A/N: And the end! Just a fun little ficlet before I continue working on my next book, but I hope you all enjoyed, and I truly appreciate all of your comments, and those of you who have mentioned getting my books.
Once again, I ask you all, please, if you enjoy my work, consider purchasing Incubus and Changeling. Paperbacks, eBooks, and audiobooks are available at BigWorldNetwork DOT com, and you can always find my work by Googling my name, Amanda Meuwissen.
Enjoy! And thanks again!
If Demons Saved Angels
Dean and Cas hadn't slept. Neither needed to. But they had laid in bed for some time, dozing contentedly, enjoying the dark and the quiet, the afterglow of their night together. Dean could hardly believe how much had happened in a day, how much had changed.
He leaned against the door of the kitchen, staring, arms crossed, at the domestic view of Cas in just his slacks and button down—not all the way buttoned—making breakfast. The angel had insisted. Dean was understandably worried.
"You do know that if you mess those up, 'Oh Lord, heal these pancakes' won't work the way mending bones does, right?"
Cas gave an amused grin over his shoulder. "I perfected making pancakes during my time as a human, Dean. I assure you. It was my one mortal triumph."
"Okay," Dean smirked, holding back on honest laugh. "But I thought you said everything tasted like molecules to you now?"
"I have a feeling…that will no longer be an issue," Cas said with another small smile.
Dean beamed back at him. He'd done something right for a change. Healed Cas. Given in to Cas. He moved into the kitchen and right up behind the adorable angel, whose wings were safely tucked away now in case Sam roused soon, and fit his arms around Cas' waist. Cas leaned back against him, his dark hair tickling the side of Dean's face.
"I'm sure they'll be awesome," Dean said softly into the angel's ear, then kissed his cheek and slid just as smoothly away again to grab some milk and orange juice out of the fridge.
Cas started humming—The Greatest American Hero theme song—and Dean felt a swell of affection in his chest. Life seemed unfairly blissful, and Dean fought to keep the age-old fear at bay that soon something would take his happiness away from him.
No. Not this time. Never again.
"Wow. Okay…now I might be worried," came Sam's voice from the doorway.
Dean turned around, milk and orange juice in hand, and set both cartons on the nearby kitchen table. "What?" Dean shrugged. "You gonna snub breakfast? Most important meal of the day."
Sam shook his head, his overly long hair still mussed from sleep, in his usual pajamas of a slightly baggier T-shirt and sleep pants. He padded barefoot into the kitchen, eyeing Cas at the stove. "I'm only half certain I'm not still asleep and dreaming this. You need any help, Cas?"
Cas flipped a nearly perfectly round pancake before glancing over his shoulder. "I have things under control."
"Mind if I steal Dean for a sec, then?"
"Of course not. I'll finish everything up and we can eat in a few minutes."
Sam nodded gratefully, though still visibly bemused, then turned to face Dean. Dean had already set out plates, silverware, and the butter and syrup they'd need earlier when Cas first suggested breakfast. He figured the angel could handle the rest.
As Dean followed Sam into the main area of the bunker, they approached the large table in the center but Sam didn't sit. "What's up, Sammy?" Dean asked. "You're not really worried, are you? It's just breakfast," he joked.
The sincere smile Sam offered dismissed any thought that he distrusted Dean, or Cas. "Not at all. Which is…part of the problem, I guess." His smile twitched and he sighed, glancing down at his bare feet before he looked back up to meet Dean's gaze. "Things are good, Dean. Really good. And I want them to stay that way for a change. We didn't get much time to talk after Crowley, and then with Cas here, and…I was dead on my feet last night. I don't remember the last time I slept so well. But the second I woke up, I knew we had to start things fresh, start things right this time around."
Dean nodded, patiently remaining silent so that Sam could finish what he wanted to say.
"I'm sorry, Dean. I did the one unforgiveable thing…saying we aren't brothers." Sam's puppy eyes shimmered. "It's not true, it never was, you know that. As soon as I was losing you, to the Mark, and the Blade, how you just weren't you anymore, and everything was going to hell for the millionth time, all I could think about was how I couldn't stand the thought of losing my brother again.
