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aleisha-potter · 1 year

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I wrote a fic. It's not only canon compliant but also addresses recent developments in the Winchesters so spoilers.

Title: Nothing But Time

Pairing: Destiel

Rating: pretty PG just some swearwords

CW: internalized homophobia, cannon character deaths

In the days after Chuck was defeated, Sam was always waiting. Like clockwork, Dean sent up prayers to Jack already knowing they wouldn't be answered or he would have brought Cas back before he left.

Then came the research. Piles and piles of books on the tables in the library, left open at any mention of the Empty, of which there were very few, and those that were remaind brief and useless.

Sam helped, did as much as he could. Hell, he wanted Cas back just as much as anybody, except possibly the man sitting next to him, hunched over the table, whiskey glass in hand.

And the thing is, for all his heart was saying otherwise, for all he knew that they were practically Gods favourites in far better way now, Sam did still just a little bit believe that Cas would come home.

He always came home.

Jack loved them more than anything, could do practically anything, and yet Cas still wasn't home.

Sam of course saw that coming long before Dean did, but forcing Dean to the last stage of grief never ended well. So he stared blankly at books and looked up whatevers online, tried to find out if there was anyone or any being who even knew just the smallest thing about the Empty, knowing it was useless, and waited for Dean to catch up.

But then...

Dean seemed to regress, combining every single stage except the final one into one devastating spiral of destruction. Anger and bargaining, sadness and denial and so, so much anger.

The first time, Sam just let it happen. Hoped Dean could get it out of his system by destroying some furniture, tearing up some ancient tomes and yelling himself hoarse.

When he was done, when all the fight had left him, Dean slid down the wall and put his head in his hands.

"Dean-"

"Leave me alone, Sam."

So Sam did. He went back to his room and sat on his bed, staring at the wall and thinking about Cas.

How he had acted when he first met him, awed and humbled to be in the presence of such an incredible being. Of course, he had soon learned the truth, but Cas had remained the exception to the rule. But he had noticed the less he was fascinated by Cas, the more so Dean seemed to become. When Cas had been Castiel, Dean had treated him like any other monster with too much power and stupid ideas.

But then Cas had fallen, become so human in so many ways, his power like a never ending rollercoaster of ups and downs and Dean had been...

Sometimes Sam wondered if Dean forgot that Cas was an angel. Although the truth was, he realised as the cold, grey wall filled his vision, was that the angel thing was the problem. The last little hurdle that kept Dean chained.

He never asked Dean what happened the day they lost Cas, exactly how it went down, and had the very real feeling that it would be intrusive to do so. Sure they were brothers and shared almost everything, but not everything was meant to be shared.

Dean was quiet for a while after. The ratio of looking for ways to crack the Empty versus looking for hunts shifted into the favour of the latter. Dean never said his name, almost as if he was daring Sam to say it first so he could explode again, but Sam knew better.

That was until the witch hunt in Ohio.

Sam, once again, found himself flat on his back, an ugly, screaming monster straddling his struggling form, an ornate sword across his chest, pinning him down.

"Sammy!"

Dean's roar was accompanied by him bodily tackling the witch to the ground, the sword clattering noisly to the floor by Sam's left hand.

"What the hell is wrong with your face, ugly?" Dean growled, keeping the witch from sinking her sharp, yellow teeth into him by forcing her chin away with his hand.

Sam picked up the sword. "I... I recognise this," he said, slowly getting to his feet and turning it over in his hand.

"That's freaking great, Sammy," Dean growled as he continued to grapple with the witch on the ground.

"No, I mean, I saw it in one of the books when were looking up-"

Sam stopped himself. Even in the middle of a fight for his life Dean flinched, and the witch made some headway, sinking her teeth into Dean's shoulder.

His howl of pain focused Sam, and he plunged the sword into the witches back, right between her shoulder blades.

Shrieking, the witch scrambled off of Dean, hands frantically flailing to reach the weapon in her back.

With one last ear splitting scream, the witch fell on her face, dead as dead could be.

Sam eyed the corpse for a moment before heading over to Dean and helping him to his feet.

"You ok, man?" he asked, casting a wary look at Dean's wounded shoulder.

"Worse than it looks," Dean said gruffly, rolling said shoulder with a wince.

Sam frowned in disbelief but didn't press the issue.

"What did you mean?" Dean asked evenly.

Sam closed his eyes. He had hoped the question could at least wait until they got back to the car.

"About the sword - What did you mean?" Dean pressed, the slightest edge to his voice now.

Sam looked down at it in his hands. After sighing heavily, he began to speak.

"When we were looking for a way to get Cas back-"

"We still are," Dean cut in sharply.

"Right, right," Sam said quickly. "Anyway, this sword it - it belonged to an angel named Andriel."

"So?"

"So... He died. Well, he was executed actually. By the other angels. The lore was a little vague but apparently he got some orders he didn't like the sound of and faced a firing squad, so to speak."

Dean looked over to the dead witch. "Still not getting your point here Sammy." He reached down and snatched up his pistol from ground, checking the safety before tucking it into the back of his pants.

"The point is that Andriel is in Heaven, not the Empty."

Sam hated the way Dean's eyes lit up, knowing what Dean was going to ask and what his answer was going to be.

"He got out?"

Sam swallowed but held Dean's gaze. "He was never pulled in at all."

Dean's eyebrows quirked in confusion, an expression that mimicked one Sam was so used to seeing on Cas's face it was almost sick.

Sam sighed heavily and started to make his way out of the building and back to the car. "He knew he was gonna get shanked for disobeying, so he put some hex on the sword. All his angelic grace pulled into the sword when he died, so when he died, he was-"

"Human," Dean finished for him, a whole weight of loss etched deeply into the one word.

Sam felt his shoulders drop. "If I thought it would have helped I'd have mentioned it..." he said gently.

Dean nodded, his expression suddenly blank, and lead Sam out to the car.

Back at the bunker, Sam almost got to believe for a moment that the reminder of Cas's loss had been soft enough to not trigger any destruction in Dean, self or otherwise, until Andriels's sword was dropped on to the table in front of him.

