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I’m like the water when your ship rolled in that night.
Rough on the surface but you cut through like a knife.
The Empty takes on Castiel’s visage, for the sole purpose of screwing with Jack.
“Oh, you want your little angel? You thought it was going to be as easy as storming in and demanding daddy back? You’re just as naive as any other three-year-old. Fine, you want him?”
Far off in the distance of the abyss, there was a momentary flash of light before it became nothing again.
“Then go fetch!”
Dean sat in a hard, wobbly chair with his head buried in his hands. It felt like Lucifer had just blown his way out of Dean’s skull instead of some mystical hell-cage. In the space between breaths, he felt something in the air change that raised the hair on the back of his neck. The feeling disappeared by the time he stood up, but nothing seemed amiss until a figure at his feet coughed heavily. Dean jumped back and drew his gun instinctively, but set it aside just as quickly upon seeing the disheveled, tan coat accompanying a head of dark hair.
“Cas!” Dean dropped to his knees and grabbed his shoulder, moving to flip him over as he talked. “Chuck said you were…” Dean trailed off as he flipped the angel laying on the floor, staring up at him with streaming blue eyes framed by crow’s feet and lightly graying hair.
“Dead,” Dean finished quietly, letting go of the shoulder he realized was far too muscular and falling back on his ass in shock.
“You’re not…”
The Cas laying on the floor sat up slowly, looking shaken up as he took in his surroundings. His eyes made their way back to Dean and stayed there. His mouth turned from a shocked ‘O’ to a flimsy smile, and fresh tears flowed. Those tears may as well have been chains, the way they pinned Dean down to his spot on the floor. Cas didn’t cry. Angels didn’t cry, because they couldn’t feel anything. But Cas - this Cas - looked like he’d been bawling recently, wherever he was before he got dumped on their floor.
They sat across from each other in relative silence, save for the sound of Castiel’s shaky breathing. He wouldn’t take his eyes off of Dean, and Dean didn’t know what the fuck to do or think about that. Fortunately, while Dean-the-Hunter didn’t know what the fuck to do with a random crying dude sitting on the floor, Dean-the-Older-Brother did.
“Come here, then,” he muttered, waving new Cas over. It seemed that new Cas had just been waiting for the invite. He gained his knees and stumbled over to Dean on them, collapsing on Dean’s shoulder in a fresh wave of tears. Awkwardly, Dean curled an arm around his waist and drew him close to his side, studiously ignoring the voice in the back of his head. His Cas or not, this was still Cas and somehow, he didn’t think that a sobbing, gray-haired Cas was much of a threat, especially one looking at him like he’d personally hung the sun.
He shuffled a bit until his back was against the side of the bed, giving him a little more comfort to support the heavy weight pressing into his side. This Cas had beefed up at some point, gained muscle in the shoulders and arms, lost whatever softness there had been in the middle. This Cas had aged and scarred, lived and…
It hit him upside the head like the butt of Dad’s shotgun the night he caught Dean starting at another guy’s ass. This Cas was in love, and if the way he clung to Dean now was any indicator, it didn’t take much to figure out who the guy was in love with .
Completely unsure what the fuck to do with that information, he rubbed Cas’s back somewhat awkwardly while he waited for the aged up angel to calm down. It happened sooner rather than later, and Cas finally leaned back off Dean’s shoulder and sat next to him. It didn’t escape Dean’s notice that they were touching all along their sides, nor that Cas’s hand was covering his on the floor. After a moment of internal war where he didn’t have the first clue who was arguing for what outcome, he chose to leave it.
“I’m sorry, Dean. I didn’t mean to startle you-”
“That’s a tame version of what I’d call it, there, buddy.” Dean glanced over and realized this Cas must not have the sharp tongue that his Cas did. “Sorry, didn’t mean to… uh…” He closed his mouth and waved his hand vaguely, indicating the other should continue. After a tense moment, he did.
“I didn’t mean to startle you, I simply was not expecting to see you… Well, to see anything again, and then you were here. Not you you, I mean, not-” new Cas seemed to get flustered easily, Dean noticed.
“I’m not your Dean, just like you’re not my Cas,” Dean finished for him.
