it.

Dean blinked, Cas stepped closer, "You once asked me why I carried pain. Why I healed strangers. Why I kept walking into fire", he said and reached out—gently touched Dean's chest, over his heart.

"It was never about saving everyone. It was about saving you", he said and Dean's breath caught.

"And I'll do it again," Cas whispered, "Because angels don't just fall. Sometimes we rise. And when we rise... we burn", he said and Dean leaned forward.

Their foreheads touched and the stars above them shimmered just a little brighter, because this time, they weren't standing beneath Heaven.

They were standing inside it.

Chapter Text

It was three days after Death had come and gone and it was strangely quiet. The Bunker was still. Dean was out on a supply run. Cas was in the library, quietly re-shelving books. The silence felt softer now. Sacred.

Sam had been waiting for the right moment and now, as he stood at the edge of the room, he knew there wouldn't be a better one.

He stepped forward, "Cas", he said and Cas turned, hands still on a leather-bound volume of celestial lore, "Sam", he said not even surprised.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck, "Got a second?", he asked a little awkwardly and Cas nodded, "Of course", he said.

Sam gestured toward the chairs, they sat across from each other at the long oak table, the light from the green-shaded lamp cast gentle halos over their faces.

"I've been thinking", Sam began, "About what happened. About what you said. About how many lives you've saved", he said trying not to be rude.

Cas watched him, silent indicating him to go on as Sam hesitated, "But you don't save everyone. Do you?", he asked.

Cas didn't flinch, he nodded once, like he has accepted and he had a reason and he did, "No. I don't", he stated simply.

Sam exhaled, "Can I ask why if it's ok?", Sam asked and Cas smiled slightly before looking down at his hands.

They were scarred now—not visibly, not to mortal eyes—but Sam could feel the age in them. The weight. He looked like the pages of a very old book, handled too many times but never forgotten.

"I used to try," Cas said quietly, "At first, I saved everyone I could. No distinction. No balance. Just... life, returned. Again and again", he said honestly.

He looked up, his eyes were so ancient now, even behind the softness, that it made Sam stagger mentally, how can one live on with that much memories and past, was his only thought.

"And then the world started to bend. Threads snapped. Fates recoiled. I healed a man who murdered his family a week later. I resurrected a child who lived in agony until she begged to die again", he continued pain slipping into his voice.

Sam swallowed hard, "I realized... mercy isn't always kindness. And life—real life—has to mean something. It has to be wanted. It has to be ready", Cas explained.

Sam nodded slowly, "You... choose now", he said, "Yes," Cas said smiling in a sad way, "Not because I think I'm better. But because I listen. To the soul. To its rhythm", he said.

He leaned forward, "You asked me why I don't save everyone", he said and Sam nodded and Cas looked pained.

"Because some don't want saving", he stated and Sam blinked, "I am sorry?", he asked not fully understanding.

"I healed a man once," Cas continued, "He was drowning in addiction. Alone. I restored his body. Gave him a clean start", he said.

He paused, "Two months later, he walked into traffic. Not because he was in pain—but because he thought he didn't deserve the second chance. Because he couldn't believe he was worthy of it", Cas said his voice cracking.

"I don't just heal bodies, Sam. I feel what they feel. I take their memories. Their sorrow. Their fear", he said and sat back in the chair, looking suddenly so very tired.

He touched his temple as if all the memories were surfacing as he talked about it and Sam looked worried, Dean wasn't here.

"There's only so much a soul can carry. Even mine", Cas said controlling himself, Sam's throat was tight, "Why keep going?", he asked.

Cas smiled faintly as if it was simple, "Because sometimes... I find a soul ready to live. A girl who just needed someone to say her name again. A boy who stopped believing anyone cared. An old woman who had one more story to tell her granddaughter", he said and suddenly his smile seemed brighter than anything Sam has seen.

He met Sam's eyes, "And those moments make everything else worth it", he said and Sam also smiled this time.

Sam's voice came out small, "Do you... ever regret the ones you let go?", he asked and Cas looked away.

"Every day", he said and suddenly no more questions were needed to be asked and silence settled between them. Not heavy. Just real.

Then Sam leaned forward, voice quiet, "And do you ever... resent the people who ask you to save them?", he asked.

Cas blinked, "Never", he said and Sam looked down at his hands, this was a sensitive topic, "What about Dean?", he asked.

Cas paused, then smiled, "Dean doesn't ask me to save him. He asks me to stay. That's different", he said.

Sam smiled too, faintly, then something flickered in Cas's grace as if the sudden remembrance was surfacing to every memory.

"Would you like to see them?" Cas asked softly, Sam tilted his head, "See what?", he asked confused.

"The ones I didn't save", Cas said and Sam's heart clenched, "Wouldn't that be... cruel?", he asked feeling the smallest pain on the ones he had lost during hunts.

Cas shook his head, "Not all of them died in pain. Some... passed in peace. I remember them. I honor them. I carry their names", Cas said and Sam thought for a second and nodded.

Cas lifted his hand— And light unfurled. Not harsh. Not radiant. Just soft images, like water on old film.

A woman holding her partner's hand, eyes closed with a smile. A child surrounded by siblings, laughing one last time. An old man who kissed a dog's forehead, "I'll see you soon", he whispered.

Sam's eyes blurred with tears, "These were the ones who asked for rest," Cas said, "And I gave it", he said and pulled his hand away.

The images faded and Sam looked struck, Cas looked at him, honest and open, "I'm not just an angel of life, Sam. I'm also a witness", he said and Sam hugged Cas tightly.

"Thank you," he whispered not knowing what else to say to this... miracle, this selflessness, Cas tilted his head, pulling away.

"For what?", he asked confused, "For carrying them. For remembering them. Even when no one else did", Sam answered simply.

Cas smiled softly, "Someone has to", he said and in the quiet that followed, Sam finally understood—

That Cas didn't heal the world because he could. He did it because he wouldn't let it suffer alone.

Chapter Text

The world hadn't seen an angel's wrath in a long time, not like this. Not since the Fall. Not since Sodom. Not since Heaven cracked the sky like thunder under a whip

But now—he burns. It began with a scream. Not his. A child's, a little girl, crying as men in stolen uniforms dragged her father away. 

Guns pointed. Words shouted. A family accused. A mistake. A lie. A trigger pulled and Castiel saw it.

He arrived in a heartbeat. Too late for the bullet. Not too late for judgment. The father fell and never woke up again.

The girl screamed and then—the sun vanished. The sky blackened—not with clouds, but wings. A reaper on the edge of the Veil dropped her scroll.

Because he came. Wings spread from horizon to horizon, dark as mourning cloth, veined with white-hot grace. His coat tore at the seams from the sheer pressure of it.

He didn't raise his voice, he didn't need to, "You hurt her", he said and the men froze, their rifles jammed in their hands, their bones trembled beneath their flesh.

Cas walked toward them—his boots not touching ground. Grass withered beneath him, the wind ran.

"You killed her father. You made her cry", he said, "You took a soul that didn't deserve to be taken", he said.

His eyes were not glowing, they were blinding, "You will answer", he roared and the sky answered with him.

Lightning fell—not jagged, not random. Purposeful. Divine. It did not strike the men dead. It left them broken.

Paralyzed. Marked. Unable to speak for the rest of their lives. Their names would never be remembered.

Castiel turned to the child and she stared up at him, not afraid, he knelt glowing with warmth now, his anger wasn't still over, it was simmering, yet he controlled himself for the girl.

Her sobs eased, she touched his face, he leaned into her fingers, "I'm sorry I wasn't faster," he whispered.

And the grass began to regrow, from the Veil, the reaper could barely breathe, she knew he could see her.

This was not the angel who saved souls quietly in parks. This was the angel who had stood against everything else for one man. This was the sword of the Lord.

And then— A voice behind her. The voice behind her, "Cas", the voice said and it was just a single word and not too loud even.

Dean.

The reaper turned. She hadn't even seen him arrive. But he was already walking toward Cas, determined, trembling.

"Cas", Dean said again, voice softer this time, "Hey", he said and the angel didn't move. The wind screamed around him.

Dean stepped closer, the air warped, not hurting him but embracing him, the reaper could see Cas relax slowly from the way his shoulders were dropping.

"Look at me," Dean said, "Look at me, Cas", he said again, not afraid the invisible wings trembled in the shadows.

The lightning paused, Cas turned and his eyes—full of holy fire, and grief, and pain—met Dean's and that was enough.

Because Dean didn't flinch. He walked up, and touched Castiel's arm, and said:

"You're not just fury. You're the reason flowers bloom. You're the reason that girl can smile again. Don't burn the world that still needs you", he said.

And Cas— Cas breathed in and the fire went out, just like that, the wings folded in, the sky cleared.

The men still wept, unable to speak, unable to understand why they still lived, Dean never looked at them.

He kept his eyes on Cas, steady and soft, "You done?" he asked gently and Cas nodded, Dean said nothing more.

Just walked beside him, away from the broken field. And in the Veil, the reaper— She knelt. And whispered his name.

"Castiel."

Not as a prayer. As a hope. As a warning. As the only force she had ever seen that could burn down the world... and choose not to.

She whispered again:

"He is wrath. He is grace. And he walks the Earth with mercy in one hand... and a sword in the other."

And sometimes—only one man could stop the sword, she thought and left taking that man's soul with her.

The drive back was silent, Dean kept glancing sideways—not because he feared Cas. But because he didn't know how to breathe yet.

He'd seen a lot of power. Gods. Leviathans. Death. But nothing—nothing—like what Cas had become today.

And it wasn't the lightning. It wasn't the wings that blotted out the sky. It was that he'd almost lost him to it.

He gripped the wheel tighter. Cas sat perfectly still, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. No grief. No anger. No sign of struggle.

And that's what scared Dean the most. Back at the bunker, Cas stepped out first. The lights flickered as he passed. The air was heavy.

He was still angry, Sam met them at the map table, "Is it done?", he asked and Dean didn't answer.

Cas said quietly, "The girl is safe", he simply said and Sam gave a nod, "And the others?", he asked.

Cas didn't respond, Dean dropped his keys on the table with a loud clatter, "I need a minute," he muttered, and walked out.

Cas watched him go, then turned to leave too. It was hours before Dean came to find him, the war room was empty except for Cas, sitting at the edge of the map table, hands folded, still as a cathedral statue.

Dean stood in the doorway, "I didn't know," he said, "I mean—I knew you had juice. But that...", he trailed off.

Cas didn't look at him, "I lost control," he said flatly, Dean stepped closer, "No. You didn't", he said barely a whisper.

Cas looked up, finally and Dean met his eyes, "You chose to stop. That's the scary part", he said and Cas blinked, confused.

Dean exhaled hard, "You could've ended those guys. Unmade them like that Grigori. You could've—hell, you could burn down a continent if you were pissed enough", he said.

Cas said nothing and Dean stepped closer, "But you didn't. You stopped. Because I asked", he said and there was awe in his voice.

And something else. Fear? No. Love.

A deeper, heavier kind, the kind that came from knowing someone could level the world and still turned to you when it mattered.

Dean shook his head, "You're not just some grunt angel anymore, Cas. You're... something else now", he said.

Cas tilted his head, "Would you prefer I stopped?", he asked and Dean looked at him for a long time.

Then: "No," he whispered, "Just... don't ever go without me again", he asked for a promise and Cas nodded slowly.

"I won't", he promised and Dean smiled and kissed him — everything safe for now... but elsewhere, in a place no prayers reached anymore—

Chuck watched.

He sat in the darkened writing room, monitors glowing, books floating mid-air, pages fluttering like frightened birds.

He had watched it all. The wings. The storm. The child. And then—Dean. Stopping him. Chuck leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowed.

"That's not right," he muttered, "That's not what I wrote", he told himself and scrolled back through a heavenly script.

No mention of that power. No entry for that choice. No line about Castiel holding back divine annihilation because of a look from Dean Winchester.

He stood up. Pages burst into flame mid-air. He stormed across the empty space. "He's just a Seraph," Chuck hissed, "Just a soldier. He's not supposed to decide", he said.

And yet— He had.

Castiel had said "no" to Death.
Had said "enough" to a Grigori.
Had said "yes" to humanity.
And worst of all—

He had listened to Dean over God.

Chuck slammed a hand on the glass table and somewhere, beneath the floorboards of the universe, the cage trembled.

He's slipping. He's becoming something I didn't plan. He stared into the blank void before him. Then spoke low, bitter, sharp:

"If I can't control the angel... Maybe it's time to remind the world who wrote it", he said and the lights went out.

Chapter Text

It began with whispers. The kind that made the air cold. The kind that made reapers twitch. The kind that made Castiel stop mid-step and listen.

The whispers made him angry and broke him apart at the same time, he wasn't walking on this Earth for this.

Children falling and breaking bones like glass, healthy people collapsing in their kitchens, their lungs filled with water they'd never breathed.

Mothers crying over graves that shouldn't exist and Cas—Cas, who had walked the Earth for years healing quietly—was never late.

But now, he was, he was late like something was holding him back, like something was holding back the prayers.

Because something darker had crept into the world. Something deliberate. Something powerful too.

Dean slammed his hand against the map table, "This isn't natural. And don't give me that 'God works in mysterious ways' crap", he said and Cas narrowed his eyes for a second before trying to listen.

Sam looked grim. Jack looked... hollow and Cas—Cas stood perfectly still, head tilted to the side, listening to the world breathe.

"No," Cas finally said, "This isn't natural", he said not getting the prayers as he used to, he couldn't even hear the words, everything he heard was late, he knew that now.

Dean turned to him, "Then what is it?", he asked and the answer dawned on Cas, his jaw clenched, "It's Him", he said.

The four left following Cas and Jack's guidance, they felt the power of Him and they reached their destination, this was it.

The four of them stood before a gate not meant for men. Heaven's bones twisted overhead. The stars turned black. The sky held its breath.

Chuck stood at the center. Smiling. Evilly, "Finally," he said, "Took you long enough", he said and Cas stepped forward. His trench coat dragged like judgment.

Dean held Cas's arm lightly. Not restraining. Grounding. After seeing Cas' wrath, him against God isn't something this World can handle.

Chuck shrugged, "You've been meddling too long, Castiel. Saving people who should've died. Healing things I broke for a reason", he said and Cas' eye flared up for a second before Dean squeezed his arm calming him down.

Sam's voice cracked, "You've been hurting innocents", he said, "I've been correcting the story!", Chuck snapped, "You think it ends with you all alive and happy?", he asked.

"There is nothing to correct, this is not a story, this is people's lives", Jack said, the God prodigy and only Cas knew that.

Jack's hands curled into fists. His eyes burned faintly. Cas said nothing. But the wind began to circle him.

"Come on, Cas," Chuck mocked, "You going to smite me? Kill God? Please", he mocked, but little did he know Cas was preparing for this moment.

Dean tensed. He could feel it—grace tightening like a bowstring. Cas was glowing softly, his eyes unfocused, his wings beginning to spread.

"Cas—hey," Dean said gently, "Don't. You're better than him. And he can snap his fingers and erase us", he muttered the last part.

And Cas—he heard Dean. He always did. He took a breath. The glow dimmed slightly. Chuck scoffed, "Still his little pet, huh?", he said and he didn't like that.

Then— Chuck flicked his hand. Dean collapsed. No scream. No sound. Just—his hand clutched at his chest, and blood ran from his nose.

Cas caught him before he hit the ground, Dean's pulse was faint, Cas pressed his forehead to Dean's, "No. No", he muttered.

A single whisper, desperate: "Please, stay", he said trying to heal against Chuck's powers and it kept the slow pulse steady, but he knew that wouldn't be enough.

Dean's lips moved. One word, "Cas—", he muttered and that was it, Cas stood. No, he rose. No longer man-shaped. No longer bound by Heaven's order.

His wings spread across the horizon. His eyes burned starlight and silence. His voice—when it came—shattered the stars.

"You touched him, you hurt him", he said and the world screamed with his heart. Mountains cracked in the distance.

The sky split open, not with lightning—but with light, "You harmed what I love. You were never God, but now you don't deserve the power even", he said.

Chuck tried to step back, but the air was too heavy. The judgment too real. Even he was scared for the first time.

Cas stepped forward, and the earth withered beneath his feet, and then bloomed anew behind him.

"You have no story anymore. No claim. No right", he said and Chuck raised a hand. Tried to speak.

Cas raised both. And Heaven roared. Wings became fire. His grace poured outward—white, gold, blue. The colors of creation itself.

Chuck's vessel burned. His scream was not human. It was authorial. It was arrogant. It was ended.

The moment Cas's grace touched him, the illusion of godhood shattered. Chuck collapsed, powerless, coughing smoke and stars.

His power rose like ash.  And Cas—kind, wrathful, grieving Cas—reached into that ash, and gathered it. The power glowed in his hand, he saw Jack looking at him.

