Rock Salt And Feathers ~ Those Left Standing

Out Of The Wreckage By Starkiller
Home ~ Those Left Standing
Rating: NC-17 Disclaimer: I own nothing. I wish I did, but I don't. Summary: In the lull between battles, Dean and Castiel come to understand each other in more ways than one.
"We are each of us angels with only one wing, and we can only fly by embracing one another." - Lucretius. Dean's eyes hurt at the sudden change in light – from the brightness of Lucifer's rising to Chuck's dim lounge room in a single heartbeat, and his eyes are streaming tears. A quick look at his brother as he swipes at the tears with the back of his hand to make sure he's okay – and he is, thank god, he is - Dean turns back to check whose hands pulled them out of ground zero. Zachariah. Rage twists in Dean and before he even thinks about what he's doing, the murderous fury rising within him, he's punched Zachariah hard in the jaw. Even as the pain of hitting something as solid as a brick wall shoots through his arm, Dean is gratified – and surprised – to see the angel stagger backwards a few steps. "Now, Dean," says Zachariah. "Is that any way to say thank you?" "You...you..." Dean's rage has made him almost inarticulate, and he reaches out hungrily, wanting to wrap his hands around that smug bastard's throat and squeeze until the breath is gone, until Zachariah's eyes pop from their sockets. "Dean," Sam's hand restrains him, always Sam. As Dean turns to look at his brother, Sam bites his lip and points at the floor. "Oh fuck!" And now there's a new worry because Zachariah is smirking, and Chuck is clutching a bottle of Jack, and Sam's on the verge of tears and, and, and... Castiel is bleeding. Dean is on the floor and has Castiel in his arms before he can think. "What happened?" he growls out, and Chuck twists his hands in distress. "What the fuck happened?" "The Archangel came," Chuck says, his voice halting, and even through his distress, there is a note of wonder. "He was...beautiful. And he was angry. Oh God, so angry." Chuck closes his eyes in remembered horror and terror. "He wouldn't listen to me, well, not at first." In Dean's arms, Castiel coughs weakly, blood splashing from his lips. "He and Castiel fought," Chuck continues and his voice wavers. "Finally, I convinced him to listen to me. And then he...left." "He left Cas like this?" Dean is incredulous. Chuck nods. Sam looks horrified. And Zachariah smirks. Dean turns a raptor's glare on the angel. "If you don't help him, then I'm going to get Satan and hold you for him while he carves out your liver." Zachariah laughs, and Dean sees red. "You think I won't?" Dean gently lays Castiel back on the floor. "You think, you smug, self-righteous asshole, that I won't go to your enemy and make a deal? Because right now, buddy, he's looking a helluva lot more attractive a proposition than you are." Zachariah blinks and stares. He realises now that Dean is not bluffing and will make good on his threat. He shrugs. "I can't do anything, Dean." "Then why don't you fuck off?" Dean sneers at Zachariah. "I'll send up a prayer to heaven and let God know what you've done in His name, how you've destroyed His word on mercy and forgiveness. How's that sound?" Zachariah blinks again. "God has..." "Left the building, yeah you said. Doesn't mean He isn't around somewhere though, does it? Or hey, how 'bout I pray to His Son? Somehow, I don't think Jesus'd be too pleased with you either." "You wouldn't do that." Zachariah is all smiles again. "Oh, he would," Sam says then. "And so will I." "And me too," adds Chuck. "How 'bout we call back that Archangel, huh?" Dean presses the advantage he knows he has now and watches as Zachariah blanches. "Maybe if Chuck asks for Gabriel or Michael to drop by, they can pass Divine Judgement, seeing as they're second only to Jesus and God." Zachariah's expression has grown cold. "You stupid mortals," he sneers. "You don't know what you're doing. If Castiel dies because of his own folly and his own weakness for believing in you, then that is Castiel's path." Castiel is bleeding, and Dean can't bear to look at him. "Call up an Archangel," Sam says to Chuck. "Let's get this sorted out right now." Dean drops back to the floor as Chuck and Sam talk in quiet tones about how best to call down one of the most terrifying forces in the lore of all things supernatural. Castiel is breathing in short, shallow gasps, his chest heaving. His face is pale, too pale, and his eyes are glassy. "Cas," Dean whispers, pulling the angel into his arms. "Dean," Castiel replies, one bloodied hand reaching up to touch Dean's face. "You came back." "Yeah." Dean shoots an angry glare at Zachariah. "Got pulled