Title: Just Listen

Author: Starrylizard

Fandom: Supernatural

Rating: Gen, PG (mild language)

Word Count: ~760

Summary: It was the wings that gave away the game. It was also the wings that sent Dean into fits of hysterical laughter.

Notes: requested by Charis_kalos who was sure there must be a story behind my new default icon at LJ. Hope it's what you were after. Beta by Rinne. :)


It was the wings that gave away the game. It was also the wings that sent Dean into fits of hysterical laughter.

John Winchester: Guardian Angel stood quietly, arms folded and waited for his son to get his shit together long enough to have a serious conversation.

A few deep breaths, some hiccups and a swig of whiskey later, Dean heaved a sigh.

"You done?" John's deep rumble was still the same as when he was alive - as was the plaid shirt, dark mess of hair and afternoon stubble.

The twinkle of mirth in his eyes, the humour in his voice and the barely suppressed grin currently emphasising his deep dimples weren't completely new to Dean, but they weren't something Dean had ever thought to see again. His Dad looked relaxed and strangely serene. The wings though…

"Yes, Sir," Dean answered, barely holding back another bark of laughter.

The wings were ethereal, soft and dainty, but also dark and just a little bit manly – not that Dean really had reason to think about wings as a manly accessory, though he assumed Castiel must have a set hidden somewhere. These wings looked rather as if they'd vanish into smoke if you tried to touch them.

"It's good to see you too, Dean."

"Dad." Dean took another deep breath and focussed on the man, rather than the wings. "It's just, you're an angel." He grinned, flashing dimples inherited from the angel who stood before him. "How is that even possible?"

One moment Dean had been dying. He was sure of it. The demons had him held down, knife poised and ready for some unpleasant medical treatment, and no bright ideas had been coming to him. Sam wasn't there to save him– and whose bright idea had it been to split up in the first place? Dean remembered berating himself mentally for that dumb-ass move, even as his muscles tensed and the knife sliced toward him… But instead of the pain and death he'd been expecting, the world split open with a brilliant, bright, white light. The demons screamed and burned. Dean found himself no longer held down. And standing there, palm outstretched as the light receded, was his dad… John Winchester with wings.

"There's a clause in the contract says we can't really talk about the how's and why's, but I'm your guardian angel, Dean. I only earned-" John paused, his lips quirking as he held back a chuckle, "-my wings recently. I thought I was too late after… That I'd taken too long. But your mother said not to give up and she was right as usual."

John stepped forward to squeeze Dean's shoulder and Dean realised he should say something.

"It's good to see you too, Dad." They hugged, Dean feeling the gentle breeze caused by his father's wings flapping against his hands where he held onto the back of his plaid shirt. "What about Sam?" Dean pulled back, sudden fear roiling in the pit of his belly.

"Your mother's got him. We can only step in once like this, but she keeps a good eye on him."

"You mean back at the old house with the spirit. When Mom came, that was?"

"Yeah." John nodded. "She was right all along. Angels are watching over you boys. That's what Guardian Angels are. Who else but family would want to stick their noses into their loved ones lives even after death?"

"Dad? I messed up. I couldn't protect him."

"No. You did good, kiddo. I wish I hadn't had to put that on you." John gripped Dean for a last hug, then pulled back to look Dean in the eyes. "I have to go now, damn angel rules, but listen. Send our love to Sammy and both of you listen. You're not alone. Your mother and I, we'll help any way we can. And you know I was never any good at following the rules."

The bright light swelled to engulf them both once more and then there was only Dean, standing in the abandoned motel room. Alone.

"Dean. If you need me, just listen. I'm always here." The deep rumble of a whisper seemed to come from just over his shoulder, but Dean knew there was nobody there even before he spun around.

Even after everything that had happened, Dean thought he felt ready to go on fighting for the first time in months. Some of the weight had lifted from his shoulders.

After all angels were watching over him. And this was finally one angel he was ready to trust.