"What kind of angel was he?"

"Cas?" Sam responded without thinking, and hates that he sees the grief transform Dean's face, if only for a moment.

"Andriel. What kind of angel was he that he was so special he got his own god damned sword? And Michael, with his lance?" Dean's voice was climbing in volume now, rage taking over like an old jacket slipping onto his bloodied shoulder.

"Dean, I-"

"Gabriel and his horn? Even read somewhere Lucy had a set of scales or some shit. I was just in Cas's room and do you know what was in there? Do you know?"

Sam remained silent.

"Nothing, Sam! Nothing. Guy didn't own a goddamn thing except the clothes on his back and when the Empty took him it took them too! It's like- it's like..."

But almost as soon as it had arrived the fierce wind seemed to go out of Dean's sails.

"Dean?"

Dean dropped into the chair across from Sam.

"Man, it was like he was never here at all."

Sam shifted in his chair. "We know he was here," Sam said evenly.

"Yeah, and when we die then what? I'll have a rusting car and you'll have a shelf of hair care products, and oh yeah, we'll both have this damn bunker as our tomb but Cas?" Dean's voice broke on the angel's name.

Sam chose his next words very, very carefully. "I think," he began gently, hesitantly. "That Cas's memory or his legacy or whatever, it's... it's whatever you're feeling right now."

The words hung between them, and it was touch and go as to whether or not Dean would let it go or take a swing at him for moment.

Then Dean dropped back in his chair, defeated. "For all the good it's doing me," he said.

"Why would you wake me up?"

Lucifer, or at least something borrowing his image, took four very quick strides towards the other person in the endless, shapeless not-room, eyes literally glowing red with fury.

Completely unfazed, Jack just smiled his soft smile and blinked slowly. "Because I needed you to be awake."

"But I don't like being awake, I despise being awake, I have been very vocal and destructive about the fact that I am unhappy to be awake," the Empty hissed.

"I know," Jack replied simply.

The Empty studied him for a moment, and then realisation seemed to dawn and 'Lucifer' bent double with braying laughter.

When he straightened up again, the laughter abating as it wiped tears from its eyes, the Empty clapped it's hands together and rolled it's eyes.

"This is because I took Castiel, isn't it? I punish him, you punish me, round and round we go. But the thing is, Jackie boy, is that ol' blue eyes and me, we had a deal. Fair and square."

"Is that so?" Jack replied, still entirely impassive.

"He woke me up. I had to make an example of him. If I let him go, again, then every Sally in here is gonna think I'm gonna walk them to the door." There was a hint of anxiety on the edge of the Empty's voice now, but Jack was still as calm as ever.

"I am not offering a deal. I'm not threatening you either. I simply needed to talk to you, and I can't do that if you're sleeping."

The Empty raised its eyebrows. "And once were done with our little chat?"

"You can go back to sleep."

"Really?" the Empty replied skeptically. "And if you don't like the side of my conversation?"

"Then that is my problem," Jack replied with a small shrug.

The Empty plunged its hands into its pockets and rocked back and forth on its feet. "Alright, well then let's chat. I'd like to get back to my beauty rest."

"I would like you to give me Castiel."

"No."

"Why?" Jack as with a small tilt of his head.

"I told you why, kid. You know if you're gonna be God, you really gotta work on them listening skills."

"Right. You said you need to make an example of him."

The Empty withdrew a hand like a pistol and winked at Jack. "Bingo."

"That's not going to be a problem."

The finger slowly lowered back down. "And why is that?"

Jack moved for the first time since he had shown up in the vast void, walking a slow circle around the Empty.

"Unlike my grandfather, I see how creating without thinking things through ends up creating problems. Problems that have to be patched and fixed and don't often hold. He made Leviathan, but they were too dangerous so he locked them away in a cage with a lock that could be broken. He made angels, but they were to obedient and so they were boring, so when they died he gave them to you. Then he made humans, who were interesting because they had free will, but that meant they made both good and bad choices. So he needed Heaven, and he needed Hell. He made cages to trap his mistakes and his errors in."

The Empty turned on the spot to follow Jack's path. "What's your point."

Jack came to a stop and smiled. "I want to change it. All of it. Heaven is... not the kind of peace humans want, it is the kind of peace Chuck thought they would want. Not love and warmth but memories of the times they felt pleasure from his creation, his work. Not what they had formed themselves. And I cannot do that alone."

The Empty raised an eyebrow. "You can't do it alone. You? The all powerful boy scout?"

"The souls in Heaven have far more power combined than I could ever imagine. Relocating them to a better Heaven would be impossible, even for me. So I need them to stay in this Heaven, and this Heaven is powered by angels."

"I am... aware," the Empty replied with a lofty wave of the hand.

"There are angels in Heaven, but they can barely manage with what they have now. So Heaven needs more angels. I need Castiel."

"One more angel isn't going to make much of a difference," the Empty said sarcastically. "Especially one like Cas, he was practically out of juice when he got here."

Jack nodded. "I can't make angels. Or at least, I don't seem to be very good at it," he mused, half to himself. "But an angel like Castiel, made and remade through God's power, even if it was through petty curiosity rather than love, is an angel I can make much, much stronger than before. Stronger than any archangel and strong enough to power heaven all by himself. My power is already in every atom of him. I just have to tap into it."

Then Jack lowered his head and narrowed his eyes slightly. "And he is my friend."

"Thought you said you weren't here to make threats."

The brief cloud on Jack's expression faded as though it had never been there at all. "Of course not."

The Empty considered this for a moment. "Look, it's great you got this who Make Heaven Great Again thing going on, but the answers still no. This mosquito has to be squished once and for all."

"Very well," Jack said, his tone unreadable. "But as I said. Heaven needs angels, and as Cas is the only one stable enough to contain any fraction of my power, to equate it I shall simply have to take the rest."

The Empty took a step back. "You can't. You- and you said no threats!"

