If We Won the War

He lays in bed awake, staring up at the ceiling. His mind races with infinite possibilities and problems, coming up with a solution to each one. He runs through the plans, and all the various sub-plans, and the back-up plans. He flexes his fingers nervously.

This is typical. This is normal. This is his life.

Tomorrow they're facing the biggest battle yet. The war to end all wars, so to say, except wars never end.

He's used to this. He's used to being on the edge of battle, on the edge of death, on the edge of everything. He's used to standing so close to the precipice that he can see the boiling pits of hell below. He's used to Sammy standing on the edge with him, although Dean always has a hand ready to push Sammy back to safety.

What's he's not used to is a third person standing on that edge.

Especially when said "person" has wings.

Actually, he's pretty used to it by now.

But being used to it terrifies him.

He's spent nearly his whole life being part of a two-variable equation.

It used to be four variables, but that ended in a fire a long, long time ago. Then it was three variables for several years. Then Sammy left.

It was two variables for a while. Then Dad disappeared and it was, briefly, just Dean.

And Dean's really not used to being the only variable so he tracked down Sammy. They found Dad. Three variables again, like old times. Then Dad died.

But Dean was used to two variables. He was used to Dean-and-Sammy. And he wanted to keep it that way. Two variables. Nothing more, nothing less. It was better this way. Nobody else would get hurt.

Except Dean was an idiot because of course there were other variables. He couldn't avoid them, much as he tried.

Their names were (to name a few) Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Ash, Lisa, Ben, Anna, Chuck, Kevin, Charlie, Balthazar, Jody, Benny, Garth, and Castiel.

All of them were added in to the equation. And all of them were subtracted in one way or another.

Except one.

Except for the angel in a vessel with bright blue eyes who wore a dirty trench coat and tried too hard for his own good.

Castiel added himself into the equation. And he got subtracted. But then he was added again, and subtracted, and added, and subtracted.

He left and left and left, but came back every time. And Dean started to depend on that. He counted on the angel coming back. He counted on him as much as he counted on his own brother.

Castiel came in and crashed through all of Dean's walls, through all of his barriers and blockades. He made room for himself in Dean's life where previously there'd only been Sammy.

And before he knew it, Castiel had become less of a variable and more of a constant.

It terrified him more than being in a one-variable equation did.

So he tried to push away. Tried to play it off. Tried to keep the angel at a distance.

But the angel wouldn't have it.

And frankly neither would Sammy. Those two were good friends, after all.

So they were stuck together: The three amigos. The three screw-ups. The three constants.

Team Free Will.

But things were far from easy.

They fought. They lied. They betrayed each other again and again.

And every time Dean would think it was the end. He'd think Sam and Cas were going to subtract themselves and leave him alone.

But they never did.

They always returned.

They returned grudgingly, with glares and bitter words and tense atmospheres, but they returned nonetheless. Because deep down they knew they were better together than they were apart - which was saying something, because they weren't even all that good when they were together.

And now here they are, once again balanced on the edge together.

Except this time it's the biggest cliff with the longest drop and the thinnest edge. And they may or may not topple off of it tomorrow morning.

Everything is riding on this battle. They're facing the end of the world. One of them, at least. Although this could be the last one for a while if they don't completely screw this up like they do everything else.

If they win this, they can go back to just saving people and hunting things: the good ol' family business. Or not. (They're awfully tired, after all.) They can try to find that apple pie life, although Dean suspects they can't manage that either. They can find a balance between the two lives, they can do anything they want to.

Well, they can if they survive, that is.

Because there's a really good chance they won't. Winning this might take some sacrificing. Winning this will be more difficult than anything they'd faced before. Winning this could kill them all.

A sense of finality comes over Dean as he thinks about the 90% chance he has of dying tomorrow. He's come to terms with it. He figures he will die tomorrow, and he's kind of glad. He kind of likes the idea of going out in a blaze of glory. But he doesn't want anyone at his side when he does so. Especially not his brother or his angel. They deserve to live. And he needs to tell them so.

