Title: The Ineffable Rapture of Heaven & Earth
Chapter: 1. In The Loam We Sleep
Author: MallowCakes
Rating: PG (for now), Destiel
Warnings: None at the Moment
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not making money off this either.
Distribution: By appointment only.
AN: Thank you to my betas: Chelsey-Jorax Diggory and musingfangirl. Also, double thank you to my friend brohne for being a great pair of second eyes and tuning me into some great inspirational music.

Dean Winchester stretched out a tired arm feeling for a pillow and refusing to open his eyes. It was too early to greet the world yet.

He found one and pulled it towards him, laying his cheek against it, trying to get comfortable enough to fall back asleep. It was warmer than he expected and it had a nicer smell to it then he remembered. But, damn it was lumpy. He smacked the top of it lightly with the palm of his hands.

"Dean." He knew that voice. The monotone voice of his friendly neighborhood guardian angel was coming from just above his ear. He froze mid-pat and opened his eyes. He knew that trench coat.

"Cas?" He spoke, his voice deeper than usual with sleep. Sitting up as quick as he could manage he grumbled, "Why the hell are you my pillow?"

His brain still wasn't acclimated to the wake-up or the strange position in which he found himself this morning. He fought to ease the fog from his brain as Castiel sat up in the bed, adjusting for his uncomfortable stiffness.

"Dean. We've got a problem."

"You're damn right we've got a problem, Cas. And that problem is I'm going to kick your ass if you don't answer my question."

"I lack the physical construct of a pillow." Castiel blinked at the absurdness of what he was saying, "Dean. The room."

Taking a moment to look around, dean realized he wasn't in his hotel room anymore. The walls of this room were green and everything else in it was pure white except for a large flat screen television that hung on the wall opposite the bed. There were matching nightstands on either side of the bed. One was mostly empty with just a lamp and a remote control. The other side held a stack of classic novels and cookbooks. There was also a large closet with dirty clothes strewn around the open door and a large dresser. The bed was huge with more pillows than looked comfortable. But no, he grabbed onto the angel.

"This is..."

"Not your motel room." Castiel finished the sentence for him, his eyebrows knitting together for emphasis.

Dean nodded. The last layer of sleep fighting to cling to his brain.

"There's another problem."

"If you consider interior decorating a problem." Dean shrugged.

"I can't use any of my powers. I can't hear anything from Heaven either," Cas continued, ignoring the smart remarks.

"What? You forgot how to angel or something?"

"No, Dean. It's like my powers aren't there at all."

"Should we be worried about this?"

Castiel stood up and walked across the room, his feet sounding on the hardwood floor.

"I don't know, Dean."

"Well, are you human?"

"I don't know, Dean."

Dean looked around the room again before standing and stretching.

"Something's been bothering me since I looked around the room, Doesn't all of this seem oddly..."

"Familiar?"

"Dammit, Cas! Would ya stop doin' that? I can speak. But, yes. Familiar?"

"Agreed. But, why? I've never been here in my life."

Dean made a noise in agreement before walking past the angel and out the bedroom door and into a hallway. There were doors on either side and a staircase leading to a lower floor. Dean headed down the stairs like his muscles remembered what they were doing even if he didn't. Castiel followed him down until they were both standing in a small entranceway. There was a door to their right leading outside. To their front an archway that looked like it lead into a living room and the hallway extended to the right of them leading to more doors and opening into a kitchen.

There was a small table by their front door that held a stack of mail, a set of keys, and a few picture frames. Dean stepped forward to pick up the largest one and made a noise of disbelief as he saw it. It was a cabin. Cas and Dean were sitting on the porch steps talking as Sam attempted to grill some hamburgers closeby.

A smaller picture was a double frame that held Dean as a kid and what looked like a young Castiel. The last was Dean, Cas, and Bobby in what looked like a car garage.

"Pictures of us." Dean said, looking up after the angel didn't respond.

Castiel was staring into the kitchen with a dumbfounded expression. The same look he got every time someone tried to explain something a little too human to him. Eyes squinted and mouth crooked to the side. Dean chuckled.

"Cas? You there, man?"

"Dean." Cas answered, turning to look at the hunter. "I know how to make pie?"

"You... know how to make... pie?" Dean said slowly, not understanding why he was being told this.

"Yes. I know how to make all the pies."

"All of them? Really? Congratulations." Dean raised an eyebrow in confusion at the strange conversation.

Without another word Cas headed off towards the kitchen and Dean followed him. The kitchen was spotless, silver, and blue with a huge island in the middle of it. There were appliances for anything you could think of along the space of the counters.

"Junk drawer." Dean said to himself with a snap of the fingers.

He stepped behind the island and was opening drawers until he found what he was looking for. The drawer was stuffed with random papers which he pulled a stack out of and shifted through them quickly. He saw his name on a lot of them. Vet bills. Vacation brochures. Cruise brochures. Adoption information. Recipes. Take-out menus. Not much help, really. It was surprisingly organized for a junk drawer.

He looked around to see that Cas was no longer in the room with him and had wandered somewhere else. Dean scanned the refrigerator for anything that could give him a clue as to what the hell was going on... and why this all seemed so familiar to him. He knew that bedroom. He knew this kitchen. He knew the entire layout of this house.

"Dean." Cas' voice called him from the direction of the living room, the usual flatness in his tone cracking a little.

"Yeah?" Dean said, putting the papers back into the drawer and starting to walk towards the voice.

"We've got another problem."

"What is it now, Cas? I have to tell you this whole thing is really starting to shake -"

Dean stopped mid-sentence as he stepped into the living room and saw what Castiel was referring to. And it was definitely a problem.

Above a corner fireplace in the living room hung a rather large picture of Cas and Dean in what were decidedly groom's tuxedos. They were both smiling and Dean had Cas squeezed up to him kissing the hell out him. Sitting on the mantle in black and white was a marriage license, their names both signed. Witness signatures. Dated. Legal.

"What the hell?" Dean's eyebrows shot up.

"I don't know."