He turned to Jack, and also saw Dean stirr, breathing again, cradled in Sam's arms. Cas walked to Jack, wings folding in, the fire fading—but not gone.

"You," Cas said softly, voice still ringing with heaven, "You who love without command. Who give without demand. Take it", he said.

"I hope you are ready", he said and Jack nodded and he placed the power—all of it—in Jack's chest.

The boy gasped and the universe shifted. The air grew still. Birdsong returned to distant trees. The veil stopped bleeding.

And the children—those who had been broken, sick, twisted by divine cruelty—began to heal. Across the world, pain eased.

Hope returned. Maybe it was Jack, maybe it was Cas but everything was returning to normal, it was returning to as it should be.

Jack gave a nod to them and vanished, he had a lot of work to do, Cas would join him but not today.

Dean stood, weak but breathing, his eyes wet, watching Cas lower his wings, "You," Dean said, voice breaking, "You—you killed God", he said not knowing how to feel.

Cas shook his head, "No," he said, "I freed the world from Him", he said stepping towards Dean not to hurt him.

Dean stepped closer, rested his hand on Cas's chest, "You almost burned it all down", he said breathing softly.

Cas finally smiled. Just a little, "You brought me back," he whispered, "You always do", he said and the two kissed and that was enough for them, being with each other in each other's arms.

Chapter Text

The road curved around the hills like a forgotten thought, gravel crunched under the Impala's tires as Dean drove in silence, sunlight spilling across the hood.

This was their usual, but some part of it was unusual, this time it wasn't demon help, it was far from that.

Cas sat beside him, gaze fixed out the window. Still. Serene. Sam had gone ahead to a library in Topeka, chasing lore.

But Dean had steered them somewhere else. A name on an old map. A place Dean had circled months ago.

Because once upon a time, this town was dying. No jobs. No crops. No laughter. A town so swallowed by despair that even the ghosts had stopped bothering.

Dean didn't say much as they crossed the rusted welcome sign: Welcome to Hallead Ridge. Population: ... fading.

But Cas turned his head slowly, his expression shifting, Dean glanced sideways, "You okay?", he asked always noting Cas' expressions nowadays especially.

Cas didn't answer, he simply reached out of the window, fingers brushing the air like a pianist testing invisible keys.

And the world responded, Dean slowed down as Cas worked with the air, Dean didn't question Cas' works.

A breeze stirred. Soft and golden. The trees lining the entrance, brittle and colorless just moments ago, began to rustle with green. One by one, like dominoes waking up from sleep, buds bloomed.

Dean parked the car and they stepped out into the quiet, Cas walked slowly in front of the car while Dean waited, he didn't move, he was watching.

And then the birds began to sing. Low at first. Then louder. Joyful. Like someone had lifted a veil from the sky and given them permission to feel again.

Cas's boots touched the cracked pavement—and it glowed. Not literally, actually literally for Dean, he was able to see all Cas' miracles ever since they got together, on Dean's request of course.

But in that invisible way light does when it kisses water at sunrise, it was beautiful, Dean was in awe once again.

A man working in a nearby garage looked up, startled, his oil-stained face was stunned. Then confused. Then—grateful. He didn't know why, but something inside him eased.

Children began emerging from houses, laughing, hugging and playing with each other, in maybe years.

Dogs barked—not aggressive, just excited. Old shutters creaked open as sunlight danced through windows that hadn't been cleaned in months.

Cas took another step, a daisy bloomed in a sidewalk crack, Dean watched it all in awe but silence.

A florist leaned out her door, confused to find blossoms on vines she thought were long dead. She gasped. Then she smiled.

"Dean", Cas murmured, eyes soft, "this place... remembers", he said, and of course it does, Cas was bringing back life to the land which remembered.

Dean swallowed hard, "Remembers what?", he whispered softly walking towards his love and Cas turned to him. 

"What it's like to feel alive", he said and Dean, for the thousandth time in his life, wanted to drop to his knees.

He didn't. Instead, he reached for Cas's hand. Laced their fingers together and smiled. They walked through the center of town like a breeze and a heartbeat.

People began to gather—no announcement, no fanfare. Just... drawn. Toward something that felt right.

A child held out a paper airplane and Cas took it gently, smiled, and let it fly. The wind caught it like a blessing.

Dean looked around, a town that had once smelled like rust and regret now smelled of rain and warmth and green things growing.

"You ever think maybe you're more than just Heaven's soldier?", Dean asked softly and Cas tilted his head questioning.

"You bring things back", Dean said, "Not just people. Not just me. Everything. The soil. The sky. The damn air", he explained.

Cas blinked, "I don't mean to", he said innocently, "Yeah," Dean said, "That's what makes it real", he said proudly.

They stood at the heart of the square now. All around them, people smiled. Some crying quietly. Some hugging each other like they had just remembered joy was real.

And all of them—without knowing why—felt like they had been seen. Like something divine had passed through and paused, just long enough to care.

Cas watched a little girl tie a ribbon around a tree branch, she whispered something up to the sky, and Cas smiled gently.

"What'd she say?" Dean asked, Cas looked at him, "She said 'Thank you for fixing the air'", he said and Dean wiped at his eyes, fast and angry, "Damn allergies", he said.

Cas said nothing but smiled and just stood there. In the sunlight. In a town that was no longer sick. No longer dead. No longer forgotten.

And Dean knew: This wasn't just Cas's grace at work. It was his love. His quiet, relentless love for the world.

Because even when the world broke him— He still healed it. But suddenly he turned his head, "Dean something is wrong, call Sam", he said and started walking back to the impala.

Dean followed him and called Sam and then they got to know what was wrong, the call came late.

A small town. A child. Brutality. Dean knew the kind of evil people were capable of. But this... this was different.

By the time they arrived, the crime scene had already been cleared. Yellow tape fluttered in the wind like warning flags. The house was quiet. Too quiet. As if even the walls had gone still out of grief.

Cas didn't speak, he stood in the doorway, unmoving, he didn't even move inside, he knew he was late and what has happened.

His grace was coiled tight beneath his skin, humming like a storm trapped in glass, Dean stepped closer, but something in the air stopped him.

Cold. Not winter. Not death. Judgment, "Cas," Sam said softly, "What are you—", he asked feeling the difference in the air.

But Cas moved, he vanished from the room in the blink of an eye, Dean had seen him fly before, had watched him tear through monsters and demons.

But this time? He didn't move like an angel. He moved like vengeance.

The man was hiding in an old church basement. Thinking the law wouldn't find him. That no one would.

He was wrong. The door blew inward with a force that cracked the stone walls. Candles shattered. Crosses twisted. And in the ruin stood Castiel.

His coat once beige was ash-dark. His eyes—bright blue and burning. The man tried to run. He didn't make it to the steps.

Cas didn't raise a hand. He didn't need to. The man was yanked upward and pinned against the crumbling brick, choking, gasping, his spine rattling under the pressure of invisible fury.

"You hurt a child," Cas said, voice not raised—but echoing with power no human nor celestial being could fathom.

"You took her light. Her laughter. Her life", he said and the man gurgled, "Your sins are not unknown," Cas continued. 

"They are carved into your soul", he said and his grace flared, Dean and Sam arrived seconds later—just in time to see the man's eyes fill with terror as his bones began to crack. One by one. Not fast. Not merciful.

Dean froze. His knees buckled. Because he could feel it. The wrath of Heaven. The judgment of something not just righteous—but ancient. A being older than time, delivering the kind of justice the world feared.

"Cas," Dean whispered, breath stolen, "Cas, stop—", he tried completing but Sam stopped him, not this time.

Cas didn't. Not until the man stopped screaming. Not until his vessel—his evil—was nothing more than dust scattered across stone.

Then... silence and Castiel... collapsed to his knees. Not out of exhaustion. But out of grief. He turned. And in his arms now—no one had seen it happen—was a girl.

Small, young. Hair tangled. Blood on her dress. But her eyes were wide and confused, the girl who was dead in the room, the girl who was a ghost.

She was already gone. Dean knew that. But Cas... Cas held her like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.

"Shhh," he whispered to her, smoothing her hair, "I've got you now", he whispered, Dean could see Cas' anger still radiating off of him but he was in control.

The girl clutched his coat, "I want my mom," she whispered, voice hollow, "I can't find her...", she said and Dean's heart cracked.

Cas kissed her forehead gently, "You will," he promised, "She's waiting for you. I'll take her to you", he said.

And then—grace bloomed. Not bright. Not showy. Just... warm. Like a lullaby in light. A golden doorway appeared behind them. Open. Safe.

Cas stood, still holding her, and walked toward it, "Are you an angel?", the girl asked softly and Cas smiled, "Something like that", he said.

"Will it hurt?", she asked, "No," he said, voice like the hush of wings, "Not anymore", he said and he stepped through the threshold, and the girl vanished into Heaven.

Peaceful. Whole. Loved. When Cas returned, he was quiet. His shoulders heavy. His eyes dull with sorrow.

Dean met him halfway, he didn't say anything, he just pulled Cas into his arms and held on like he'd fall without him.

"You're not supposed to carry all of it alone," Dean whispered, Cas nodded against his shoulder, "I know. But someone should", he said.

And Dean broke, tears spilled freely, soaking into the collar of Cas's coat, "You saved her", he said remembering all the horrible things he had seen and no one being there to guide the souls and him.

"I tried", Cas muttered softly, "No," Dean said firmly, "You did. You saved her soul. You gave her peace. You did what no one else could", he comforted.

Cas didn't reply, but the tears that slipped from his eyes weren't just grief. They were love. Because even in the darkest places, Castiel still found a way to bring light.

Chapter Text

P.S; This is between when Cas took the girl in previous chapter to heaven and when he returned back to Dean.

Heaven had seen arrivals before. Souls came with memories, with regrets, with longing. Sometimes they arrived quietly. Sometimes they wept. Sometimes they didn't understand they had died.

But this time was different. The moment Castiel stepped through the veil with the little girl in his arms, Heaven... paused.

The fields stilled. The rivers hushed. The clouds softened into silence. Angels on patrol stopped mid-flight. Older souls—parents, soldiers, musicians, wanderers—lifted their heads. Because something sacred had just passed by.

The child clutched Castiel's collar, her tear-streaked face buried against his chest. He carried her like the most precious thing ever born. And in that moment—she was.

He didn't take her to a generic room. Not to a meadow, or a sunny porch, or a swing set memory cobbled from a child's joy.

No. He built her Heaven by hand. He knelt beside a lake that mirrored the stars. He whispered her mother's name. And Heaven moved.

Doors that hadn't opened in decades clicked open with warmth. A woman came running across the silver grass, arms open, heart breaking wide. 

The girl who was waiting for Cas to lead her, squealed in shock and joy, launching from Castiel's arms and into her mother's.

"I told you I'd find her," Cas said softly, the mother looked at him, sobbing, eyes wide, "You're the angel", she said in awe.

Cas didn't respond, he just smiled—and turned to go. But then— Every soul nearby turned. Some bowed. Some whispered his name.

Because they saw it now. Not just the trench coat. Not just the grace. They saw him.

The angel who remembered names. The one who stood between monsters and children. The one who punished evil without hesitation—and still mourned every soul he couldn't save.

Heaven shone a little brighter that day. Not with fire for once, but with kindness. A quiet, eternal kind.

And though Castiel walked away in silence, every petal, every note of music, every breeze in the branches—whispered the same thing:

He carried her. And we are changed. Back on Earth, later the next night, Dean stared at the sky that night. It was darker than usual. The stars felt farther, but there was a peace in him he couldn't explain.

Then the wind shifted. It smelled like ozone and wildflowers. Dean closed his eyes. Somewhere, up there—his angel had done something holy.

And somewhere, Heaven remembered what love looked like. This kept on happening for years, even after destiel got married and it was nice for the Winchesters but Dean noted Cas going away sometimes.

It didn't bother him, he knew Cas inside out, but he was worried for Cas for sure, he knows how Cas spends himself when it came to healing and he knew Cas was healing.

It was a sleepy town at the edge of nowhere. The kind Dean never remembered passing through until he had to. A flat tire. A busted signal. One bar of reception and not a soul on the road for miles.

Sam had gone off to get help, Cas had wandered and Dean... followed, this time, he wasn't sure why.

Cas had said nothing, just turned his head toward a narrow path between the trees and began to walk, like he heard something Dean couldn't.

Dean stuffed his hands in his pockets and muttered something about not liking the woods, but he went anyway.

They came to a clearing, soft with moss and the kind of sunlight that didn't cast shadows. At the center was a single swing set, rusted at the hinges, creaking faintly in a wind Dean couldn't feel.

And sitting there— A little boy. Maybe five. Dark curls. Bare feet. A stuffed bunny tucked under one arm.

Dean slowed, "Cas..." he murmured, "What is this?", he asked, he was scared after last time, he was too vulnerable for this.

Cas raised a hand, quieting him. His eyes were on him. The little boy looked up and smiled, "Hi," he whispered, swinging gently though his feet didn't reach the ground.

"Hello," Cas said gently, "Are you waiting for someone?", he asked, "My mom," he said, "But I think she forgot", he said.

Dean's chest tightened and Cas walked slowly, kneeling beside the swing, "She didn't forget," he said softly, "She's just... not here yet", he tried explaining without hurting him.

The boy looked down, "I was sick. I remember the lights. And then nothing", he said and Dean froze, his jaw clenched.

The boy's brow furrowed, "Am I in trouble?", he asked slowly starting to get agitated and Cas shook his head.

"No. You're very brave", he said and he blinked, "But I didn't say goodbye", he said and for once Cas' voice constricted.

Cas reached out, his fingers brushed his, and a faint glow passed between them—warm and calm, like the hush of a lullaby.

"You already did," he said, "She just didn't hear it with her ears. But she felt it in her heart. She'll remember", he said.

The boy's bottom lip trembled, "But what if she forgets me?", he asked and Cas leaned in, voice a thread of light.

"She won't," he said, "Because I will remember you. I carry your name. I carry your laugh. I carry the way you tied your bunny's ears in knots", he said and he giggled at that, as if surprised he noticed.

Dean didn't move, he couldn't. Because in that moment, he understood. Not just the power. The purpose.

Cas wasn't an angel of fire and vengeance, he was the angel who knelt in the dirt, held a scared child's hand, and made the end feel like a beginning.

The swing began to lift. The light around the boy shimmered, brighter now. A door—one made of stars and golden threads—opened in the clearing like a sunrise being born.

The boy looked at Cas, "Will I see you again?", he asked and Cas nodded, "I'll be wherever you need me", he promised.

He leaned forward and kissed his cheek, then he ran. The light folded. The air stilled. Cas stood slowly.

Dean was crying and didn't even know when it had started, "He... he didn't even know he was dead," he rasped.

Cas looked at him and Dean had never seen eyes like that. Not just full of grace. Full of love. A kind of quiet, patient love that hurt to look at.

"He didn't need to," Cas said. "He just needed to feel safe", he said and Dean stepped forward, slowly, like the clearing might shatter if he moved too fast.

And he reached out, cradling Cas's face in both hands, "You do that," Dean whispered, "You make people feel safe", he said.

Cas blinked, "Even you?", he asked, his human, his love, his Dean and Dean nodded, "Especially me", he said and their foreheads met.

And somewhere far off, a mother awoke from a dream of rabbit ears tied in knots—and smiled through her tears.

Chapter Text

It was hours later, the sky had melted into that soft bruised color between dusk and dark, Sam had returned with a tow truck, the Impala was safely in the shop, and the only place open in the whole town was a half-ruined lodge nestled beside a forest Dean didn't trust.

But Cas was there and that made all the difference, they sat outside now, near the embers of a fire that crackled softly. 

Sam had gone to bed, muttering something about early repairs and cold coffee, Dean hadn't moved, Cas hadn't either.

Dean stared at the fire. Not drinking. Not talking. Just... holding something in his chest like it might break if he spoke too loud.

Dean closed his eyes, "I've seen a lot of endings, Cas," he said softly, "Too many. And most of them? They weren't fair. They were hard. Ugly. Alone", he said his voice shaking.

He exhaled through his nose, "But you... you made it soft. You made it kind", he said his voice softening.

He turned to look at him now, really look, "And I just—" his voice cracked, "I've spent so long thinking life was about fighting. Winning. Surviving. But you—you walk into pain and sit with it like it's holy. You touch people and they stop hurting", he said and there was so much pride in his voice.

Cas didn't speak, Dean laughed, but it was thin, "And here I was, all these years, treating you like you were just part of the gear. Like one more weapon in the arsenal. Never stopping to think that maybe... maybe you were the reason we didn't all fall apart", he said.

He leaned forward, eyes glinting with wetness he didn't bother to hide anymore, "You've been carrying everything. Everyone. And I didn't see it. Not really. Not until that little girl looked at you like you were the sky opening up", he said this time awe mixing in his voice with pride.