"We've both made mistakes, Dean, and neither of us is always good at admitting that, but the difference is, no matter what I do or how far I fall, you're always there, always willing to forgive me and take me back. I owed you the same, and I didn't deliver, and I'm sorry. I'm not saying we don't still need to work on how we do this…"
"I know," Dean said. "I know it's not fair that I keep acting like I know everything, like I'm always there for you, and then I go and screw things up again and lie right to your face…with Gadreel, with Cain."
"You didn't really trick me into saying yes to Gadreel, you know," Sam broke in. "I remember now, and…and I said yes to you, Dean, because I wanted you to save me."
"That's not an excuse for—"
"No it's not, but you didn't deserve how I reacted. You're always willing to do anything to save me, Dean, and I act like I wouldn't return the favor…and then I go and almost make another deal with Crowley, anyway, just like I said I'd never do…" He allowed himself to trail, took a deep breath. "When I say I want to start over, I mean it. Completely over. No more lies, no more doing things behind each other's backs, just us being us. I think a lie has been our undoing since the start of this, and we never seem to learn, do we? And we're both equally at fault for that."
There was no denying Sam's words, and every time it got easier to hide the truth, each of them always thinking it was for the greater good, or at least better for everyone involved to just live the lie. If they could take all those moments back…
Then Dean realized this was another of those moments, when he had the chance to start things right, and there was only one way to finally overcome the same pitfalls they kept succumbing to. He had to tell Sam the truth.
"You're right, Sammy. You're right," Dean said, letting his eyes drift to the table so he could steel himself for this. "So if we're gonna be better this time around, really better, I don't want to lie about anything. Not a damn thing. We gotta start this right. Last night…" Dean flicked his gaze up and froze as he met Sam's watery hazel eyes.
Sam looked at him earnestly to continue.
"Cas is walking on air in there, Sam, because I helped him heal his grace," Dean admitted. "I didn't know how, really, but I knew I could do it, and I did. Reached right in like we saw Cas do with Bobby, like how I saw Death do with you, and…touched his soul until it glowed bright again like it was meant to. He's 100% angel again, no threat of that changing."
"That's great, Dean," Sam said, reaching for Dean's shoulder and squeezing. "I don't need reassurance that you aren't some big bad we'll have to deal with some day, but if I did, I think healing an angel's grace would be pretty damning final evidence."
A smile stretched across Dean's face. "I sure hope so. But that's actually only the start of it."
Sam looked at Dean curiously, let his arm drop back to his side. "Can't be anything bad. He's making breakfast," he chuckled.
"It wasn't bad. It was…" Dean let his gaze drift away again as he remembered how the night had started from that point, after healing Cas, and everywhere it had gone afterwards. He still had no regrets. He felt nothing but peace—happiness. "I love him," he said simply, and met Sam's eyes again. "I love Cas, Sammy. Took me a long time to realize it, but I do."
He let that sink in a moment, and while Sam looked startled at first, his expression soon smoothed out as he waited for Dean to say more.
"Everyone always knew he had a thing for me—couldn't have been more obvious teasing me about it. Crowley. Balthazar…you. I didn't try to deny it last night, or how I feel for him in return. And…we did a little more than just talk out our feelings."
"Oh," Sam said, eyes widening as recognition dawned on him. He fought a smile. "Wow. So…would that have something to do with the crash I heard last night? More like something shattered. I thought I dreamed it."
"Light bulb by the bed," Dean nodded placidly. "Apparently angel orgasms are pretty potent."
Sam choked on what soon became a laugh as he shook his head at Dean and rolled his eyes. The smile, though, the sound, proved he didn't have any problem with this development, though there was a distinct impression of TMI.
Dean chuckled right along with Sam. "So yeah. That happened. Probably gonna happen again. Got Cas to offer breakfast this morning, though, so the aftermath seems to be working out pretty good so far." He chuckled again, and soon they were laughing—together, openly and loud.
Cas peeked his head out of the kitchen. "Breakfast is finished. However, I have not perfected how to make eggs. There are only pancakes. And you are now out of eggs. Is something amusing?"
