Leave My Wings Alone

By the time Dean and Sam arrived at the hospital, Margaret's grandmother had calmly stopped breathing, and the Joneses were hugging her and whispering comfort.

Sam tried to move forward, but Dean stopped him, shaking his head.

They stood in the distance and watched quietly for a while, and when they were about to leave, Mr. Jones suddenly raised his head, turned his gaze, and saw the two of them.

He quietly pulled away from his wife and daughter, and then walked towards the brothers.

Dean thought he was here to ask questions, but he didn't know how to explain, Mr. Jones said suddenly: "Thank you."

"What?" Both brothers were taken aback.

"Margaret's grandmother should not be here long ago, she is in pain. Margaret has been praying for her to live forever, but my mother's life is getting more and more painful every day, and the pain is tormenting her. I think it's okay , at least she didn't suffer when she left." Mr. Jones went back to his wife and daughter without waiting for their answer after saying this.

Sam and Dean looked at each other, neither of them saying a word.

Mr. Jones didn't know what happened, but he was right. Margaret's wish was for her grandmother to stay, but the wishing pool could only sustain her life, and the pain was still eroding her. Such torture is for the old man It was unbearable.The doctor asserted that she would not be able to survive tomorrow night, but if the silver coin in the wishing pool remained, she would linger on like this forever. She would not die, but she had to endure pain.

"I kind of don't believe it's possible at all," Sam finally said.

Dean patted him on the shoulder: "Sammy, go back."

One of the first things Dean did was stay in the Impala.

"I'm going to spend the night here," he announced.

Sam, who was standing outside the car, sneered and didn't make any comments. He knocked on the window and waited until Dean rolled it down before asking, "Can you explain what made you suddenly enlightened?"

"what do you mean?"

"I mean, before you were a hundred times unwilling to let me try to pluck your wings, but after seeing the wishing pool, you became more cooperative."

"That's because I know where this guy came from, and I don't want any bad luck." Dean had a smile on his lips.

"So you're still not going to tell us what exactly you wished for, are you?"

"Don't even think about it."

"Whatever you want, I'm going to bed." After Sam finished speaking, he left the car with him and left, and he even said hello to Castiel before leaving.

Castiel watched Sam walk into the motel, hesitated, and said to Dean, "I'm going back too."

Dean pretended not to hear the words, opened the car door, and beckoned to him: "Come in."

Castiel hesitated for a while, then got in and sat in the co-pilot's seat.

"Listen," Dean said, putting his hands on the steering wheel and looking straight ahead, "Sam and I, we're both exhausted from the werewolf case, because that guy was so hard to deal with, and it wasn't the beginning of the month."

Castiel turned slightly, his eyes on Dean's profile.

"Can you feel that feeling, exhausted, just want to go back to sleep, and then the car blows out halfway, and there's not even a street light there who knows where that is."

"Dean..."

"Shh," Dean continued, smiling back at him, "and then Sam went down to change the tire, and I sat in the driver's seat full of discontent, wanting to kill some more werewolves."

"Then I remembered you, you haven't been seen for a week, because of some shit in heaven. Actually, that werewolf was trying to take my heart out, and I almost let him do it—I figured it out anyway You, I said to myself 'damn, where's my little wing, why can't he show up once', and the next day, I grew a pair of wings."

Castiel realized that Dean was telling him what he wished for that night, and he felt an indescribable feeling creep over his chest after hearing the answer, and he put his hands on his lap uncomfortably and grabbed the fabric.

"Now we all have to admit that those wings are my bad luck, and it's you that I want." Dean moved closer to Castiel's direction, breathing softly, "Although you did appear, it still We had a big fight."

Dean waited a while before Castiel said, "Heaven—"

As a result, he didn't say a word, and Dean interrupted him unwillingly: "Sweetheart, we are in a relationship, can you stop being so spoiling."

So Castiel showed the bewildered expression in the bar again, he seemed to have forgotten how humans should breathe, and struggled to form a sentence: "I don't know what to say."

"Then don't say anything." Dean leaned forward, pressed him against the car door, and kissed his lips, this time prying open his teeth without any hindrance, and slipping his tongue inside.

Dean was about to hug Castiel and kiss him shamelessly. The angel who was being crushed underneath finally found a way to breathe. Under Dean's tangled lips and tongue, he desperately squeezed out a sentence: "Dean... I'm about to fall. ..."

Hearing what he said, Dean moved his hand all the way down, grabbed Castiel's hand and wrapped it around his waist, "Don't you know that you have to put your arms around my waist when you kiss?"

Castiel was pressed and kissed by him for five or six minutes, during which he tried to learn how to kiss back, which made Dean kiss more and more vigorously, making Castiel feel that he would be out of oxygen in a while.

Finally, Dean felt barely satisfied, and then backed out. He looked at Castiel who was panting slightly, and suddenly asked, "Aren't you wondering why only I can see those wings?"

But when he asked such a question, the answer was naturally obvious.

He wants to see him, he just wants to see him alone.

Castiel sits up, straightening his rumpled clothes, and Dean leans over to help him button his collar while he smooths out the wrinkles in the fabric.

In the end, the two of them worked together, and Castiel returned to his unsmiling and ascetic self.

They didn't want to talk for a while, so they started eye contact as usual, and finally Dean couldn't help but said, "Are you leaving?"

"Yes," Castiel nodded, thought for a while and added, "There are still a lot of shit waiting for me in heaven."

Dean leaned up and kissed him again: "You've got to make sure you're on call, or I think you'll go crazy thinking about it and maybe you'll make yourself a pair of wings again."

"You can't summon me for everything..." Castiel had to admit he was a little threatened, but he tried to struggle.

Dean stepped back, his peacock green eyes fixed on him: "Do you think I'm the kind of boyfriend who doesn't care about anything?"

"No." Castiel answered him without thinking.

Dean was a little satisfied, he reached out and pinched the angel's waist, and asked, "So would you like to be a boyfriend who is always on call?"

This time Castiel stopped to think seriously, and when Dean's hand was about to reach into his clothes, he grabbed the restless hand and pulled it out, and finally replied:

"Yes I do."