Cas's voice was soft, "You always saw me, Dean", he said gratefully and Dean shook his head, "Not like that. Not like I should've. I saw a soldier. A blade. A damn get-out-of-jail card. Yes apart from our hunts I saw you, my husband, my love, but today? I saw you. The you who remembers names. Who carries stories. Who holds kids when they're scared and gives them light to run toward", he said.

Cas said nothing, so Dean did the only thing he could, he reached out, took Cas's hand, and held it like a lifeline.

"You're tired, aren't you?", he whispered knowing his husband as much as his husband knew him, and Cas didn't answer but he didn't need to, because the answer was in the way his fingers tightened. 

In the slight tremble he never let anyone see, in the silence that had nothing to do with distance—and everything to do with burden.

Dean pulled him closer, cradled Cas's head to his shoulder, let the silence return—but this time, not from loss.

From comfort, "You're not alone anymore," Dean whispered into his hair, "You don't have to carry them all", he said.

Cas's voice was a ghost, "But if I don't—", he started, "You'll break," Dean interrupted, "And I can't lose you. Not again. So let me carry you a little, yeah?", he said.

And Cas—quietly, slowly—nodded. Later that night, long after the fire went cold and the moon curled low in the sky, Dean whispered again:

"I see you now, Cas", he said and from where he lay, pressed against the heartbeat that steadied his own—

Cas smiled, the next morning they woke up and everything was silent, "It's too quiet", Dean said as the two walked into the kitchen.

"This is normal Dean", Sam said looking up from his paper and Dean rolled his eyes and back hugged Cas who made him coffee.

He kisses his love's nape and Cas smiled and handed him the coffee, "Thanks angel", he said kissing Cas' temple.

Dean sat opposite to Sam as Cas stood leaning on the counter, smiling, but suddenly his smile dropped.

"What's wrong Cas?", Sam asked noticing his face drop and Dean looked at him, "A soul, he's alone, I need to go", Cas said and went to fly away, but Dean stopped him.

"Woah, woah, we are coming too", he said and Cas looked at the two brothers, their determination in eyes and sighed nodding.

The old farmhouse sat quietly under a sky heavy with gray clouds, the wind whispering through the cracked window panes. Inside, an elderly man lay in bed—his breath shallow, his eyes tired but peaceful.

Dean and Sam stood by the doorway, their faces etched with concern and something softer—an almost sacred reverence for what was about to happen.

Cas knelt beside the bed, his usual trench coat replaced by something softer, lighter—like he was preparing for a delicate task. 

The soft glow of his grace shimmered faintly around his hands as he reached out to the old man., the man's eyes fluttered open, catching sight of Cas, and a faint smile touched his lips—a recognition, a relief.

"Peace," Cas whispered, voice steady but gentle, "I'm here with you", he said and Dean swallowed hard, watching as Cas placed a cool, luminous hand on the man's forehead. 

The lines of pain that had carved the man's face began to smooth, his breathing slowing—not from fear, but from surrender to something kinder.

Sam's eyes glistened, "Is he... ready?" he asked softly, Cas nodded without looking away, "He is. He's carried so much. The fight is over", he said softly.

The old man's hand twitched, reaching out weakly to clasp Cas's fingers, "Thank you," he breathed, voice barely audible but full of gratitude.

Cas smiled, a quiet sadness in his eyes, "You're not alone. You're going home", he said and Dean felt a lump rise in his throat. He'd seen Cas heal, fight, and rage—but this was different. This was mercy in its purest form.

The room grew still, the only sound the soft wind outside and the steady pulse of a heart slowing.

Cas closed his eyes briefly, drawing grace from somewhere deep inside. Then, with a final gentle touch, the man's chest rose and fell once more—and then stilled.

A soft light surrounded the man's face, warm and golden, as if the sun itself had come to cradle his soul.

Dean stepped forward, voice breaking, "He's... peaceful", he said softly and Sam nodded, wiping a tear, "That's a gift. Cas gave him that", he whispered.

Cas rose, turning to face the brothers, "Not a gift I give lightly," he said quietly, "To ease pain, to end suffering, to welcome the soul home—that is the mercy that sometimes must be done", he explained.

Dean looked at Cas, the weight of the moment settling deep inside him, "You... you make the hard things beautiful", he said.

Cas's eyes softened, and he placed a steady hand on Dean's shoulder, "Because every soul deserves peace, Dean. Even when the world is cruel", he said and slightly leaned on him, the memories were getting harder, once again, this was his 1200+ memory.

Dean held him softly as they looked at the man, the three of them stood in silence for a long moment—guardians of a moment between life and what lies beyond.

Outside, the clouds parted just enough for a single beam of light to fall on the old farmhouse, gentle and warm.

And in that light, hope lived.

Chapter Text

It didn't happen all at once. The world didn't collapse when Castiel died. It just... dimmed. Flowers still bloomed, but their colors weren't as rich. 

Rain still fell, but the sound didn't soothe. Children still laughed, but something in it lacked its usual lilt—like joy itself had forgotten its melody.

Dean noticed it first in the skies, they weren't wrong, exactly, but the blues were duller. The sunsets brief, as if even the sun missed him and didn't want to linger.

The town they'd once visited—the one Cas had accidentally healed with his presence—wasn't dead, but the blossoms on the trees stopped reaching quite so high. The laughter in the park was quieter. The air heavier.

A woman at the post office told Sam her joints had started aching again, the little girl who used to leave drawings tied to lampposts stopped coming outside, no one mentioned why.

They all just felt it, like a gentle god had left and Dean—Dean tried. He drove the Impala. He sharpened blades. He cooked too much. 

He broke too often. At night, he would sometimes walk the backroads alone, listening for wings that wouldn't come.

He couldn't, he sometimes drank too much, hoping for death, but maybe all the years of Cas' healing made him wake up the next day.

And the worst part? No one blamed Cas, he died saving them all, he died loving, he died in grace and choice and fury and devotion.

But the world mourned him like it had lost a part of its rhythm. Like the beat between heart and hope had gone missing.

Dean talked to Sam less. He couldn't say the name. Not out loud. He kept the coat, folded carefully on the back of Cas's old chair. 

Kept the mug Cas had claimed in the bunker kitchen, even though the rim had a chip. He didn't speak to it, but he sat beside it. Often.

The light in Dean dimmed. Slowly. Quietly. Until one day... It began to return, it started with something small.

A wildflower bloomed in the middle of the bunker's concrete path. It wasn't planted. It shouldn't have survived.

Dean noticed it, paused, and tilted his head, his heart fluttering with recognition of the grace, two days later, a woman from that same small town—Hallead Ridge—called the bunker hotline, voice shaking.

"I—I don't know who to tell, but... the orchard? The one that stopped blooming years ago? It's flowering again. Full bloom. All at once", she said.

Sam wrote it down but said nothing, then came the river, a dried creek bed near Lebanon suddenly flooded with clear water. No rain had fallen. No pipes had burst. But fish swam upstream like they'd been waiting.

And then— A hospital in Kansas reported a spontaneous recovery, a woman on her last breath opened her eyes and whispered, "The angel said I wasn't done", she said.

Another girl drew a picture of a man in a trench coat with wings made of gold and wrote:
"He said he missed us."

Dean didn't believe it. Couldn't. He knew it was true, his soul recognized, but he didn't want to grow expectation.

Until one morning, he walked into the kitchen, sunlight pooled on the floor exactly where Cas used to stand making tea.

And beside the mug with the chipped rim... was a daisy. Dean stood frozen, then he sat, he held the flower in his hand, trembling.

Sam found him there an hour later, staring at it like it might vanish, "Dean," Sam said softly. "You okay?", he asked.

Dean wiped his eyes, nodded, and handed Sam the drawing a little girl had mailed in, the one with the golden-winged angel smiling in a field.

Sam stared at it for a long moment, breath catching in his chest, "Do you think...?" he asked stopping, hope bleeding into fear.

Dean looked up and for the first time in months—he smiled. A real one, "Yeah," he whispered, tears shining like grace, "He's back", he said.

Sam blinked, "Here?", he asked and Dean shook his head, "No... not here", he said, he would know if Cas was on Earth.

He pressed the daisy gently into a book Cas had once read, then looked out the window at the returning light.

"He's where he was always supposed to be," Dean said, "Heaven. But he's not only up there anymore, Sammy", he said.

Sam frowned, confused, Dean smiled again—sad and whole, "His grace, a part of his grace in the air now. The wind. The warmth. He's... everywhere", he said feeling a breeze.

They stood in silence and outside, the world bloomed a little brighter, because love like Cas's doesn't stay buried.

It becomes everything good that follows.

~ 2 years later ~

It happened on a quiet afternoon. There was no hunt. No final monster. No apocalyptic blaze of glory.

Just Dean Winchester in the bunker's library, sunlight slanting through the blinds, a half-read book resting in his lap. He'd been dreaming again. Of warm hands. Blue eyes. Of laughter in Heaven.

And when he opened his eyes, the bunker was... still. Not dead. Not dark. Just done. He felt it first in his chest. Not pain. Not fear. Just an understanding. A call that wasn't loud—but one he could never ignore.

His fingers slipped from the pages and the world exhaled. When Dean opened his eyes again, he was standing in the Roadhouse.

But not that Roadhouse. This one had no scars. No burned wood. No broken glass. It looked like it belonged in a photograph of better days—old jukebox humming low, beer glinting gold in the sunlight, the scent of cinnamon and fresh leather in the air.

And at the far end of the room, backlit by golden light, stood him. Cas. Same trench coat. Same tie. Same tilt of the head when Dean gasped and didn't know how to move.

But the eyes? They weren't tired anymore. They were whole. Dean took one breath. One step. Then another.

And Cas—Cas smiled. No hesitation. No confusion. Just joy. Unmistakable. Unbreakable. Dean crossed the space in five heartbeats and stopped just in front of him.

He opened his mouth. Closed it and Cas, gentle as the wind, "You took your time", he said and Dean choked on a laugh. 

"You always were the patient one", he said tears running down his face, "I had help," Cas said softly, "Jack, the others. They built something here. But I... I kept a door open", he said.

Dean looked around. Every soul Cas had healed. Every name he remembered. They were here. Laughing. Whole. Safe.

Dean blinked hard, "This is...", he started in awe, "Heaven," Cas said, "But not the one you left. We changed it", he said wrapping his arms around Dean's waist.

Dean looked back at him, Cas stepped closer, "And it's been waiting for you", he said and Dean touched his hand.

Then his cheek and Cas leaned into it like it was sunlight, "I thought I'd never see you again," Dean whispered. 

"I thought... the way you died, the way you saved everyone—I figured the price would be forever", he said,

Cas leaned forward, forehead brushing Dean's, "There was no price," he murmured, "There was only love", he said.

Dean closed his eyes and the years fell away. The grief, the silence, the aching spaces in his chest. All of it melted beneath Cas's touch, his presence, his grace, but it wasn't burning anymore.

It was light, "You changed everything," Dean whispered, "You gave me the reason to," Cas replied.

Their lips met—slow, reverent. Not just reunion. Return. The kiss tasted like home. Like everything lost had found its way back.

Chapter Text

Later, they sat on the porch of a farmhouse that hadn't existed a minute ago. But now it did. Because Cas remembered Dean had once said, "Maybe someday, I'll just fix cars in peace", he said.

So Heaven gave them a garage, the sky overhead was every sunset they never got to share. Dean leaned against Cas's shoulder, beer in hand, Cas held his other hand, thumb brushing the scar on his palm.

"You think Sam's okay?" Dean asked quietly, Cas smiled, "He has his family, his peace, his purpose, he always did", he said.

Dean nodded, "Think he'll come here?", he asked and Cas tilted his head, "When he's ready the door's open for him too", he said.

"I am watching over him, love, don't worry, I will protect him", Cas said and Dean smiled and cuddled into Cas who smiled and kissed his head.

Silence stretched, but it wasn't lonely, it was the kind Dean had never known in life, whole, he loved this silence, and will love it as long as Cas is with him.

"I missed you," Dean said, barely louder than breath, although he had told this quite a few times, "I never left you," Cas replied, looking at the horizon.

Dean looked too and in the field beyond, flowers bloomed again. Wild and bright, unending, because the world Dean left behind was healing again.

Cas was still its quiet guardian, but now? Now Dean was home, heaven had mornings and nights too, so Dean loved it cause night was a reason to keep Cas with him for cuddles.

Cas would go to his angel duties every morning no matter how much Dean tried stopping him, he even tried seduction in vain.

One day, "Come with me, I'm gonna meet some souls", Cas said and Dean knew that meant something and wanting Dean there was a privilege to him.

He never meant to stay at the edge of the garden, Cas kept to the quiet paths, the ones with moon lilies and whispering water, where the trees arched like cathedrals, he didn't mind being alone, not anymore.

Because now he could feel Dean nearby, could sense his joy ripple across the forest every time Dean relived a favorite memory—driving the Impala through sunlight, wrestling Sam in the bunker kitchen, watching Bobby polish his guns while grumbling about idiots.

Cas smiled when those memories passed through the air like wind and that was enough, until the first soul came.

A woman, she looked around in awe, barefoot, her hair lit like fire in the Heaven-sunlight, Cas remembered her instantly—dying in a hospital bed. Breast cancer. Late stage. The reaper had been hovering.

Cas had whispered a prayer into her soul and healed her before her husband could lose her, she walked through the blooming orchard with purpose and then stopped—right in front of him.

"You," she said, tears in her eyes and Cas shifted awkwardly, "Yes. I... remember", he said not knowing how to reply.

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him and Cas froze, he has never been hugged by anyone but Dean, Sam and Jack.

"I've never stopped thanking you," she whispered, "Even after I passed years later. I asked to come here. I knew this was yours", she said.

Cas slowly raised his arms and returned the embrace, still stiff, still stunned, "You're welcome," he said, softly, "I... didn't know you remembered", he said.

"Oh," she laughed gently, "We all do", she said and stepped aside and Cas looked up— And saw them.

Dozens. Hundreds. Thousands. Ten thousands. Souls. Faces from every time and place. A boy with a skateboard. A nurse with weary eyes. A child with golden pigtails. A grandfather who once prayed to die before he became a burden. A soldier who'd wept in Cas' arms after the demons fled. A girl who once sat in a park and couldn't walk, and then stood.

They all stood at the edge of the glade now, one by one approaching. Thank you. You saved me. You stayed.

Cas backed up, overwhelmed, "I didn't do it for thanks", he said and knocked onto Dean, who held him steady in his arms, pushing him softly in front again.

"We know," someone said softly, "That's why we're here," said another. A child held out a daisy crown. Cas stared at it, hands trembling.

Then Dean was suddenly beside him, warm and steady, taking his hand, his voice was thick with emotion.

"They remembered you," he whispered, "Even when you didn't remember yourself", he said and Cas looked at him, voice shaking. 

"Why is this so hard?", he asked letting vulnerability slip only for Dean and Dean smiled, eyes glassy, "Because no one ever told you you were worth loving back, well I did, but I loved no matter your darkness, your pain, your disappointment, but they, they love you for all the positivity and what you did", he explained.

Cas broke again, but this time—into joy. He knelt as children hugged him. As elders touched his shoulder with reverence. As warriors bowed their heads. The daisy crown landed gently atop his tousled hair.

He looked ridiculous and divine and Dean wiped his cheek and laughed, "You're such a sap, Angel", he said.

Cas didn't respond, he just looked around at the forest he built, the lives he saved, the souls who still loved him.

"This is... more than I ever dreamed", he whispered and Dean kissed his temple, "You are more than you ever dreamed", he countered softly.

That night, as the stars swayed above and the forest breathed in gold, Dean wrapped his arms around Cas beneath the boughs of a tree older than time.

And whispered against his neck: "You didn't fall, Cas. You rose. Every time you helped someone, you rose", he praised, Cas deserved it, he had treated Cas badly few times, but now he knows, now Cas deserves.

And Cas—soft, shy, luminous—let the weight go, once and for all, because now the garden bloomed with gratitude.

And every soul who passed through Heaven's gates remembered the angel who never asked for thanks—

But received it anyway. Forever. And as fireflies lit the path and the breeze sang with memories, Dean laced his fingers with Cas's.

"We made it, didn't we?", he whispered with so much hope and love in his voice and Cas smiled, eyes shining like stars.

"Yes," he said, "And this time, we get to stay", he said and as they kissed beneath the ancient tree, the silent garden came to life—

Blooming for them both.

Chapter Text

Jensen was jealous, he shouldn't be, Misha was laughing that's what he wants but he was jealous nonetheless.

He was jealous of the fact that he didn't make him laugh, he was jealous of the fact that Misha can laugh at anyone's jokes, but he can only laugh, like fully laugh at Misha's.

