Angelic Big Bang, SPN, "Taking Ten Steps Home" Part 10/10
Title: Taking Ten Steps Home
Fandom: SPN
Genre: Romance/Angst/Character-centric
Characters/Pairings: Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Crowley, Bobby Singer, Leviathans; Dean/Castiel
Word Count: 10,279
Rating: R for frottage in the back of the Impala
Spoilers: 7x01, 7x02
Notes: Breaks from canon after the first few minutes of 7x02.
Beta: skylar_matthews
Summary: Castiel swore he'd find a way to redeem himself to Dean. This is how the story goes.
Ten:
Castiel hates this. It’s rare, but it always makes him feel helpless.
They’ve won the battle - they’ve destroyed the Leviathans at great cost to themselves. Castiel is drained, and will remain so for a very long time. His last angelic act had been a desperate bid at keeping Dean from dying. Sam has a badly broken arm. Bobby managed to come away fairly unscathed, if only because he’d been sniping Leviathans from a distance.
Crowley, being Crowley, has gone back to Hell in order to go set right his affairs before things descend into anarchy in his absence. Castiel will admit he is not sorry to see him go.
But Dean, Dean is unconscious - nearly comatose.
Castiel and Sam sit at his bedside, and Bobby would be leaning on the counter, but has been outside for a minute or so. He leaves the motel room every now and then to take a call; the whole world’s population of Hunters appears to be aware that the menace of the Leviathans has been ended, and who better than to provide them with information than Bobby Singer, who is the information hub when it comes to apocalypses - after all, he even is said to know the notorious Winchesters.
Dean has not moved - except the rise and fall of his chest that lets them know he’s still breathing - for nearly twenty-four hours. Every moment has been excruciating for all involved (with Dean as a possible exception, given that he is the one currently unconscious), and, more than once Castiel has looked over at Sam and seen him on the edge of tears.
Castiel has no tears to cry - he is beyond exhausted, beyond the limits of his Grace and his vessel both. He is incapable of tears, and stares dully at Dean, waiting.
He is not sure what he is waiting for. He wonders if the clumsy, desperate stretching of his Grace in the eleventh hour has done anything for Dean. Everyone must die, he knows, and he wonders if maybe he has been mistaken - if it would have been kinder to let him go.
His whole being aches and grieves and is on the edge of shattering.
With considerable effort, he reaches out to find the handprint with his fingertips, remembering the only other times he’s touched it in startling clarity.
He cannot speak as the images and impressions flood through him. The first moment in Hell, when the Righteous Man turned to him with blood on his scalpel - Castiel remembers, even if he’s made sure that Dean never will - and the first touch; and then, much more recently, the first time Castiel gave in to his feelings of lust as well as love - his hand on bare skin rather than bare soul that time, but just as potent, just as true.
He has known since the first touch that he is Dean’s. He was not the only angel to storm Hell that day, but he is the angel who pulled Dean out of Hell and proceeded to love him.
“I’m okay with it,” Sam says, his hoarse voice making Castiel jump. He turns his head to look, and Sam continues. “If you and him are, you know.”
“I don’t know what we are,” Castiel replies. “I’ve never had the chance to ask.”
Sam nods. “But I think it’s not just a one-night thing. Dean cares too much about you for it to be like that.” He snorts a little. “And you’ve been obvious from day one. He’s just oblivious.”
Castiel gives him a watery smile. “Have I?”
“Yeah. The whole falling from the Host and protecting him from archangels at the cost of your life kind of made it obvious.” Sam nudges his shoulder. “And then it just sort of spiraled out from there.”
There’s a shift under Castiel’s hand, and Castiel’s attention snaps back to Dean.
Dean is stirring, and Castiel’s heart starts pounding, and he hardly dares to hope that Dean might be okay, that Castiel hasn’t ruined everything for the final time.
Dean groans and his hand come up to catch Castiel’s.
“Dean,” Castiel whispers, in awe.
“Cas,” comes the scratchy answer, accompanied by a reassuring squeeze. “Are we dead?”
“No, we’re not,” Sam answers for him, and Castiel is thankful - he’s sure he cannot form a sentence, or even words other than Dean’s name right now.
Dean nods, eyes still shut. “Hey Sammy.”
“Cas saved you,” Sam murmurs, his eyes flicking toward Castiel with a soft go on that Castiel doesn’t understand.
“Course he did. ‘S always Cas. Or you. B’mostly Cas.” There’s a long moment of quiet where Dean gets back his breath. His hand tightens on Castiel’s again, and Castiel is completely frozen - this soft fondness is more than he could have ever hoped for, if he’d ever dared to hope at all. “Cas.”
“Yes?” he manages, his voice too small.
“Sammy ever tell you the story of Sleeping Beauty?”
Sam snorts undignifiedly, breaking into peals of laughter. It seems just a little bit hysterical -- but then, this kind of non-sequitir is so absolutely Dean that it brings it home that Dean's going to be okay.
And yes, Castiel knows the story of Sleeping Beauty, how she was awakened by the kiss of her true love - at least, in the less gory version - after sleeping for a century. It takes him a moment to remember, and another to realize what Dean just might be getting at. When he does, he can’t quite believe it. If he understands what Dean is trying to tell him…Well, there’s only one way to find out.
“I’m aware of the story.”
“Well,” Dean mumbles, “I ain’t no princess, but…”
Castiel thinks his vessel’s heart might well burst.
As he leans down to grant the request Dean hasn’t quite made, he realizes that this is better than the kisses in the back of the Impala, because this - this is a true confession. And this is what it means:
Castiel is finally home.
fin