"It isn't a threat," Jack said as though explaining a simple fact.

The Empty raised a finger as though it had a winning argument. "You said I could say no and you'd let me go back to sleep."

"I did. And you can say no. And I will put you back to sleep. I don't recall the part of the conversation where I promised to respect your wishes."

The Empty laughed again.

"Ah, ha, so this isn't a request it's-"

"Its me offering you the courtesy of which you would prefer."

The Empty gave a humourless grin, looked to it's feet and sighed. "Fine, take him. But I would like to make a deal."

"You want to make a deal with me? Don't deals usually involve both sides having something the other wants?"

"I'm giving you Castiel!"

"No, I just haven't taken him yet."

"Then why ask? Why not just take him? Hell, why not empty the whole Empty while you're at it?"

For the first time, Jack faltered. "My grandfather made a lot of poor choices."

"Yeah he really half-assed creation, huh?" the Empty said, voice laced with faux sympathy.

"You could say that. But when God makes a mistake, I have to make sure I don't just make it again in a different way. It takes time, power, energy, thought. And, in this case, help. And I need someone I know will help me. Selflessly and completely. Cas is that someone." Jack looked away, off into the void, but if the Empty went looking for weakness what it actually found was empathy. Jack wasn't looking to rewrite creation to fit his standards. He was just trying to get it right.

Of course, the Empty didn't care about that at all, but did realise that the power Jack had that wasn't God power was just as much to be feared.

"Still don't get why you're asking and not just taking," the Empty said shrewdly.

Jack held the Empty's gaze. "You don't like Castiel," he said simply.

"Understatement," the Empty replied casually.

"In fact, you dislike him so much that this particular angel, who went through so much to save the world, to help people, to help me, who lost so much, you wouldn't even let him be happy just because he woke you up."

That flicker again, gone just as soon as it had arrived.

"So I need to know you won't try to come after him again. That you will leave him and I to do our work without interfering. This will be the last time Cas leaves the Empty, and he will not come back."

"All angels come to me," the Empty said plainly.

"Yes, as my grandfather designed it."

"Ah. So once you're done with Heaven..."

Jack shrugged. "Cas said that when he was here, the first time he was here, before I woke him up, he was sleeping. But it wasn't peaceful. It wasn't warm. He didn't feel loved. He felt nothing. I'm... not certain I'm comfortable with that. But that is for another day."

The Empty closed its eyes. "Not to brass tacks this, but you're saying you want to take away what may be the only scant leverage I have over you and ask me to promise not to take it back?"

Jack nodded. "I have respect for your power and your domain. What you did to Castiel was petty and cruel and unkind, but in taking him you saved Dean, and that knowledge was the best thing you could have done for Cas. Besides that, you have never been... destructive or ambitious. I have no reason to remake your kingdom, or cause you to suffer. Some angels do deserve p

eace, and none more so than Castiel. If you give me your word you won't interfere, I'll put you into the kind of sleep that no one can wake you from."

"Except you. And this is sounding remarkably like a deal, kiddo."

"Yes. I suppose it is."

After Cas's lack of possessions, the next hurdle was that there was no place to go to talk to him.

Dean would often storm into the garage and sit behind the wheel of the Impala for hours, itching to go to a place that didn't exist. No headstone, no grave, no ashes to scatter.

After the third time retrieving him from the car in the depths of night, instead of packing him off to bed, Sam dragged him to the kitchen and placed a beer in front of him.

"You got something on your mind, Sammy?"

"Same thing as you. Cas."

Dean jerked his head in annoyance. "Come on Sam, we've been over this. Cas is... it is what it is, ok?"

"Make you feel better to say that?"

Dean worried at the label of his beer. "Not really."

Sam got to his feet, leaning over the table to clap Dean on the shoulder.

"You know, as crappy as it might be to say this, of all the people we lost, Cas is the one we spoke to a lot when he wasn't in the room. Never mattered where he was or where we were, he always heard us. Night Dean."

Dean raised his bottle. "Night Sammy."

Sam wanted to get to his room before Dean plucked up his courage, but he was just closing his door he heard the faint rumble of what could only be "Hey, Cas..."

"Jack?"

"Welcome back, Castiel."

Confusion painting his face, Cas looked around, eyes searching. "I don't understand, the Empty, it - I'm not supposed to be - where are we?" He looked around, but everything was blank whiteness as far as the eye could see.

Jack smiled. "Heaven."

"Who's?"

Jack's smile widened. "Everyone's."

This clearly did nothing to lessen Cas's confusion, so Jack explained everything. Firstly that Dean and Sam were safe, the question already threatening to spill from Cas's lips and interrupt him, everything that had happened with Chuck, and then finally his plan, for Heaven, for Castiel, for everything.

When he was done, Cas looked down at his hands. "I don't feel any different."

"This was as far as the angels could take it without the power but now it's time, if you will help me."

Castiel shifted nervously. "What you're asking, what you want me to become. If history has proven anything it's that I don't handle power well."

Jack let out a gentle laugh. "Every time you sought power, you sought it to stand up for what was right against those who were using their own power to harm. Now, the person with the power is me. Do you trust me?"

There was no accusation in Jack's tone. It was entirely an enquiry.

"Of course, Jack, it's not that, it's-"

"You don't trust yourself?"

Castiel cast his eyes downwards.

Jack reached out and put a hand on Cas's shoulder. "When my power was Chucks, he used it to remake you. Ripped into the Empty and took you back out, violated the Empty's realm. Careless and uncaring. But the Empty never knew, because he never woke it up. The Empty chose to believe the lie that God had no power there. So even though I woke it up I also showed it the truth. It might not like me, but at least it trusts me. As do you. And you wouldn't be here if the entity who cares for you the most and the one who likes you the least didn't believe this is where you ought to be. You don't have to take my word for it when I say this is where you belong, but maybe you'll believe the being who tore your happiness apart just to keep you away."

"You're saying the Empty let you take me?"

"In a way. The power Chuck used to free you, to rebuild you, it binds your every cell. It's my power now, and you're the only one who can do this."