They were signing after their comic con, season 7 comic con, Misha was made series regular last year and more than anyone Jensen was happy.

But seeing Jared and Misha laugh at something they told each other, Jensen wanted to either stab himself or throw his brother far away, but he loved his brother a little too much for his liking.

Jensen signed quickly grumbling a little and left to the green room, Jared and Misha saw this and Jared excused himself following his brother.

"Jensen are you alright?", he asked catching up, "Yeah I'm fine", Jensen replied not turning to face him.

"Yeah try again brother", Jared replied snorting and Jensen turned his eyes full of pain and anger.

"What are you doing here?", Jensen asked masking his anger and changing the subject, "Misha sent me", Jared replied.

Ofc he did, Misha knew Jensen more than anyone else, like Cas knew Dean, even Danneel didn't know him that much.

"What's wrong Jen?", Jared asked his voice softening and bringing it back to subject, "I don't know, I... nothing", Jensen said going into the green room.

It was just the two of them, "Jen I'm not leaving till you tell me", Jared said, "I honestly don't know Jared, seeing Misha laughing, I should be happy, I should be laughing, but I want to literally kill myself just for the fact I am not the one making him laugh", Jensen rambled.

"Ever since he came to the show, ever since he came into my life I feel... when he is not with me, I feel..., when he makes me laugh I..., when I see him I want to run into his arms and hug and k..., but I don't want to do more than that, I want him to be with me all the time, I... he.... makes me... I..., I don't fucking know", he continued and looked at Jared.

He was hoping for Jared to look confused or disgusted, or anything along that line, but what he was met with was, a smile, an understanding smile.

"Why are you smiling like that?", he asked, "I'm- Congratulations you are last person to know this", Jared said.

"What?", Jensen asked more confused than ever, "Misha came to me a year ago saying the exact things that you find hard time saying, let me help you with your statements", Jared said sitting down.

"When he first came into your life, your heart felt at peace, for once your whole mind and soul felt at home, like it has finally found the right place and when he is not with you, you feel the physical ache, even if he is with you but not next to you, you feel as if you can't breath and your heart is crushing from being away from him. When he makes you laugh, even if it is not funny sometimes, you feel your whole body getting tickled, oh he loves making you laugh, after every joke he looks at you to see whether you are laughing, you are his top priority and you want to make him laugh too and Jen I haven't seen you laugh like that with anyone in your life, not even Danneel", Jared said pausing for a second and Jensen looked at him shocked.

Everything he said was true, that's what Jensen was feeling and he never thought Jared noticed it.

"When you see him after a day or week, you want to run into his arms, hug him, be hugged, kiss him like your life depends on that, but you never want to take it further, like sex, it's just kiss. And you want to be with him all the time, cuddling, comforting, laughing, cooking, you want to do all this together, you even want to wake up and sleep to his face. He makes you happy, at peace, and more importantly he makes you feel loved and at home", Jared said and Jensen felt his legs go weak and sat down on the chair breathing hard.

Everything Jared said was more than true, it was real now, all the feelings, "He...uhm... he told you that?", he asked and Jared walked towards Jensen and kneeled in front of him.

"He told me, he told Danneel and he told Vicky, I helped him figure what this is, we researched and it turns out what you two have is called love, not just any love, the purest form of love on Earth, on top of that you two are soulmates", Jared said.

"What?", Jensen asked, "Yeah, every human loves, but they have lust in them too, like for me and Gen, I love her more than anything in my life, but there is some part of lust in us, like - if I have to put it in numbers - 80% love and 20% lust kind of thing otherwise you won't like or have the want to sleep with each other, but you and Misha, what you two have is 100% pure love and that is beautiful Jen, so beautiful", he said.

"I mean he wants to give so much to you, happiness, love, laughter, warmth, and you know how much he has gone through, you have heard him talk in panels. Once I asked why he never told you about his childhood and the thing he said broke me, he told me that he can't see you sad and you also will try to cheer him up and you shouldn't do that for obligation, he is thinking that you don't like him. But when you make him laugh sometimes, I look at you and you look like he is your sun and moon", Jared said pausing and slowly tearing up.

"Do you know his childhood Jen? His parents were divorced when he was very young, he looked after his siblings, he didn't have money, sometimes they would starve, sometimes they would be homeless, his mother couldn't look after them well, he was bullied, teased, beaten up and he, he was in so much pain Jen... I... We can't even comprehend it Jensen, but he never broke once, and more than that, he loves you so much, that he doesn't even want to hurt you for fun", Jared said completely breaking down remembering everything Misha has said.

He suddenly felt two arms wrapping him tightly and Jensen sobbed hearing all the stories from Jared.

"I love him and I will protect him, I am going to talk to Danneel and Vicky, I am surprised they didn't tell me, but I will love him the way he deserves to be loved", Jensen promised and Jared smiled keeping his head on Jensen's lap as sad tears turned to happy tears as it trickled down his face.

Some love didn't need to be shouted. Some love was lived, quiet and deep — in glances, in shared air, in years of choosing each other again and again.

Chapter Text

Jensen talked with Danneel and Vicky the next day while Misha was in set with the others and they were more than happy, because Jensen and Misha without each other were miserable and they just wanted their spouses happy.

It was not physical attraction, it was soulful, they were the only rare kind soulmates and they were happy to keep them that way.

It was Misha's 38th birthday in a week and Jensen knew what exact present to get him, he knows Misha doesn't like big parties.

Now he knows the reason, Misha didn't get to have big parties growing so he spent his adult years giving people things even on his birthday.

So Jensen made Misha spend the whole day with him on his birthday, "Jen I swear if you are trying to prank me or scare the shit out of me, I will kill you", Misha said blindfolded next to Jensen in the car.

Jensen chuckled, "No, I promise you there are no pranks and no big parties also, promise, Vicky and Danneel are donating in your name today, so you are going to celebrate with me, now we are going to get you your gift, although it will be a long ride so strap in", he said.

"Oh come on, at least let me take the blindfold off", Misha said, "Sorry Angel, can't do, how about you tell me stories", Jensen said.

"What stories?", Misha asked slipping into his carmth, "About your childhood", Jensen said and Misha's smile slipped.

"I don't think it's a good idea Jen", he said, "Please Meesh", Jensen said and Misha sighed and started his story.

He told about everything and everyone that helped him through his life, including Mr.Hiagus(I hope that's the correct name guys, apologies if it is wrong, so I am gonna say Mr.H from now on).

"He helped me through some real shit Jen, I was trying to kill myself at that point of life and gave me a reason to live", Misha said tears slipping through the blindfold and down his face.

Jensen took Misha's hand and kissed it, him also crying, "If he wasn't there I wouldn't be sitting here next to you", Misha said and Jensen's heart stopped at that possibility.

"But you are and I will always be there for you", Jensen promised and Misha smiled softly, "But I haven't had time to visit him for more than a year now, God I am so ungrateful", he said.

"Hey, you are not, you have been busy, with West being born and work, don't beat yourself up", Jensen said wiping Misha's tears who smiled.

"Ok I think I have told you so many stories for more than an hour now, where are we going?", Misha asked changing the subject.

"We are here, just a few more minutes", Jensen said and just like he said they stopped in a few minutes and Jensen helped Misha down.

He heard s door opening and getting inside a house, "I swear Jensen, there better be not something sexual in this", Misha warned.

"Is that the first thing you are gonna say to me after more than a year of not seeing me?", said a voice and Misha immediately removed the blindfold.

"Oh my god", Misha said his eyes tearing up again as he saw Mr.H standing in front of him, "Happy birthday son", Mr.H said and Misha looked at Jensen who nodded with tears in his eyes.

Misha rushed forwards and hugged Mr.H like his life depended on him, "I missed you so much, and I am so sorry I couldn't visit you", Misha said and Mr.H patted.

"No need son, from what I heard from this wonderful young man, I hear you have a son, when am I gonna meet my great grandson?", Mr.H asked smiling.

Misha chuckled, "Soon, I will bring him within a month", he promised and they settled, "So tell me what do you want for your birthday?", Mr.H asked.

Misha smiled and looked at him and Jensen who has been quite all this time, "I have everything I want for my birthday and more", he said and Jensen softened smiling.

Mr.H noticed their look and smiled, "Well at least have a piece of cake, I bought it for you", Mr.H said and Misha quickly hugged him, his first cake after being homeless and hungry was from him.

"Oh no more crying big boy, you are a father", Mr.H said and they continued talking for an hour or two before they decided to leave.

Jensen knelt in front of Mr.H as Misha stood behind him near the doorway, "Misha told me all about you while coming here and I just want to say thank you, thank you for saving him, thank you for doing everything to him that you could do, thank you for giving him to me, I won't be as happy as I am without him and thank you for making him the man I love", he said and heard Misha take a deep breath and gasp.

"Well thank you for making him happy then", Mr.H said and Jensen smiled and Mr.H laughed and patted him.

"Both of you be happy", he said blessing them and the two left, it was quiet in the car for a minute, "Did you mean it?", Misha asked.

"Every word", Jensen said, "I was confused, but Jared helped me figure it out", he continued and Misha looked at him again tears forming in his eyes and Jensen stopped the car by the side of the road.

"Hey today is your birthday and I made you cry three times already, you are kinda making me look bad here, honey", Jensen said cupping Misha's face who laughed as he wiped his tears once again.

"Sorry, but thank you for my best birthday in years", Misha said and Jensen kissed his forehead, "Hey no thank yous and sorrys between partners in love", he said.

"Partners? Love?", Misha asked raising his eyebrows playfully, "Ok, ok, I love you, you idiot, I am sorry, but I am like Dean I am emotionally constipated, but I really do love you", he said and Misha smiled brightly.

"I love you too Jensen", he said softly and kissed him, both melting in the kiss, both pulled away, "I like partners", Misha said and Jensen chuckled.

"Yeah? Then get ready partner, you are gonna spend a whole day with me, just each other", he said, "I love that", Misha said and pulled Jensen in for another kiss.

This time their heartbeats synchronized into same rhythm, like puzzle finally clicking together and their souls sighed in recognition and they were finally at home.

Chapter Text

Misha was late to the convention and Jensen was going crazy, they were together till last evening and then they went to their own houses.

Ever since they figured this relationship, they bought a home together and go there sometimes, after late night shoots and just because they want to.

They loved their wives, but sleep was hard to them without each other, they needed to cuddle each other for the most peaceful and dreamless sleep.

Their souls otherwise would be restless, but if the shoot finished early they would go to their houses to their spouses and their children.

So yesterday was another similar day where they had gone to their family, so Jensen missed Misha badly.

He and Jared were the first to go into the panel after Rob, Rich and Matt's panel, it should have been him, Misha and Jared, but since Misha was late, they had to change up.

Jared noticed Jensen being more silent than ever, in fact Jensen couldn't answer clearly, his mind was getting more scrambled.

"You know I read something", Jared said in his mic and Jensen looked at him, like he was listening from underwater.

"You know they say there are purest soulmates, like with pure 100% only love and no lust at all, like they would thirst over the person when they are sexy and all, but a kiss, a deep kiss satiates that thirst. So when two person like that connect, acknowledge their relationship and all, even if they separate for an hour, let alone a day, they would feel, breathless even though they are breathing and they would feel... let's see how to say that...hmm... lost. Yes that's the right word, they would feel lost without each other, their souls feel restless without each other. Kind of like how Jensen is right now, but too bad there are no one like that with purest soulmate", Jared said smirking and Jensen glared at him.

"Next question", Jensen said and within 10 minutes Rob and Rich came to the stage, "Sorry to interrupt, we have a guest joining in", Rich said and Jensen's heart started beating to a rhythm.

"Let's give it up for MISHA COLLINS and his guest", Rob said and started singing 'He's an angel', Jensen and Jared got up.

Jensen's face broke into the biggest grin as he saw Misha and West in his arms, West was laying in Misha's shoulder, but he looked cute and yet tired.

"He's found", Jared said and Jensen glared at him as if he is going to smack him and he did, as all the fans shouted.

West saw Jensen and broke into a mirrored grin, "Unca Jen", he said and jumped into Jensen's arms away from his father who smiled in the sweetest way and hugged the others as all awed.

Finally Misha hugged Jensen who sighed, while having West in his arms, "Hey", he said softly and Misha kissed his cheek quickly, their kisses on cheeks were not new to fans.

The three settled Jensen in the middle with a suddenly energetic West, "You were quite all this time young man, now where did this energy come from?", Misha asked but he had the fondest smile on his face.

"Well he is part you, so that little part of him is cheering up in our presence", Jared said but Misha and Jensen understood what he meant by 'our'.

"That explains JJ", Jensen said and Misha nodded, "JJ has a crush on Misha", Jensen said turning to the crowd and everyone lost it.

"She has good choices", Misha said smiling and Jensen smiled, that she has, he thought and Misha looked at him knowing exactly what he might be thinking.

Jared got some sweets, "Here you go big guy", Jared said, "No", Misha and Jensen said, last time West with sweets, Vicky made them take West with them to their home.

"One?", West asked his dad and uncle Jensen who melted, "Fine, one, if you eat more I am not reading you anymore stories than usual", Misha said and West laughed and jumped into Jared's arms.

"Ok guys rapid fire, only till he eats that", Jensen said and they tried as best as they could to answer.

Soon enough West was walking, jumping, and pushing and pulling everything on stage, he went to the podium and started to climb on it and immediately Jensen and Misha got up, full on their dad mode.

 "Why did I think we could handle him?", Misha asked and all laughed, "West come here buddy", Jensen said patting his lap and West obeyed and got onto Jensen's lap, hugging him.

All awed and Misha smiled at them and kissed West's head, "Thank you", he muttered to Jensen who smiled and blinked at him.

"So my question is to Jensen and Misha, so there have been times when Misha is seen wearing Jensen's clothes and people have speculated, care to explain?", a fan asked.

"No", Misha said quickly and Jensen laughed hard holding West close, Misha looked at him with the fondest smile.

What could they say, they do sleep together, but not like the fans thought, they would make it disgusting sometimes, not wrong but not right also.

When they sleep together and Jensen is in his arms, the feeling is so... their half naked bodies fit together so perfectly, that they feel like one.

Waking up the next morning and seeing the sun shining on his love and waking him up with peppering him with kisses are the best.

Jensen usually grumbles when waking early but with the kisses he smiles and drowns in them and they usually stay like that kissing, not only the face, but Misha likes to kiss Jensen's freckled toned body and it always is so romantic and sweet.

Misha snapped out of his thought as West screamed something in the mic and saw Jensen getting rattled too.

Both of them had thought the same, "Well, Jensen doesn't like wearing the same clothes, so he gives it to me, I don't mind that so there's that", Misha said and Jensen also explained that reason.

"Next time you see this shirt it won't be on me", Jensen said pointing at his shirt and smirking at Misha who blushed a little.

Everyone screamed and West winced, so Jensen closed his ears, holding him close and kissed his head.

The panel went for another half an hour and Misha saw Jensen's arm getting tired, West was playing in Jensen's arms.

"Give him to me, your arm is getting tired", Misha said and all awed as West shook his head and buried his head into Jensen's shoulder hugging him.

"West, come on buddy, Uncle Jensen's arm is hurting from holding you too long", Misha said and tried to pry West out but Jensen stopped him.

"No no I am fine, he's my buddy, after he grows I won't be able to carry him, let it be Mish", Jensen said and Misha smiled the softest smile and nodded.

Soon enough the panel ended and they all went backstage, "Daddy can we go back with Uncle Jensen?", West asked.

"Why buddy?", Misha asked taking some refreshment, "Don't know", West said getting tired and fell asleep on Jensen's shoulder.

"Come with me Meesh, we'll have dinner and tomorrow you can go home", Jensen said and Misha smiled softly and nodded.

"I'll drive, I don't trust you with your hands after holding West for this long", he said and Jensen rolled his eyes.

"You love me", he said as they bid bye to everyone and walked back to the parking lot, "I didn't say otherwise", Misha replied and Jensen blushed a little as Misha gave him a quick kiss.

And as they walked into the night, with West sleeping soundly and their fingers brushing quietly between them, it felt less like going home—and more like already being there.

Chapter Text

Dean didn't mean to wish his father back, they were in deep shit and he knew his father could help them and when he got the pearl, he just wished his father back without realizing the consequences.

The bunker flickered and they were attacked and it was by their father and Dean and Sam were too happy to notice the changes.

But Dean did feel it, in his heart and in his soul, an empty feeling, but he was happy thinking that maybe this was their big win.

His mother and his husband was out shopping as these two were with their father and his mom came back, within an hour alone.

"Dean there was sudden flash and Cas...", she trailed seeing John and stopped, the sons tried explaining and she immediately hugged her husband.

Dean wanted to introduce Cas and was watching the doorway for his husband to come and instinctively his hand went to his wedding ring and stopped feeling the ring missing.

