[personal profile] mobiusklein
Gen, set after 6.11, features Dean, Castiel & Sam. Rated PG


“I have an idea but you won’t like it,” said Castiel as he sat on Dean’s bed in the motel room.

Dean shrugged and sat next to him. “Tell me what it is anyway. It’s not like I’ve liked a lot of the ideas I’ve come up with either.”

“Remember Anna?”

“Yes.” Dean frowned. “Please don’t tell me she has come back from the dead.”

“No, she hasn’t. But I remembered that it was possible to separate grace, the essence of an angel‘s power, from an angel . . .”

“And?”

“Grace can be kept inside a container.”

Dean narrowed his eyes when he realized where the conversation was going. “You mean like a vessel . . .”

“Yes. You could hold the grace of an angel without being possessed by its personality. Because of your bloodlines, you could actually hold an unlimited amount of grace. Most vessels can only handle one.”

“How much grace are we talking about?”

“As of now, five hundred angels’ worth.”

Dean whistled. “Damn, Cas. Where did you get all that?”

“It is a lot,” Castiel admitted. “Some angels volunteered to surrender their grace for this project. Others were gathered from the battlefield.”

“Let’s say you put all that . . . gunk inside of me . . . What happens?”

“If it works, your power will be on par of that of an archangel. It would be extremely helpful.”

“I don’t have a problem helping you. But I know there’s a reason you don’t sound that enthusiastic about it.”

“While we know that vessels can survive unscathed if a little care is taken when the angel separates from a vessel, I can’t make the same guarantee about separating you from the grace that is put inside of you. Also, once it’s inside you, I can’t claim that I can take all of it out. You might be forever changed.”

“So, it’s basically ‘once you do it, that’s it.’”

“Precisely.”

Dean thought for a few moments. “Do it.”

Castiel frowned. “Are you sure? I can not guarantee that the procedure will be in any way pleasant.”

Dean sighed. “Trust me, I know what pain is. But I know you wouldn’t ask if things weren’t pretty dire up there. Besides, I’m tired.”

Castiel cocked his head to the side, trying to understand. “Tired?”

“Tired of being told that I have nothing to offer. Tired of being told that there’s nobody who wants or needs what I’ve got.”

***

The feeling in his veins was cold, cold, cold like diving into a lake that’s slowly freezing over and being unable to get out. It wasn’t painful like the way Alistair would slice into him with power and words. It felt like going numb and trying to catch one’s breath and having trouble doing so.

“How are you feeling, Dean?” said Castiel as he sat next to Dean lying on the hospital bed in a ‘beautiful room’ he’s constructed for this project. An angel assistant was monitoring the pump that was sending the glowing white substance into his body.

“I feel cold. How much . . .”

“We’re almost done,” he said in the most kindly manner he had.

Dean opened his eyes, focused on Castiel and smiled. “Hey, Cas, remember you told me that your true shape is as big as the Chrysler Building?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“I can see it.”

“You can see my true shape?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, it’s all folded to fit inside but I can see what it really looks like. It‘s really neat looking.”

Castiel took Dean's hand in his.

The assistant raised an eyebrow but did not say anything out loud.

***

“Damn it, Cas, answer me. I know you’ve got Dean,” said Sam as he prayed outside of Bobby’s house.

Sam had been recovering from being resouled at Bobby’s house. Dean was only supposed to have been gone for a week to check up on a lead regarding one of Heaven’s weapons. But he had woken up one morning, checked his cell phone and saw that Dean had left a message. He heard Dean’s message that he was leaving with Castiel and didn’t know when he would be back, if ever, and that Sam was free to do whatever he wanted to do because he didn’t want Sam to wait.

That was unacceptable so he had prayed every day for the past two months, alternating between angry demands and pleas for his return.

“You can stop praying now.”

Sam turned to see Dean standing in front of him. “Dean?” He would’ve run over to him but something about Dean’s body language, crossed arms and cold stare, stopped him. “Dean?”

“Yes, it’s me. Now that you know I‘m fine, you can stop harassing him.”

Sam’s relief turned to anger. “Dean, you were gone for two months!”

Dean shrugged. “I left a message. Besides, you’ve been gone for much longer without a message. I told you that you were free to do whatever you wanted. If you really want to, I could actually arrange for you to finish college and stop hunting.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Sam felt ill at ease with a brother who looked at him with such a lack of emotion. “Look, I’m really sorry about what happened to you while my soul was . . .”

“It’s not about that and there’s nothing wrong with me. I just had much more important things to deal with, especially since you were already fixed.”

“More important . . .”

“Castiel needed my help to set Heaven right. We’re also busy hunting down Heaven’s weapons and dealing with the Alphas. It feels good to actually be able to do something that matters.” Dean gave Sam a patient smile. “It‘s not like you‘d want me to stay by your bedside and make a fuss over you. I know how sick you are of all that.”

“What did that bastard do to you?”

“Do?”

Dean disappeared and reappeared behind Sam. “Oh, my God!” yelled Sam as he turned around.

“He did me a favor and I‘m doing him one. Take care of yourself, Sam.”

Sam looked over Dean’s shoulder and saw a brief glimpse of a Dean’s shadow, which showed a thousand wings coming from Dean’s back. Then the shadow vanished along with Dean.

The End

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mobiusklein

September 2011

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