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~~~~~~~~~
God, this felt good. Especially after everything that had happened, this was comfort. Dean ran his hand over hard, less-than-human lines, whispering, "I know what you want, what you need." Tenderly with an expert touch, he reach up and twisted.
"There ya go, baby. You know I'll always take care of you." Dean stroked the smooth undercarriage of his baby as the viscous, slightly off colour oil drained from the open oil pan. "Okay baby, you let it all out and I'll be back in a few," he said, sliding out from under the 1.6 tons of well cared for machinery. Dean pulled out a rag and began to remove the first few layers of grease and grime from his hands.
Dusk had fallen while he was taking care of his baby, and the chill in the autumn air caused Dean's skin to tingle, reminding him that he was alive. Fireflies flittered in the darkening light, flashes of green and amber in an ancient mating dance. Dean found himself smiling- this was why they fought and it didn't matter how many people took it for granted. It, this beauty and peace, existed and that was enough.
Leaning back against the remains of a rusty Plymouth, Dean grabbed the beer he'd left balanced on the Plymouth's frame and chuckled at the flashing green insect sitting on the lip. "Get your own," he quipped as he gently blew the bug off his beer.
He sighed. "Cas, I know you're there. Stop playing stalker-angel and show yourself."
"I did not wish to disturb you," the angel explained dryly.
"You're not disturbing me, Cas," Dean informed the angel. "You're keeping me company." What Dean didn't say was that moments like this were best shared- especially when it was with someone you cared for.
"You know, I know the world's ending, Luce is after Sammy, damn angels are after all of us, Bobby's in that damn chair, but..."
Castiel tilted his head curiously, waiting for his charge to continue.
Dean took a swig and sighed, "...this is good. This," he made a swinging gesture, taking in the entire junkyard, the fireflies, Castiel, the Impala, and the world at large, "working on the Impala, cold beer," he set the bottle down as he spoke, "clear skies, you."
The angel let a fond smile play at his lips, "You are a very spiritual person, Dean- regardless of if you believe it or not."
"Sure Cas, ‘cause people who hustle pool, torture souls in Hell, and take angels to brothels are known for being so spiritual."
Castiel glared. "You are the most exasperating man at times," he growled.
"Another truly spiritual indicator," Dean added sarcastically, somehow managing to convey both cockiness and self-loathing in his words.
"My brothers and sisters fought the legions of Hell to get to you, doesn't that prove your worth?"
"Cas, your brothers and sisters only wanted me for my meat suit!"
The angel ducked his head and pursed his lips. "Dean, we fought because we believed in your soul, not because of your flesh."
"Doesn't change the facts, Cas- I'm anything but righteous."
"Do you honestly believe that I could turn my back on my brothers and sisters and follow you if I didn't believe?"
Crystal blue eyes bore into Dean like lasers. "You forget, Dean, I have seen you in your basest form, and what I saw was worth all the years of fighting and more. I still believe. Nonci chis pele, casarmg chiso obelison. De congamphlgh vgeg. De monons samvelg. Nonci chis tol murifri corsi l gil.
Dean closed his eyes, Cas' words seeming to burn his soul even though he didn't understand them. Vainly attempting to feign anger, he growled, "Don't start with the angel babble, Ca-" he opened his eyes to glare at his angel, only to find him gone. "Damn angel," he muttered, returning his attention to his baby.
***
Dean waited until Bobby and Sam had gone to bed before easing himself into the elder hunter's study. Methodically he began pulling texts from Bobby's immense collection. Text's with titles like The Enochian Evocation of Dr. John Dee, Mysteriorum Libri Quinti, The Golden Dawn, Enochian Chess, Liber Scientiae, Mysteria Magica, Vision and the Voice, and Gmicalzoma! (which Dean suspected was newly acquired solely because of their resident angel), which he spread over Bobby's already cluttered desk.
---
It was just after four in the morning when Castiel angel-ed into Bobby's living room. There he found Dean asleep in one of Bobby's large leather chairs, his head tilted to the side, chin resting on his shoulder, a book open, resting on his chest. Castiel allowed his lips to curl up in a rare smile, ghosting his hand over Dean's hair.