He looked at his ring finger to see the ring missing, "Mo... mom, where is Cas?", he asked the empty feeling digging deeper.

"That's the thing Dean, I was with Cas and suddenly bright light and Cas vanished", she said and Dean's eyes turned murderous.

"Vanished? Vanished how? Vanished where?", he asked and Sam held his shoulder, "I don't know Dean", she said.

Dean turned to the doorway to leave before his father stopped him, "Where are you going son?", he asked.

"To find my Angel", Dean said stopping for a second before leaving with Sam, "Did he say-", "Yep", Mary quickly said.

Dean and Sam went out and everything was different, "What if our this life catches up with us Dean? What happens to us then?", Sam asked seeing their life of this timeline.

"Maybe he went to heaven to see what went wrong, he will be alright won't he Sammy?", Dean asked still thinking about his husband and missing his ring, it was made out of small amount of Cas' grace and it has been in his hand for more than 3 years now and it felt naked without it.

"Dean I am serious", Sam said, "Yeah well, I am too Sammy, this is my husband I'm talking about", Dean replied and there was a bright light in the restaurant behind them.

The two rushed there and Dean sighed seeing Cas, but something was different, "Cas?", he called.

"The Winchesters?", Zachariah said, "Cas you know us", Dean said as Zachariah blabbered some shit he couldn't bother to hear.

"I don't know you", Cas said and Dean's heart broke into pieces, the fight broke and Sam killed Zachariah but Dean didn't fight Cas back, he couldn't.

"Cas know this, I forgive you", Dean said holding his hand over Cas' heart as he choked him, "I need you baby, I need you", Dean said and felt Cas's hand lose a little before he was blasted away by Sam.

The two went to the bunker in complete silence the whole way, the two saw their parents laughing in the kitchen, and silently slipped to their rooms.

That night, Dean was sleepless after years and he opened his eyes to see a naked man standing, "What?", he said getting up quickly with a gun in his hand.

"Woah wait, I am a Cherub, Castiel sent me", the Cherub said and Dean lowered his gun, "Cas?", he asked.

"Yeah, he was too scared to come, he said his grace recognized your soul in ways it shouldn't have and he was scared that if he came here he would lose himself to you", the Cherub said and Dean chuckled and sat on his bed with his hands on head. 

"He's scared? I'M LOST", Dean shouted and stopped seeing the Cherub wince, "Sorry", he said, "No don't be, but I am confused why you are not taking the next step", the cherub asked.

"What do you mean?", Dean asked although his heart knew the answer, "Break the pearl, everything will go back to the way it was", the Cherub said.

"But my parents, they are happy", Dean tried explaining, "They were brought together by us, they were never really in love, they hated each other, you two were needed so they were tied together, but we never brought you and Cas together, I don't see any Cherubs mark on you, you two were together despite heaven's orders, that is true love, you're gonna lose that for some fake love?", the cherub asked and Dean blinked confused.

He went to reply but the cherub was gone, he slept for a few hours maximum as his thoughts got too much and the next morning Dean walked into the kitchen sleepily hoping to get some sleep on Cas's shoulders, but saw his parents and brother laughing and stopped short.

He remembered the day before and the fact he wasn't married anymore, "Morning Dean", his mom said and Dean just fake smiled and took his coffee leaving the kitchen.

Sam followed him, "What have you decided Dean?", he asked stopping Dean, "I want to break the pearl Sammy, but if you chose not to, I understand but I will be leaving", he said.

"What?", Sam asked, "I can't live in a World where Cas doesn't know me and I especially can't call this bunker home without him", Dean explained.

Sam smiled, "What?", Dean asked, "I'm glad you remember who Cas is to you", Sam said, "What?", Dean asked again.

"Ever since mom came back, you have been taking your husband a little too much for granted, you love him that is very visible, but you brushed some of his insecurities the past few days and now I am glad you know you can't live without him", Sam said and it hit Dean like train.

"I have, haven't I? Maybe this is my punishment", Dean said and Sam shook his head, "No Dean, we are breaking the pearl and you are gonna apologize to him", he said and Dean smiled and talked with their parents, who agreed knowing they can't changed their children's lifestyle.

They broke the pearl and everything went back to normal, Dean looked at his finger and there it was his wedding ring.

He smiled and the bunker door opened and Cas walked in, "Mary, where did you go, one minute you were there and the next-", Cas started coming downstairs and Dean crashed into him.

"Dee are you ok honey?", Cas asked surprised, holding Dean close, not even stumbling a bit and Dean nodded into his shoulder.

"I am sorry, I should have listened to you, I should have talked more to you, I should never take you for granted, I am sorry baby", Dean cried and Cas held him closer if possible.

"What happened Dean?", Cas asked and Dean faced Cas but still in each other's arms, "A lot, but I love you", he said and Cas gasped smiling softly.

Dean rarely says those three words and when he says it, it always surprises Cas, "I love you too, darling", Cas said and the two kissed.

Sam cleared his throat, "Get a room you two", he said and Dean rolled his eyes, "We do have one", he said and Sam acted like throwing up.

Mary chuckled and pulled Sam with her, "Come on, let me tell you what happened", Dean said pulling Cas to the kitchen, he was hungry for Cas' hamburgers.

As Cas stirred the skillet, humming under his breath, Dean leaned against the counter, watching him with the fondest smile and the wedding ring warm on his finger—a weight he'd nearly lost forever—and for the first time in a long time, he knew exactly where home was.

Chapter Text

It was a JenMish panel once again, after the show has ended and the covid lockdown was taken away.

"Hey", Jensen said softly, he had missed his partner, they only talked through video calls and zoom meetings for the past year and they met 3 days ago and was in their home the past three days, cuddling and kissing.

Their souls were in extreme pain and torment the past year and three days weren't enough, thankfully they were going to spend the rest of week and few more days than that together.

"Hi", Misha replied softly and they sat next to each other as close as possible, "How you doing?", Jensen asked going through their usual routine.

"Ok, surviving", Misha said and Jensen knew what he meant, Vicky and he were not doing good, for the first time in over twenty-five years, their marriage was cracking under the weight of too many silences and too many fights.

Jensen held his shoulder and Misha put on a smile immediately, he wasn't going to make Jensen upset.

"Let's take some questions", Jensen said changing the subject and the questions started, "Hi my questions is for both of you", the first fan said.

"Thank God", Misha said and Jensen, his love chuckled, "Well the question starts for Jensen, in the episode Rupture, Dean blames Cas for everything, if it had been Sam in Cas's place would he have blamed as much as he did? Is it right he calls Cas as his brother, but doesn't consider him even as family? And for Misha do you think Cas leaving in that episode was right and would he have stopped for any reason?", she asked and the whole audience ooh'ed.

Misha chuckled as Jensen looked at him for help, "Well, no, he wouldn't have", Jensen said and all the audience boo'ed.

"Ok ok, I get it, but that doesn't mean Cas isn't family, Cas is everything to Dean", Jensen said looking into Misha's eyes, both smiling fondly and for a minute it was just them.

"He just was in wrong mood and wrong place and well he suffered for it didn't he?", Jensen said and all nodded.

"Meesh", Jensen said, "Yeah, yeah what was the question?", Misha asked and all laughed, "I'm kidding", he said seeing Jensen relax.

"Yes, I think it is right that he left, he should have left long time ago, he was Dean's punching bag for way too long", he started and held his hand in defence as Jensen looked at him.

"Hear me out, Dean doesn't listen well, so you have to understand, Cas has been quite patient with Dean for 12 years, so it was right for him to leave and on what would have stopped him", Misha said pausing to think.

"Dean saying stop, sure, but at that moment I think nothing would have stopped him", Misha said and all cheered.

"Ok my question is about the beautiful sunset pictures you two shared in the past, was it purposeful, like you wanted that kind of picture or an accident? And how many pictures did you take?", the next fan asked and Misha and Jensen looked at each other.

They had taken plenty, but one always stood out—the one that became their lock screen. In it, their foreheads touched, Jensen's arms circling Misha's waist with a gentleness that felt like devotion itself, steady and sure, as though promising he wasn't going anywhere.

Misha's arms, though, told another story. They clung tight around Jensen's neck, desperate and unyielding, his grip rough with fear, as if he were begging the universe not to take this away—afraid that if he loosened even a little, Jensen might slip from his grasp.

His eyes were closed, the way one prays for something fragile to last forever, Jensen's, however, were open—memorizing Misha, drinking him in, his lips curved into that quiet smile, the one he gave only to him, a smile of gratitude, as if he were silently thanking the universe for this love.

The sun dipped behind them, framing their silhouettes in shadow, and yet—even in the dim outline—the curve of a smile and the tremor of lashes gave everything away, for anyone willing to see.

Jensen explained the story they had for the audience and his face glowed and he smiled automatically and God his whole body was so excited like he always did when it came to Misha.

PS; VIDEO FOR REFERENCE; LOOK AT HIS DAMN SMILE, GOD THEY ARE SO BEAUTIFUL WHEN THEY TALK ABOUT ONE ANOTHER!!!

That's when the music started and few more casts joined them, including Jared, Mark, Danneel, Rob and Rich.

"Wow this suddenly became like the set", Misha said letting the others sit and finally sitting in the corner next to Rich.

Jensen was in the other end next to Danneel and he was not ok, he can see Misha clearly as they had made a semicircle and Jensen and Misha were facing each other but still not close.

Misha was used to the pain and Jensen was too but he didn't like it, "If you could change thing from the ending what would it be?", the next fan asked.

"I would include some characters", Misha joked and all laughed, "No, I agree, in the end, in heaven Dean should have met few other people, especially Cas considering how they ended and also for the fact Cas was the only other constant in his life other than Sam and Bobby", he said and the screams nearly made everyone deaf.

They continued answering and fans noted how Jensen and Misha were looking at each other, Jared especially noticed and loved their smiles to each other.

Fans were even surprised that they didn't see much love between Jensen and Danneel, but there was something definitely going on with JenMish.

Many fans realized how much they had in their subconscious seen Jensen as a great actor, a great brother, a great best friend, a great father, but never a great husband.

Danneel and Jensen had always felt more like best friends than husband and wife—and now, it was more obvious than ever.

But Misha and Jensen... something different passed between them, a silent language only they understood, "What do you think your characters personal heaven would be?", another asked and everyone gave their answers, but when it was Jensen's turn, the air shifted.

"Honestly?" he said, looking briefly at Misha before facing the crowd, "I think it would be Dean being with Cas. They had this... domesticity. A peace that was missing in the final episode. It just felt off without it. So yeah—I think Dean would need Cas. He'd finally get to say, 'Maybe good things do happen'", he gave the quote a subtle smile.

Misha's grin broke wide open, the room exploded in cheers, "Which other character would you like to play?", a fan asked, "Crowley", Misha and Jensen said together and laughed as all cheered once again.

"I wanted to say Lucifer, but I already played him", Misha said, "Even I wanted to say Lucifer, but I don't think I can match Misha or Mark", Jensen said.

"I would choose Cas", Danneel said and Misha winked at her making Jensen chuckle, "One thing that shocked you in the script?", someone asked.

"Nothing much", Jared answered, "One thing shocked me is, Cas doing everything the past years was his own and not Chuck's", Rob answered.

"His love for Dean was so strong that Chuck didn't have a hold on him," Rich added, casually—but the moment landed hard, Jensen and Misha both flushed pink.

"I agree, just imagine it hitting Dean that everything Cas did for him was all him and fully out of love and I mean it is right, Dean only believed in one Angel and it was his Angel", Jensen said and all screamed again.

Jensen looked down, trying to hide his smile, Misha rubbed the back of his neck, clearly flustered.

The moderator signaled the end of the panel, the cast began to rise from their seats, waving at fans, tossing thank-yous into the sea of applause.

Chairs scraped. Lights shifted. Fans began to stand. But Jensen barely moved, his eyes were locked across the semicircle—on Misha, who was still sitting, legs crossed, hands in his lap like he didn't quite want to leave either.

Then, without thinking, Jensen moved. Not toward the exit. Not toward Danneel. Not toward the green room.

Toward him, Misha stood just as Jensen reached him, and for a moment, they simply stood there—barely a foot apart, the noise of the crowd dulling to a soft buzz in their ears.

"You good?", Jensen asked, voice low, but warm, "Better now," Misha said, smiling, not his usual panel-smile—the soft one, the one he gave only to Jensen, the one that had always undone him.

Jensen reached out, almost instinctively, and laid a hand on Misha's arm. Just for a second. Just enough to feel that he was real again.

Behind them, Jared watched it all—arms crossed, a quiet smile on his face, he knew that look on Jensen, knew it better than anyone.

He'd seen Jensen fall in love before, this time, it looked like he'd finally stopped fighting it, this time he was in love, and he knew Misha won't let Jensen fall, not anymore.

Misha leaned in, voice nearly drowned out by the chaos around them, "Dinner later?", he asked and Jensen nodded, "Just us", he replied.

"Just us," Misha repeated, like a promise. They didn't hug, not here. Not yet, but their shoulders brushed as they walked off the stage side by side, as close as gravity would let them.

And behind them, Jared followed, smiling to himself, he was happy for them. Truly. Jared had been knowing Jensen for 16 years but he never saw him that relaxed. 

Like he was in actual peace at that moment while Misha's face literally shone with happiness, it was as bright as the sun.

Some things were worth waiting for. And some people were worth finally choosing.

Chapter Text

Misha woke up to see Jensen in his arms sleeping peacefully his back was facing him, but they were cuddling like puzzles fit together perfectly.

They were both in Canada — Jensen for a shoot, Misha for a campaign, so they decided to share a place.

So for the past month they have been together and they loved it, Misha kissed Jensen's shoulder and moved to get up but was stopped by Jensen holding his arm.

"Stay", he muttered and turned burying his head into Misha's shoulders pulling him extremely close so that they were like one person.

Misha chuckled, but hugged Jensen close, softly stroking his hair, "I'm gonna make us coffee and breakfast honey, you take some rest", Misha said but Jensen pulled him closer if possible.

"No", Jensen muttered, "What's wrong Jen?", Misha asked sensing something wrong, "I missed you", he replied.

"I am here, love", Misha said softly, "I know, but you weren't with me for few months and it was painful", Jensen said moving closer, their bare chests crushing against each other.

"I know", Misha replied, "Our bond could have broken", Jensen muttered opening his eyes, but not moving away to face his love even.

"But it didn't, I won't let it", Misha promised and that's when Jensen pulled away to face his partner.

"I know, but being like this makes me happy", he said and Misha smiled and kissed his forehead, "It makes me happy too", he said.

"What time do you have shoot today?", he asked, "At noon", Jensen muttered smiling contendly as he moved to keep his head on Misha's chest.

Misha looked at the clock on the table, it was 8.00 in the morning now, "Then we need to get up now", Misha said and Jensen whined.

"You stay in bed then", Misha again said laughing, "You made me tired", Jensen said, "Excuse me I didn't think buffing up and having a beard would turn you on so much", Misha said and Jensen blushed and hid his face in Misha's chest, but his hand found Misha's beard, he loved it.

In lockdown, Misha taught his kids woodwork and metal/steel work and that buffed him up and he also had a beard and heavens Jensen was a wreck since he first saw Misha in video call.

That's why every night Jensen would kiss and give Misha hickeys till they got tired and Misha loved it.

"Someone is blushing", Misha said laughing and kissed Jensen's head, who hugged him, "But I am serious, you need to get ready", Misha said and Jensen moved but didn't get up.

Misha got up, freshened up and was in the kitchen making breakfast when Jensen trudged in and hugged Misha from behind.

"I love you", Jensen muttered kissing Misha's shoulder up to his ear and Misha groaned, "I love you too Jen", Misha muttered wounding his hand into Jensen's hair.

"At what time are you coming home today?", he asked, "Probably for dinner, why?", Jensen replied.

"Well Rob and Rich asked us to join the podcast today, today is the episode where Cas becomes God", Misha explained handing Jensen his coffee and turning around.

"We can do it at dinner", Jensen said and Misha smiled, "We might make the others question what is going on with us", Misha said.

"Let them, then they will know you are mine", Jensen replied and Misha blushed washing his cup.

Jensen chuckled and the two moved to the dining table sitting opposite each other, "I wish we could always be together", he suddenly said and Misha looked surprised.

Misha had sold his house with Vicky since she moved out and now he was at their home, he was alone, he wasn't planning to date anyone and since they bought the home together he decided to stay there.

He loved it in a quiet way, now, he spent his time with his kids, and with Jensen — and finally, some of it for himself.

Jensen comes to stay with him every month for a few days, or a week and this was the first time they were together for nearly a month without separation.

"You don't mean that", Misha said and Jensen shrugged, "I love Danneel, but sometimes I just want to come home and quietly cuddle and sleep", he explained and Misha understood what he meant.

