AN: First slash everrr! This will also be a long!fic, so there will be more. :) It'll start out gen-ish but become Dean/Castiel over time.

Don't forget to tell me what you think!

Chapter 1

"James, stop digging in the dirt! The ball isn't there! Eyes on the game, kid! Eyes on the game!" Dean called into the outfield. Dean had stuck James in far out in left field because the kid was known to be easily distracted. Ben was pitching a mean game and Dean was practically beaming even though the sun was uncomfortably hot on the back of his neck. He and Ben had been practicing real hard all weekend and it was sure paying off. He glanced back at Lisa and watched her face light up as Ben threw another perfect strike. The sound of the ball smacking into the catcher's mitt was beautiful music to their ears. As the batter struck out and grumpily made his way back to the bench everyone on their team cheered. Dean checked off another out on his clip board. They were winning. Big time.

Ben turned his head and wiped sweat out of his eyes, but Dean knew he was looking to see if his mom was paying attention. The kid was a show off.

When Dean looked to left field to see if James was paying attention he saw instead something unexpected. "There's a friggin' angel in my outfield," he mumbled to himself. He grinned as Castiel cut across the corner of the field to get to him. The angel's expression was one of mild confusion as the young third baseman kicked dirt at him. Dean barely heard the sound of yet another perfect strike slamming into the catcher's mitt and being announced by the umpire.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel said with a hint of a smile in his eyes.

"Awh man, Cas!" Dean beamed and thumped Castiel on the shoulder. "How're you doing?"

"Not well. But as to be expected in war time," Castiel replied. Dean appreciated his honesty.

Dean was still smiling. He hadn't realized how much he missed Castiel until he saw him again. Trench coat in summer and everything. A sense of familiarity and comradeship fell over them as Dean neglected the game before him and let the assistant coach (some douche who wore Ralph Lauren polos to little league) take the coveted clipboard. The fact that nothing about Castiel had changed comforted Dean in a way that he'd never admit to.

"Why are you smiling like that? I just mentioned a war," Castiel asked, studying Dean's face with a tilted head. Dean knew that expression meant he was trying to decipher Dean's current facial expression by mentally comparing to ones he has already seen and decoded.

"I'm just real glad to see you," Dean said and wiped the grin off his face.

Castiel looked as though he didn't know how to respond to that. "I've come to ask for your help," he said instead.

"My help?" Dean asked. "What do you mean?"

"I need your assistance in the war for Heaven," Castiel explained.

Go.

"You see, Cas, um-"

There was cheering somewhere outside of their conversation and he was vaguely aware that the innings were changing. Castiel looked down at the players filing passed him and into the dug out as if he didn't understand what they were doing.

Go. Go. Go.

"The thing is I have a family here. Lisa and Ben they, uh, they've come to count on me."

But they had obviously survived well enough before he came along and wedged himself into their world. Yeah, the extra paycheck he brought it with his construction job was great, but not necessary. Ben had slowly begun to see him as a father figure, but Dean felt as though he was doing a shitty job anyways. With not having a very good idea as to what a "normal" dad did besides what he saw on tv, he was struggling with it. Being a dad from the road and parenting over the phone was what he knew.

Go. Go. Go. Go. Go. Go. Go. Go. Go. Go. Go. Go. It was like a chant. A calling. It drummed in his ears, with his pulse, with his breath.

"What's that case?" Dean finished with a sigh. He met Castiel's gaze and saw a hint of relief that made him see just how tired Castiel looked. He hadn't seen Castiel this tired and weary since he was almost human. Castiel wasn't supposed to look worn out.

"Yay Ben!" shook Dean out of his Castiel only world and back to the game. He looked up and saw that Ben was up at bat. It was Lisa who had cheered and Dean looked to her, contemplating the situation. Lisa and Ben were his life now. He should be happy living life, just the three of them and no danger. There was no running, hiding, guns, violence; nothing supernatural. Lisa was good in bed and made the perfect apple pie. Ben was a great kid and resembled Dean in too many ways. Everything was normal and perfect.

He fucking hated it.

And he fucking hated that he fucking hated it.

"Raphael and I are fighting over the domain of Heaven," Castiel started. His voice was low, intense, and demanding and Dean had pretty much had no choice but to listen to him. "Raphael wants control of everything. He wants to eliminate every living being on Earth so that he may start new. Raphael feels that in order to rid the world of the sin of man and the demons and evil beings that inhabit the earth, he must completely wipe it clean. This can not happen, Dean."

"Well, no shit, Cas. What can I do to help stop him?" Dean asked with his hands on his hips. The prospect of a case left a sweet taste in his mouth and picked up his pulse. His mind seemed more focused. He felt good.

"Raphael has already begun to abolish small cities and towns throughout the United States. He feels that the evil of the world is centered right here," Castiel said, still in the same intense tone.

