Archive of Our Own

Sam's car hummed along the highway as the summer heat shimmered off the asphalt. The windows were down, and classic rock played low, something by Led Zeppelin, because of course it was.

Cas stared out the window, watching the familiar landmarks blur past. They were getting close. He could feel it in his chest, that familiar tightness that started about thirty miles from home.

"So," Sam said, glancing over. "You excited?"

Cas blinked. "Excited?"

"To see your family." Sam grinned. "It's been a while, right? Since winter break?"

"Five months," Cas said automatically. He'd been counting.

"See? That's a long time." Sam's eyes were on the road, but he was still smiling. "I'm excited to see Dean. He's been texting me nonstop about this barbecue he's planning. Apparently he's been perfecting his burger recipe."

Cas's heart did something complicated. He'd learned to ignore it.

"Dean is... a good cook," he managed.

Sam laughed. "He's fine. The burgers are good, though, I think you'll like them."

Cas nodded. He'd like them. He always liked whatever Dean made.

Cas had known Dean for most of his life.

They'd met as kids, back when Cas was eight and Dean was twelve. Sam had brought Cas home from school since they'd been in the same class and friends from the first day, and Dean had been there, sitting on the couch, eating cereal straight from the box.

"Who's the tiny guy?" Dean had asked, mouth full.

Sam had rolled his eyes. "Dean, this is Castiel. He's my friend. Be nice."

Dean had looked Cas up and down. Cas had stood there, frozen, not sure what to expect.

Then Dean had grinned. "Nice to meet you, Castiel. You like pizza? Sam's terrible at ordering pizza. He always gets the wrong toppings."

Cas had blinked. He'd expected a nickname. Everyone always gave him a nickname eventually, Cassie, mostly. His family had called him Cassie since he was old enough to understand that it was meant to be demeaning.

"I do not," Sam had protested, pulling Cas out of his thoughts. "I do get the right toppings. You just don't like vegetables."

"Vegetables don't belong on pizza," Dean had said, still grinning at Cas. "You want pepperoni? I'm getting pepperoni."

Cas had nodded, mute as Dean had clapped him on the shoulder.

"Good choice, kid. You've got taste."

That had been it. The beginning of everything.

It had happened a few months later. Cas had been at the Winchester house again, sitting on the floor of Sam's room while Sam did homework. Dean had walked by and paused in the doorway.

"Hey, Cas. You want a soda?"

Cas had caught it awkwardly. "Cas?"

"Yeah." Dean had shrugged. "Castiel is a mouthful. You mind?"

Cas had shaken his head. "No. I don't mind."

He hadn't minded at all.

No one had ever called him Cas before. His family used Castiel like it was a chore, or Cassie like it was a joke. His teachers used Castiel like they were reading a name off a roll sheet. Even Hannah called him Castiel, though she softened it somehow, made it sound less like a command.

"Cool." Dean had grinned. "You want to watch a movie later? Sam's got a test, so he's gonna be boring for the next few hours."

"I do not-" Sam had started.

"You do," Dean had said, sending a grin to Cas. "You get used to him."

Cas had nodded. He'd nodded because Dean was so effortlessly cool with his don't-care kind of cool that Cas had never been able to pull off. Dean was mean sometimes, sharp-tongued and quick with a joke at someone else's expense, but he loved Sam so fiercely that it was impossible to miss. It radiated off him in everything he did.

He was loud and messy and laughed too hard at his own jokes. He fixed cars and fought bullies and made sure Sam never felt alone.

And Cas, at eight years old, had wanted that so badly it ached. He'd wanted to be included in that fierce, protective love. He'd wanted Dean to look at him the way he looked at Sam, like Cas mattered, like Cas was worth protecting, like Cas was family.

He hadn't known then that he'd spend the next fourteen years trapped in that exact role.

Cas thought about that moment now, sitting in the car with Sam, watching the familiar landmarks blur past.

Dean had been so cool back then. He still was, in a different less reckless, more settled, but still effortlessly himself kind of way. Still the kind of person who could make Cas feel like he mattered with a single word.

Cas.