Dean and Sam erupted into further laughter before finally composing themselves when Cas stepped out of the kitchen with his patented puzzled expression, as if he wasn't entirely certain if he should be offended; if they were laughing at him.
"It's fine, Cas," Sam said at last, "pancakes sound great. We can take stock of supplies today and hit the town later for anything we might need. Lots to plan for, I guess."
"Nah, not today," Dean said, as they turned to head for the kitchen, the three of them entering together and taking seats around the table, which Cas had laid out to perfection. The smell of burnt eggs only slightly soured the general smell of delicious breakfast in the kitchen, and a little steam was still rising from the sink where Cas had soaked the delinquent pan.
Dean poured himself some orange juice. At first he thought he wasn't hungry, he didn't need to eat after all, but now that he smelled the food and looked at the spread, he wanted it, and he felt a familiar human rumble in his stomach. He happily indulged and gave in to his cravings without reservation.
"I'm thinking we should have a slow day and stay in," Dean said. "Crowley said he'd be a few days. There's nothing pressing that needs our attention, and you know what, we deserve a vacation. Not quite the same without Charlie, but…Game of Thrones season two? You got all the pop culture stuff in your hand now, right?" he turned to Cas, "You probably already know what happens."
Cas thought about that a moment then started to open his mouth.
"No spoilers!" Dean said quickly. "The experience of watching it is better than knowing, Cas. Plus I wanna be surprised. Sound like a plan?"
Sam hummed around a mouthful of pancake. Apparently, Cas wasn't wrong about perfecting how to make them. He swallowed and said, "I wanna shower first, but…I'm game for that."
"It would be…nice," Cas agreed.
"Awesome," Dean said before taking his first large bite of breakfast. It didn't taste like molecules; it tasted amazing. The look on Cas' face as he took a bite proved it was the same for him.
At least for a little while, they could have a normal day, and everything was right with the world.
Taking a break didn't mean Dean forget about the road ahead, or their plans with Crowley, but he felt confident that he'd be ready to hit the road and meet his new challenges head on once Crowley came knocking on their door again. For now, he wanted to relax and enjoy some time with his family. He wished a few more members were still around, but it was a start.
That night, after Sam had gone to bed with a quick word of warning that Dean and Cas had to at least keep things private, no sex in common areas—and Dean, in keeping with their newfound vow to always be honest, explained that they'd have to try harder next time then—Dean spent some time with Cas organizing his new room. Then kissing on the bed. Then trying to see how much they could do before the lights started flickering.
But eventually, Dean excused himself for a little fresh air. Not that he'd ever gotten the sleep he needed as a hunter, but now that he didn't need sleep, he felt an itch to be active, to accomplish something, but as he also still had a feeling of needing to relax and enjoy his time off, he settled for some time with his thoughts.
He walked out of the bunker and around up the hill the bunker was built under until he reached the very top. Is was late now, a clear dark night with stars and the moon shining above him. He stood at the tallest point of the hill and looked at the moon intently.
Crowley's speech came back to him, the first words he had heard clearly when he reawakened as a new man. The King of Hell had a tendency for flowery poetics, and yet Dean had felt something stir inside of him as he heard those words. He felt a little of that stirring now, and considering a whole new world of possibilities and people to save laid before him, he couldn't help himself.
He threw his head back and howled.
He sensed Crowley before he saw him.
"Not a damn word," Dean said with a note of fondness he couldn't—wouldn't hide.
"Wouldn't dream of it," Crowley's lilting accented voice replied. "Not to rush you or anything, you're welcome to take your time adjusted and playing house with your boys down there, but…ready to take on Hell, Heaven, and the whole, big bad world, Dean?"
Dean kept his eyes forward, his head tilted slightly up at the shining moon, but he felt himself connected straight down into the bunker and to the men beneath his feet. He felt a pull and connection to Crowley, someone who had once been his enemy, standing now at his back—who had his back. He felt like there was a part of himself in the very fabric of the future. And while that all seemed a little too hokey for him to take seriously, the idea of having a future he could look forward to, made it all seem a little more worthwhile and possible.
Dean turned around, met Crowley's smirking gaze…and smiled.
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