back. At least that's one good thing he's done." Castiel doesn't spare Zachariah a glance. "I made him do it." Dean's rage rises again. "I really, really want to kill him." "Dean." Castiel coughs weakly, and Dean turns his full attention back to him. "I'm dying, Dean." "No. No, Cas, no. We'll get you fixed up, it'll be okay." Dean clutches Castiel closer. "You're not gonna die. I won't let you." Castiel smiles at that. "Your determination is touching." "You can't die, Cas," Dean whispers. "You're my angel. My angel. You can't fucking die!" "I have watched you all your life," Castiel says softly, and his lips are flecked with blood. "I am proud of you, Dean Winchester." "Cas..." "Of all God's creations, you are the one I love the most," Castiel whispers as his eyes fall closed. "No, no, Cas...Cas!" And Dean is crying, sobbing, and clutching Castiel's limp body to him. "Goddamnit!" And then Sam is there, warm and solid and reliable, and Dean looks at his brother through his tears as Sam places his hand over Castiel's. "He's still alive, Dean," Sam says quietly. "Only just, though." "Oh thank God..." "But if this doesn't work," Sam shrugs, and his expression is full of sorrow. "I don't know what the hell we're going to do." Dean nods. "We'll think of something, Sammy. We have to." Sam nods. "I'm calling Bobby while Chuck dials an Archangel." Dean nods again. "Okay." "Here." Sam holds out the bottle of Jack. "You need it." Dean looks gratefully at his brother. "Thanks, Sammy." Sam smiles sadly at him, then stands and moves into the hall to call Bobby. Dean takes a long drink and looks at the pale, blood-smeared face of his angel and ignores Zachariah glowering in the corner. The light is bright, but not so bright that he can't stand to look at it. There are three figures in the light, pale skinned and pale winged, and he can see their eyes are the colour of arctic ice – silvery blue rimmed with white. Their feet do not touch the ground as they approach and there is a sense of overwhelming presence, of power and majesty that makes Dean's head pound. Sam is staring at them, awe evident on his face. Chuck is staring at them, looking determined. And Zachariah is looking pissed. Good, thinks Dean as he strokes a shaking hand through Castiel's hair. "You called us, Prophet?" One of the figures speaks in a voice that sounds choral. Chuck bows, a jerky motion, and nods. "Y-yes, Gabriel. Castiel is dying, Sam and Dean managed to escape from where Lucifer was rising and Zachariah is being a pain in the ass." Dean suddenly wants to hug Chuck. Sam shoots him a quick grin and Dean grins back. The Archangel Gabriel regards Chuck solemnly, then looks to Sam and Dean and Castiel, then finally at Zachariah. "What would you have us do?" Gabriel sounds only mildly curious. Chuck stares, open-mouthed. "Do? Well, shit! Heal Castiel for one thing! And...I dunno, make Zachariah clean out toilets for the rest of eternity or something? Heaven's janitor?" Dean can't help himself – he laughs. Gabriel turns his gaze to Dean then, and Dean feels unbearably weak in the weight of that ice-blue gaze. "Dean, son of John," says the Archangel. "Is it your wish that Castiel be healed?" Dean nods. "Yeah. You guys and God sent him down here to protect me, and he hasn’t finished doing that!" Sam adds, "Dean gets into a lot of trouble, your worship." Gabriel looks at Sam and smiles then, and Dean can see his brother's wonder shining on Sam's face. "Be at peace, little one," the Archangel says gently. "You were not brought low by choice, but by deceit. All things are forgiven." "You can't do that," Zachariah splutters. "He drank tainted blood! Azazel poured his blood into him when he was a baby!" Gabriel's gaze locks onto Zachariah, and the room suddenly feels cold. "And how, brother Zachariah, would you have a helpless infant, unable to walk or speak, fight off one of our fallen brethren? Perhaps with a baby's rattle? Your words are unworthy of you and of your Circle." Zachariah goes pale and takes a step back. "And where were you during the battle, brother?" Another Archangel steps forward, holding a sword. The blade is a tongue of blue fire, carefully controlled -- but unleashed, Dean has no trouble believing that sword blade could level whole cities. "I was here," Zachariah answers. "Why did you not go earlier to bring the Winchesters from Lucifer's rising?" "I...I..." "We are displeased with you," the Archangel says, and Zachariah moans. "Forgive me, Michael..." "You must appeal to the whole of the First Circle of the Angelic Host for that," Michael says coolly. "You have twisted our Father's words to make them suit yourself rather than our Father's will. Go." Michael