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Castiel is alive. He feels in the marrow of his bones that it’s God, his father that returned him. He fits himself back into his vessel and returns to a bloody, broken Dean.
He’s kneeling and Castiel ignores the flutter in his stomach at the sight. Dean turns and looks up at Cas, big green eyes full of faith. It amazes Cas the amount of faith that Dean Winchester has.
He leans down slightly and heals Dean with his fingers, light like a forehead kiss. Dean stands up shakily.
“Cas… are you God?”
The heart Castiel isn’t supposed to have beats and floods along with the words. It makes Cas’ mouth quirk up.
“That’s a nice compliment, Dean, but no.”
Castiel can’t help but think the look on Dean’s face is disappointment.
— —
Castiel won. He was beginning to believe that maybe it wasn’t worth it, maybe he lost the Winchesters for nothing. He knows now he was wrong to second guess himself.
The souls are inside him, flowing in his veins. There’s a power thrumming against his bones, against his grace.
Dean is here and even though he betrayed Cas, he still can’t shake those feelings. Those feelings have followed Cas since he raised Dean from hell.
He looks over at him and he thinks I wanna devour you like I devoured the souls. I want you inside me.
Raphael and Crowley are circling him and he couldn’t care less. Crowley disappears and Cas lets him leave. He has plans for Crowley later.
Dean always says it’s better to have a devil you know. The Winchesters canoodle with a lot of devils, but Castiel was never one to judge.
He looks over at Raphael, whose vessel has fear written across their face. It makes Castiel smirk.
“Now, what's the matter, Raphael? Somebody clip your wings?”
Cas has never been one to brag, but he feels now is an acceptable time. He feels good, undeniably.
“Castiel, please. You let the demon go, but not your own brother?”
Raphael kicked him down just because Cas didn’t wanna follow them. Cas shakes his head, righteously indignant.
“The demon I have plans for. You on the other hand...”
Castiel snaps and Raphael is smeared across the wall, the floor. He shifts, the souls moving against his rib cage.
He turns toward Dean. Bobby’s there too, but Cas doesn’t really have anything to say to him. He only wants to talk to Dean.
“So, you see, I saved you.”
Dean looks at him and swallows. It makes Cas want to squirm, that wide-eyed gaze.
“Yeah, Cas. You did.” Cas knows he’s better than it, but the words reign in his heart.
“You doubted me, fought against me, but I was right all along.”
He says. He wants so desperately for Dean to say sorry, to get on his knees, and beg for forgiveness. Cas would pet his hair and slip his hand against Dean’s cheek. He would forgive him and Dean could come with him.
“Yeah, we’re sorry, Cas. Now let’s defuse you, okay?”
That’s not what Cas wanted to hear. There’s an ache in his chest, underneath the souls. He looks at Dean and tilts his head. Dean looks shattered.
“What do you mean?”
“You're full of nuke. It's not safe. So, before the eclipse ends, let's get those souls back to where they belong.”
Cas shakes his head. Dean doesn’t understand. Of course he doesn’t.
“They belong with me.” It’s obvious, it’s inevitable.
“Cas, it’s scrambling your brain.”
Cas squints his eyes and holds back his anger.
“No, I'm not finished yet. Raphael had many followers, and I must punish them all severely. Surely you understand, Dean.”
He wants Dean to understand. Maybe he can…
“Yeah, no, I get it, Cas, but you need to listen to me. I know there’s… a lot of bad water under the bridge, but we were family once. I'd have died for you,”
Maybe he would’ve, but Cas can’t help but not believe him. Dean always had a funny way of showing loyalty.
“I almost did a few times. So if that means anything to you... please. I've lost Lisa, I've lost Ben, and now I've lost Sam. Don't make me lose you too.”
Dean begs. Cas smiles at him, softening for his righteous man.
“I’m right here, Dean.”
Sam moves behind him, attempting to be quiet and then he stabs him in the back straight through. How poetic.
Cas blinks and looks down, pulls the blade out effortlessly. It’s isn’t a surprise. The Winchesters are always throwing blades where they don’t belong.