No one had ever called him that before.

And now, fourteen years later, he was still chasing that feeling. Still hoping Dean would look at him and see something more than Sam's quiet friend. Still waiting to be included in Dean's life the way he'd always wanted.

But he was stuck in the same role he'd been in since he was eight. Sam's friend. The kid brother. The one Dean was nice to because he was nice to everyone.

Cas closed his eyes.

Cas thought about Dean. An omega. Four years older. Sam's older brother. His brother's ex.

It was a cruel joke, really. Cas had presented as an alpha at fifteen, right on schedule. Sam had presented as an alpha too, a year later. They'd grown up around each other, so there was never that push and pull or instinctive challenge.

But Dean's scent had triggered Cas's first rut. He'd locked himself in Sam's room, mortified, while Dean had quietly made himself scarce. Cas hadn't understood then. It had taken him years to realize Dean was trying to protect him and to give a newly presented alpha space so he wouldn't accidentally claim an omega outside his pack. That knowledge hadn't made it hurt any less.

The suppressants helped, eventually. They always did. Cas had been on them since he was eighteen, like most alphas. They kept things manageable. Kept his instincts quiet. Kept him from doing something stupid, like following Dean around like a lovesick puppy or worse trying to claim him.

But sometimes Cas wondered if the suppressants had done more than that. If they'd smoothed over the edges so well that Dean had stopped seeing him as an alpha entirely.

Because Dean wasn't just an omega. He was Dean.

And Cas? Cas was an alpha. A newly presented one, at the time, young and clumsy and full of instincts he didn't know how to control. He'd wanted to claim Dean so badly it ached. He'd wanted to bite him, to scent him, to mark him, to make sure everyone knew Dean was his.

But he couldn't. Dean was Michael's, and even when Michael left, Dean was still Dean, an omega who deserved better than a desperate, inexperienced alpha who couldn't even control his own rut.

So Cas had waited. He'd taken his suppressants and kept his distance. He'd watched Dean date other people and smiled and congratulated him through it.

Sam kept talking about Dean. About the barbecue. About Dean's new job. About some project Dean was working on. Cas listened, nodding at the right moments, but his mind was somewhere else.

"-and Dean's been asking about you, actually," Sam was saying. "He said he wanted to catch up. See how your thesis was going."

Cas blinked. "Dean asked about me?"

Sam shrugged. "Yeah. He always asks. You know how he is."

That much was true. Dean liked to check in on Sam. On his friends. On Cas.

It didn't mean anything.

Cas told himself that. He'd been telling himself that for years.

"I was thinking," Sam continued, a little hesitantly, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel, "maybe next time we come back, I could bring Jess. You know, if things work out. She's been wanting to meet everyone."

Cas smiled. It was genuine, even through the fog of his own thoughts. "She'd like Dean."

"Yeah?" Sam sounded relieved, like he'd been worried about Cas's approval.

"Everyone likes Dean."

It came out flatter than he'd intended. Sam glanced over, but Cas kept his face neutral.

"True," Sam said slowly. "Though, uh, Dean said something else. He mentioned Michael might be coming back soon. Just for a visit, but still. Do you know anything about that?"

Cas felt his stomach drop.

Michael.

Of course.

"Michael is... abroad," Cas said carefully. "I don't know when he's coming back."

"Dean seemed hopeful, he said they'd been talking more lately." Sam shrugged. "I don't know. I guess they left things kind of open-ended."

It had been three years. Michael and Dean had dated for three years, and they'd broken up in the worst way possible.

They had left it with no big fight or dramatic betrayal. There was no screaming match or slammed doors or cutting ties.

Michael had just... left.

A job opportunity abroad where his temporary arrangement became permanent. They promised to "stay in touch" but that had turned into sporadic texts and occasional calls. A relationship that had slowly, quietly, faded into nothing.

Cas had watched it happen. He'd watched Dean smile less, talk about Michael less, stop mentioning him altogether. He'd watched Dean move on, or at least pretend to.

But Michael had never really left.

Because Dean and Michael hadn't cut ties. They'd just drifted apart, and drifting meant that at any moment, they could drift back together.

