A.N.: Spoilers up to 7x10

Good Things Do Happen

By Daylight

Dean did not know what he was expecting when he answered the knock at the door that morning. He did know that he was seriously unprepared for whatever it might be.

The knock had woken him from another restless sleep and he had gotten up to answer it wearing nothing but a T-shirt and an old pair of sweatpants, no weapons, no checking through the window or calling out to see who it was: all things that had been drilled into him by his father since he was five years old, all natural instincts any sane hunter would use if he wanted to stay alive. But today, Dean just couldn't seem to care. He didn't think there was anything behind that door that could make his life any crappier than it already was.

So he stood there in his pyjamas and bare feet as he resignedly opened the door to face whatever life wanted to throw at him next.

It took several seconds for him to recognize the person on the other side, which in retrospect was strange considering how well he knew them and how long he had been wishing to see them.

It must have been the clothing that threw him. The man was wearing a brown cargo jacket from which several pockets had been removed, a black and white shirt with a potentially eye-watering pattern, a yellow T-shirt featuring a faded logo of some sports team Dean had never heard of, a pair of jeans that must have been held up by a belt since they were more than a couple sizes too large, and a pair of sneakers which once had been white but were now gray and in danger of disintegrating. All the clothes were old and shabby as well as wrinkled and dirty as if they had been the only thing the man had worn for a week.

It was all a big contrast to the normal black suit, blue tie, and overly-large, beige trenchcoat.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel said, hesitantly.

Dean just stared. After a few moments of this, he distantly realized his brain had stopped functioning. No thoughts appeared in his head and his body seemed completely incapable of movement.

Castiel's expression seemed to crumple inward when Dean didn't reply and he looked away. "You were very difficult to find," he said. "I went to Bobby's but his place was gone."

Burnt to the ground would be a more accurate description, thought Dean but he couldn't form the words.

"And your phone numbers appear to have changed."

Three times in the past four months and they were due to change again next Tuesday.

"I still had some sense of where you were, but the location kept changing and I didn't have much means with which to travel."

Out of angel mojo again, Dean observed feeling strangely detached. Cas looked thinner too or maybe that was due to the change of clothes. His watery blue eyes didn't have the intensity they used to and his face grew more and more crestfallen the longer Dean stayed silent.

"I had to find you though. I needed to…"

"Dean, what the hell is…" said Sam suddenly interrupting.

Dean heard his brother come to a stop behind him. He'd almost forgotten about Sam idling away in the bathroom while all this was going on.

"Cas?" Sam said his voice choked with hope and disbelief.

Good. Sammy could see him too. Though considering all the things Sam had been seeing of late, did that make it more or less likely this was in fact a hallucination?

"Sam," Castiel said with what was probably a bit of trepidation, but then he had reason to be nervous since all Sam's hallucinations were his fault to begin with.

And Dean was still kind of pissed off about that. He owed Cas a punch in the face and more besides, but he couldn't seem to call up any anger.

"But you…? But how…? What…?" Sam's words tripped over themselves, but at least he hadn't been driven completely mute like Dean.

"You're probably wondering why I'm still alive," Castiel continued when neither Winchester seemed capable of saying anything more. "I'm fairly certain it wasn't God this time. I think the Leviathan just assumed I was dead when they left my vessel. I'm afraid I wasn't very coherent when I pulled myself from the reservoir and I'm not entirely sure what happened, but I woke up in a hospital a few months ago with a bad case of pneumonia." His face pulled into an expression of displeasure. "I'm starting to very much dislike hospitals."

Dean wanted to say something sarcastic about hospitals being places no one liked, or at least nod in agreement, but his strings still seemed to be cut.

"I was ill for a long time, but I began searching for you as soon as I could. I needed to find you. I wanted to make sure you were okay, and I also wanted to apologize, to both of you. I know I did before, but…"

But sorry wasn't big enough a word to cover everything he'd done, Dean mentally finished for him.

"I don't expect you to forgive me, but I thought…" Castiel trailed off his shoulders slumping in defeat as he looked at the ground. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come. I'll leave."

He turned to go, but before he could, whatever spell had been cast over Dean broke, and he reached out to stop him. Castiel paused glancing at the hand on his shoulder then at Dean with a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"Cas…" Dean began, but then realized he really didn't have anything to say. He pulled the angel towards him wrapping his arms around him in a desperate hug.

Castiel stiffened, standing there awkwardly in the embrace.

"That means he forgives you," Sam explained, a tearful break in his voice.

Slowly, Cas began to relax until his arms held on to Dean as tightly as he held on to him.

The angel's body was solid and warm in Dean's arms. He was real. Castiel was really there, Dean realized as his mental processes began to catch up. Cas was alive.

Dean hugged his friend tighter, hand clutching firmly to the back of his shirt and refusing to let go.