“I’m glad you made it, Sam. But the angel blade won't work, because I'm not an angel anymore.”
Everyone steps back except for Dean and it makes Cas’ grace sing. He can never resist Dean. Maybe that’s what got him in this situation to begin with.
“I'm your new God. A better one. So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord. Or I shall destroy you.”
Sam and Bobby both kneel, but Dean doesn’t even move.
He looks over at Dean and Cas is shattered at the alter.
Always, always, always.
“Dean, always the faithless one.”
Dean looks scared, but Cas could never hurt him. He can’t even be mad.
“Cas…” Sam says behind him and Cas shakes his head. He applauds the brotherly love, but it isn’t needed.
“Sam, you have nothing to say to me, you stabbed me in the back.”
Sam looks back down at the floor and Cas walks to Dean, hands itching to touch. He brings his hand up to Dean’s face hesitantly and something reverent spreads through his ribs when he leans into him like a lifeline.
“I worship you, Dean, and it makes no sense. What a puny little thing you are in my whole grand existence and yet…”
Cas lets his fingertips drag down his jaw and Dean holds back from following.
“Cas, please…”
Dean whispers, a forever plea. Cas trails his thumb along Dean’s lips and desire builds in the bottom of his stomach. Cas feels something righteous in his gut and he smiles, wide and true.
“You really thought you’d be so happy with Lisa, huh? A nice midwestern girl? No way, baby. I’m it. ”
Dean makes a face of almost agony. There Cas goes again, bringing Dean’s truth to the surface. He can’t believe he never saw it before, with the way Dean ached for him every night.
Cas walks over to Sam and puts two fingers on his forehead, putting the wall back up. He can’t have Dean if he doesn’t fix Sam. He wants Dean with him, by his side. Dean’s the one being unarguable.
“I did that for you, as a gesture.” Cas looks over at Dean and fate swims in his green eyes.
“So what now?” Bobby pipes up. Cas looks over at him and his chin raises, proud.
“I do what I must. I’m God, after all.”
He will go fix heaven and reorder it to his liking, fix humanity like his father never did. If his father could see him now…
Cas looks over at Dean.
“I’ll see you around, Dean.”
— —
Castiel brings down unfaithful churches and fixes their stained glass windows with the updated picture. He rights wrongs and stands in a field bright of dead angels. The grass is blackened with wings and silver with dropped blades. It’s wreckage Cas takes revelation in.
He tries to resist Dean’s call, his prayers desperate and unspoken, but it’s futile. He ends up in Dean’s garage, the sun setting behind him.
Dean’s working on the Impala, one of his favorite pass times. It makes Cas feel nostalgic for simpler times. Times full of books and Dean’s voice like gravel in the night, full of jokes Cas never understood. Dean would laugh anyway and it made Cas feel like he belonged. Dean turns around.
“Hello, Dean.” Dean’s face softens.
“Heya, Cas.”
Castiel softens himself. He never wanted to lie to Dean, to shield him away. It hurt the very center of his being, but he had to. Dean looks back at the house.
“I’m not here for them.” Dean turns back to him and smiles. It’s strangely familiar, that smile.
“I know.”
Cas looks around. He’s surprised Dean didn’t set up a trap. Cas hopes like he never has before. He looks back at Dean.
“I don’t want to fight. I just wanted to… see you.”
“Really?”
The hope unfurling in Cas’ heart builds. Dean swallows, cheeks reddened. Cas feels that heat pool in his stomach and walks towards Dean, backing him against the Impala.
Cas brings his hands to Dean’s arms and travels them up his shoulders. Dean grips his waist, hand folding into the trench coat. He feels like heaven.
“Cas,” He says breathlessly. It sounds more like God. Cas brings his lips down and hovers them over Dean’s, so close.
“I wanna become one with you, Dean.”
Dean groans and Cas wants to consume the sound. Dean trails his hands up Cas’ chest, grips the labels of his trench coat. Dean’s breath stutters and Cas wants to bleed him dry.