"I coulda told you that," Dean scoffed while he processed this new information.

"What we need to do is find Raphael and- and kill him," Castiel said, losing the intensity of his voice at the end of his statement. His eyes were downcast now instead of holding tightly onto Dean's.

Dean knew that killing other angels was the hardest thing for Castiel to do even if he knew he had to do it. He emphasized because he had been faced with having to kill his own brother many times. In fact, he felt like he had, indeed, killed Sam. Dean laid a hand on Castiel's shoulder, ducking his head, trying to catch Castiel's gaze.

Castiel looked back up to Dean with wide, hurt, sad eyes. Dean couldn't call himself human if he didn't completely fall for it. The Puppy Dog Face. Dean was pretty sure that Castiel had learned it from Sam. And the two of them together with That Face were the reasons Dean was almost constantly in varying states of fucked to hell. Dean hoped for a second that Sam was burning in hell for teaching Castiel that look. And just because he was aware of the effects of The Look didn't make it any less potent.

"Where do we start?" Dean asked. He scratched the back of his neck nervously. The skin there was tight with sunburn and he immediately regretted his nails against his skin.

"We need to leave as soon as possible," Castiel said, The Puppy Face fading.

Dean nodded but then thought of something he should have thought of first. "I'll have to talk to Lisa," he said. It almost sounded like a question, the way his voice lifted at the end. The whole checking in with one's partner was still new to Dean. Yeah, he had had to check in with Sam when they hunted together, but Sam was a hunter and knew the gig. Sam didn't expect him home for dinner and to watch fucking Glee on the couch later with popcorn.

Castiel and Dean both looked up into the stands and saw Lisa watching them. She looked unbelievably sad but resigned. Dean felt a twinge of guilt but he shoved it down to deal with at a later date. One where there was booze. He waved at her and she waved back. She stood up and hopped down the bleachers to them.

"Lisa, this is Castiel. He and I… worked together. He just arrived in town," Dean said and rested an arm around her shoulders.

"Hey there, Castiel," she said with a bright smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Are you joining us for dinner?"

"Um," Castiel said, he looked startled by the question. He looked to Dean for any type of confirmation. Dean smiled and nodded. Lisa was cooking chili. Angel war over Heaven or not, Lisa's chili was worth the delay. "Alright. Thank you, Lisa. You're very kind," Castiel said with a polite tilt of his head. Like something out of Pride and fucking Prejudice or some shit like that. Dean scoffed.

{-}

"So, you hunted with Dean?" Lisa asked Castiel as they were all sitting at the dinner table.

Dean slowed his chewing to look up at Castiel, anticipating his answer. Their eyes met and Castiel looked extremely nervous. Dean didn't know why Castiel would be nervous. But under the bright, yellowy light above the kitchen table, Cas looked edgy.

"Yes," Castiel said and moved his food around on his plate with his fork.

"And you're in town for… business?" Lisa asked. Her voice was light and noncommittal but Dean saw right through it.

"Yes, it is imperative that Dean comes with me," Castiel said. He lifted a spoonful of chili to his mouth. And if Dean didn't know Castiel he would have thought that he'd eaten it. But Dean was watching curiously and saw that the food disappeared from the spoon just as it entered his mouth. Cas was using magic to keep up the allusion that he was eating and enjoying Lisa's dinner. He even pretended to be chewing. Dean hid a pleased smile behind a piece of cornbread.

For some reason Dean did not know, it felt like Cas was in on a joke with Dean. Like they were pranking Lisa and Ben somehow and Castiel was following along. It worried Dean a little bit to know that he felt like his life with Lisa and Ben was a joke compared to hunting with Castiel. But it kind of was. How could he sit down and eat fucking cornbread when people were out there dying because of some feathery asshole with a holier than thou agenda? He had always hoped he could settle down for a "real" life someday. And now that he had it, he didn't want it anymore. "The grass is always greener" or some shit.

"Is that why you've come to Cicero?" Lisa asked and looked down at her food. She was dealing and Dean respected that. She wasn't going to forbid it. He had suspected that she knew he was unhappy. The almost constant drinking and the devil's trap under every carpet kind of gave it away. It took him three weeks to stop carrying a weapon in his waistband.

Castiel nodded. "There are some matters that need Dean's… expertise," Castiel said and gave Dean a sidelong glance that said that it almost physically ailed him to say that. Dean knew what Cas was doing. He was buttering Lisa up to get her to think that Dean was like The Only Person Ever that could help him because Dean is a big, strong hero and is needed out in the world. But that was true, wasn't it? Dean thought so. "I was hoping that I could get your permission for Dean to come with me?" Castiel was talking to Ben.

Dean wanted to high five Castiel and he had pretty much never wanted to do that before. Lisa's expression had gone from a guarded sad to respect and agreement. She smiled.

