With 'Caged Heat' having just aired I'm feeling a bit...dead, on the destiel front. Not really liking the new series much. So to that end, here is, what is probably going to be the last part of this fic. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, they seriously make my day. Hope you enjoyed it and if you didn't, hey, then you write one - there isn't enough incest for this pairing.

BTW – just remembered what inspired this – Check out 'A Wincest Story' (author unknown at this point) if you get the chance, it's fluffy and not really smutty at all – but this is where my mind went from it.

Dean is 43 – Castiel is 2,480,329

Dean's already taken stock of himself, gone through the weirdness of being nineteen again. He feels weird knowing that what he thought of that morning as a fully formed body, has yet to develop the bulk, the sheer mass he's become used to. He feels small, defenceless.

Dean finds Castiel sitting on a plastic chair outside of the interview room. It's weird to look at him, to see a slightly coltish teenager in place of his other self, his vessel. His memories are still a little shaky, his real life fitting together with his trickster-enhanced existence. But he can remember Castiel the way he looked, looks, in reality. Older, stronger and alien in the body of Jimmy Novak. The kid in the oversized plaid shirt, bundled tightly into himself on the chair, is not the same man. And yet he is, inside him, somewhere, is an angel.

It's Castiel, comrade, saviour, infuriating presence, traitor, friend and immortal being. Who curled a hand around his wrist, turned him from Alistair's rack and murmured 'You can stop now.'

But he's also his brother, his saviour, an infuriating presence, his friend, his family. Who kissed him, held him in the grips of another nightmare and whispered, 'It's ok, I'm here.'

Add to that the fact that he can remember the taste of him, can recall in Technicolor detail every touch he's laid on the skin before him. Every lick and thrust embedded in the memory of muscles that just want to reach for him and feel him, to make sure he's still there...well, it's an awkward situation.

Castiel looks up, wide blue eyes weighted with knowledge and age. His tense face relaxes, then stiffens, as his natural reaction to Dean is overtaken by the expectation of anger.

Dean lowers himself into the seat next to him.

"Your family? Is screwed up." He mutters, no trace of humour making it into the words.

"Gabriel didn't mean for this to happen" Castiel replies, like he feels he should defend his other brother. (only brother, Dean corrects himself, or at least 'one of thousands that don't include Dean Winchester).

"He should have known something would. I mean, when do I ever get things right?"


"No" he cuts him off, adult anger mixing with teenage angst, dropping like a burning plane into the pit of his stomach. "It's...I failed at being a brother the first time round, I let Sam die, more than once. I let him turn into a monster." He almost chokes on the word. "I failed Dad, my Mom's family, Bobby...I failed you... I wasn't righteous enough, I didn't believe in anything, except Sam...I nearly ruined everything, anything that ever was, especially you."

"You did not fail"

Dean laughs bitterly, stopping only when a warm hand drops to his knee, a gentle touch that draws him back to the man sitting beside him.

"You succeeded where countless angels had failed. You defeated Lucifer. You stopped them from obliterating existence." He drives the point home, gently and insistently, knowing Dean can't argue. "And...you were an excellent brother, to both Sam and...myself."

"Brothers don't..."

"Brother's love each other." Castiel's tone brooks no argument. "And you continued to love Sam even when you found his choices to be unequivocally poor." He pauses and seems to lose his angels certainty, becoming almost visibly smaller and more human. "You loved me even though I wanted you, knowing it would cause you distress. Knowing how much it would cost you." Guilt edges those words, and for the first time Dean wonders what Castiel has been thinking these past weeks. That maybe he considers himself the downfall of their chaste existence.

"Cas...about, what happened? It wasn't your fault, you know that, right? I mean...those memories Gabriel gave us, I felt things about them, about you, that weren't, entirely... and that was before we did anything." Castiel blinks, registering the meaning of Dean's words. The gentle arm laid over his shoulders is another surprise, and he hesitates, resisting it slightly. Dean looks worried.

"This is...if you don't want me to, I won't."

Castiel moves with the arm, allowing Dean to hold him, pressing his back into the familiar chest and closing his eyes briefly.

"I love you Cas" Dean buries his face in the messy dark hair of his brother, the angel Castiel.

"I love you too." Sleepily he opens his eyes, searching those above him for hesitance or conflict, finding none.

"What do we do now?" Dean murmurs, hands gently finding places on Castiel's body to soothe and stroke, reassuring himself that it's the same body he entered last night, the same body that loved him back.

"We'll wake up as we should be tomorrow." Castiel sighs, "And there will be demons and war, as it was."


"And...I will stay with you." He wraps hesitant fingers through Dean's "I would like to stay...brother"

"Always welcome" Dean grins, light voiced, though he catches a faint gleam in Castiel's eye, something not unlike desire, that makes him feel just the tiniest bit hopeful about the future.

Because they'll never be just angel and prophesised saviour, not that it was a simpler relationship. And they aren't Castiel Winchester and Dean Winchester, teenage lovers, product of the same parents.

But they're still brothers, in the ways that count.

And in a way entirely unique to themselves.