Cas moves his hand to his neck, knuckles brushing his jaw. Cas wants to lick him all over and he thinks, what a strange thing to want.
He wants to shove Dean into the back of the Impala and get his hand on that freckled shoulder, spread his fingers across a misshaped handprint. He wants to hear Dean scream his name in that tone, the one full of worship. He wants his fingers inside-
Dean pushes him away suddenly. Cas tilts his head and Dean’s emerald eyes are glazed with heartache.
“Dean?” Cas questions because that’s all he can do.
Sometimes Cas feels he knows Dean better than he knows himself and sometimes he thinks he doesn’t know Dean at all.
Dean leans against a workbench in the corner, turned away from Cas. Always turned away. It’s a habit Cas wishes they would break.
“Cas, please…” Cas doesn’t know what he’s asking for.
“What?” Dean looks up at him and it’s agony the way he looks at him.
“I can’t.” Cas scoffs.
A Winchester that doesn’t know what he wants, what a surprise.
“More like you won’t. Don’t pretend like you don’t want this.”
Dean looks down at the ground and Cas knows he lost him. It breaks Cas’ impermissible heart.
Cas walks up in front of him and lifts their hands together. He delicately runs his fingers across Dean’s palm lines, cherishing him. He feels Dean watch his movements.
“Goodbye, Dean.” Cas flies away and it’s the hardest thing he’s has ever done.
— —
He watches Sam, Dean, and Bobby conspire against him. He’s no longer hurt. He’s getting mad, a fury like never before swimming in his head. He flies there and lands in a room full of glass.
“Amazing.” All eyes turn to him. Dean’s eyes flash with something, but it’s gone before Cas can figure it out. Cas doesn’t care anyway.
“I didn't want to kill you, but now...”
“You can’t kill us.”
Cas quirks his head. What a brave little thing. Dean almost blushes.
“Death is our bitch. We ain't gonna die, even if God pulls the trigger.”
Death looks over at him with a face like can you believe this?
“Annoying little protozoa, aren't they? God? You look awfully like a mutated angel to me. Your vessel's melting, you're going to explode.”
Cas shakes his head.
“No, I'm not. When I've finished my work, I'll repair myself.” Death looks all-knowing and Cas feels anger bubble in his gut, fire unmoving.
“You think you can because you think you're simply under the weight of all those souls, yes? But that's not the worst problem. There are things much older than souls in Purgatory, and you gulped those in, too.”
“Irrelevant. I control them.”
Cas controls everything. He’s God and he’s going to be better than his father ever was. Death explains the history of Leviathan and Cas lets him, the Winchesters taking in his every word.
“Enough.” Cas interrupts and walks forward, trench coat swaying with the draft of the room.
“Stupid little soldier you are.” Cas scowls.
“Why? Because I dared open a door that he shut? Where is he? I did a service, taking his place.”
Cas has always been here. Always . His father wasn’t even there at the almost end.
“Service? Settling petty vendettas?”
“No. I'm cleaning up one mess after another, selflessly.”
Castiel feels this is a stupid conversation.
“Quite the humanitarian,”
“And how would you know? What are you, really? A flyswatter?”
“Destined to swat you, I think.”
“Unless I take you first.” It’s almost human, the way he’s arguing with a cosmic deity.
“Really bought his own press, this one. Please, Cas. I know God, and you, sir, are no God.”
It feels dangerous, all the anger boiling in Cas’ veins. He opens his mouth to say something, to end it, but Dean interrupts him.
“All right, put your junk away, both of you. Look-“ Cas looks over at him, eyebrow raised.
“What, Dean? Are you going to tell him to kill me?”
Cas walks over to him and backs him against the wall. He smirks and Dean's eyes flash with want.
“Go ahead. I want them to hear you say it.”
Dean opens his mouth, but he hesitates. Cas knows he won. He places his hand on Dean’s face and Dean looks back at him defiantly. Cas lets his hand fall.