“Exactly,” this Cas sighed gratefully. “But this version of you is the one who turned your version of me into me .
“What do you mean?”
“You told me, quite recently for you if I recall, to ‘take my peace and shove it up my lily-white ass’,” Cas answers him, complete with air quotes. Good to know some things never change. “You also said ‘If there’s anything worth dying for, this is it’. That stayed with me, Dean. That shaped who I’ve become. I was actually just telling the other you something very similar.”
This Cas smiles softly, glances off into a corner to some memory of a different, older Dean. A tear slips out of his eye and floats down his cheek as he remembers, and some unknown impulse drives him to swipe it away with his finger. When Cas meets his eyes in surprise, he drops them awkwardly.
Dean finds himself frozen in place as crows-feet-Cas stares at him openly, lifting Dean’s covered hand from the floor to cradle it in both of his own. If he hadn’t figured it out earlier, his feelings would be painfully obvious now.
“You’re a bit more forward than I remember,” Dean states awkwardly, trying to break the growing silence between them. “Not saying I’m freaking out or anything,” he clarified quickly, remembering how sensitive this version of Cas was, “Just… don’t know what to make of it.”
Cas chuckled lightly and glanced down at Dean’s hand engulfed in his as he spoke. “I just got done baring my soul to my Dean before I… Well, before I landed here. I’m sorry if it bothers you, I know this version of you is a lot more-”
“Closeted,” Dean finishes for him. He freezes for a few seconds, wondering why the fuck he’d just said that. “I… I’m closeted, I guess is the word. But you probably already know that.”
“I suspected,” this Cas tells him slowly, trying to catch Dean’s eyes where they fixed stubbornly on his own knee. “But he-”
“How’d he react?” Dean cuts across, not wanting to hear that he might have fucked up and told the guy something he hadn’t revealed even who knew how many years later. Not wanting to hear that old him never left the closet either. “Your me, when you told him, what’d he say?”
“He didn’t get the chance,” Cas sighed sadly. “He was still absorbing it, I think, when I was taken.”
“Hang on, so you told… me, I guess, you loved him, correct? And then just vanished before he-I could say anything about it?”
“I was taken ,” Cas corrected him, showing the first sign of the attitude he was so very familiar with with his own version of the angel. “I wouldn’t have left if I had a choice in the matter. Not unless he told me he wanted me gone…”
“He wouldn’t have,” Dean’s mouth spoke again without his permission. Cas’s attention snapped to his face, and Dean’s eyes were drawn to meet his. “I mean, I wouldn’t if it were my Cas, so I can’t think why that me would…”
Dean cleared his throat roughly, feeling heat rise up to burn the skin of his neck and face. “Are you now? I mean, this version, my version of you. Is he in love with me now?”
Cas considered him carefully, quiet for a moment or two.
“He is,” came the answer slowly, “But he doesn’t recognize it for what it is yet. He’s confused, he hasn’t experienced emotions the way humans do. So he doesn’t know that what he’s feeling is love.” Cas regarded him carefully, making Dean feel like his soul was being x-rayed. “Do you want him to?”
Dean felt his face burn hotter, and it took everything in him not to attempt to cool it with his hands. Cas smiled at him knowingly, probably unsurprised that Dean wasn’t answering his question. Maybe he could tell that Dean was in complete denial.
“Well, if you do, give him this,” Cas told him softly, pulling a shimmering black feather from behind him with a wince. He placed it gently in Dean’s hand, folding Dean’s fingers around it. “He’ll understand what it means.”
Dean marveled over the feather in his hand, almost as long as his arm and twice as wide. Where was he even supposed to put it? The thing was fucking huge. Plus…
“So that means you’re not really dead, then?”
“I am, but not for long. I’ll be resurrected in a couple of days.”
“Resurrected? How?” Dean asked sharply, maybe more than intended.
Cas shook his head lightly. “He’ll tell you, it’s not my place. Besides… I don’t know how long I have here, or where I’m going to end up when I get pulled back to when I belong.”
“Let me guess, you want a little less talking and a little more skin,” Dean quipped easily, surprised at his own brazenness.
Cas laughed loud and hard, eyes crinkling at the sides to define the crows feet there.
