12 x 06 CODA
Dean brings Cas to the next hunter gathering.
Fortunately, this one isn’t a wake. It’s just a party, an actual celebration, hunters getting together to tell tall tales and drink, to dance and hook up, to spend an evening in the company of people who get it.
He pulls Cas to a group he remembers from Asa’s funeral, all leather jackets and beards and gunpowder lingering on their skin.
“Dean Winchester,” one of them hollers, raising his beer bottle in salute. “Good to see you again.”
“Good to be here, man.” It’s still strange to have everyone looking at him like he’s some sort of celebrity, and he’s caught once again between embarrassment and pride. “This is Cas,” he continues.
Cas nods politely, but his smile drops when he sees the wide-eyed stares.
“Cas? As in Castiel?” One of the men asks.
“That’s right,” Cas says hesitantly, and Dean tenses, wondering what the reaction is going to be.
A slow and easy smile spreads over the face of the man who seems to be the leader of the group. “So this is your angel. Welcome to the club. Grab a drink.”
Dean huffs a sigh of relief, and they spend the rest of the evening having more fun than Dean can remember having in a long time.
When they get to the motel later that night, still a full day’s drive from the bunker, Cas doesn’t follow him into the room.
“What is it, Cas?”
“Nothing.” But he shifts his weight and stares at the ground, mouth opening, then closing again as he changes his mind.
“Talk to me,” Dean says, setting his bag on the hood of the car and giving Cas his full attention.
“Was that man correct tonight? Am I your angel?”
Dean isn’t expecting that question. He stares at Cas for a moment as his mind races.
Truthfully, those words have been echoing in his mind since the man said them. All night, as he joked and laughed with the other hunters, he had been too aware of Cas next to him, a magnet that moved when he moved, that pulled him back if he wandered too far.
And isn’t that the way it had always been? Haven’t they both sacrificed everything for each other over and over again? Wouldn’t they both die for the other in a heartbeat? And even if he’s never admitted it out loud before, Dean always feels better, more whole somehow, when Cas is there with him.
Dean thinks about the other hunters, how they never hesitate to grab love and connection where they can get it, how they say what they mean every moment of the day and never hold back affection, how they know that every second might be the last one, that there is no “maybe someday”.
Dean’s getting old enough that he knows “maybe someday” probably won’t ever come.
And in that moment, he doesn’t want to miss any more chances.
“Yeah, Cas,” he says, voice a little thick and nervous. “I guess you are.”
Cas doesn’t say anything, but those blue eyes have never looked so bright, and that goddamn smile of his shines through Dean with so much warmth he can’t stand it.
“C’mon.” Dean heads for the motel room, knowing that Cas, his angel, is right behind him