"You said all the angels in the Empty could."

Jack nodded. "They could. But I trust that you can do it right."

"So, you're saying Jack did all this?"

"Well," Bobby replied with a wry smile. "Cas helped."

A million different emotions vied for dominance over Dean's heart and maybe if he were still alive a different one would have won out. Instead it was a feeling of, yes, well, of course. This place, even if it was Heaven, would never have felt this warm if Cas hadn't had a hand in it.

"You seen him?" he asked casually. "Or Jack?"

Bobby's knowing smile didn't falter. "Ain't seen either of them but word gets around, even up here. There's angels to be found if you know where to look."

"And you went looking? Even dead you're still a nosy bastard."

Bobby laughed. "Hey one minute I'm in eternal solitude drinking Johnny Walker and listening to Kenny Rogers, next I'm at some roadhouse with Ellen and Jo and a whole who's who of people I burned or buried. Can't hang a guy for wondering what happened."

"You ever heard that old saying about gift horses?"

Bobby scoffed. "Heard the one about free lunches. If you don't check for teeth all you got is a starving beast with a kick that'll kill ya."

Dean smirked. "You always had a way with words, Bobby. But even if you ain't gone looking for Cas, is it weird he didn't drop by just to say howdy?"

"That wasn't really his style before he became what a gotta be the second most powerful being in all creation. Doubt he's gonna start now."

Deal choked on his pull of beer. "He's what now?"

Bobby frowned, clearly angry at himself, not wanting to be the one who Dean learned this from. But what's done is done, and so Bobby explained how everything Dean was basking in was powered by Cas's grace. He of course expected Dean's reaction.

"Wait, so you're saying Jack's got Cas hooked up like some sort of celestial battery?" he demanded.

"More like this was Jack's idea, but it's Cas's magnum opus. He wanted to do this, and you ask me no one woulda done better. All these souls up here, happy, content, loved and safe. All because of him. Seems like a very Cas thing to do if you want my opinion."

Dean relaxed his shoulders. After a moment, he let out a small grunt. "Well, he better get to be happy too is all I'm saying."

"Might not be here when he gets wind you've booked a room. How long had he even been gone?"

"Six months," Dean confessed.

Bobby shook his head. "Then if I was you, I'd start driving.

Dean drove. Dean drove and he thought. He thought about his grief, the weight of regret that defined it. Most of his feelings, his fear for Sam, his anger at the whole world, they felt muted now. Still there, but softer now. Sam would be ok, for as long as he could be, and where he was done, Dean would see him again. And the world would still suck but really, that wasn't anything that had ever been Dean's fault, he realised now. Choosing to be one of the good ones had been the best thing he could do, and he'd gone all in.

But the grief? The regret? Still as raw as ever, but slightly less ragged now that he knew Cas wasn't locked up with the Empty forever. But Cas must know that Dean had died, there's no way he couldn't, and even in his new and improved state Dean still felt petulantly like he was owed some face time.

Or, really, that he owed it to Cas.

Could a person pray in Heaven? What was the point when according to Bobby you could run into an angel at the pristine 7-11 where the burritos were never soggy and the slushie machine never ran out of Blue. Still, as he drove through beautiful autumnal scenes with snow capped mountains their perfect backdrop, Dean closed his eyes. Probably a bad idea while driving he thought but screw it. He was already dead.

"Castiel?" He frowned at himself. "Cas, buddy, you around? Or are you like... All around? Like Jack? Not important. Or kinda important, I guess? Just, I hope I'm getting through."

Dean sighed. He'd open his eyes after the first two syllables but the seat beside him remained resolutely empty. Ticking his head in frustration, Dean cleared his throat and carried on.

"I just... What you did. For me. For everyone, really, just, I wish it hadn't gone down like that. I know you did what you thought was right and maybe yeah, I'd given up but what you did..?"

The tears were pricking at Dean's eyes before he could stop them. "What you gave up..."

Then suddenly, it was a decade ago as the familiar sound of fluttering wings reached his ear and Cas was sitting beside him, staring straight out of the window.

"Hello Dean."

Dean could only assume it was Heavens road and Heavens car keeping him from crashing into a tree. He slammed his foot on the brakes so hard it almost went straight through. The car squealed to a stop and Dean, eyes locked on Cas, switched off the ignition.

"Cas."

"So you're dead."

Dean finally looked away. "Ugh, yeah. And you wouldn't believe how-"

"You impaled yourself on a rebar in a filthy barn rescuing children from vampires in ridiculous masks."

"Or you might." Dean swallowed. "Are you mad?" he asked, like he'd actually spilt marinara sauce on Cas's favourite trench coat instead of checking out.

Cas turned to look at him. "I'm not mad."

"Just disappointed?"

"I'm... sorry your life has ended," Cas finally managed. "And for Sam's broken heart."

Dean sagged. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that too."

"And I am conflicted, as your death was the only way I would ever get to see you again. That was why I did not come to you right away."

Dean rolled his shoulders, clearly uncomfortable. "Hey man, it's only been like half a day. Don't sweat it."

"Actually by your terms it's been about seven years."

Dean felt his mouth drop open. "No... I was just talking to Bobby and-"

"Time is different here."

"Naturally."

"This is the first time I've come back to Heaven in this form since I left." It sounded like a confession.

"So where have you been?"

"Here. Just... generally. What Jack gave to me, it... It made me different."

"What kind of different?"

Cas sighed softly. "For all the time I knew you, I became more and more human, and therefore less and less angel. And now, here I am, the most angel I have ever been."

For some reason, this knowledge caused an ache in Dean's chest. "So... like you were when we first met back in that barn? Just another dick with wings?" Dean sounded defeated.

"I haven't been reset, Dean. I haven't forgotten my time on earth, what I went through and who I became and why. I haven't forgotten you, Dean."

Dean's smile was subtle, because as relieved as he was the memories of everything Cas had said to him the day the Empty took him came rushing back.

You changed me, Dean.