"Sammy," he says as he enters the room.

Sam stares at him suspiciously, eyes slightly narrowed. "Yeah, Dean?"

"Listen, I...I'm sorry," he spits out gracelessly. "For dragging you back into this all those years ago. For all the lying and the backstabbing. I'm sorry for all of it. But also, thanks, for sticking with me. I love you, little brother. I just want you to know that."

Sam nods slowly, a smile quirking the corner of his mouth. "I already knew that, Dean."

Dean purses his lips and nods curtly. "Right. Well. Good."

He shuffles a bit and claps his hands awkwardly. Sam watches him with an amused expression, eyebrows lifting up.

Dean clears his throat. "Yeah, well, make sure all the guns are loa - "

Sam gets up and moves quickly over to Dean, enveloping him in a tight hug. Dean returns it instantly, tears smarting in his eyes at the thought of this being the last time he hugs his little brother.

"We're gonna win this, Dean," Sam whispers. "I know it."

Dean nods and claps his brother's shoulder. "Yeah, me too, Sammy. Me too."

There's probably more to say, Dean figures, but he figures Sam already knows it.

They separate and Sam goes back to double checking all of their weapons. Dean goes outside to call Cas. For some reason he prefers to be outside when they talk. Less confined. He figures more open space means more space to be open.

He barely tips his head down in prayer when he hears a rush of feathers behind him.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean's breath catches at the familiar greeting, complete with a teasing lilt. Cas says it more as a joke now, after Sam and Dean had pointed out to him a while ago that it's what he always says.

He turns and sees a soft, crooked smile on the angel's face, and it's such a uniquely human expression that Dean wonders if there's ever been another angel with as much humanity as this one. But of course there hasn't been, because Cas is entirely unprecedented.

"Hey, Cas," Dean greets, taking a step toward him. "How are you?"

"Preparing for war," Cas replies.

"I asked how you are, not what you're doing," Dean counters.

Cas smiles a bit. "I am well enough."

"Good, good, that's good," Dean mumbles, looking away.

There's too much to say and not enough time to say it. It was easier with Sammy; everything he'd had to tell Sammy was just reiterations. With Cas, it's admissions. And he doesn't know if he can say them.

"I'm not a loose end, Dean," Cas says, interrupting his thoughts.

Dean furrows his brows. "What?"

"That's what you're doing, isn't it?" Cas asks, his voice low as he approaches Dean, standing closer to him than social necessity called for - but Dean was used to him doing that.

"What am I doing, Cas?" Dean returns, fixing his eyes on Cas'.

Cas squints at him and tilts his head to the side. "You're tying up loose ends in your life because you think you will die in this battle, and you believe me to be one of these loose ends."

"Well, doesn't that sum it up nicely," Dean says in a light tone, a grin crossing his face.

"Dean, this isn't funny."

Cas' face is stormy as he turns away from Dean.

He frowns. "Cas. Talk to me."

"I am not a loose end for you to tie up, Dean," Cas says quietly. "You are not going to die tomorrow."

"Cas, you don't know that," Dean replies.

The angel whips around, getting right in Dean's face. His eyes flash with heavenly rage. Dean's pulse jumps, because although this isn't the first time Cas has yelled at him, sometimes he forgets that this guy who looks like a harmless tax accountant is actually a powerful, multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent barely contained within a meat suit.

"I know that you're going to attempt some grand sacrifice that you think will make you look heroic when in fact it will make you look stupid," Cas snarls. "Martyrdom doesn't suit you, Dean."

"Wow, Cas, tell me how you really feel," he remarks to mask his hurt, because he always ends up hiding behind sarcasm.

Castiel growls, low and in the back of his throat, and steps away from Dean again. Dean, having recovered the ability to breathe , fills his lungs up properly.

"It...it upsets me greatly when you say things like this," Cas says. "Things like you dying tomorrow is inevitable."