waves a hand and Zachariah is suddenly gone. "And so, to you, brother Castiel." Gabriel looks down at the angel that Dean holds close. A small, knowing smile crosses his eternal face as he looks from Dean to Castiel, and Dean wonders why he's suddenly blushing. "Raphael," Gabriel says to third Archangel, "see to our brother so that we may know his mind." The third Archangel steps forward and lays a finger on Castiel's forehead. After a moment, Castiel coughs and his eyes flutter open. He stares, eyes growing wide as he realises that along with the three humans are three Archangels. "Raphael..." "The hunters and the Prophet have placed a burden upon us," says Raphael. "A burden that we cannot ignore. So we look to you, brother Castiel, to know your heart on this matter. Do you wish death or do you wish salvation?" Castiel blinks. "Cas," Dean whispers, "Don't choose death." Castiel looks at Dean and smiles. "I am your angel, Dean, why would I choose death? As Sam said, you get into too much trouble without someone to watch over you." Raphael nods. "Then be healed, beloved brother." He places his hand on Castiel's cheek. "And rejoice." The light flares -- momentarily blinding but not crippling -- and when the comforting dimness of Chuck's lounge room returns, the Archangels are gone. "Wow," Sam says, awed. "Wow! Did you feel it?" "Yeah." Dean is just as awed. "That...they..." "Wow!" Chuck grins, a lopsided grin. "They're impressive." "Uh, yeah." Sam looks amazed. "And hey, they forgave you and all that," Chuck continues. "That's good news, isn’t it?" "You knew they'd do that," Sam accuses. Chuck blushes a little. "I am a prophet, Sam." Sam stares at him and then he laughs. He looks quickly at Dean and Castiel on the floor and draws Chuck away. "Let's give them a bit of space," he says, and Chuck nods. Dean's attention is fixed solely on Castiel. "You okay there, Cas?" Castiel smiles at him. "Yes. I am. And you, Dean, are you all right?" Dean nods. "It was touch and go for a bit there, but yeah. I'm good. Sammy's good. That bitch Ruby is finally dead, but Lucifer's up and about. Also. Archangels? I like 'em." Castiel laughs, and Dean can't help but grin. "You're only saying that because they agree with you." "Well, yeah." Dean gently smooths soft dark hair from Castiel's face. "You look like hell. We should get you cleaned up." "Are you sure you're all right?" "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" Castiel sighs ruefully. "Because I have learned that things aren't all right with you unless you're yelling at me, Dean." Dean feels a pang of guilt at that. "Sorry," he says quietly. "I just...every time we see you, it's been a do-or-die moment. I'm usually kinda stressed by those. I don't mean to yell at you all the time. Next time you drop by, pick a moment when we're not dealing with the end of the world." "I'll try and remember that." Castiel sits up. "I need to fly." Dean's mouth forms a perfect 'O' of surprise. "You..." "I need to stretch my wings." Castiel rolls his shoulders, and Dean can hear the flutter of great feathers, similar to a bird of prey – a vulture or an eagle -- rustling. "Woah." The look Castiel turns on Dean at that point can only be called coy. He holds out a hand. "Fly with me, Dean." He doesn't think twice as he takes Castiel's hand in his own. "Be back in a bit, Sammy," Dean calls out as his fingers curl around Castiel's, and then they're in the sky, and large black, grey and white feathers surround him. "Hold onto me," Castiel whispers, and Dean is only too happy to oblige. Those powerful wings flap and they soar upwards, catch a warm updraft and lazily circle higher and higher. "This is better than sex!" Dean yells, and Castiel laughs and wraps his arms around him as they fly together. And because Castiel is holding him so close, because his arms are wrapped around the angel's shoulders, Dean buries his face in the crook of the angel's neck and just breathes, inhaling the scent of him. Castiel smells like honey and exotic spices, of wind-blown sand, and he is warm to the touch. Without thinking, Dean presses a kiss to the pulse point in Castiel's neck and smiles as he feels Castiel shiver in response. "Can I touch your wings?" Castiel nods. "Yes." Dean slowly slides a hand down to the wing joint, feeling hard muscle and cartilage surrounded by soft, almost furry flesh. Wonderingly, he traces the joint between wing and back, then slides his hand slowly upwards, fingers trailing through those thick, strong feathers. "Wow," he whispers. Castiel carries them back to earth and Dean stares, unable – unwilling – to let go, one hand still caressing those feathers. "Dean?" Castiel is looking quizzically at