Watching his hunter sleep, for once almost peacefully, Castiel was reminded of why he'd chosen to follow Dean. It was for these humans his father loved so much, for the love one brother has for another, for the good in people, for those who fight against the darkness, who risk themselves to save others. Castiel thought about all this and he knew to the core of his being, he had chosen right. With a fond, tender kiss to Dean's forehead he was gone, never noticing the book Dean had been reading.
Dean jerked awake to a fluttering of wings, Bobby's copy of Mysteriorum Libri Quinti falling with a thud from it's resting place on his chest. "Cas?" he called, looking around for his angel. When Castiel was nowhere to be found, he rubbed his face in his hands, widening his eyes and yawning. "Great, now I'm imagining him." Dean retrieved the book from the floor and groggily returned to the study.
He looked at the texts, some ancient, some not-so-ancient, laying across Bobby's desk. Moving one of the larger volumes, Dean picked up the pad with his notes on it. Looking over the rough translation, he shock his head. His eyes pleading with the words to change, form some other meaning. "I'm not worth it, Cas. I never was," he added sadly, before putting up the books and returning the study to something that passed for normalcy.
*********
All through their next hunt, Dean was distracted. A fact he tried to hide behind jokes and bravado whenever Sam brought it up. But Dean knew it was true, ever since he'd translated Cas' words, he'd only been half in the here and now, the rest of him was trying to figure out how to tell his precious angel (and he sooooo did not just think that) that he wasn't worth it- any of it, the angel's faith or love. He had the insane notion that if he took the time to learn the words, to be able to tell Cas in his own language, perhaps that would get the message through.
He'd gone so far as to find a few would-be dictionaries on-line, very basic and bare-bones stuff, but it gave him a starting point- he could work out the details next time they were at Bobby's.
At least that had been the plan until the banshee they'd been hunting took a swipe out of Dean's side.
Even with the bloody injury, he and Sam were able to destroy the thing, before hightailing it back to their motel.
Sam helped his brother to the bed, almost dropping him with a loud "oomph" that could have come from the bed or his brother.
Two fifths of Tennessee's Finest, some water soluble sutures, a fine sewing needle, and several packs of butterfly bandages later and Dean was as patched up as he would get outside a hospital. When Sam finished dressing his brother's wounds and worked him under the scratchy motel blankets, he collapsed on his own bed for the night.
Sam was just drifting off, when he heard the muted chords of Blind as a Bat coming from Dean's clothes. Scrambling through the discarded clothes, he found the phone and flipped it open, "Hello."
"Sam? Where's Dean?" the gruff voice of the angel sounded full of uncharacteristic concern when the younger Winchester answered his brother's phone.
"He's here, Cas, just..."
"Just what, Sam," Castiel demanded.
"He got hurt- bad. I patched him up best I could. I'll get him to Bobby's in the morning."
He was met with silence from the other end of the phone. "Cas?"
"Where are you?"
"Farson, Wyoming, Sitzman's Motel off Route 191, room 26-"
Before Sam could say more, there was a flutter of wings and one overprotective angel looming over Dean's injured body.
Discerning blue eyes roamed over the hunter, assessing his injuries. Castiel cocked his head in a way that was more concentration than curiosity. "I should take him to Bobby's; it will be easier to ten to his needs there."
Without waiting for Sam's response, Castiel had vanished with Dean.
Instinctively, Sam dialled Bobby's number.
"Grand Central Station," the older hunter groused into the receiver.
"Bobby, Dean and Cas-" the words tumbled quickly from his mouth.
"Calm down, boy. They're here. Scared the ever livin' shit outta me zappin' in like that; don't think I'll ever get used to that angel mojo."
From the other end of the line Sam snorted, "Tell me about it. I'll be there in the morning, alright Bobby."
"Hmph, it sure as hell ain't alright! Your brother's bleedin' on my guest sheets and I'm not gonna be the one to tell him you totalled that car or that I had to scrape you off the pavement. You just get some sleep and get here when ya can."
Sam tried not to chuckle at the older man's particular brand of affection. "You sure, Bobby?"
"Damn right I'm sure! Now get at bed!" Bobby hung up growling, "Idjit," fondly at the phone, then wheeled himself over to see what the damn angel was up to.