"Uh, sure," Ben said with a shrug. He'd been silently eating the entire time though listening intently. "Rick can coach my team, I guess."

"Good. Lisa, do we have your blessing?" Castiel asked, and "ate" another bite of food.

Dean choked on his Pepsi. The ice cubes clinked against the glass as he unsteadily set the glass down on the table and coughed.

Lisa laughed. "Yeah, you have my blessing. Just treat him good, you hear?" She was in complete agreement that Dean was needed out there protecting the world. She was even being playful with Castiel. These were good signs.

Castiel looked confused. As though he was unsure of how well or bad he treated Dean was a laughing matter or even relevant to saving the world. He looked to Dean for some kind of guidance so Dean smiled to say that he'd explain later. So Castiel stretched his face into a strange mock grin and let out a noise that almost sounded like a laugh. It set Dean off into a fit of chuckles. Even Ben smiled as he looked back and forth between them all.

"When will you need Dean?" Lisa asked Castiel as she served some peach pie later at dessert.

"As soon as possible. I recommend that we leave first thing in the morning," Castiel said.

"So soon?" Lisa asked. The forlorn look reappeared. Castiel looked at her as if he was reading into her soul.

"Yes. The matter I need Dean's help with is very pressing. Many lives are at stake. Children, even," Castiel said.

He was cheating, that bastard, Dean realized. He was reading Lisa's soul and mind like a how-to manual to find out how she would approve of Dean leaving. Dean was grateful. He didn't want to leave Lisa upset, but he couldn't not leave just because of her.

"Okay, well, Dean, I'll get the suitcases out of the attic," Lisa said. She smiled again, a real one, before leaving.

"You cheated," Dean said to Castiel later. They were up in Dean and Lisa's bedroom with Dean's bag open on the bed. He pulled his clothes out of drawers and off hangers (places they'd never been before) and shoved them into the duffle bag (where they belonged) unfolded and destined to wrinkle (the way he liked it, okay?) like a kid packing for Disney World.

"Cheated?" Castiel questioned. "How so?" But there was a glint of amusement in his wide, blue eyes.

"Don't innocent angel me, Cas," Dean chuckled. "I saw you peering into the depths of Lisa's soul over dessert."

Cas actually scoffed. "Her soul is not all that deep." When Dean stopped shoving shit into his bag to glare, Cas explained. "The only things she cares about in life are her son and you. She wants you two to be happy and that makes her happy. See? Not exactly an ocean."

"Maybe that's all that's necessary. Ever think of that?" Dean challenged the angel as he fought with the zipper on his overstuffed bag (when did he manage to collect so much crap?). "Maybe if a person thinks and cares about too many things, they're stretched too thin and are therefore shallow." Dean was proud of himself. He even stopped struggling with the zipper to gesture to himself with a flourish; celebrating his intelligence. The zipper slid backwards on its own with an unfortunate sounding flllrrrp and therefore ruining Dean's shining moment of intellect.

"And where do you stand on that spectrum, Dean Winchester?" Castiel asked. There was too much sass in his tone. Well, implied sass. Because his tone was rather flat. But Dean heard it.

"All I care about is saving people, kicking ass, pie, and… Sam," Dean said. He looked down at his bag again. Shit. Sam. Dean sat down on the edge of the bed. "Can I handle the angels without Sam?"

"I don't know, can you?" Castiel asked as if he was unsure if Dean's question was a trick one.

"I don't know, that's why I was asking you," Dean said.

"There's only one way to find out," Castiel said.

"Can't you consult your angelic tarot cards to find out?" Dean asked, halfheartedly sarcastic.

"Now that would be cheating."

{-}

The next morning, Dean went downstairs to find Castiel and Lisa in the kitchen. Cas had "slept" on the couch in the living room and was now pretending to sip coffee with Lisa. Castiel looked relieved when Dean walked in, still in his blue plaid pajamas (Lisa bought them, alright?). Dean suspected Lisa was asking him question after question and gossiping about Dean. Castiel stood up eagerly.

"Coffee first, Cas. Then we go," Dean said groggily. He shuffled over to the pot and poured himself a mug of the steaming hot elixir of life.

After a cup of coffee and a few slices of toast with Nutella, they were ready to go. Dean kissed Lisa goodbye and ruffled Ben's hair. He promised to call, email, send postcards, etc. He would miss them, sure, but he would be saving their lives in the mean time. It was worth it.