him, but Dean can't stop touching those wings. "Cas." Dean reluctantly steps back, feeling as if he's lost something very important by breaking contact. "You like my wings?" "Oh yeah." Dean grins. "They're awesome. They feel...amazing." Castiel flaps them once, gives them a little shake and then folds them back, where they fade from sight. "I have not shown a human my wings in...millennia." "I really like 'em," Dean says, and then blushes a little. "So. Lucifer." Castiel grows serious. "He is free. I know. We all felt him rise. I saw you kill Ruby. You did well." "Yeah, well, pity I couldn't do it sooner," Dean scowls. "I have to have a long talk with my brother about that." "It was not his fault." Castiel shakes his head. "She was beguiling, Dean. Sam believed her because he hoped she was right. He hoped he could do good. His intent was right and pure, and that is what the Archangels saw, not what he did. They saw his regret and that he truly repents, and he is not considered to be evil." "The rest of the angels won't like that, though, will they?" Dean feels old then, tired and weary. "Probably not. But they can't do much about it. I imagine that the Archangels will use Zachariah as an object lesson." And is that a touch of satisfaction Dean can hear? "Cas – when you went back into Jimmy, what happened to you upstairs?" Castiel sighs. "I was made to see the error of my ways." "They tortured you?" Dean again wants to throttle Zachariah. "In a manner of speaking." Castiel looks away. "My feathers...there are fewer white ones now." "Fuck!" Dean shakes his head. "Are you okay?" Castiel nods. "Now, yes." And Dean feels such great relief that he pulls Castiel into a tight hug, and whispers, "Don't you dare let them drag you away again, d'you hear me? Don't you fucking dare!" Awkwardly, Castiel pats Dean's back. "I will do my best." "Okay." Dean pulls back so he can look at Castiel's face -- that pale, beautiful face, with those deep, emotive blue eyes that always transfix him. He's so relieved to be safe, to have Sam back, to see Castiel, that he leans in and kisses him. Castiel doesn't respond, not at first. Dean freezes, thinking, Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!, but the next thing he knows, Castiel is responding, shyly, tentatively. Gently, Dean cups Castiel's cheek with one hand, deepens the kiss and groans. He's suddenly rock hard in his jeans and wanting desperately, as Castiel kisses him back. Castiel's arms are around him and so are his wings and god, Dean wants more. Castiel breaks the kiss and gazes at Dean with absolute wonder in his eyes. "Dean," he whispers. "I...I'm sorry," Dean mutters. "I didn't..." "I did," Castiel says firmly. Dean wants to kiss him again, but he manages to stop himself, asking, "Won't you get into shit for this?" "Things...have changed," Castiel says slowly. "Once, yes. I would have been cast out and I would have Fallen, as did my brethren who fell in love with mortal women not long after the world was made and humanity was cast from the Garden of Eden. But now...things have changed." He shrugs slightly. "I cannot say more than that." Dean digests that for a moment, wondering just how many angels around the world have developed un-angelic feelings for the humans they watch. "Okay." Then he leans in again and kisses Castiel, hungrier this time, more desperately. Castiel makes a noise low in his throat, pulling Dean close and Dean groans, hungry for anything the angel will give him. His fingers thread through thick, dark hair and down Castiel's neck, then to his shoulder blades -- the spot where he knows the angel's wings are. "Bed," Dean pants as Castiel relinquishes his mouth and kisses his neck. "Oh fuck! Cas!" The next minute they're in a room, and Dean doesn't care where they are, because Castiel is kissing him again and it's bliss, it's benediction, it's perfect and he doesn't ever want to stop. He mewls hungrily into Castiel's mouth, fingers shoving at the trench coat, then at Castiel's jacket. He whines as Castiel pushes him back, then grins as the angel's hands go to his own clothes. "God, Cas," Dean gasps, eyes dark with hunger, "I..." Castiel pulls Dean close again, and Dean realises belatedly that their shirts are gone and they're bare chest to bare chest. He groans, hands roaming over Castiel's torso, his cock twitching in his jeans, and the groan turns into a loud cry of needy pleasure as he feels the tip of a wing feather dip beneath the waistband of his jeans. "God...more...please..." Dean begs, and if this was anyone else, he'd be annoyed at himself for how desperate he sounds, but this is Castiel, and he's wanted this for so long that he doesn't care. He can't