"Last week I had the worst shoot day, and when I came home, you just looked at me, gave me my dinner and cuddled me to sleep, all of it in silence and I am so grateful to that", Jensen said and Misha smiled softly and took his hand, kissing it softly.

"You give me everything I need", he continued, "You give me everything I need too, Jen. But please — don't ask for a divorce. Don't even think about it, for your children's sake at least", Misha said and Jensen nodded.

"Besides Danneel is your best friend too, for her - be a husband because she is your best friend", Misha said softly.

"You are my best friend", Jensen replied and Misha chuckled getting up with their plates, "You'll need more than just cuddles, honey", he said.

"You didn't", Jensen said getting up and following Misha, who hadn't been with anyone since his divorce, 3 years ago.

"I'm satisfied with your love, I don't want sex", Misha said putting the dishes to wash and when he turned around, Jensen had already locked him against the kitchen counter, Misha just smiled, arms wrapping naturally around Jensen's waist, letting him talk.

"With you, I don't have to pretend I'm okay, I just... am", he started his ramble, "And you never have to pretend with me, you being you, and even happier is all I want", Misha said and Jensen gave his fondest smile.

"You gave me all of you — completely. I want to be yours fully too", he said and Misha kissed his cheek, "You are mine, you are my soulmate fully right, so you are mine, if you separate from Danneel for that reason, you won't be the one I fell in love with, you won't be my soulmate", he explained.

"What if-", Jensen started and Misha kissed him stopping him from talking more, "I will always be here, if you really want that life, I will be here, but don't choose this just because you are tired of that life, I chose this because Vicky needed more, she wanted more than what I wanted to give in my relationship with her and mainly because I love you and that's enough", Misha said pulling away and Jensen kept his head on Misha's chest.

"I can't breath like this anywhere else", Jensen said wrapping his arms around Misha's neck, "Then stay here as long as you need to. No expectations. No pressure. Just peace", he said.

"It's not about sex, or thrill, or escape. It's about home, and I don't know where that is anymore," Jensen said, and for once Misha didn't have an answer because Jensen was the answer to this question—from Misha's point of view, Jensen was Misha's home.

Chapter Text

Jensen came home early from shoot, he was supposed to be back for dinner, but he came home in the evening, so Misha wasn't home yet.

That's when he got his answer to his confusion, he felt alone, but he also felt at peace, when he went to make dinner in the kitchen, he smiled automatically without realizing.

As he saw the note on the fridge, his smile turned into grin, "If you come home early, there is fruit salad in the fridge eat it before making dinner", it said.

Jensen obeyed the note like it was law, then started prepping dinner and somewhere between chopping vegetables and stirring the pot, it hit him — this feeling.

This was home. Without Danneel and the kids, the house back in Austin felt like just bricks and silence. 

But here — in this temporary, rented apartment — it felt like something real, even with Misha gone, the space held warmth, memory, ease. 

Because Misha had built it that way, with him, Misha gave him that feeling, just as he finished making dinner and preparing the table for the two of them, Misha walked in.

"Hey", Misha said smiling a little surprised at the candlelight dinner and Jensen walked towards him quickly and kissed him lifting him and spinning him.

"Woah, you are gonna hurt your back big guy, what happened?", Misha asked and Jensen shook his head and led Misha to the table by hand.

"I can live that life with Danneel for the kids as long as I can come back to this, come back to you", Jensen said as they sat down.

"I'm glad you agreed to that, but what made you decide that?", Misha asked smiling proudly, "The answer to my question on where home is", Jensen said and Misha looked at him.

"You are my home Meesh, you are my answer to home, peace and everything I want", Jensen said pausing.

Misha didn't speak at first, he just looked at Jensen — really looked — like he was trying to memorize the moment.

"That's the first time you've said that out loud," Misha finally whispered, "I know," Jensen said, reaching across the table to take his hand, "It felt right now. Not rushed. Not confused. Just... true", he said.

Misha's fingers tightened around his, "I'll never ask you to choose. But I will ask you to be honest — with yourself first, with me second", he said.

"I will," Jensen nodded, "But I already know. Being with you doesn't feel like escaping. It feels like arriving", he said.

Misha blinked quickly, clearing his throat, "You say things sometimes... and I don't think you realize how deeply they hit", he said his voice shaking a bit.

"I mean them," Jensen said, standing and coming over to kneel beside Misha's chair, resting his head on Misha's thigh like it was the most natural place in the world.

"And I love you," Misha said, brushing his fingers through Jensen's hair, "I love you more and for that", Jensen said pausing and taking a ring box out of his pocket.

"Jen", Misha started trying to stop him, "No, listen, baby. This isn't a normal proposal ring. We can't legally marry — not without me divorcing Danneel. And you don't want that... not without a real reason. But this..." Jensen opened the box, revealing two interlocking rings, "...this is a partner ring. They interlock when connected. I want it to be ours. A quiet promise. Our way of saying we're taken — that we belong to each other, I know you might think this is stupid, but-", he was stopped by Misha kissing him and kneeling in front of him.

"Yes, yes", Misha said crying and Jensen's eyes teared up and the two exchanged the rings Jensen on top of his wedding ring, Misha's on his empty left finger.

Misha's ring was matte black, engraved with delicate wings that stretched across the band. A fine blue line ran through the center — like an angel's grace. Inside, it read: "Always."

Jensen's ring was rose gold, a small compass etched on the outer band, the word "Anchor" engraved inside.

Misha turned the ring in his fingers, eyes wide, "When did you do this?", he asked, "A year ago," Jensen muttered, almost shyly.

Misha looked at him, stunned, but then a soft, radiant smile broke across his face, and he leaned in to kiss Jensen — quick, but full of meaning.

Dinner resumed quietly after that, with smiles, lingering touches, and shared glances, the air between them was warmer than candlelight. 

Soon, it was time for the podcast, "Hey guys, oh it seems you two are together", Rich said and Misha looked at Jensen.

"Well we got to know we were here the same time so we decided to have dinner together today, and then take this together", he explained and Misha smiled turning his ring, getting used to it quickly under the camera.

Jensen saw that and smiled, he was going to love this new life, "So Destiel, Rob told me in late season 5 that there is destiel, but I just noticed in The Man who would be King, when did destiel become destiel?", Rich asked.

"I think Meesh is the right person to answer that", Jensen said and Misha chuckled, "Well, my answer is... from Lazarus Rising", he said and Rob and Rich's mouth dropped open.

"What?", they asked together and Jensen chuckled covering his face, his new ring glinting in the lights.

"Yeah, whether the writer meant to or not, Cas' first line to Dean is spoken as himself, not as the Angel of the Lord. The very first thing he does is dissect Dean's heart. He asks, 'Don't you think you deserve to be saved?' Or, 'Good things do happen, Dean' I am not sure, which one, he doesn't have to explain himself... but he does", Misha said and Jensen took his hand under the table both their soul sighing in happiness.

"We fucking missed that subtle things", Rich said and all laughed, "True, Cas questions God because of Dean, Dean first prays to Cas and only Cas, Cas saying he would do anything to not let Dean torture Alastair, yeah there were a lot", Jensen chimed in.

"There was also the park scene", Misha said and Jensen nodded, "Yeah Cas' first smile on screen", Jensen said remembering the scene.

Rob leaned back in his chair, smirking, "You two sound like you've been having this conversation for years", he said.

"We have," Misha said simply, with a little shrug, Jensen laughed, glancing at him sideways. "Yeah, some debates never get old", he said.

Rich narrowed his eyes playfully, "Right... and yet, you finish each other's sentences like an old married couple", he said playfully.

Misha grinned, "That's because he's predictable", he said partly lying, "I'm consistent," Jensen countered, raising an eyebrow.

Under the table, Misha's thumb brushed over Jensen's knuckles, a silent little touch hidden from view. 

Jensen's lips twitched — just enough for Misha to notice, Rob shook his head, "Man, the fandom's gonna eat this episode alive", he said.

"They always do," Jensen said lightly, but the way his gaze lingered on Misha for a heartbeat too long... well, that wasn't for the microphones.

The conversation rolled on to other topics, but in between the jokes and stories, their hands stayed exactly where they were — hidden, but never apart.

The podcast wrapped with more laughter and playful teasing, Rob promising to dig up "every single destiel moment" for the next time.

As soon as the call ended, Misha leaned back in his chair, stretching, "Well... that went better than expected", he said.

Jensen closed his laptop and slid it to the side, "Yeah. But you totally dropped that Lazarus Rising thing like a bomb", he said and turned to his love.

Misha smirked, twisting his new ring absently, "What can I say? Truth deserves to be told", he said and Jensen moved closer to his partner, moving to his lap and straddling him.

Jensen's gaze lingered on the movement of Misha's fingers, "Looks good on you," he said softly and Misha stroked Jensen's hair and looked at the ring in his' love's hair.

He looked at Jen then, and the room went quiet in that way where nothing needed to be said, he kissed Jensen's head.

Jensen reached over, brushing his thumb along the inside of Misha's wrist, "You know, I think this might be my favorite part of the day", he said.

"What, talking about fictional angel-boyfriends?" Misha teased and Jensen shook his head, "No. Just... being here. With you", he replied.

Misha's smile was small but full, the kind that reached his eyes, "Good. Because I plan on giving you a lot more of it", he promised and Jensen smiled and kissed him quickly, that promise was enough for him for this lifetime.

As Jensen traced the ring's curve, his heart swelled with a quiet certainty — that with Misha beside him, they were building a home neither had known they were searching for, one filled with love, peace, and endless tomorrows.

Chapter Text

Dean was suicidal. Ever since he came back from Hell, he didn't care about his life or its dangers. Sam first blamed Cas for that.

Cas gave him the false sense of security, but as years went by Sam realized how wrong he was, Cas never gave him a false sense of security, it was real.

But he also realized how Dean wanted to live because of Cas. Dean was extremely happy with Cas. He smiled more with Cas around—that small, crooked smile that barely reached his eyes with anyone else. He laughed. He looked forward.

Dean was Cas'.

Sam knows Dean would've died for him, he did, but dean would've lived for Cas, Cas made Dean want to live and when Cas died the first time, he thought he was going to lose Dean.

During the Leviathan mess, Dean drowned himself in work. Cleaning guns until the smell of oil filled the bunker, hunting until his knuckles were raw, Sam had been scared, but Dean kept moving.

When Lucifer killed Cas, Dean drowned himself in beer, Sam still remembered the sound — glass bottles rolling on the floor, clinking under Dean's boots.

Dean was Cas'.

Sam felt it the moment Dean told him and Jack where Cas was, the way his voice flattened, "He saved me", he said.

No shouting. No punching walls. Just that dead tone. Sam had seen his brother survive everything — monsters, Hell, losing Dad, losing him.

But this time? Sam knew Dean wasn't coming back. And yet... something was definitely different, Dean didn't stop fighting.

Dean was Cas'.

He was ready to finish it with Chuck and there was one thing that mainly surprised Sam when Lucifer and Michael came together.

When Lucifer called as Cas, Sam knew it couldn't be Cas, but Dean — Dean ran for the door before the thought even landed, that's when Sam realized: the last time Cas called, it really had been him.

"Where's Castiel?", Michael asked as they gathered and Dean didn't answer but he looked down, "I'm sorry", the archangel said understanding.

"He was a good soldier", he said and Dean looked up his eyes blazing slightly — the first spark Sam had seen in weeks, "He was so much more than that", he whispered.

Something did happen in the dungeon, was the only thought of Sam's when Dean answered that. 

Dean was Cas'.

When they had one off with Chuck, he noticed how Dean separately asked him to bring Cas back, he also noticed in their fight Dean was not fighting back.

When Jack took Chuck's powers, Chuck asked Dean to kill him, because that was who he was but Dean replied that it wasn't him, again surprising Sam.

As soon as everything went back to normal, or the right way it should be, Dean totally gave up. It had been months, "Dean, you alright?" Sam asked, catching sight of his brother staring at the bookshelves, unmoving.

Dean's knees gave out suddenly and he slid to the floor and Sam quickly held his brother and for the first time Sam became the big brother.

"I want him back Sammy, I don't think I can live without him", Dean said shaking and Sam hugged him close.

"Dee, pull yourself together, have you eaten? When was the last time you ate?", Sam asked, "Sam I can't do this, I can't keep going on", Dean said in a trance.

Sam didn't know how to pull his brother out of it so he did the only thing he knew, "Dean if Cas were here...", he stopped.

There were two ways he could've completed that sentence: If Cas were here, he would've healed you... or If Cas were here, Dean wouldn't have been this willing to give up and die in the first place.

Dean was Cas'.

"He said he couldn't have me", Dean said looking at Sam, "But he didn't know I was already his, only his", he continued.

Realization hit Sam, his breath catching, "You love him", he said and Dean nodded, "I didn't say it to him, he told me he loved me and I didn't say it back", he said.

"When he said we were real... I didn't take a moment to think how true it was. All of it."

Cursed or not.
I could go with you.
He has this weakness; he likes you.
When Castiel first laid a hand on you in Hell, he was lost.
I need you.
I did it — all of it — for you.

Dean's voice cracked, "And I didn't take a moment to thank him. Or even... acknowledge him", he said and sagged further in Sam's arms, heavy with words he should have said years ago.

"Dean you are so weak now, if you don't eat, or sleep, you'll...", Sam couldn't finish the sentence, "Let me go Sam, let me go to him", Dean said drifting slowly.

"No, no Dean, no, look at me", Sam said slapping his brother lightly, "Jack, Jack I need you", Sam quickly prayed and there was a bright light.

Sam closed his eyes holding his brother close and he opened to see Cas, "Cas?", Sam asked and he walked to Dean, who was in between dying and living.

"Hello Sam", he said taking Dean from Sam's arms into his and started healing him, "You are back?", Sam asked in shock.

"Yes, in both ways, I am a full Angel again and yes I'm back from the Empty, Jack bought me the day he became God", Cas said softly rocking Dean.

"That was nearly 6 months ago Cas, where were you? Dean was dying here do you know that?", Sam asked his voice starting to rise but stopped as he saw Dean's cheek pop out, color returning the way it should be, but he didn't wake up.

"I wrecked heaven and built it new, so when you two come it will be the heaven you two deserve", Cas simply said getting with Dean in his arms.

Sam saw how easily Cas lifted Dean, "Your powers and strength", he started, "Multiple than before, yes I know Sam, I have put Dean to sleep, we'll talk after I lay him down", Cas said and Sam waited in the kitchen.

The house was quiet except for the hum of the fridge, Sam sat at the table, hands wrapped around a mug gone cold.

Cas sat across from him, posture straight but eyes softer than Sam remembered, for a long moment, neither spoke.

Finally, "You stayed away for six months. Was it... hard to come back?", Sam asked and Cas's gaze lowered. 

"It was harder to stay away. But Heaven needed rebuilding. And... I needed to find the right words for when I saw him again", he said.

Sam studied him, "You love him", he said as if that reason should be enough, "Yes," Cas said without hesitation. 

"I love him in every way a person can be loved. And I know I caused him pain. That's... not something I can forgive myself for. But I can make it right", he promised.

Sam's voice softened, "When you were gone, he wasn't just grieving. He was gone too. You're the reason he's still alive at all, Cas", he said.

Cas's expression shifted, like Sam had given him something heavy but precious, "Then I will spend the rest of my existence proving I'm worth that", he said.

They sat in a comfortable quiet at first not knowing what to talk, then slipped into their friendship talks, if Dean and Cas were partners, in love, Sam and Cas were best friends.

Time passed on and footsteps broke it, Dean appeared in the doorway, hair mussed, still pale but upright. 

His eyes went from Sam to Cas — and stayed there, Cas stood immediately, "Hello Dean", he said and Dean's breath caught. 

He shook his head, "No. No, you're not here. You can't be here", he said in denial, "I am," Cas said taking a step front.

Dean took a step back, almost defensive, "I've... dreamed this before. You say you're back and then I wake up", he said.

Cas moved forward slowly, voice low, his face turning a little sadder, "Dean... this isn't a dream", he swore, he was the reason Dean was like this.

Dean's hands curled into fists, by his side, "Prove it", he said and Cas stopped just inches away, close enough that Dean could feel the faint warmth radiating from him. 

Cas reached out, his palm brushing Dean's jaw — and Dean felt it, solid and real, the familiar roughness of calloused fingertips.

"I'm here," Cas said, steady and certain, "And I'm not leaving again", he said sending some grace and Dean's soul recognized and sighed.

Dean stared at him, searching for a crack in the moment, a tell that it wasn't real, but all he saw were those impossibly blue eyes, watching him like he was the only thing in the room.

Dean's voice was barely a whisper, "Cas...", he trailed not knowing what to tell or to do first and then Cas kissed him — gentle, grounding, but with all the weight of years unspoken. 