“What’s with the aging?” Dean found himself asking. “The gray hair, the crows feet, the…” he gestured vaguely. “You told Claire vessels don’t age, what’s the deal?”
“They don’t have to age,” Cas corrected him. “But I chose to age, because I wanted to grow old with you in whatever limited way I could.”
Dean couldn’t identify why that was what did it, not even to himself. But something about that cheesy ass line had him leaning over to kiss the sappy angel sitting next to him. His lips were full and soft, completely unlike the dream or two he’d had about this happening.
As soon as he realized what he’d done, Dean froze in place. There was already a hand gripping the back of his head, holding completely still while Dean tried to figure out what the living fuck he thought he was doing. Cas was breathing almost exactly how Dean had the one time he’d lost a bet and gone running with Sam, as if there wasn’t enough oxygen in the air around them.
Dean let his eyes slip open, just enough to see the way Cas had frozen completely, waiting for Dean to make up his mind. Despite clearly wanting it worse than Dean had ever wanted anything in his life, this Cas was holding back, waiting for Dean to figure out what the fuck he wanted to do. Something about that sealed it for him.
Dean swung and turned himself in one movement until he straddled Cas’s thighs, perched on his lap. He made no move to kiss Cas again, and despite Dean’s clear decision based on his new position, Cas still waited for him.
“Yes, Cas. Yes.”
“Oh god,” he breathed, and pulled Dean in.
Dean surrendered himself to the way Cas was kissing him, loving, desperate and grieving all rolled into one. In that he also surrendered to himself, the part that he had stubbornly denied existed at all since he was twelve years old. He let go of himself and kissed Cas back with abandon for the thirty or so seconds that they had uninterrupted.
They pulled apart as a bright light flooded their eyelids, turning toward the glare as one. Dimly, Dean noticed that Cas had one hand firmly on his ass, but ignored it in favor of the glowing orange portal that had opened up in the room. A thrill of shock went down his spine when he recognized himself, with gray hair and crows feet that matched Cas.
The other him looked about as shocked to see himself making out with Cas as he was to see a portal in the damn motel room. Next to old him was Sam, tall and strong with more gray hair than Dean. They stood side by side, shoulders brushing together in a way that told Dean they’d worked their shit out. He and Sammy would be just fine, he could tell.
He was pulled away from this mesmerizing sight by Cas’s throat clearing.
“Guessing this is your stop, huh?”
“Indeed it is,” Cas answered quietly, running a finger down his cheek. “Thank you.”
Dean climbed awkwardly off his lap and stood, helping Cas to his feet. The moment seemed to hang in time, the four of them standing there on either side of a portal that Dean knew the other three recognized, and he couldn’t figure out why it was all suspended like this, what the other three seemed to be waiting for.
Then the motel room door opened and Sam, his baby faced, gullible idiot Sam, barged into the room like a moose and let the door slam closed behind him. His Sam froze, just like Dean had, clearly wondering what the ever living fuck was going on. The two of them could ponder that together later.
“What… the hell?”
Dean glanced from his Sam to the older version of them, saw old Sam ask someone out of sight if he ‘had it’, and then old Sam walked through the portal right into their room. Dean shifted his stance protectively while he watched old Sam cross the room to his brother, and he’d sort that mess later, to rest one big hand on the slightly scrawnier shoulder of his younger self.
“It all ends up okay,” old Sam said to his younger self. “Dean will forgive you, just give him time.” Old Sam and his Sam glanced over at him together, and he dropped his eyes. “More importantly, I forgive you.”
Having said his part, old Sam stepped back through the portal, and Dean met the eyes of his older self. The other just nodded at him slowly, then turned his gaze over to Cas.
“Time to come home, Cas.”
Cas grinned, happiness filling his features, and he pecked Dean on the cheek before stepping through to greet his own Dean. He caught a glimpse of old Dean’s arms wrapping around old Cas’s waist as the portal snapped closed, and then they were all gone. The only thing left behind of the few minutes Dean got is the long, black feather he’d placed on the bed. He picked it up and rolled the end of it between his fingers, watching the dim lights dance across its iridescence.
“What’s that?” Sam asked him quietly, clearly uncertain and more than a little shaken.