help but rub against the angel and is gratified when Castiel moans in response. "Take off your clothes," Castiel whispers, and Dean hurries to obey, kicking his clothing aside and standing naked in front of Castiel's gaze. Castiel stares. Confronted with the fully naked Dean, his scar-marked chest, his gaze travels lower, pausing as he sees Dean's cock, hard and leaking. Dean watches as Castiel's gaze becomes hungry, full of desire. He blinks and his trousers are gone, along with shoes and socks and he reaches out, lightly touching Dean's cock. The careful, exploring fingers are followed by his wings, feathers sliding oh-so-slowly over Dean's hardness. "Beautiful," Castiel whispers, awe in his voice. Dean shivers as those fingers touch him, followed by the wings. God, the freakin' wings! He wants more, still more, knowing he can never get enough of this, as he moans, a sound that could be Castiel's name. He reaches for Castiel, pulls him close and kisses him again, moaning loudly as his cock presses against Castiel's own. Castiel's hands are moving, caressing him. Dean feels fire in his skin in the wake of each touch, each caress, and holy shit, could anything, ever, feel as good as this? Castiel applies himself to the task thoroughly kissing Dean, one hand back on his cock, the other sliding around to grip his ass and pull him close. "Dean..." Castiel groans into Dean's mouth, want and desire in his voice. Dean stumbles back, pulling Castiel with him until he hits the bed, then he tugs Castiel as they fall in a tangle of limbs. He kisses Castiel with all the skill at his command, gasping and panting as Castiel kisses him back, as he feels the heat and desire flare between them. Castiel pulls back for a moment, gazing with such naked want in his eyes that Dean feels himself shatter in the sheer honesty of that look. "Cas?" Are you all right? The voice, Dean realises, is in his mind, and it sends a thrill through his body, hearing it. Castiel's mental voice is a mixture of that deep, rich tone he speaks out loud with and the resonating choral sound that Dean had heard when the Archangels spoke. "You're...you're in my head?" Dean blinks, amazed. Yes. Castiel smiles gently. When angels love, it is not just bodies. Don't talk, Dean. Think and I'll hear you. I will not read your thoughts, I will hear only those you wish me to. Castiel's hands are moving downwards as he kisses Dean gently, as if he's the most precious thing Castiel has ever touched, and his wings slide slowly down Dean's back to his ass then back up, then down again. There's a note of yearning in his mental voice, and Dean reaches up to stroke Castiel's hair. This is a bit weird, he admits, but I'll get used to it. He nuzzles the soft skin at the base of Castiel's throat, tongue darting out to lick at the hollow and smiles to himself as Castiel shivers and moans. I need you, Cas. I want you. Please... Wings brush over Dean's cock and balls and between his legs, and Dean feels his brain shot-circuit with pleasure as he comes hard from that soft touch. "Fuck!" he gasps out loud, panting, still wanting more. He pulls Castiel down for another kiss, spreads his legs and wraps them around the angel's hips and bucks up into him. Fuck me, Cas, he pleads. Please! The sound Castiel makes as Dean thinks to him is enough to make Dean's cock rock hard once more, and it's been a long, long time since Dean had the stamina of a horny teenager, but holy shit, this is Castiel, an angel, his angel, and he's about to be fucked by him. Castiel is hot and heavy on top of him, his mouth is sweet and soft against Dean's own, and Dean doesn't want anything else except this for the rest of his life. He realises then that he could actually be in love with Castiel and the thought terrifies him, even as Castiel kisses him, fingers sliding over Dean's body, eliciting responses that Dean had no idea he could ever give. The fear disappears however, as Dean feels Castiel settle between his legs and he grabs a pillow and shoves it beneath his hips as he feels Castiel's cock nudging against his hole. "Lube," he pants out, and Castiel smiles. I know. Dean doesn't really care where Castiel keeps lube, doesn't care if it's some sort of angelic magic lube, hell, doesn't care about much of anything then because the angel is slowly pressing into him in one long thrust and it's just too good. Dean arches, his head thrown back and cries out, his fingers scrabbling against pale skin and wings. "Cas!" Ohgod ohgod ohgod toogood sogood don'tstopdon'teverstop, a litany runs through his mind as Castiel slowly moves inside him. Dean's no inexperienced waif by any stretch of the imagination but this, oh god, this...he has