"So, uh, what's it like? Bobby made it sound like you got some pretty serious mojo now." Ah the old Winchester classic, change the subject the second it gets too real. Even dead and in Heaven he was still a schmuck.

"It was overwhelming, at first. I couldn't comprehend it, I felt... daunted. But then I realised what Jack had actually given me. A gift. A chance to help in a way that was truly helping. No fight, no struggle, but a chance to keep these souls safe, and let them know they were loved. And if I got it wrong... If I- it would only ever be on me. This..." he said, waving a hand generally at the scene outside. "This is the culmination of everything I have learned, in every possible way."

Dean's smile widened. "Well I gotta say me personally, I think you done a bang up job, man. Maybe not as many statues of me as I'd like but..."

Cas laughed, and right there Dean saw him. Saw him entirely as he was. As he had known him before, the same Cas, just without the weight of everything on top of him. This was Cas at peace.

And Dean realised that for all he had blamed Cas for, and all the slip ups Cas had made, Cas deserved this responsibility and this right, and Bobby had been right when he said there was no one better for the job.

"I'll make a note of it," Cas said wryly.

They stayed for a moment in silence and then Dean slammed his hands on the wheel and muttered, "fuck it," under his breath before turning to Cas.

"Get out the car," he said gruffly.

Cas's face fell. "If you wish for me to leave-"

"Didn't say that, said I wanted you to get out the car."

Dean didn't wait for an answer and instead pushed his own door open, happy that the familiar squeak had persisted in Heaven. Beauty in imperfection, right?

He heard Cas's door slam and he turned to walk around to the front of the car. When they both reached the shiny chrome fender, Dean reached out with both hands and pulled Cas tight against him.

"Damn it's good to see you again," he said, burying his face into the familiar trench coat. He felt Cas hesitate before wrapping his own arms around Dean.

When they pulled apart, Dean kept his hand on Cas's shoulder, his face a picture of happiness, but it faltered when he saw the slight look of misery on Cas's face.

"Is it?" Cas asked.

"What?"

"Good to see me. After..."

Ah. Right. That.

Dean's hand dropped away, which was probably the worst thing he could have done as the regret in Cas's eyes deepened.

Dean cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders, feeling his gruff demeanour cover him like armour against something that wasn't even a threat. God, he could be so damn stupid sometimes. He was dead and in Heaven, and he was still posturing.

"Dean?"

"Gimme a sec, ok?"

Cas nodded.

Dean had replayed that moment in his mind over and over in his head, wondering what he could have done to stop it on his best days, and all the things he should have said that he didn't on his worst. In that moment, he had let Cas down in every single way. Locked in a room, seconds from death, with no one, literally no one around, even if Dean hadn't known it at the time, he still hadn't managed to stow his crap for two seconds just to tell Cas a comforting lie.

'I love you too.' How hard was that?

And why had it been so hard?

It was time to stop being a coward.

"Did you mean it?" he asked eventually.

Cas looked like he was defying himself not to look away. "Yes."

Dean nodded. He wanted to put space between himself and the angel. He wanted to run all the way back into his body and not have this conversation.

"Cas, I... I didn't know."

An unexpected tick of anger narrowed Cas's eyes. "But you didn't seem surprised."

Dean closed his eyes. Of course he had known, somewhere, but it was somewhere fragmented and broken in his head, buried under fear and confusion, awkwardness and accountability. And the usual self loathing of why him? Why would anyone love him, especially how much Cas clearly did. It wasn't just 'I love you', it was I love you and every messy, painful, awful thing that comes with it. And to love him like that knowing Dean would never..? Dean hated himself for not loving Cas. If he had the choice, if he could wave a magic wand, if he could just... be different. He would do it for Cas. Because Cas deserved to be loved like that. Deserved to be adored and longed for and wanted. And Dean wanted that for him, would have rained down a million blessings if Cas had fallen for anyone but him. A man who couldn't, and didn't know how.

"Then I'm sorry I didn't... say something."

"What would have possibly said, Dean?" Cas asked, tilting his head.

Dean breathed out heavily, shaking his head. "Man you're right. Stupid thing to say. It's just..."

"You want me not to, but you can't say that because it makes me someone you don't love. Not like that."

Damn Dean hated it when Cas was like this. All brick and no subtle.

"I didn't choose you Dean, that would have been stupid, even for me." He offered Dean a small smile as compensation.

Dean refused to be placated. "I wish I could," he said, his voice small.

"Do you?" Cas asked, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Course I do Cas. I... i mean. No one knows me like you do Cas, except may be Sammy, you know every ugly damn inch of me and you still... gotta be some kinda extra grade dumbass to throw that kind of... love away."

"You're angry you don't... reciprocate?"

There was that brick again.

"Angry? I'm fucking furious, man! Here's this guy, this angel, my best friend in the whole god damn world, someone I never get tired of spending time with and being around, someone who knocks me clean out of the game every time he's taken from me, and I can't..?"

The first tear was a surprise, but the next three felt inevitable.

"And... And it's not because I don't see you, Cas, it's not. I just... how do we get from here to there with me standing in the way?"

Car seemed just as shocked by his words as Dean himself.

"Dean, I don't quite-"

Dean looked away. "I gotta go. Sorry man."

He turned on his heel and got back into the Impala, only daring to look out the windshield when he was certain Cas would have gone.

Sam still prayed to Cas, even after Dean was gone. Maybe more so, even though he wasn't sure if Cas could hear him in the Empty. He prayed to Jack, not needing an answer but taking comfort in the fact that Jack could still feel his love. He made a family, made a life, and missed his other family every day. To lose them all in so short a time had nearly ruined him, but then he would think of Cas, and Dean, and as realisation dawned on him, Cas and Dean, and what they had never had the chance to have.

And then he began to wonder if he could pray to Dean. If Dean could hear him in Heaven. He felt like he was asking questions to empty air, but it felt better to talk.

On Little Dean's second day of middle school, (not so little anymore), Sam was driving home from work in the evening, pulled up at yet another red light, when he heard a scream. Old habits die hard and he pulled up, reaching into the glove compartment for his pistol as he headed to the source of the scream.