Cas' mind lead him to his family group chat. The notifications that sometimes piled up too high, too fast, making his heart race with dread before he even opened them.

Cas had learned to dread the chat. Not because of the cruelty, he'd gotten used to that, but because of the news. The news that could come at any moment, the news that would shatter everything he'd built his hopes around.

Dean and Michael getting back together.

It would be quiet, probably. A casual mention. A photo of them together. A comment from Gabriel: "Look who's back!"

And Cas would have to smile. Would have to say, "That's nice." Would have to pretend he hadn't spent the last eight years loving Dean, the last fourteen years knowing him, the last six years watching him drift away from Michael and hoping, hoping, that maybe, just maybe, he'd finally have a chance.

But the door was never fully closed.

If Michael had been cruel, if Dean had hated him, if there had been a fight, Cas could have moved on. He could have told himself Dean deserved better, that Michael wasn't good enough, that Cas would be different.

But Michael wasn't cruel. He was just a ghost that could reappear at any moment.

And Dean had said, once, that he and Michael could make it work. That if they both couldn't find someone else, they'd settle down together.

"If it happens, it happens," Dean had said, shrugging like it didn't matter.

It had mattered to Cas.

It had mattered so much.

"Cas?" Sam's voice cut through his thoughts. "You okay? You kind of zoned out again."

Cas forced a smile. "I'm fine. Just tired."

Sam nodded, accepting it. "Long drive. We're almost there, though."

Cas looked out the window. The familiar landmarks were getting closer. The house was just a few minutes away.

"Michael might be coming back," Cas repeated quietly.

"Yeah. That's what Dean said." Sam glanced at him. "Is that... weird? For you?"

Cas thought about lying. He thought about saying, "why would it be weird?" He thought about pretending he didn't care, pretending he was fine, pretending Michael's potential return didn't fill him with a dread so deep it made his chest ache.

But this was Sam, his best friend who could somehow alway tell when something was wrong.

"Michael is... fine," Cas said carefully. "I just... he and Dean left things open. I don't know how to feel about that."

Sam was quiet for a moment. "Dean doesn't talk about Michael much, not anymore anyways. I don't think he's waiting for him to come back."

Cas didn't respond.

"Cas." Sam's voice was gentler now. "If this is about-"

"Sam," Cas said, too quickly. "Please. I don't want to talk about it."

Sam paused. Then: "Okay, but if you ever do-"

"I know."

Cas stared out the window. The house was coming into view now. Big and old and sprawling, full of memories he'd rather forget and people he'd rather avoid.

But Michael might be coming back.

And Dean was going to see him.

And Cas was going to have to sit there and smile and pretend he wasn't dreading the one person Dean never stopped leaving the door open for.

Cas looked out the window again. Twenty more minutes until he walked through the door, until Gabriel's voice called to him "Castiel! There he is! The prodigal son returns!"

Twenty more minutes until he sat at the dinner table and tried to disappear.

He thought about the last time he'd come home during winter break.

Gabriel had been in fine form. "So, Cassie, you still pining over Dean? Or have you finally given up on that pipe dream?"

Cas had tried not to react. He'd just stared at his plate in front of him.

Hannah had said, softly, almost pleading: "Gabriel," but her voice was too quiet. It went right over everyone's heads because no one was ever listening.

Gabriel had laughed. "What? I'm just asking! It's been, what, seven years? I'm just curious if he's finally accepted reality."

"He hasn't." Lucifer had hid his smile behind his glass. "Look at him."

Cas had been staring at his plate, willing himself to disappear, but he could feel their eyes on him anyway. Could feel his face heating.

Raphael had set down his fork. "Maybe we should talk about something else." His voice was measured, like he was trying to be the reasonable one, taking Michael's place, trying to steer the conversation away from disaster.

Anna had sighed and rubbed her temples. "Can we just- not? It's his first night back. Can we have one dinner where we don't-" She'd gestured vaguely, like she couldn't be bothered to finish the sentence.