"Cas, nobody knows what's going to happen tomorrow," Dean replies evenly. "I'm...I'm tying up the loose ends just - just in case this is the last chance I have."

He's met with moody silence.

"Do you understand?"

"I do not like it," Cas answers. "But...yes, I understand."

"So...?"

"So if you wish to tie me up, then go ahead," Cas says in defeat.

Dean fights back a chuckle at Cas' misspeak and the innuendos that could be made. Now's not the time for teasing him about that sort of thing.

"Okay, first, I'm sorry," Dean says matter-of-factly, like he's reading off a grocery list. "I'm sorry for all of the shit that has passed between us and everything I've done to wrong you."

Cas nods. "You have already been forgiven, Dean. And in case you've forgotten, we both have offenses on that front. I am sorry as well."

"And, I also want to thank you."

Dean grabs his left shoulder, where Cas' handprint is burned into his skin. Cas tilts his head to the side.

"I don't think I ever thanked you for pulling me out of there," he says softly. "Or for saving my life all the time. Or for saving Sammy's. Or even..." His voice cracks. "Or even just for being there, man. Thanks for that. Thanks for all of it."

"Of course, Dean."

Cas has approached him again, standing close. Dean can feel the contained celestial power coming off of him in waves. Their eyes meet.

Dean swallows and he knows it's now or never.

"Cas, you know..." He sighs agitatedly. "You know that - that our friendship isn't...it isn't like most friendships."

Cas hums his agreement. "Most humans don't have angels for friends."

Dean shakes his head. "No, that's...that's not what I meant."

Cas tilts his head to the side and squints and Dean's stomach does a flip as he realizes how difficult this is.

How is he supposed to explain to the guy that most friends don't have such prolonged eye contact or stand so close? That most friends don't watch over each other while they sleep? That most friends don't sacrifice everything for each other over and over again? That most friends don't do that stuff for each other unless...unless they're something more than friends?

"Cas, do you remember," he starts again slowly, "when you told Sammy that you and I have a, uh, what was it?"

"A more profound bond," Cas supplies. "Yes, Dean, I remember. And it's true."

"Well that's what I mean," Dean says. "We have a more profound bond, like you said. Well, most humans, when they, uh..." His voice is raising with anxiety. "When they have a profound bond, well...they're - "

He cuts off and bites his lip. He cant think straight. This isn't him. He doesn't do the sappy confession. He can't do this.

"Listen Cas, you're my best friend," he says. "And I'd do anything for you, really." He swallows. "About you and me, Cas - we...the two of us, well - " He grits his teeth and balls up his fists. "I just wanted you to know that, if things...if things had been different - "

"I know, Dean," the angel interrupts sadly, looking away and ducking his head.

Dean's heart stops. He knows? He knows?! How long has he known? Jesus, maybe he figured it out. Maybe Sam figured it out and told him.

Embarrassment hits Dean like a cold bucket of water and suddenly he's angry and furious with both himself and with Cas. He should've just kept his big mouth shut, loose ends be damned. Maybe he should try to die tomorrow, just so he won't have live with the fact that -

"Me too."

Dean looks up at Cas, eyes wide. Cas looks sad, embarrassed, and shy as he meets Dean's eyes.

"Me too, Dean," he repeats for emphasis.

"You too," he echoes almost inaudibly, but he knows that Cas heard him.

Cas nods and Dean nods back. An understanding passes through them. Dean claps Cas on the shoulder and Cas gives him a small smile.

"Right, well, get some rest," Dean says, turning back to go inside. "Tomorrow we got work to do."

SPNSPNSPN

The dust begins to settle and Dean finally takes a breath. His muscles ache and his body screams for rest, to which his knees comply as they give out and he falls to the ground. He tips his head back and closes his eyes and listens to the sounds of celebration.

It's over.

They've won.

A huge weight lifts itself off of his shoulders and he feels so light he could fly straight up to heaven right now. He releases a desperate, humorless laugh. He hasn't felt this free since he'd gone to Hell.

"Dean?" a voice calls.