Dean lifted the garage door open by the loose handle (didn't he fix that damn thing like last fucking week?) and stared at the car shaped lump. Covering the Impala with a tan cover and not driving her was like being castrated. Now Dean stood before her, his fingers itching to rip the covers off like it was Christmas morning and he was four years old. A big ridiculous grin was spread across his face as he stepped up to her. He gripped the fabric and pulled it off like he was doing that magic trick with the table cloth. The Impala was a gleaming black and the light from the rising sun outside winked off of her hood. Dean ran his hands over her frame with a sigh. He had been tempted so many times to sneak out to the garage and just sit in the driver's seat. The seat was perfectly worn in to fit his ass and the truck he drove for work just didn't feel right. The leather of the steering wheel was frayed just the littlest bit on the top and slightly to the left; where he gripped the wheel most often. A tape was still in the radio and a few food wrappers were still in the backseat where they were lovingly tossed. There was even the empty, plastic, apple juice bottle that Sam had drank and tossed into the back ages ago. Dean hadn't had the heart to throw it out, or the patience to wedge it out from under the passenger's seat.

"It's a shame that she was locked up and covered for so long," said a voice that was definitely not Castiel's but as familiar to Dean as his own.

He whipped around, practically tripping over the car cover. He couldn't help but gasp, it was involuntary. Because there was no way that he was standing there in Lisa's garage. Alive. Looking bashful with his hands in his pockets. Because he had no fucking right to just be standing there.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered. He didn't dare say anything louder for fear that he was only imagining his bigger younger brother standing there right in front of him, for fear that seeing the Impala brought back memories of his brother so strong that he was hallucinating. Maybe the Nutella had gone bad and this was just a fucked up sign of food poisoning.

But it wasn't. Unless Cas was just as deranged, nostalgic, or sick. Castiel rushed forwards with a hand outstretched, two fingers out (meaning serious business), as Dean reached into the Impala and pulled the gun out from the compartment on the side of the door. Sam had his hands up to show he was unarmed and was looking at them innocently. The partial Puppy Dog Look didn't stop Dean from aiming his gun at Sam. He'd had enough of surprises in his lifetime to know that not all reunions come with balloons.

Cas touched Sam's forehead and gripped his shoulder with his other hand. A few seconds later, Castiel stepped back, lowering his hands.

"Is it him? Is it Sam?" Dean demanded.

"It is him," Castiel said turning to give Dean a look of pleased shock.

Dean put the safety back on the gun and dropped it into the Impala before walking quickly (because running would have been too eager) to Sam. He hugged him fiercely, and only stopped after he heard the joints in Sam's back crack. Sam was embracing him back and complaining about the tightness of Dean's hold. "How are you here? How'd you get out, Sammy?" Dean was asking him over and over.

When Sam extracted himself from Dean's vice like grip, he was beaming. "I don't know, Dean. I woke up not long after Kansas. I guess it was just a few weeks. But I just woke up back in that cemetery. I don't know or remember anything, but I'm back! Dean, I'm alive!"

"You don't remember anything about how you returned to Earth?" Castiel asked, stepping closer.

"No, I remember falling into the pit and then waking up. It felt as though I'd just tripped and fallen on the ground and blinked. Except it was dark and no one else was there. At first I thought you'd just left me there after I tripped or something. But then I found a diner down the road and saw the date on a newspaper," Sam explained.

"Why didn't you come find me?" Dean asked, scandalized. He punched Sam's arm.

"Ow! I thought you wanted a normal life! I was staying away so that you could have it!" Sam exclaimed and rubbed where Dean punched.

"Well," Dean stuttered for a response. "I would still have wanted to know you were alive! It was hell thinking you were dead!"

"Sorry," Sam said and had the nerve to look sheepish. "So where are you guys going?"

Castiel launched into the retelling of the war against Raphael for Sam. Dean just stared at Sam like a creep. Come on, he'd shown up after being effectively dead for months. Dean had a right to stare at his little brother. He'd never thought he'd see his increasingly girly hair ever again.

"Dean shouldn't go on this case," Sam said after Cas finished.

"And why the hell not?" Dean snapped.

"You have a life here now. You have Lisa and Ben and a real home," Sam said. "It's what you've always wanted. It's why I stayed away."

"Why are you back then?" Castiel questioned.

"Because," Sam rolled his eyes, "because I missed you guys, okay?"

Castiel narrowed his eyes at Sam. Dean knew he was reading Sam's soul. Cas didn't make a move to suggest he saw anything bad so Dean guessed everything was alright.

"Sam, the world is at stake here. Again. And we have to save it," Dean argued. "If we don't do this, Lisa and Ben will die, and everything we've done so far, all the people we've saved, will be for nothing. You, of all people, should know that."

"I just don't like the idea of you going out and hunting again," Sam said with a shake of his head.

"Well, tough, Dad," Dean said and folded his arms across his chest.

"Dean is needed on this mission," Castiel said. "You may come with us and aid us in battle, Sam. You are a talented hunter, as well. You would be a beneficial addition to our garrison."

"I'll go," Sam said. "But I still don't like Dean going."

"Deal with it, bitch," Dean said.

"Jerk," was Sam's automatic response and Dean could have cried with joy when he heard it again. But he didn't. Because Sam was the girl, not him.