If it had been anyone else, Bobby would have been shocked. Perhaps it was because Castiel was an honest to God "Angel of the Lord", or, more likely, because he was "Dean's Angel", whatever the reason, Bobby took comfort in the sight of Castiel sitting beside Dean on the bed, running a soothing hand over the man's brow. The scene caused the Bobby to smile for the first time in too long- it may be the End of Days, but his boys, especially Dean, deserved some happiness.
He closed the door and head back to bed, knowing the angel would get him if he was needed.
Castiel heard the soft click of the door closing and was thankful to the older hunter for the added privacy.
"Dean, you must be more careful," the angel chastised his charge as if Dean's unconscious form could hear him. "Before, I was not allowed to heal you; now, it is no longer within my power." Castiel leant down and kissed Dean's forehead, "I am lost, Dean. Cut off from my brothers and sisters, our Father missing, and the only beacon I have I must rely on this device," he scowled at the cell phone Dean had given him, "to find you. So, you see, you have to take care. You are all I have."
To Castiel's surprise Dean stirred, not quite reaching consciousness, but his lips began to move mouthing foreign syllables. "...amma aviation... Nochi... ....turbs pambt zirdo amma... nochi said turbs... zirdo... ...aziazior babalon nochi... ...pambt..."
Broken as it was, Castiel still understood. If an angel of the Lord could gape that was what Castiel would've been doing. As it was he stared and tilted his head the way he always did when Dean confused him. Pushing his concerns away Castiel spent the next several hours, sitting quietly, comforting his hunter. He carefully clean Dean's wounds and changed his dressings every couple of hours until Sam arrived.
---
Dean awoke that evening, sore, aching, and hungry. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dark room. He was at Bobby's- the smell of home cooking, motor oil, and "home" told him that much- and someone was stretched out in a chair beside the bed. "Cas?" he called hesitantly. No sooner had the name rolled passed his lips than he knew the figure wasn't his angel; the electric charge he felt in the air whenever the angel was around was absent, which meant, "Sammy?"
The lanky form leaned forward, "Yeah, Dean. ‘m right here."
"What the Hell happened?"
"That banshee we were after, tried to get you before we got it."
"We did get it, right?"
"Yeah, we got it." Sam was quiet for a heavy moment. "It got you bad."
The elder Winchester pushed himself up to a sitting position, "Well, looks like I'm still here."
Sam huffed out a harsh breath, "Dean. You scared us. You scared Cas."
"Cas was here?"
Sam nodded, "He's the one who brought you here. Stayed with you until I got here this morning."
Dean sighed, he wished the angel had stuck around. Maybe with Cas' attention focused on Dean, rather than the apocalypse, he could've gotten the stubborn angel to listen to him. Before Sammy could question him or his silence, Dean did what was expected of him- "Anything to eat around here?"
Shaking his head as he stood, Sam chuckled, "At least we know you're okay- half dead and still thinking' with your stomach."
"Hey!" Dean managed to sound offended, "Not my fault evil and my stomach are the two things that never sleep."
With a fond smirk, and a quiet, "That explains New York," Sam left to raid Bobby's kitchen.
*********
Dean was a terrible patient. A fact both Sam and Bobby had known for years and years... and years, and unfortunately for them, it was not something that improved with age.
Not surprisingly, the first few days at Bobby's, Sam was seriously considering tying his brother to the bed. The elder Winchester kept trying to get out of bed- he even offered to do research, if it meant they'd let him walk around.
Finally, almost a week later, his captors released him from his enforced bed rest.
When Bobby and Sam told him, Dean all but jumped off the bed.
"Careful ya idjit! Rip that patchwork quilt you call a side and we will tie you down, boy."
Safely behind Bobby, Sam chuckled.
Rolling his eyes, Dean replied, "Yes, Mother."
"Damn straight, someone's gotta look out for you two miscreants. Guess I just got lucky," Bobby groused as he made his way towards his study.
"Seriously, Dean be careful, they're still pretty fresh."
"Hey, remember who's supposed to mother hen who, okay?" he teased, always the protective big brother.