“That’s what I thought.” Cas snaps and clears Death’s chains. He looks back over at Dean and flies away. It’s probably better this way.
— —
There’s blood dripping from Cas’ fingers, eyes, his mouth. He’s drowning in it. There are bodies littered everywhere and they’re following him.
The souls are scratching against the inside of his skin. It’s horrific and he’s bathing in it. It smells like iron and it rots inside his nostrils.
He hears a voice, echoed into the back of his head, all too familiar. A voice he knows all too well. He flies there before he even realizes it. He collapses against the threshold.
“Cas?” Sam rushes into the kitchen, hackles raised. Cas looks at Dean, direct and desperate. He mutters words he never thought he’d say again.
“I heard your call. I need help.”
— —
“We need the right blood. There's a small jar, end of the hall, s-supply closet.”
Sam nods, eyes full of pity, and starts down the hallway.
“Dean?” Dean turns around, looks down at Cas’ huddled frame.
“What? You need something else?” Cas shakes his head and looks back at Dean, full of sorrow.
“No. I feel regret, about all I’ve said to you... all I’ve done.”
It’s a shame that runs deep in his marrow. It burns like hellfire when Dean looks at him. He turns back down the wall and Cas looks back down at the ground.
“Yeah, well, you should.”
It’s harsh and it’s probably kinder than Cas deserves. Dean moves a table over to the side and Cas watches his delicate movements.
“I’m sorry, Dean. I just wanted to make amends before I die.” Dean sighs and it breaks through Cas’ broken armor.
“Okay.” There’s something like hope growing in Cas’ spine.
“Is it working?”
Dean bites his lip and forgotten hunger pools in Cas’ stomach. He looks away.
“Does it make you feel better?” Not even slightly, he thinks.
Cas hesitates before he says, “No. You?”
“Not a bit.” They both look away and Dean finishes moving the tables. Bobby glances at his watch and taps Cas’ shoulder.
“Hang in there, Cas. Just a couple of minutes,”
Cas almost shrinks in on himself. Dean walks over to him and looks down the hallway.
“Where’s Sam? It’s go time.”
Dean shrugs and Bobby lets out a noise of annoyance as he jogs into the corridor Sam disappeared down. Dean looks down and the look on his face looks absolutely stricken. He’s surprised Dean’s here at all.
“Cas?”
His voice breaks and it’s almost unbearable to hear. Cas looks up at him and feels some misguided hope. He probably got it from Dean.
“Yes, Dean?”
He kneels in front of Cas, their knees knocking against each other. He clutches his dirty trench coat in his hands and stares down at the ground.
“I worship you, too.” It’s a bombshell, as the humans would say. It’s whispered like sweet nothings in the dark, like an unknowable secret.
Cas grips his wrist and pulls him forward. He’s never wanted to kiss Dean more than this moment.
“Dean…” He whimpers.
Dean’s right near his lips and its push and shove and then Dean falls into him, kissing him breathless. It’s a pleading kiss, something full of despair.
They pull apart the minute Bobby walks back in with the jar. Dean clears his throat and stands up. Cas feels loss like a cutaway limb.
“Where’s Sam?”
Dean asks and Bobby shrugs. Dean breathes in and shakes his head. Bobby passes him the jar and he draws the symbol with blood onto the wall.
“Good enough,” Bobby says and helps Cas up and places him in front of the wall. Cas feels like death and it takes everything in him to look back and say, “I’m sorry, Dean.”
The worst thing is that Dean will never know just how much. He just hopes he lives long enough to be forgiven.
— —
He drags off into a lake dripping black and he knows Dean’s better off without him.
— —
A handsome man is standing on his front porch, green eyes wide. He looks so familiar.
Emmanuel can’t put his finger on where he’s seen him. Instead of asking “Who are you?” or “Why are you here?” or “How do the stars have competition with your eyes?” he asks, “What was that?”
The guy looks down at him with an undeniable weight, something unwashed and emotional. He gets an unmovable feeling like maybe something wrong is about to be righted, that the universe will once again move when he looks up at him.