"No, please!"

A woman, dressed in the uniform of a well know burger chain, was being held against the wall by something with more teeth than was sensible. Sam cursed; bullets wouldn't do shit against a vampire, but he could at least pull the vamp off and give the girl time to get away. At her feet he noticed what must have been one of her co-workers, writhing, hands clutched against their neck, crimson soaking through into the dirty alley below.

"Let her go!" he shouted, sprinting towards the vamp and tackling it to the ground with a heavy thud.

He turned back to the burger flipper. "Run!" he yelled.

She didn't need to be told twice. She took off towards the main street, leaving Sam unarmed and frankly rusty against a full strength vampire.

It didn't take long for the vamp to get the upper hand, and then it was Sam pinned against the alley, the vamps teeth bared as it closed in for the kill.

Then suddenly, Sam was forced to shut his eyes as burning light began to spill from the vamps mouth and eyes. After a moment, the burned out husk dropped onto him and Sam pushed it aside with disgust to look up at his rescuer.

Castiel stood over him, eyes burning brighter than he had ever seen, with huge, expansive wings covering the entire wall behind him in shadow. Sam felt a strange flinch of fear, the same he had felt when Cas was full of Leviathan and completely unhinged.

The glow in Cas's eyes faded. He looked past Sam and reached out his fingers to heal the other victim. The boy coughed and sputtered, took a moment to marvel at his miraculous resurrection before taking off after his friend.

"Cas?" Sam asked, as Cas helped him to his feet.

"Yes. Are you alright?"

"I'm - Cas? You're alive?"

"I appear to be."

"Was it Jack?"

"Yes."

Sam stepped forward and took Cas into his arms before stepping back and sighing. "Cas you need to know. Dean is-"

"Dead. I know. We recently had a conversation on the topic. Amongst other things." Cas seemed to be a little off.

"He's... he's ok?" Sam asked, old tears coming home to roost.

Cas seemed to realise he was not supposed to be the focus of this encounter. "He's happy. He's... driving."

Sam laughed to himself fondly. "Figures." He took a moment to marvel that Dean's idea of Heaven was much the same as sixty percent of his days, driving for hours on end. Then he shook his head. "But what are you doing here? Jack said-"

"Hands off, I know. But I've been hearing your prayers for a while now and it seemed... unfair to ignore you any longer, not after what we have been through together. Right now seemed as good a time as any," he said gesturing to the alley.

"Yeah, uh, thanks for that. Been out of the game for a while."

"I know. You have a beautiful family."

Sam nodded. Of course Cas knew. "And you... what have you been doing?"

"I have been... with Jack," he said simply, not wanting to get into everything.

"Well, it's really good to see you again... And I'm guessing that once you go the next vamp I run into is walking away picking bits of Winchester out of its teeth, right?"

Car sighed, then nodded. "I would advise not running into any more vamps at all."

"Noted. But while you are here..."

"You wish to know about Dean."

Sam shook his head. "You already sad. He's happy. Simple, and the only thing Dean never got to be. But... how happy?"

Castiel narrowed his eyes in confusion. "He's in Heaven. He is content. He is..."

"Cas?" Sam prompted.

"Infuriating."

"Well, at least he's still Dean. What did he do?"

And so Cas relayed the conversation he and Dean had had in front of the Impala, and though Sam was aggravated he wasn't surprised. In the years since he had lost Dean, so many things regarding Cas and the way he fit into Dean's life had fallen into place that Sam only hoped the constant threat to their lives was the only reason he hadn't seen it sooner.

Sam laid a hand on Cas's shoulder. "The one thing you have to remember is that even though the conversation sucked, now that you've had it you both know. It isn't you. It's him. So you're not going to... force anything until he's ready."

Car contemplated this for a moment. "But there is something to... uh, not force."

And Sam Winchester, who had seen Heaven and Hell lain bare and tearing at each other's throats, who had witnessed the death of God himself and raised his replacement, would never see something quite as jarring as the strongest angel in all of creation asking in a meek tone if his brother liked him.

Sam just smiled. "I mean it's been really, really good to see you again."

Cas offered a smile in return, and like that, he was gone.

Dean really needed a distraction, and it needed to be a big one. After messing around in some timelines he wasn't supposed to and a gentle telling off from Jack, he still found his thoughts cycling right back around to Cas. He couldn't ignore this until it went away because the point of eternity was that it kind of lasted forever.

He went to see Charlie. He went to see his mom and dad so much he started to feel like they were gonna move him into the basement and start charging him rent. He drove and drove and drove some more. He didn't see Cas again, but he couldn't really be sure if he hadn't seen him since last week or a decade ago. The conversation was such a sharp memory, and the only time it left his mind was when he stepped out of Baby to admire the view from a bridge when he felt a familiar presence behind him.

"Hey Sammy."

Sam was captivated by what Cas had made of Heaven. After telling Dean all about his life on earth, omitting the last visit he had had from Cas, the conversation turned to what they would do now. And as Dean mostly explained it, Heaven was a nice place to pass the time until you waited for your family and friends to get there. He met Sam's wife, put his foot in his mouth when he said he couldn't wait to meet Sam's son, and the talked about family. About Jack. And, eventually, about Cas.

"He's not around much. All super charged now so he's probably busy keeping the lights on." Dean shrugged and took a pull of his beer as he, Sam, John and Mary hung out at the roundhouse. Sam's wife was fishing with her grandfather, and she had insisted on Sam having some Winchester family only time, no matter how much everyone at that table would have insisted she were just as much a Winchester too.

"Well, if I ever get to meet him I'll shake his hand. Looking over my boys all those years and then this place?" John nodded appreciatively.

Mary frowned. "Cas would have driven you up the wall," she said with a fond smile.

"Hey, I don't know, I mean Cas is a little - No, you're right," Sam agreed with a laugh.

"Sure do wish he drop by more, though," Dean said, glancing around the bar as though he expected to see a trench coat sitting on a stool.

