This fic is written in response to a prompt on tumblr by the-girl-who-loved-them-all

I owe nothing. :) Enjoy.

"This is the dumbest case ever." Sam said, for the umpteenth time since they set out on the road to investigate some mysterious disappearing in a tiny-weeny town on the border between Georgia and Alabama.

"Your face is the dumbest case ever." Dean replied.

"Really, Dean? Really? You're going to use that line?" Sam lifted his head up from the hard, dusty tiled church floor and glared at his brother in the dark. "What are you, in grade 4?"

"I believe fourth graders would be offended to know that you assume they would use such banal retort," came Cas's sarcasm-less reply from the other side of Dean, achieving his usual effect of being sassy without intention. But lately, Dean couldn't help but feel like Cas knew exactly what he was doing and was exploiting the shit out of it.

"You know what Cas, bite me." Dean nudged him in the rib. Hard. He was not in a good mood at the moment, and did not need any of Castiel's snark.

The ex-angel grunted, "I'd rather not, because you haven't showered and you smell."

Sam snorted. Ain't that true for all of them.

The case turned out to be nothing supernatural at all, and the disappearings were caused by a couple of teenagers going through a witchcraft/voodoo doll/Ouija board phase who decided to camp out in the woods without telling their parents. (What the hell was wrong with kids these days?!) On top of that, some idiot hijacked the Impala during the investigation and drove it off to never, never land. The sheriff in the county one town over phoned after apprehending the thief and told them to come pick up the relatively unharmed car, but there was no way they'd be able to make it to the next town tonight. As if that wasn't enough, the only motel in the town was under construction and had zero available room. This led to their currently sad predicament, trying to sleep on the too hard church floor after the pastor took pity on them unfortunate "fed officers".

Bleeding Christ.

Since becoming human a couple of month ago after the gong show with the little shit face Metraton, Cas had developed quite the attitude. Needless to say, he was not taking this whole 'humanity' thing in strides.

Dean didn't blame him. Hell, all Cas ever tried to do was good things, and after trying his very hardest to make things right again, he still ended up fucking the world over and causing the fall of his entire species. If Dean were him, yeah, he'd feel pretty shitty himself too.

"Everything I touch is ruined." Cas said during the first couple of days after his fall.

"Yeah well, welcome to the club." That had been Dean's reply. Cas said nothing afterward.

I was part of a much better club…. The hunter remembered the pill-popping-orging-attending Cas from 2014 when douchbag Zachariah sent him to the future. Well, 2014 was just a few months away and it wasn't really looking too good for Cas o' buddy here. Never mind the fact that Lucifer walks the Earth in 2014….

Dean shook his head. Speaking of clubs… He stared up at the ceiling, flicking on the flash light just 'cause he was bored out of his mind and couldn't sleep.

The pale yellow light illuminated the painting on the church ceilings, which was surprisingly detailed and beautiful for a small church in the middle of nowhere. Angels of different size and colouring scattered across the canopy. While not all of them were cherubs, they all looked overly sweet and innocent, which was about the farthest one could get from the truth.

Castiel gazed up at the ceiling forlornly. The personification of his family was inaccurate at best: the wings were not so fluffy, theirs halos were not circular rings around their head, and they certainly didn't wear diapers and togas, but… there was something about this particular church painting that stirred something within him.

For a moment, it felt like his grace was still there. Cas frowned, scratching at his belly to ease the familiar ache. The pain at his shoulder blades reminded him of his wings and he wiggled at little against the ground. Phantom pain… he'd learnt to deal with that too. Looking up at the painting, his throat suddenly felt dry and lumpy, but even he knew it wasn't from thirst.

Dean turned his head, watching his friend closely. Castiel's profile was contoured by the dim flashlight, and the blue of his eyes were dark like the night sky –

Wait just a friggin second. Where did that come from? Dean snubbed the thought at the bud, not allowing himself to go down that path. Thinking about Castiel's beautif – fuck – okay, let's just not talk about it.

"What was it like?" He asked quietly, not sure why he's asking. Beside him, Sammy was starting to snore lightly, so there was no chance that he'd be teased later for invoking a 'chick-flick' moment.

"What was what like?" Cas's voice was hoarse, as if he's holding back a cry.

"Your family, you know before…everything." He's never once considered the angels as Castiel's family, because well…. they're pretty shit to him, but he could see now after the eons worth of dysfunction exploded in their face, the angels were the closest thing to family Castiel had.

"You mean before the Fall? Or the Apocalypse?" The ex-angel turned his head to him. Lying there on the floor, the closeness of their noses had long violated the definition of personal space.

"No, I meant…before humans." Dean whispered slowly, distracted by Cas's warm breath fanning across his cheeks. He chose to ignore the quickening of his heart and the tingle down his spine. If anyone noticed his eyes fluttering shut and a small sighing escaping his lips, well, he'll bunch the bastard and deny everything.

Castiel picked up his own flashlight and shined it at the ceiling, answering Dean's question, "Well, before humans, heaven is a little like that I suppose."

It took a moment for Dean to remember what they were talking about. "You wore diapers?" He attempted a jab at humour to cover up the nervousness in his voice.

"No. I meant the simplicity." Cas said, "We basked under our Father's light, watched the universe turn. Sometimes we would sing." He moved the light onto a group of seraphs participating in the heavenly choir. Strange, the one singing at the front looked surprisingly like Anael, the slightly smaller angel at her side also possessed an irking likely to Uriel. Castiel's chest squeezed at the memory of the brother who betrayed him. "Anna had the most beautiful voice." He nodded towards redheaded angel, "So did Uriel."