no words for it. He's lost in a sea of sensation, of Castiel's hands, his wings, his lips as the angel kisses him, that hard, muscular body pinning him down as that cock spears him, fucks into him. There are no words now, only sensation and pleasure and Dean gives himself to Castiel eagerly, groaning loudly as Castiel wraps a hand around his cock and strokes in time to his thrusts. He knows he's close and can feel Castiel is too; the thrusts inside him speed up, grow harder, deeper and Dean clenches down each time Castiel is buried deep inside him. Castiel groans, his body shaking and then Dean feels himself filled as his angel orgasms. The thought is enough to send him over the edge, the sensations of it making him scream in sheer pleasure as he comes hard over Castiel's hand. Dazedly, Dean wonders if Sam might describe sex with an angel as transcendental, or some other really big word that could sound vaguely naughty if said with the right inflection. He doesn't really care, he realises as Castiel snuggles close, kissing his neck slowly, soft lips travelling up towards his jaw. He's just had sex – mind-blowing, incredible sex – with an angel, and it's the best sex he's ever had. "Are you okay, Dean?" Castiel looks at him, his blue eyes shining with a myriad of emotions. "More than okay," Dean whispers, his hands cupping Castiel's face. "You're still my angel?" "Always," Castiel says simply. Dean's smile is like the sun coming up. "Then I'm your guy, for whatever that's worth." Castiel smiles back. "It's worth more than you realise, Dean." "So," Bobby looks at the Winchesters and Chuck then at Castiel. "You got whammied by one Archangel and another angel, then three Archangels show up and fix him, and everything's okay now? Except it's not, 'cos Lucifer's out there, and Armageddon's started." He shakes his head. "What a damn mess." "That about sums it up," Sam says softly. "Though now we know the truth about Ruby...and Dean killed her." "Yeah, well. Small mercies." Bobby sighs. "No, don't beat yourself up about it, son. You didn't know." Sam shook his head. "I should have." "Plenty of time for guilt later, when this is over," Bobby says. "Right now, we gotta figure out what to do, how to fight." Sam nods. "Yeah." "Dean?" "Hm? Oh." Dean nods. "Yeah. Time to fight. Any ideas about what we should do first, Chuck?" The prophet frowns thoughtfully. "Not yet. I think this is a bit of a reprieve while Lucifer gathers his forces and decides what to strike out at first – humanity or heaven." Castiel's face is bleak. "My place is here," he says calmly. "Don't they need you in heaven?" Sam asks. "You both need to be protected," Castiel says quietly. "And that is my order. Protect you and Dean." Dean flicks a quick glance at Castiel. But you're still my angel, right? Castiel's expression doesn't change. Yes. I'm always your angel, Dean. Okay, good. "I guess I'll start makin' calls," Bobby is saying. "Start getting people together. Then we can work out what to do and where." "Sounds like a plan," Sam agrees. "I'll help." The two of them move into the dining room adjacent to the lounge room. Chuck looks at Dean and Castiel then towards Bobby and Sam who are deep in quiet conversation. Then he shrugs and moves to the desk and sits at his computer and closes his eyes, waiting for the word of God to come to him. Castiel moves to Dean, brushes his hand lightly with his own. "Even if you do not see me," he says softly, "don't assume I am not with you." Dean nods. "And if I can't see you and I need you, will you come?" Castiel nods, and Dean reaches up to touch his cheek. "Thanks, Cas." "I'll be back soon," the angel says. "I need to get some time alone with you," Dean whispers, loud enough for Castiel's ears only. Castiel smiles brightly. You will. I promise. Dean smiles back and there's a flicker of a breeze and Castiel is gone. With a sigh, Dean squares his shoulders and heads into the dining room to help his brother and Bobby with the first part of planning the forthcoming battles. He smiles to himself as he feels the faint, phantom touch of a press of lips against the back of his neck and the brush of feathers against his cheek and knows that Castiel will be back. For all that the world is on the brink of ending, Dean has never been so happy in his entire life – with his family, his car and now, his angel. "You okay, son?" Bobby looks at Dean, concern on his face. Dean grins at him then grins at Sam. "I'm good. C'mon, let's get started."
We do not claim to own any of the stories listed on this site. All plots belong to the authors and all characters belong to their respective creators. For more disclaims and credits please visit this page here.