"Oh yeah?" Sam said nonchalently. "Told him that, have you?"

Despite being well versed in lying to his brother, this one didn't get past Dean and his head turned on a swivel. He didn't say anything but his eyes said everything. Sam knew.

"A word?" he said, jerking his head towards the door.

John held up a hand. "Hey, no secrets in Heaven." Next to him, however, Mary laid a hand on his arm and shook her head, a knowing look in her eye at Dean. Whether or not he would ever be able to understand the exact nuance of the relationship between his son and an angel she wasn't sure, but now was not the time for another uptight Winchester to rethink his world view.

"Dean," Sam began before his brother could get a word in. "I lived over forty years after you died, and you still haven't spoken to him. I know from the way you tell it it's not like that up here, but Dean - he's your best friend. At least."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean demanded.

Sam wasn't having it. "Maybe I was blind too, but I did see the way you fell apart every time we lost him, the way living with you every time you and he had a falling out was like living with a nuclear bomb. You're just better when he's around you. And you can label it however the hell you want, no one outside of you gives a fuck, but what you should try to pin down is what it is you're actually afraid of. That you *like* him, or that you like *him*."

Dean was quiet for what seemed like an age, even in Heaven.

"Dad'd give a fuck," he said quietly.

Sam looked at him pointedly. "So it's the second one then."

Dean had, like everyone else, a space to call his own in Heaven. His was a log cabin with an aesthetically jarring workshop attached where he could tinker with Baby. He wondered some time if she lost a few valves or slipped a gear on purpose. Designed to be flawed. Or maybe she was just a perfect, imperfect replica of the car he had loved so much during his time on earth. He found working on the Impala very soothing, but tonight did nothing for him as he cleaned the spark plugs and checked the oil. The sky was clear and littered with stars, beautiful and endless, and Dean felt lost.

"Cas?" he said, his voice almost a whisper as he slammed the hood down.

The flutter of wings was almost instantaneous.

"Its been a while since we spoke," Cas said by way of greeting.

Dean looked to the ground. "I'm sorry."

"There's no need."

"But you know, if you ever want to, like hang out or anything, you don't gotta wait for me to make the first move."

Dean felt like a stupid idiot. This was Cas. It had never been difficult to talk to him. Infuriating at times, certainly, but he never fumbled for words even when he was angry. But this? This was new.

"I had reason to believe it would be best to give you time."

"Is that reason eight feet of hair on a six foot man?"

Cas just looked away awkwardly before he spoke again.

"I don't know if it is forgiveness or absolution you need to be at peace here, Dean, but I neither hate you nor wish to avoid you just because of my... feelings." Cas was genuine in his words, filled with longing but underneath all of that clearly missing his friend.

"I don't feel guilty," Dean said evenly. "I feel, like I said before in a much less composed way, angry. Angry that I don't think I can..." He trailed off, unwilling to let himself to talk in circles.

Cas waited for a moment. "Do you want to, though?"

And Dean realised he was dead. He was in Heaven. He had nothing left to lose and everything to gain, and in a way that made the anger so much worse because he could have, should have said something sooner.

"I think I do."

Cas nodded.

"I know I do," Dean emphasised.

"I understand that humans have certain... obstacles they must overcome. Certain... issues. Things so ingrained within them that they can't bring themselves to-"

"Say it again."

"Say what?"

Dean set his expression. "The last thing you ever said to me on earth. Say it again."

Cas hesitated, then looked defeated. "Goodbye Dean."

Dean grabbed his arm before he could fly away. "You know that's not what I meant."

"Do I?"

"Try me."

Cas swallowed, the same tears filling his eyes as he turned his fierce blue eyes on Dean.

"I love you." he said, voice breaking.

And this time, there was no threat. There was no grim reaper knocking at the door, no cruel entity coming to rip Cas away. There was just them, and all the time in the universe. Back then they hadn't had time. Dean hadn't had time.

He didn't answer straight away. Accepting it, choosing it, wanting it, it didn't magically set him free. But he let himself think beyond it, just for a moment. Of having Cas beside him, against him, with him. Of every good feeling he was afraid made him... wrong. And he didn't care. Maybe he would still need more time, after this, time to let go, but Dean Winchester had nothing but time.

"I love you too."

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aleisha-potter · 1 year

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So, I had to write some fix-it. I had to write my head canon out... make this fuckery make sense. And this was born. Just a drabble. Just a beginning but I have plans to expand. To go more in depth into my head canon of where Eli comes from as well as how we're gonna bring Derek back and make Sterek endgame. 🤣🤣 but for now, here is a hopeful little start. Warning: mpreg (but no underage sex! No developed sterek relationship... call it pre-sterek lol)

Once More Into the Abyss

Stiles stared down at the phone in his hands. His dad's text and subsequent phone call were still running circles in his head. He had been rushing back to Beacon Hills as soon as the word Nogitsune had made it down the grapevine to him. But he hadn't made it in time. He sat at his old childhood dining table. The house was quiet, everyone still on their way, and he was thankful for a few moments to gather his thoughts.

His mind wandered. Back to the beginning… or the end, really.

When is a door not a door?

Let me in, Stiles…

He shook his head to clear the voice… the one that still sometimes haunted his sleep. Had they known exactly what that open door would let in, would he have done anything different? He looked down at the screensaver on his phone, an old pic of him and his dad. He looked up at the mantel, the pictures there. His eyes zeroed in on one he hadn't expected. Derek and Eli with the Jeep. No. He wouldn't have done anything different.

They should have guessed the Nogitsune wouldn't have been the only thing that came out of Jennifer's reign of terror. No, it could never be as simple as one ancient bad guy, there always had to be something else. He let his mind wander while he waited for everyone.