"Is that actually Uriel in the painting?" Dean snickered.

Cas chuckled back, "Close enough. Do you see that one other on the right with his tongue partially sticking out his mouth, tugging the feathers of the older angel?"

"Yeah?"

"Balthazar used to be just like that, menace in the garrison. Gabriel raised him."

"That explains a lot." Dean rolled his eyes.

"Yes. We…were happy. Even Lucifer. He used to be the brother the Host loved the most."

"I guess humans really fucked that up for you, eh?" Dean said.

"No." Cas glanced at Dean, those cerulean irises too blue and too sincere as he spoke. "It's not humanity's fault. When our Father created you, I think he overestimated the angels, expected too much out of his angelic children. The bitterness in the Host, though it accumulated over the years, I think was there in the beginning. Just looking at Naomi."

Dean didn't say anything as Cas searched across the painting, taking in the images of his siblings. The fallen angel breathed, his chest rising as a revelation dawned on him and momentarily seizing him in its grip.

"We call ourselves servants of God, but, I think I finally realize now that it's not true." Dark brows furrowed, "We were never made to be his servants. We were his children just like humans, and He was our Father in every sense of the word. Yet somewhere along the way, we convinced ourselves that we are only soldiers to carry out His will, because it was easier to cope that way than to admit our Father loved the 'new kids' better than us. We interpreted His will the way we wanted, and placed ourselves in the position of your Shephard, your Keeper. I don't think that's what Father wanted at all…" Castiel sighed, resignation flickering across his feature, "He wanted us to protect you, but not in the way that an owner would protect its dog, but in a way that a brother would protect his sibling. The way you protect Sam." Cas paused, "I suppose…a dose of humanity might be just what we need in Heaven."

The hunter blinked. He hadn't thought of it that way… angels are his brothers? Come on. Every angel he's ever met besides Castiel and Sammandrial had tried to kill him, so he wasn't entirely convinced of Castiel's logic. It seemed overly simplistic, over romanticized, but he didn't argue because for the first time since Castiel's fall, the angel seemed to be at peace.

"I do miss them. My brothers and sisters. They hate me, but I do miss them."

Their pinkies touched on the floor, and Dean was overwhelmed with the urge to hold Cas's hand, to tell him he's here and that come what may, this time they'll face it together. He may not have his angelic family anymore, but at least he has the Winchesters.

Dean wiggled slightly, embarrassed at the girlish lines on the tip of his tongue. What the hell was happening to him?! Honestly! These less that straight urges were becoming more and more frequent.

"Hey look at that one. Who's he? I think it's my favourite." Attempting to disperse the building awkwardness in his head, Dean shined his own flashlight at the ceiling towards a small angel perched on a fluffy cloud, wings perked up on either side, looking downwards curiously. A mop of unruly black curls adorned his little head and his baby blue eyes bluer than the ocean peered down at his siblings with interest. That blasted head tilt to the side, a slightly confused and clueless frown…

Michael, Gabriel, Raphael and all the dicks in the sky! Dean swallowed thickly. The baby angel was absolutely adorable. It was exactly how he imagined a baby Castiel would looked like, not that he'll ever tell Cas that.

Castiel drew a sharp breath, "That one is me." His answer was too quiet, too shy.

Dean's head whipped around so fast he might've felt the whiplash. "Oh."

The other man was looking at him with wide eyes, a little sad. Dean groaned inwardly. Well, there goes the last shred of his heterosexual illusions. Ugh, fuck it. Feeling rather bold, he hooked his pinkie against the fallen angel's.

Cas didn't pull away. He knew Dean's sentiments, knew it for a long while, and he returned it. There was a conversation long overdue, and when it happens it would be awkward for sure. They won't breach that barrier tonight, nor will they tomorrow tonight, but in time, they will. Whatever was happening now was nice, and they wouldn't ruin it with fumbling words. Together they laid there in the semi dark, looking at each other as if the eyes of the other person held all the answer to the universe, like two sappy idiots from one of those nauseating movies targeted towards pre-teen girls.

Castiel sighed, finally looking back towards the ceiling. "We should sleep."

"We should."

But no one moved to turn off their flashlight. Sam will probably bitch about drained batteries in the morning, but they couldn't care less at the moment.

In comforting silence, they appreciated the ceiling art together. Every once in a while, Castiel would say something about angels in Heaven's past that made Dean laugh. Suddenly, the hunter's eyes zoned in on a particular angel. Is that…? It can't be.

Castiel, pointed up, apparently on the same line of thought, since there was no way he could be reading Dean's mind without his mojo.

"Yes, that naked one flipping off the pope is Gabriel."

Dean barked out a laugh, startling Sam.

"Wha…huh?" Sam mumbled, "Dean, turn the damn light off and go to sleep. Jesus bleeding Christ."

Dean ignored his brother, squeezing Cas's hand tighter and smiled when the angel squeezed back.

Maybe Cas will turn into a junky. Maybe Lucifer will walk the Earth. Maybe every fallen Angel on the planet will be after their ass. But tonight, he will sleep well. With Sam snoring happily two inches to the left and the ex-angel's hand in his, Dean Winchester realized that he was utterly unafraid.

As the hunter and his angel drifted asleep, exhaustion finally settling in, no one noticed a certain archangel winking in the ceiling.

AN: Thanks for reading. Leave a review!