"Fine, fine." Gabriel had held up his hands. "We'll talk about something else." He'd tilted his head, that familiar glint in his eye. "So, Cassie. How's school? Still majoring in 'things that don't pay the bills'?"

Cas had forced himself to breathe. "Religious studies," he'd said quietly. "I'm studying religious studies."

"Oh right." Lucifer had smiked. "So you can teach other people to study religious studies. It's a pyramid scheme, baby brother."

Cas had put his fork down and excused himself to his room.

Sam was talking again. Something about someone's new playlist, about a road trip he and Dean were planning, about something stupid his coworker had done last week.

They pulled up to the Shurley house. It was big and old and sprawling, it had too many rooms and too many memories..

Cas stared at it. His chest was tight.

Sam put the car in park and glanced over. "You want me to walk you in?"

"No." The word came out too fast. Cas softened it. "No, it's fine. I'll... I'll see you tomorrow?"

Sam hesitated, like he wanted to argue, then nodded. "Yeah. Tomorrow." He popped the trunk. "I'll grab your bags."

They unloaded Cas's things in silence. Sam set the suitcases by the front door, then straightened up.

"I should get going," Sam said. "Dean's probably waiting for me."

Cas's chest tightened again. Dean was waiting. For Sam. Of course.

"Tell him I said hello," Cas managed.

Sam grinned. "You can tell him yourself. I'll drag you to the barbecue, don't worry."

Cas nodded. He watched Sam get back in the car, watched him drive off toward his own place, the house he shared with Dean, the house that was just a few streets away, the house where Dean was probably making dinner right now, waiting for his baby brother to come home

He grabbed his bags and walked through the front door.

"Cassie! There he is!"

Cas forced a smile. "Hello, Gabriel."

Gabriel was already in front of him, grinning. "Look at you. All grown up. Did you bring us any souvenirs? Any interesting stories? Any-" He leaned in, mock-conspiratorial. "-news about Dean?"

Cas felt his face heat. He hated it. He hated that he couldn't control it.

"Gabriel." Anna's voice cut in.

Gabriel waved a hand. "I'm just asking! It's a legitimate question. How's our favorite omega doing? Still single?"

Cas didn't answer. He couldn't.

Lucifer appeared in the doorway. "Don't be rude, Gabriel. Let the boy breathe." He smiled at Cas. It wasn't kind. "Welcome home, Cassie."

Cas's hands clenched at his sides.

Anna walked past, a sigh escaping her. "Honestly, Lucifer. He just got here. Leave him alone."

She didn't stop walking. She didn't look back.

Hannah appeared next to Cas, looking him over with that familiar assessing gaze. Then, without a word, she reached up and smoothed down his hair, the same way she'd been doing since they were kids. Her fingers combed through the strands, tucking them behind his ear, straightening the mess the drive had made.

It was an omega thing, Cas knew. The nesting instinct and need to keep pack members neat and cared for. Hannah did it absently, like she couldn't help herself.

Dean used to do the same thing.

Before Cas presented, before everything got complicated, Dean would reach over and fix Cas's hair without thinking. They'd be sitting on the couch watching a movie, or at the kitchen table while Dean explained something, and Dean's fingers would drift over and bomb back the stray pieces or tuck them behind his ear. A casual, unconscious gesture that Dean probably didn't even notice he was doing.

Cas had noticed. He'd noticed every time.

Then he'd presented as an alpha, and Dean had stopped. Not because he was disgusted, Cas knew now, but because there were boundaries and rules about what omegas did and didn't do with alphas who weren't their pack. Dean had just pulled back on instinct.

But Cas still remembered the way Dean's fingers had felt in his hair. Soft and careful and so achingly natural. Like Cas belonged to him.

Hannah's hand dropped. "Your hair's a mess," she said flatly.

Cas blinked. "I was in a car for three hours."

"Come on," she said quietly. "I'll help with your bags."

Cas followed her up the stairs.

Behind him, he heard Gabriel's voice, "you'd think he'd grown a spine in college."

He heard Lucifer's response: "He's just dramatic."

Cas kept walking. He didn't look back.

He was home.