"Yeah, I know," Sam admitted, before leaving his brother to get dressed.
As Dean got dressed his thoughts turned to his angel. He felt like he hadn't seen Cas in months, the angel had become that much a part of his life. Dean knew he could have picked up the phone and called the angel, but he refused to act like a needy girl while he was bedridden. But now that he was up and about, he could call Cas, just to check in, of course, and check on his baby.
---
Dean limped towards the stall that had become his baby's- Bobby always made sure it was open for Dean and the Impala.
"Hey baby," he said as he ran his hand lovingly over her hood. "You miss me?" Dean's hand moved up the windshield and over her roof. He laid his cheek against the cool metal frame of his baby, just feeling the vibrations and listening to the soft creaks of readjusting metal.
"Hello, Dean," the harsh, melodious tones, like an old wool blanket, wrapped comfortingly around Dean.
The hunter smiled against the Impala.
"You look... well."
Dean laughed sarcastically, but his bright smile was heartfelt.
Castiel lowered his gaze from Dean's beautiful face, "Dean, there is something me... must discuss."
Dean hung his head afraid of where this conversation might lead, and afraid he would lose his angel forever, "Cas? Do we have to do this now?"
"Yes Dean, I do not believe this can wait," Castiel replied with all the intensity and authority of an angel of the Lord imparting the word of God to a ‘mere' mortal.
Dean nodded sadly, pressing his forehead once again to the cool comfort of his baby. Looked like they were going to have this conversation whether he was ready for it or not
"You were wrong," Castiel stated flatly.
Snorting, "Not surprising there, Cas- comes with being human."
Dean may have imagined it but he swore Cas rolled his eyes.
Words dripped from Castiel's lips, music resonating like the perfect notes of fine crystal, "Zirdo amma, aziazior babalon. Nochi said turbs pambt."
Dean stared wide-eyed at the angel, feeling, not for the first time in his presence, like a deer in the headlights as he recognized the words he'd planned to sat to his angel.
When Castiel finished, he added with a self-assured air, "You were wrong."
"Cas..."
"No you will hear me out," Castiel growled. "All of Father's creations are flawed- it is what gives them beauty and the ability to create and grow and change. It is their blessing.
"You are a leader and a champion- not because you were meant to be Michael's vessel, but because it is who you are. Selfless, caring, insufferably stubborn- pigheaded even, but everything you do you do because it's right. It is what makes you special- special among humans, special to the angels, and one of the many things that make you special to me." As he spoke, Castiel moved steadily closer to his hunter until his final word blew across the shell of Dean's ear causing the man to shiver.
Castiel backed away slightly, giving Dean room to turn and face him.
When he did, Castiel ran a slim finger over his face, in what he hoped was a comforting gesture as his clear blue eyes drilled into Dean's soul, wishing he could etch the truth of his words on Dean's soul as easily as he'd carved the protective sigils into his bones.
"Cas," he begged- for what he didn't know, but he hoped his angel would.
Cupping Dean's face in his hands, gentle enough to stroke the wings of a butterfly and powerful enough to influence life and death, "Dean, shut up."
Then Cas' lips were on Dean's and it was too late.
Too late for well thought out arguments. Too late for witty comebacks. Too late for anything other than relinquishing his doubts and concerns and every conceivable reason Dean had for denting himself this.
As he pulled back from the kiss, saw the look of love, hunger, and need in his angel's too-blue eyes, he muttered the words he never thought he'd say to the creature he loved, "Nonci chis limlal."
Castiel laughed and pulled Dean to him, "I love you, too, Dean. Always."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
These are very loose translations as I, unfortunately, do not happen to have a copy of Gmicalzoma! lying around collecting dust, lol.
-Nonci chis pele, casarmg chiso obelison. De congamphlgh vgeg. De monons samvelg. Nonci chis tol murifri corsi l gil.
-You work wonders, you shall deliver us. Your spirit is strong. Your heart is pure. You are all an angel such as I want.
-Zirdo amma, aziazior babalon. Nochi said turbs pambt.
-I am cursed, a reflection of wickedness. You are a wonder and beautiful to me.
-Nonci chis limlal.
-You are my treasure.