Dean froze for a heartbeat, then melted into it, a shudder leaving his body like something breaking free.

When they finally parted, Dean's forehead rested against Cas's, his voice was low, but steady, "Okay. You're here", he said his body slowly relaxing in Cas' arms.

They didn't need to say the words, they have never needed words to understand each other and here they proved that again.

From the table, Sam looked away, giving them the privacy they deserved, but a small smile tugged at his mouth. 

Dean was Cas' and maybe, no, not maybe, Cas was already Dean's.

For the first time in months, he felt like maybe everything was going to be alright.

Chapter Text

Dean has always had the responsibility of looking after others and not himself, so when Cas came to himself he was surprised at the feeling of being safe and loved.

Slowly he started falling in love with Cas, well started being in love with Cas since Cas never let him fall even if it meant giving up heaven and he did.

But little did Cas know that his death would shatter Dean, so every time Cas died, Dean shattered harder, recovering less.

Now, Dean sat at the dining table, shoulders hunched, one hand curled loosely around a coffee mug that had long gone cold. 

The smell of garlic and something warm filled the air, the quiet sizzle from the stove mixing with the low murmur of Sam and Cas talking as they worked.

He should've felt comfort in it — domestic, safe, familiar — but his mind kept circling the same thought.

Cas had been back for a week now. Really back. This time, Dean knew it was permanent; Jack himself had brought him home. 

That should've been enough, it wasn't, the thought had been gnawing at him since the day Cas came back, and tonight, without warning, it spilled out.

"Why didn't you come home earlier, Cas?", he asked, the words cut through the quiet like the slam of a door. 

Sam's knife froze halfway through a carrot, Cas's hand stilled on the wooden spoon for just a beat — long enough for Dean to see it — before he moved again, stirring like nothing had happened.

"I needed to help Jack," Cas said finally, voice steady but softer than before, "Some angels... couldn't accept him as the new God. Not when he's technically four years old", he started.

Dean's jaw ticked, but he stayed silent, Cas went on, his tone careful, like he was laying down truth that might hurt. 

"Jack brought me, Gabriel, and Balthazar back to help him. He said if he ever goes rogue, we should be the ones to stop him. We're the only ones who can. And he won't fight us", he said.

Sam glanced at Cas, surprise flashing in his eyes before he looked back at Dean, Dean's fingers tightened around the mug. 

He wanted to say something — wanted to tell Cas how every day without him had felt like a slow bleed — but the words stayed lodged in his throat.

Dean kept his eyes on the mug, the steam long gone, fingers tight enough that the ceramic threatened to crack.

"Six months, Cas," he said finally, voice low, almost hoarse, "Six months you were back... and I didn't know. Six months you were out there, and I was—" He stopped, swallowed hard. 

"I thought I'd never see you again", he said and Cas turned then, spoon resting in the pot, the quiet between them stretching tight, "Dean—", he said turning around to face his love.

"You could've come home," Dean said, sharper now, lifting his head, his eyes locked on Cas, the kind of look that burned more than it accused, "You should've come home", he said.

Cas looked down, "I am sorry Dean", he said, "Sorry doesn't cut it Cas", Dean said, "So what does? You never needed him", said a voice by the doorway.

They turned to see it was Jack and Sam smiled and hugged him who smiled hugging him back, "What are you doing here Jack?", Cas asked.

"Uncle Gabe played a prank on some younger Angels and I need help", Jack said and Cas sighed, "I am gonna kill Gabe", he muttered handing the spoon to Sam.

"I'll be back love", he said to Dean and flew away, but Jack stayed, "What did you mean by that Jack?", Dean asked knowing why Jack was staying back.

"Well, didn't you use Cas most of the time?", Jack asked sitting down and looking Dean, Sam coughed as he tasted the food.

"What?", Dean asked, "Cas gave everything up for you, do you know what it is like to be angel? the most purest thing in the world, he gave that up for you, he kept his faith in the faithless, righteous man. He may have accidentally left Sam's soul, but he did everything to make it right, he took those memories from Sam, you know how painful hell is Dean, imagine it's not just fire and chains, but Lucifer and Michael ripping you apart for eternity, he took those onto himself", Jack said pausing and Dean paled.

"But what did you two do, let him be in the asylum, you went back for information, not for him, but still he loved you, angels love in the purest way and he gave that to you", Jack said taking the fruit juice from Sam and sipping it.

Orangeness filled in his mouth and he smiled for a second becoming the child he is, but quickly went back to being god.

"When Cas died by Lucifer, when I was born, you blamed me, I accepted but I saw how devastated you were and bought Cas back, and even then, even when you were over the moon that he was alive, you used him as your punching bag. As an outlet for whatever you needed", Jack said and Dean's eyes started welling up realizing how true it was.

"You let him walk out after losing his son," Jack said, the final blow coming quiet but lethal, "and you couldn't even tell him you loved him when he saved your life", he said.

The silence was sharp enough to hurt — until a flutter of wings broke it, "Jack", Cas's voice was low, warning, "I told you to never talk about this", he said.

Jack didn't move, but his eyes softened slightly, "How did you know?" Sam asked, Cas's gaze dropped. 

"Dean's pain," he murmured, "I heard it", he said and then started toward Dean — until Dean's hand came up, stopping him in his tracks.

"He is right, I treated you wrong. And you didn't hate me. You stayed. You... loved me anyway, you should've left me", Dean said wiping his eyes and Cas' gaze softened.

"Come with me Dee, I need to show you something", Cas said and Dean looked at him before taking his hand and the familiar warmth of it barely had time to register before the world shifted around him in a quiet rush of wings.

When he opened his eyes, his breath caught. They stood in a forest — but not like any forest Dean had ever seen. 

The air itself seemed alive, sweet with the scent of wildflowers, sunlight spilled through branches heavy with blossoms, every leaf shimmering like it was lit from within. 

Birds sang in harmonies that made the chest ache, butterflies drifted past in colors too vivid to be real. 

The grass was soft under his boots, the kind that made you want to lie down and never get up again.

Dean felt... safe. Happy. In a way he hadn't in years — maybe ever, "Where are we?", he asked quietly, almost afraid to break the spell, "Heaven", Cas said and Dean looked at him surprised.

Cas smiled and nodded, "I broke heaven down to pieces with Gabe and Balthazar's help and created this", he said and a butterfly flew to him and dat on his outstretched hand.

Dean smiled softly, "Do you think I could have created this without you, you were the reason for me to be like this honey, this is a heaven every good deserving soul deserves and I made this with Jack's permission ofc, thanks to you", Cas said.

"That doesn't make whatever I did right Cas", Dean said and the butterfly flew away as Cas turned to face his love.

He wrapped his arms around Dean's waist, "I know and I also know you will feel like that you don't deserve, at least until you get a punishment", he said and Dean nodded.

Cas smiled gently, brushing a stray lock of hair from Dean's forehead, "Ok as your punishment, promise me an eternity, marry me through an unbreakable bond", he said and Dean looked at him surprised.

"In that way I can love you and you also can love me", Cas said and Dean smiled his eyes shining, but this time happily.

"I love you", he said, "Is that a yes?", Cas asked, "It's always a yes to you, my handsome baby in a trenchcoat", Dean replied and Cas rolled his eyes.

"I can kill thousands of demons in a snap and you still call me that", he said and Dean kissed his cheek.

"But you are still my baby in trenchcoat", he said and Cas pulled him for a deep kiss making Dean grin wide in it.

In that moment, surrounded by a heaven they built together, Dean knew one thing for certain—no matter what the future held, they would face it as one. Forever bound, forever home.

Chapter Text

Jensen and Misha husbands of 10+ years sat side by side in another convention con, no one knew they were married to each other.

According to the fans they each were married to someone else, even though they had similar black wedding rings with silver lining on Jensen's and blue lining on Misha's, they shipped but kept their limit.

The husbands also wanted to keep their lives private as possible, but they sometimes slipped things about their kids.

West, their first born, JJ and Maison, their twins and Zeppelin, their final, all through surrogacy, but Misha sometimes slipped about West or Maison so all thought he had two kids and Jensen two.

West and Misha did cooking videos sometimes though, while Jensen filmed with his occasional teases, and fond laughter and the fans thought they were visiting on those days, well they didn't think that, they obviously shipped and thought they fucked, but in front of them, they pretended the other way.

"What is the one thing that surprised you about your kids?", came the first question and the husbands looked at each other thinking.

They decided, "Well we both took our kids on a trip and well, there was this dandelions by the curb and West had read this, that if we wish and blow on the dandelions it comes true, so he made us all pick one and wish things", Misha said pausing as he felt the emotions building up.

"So West wished for this chess set he specifically liked", he said and took the mic away unable to continue.

"JJ wished for this dollhouse she has always wanted and Zeppelin was a child, he was two or three I think, so he didn't wish anything", Jensen said picking up as always and looked at Misha for confirmation who nodded.

"This happened years ago", Jensen said, "And Maison, she uhmm... she said she wished for this", Misha started and choked up, he couldn't continue anymore.

He turned the other side unable to face the audience and Jensen was immediately next to him, he held Misha's shoulder as his husband wrapped his arms around his waist and Jensen kissed his temple.

All wanted to scream, but they respected that moment of emotionality and kept quiet, "I asked her what she meant by that and she said she wanted her parents to always together, happy and so so in love", Jensen said chuckling at that part.

"And to always have these small happy moments like this as a family", he said and Misha turned again to face the audience.

"She was just 5 and she wished that, I felt proud that we gave her that happiness, that feeling  safety and happiness, because when I was young I didn't have a wish like that, I didn't have the greatest family, my family did what they could, but it was broken, and yes I have preserved some special moments in my life", he said and looked at his husband, their eyes softening and so in love.

"The day I met the love of my life, the day we proposed at the same time", he said pausing to laugh, Jensen also joined in.

"The day we got married, the day we had our kids, it was all magical", Misha said never taking his eyes from his husband, both their eyes shining.

"Ok too much chick-flick moment here", Jared said coming up and the husbands rolled their eyes, but welcomed their costar and all screamed.

Jared sat on one end and Jensen on the other while Misha sat in the middle, "If you were stranded on an island who from the other two would you choose to be stranded with?", a fan asked and all laughed.

"Jensen", Jared said, "Misha, cause he would be more prepared for that", Jensen said and Jared rethought and agreed with his brother.

"I wouldn't", Misha said and all laughed, "I would swim, wait are those shark infested waters?", he asked and the fan shrugged a sure.

"Definitely swim", he said and all laughed harder but Jensen looked playfully offended, "How dare you, you won't choose your own-", he stopped realizing where he was.

"My own what?", Misha asked smirking, Jensen narrowed his eyes and made a decision, "Husband", he said and all gasped including Misha.

But he blushed quickly and looked down as the stage nearly broke with the fans happy screams, "Asshole", Misha muttered as Jared chuckled happily at them.

Jensen loved how his husband blushed, "I made my husband blush on stage", he said and all cheered as Misha hid his face in his hands.

Jensen laughed and got up and hugged his husband who melted into him, but pushed him away frowning playfully.

"You told the truth without telling me, I was planning it in a big way", he said and Jared rolled his eyes.

"Next question", he said knowing where this will lead, "Sorry baby", Jensen said and moved his chair closer to his husband both sitting together.

"I can't believe Cockles is real", the next fan squealed and the three smiled, "Ok, ok my question is uhm... what was the prank that scared you the most Misha?", she asked and Misha sighed as the other two laughed.

"Jared's is lot, I still sometimes wake up with beads of sweat running down me", he said and Jensen nodded telling it's true and all laughed.

"Ok when Cas and Sam were in that milkshake town", he said and all chorused a 'yes' remembering.

"Yeah from when I read the script I was scared out of my mind, Sam is supposed to tackle me to the ground and you know what Jared did", he started and told the story and all laughed, Jared the most.

"Reenact", Jensen said, "No, absolutely not", Misha said, "Reenact with your husband", Jared suggested and Misha looked at Jensen who shrugged and laid on the ground.

"Play dead", Misha suggested making all laugh and reenacted the scene and all cheered as when they got up Misha gave a quick peck on his husband's lips.

"Then Jen's is, I love him, but god when Cas was dead and Dean ties Cas's body together, yeah that's when I questioned my life choices", he said and Jensen laughed remembering the scene.

So the questions went on, all fangirling at the new announcement at first and then asking their questions.

"Do you know that Chuck actually won in15x20, well at least until Dean died?", a fan asked and the three except Misha looked confused.

"Yeah I have read this", he said and Jensen and Jared looked at him for an explanation, "Chuck's story for the boys was, no Jack, no Cas, eating pie and drinking beer, going on hunts after researches and well that was what the boys were doing in the last episode until Dean died and went to heaven Cas created with Jack, then only Sam lived his life too", he explained and it dawned on them.

"Jack was born because of Cas because many tried killing Kelly", Jared said, "And everything between Dean and Cas, all of Dean's choices were influenced by Cas", Jensen also said and Misha nodded.

"Why was Cas surprised that Dean was dead when Metatron told him?", another fan asked, "Well that was the first time Dean died after being saved by me, I mean Cas, so in his mind he has always thought that as long as he was there, Dean wouldn't die, but he was surprised when he became the reason for Dean's death", Misha explained after thinking for minute.

"Cas isn't responsible though, if the brothers had talked with Cas and made him feel more at home, maybe he wouldn't have done that", Jared said and Jensen agreed.

"The funny thing in the end of season 15 is when Cas says the one thing he want is something he can't have, Dean had told Cas years before that he'd rather have him cursed or not, they didn't need words, but like Jared said sometimes I wished they did talk", Jensen said for another question and all awed.

Misha took his hand in his, "That's why we talk no matter what", Misha said and Jensen smiled, "Exactly", he said.

The crowd cheered softly, not the wild kind from earlier, but the warm kind — the kind that wrapped around the stage like a blanket. Jensen gave Misha's hand a small squeeze, and Misha squeezed back.

"No matter what, we keep talking—just like we always have," Jensen said quietly, his voice steady and sure.

Misha leaned in, resting his forehead gently against Jensen's shoulder, the noise from the crowd faded into a soft hum, the world shrinking until it was just the two of them on that stage, sharing a quiet moment of truth and love.

Jensen whispered, "Always."

And in that stillness, surrounded by thousands, they found their own small forever.

Chapter Text

There are two types of relationship, Sam and Cas, Jared and Misha, no Dean and Cas and Jensen and Misha aren't different types, they are the same.

They are sickly in love, obsessed with each other, the only thing different in their relationship is Jensen and Misha are married.

They have been in love since they met and married in 2014 with 4 kids now, but Jared and Misha and Sam and Cas are different.

The only thing they had in common was the respect for each other, just like Sam respected Cas Jared respects Misha, but he loves to fuck with Misha a lot more than that.

Sam has always believed in Angels, unlike Dean and was a little sad when Cas didn't see him as a believer but demon blood sucker.

But when they started understanding each other more, they became best friends, he trusted Cas and supported him more than Dean.

But that was only because Dean knew Cas and there were moments where Dean turned out to be right in Cas' cases.

But Jared and Misha, chaos incarnate together, but they answered questions more than Jensen and Misha.

They had come after a long flight to the newest con and all were dying to sleep, but they couldn't so they decided to change up the way they took the questions.

First Misha and Jensen would do their 40 minutes, then Jared would join and all three together for 30 minutes, then Misha would leave and the brothers would do it.

Then Misha would come back letting Jared go and Misha and Jensen would do one again together rather than their solo panel and finally Jensen and Jared would switch.

Then the others, Rob, Rich, Mark, Matt and Ruth and all would do their panel giving rest to these three.

"How did Cas fall in love with Dean and not Sam? I mean Sam always believed in Cas, he supported Cas more", said a fan.

"Well", Misha paused and looked at his husband and best friend, "Yes Misha, why?", Jared asked and Misha chuckled.

"It wasn't love at first sight, it was more like familiarity, a recognition, like 'oh hello, it's going to be you, game over'", he said and Jensen smiled fondly.

"Besides love should challenge you and Dean, heavens, he was a challenge for Cas, but that's what made Cas fall for him", he continued and Jensen blushed.

"But also the height difference is jarring", he said and all laughed, "Also, Cas saw through Dean and Dean for the first time in his life opened up to him, Cas really saw Dean", Jensen said and Misha blushed lightly at the intense of his husband's stare looking down.

"Dean really saw Cas too", Jared said and Misha looked at him surprised and smiled, they became friends quickly, all three did.

But Jared was the one who had compelled Misha to open up about his past and he can be stubborn.

So Misha had opened about it to him before his husband, because his husband even though wanted to know them he had respected Misha's wishes.

But Jared and Misha became closer best friends after that and Jared told Jensen those stories too, which led to Jensen and Misha being unofficially engaged for a year, then have West, then officially engaged, then have the twins girls, then married.