They should have expected it. He shouldn't have been surprised when his symptoms didn't disappear fully after they trapped the Nogitsune. His body still ached. He was exhausted. He couldn't eat, couldn't keep anything down. He had trouble sleeping. Of course this nightmare wasn't over. But what Deaton and Melissa figured out? It sent his head reeling. It messed with him even more than possession by a 1000 year old fox demon. Because the answer? Wasn't black and white. Excising the thing growing in him wasn't an easy choice. For once… the thing in him wasn't evil. It just was. And the look on Derek's face when Deaton told him? Stiles knew it would haunt him for the rest of his life if he let them rip it out.

Stiles's phone dinged, a text from his dad that they were about 15 minutes out. Good. He'd wasted enough time. He stood up and moved to the kitchen, digging around for something to make to keep his hands busy while his mind wandered again.

Jennifer Blake, though evil and psychotic, had apparently had a small speck of morality or heart in her. Had she wanted to carry Derek's child out of love or as a way to insure control of the Alpha, who knew, but in the end, she had at least not allowed the child she carried to perish at the Nemeton with her. As she lay bleeding and clinging to the Nemeton, as Peter slashed her throat out, her magic had surged and found a willing host clinging to the same roots. Stiles often questioned why him, why not Allison or Melissa… hell, why not Issac? But really, he knew that answer. Jennifer's magic knew. It knew Stiles was the only one who would hesitate when the choice came to purge the thing growing inside.

Stiles finished stirring the tea and set the pitcher on the table along with some glasses, his eyes straying up to the picture on the mantel again.

The sheriff had pulled his gun, Derek had looked horrified, his hands up in defense, or maybe surrender, but he hadn't made any move to stop the sheriff if he had decided to shoot. Probably his always present guilt that screamed that even if he hadn't touched Stiles, this was still his fault. There had been yelling and demands. Stiles had had to say it three times to be heard. "Leave it alone…" The shocked look his father gave him, the painful confusion from Derek, and the knowing peaceful look from Deaton should all have been expected. But it was the shot of yearning in Derek's eyes when Deaton had told them that Stiles would never be able to forget. And it was that look that had him telling his dad, yes, he wanted to go through with this. Derek yearned for family… for pack. And Stiles could give him this. He could carry Derek's disturbing love child he and his psychotic girlfriend had created. His body had been stolen and used against his will to take life… now it could be used to give life.

Stiles stepped closer to the mantel, his eyes glued to the teen who stood in front of the Jeep Derek was working on, a playful smirk aimed at the camera. God… he looked like him. But then, he and Jennifer had shared some physical similarities. Maybe another reason her magic chose him…

He didn't look like Jennifer. He didn't even look much like Derek. When they laid Eli (Stiles refused to think too much on the name Derek had chosen) on his chest right after he was born, his body still aching and burning from something it shouldn't have been able to do, he had been shocked by how much he looked like him. Deaton and Melissa had been messing with something between his legs he refused to think about as he had just stared down at the red body squirming on his chest. His hands had come up to curl around the small baby. The one good thing that had come from the nightmare of the last year. New life. Untouched by the evil that haunted Beacon Hills. Derek's large hand had moved to cover the baby's back and Stiles could see how it trembled. The moment had lasted barely any time at all before Melissa was covering Eli with a blanket, rubbing him and picking him up (when had the cord been cut?) and handing him to Derek and Stiles felt a moment of panic. But that was the plan. Had always been the plan. He was 17. The whole concept of carrying a baby was enough of a head rush without even contemplating anything beyond that. Eli wasn't his either. He was Derek's. Stiles was just the magical incubator. For eight months though, he had talked to the thing growing inside of him. There was a bond there, even if Stiles was trying to forget that. Magic had turned his body upside down and inside out to let it do this. Maybe it conjured these feelings, too, and they would fade as the magic left his body now that Eli was safely delivered into his father's arms.

Stiles jumped when he heard the front door slam. He turned and his stomach twisted when his dad walked in. He was covered in blood and mud and soot. The smell of ash and burning flesh was heavy around him and it made Stiles's stomach churn.

"Hey Dad," he choked out, years of fear for his dad making his feet rush across the room to throw his arms around the sheriff.

"Hey, kiddo," his dad greeted, his voice full of grief. The pain stabbed Stiles straight in the chest. He heard the door open again and glanced up, feeling his stomach turn as Eli walked in next, looking so lost and alone, followed by Lydia, Jackson, Peter and Malia. Good. They had all come. Or at least the ones he needed. (Minus Jackson. But that lizard always seemed to be around when Lydia was so… whatever)

He pulled back from the hug and turned to face Eli. He had seen the kid a few times since Derek left Beacon Hills right after he was born, right before Stiles's senior year. His dad sent pictures sometimes, little snippets. But Stiles's feelings about that were… complicated. Eli wasn't his… but sometimes… sometimes he felt a pull he couldn't explain. Looking at him now, the messy hair, the plaid shirt. His face… the smattering of small moles… maybe they should have done the genetic testing. Maybe some part of Stiles had been given to the baby inside of him. Maybe he hadn't just been an incubator.

He nodded, then looked away. There would be time to think about that, to deal with it later. His eyes zeroed in on Lydia. She swallowed. That was another issue he wasn't ready to touch on. But regardless of his feelings and how that particular nightmare ended, he needed her.

He turned and walked back to the dining table, nodding at the tea that he was sure no one really wanted. "We need to talk," he started as the small pack of people circled the table.

He looked right at Lydia again. "The ritual you used to bring back Allison. To bring back Peter. How does it work?" He asked, no beating around the bush.

"Dude. You're not actually thinking about…"

Stiles snapped his glare to Jackson, shutting him up mid sentence.

"You got to come back. Peter got to come back. Fucking Kate Argent and Adrian Harris got to come back! Derek gets to come back," he told him, his voice firm and resolute. His eyes strayed back to Lydia's, passing Eli on the way. He didn't miss the grief stricken look of hope the kid was giving him.

"Lydia, the ritual. Now," he demanded. Amd she began to talk.

#sterek #teen wolf #teen wolf: the movie #spoilers #fix it fic #stiles stilinski #derek hale #eli stilinski hale #eli hale #eli is stiles's #but not really #but he WILL be

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