Dean sucked in a breath, ignoring Sam’s question. “I like guys,” he blurted out. “I mean, I like girls, yeah, obviously, that’s not… But I like guys too. I like guys, and I, uh… I really like Cas.”
Sam stared at him, long enough to make him wonder if maybe he should have kept his fat mouth shut. “You thought I didn’t know that?”
Despite how it was intended, Sam’s prior knowledge made Dean panic momentarily.
“It’s okay,” Sam assured him quickly. “I’ve known you’re bi for a long time, Dean. It’s cool with me. Hell, I experimented once or twice in college.”
“You what?” Dean exclaimed, taken off guard.
Sam grinned, “So when do we get Cas back?”
The answer was two days later, in a storage unit after having their asses handed to them by Zachariah. Dean’s stomach flipped when Cas surveyed him, and he looked away from his intense gaze. As soon as Cas had reappeared, though, he vanished again.
They found a new motel room and the first thing Sam did was promise to go find them something to eat, after he ‘took a walk’. The emphasis on the walk part of it made it clear what he thought Dean should do. The door closed behind Sam, and Dean counted to ten before he called out to Cas in the quiet of the room.
The sound of wings hit the air and he turned to greet a confused Castiel, up in his space as per usual.
“Hello, Dean.”
“Hey Cas. I, uh… I’ve got something to show you, I guess.” Dean fidgeted and dove for his duffel, pawing through it with shaky hands until he found the feather buried safely at the bottom. His hands shook as he pulled it out, and he could tell that Cas recognized it the moment he saw it.
“Where did you get that?” He asked Dean, tone almost sharp. He shifted forward into Dean’s space again, carefully running a finger along the length of his own feather. “This is mine, but…”
“A different version of you popped up a couple days ago,” Dean explained in a rush. “He looked older, uh, he was older. His version of me and Sam came to get him, but we, well…” Dean felt himself turning red and trailed off, switching gears. “He gave me that, told me to show you or give it to you, I can’t remember. But he said you’d know what it meant.”
“Did he tell you what it meant?” Cas asked him slowly, closer now than he had been a moment ago.
Dean shook his head, rendered silent by the intensity radiating from Castiel.
“What did he say? What did he tell you?”
Dean swallowed hard, debated frantically back and forth in his head before he spoke. “Why don’t you just have a look? Might be easier.”
Cas tilted his head to the side in confusion. “You are giving me permission to look into your mind?”
Dean scuffed the floor with the toe of his boot. “Yeah, just at this, anyway.”
Castiel placed two fingers on his forehead, and Dean’s mind drifted back toward the motel room with the other Cas. Whether it was drawn there by Cas looking for it or because he was already thinking about it, he didn’t know. He remembered the kisses and shut his eyes, knowing Cas was seeing everything. Moments later, Cas’s fingers left his head and the room was silent.
“Dean, look at me.”
Dean obeyed, his body didn’t even give him a choice in the matter before his eyes were opening to look directly at Cas. He swallowed hard and waited, tense.
“Angels gift a feather to their mates,” he informed Dean softly, spinning the feather in question back and forth between his fingers. “Is that what you want with me, Dean?”
“I mean, the word ‘mate’ is a bit clinical, but…” Dean shrugged, unable to meet Cas’s intense gaze.
“Angels do not do this halfway, Dean,” Cas whispered urgently. “We do not have ‘flings’,” again with the air quotes. “This isn’t just sex, Dean," and wow, Dean's brain hadn't made it quite that far yet. Cas held the feather up between them, drawing Dean’s eyes despite himself. “This is my complete devotion to you, and only to you, until the last star of this universe implodes into darkness.”
Dean’s mouth was dry, and his eyes were fixed on the subtle glow growing in the depths of Cas’s eyes as he spoke. One of his hands came up to cup Dean’s cheek, and for the life of him Dean didn’t know what the fuck to do with his own hands. He ended up resting them on Cas’s waist like a twelve year old.
“Is this what you want, Dean?”
A thousand things ran through his head in the space of the next five seconds, but his head had no involvement when his heart drove his mouth to answer.
“Yes.”
I'm begging for you to take my hand,
Wreck my plans,
That's my man.