Jared was the happiest when they decided to get married and well rest is history, "Jared what made you mess with Misha the most?", another asked in their panel and Misha narrowed his eyes.

"He doesn't need a reason to be an asshole", Misha piped in making all laugh, "Well, I love him the most", Jared said and Misha smiled and hugged him.

After knowing Misha's past Jared had wanted to stop the teasing, but Misha told him that it was ok and he loved them and he would definitely tell him when it crossed a line.

Soon their panel also finished, they were done for the day, they went to the green room to see Jensen sleeping on the uncomfortable couch.

But he was too tired to be bothered, so Misha slowly lifted his head and sat down laying his husband's head on his lap.

Jensen smiled comfortably in his sleep and turned burying his head in Misha's stomach who smiled softly and waded his fingers through his soft locks.

Jared bought him coffee and sat on the opposite couch and they talked for sometime, "So West's fifteenth is coming up in a week", he said and Misha nodded not taking his hand away from his husband's hair.

"Any planning?", Jared asked, "You have to help", Misha said, "What?", Jared asked, "West told me last week he doesn't want a big party, he want to donate that money to charity and have a small get together with your kids, that's it", Misha explained.

"That's great isn't it, he's exactly like you", Jared said and Misha narrowed his eyes, "That is given as he is mine, but no, Jensen wants to celebrate big and I haven't told him", Misha said.

"So tell him", Jared said, "Oh really why haven't I thought that? Hmm... have you been living under a rock or something, you fucking idiot? You know we had West after 2 years of trying with different people and failing thrice also, he is not just our first baby, he is our miracle baby", Misha explained.

"And after having him we had a crazy luck in our life, we moved houses, then we quickly had JJ and Maison, got married and had Zepp too", Jensen said from Misha's lap without opening his eyes and the other two sighed.

"You weren't sleeping", Jared said, "I was, I just woke up a minute ago", Jensen said opening his eyes and looking up at his husband.

"How long was I sleeping?", Jensen asked not moving as he loved Misha's fingers in his hair, "2 hours, maybe more", Misha said and Jensen nodded and got up.

"How much did you hear?", Misha asked getting up and walking behind his husband to the sink, "Everything about West's birthday", Jensen said washing his face.

Misha stood by the doorway and Jared joined them, "So?", he asked, "We can give to charity I'm happy for that, but he will be having a party, he should enjoy with his friends", Jensen declared.

"Jen honey", Misha started, "Nope sorry baby", Jensen said, "You know what? You and your son talk it out, you can't talk to each other, because you know how he can convince you easily and vice versa, so you use me as a mediator, idiots", Misha said and stormed away.

Jared and Jensen looked at each other, "Well he is the tough one with the kids", Jensen said shrugging and Jared rolled his eyes.

Jared shook his head with a grin, "You two really do need a referee", he said and Jensen glanced toward the doorway where Misha had disappeared, a soft smile tugging at his lips. 

"Nah, I just need someone to bring me coffee", he said and from down the hall came Misha's voice, dry but fond, "And cake. For the small party", he shouted having already decided how he is gonna solve his husband and son's problem.

Jensen chuckled, "God, I love him", he murmured to himself and Jared chuckled both walking to where Misha was.

A beat later, Misha reappeared with a blanket, tossed it at Jensen, and said, "You still look tired", he said.

"Yeah," Jensen said, catching it easily, eyes still on his husband, Jared smirked, "Mediator, huh? Guess you married the boss", he said as the two sat down.

"Best decision I ever made", Jensen said so smitten in love and Misha shook his head, smiling despite himself, "Flattery won't get you a big party, Jen", he said sitting next to his husband.

"Worth a shot," Jensen replied, pulling the blanket over his lap and cuddling into his husband and Jared chuckled and winked at Misha, who smiled.

Chapter Text

Seventeen years, endless moments, and a love that speaks without words — timeless, unbroken, and theirs alone....

Jealousy was an ugly thing and ever since Jensen and Misha had started dating back in 2009, it had been the third person in their relationship.

It has been not bad, they loved the jealousy part of their relationship, because it created major milestones for them.

Then there is riling up or the teasing which Jensen loved doing, jealousy and teasing was what made Jensen realize he had a sub side and loved Misha's dom side.

But whatever the teasing and jealousy is, Jensen can never imagine a life without Misha, he can't even muster his courage to think that.

The first time the teasing happened was when, they had just started dating and it was the My Bloody Valentine episode where Jared was constantly fucking with Misha's shot.

Jensen knew Misha had a long day after Gish and all, but he had acted like helping Mish and ended up with messing his shot.

The anger, frustration and heat that had risen in Misha's eyes after that had made Jensen gulp and his stomach drop in thrill and when they went home, they had the most dominant, rough sex ever and Jensen loved that side of Misha and always tried teasing him.

But that point had strengthened their relationship more, and soon enough, there would be a second time — this one tangled with jealousy as well.

The second time came on stage. Jensen and Jared were doing their usual bit when Jared threw out a few pointed jokes about Misha, Misha, never one to back down, jumped in with Rob and Rich at his side.

What started as playful banter quickly turned into a roast, Jensen watched, half amused, half captivated. 

He couldn't help the way his chest warmed every time he looked at Misha — God, he was just so damn in love with him.

"I have some takes that take about 45 minutes or 1 hour, it is very efficient", Misha had said throwing the writers under the bus and all had laughed.

But Misha winked at Rich and Rob who understood it well and Jensen had felt jealousy flaring at the pit of his stomach.

He trusts Misha, hell, even if he ever walked in on Misha with someone else, Jensen knew he'd first want to understand why. Was he drunk? Drugged? Hurt? That was the depth of his trust, the unshakable faith they had in each other.

But trust didn't stop the flare of possessiveness, watching Misha flirt his way through the teasing with that glint in his eye made Jensen's pulse race — not with doubt, but with desire.

That night at their home Jensen had been dismissive when Misha tried talking with him...

"What's wrong with you?", Misha asked and Jensen looked at him and went to their room without responding.

"Jensen I was talking to you, don't walk away like that", he said his dominant side coming out, but Jensen didn't take head.

The next moment, his back hit the wall hard, a gasp tearing from his throat, his body arched instinctively with pleasure as Misha pinned his wrists above his head, with his other hand, Misha forced Jensen's chin up until their eyes locked.

"Answer me baby", he whispered rough and demanding, "I don't like you flirting with anyone else", Jensen replied.

"What?", Misha was confused for a second before understanding, "Baby, you know I am yours right? Only yours", he said his voice and eyes softening for a second and Jensen looked deep into the blue eyes.

"Prove it", he said and something shifted instantly, Misha's gaze darkened, heat sparking there, and Jensen braced himself for the kind of rough dominance he loved. 

But what followed was different — rough, yes, but threaded with an intimacy that undid him, Misha's hands were demanding, his body overwhelming, but his words were tender, soft promises and declarations that made Jensen's eyes sting with tears. 

"Marry me", Jensen said as they were coming down from their highs and Misha froze, shock flashing across his face, followed by something far more vulnerable, Jensen tugged him down and kissed him, hard, desperate.

"I mean it, I want this to be our forever, small fights and very long rough sex, I want to love you forever, I want to promise you forever", Jensen said and Misha's answer was a yes...

So yeah, the second time had led to their biggest milestone in their life, after that, the jealousy and teasing faded — not gone completely, but softened, with kids in the picture, their energy shifted.

Their love didn't weaken. If anything, it grew so strong it seeped into their work, it bled into their acting, into the way Jensen looked at Misha on-screen, until the fans themselves started to see it — Destiel, shipping, endless edits of glances that weren't scripted but real.

And that look... the way Jensen looked at Misha, it wasn't just love; it was reverence, hunger, devotion all wrapped together. A look that could break someone open. The kind of look that made fans cry because they wanted someone to look at them like that, just once.

Ps; The reason I keep on putting the way Jensen looks at Misha is because I want that *crying* it's so beautiful, I WANT THAT!!!!! I want someone to look at me like Jensen looks at Misha.

Seventeen years together, and still, the world didn't know, only their closest friends were in on the truth, and that secrecy left a hum of tension between them that never fully disappeared.

At their monthly panel, things started out the same as always — Jensen and Misha side by side, brushing hands, sharing private smiles, exchanging glances that spoke volumes.

But then Misha peeled off his overshirt, revealing another one beneath — one Jensen had never seen before. 

His brain short-circuited at how good Misha looked, fuck he was so turned on and he couldn't even touch his husband.

How could a pink shirt look so good on his husband, Jensen was sweating so much from heat that he felt like he would melt at his husband's hotness.

Misha looked devastating. The cut of the fabric, the way the buttons dipped low, the sharp lines of his hips flashing every time he moved — Jensen was a goner. He couldn't focus on the fans, couldn't find words for the questions. His entire body hummed with need, locked in place by the cruel fact that he couldn't touch his husband.

"So this shirt is for auction and the highest bidder gets it", Misha said at point and that snapped Jensen out of his haze. No. That shirt isn't going anywhere, "Can I bid too?", he asked and Misha looked at him for a second and nodded.

Jensen waited till the last bid from fans and bid 500+ dollars more than that surprising everyone, "You sure?", Misha asked.

"Yeah come here for a second, I need to check the buttons and material, I don't want to be cheated", he lied but Misha rolled his eyes and stood in front of Jensen between his legs with his back to cameras.

Jensen checked shit... he ran his finger on Misha's chest, "Baby, fuck, you look so hot, I can't even form words, I want to touch you so bad", Jensen said his voice going so deep and out of words.

Misha smirked, "Well, thank you honey, but too bad you can't", he said, Misha had always wanted to tell fans but Jensen hadn't wanted, so Misha respected that.

"I am going to fuck you so raw and hard today, after the panel we are going to hotel room and you are gonna ride me with this shirt on, full and unprepped", Jensen said, he rarely talks dirty, but now his mind was coming up with those words only.

"And I am going to mark all the exposed part of yours while in this shirt", Jensen said acting like adjusting Misha's collar, but only touching his skin, sorry grazing Misha's neck with his nails.

"What else?", Misha asked his voice going so low, that it did things to Jensen, "You like this don't you? Me talking dirty?", Jensen asked.

"Oh yes, you usually don't talk things like this and if I'm making you to talk only dirty talk suddenly, that's a big accomplishment", Misha said.

"I mean it, I am going to fuck you so raw and so, so many times, you are gonna have multiple orgasms, that's a promise", Jensen said his hand trailing towards Misha's hip.

Misha's eyes darkened at that, "We have photo ops", he whispered his voice hoarse, "And another half hour — maybe forty minutes — left in this panel", he said.

"Ok that's it", Jensen said getting up, with his one hand on Misha's bicep, gripping him tight, "Ok, I have an announcement", he said.

"I'm not married to some women, nor is Misha", he started and Misha's eyes widened and he kept his hand on Jensen's chest, this was taking a very different direction to what he was thinking.

"Jen what are you doing?", he asked, he was just teasing, "Shh", Jensen said, "He is my husband and we have kids together", he said.

"I usually wouldn't tell this, I like to keep my family private, But look at him—" Jensen pointed, voice breaking with both love and frustration. 

"Look at how you all drool over him and I can't touch him. Being his legal husband and having to pretend... it's torture, so", he said keeping his mic on the chair.

Then he grabbed Misha's waist, yanking him close, and kissed him. Hard. Dipping him low, claiming him.

Misha let out a surprised chuckle against his mouth — but then he melted into it, arms looping around Jensen's neck, deepening the kiss until there was no mistaking it.

The fans who were trying to get all the information in, broke into cheers and Jensen didn't care if anyone hated what he did, because he loved his husband more than that.

They pulled away, Misha holding onto Jensen, a little dazed and definitely with a bruised lip, "One more thing, I will be very very handsy today, if you don't like it, please feel free to leave", Jensen said holding Misha's waist possessively and he blushed.

The questions continued, all now taking pictures and squealing in joy, but Jensen's hand was always on Misha's body as promised.

Misha stood holding the back of his chair as Jensen slipped in behind him, wrapping his arms around Misha's waist and pressing his chest to his back, he rested his head on Misha's shoulder, inhaling deeply.

The audience gasped. It was breathtaking — two people fitting together so naturally, effortlessly. Front-row fans with high-quality cameras quickly snapped pictures, capturing the moment forever.

Misha's cheeks warmed. He loved this side of Jensen — protective, possessive, utterly in love. He leaned back, resting his head atop Jensen's, and let himself melt into the embrace.

Soon Rob and Rich joined them, but Jensen never took his hand away from Misha's waist, rubbing small circles on his hip, Misha felt a flush of heat and a shiver of desire — Jensen's touch was electrifying.

"Dude, keep your hands to yourself, we are here", Rich said but he had a fond smile on his face, "I don't care", Jensen said his grip tightening on Misha.

"Idiots, but you really are looking very very hot Mish", Rob said and Misha untangled himself from Jensen purposefully and hugged Rob, "Thank you Rob", he said and felt himself pulled away by his husband.

"Thank you, but mine", Jensen said and Misha smiled, Rob raised his hand, "I have a song for you two, Jensen care to join me?", Rob asked and whispered to Jensen who smiled and nodded.

Misha saw Jensen's look and held the mic for Jensen as Jensen wrapped his hands around Misha's waist pulling him in close.

Breathing the moment we are sending out a message
This love here for a second
Just to sentence in the story of us
The sentence in the story of us

They didn't sway, they didn't dance, just stood facing each other, looking deep into each other's eyes as Jensen's hands dug into Misha's waist.

Your hand in mine
We are burning like two flickering lights
I'll pass this moment
We are flying through the days and the nights
Flying through the days and the nights
I'm trying to keep
This image I see
I know we can't stay there
But still I believe
That this you and me
Will always be somewhere'
Cause I swear

This was a bloody promise from both of them and they knew it, it was a promise, made silently in their hearts, and they both knew it — deep in their bones, a vow of forever, as they memorized each other's face.

That when forever fades into a memory
Nothing will ever take
Take you away from me
This promise of mine
Is a promise in time

Even as time passes and moments become memories, their bond is unbreakable; nothing can ever separate them. Their love is a vow that will endure through all of life's changes.

And as we looking back
On who we used to be
With everything I have
I swear you'll always see
This promise of mine
Is a promise in time

Reflecting on their journey together, from young actors to life partners, they see how far they've come. Every choice, every struggle, reinforces the permanence of their commitment.

Dance 'til its over, 'til the morning breeze
The first ray of sun, just hold me close
You know the road we're on has only begun
The road we're on has only begun

Life with each other is a constant adventure. They treasured every fleeting moment — the quiet mornings, the playful nights — knowing there is so much more to experience together.

All the people we've become
And those we've yet to be somehow
I wanna show them just how beautiful you looking through my eyes right now
If they could look through my eyes somehow

They honor not only the growth they've achieved individually and as a couple but also the promise of future growth, Jensen saw Misha as eternally beautiful, and Misha saw Jensen with the same reverence.

A wish that others could understand the depth of their love as they experience it firsthand — the intimacy, the loyalty, and the intensity of their connection.

A moment of pure vulnerability hit Jensen, he stopped singing for a heartbeat, burying his face in Misha's shoulder, Misha was surprised but held him, steadying him with his warmth and calm.

Rob picked on the song, not stopping, knowing it was an emotional moment for them, Jensen let out a few tears, "Baby, what's wrong?", Misha asked trying to make Jensen face him, but Jensen stayed adamant without moving.

"I love you, I am so thankful to have you in this lifetime, but it's not enough, I want you as my love in all my lives, God, thank you so much, I love you so damn much, never leave me", Jensen whisper rambled in Misha's ears and Misha smiled.

"It's a promise, and I love you more", he said, "And thank you for showering me with love I have never experienced before", he said and Jensen kissed his neck and pulled away.

That when forever fades into a memory
Nothing will ever take
Take you away from me
This promise of mine
Is a promise in time

As Rob finished the final lines of the song, Misha wiped the tears from Jensen's cheeks and kissed him gently, sealing their promise in front of the crowd, the audience erupted in awe, witnessing a love that was raw, unguarded, and infinite.

Their hands clung to each other, bodies pressed close, yet not a word passed, time seemed to slow as their eyes locked, holding a conversation only they could hear.

All that needed to be said lived in the way Jensen looked at Misha, and the way Misha mirrored that same infinite love.

No words could match the love burning between them, fierce and tender, endless and true, Jensen's hands rested on Misha's waist; Misha's fingers traced his back.

In that silence, every promise, every memory, every tomorrow belonged entirely to each other, they didn't speak, and they didn't need to — their eyes had always said more than words ever could.

And for that moment, in the midst of the crowd and the music, the universe narrowed down to just the two of them, infinitely in love.

And damn that bloody shirt for making Jensen feel all these range of emotions at once...