"Sammy!" he calls back, scrambling to his feet. "Sammy, you okay?"

He finds Sam several yards away, dazed and bleeding with a dislocated shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, Dean, fine," Sam pants. He smiles brightly, dazzlingly, blindingly. Joy is radiant on his face and there are tears in his eyes. "Dean, we did it. We did it."

Dean hugs him as tightly as possible without hurting Sam's shoulder. "I know, Sammy. Oh, I know."

They break apart and Dean frowns. "Where's Cas?"

"Cas?" Sam looks around. "He was just here."

Panic fills Dean. He should've known something would've gone wrong, that not everything would work out the way he'd hoped. The world was far too cruel to let that happen.

"Cas?" he calls. "Cas?!" He grits his teeth angrily. "Dammit, Cas, you get your feathery ass down here or I swear to your dad - "

"No need for threats," Cas says, accompanied by a rush of feathers.

Dean whips around. "You son of a bitch, he growls. "I thought something had happened to you!"

"My apologies, Dean," Cas murmurs. "I was summoned away rather abruptly."

"Summoned away?" Dean asks, frowning. "Up there?"

"Yes."

"Why? Are you in trouble?" he asks worriedly.

Cas smiles. "Far from it. I've been re-promoted."

"Re-what?"

Cas doesn't answer. Instead, he stoops down and touches Sam's forehead. Sam's cuts and bruises fade away and his shoulder snaps back into place with a pop. Sam gasps, moving his arm around, and Cas helps him to his feet. Cas heals Dean up too and for a moment they stand there, unsure of what to do.

"So, we saved the world again," Sam says with a smile. "Hopefully for good."

Dean nods. "Sure did."

"I say we celebrate," Sam declares. "And maybe we can find a liquor store for Cas to drink."

Cas rolls his eyes and they all start laughing, giddy with adrenaline and happiness.

They start walking toward the Impala, which is miraculously still in one piece, although she needs some repair work done. Dean smiles and puts that on his mental list of Things To Do Now That I Can Do Normal Things Instead of Hunt Demons All The Time.

(He's thinking of shortening the name.)

"Dean," Cas says quietly, walking closely at his side.

"Yeah, Cas?" he asks, turning his head so he can look at him.

"Are..." Cas swallows. "Are things different now?"

Dean stops and Cas does as well. Sam notices, but keeps walking, a smug smirk on his face as he gives them some space and climbs into the passenger seat.

Cas looks scared, embarrassed, and ready to take off at a moment's notice. He tears his eyes away from Dean, biting his lip as he does so. Dean relives their conversation from last night.

"About you and me...If things had been different - " "I know, Dean...Me too."

He smiles to himself and nods.

"Yeah, Cas," he replies. "Yeah, things are different now."

Cas looks up and smiles at him and Dean smiles back. He grabs Cas' shoulder and Cas puts his hand over Dean's and they stare at each other for several long moments before walking to the Impala and getting in.

They're not kidding themselves. Winning this war doesn't mean all their troubles are over. It doesn't fix everything. They still have to deal with the repercussions, they still have to deal with the battle scars. There are still those variables that have been subtracted from their equation. But Dean finds salvation in his two constants, in his brother and his angel, in Sam and Cas.

They also still have to deal with each other. He's not crazy enough to think this is the end of all their problems with each other. He suspects that there will be many fights, battles, and wars fought between them. They'll yell and rage at each other and not speak for days, and yet it will be okay in the end because they have each other.

After all, they're just three broken people living their broken lives in a broken world. But Dean figures that, sitting there in the Impala, maybe their broken pieces can fit together to create something better.

So Dean starts the car, turns up the radio, and together they speed down the road toward whatever tomorrow may bring.

This is one way I like to imagine Supernatural ending and giving us canon Destiel. I like it so much I had to write it down and share it with everyone =)

I purposefully made it vague (left out details like who they're fighting, et cetera) because it's supposed to be ambiguous

Please tell me what you think!

~Ki