Archive of Our Own ^beta

The bunker hums quietly, like it always does, but its rhythm seems more upbeat if you ask Dean. Ever since Castiel returned from The Empty, everything is lighter; there is color where before there was only gray and black. Dean can smile again, truly smile, not that forced grimace he had to put on for Sammy’s sake when he would ask if he was alright.

That doesn’t mean that things have been easy for any of them. Sam and Dean were ecstatic when Castiel was returned to them, and in awe that Jack finally succeeded in brokering a deal with The Empty and brought Castiel back to the Winchesters.

Castiel was an angel no more, his grace left behind in that endlessly dark and desperate place. Forever. Jack made that clear. Castiel would never be an angel again.

Dean still doesn’t know if that is why Castiel has not spoken one word over the last three days or if there is another reason for his silence. When he materialized within the Bunker, the ex-angel looked as white as a ghost, shivering uncontrollably and his body was drawn up, curled on the floor, his arms wrapped tightly around himself. His eyes had been wild, and he flinched when Sam and Dean tried to help him off the floor of the library.

It must have been shock, the brothers decided. This time Castiel had been in The Empty for much longer than before, and they still didn’t know how long that felt to the angel, or what The Empty did to him during that time.

Carefully, they had taken Castiel to his room, and helped him into bed, where he quickly fell into a fitful sleep.

For three days all Castiel did was sleep, eat whatever Dean brought him to his room, and make quick trips to the bathroom. All without saying a word, not answering any of Dean and Sam’s questions.

There were many scenarios that crossed Dean’s mind in which Castiel returned, but none of them were like this one, and in all the ones Dean had imagined, he had spoken to Castiel about his own feelings, reassuring him that he was loved. That he’d been loved for a long time, and there was nothing that Dean wouldn’t give him, wouldn’t do for him. Now, he doesn’t see this chat happening any time soon considering how Castiel has been behaving.

But Dean is still happy. His angel is back. He doesn’t care that he is human; all that matters is that Castiel is back, sleeping in his old room. The rest can wait.

To Dean’s surprise, on the third evening Castiel finally exits his room to shower. Hearing the sounds of running water from the bunker showers, Dean quickly makes his way to bring fresh clothes to Castiel’s room. His own clothes clearly. Soft flannel pajama bottoms and his favorite long-sleeved t-shirt. Dean's lips curve into a small, warm smile as he thinks about going out with Castiel on a clothes shopping trip and the joy it would bring the angel, while he hurries to the kitchen to heat up the stew he prepared earlier.

He hovers around, listening to the sounds of the shower, waiting for it to stop. A few minutes after Castiel returned to his room, Dean knocks softly on his door, waiting a few moments before pushing the door open.

“Hey Cas, I brought you dinner.”

Castiel is sitting upright in his bed instead of hiding away under the covers, and the sight brings a wide smile to Dean’s lips.

It is difficult to ignore the intense gaze of the former angel as Dean places the tray carefully over his lap, so he starts babbling about The Falcon and the Winter Soldier TV series.

“Cas, when you feel up to it, we must watch together The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. It’s a TV series set in the Marvel Universe. I’m sure you’ll love it! It’s sort of an epilogue to Avengers: Endgame.”

Castiel squints at him, and Dean slaps his forehead dramatically.

“Silly me! You haven’t seen Endgame either! No worries, we will watch all the Avengers movies. They are awesome.”

Dean grins, and he can’t help feeling warmth spread through his chest when Castiel gives him a slight nod, and the smallest of smiles.

When Dean returns to the kitchen, he feels light as a feather, and is humming under his breath Eye of the Tiger.

His brother is eating yogurt, leaning against the counter, his eyes taking in Dean’s obvious happiness.

“Castiel is better, isn’t he?” Sam says with a smile on his face.

“Yes, yes he is!” Dean answers excitedly, not paying attention to his brother. He continues to hum as he washes the dishes, and all Sam can do is shake his head fondly.

Sam is usually the first one to rise these days, going on a run as soon as the sun is up or not long after, but on this morning, it is Dean who jumps out of his bed at six-thirty. He usually needs at least a cup of coffee before he is truly awake, but this morning is different. Excitement rushes through him, thinking of Castiel and spending time with him. Maybe today he will join them for breakfast, and many options run through Dean’s mind. Pancakes, French toast, bacon, omelet, scrambled eggs, breakfast burritos—Dean can and will make anything for Castiel. Anything he wants.

He is up and dressed in less than five minutes and on his way to the kitchen when the sight of the open door to Castiel’s bedroom stops him in his tracks. Slowly, he steps closer and peeks in, frowning as he quickly searches for any signs of the angel in the empty room.

There are no other noises in the bunker, but he still rushes to the bathroom, the kitchen and the library, even to the Dean cave to check if Castiel is there.

His breaths are coming fast, and not because of the effort he spent running through the bunker, his chest tightening quickly with a feeling of despair. This cannot be. Castiel cannot be gone again. This is not happening.

He searched almost all the corners of the bunker when Sam stepped out of his room, rubbing his eyes.

“Dean? What’s going on?”

“Cas! Cas is gone!”

Dean doesn’t wait for his brother’s questions; he rushes to the stairs that lead to the Bunker entrance and runs out like the wind, still hoping that Castiel is not far.

The sun is not up yet, but the skies are light, and Dean looks quickly around.

The earth is still soft after last night’s rain, and his hope surges when his eyes fall on freshly made footprints. He runs faster than ever, and in no time at all, he stands at the top of the hill above the bunker.

There is a large boulder there with a flat top, and Dean sighs in relief at the dark shadow of a man sitting on that boulder.

He approaches slowly, unwilling to startle Castiel. The air is crisp, but not cold; the only sounds around them are those of birds waking from their slumber.

Castiel doesn’t give any signs that he is aware of Dean’s presence, his eyes fixed on the horizon where orange-red colors paint the sky in preparation for the sun’s arrival.

Dean sits on the boulder, only an inch or two away from the angel, so close that he can feel the warmth emanating from him.

“Hey, Cas,” he murmurs, gazing at the rising sun.

Castiel hums, yet doesn’t answer, concentrated on the view laid out before him. His hands are on his thighs as he sits there with a straight back, and Dean cannot stop himself. Gently, he covers Castiel’s hand with his own and gives it a small squeeze. It only takes a light squeeze in return for Dean to relax and let go of all the anxiousness that flooded him when he couldn’t find his angel. It doesn’t matter to Dean that Castiel doesn’t have any powers now; he will always be an angel to him.

They sit quietly watching the skies as the sun slowly rises and paints their surroundings in all possible shades of red, orange and yellow. It is a breathtaking view and they both sit, transfixed by the magnificent sunrise.

Castiel blinks slowly and sighs, turning slightly towards Dean.

“I missed seeing a sunrise. I missed it so much, Dean, you can’t imagine. I was there for so long, I couldn’t remember what it looked like.”

His face is only a few inches from Dean’s, and this close his eyes are a bright blue that Dean always thought was the result of his grace.

Castiel’s lips quirk up a bit. “Of all the things I missed the most, sunrises were in second place.”

“Then sunsets must have been in first place, weren’t they?” Dean smiles happily, because how could he not be happy? Castiel is up and about, talking to him, and there is nothing, absolutely nothing in this world that could make him happier.

Castiel tilts his head and stares at Dean with a softness in his eyes that has Dean’s heart racing like a jackrabbit.

He shakes his head lightly and reaches out to hold Dean’s cheek in his hand.

“It was you, Dean. It was always you.”