For Rish. I really hope you enjoy this, darling!

Notes: This is just slightly AU. Some dialogue is taken directly from episodes. AU after basically season 8.

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When Dean Winchester is born, his looped string shocks all that can see them.

Unlike the cherry red ones that are attached to everyone else's hands, Dean's is burgundy. His mother feels along the loop, in awe at the color of her son's string.

It's unheard of, but Mary expects nothing less for her child. She strokes down the mess of hair that he was born with and kisses his forehead. "You're going to be special, Dean. I just know it," she murmurs against his head.

And she doesn't doubt it.

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"Dean?"

When Dean turns away from the television, Sam looks at him, eyes wide. Even at six years old, Sam had already mastered the puppy dog stare and Dean has yet to become immune to it. "Yes, Sammy?"

"Why are strings attached to our fingers?" he questions.

Dean furrows his eyebrows, giving his brother his full attention. "What?"

Sam lifts his right hand and starts to point at thin air. "These ones!" he exclaims. "Everyone I see has them. But what do they mean?"

"What do they look like?"

"Well, most of them are really red," Sam describes. "And others are black. But yours…yours is a really dark red."

Dean inspects his hands, trying to find the strings. But he sees only his hand, as he always has. After a few moments, Sam shuffles closer and pulls Dean's right hand toward himself. Dean watches in fascination as Sam makes a loop around his ring finger.

"It's right here," Sam finally explains, meeting Dean's eyes.

Dean shakes his head. "I don't know what they are, Sammy." And like that, the conversation is over, and they both watch cartoons in silence. But the thoughts about the strings don't leave Dean's mind.

.

"Bobby," Dean says tentatively, throwing the ball back. "What do the strings mean?" The man in front of him is the only person that Dean can think of to ask about this because there is no way he's asking his father.

Bobby catches the ball with ease, but makes no effort to move it back. "You can see them?"

Dean shakes his head. "Sam can," he replies. "He asked me about them, but I didn't know what they were."

"Well," Bobby starts, "it's said that the person at the end of the string is the person that your other half, complements you. But there are people, like you and I, that can't see these strings, which mean that not everyone ends up with the person at the end of it."

Dean nods understandingly. "And they're red right?" When Bobby nods, Dean questions, "What if they're black?"

"Your other half has died," Bobby replies.

"So that's why dad's string is black." And then Dean furrows his eyebrows. "Sam says mine is a dark red loop."

Bobby surveys Dean with curious eyes. "He is absolutely sure?" When Dean nods, Bobby makes a confused face. "I've never heard of a string that is dark red."

And for some reason, Dean doesn't like the sound of that.

.

Dean glances over at his brother in the passenger seat. Sam is watching the trees go by silently, which Dean isn't a fan of. He prefers when Sam is talkative. "I'm sorry, you know," he says, breaking the silence. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

"It's not your fault, Dean," he replies. He doesn't even tear his gaze from the window as he speaks.

But Dean doesn't buying the lies his brother is feeding him. If he hadn't pulled Sam into the search for their father, none of this would've happened. He knows better than to bring that up. Instead, he announces, "I know how you liked her."

That catches Sam's attention. He snaps his head around, facing Dean. "You don't get it," he growls. "She was the one. The one at the end of my string."

Dean eyes Sam. And, not for the first time, he wishes that he was be able to see the strings. "Seriously?"

Sam stares at his hand and nods. "Yeah, it's now black."

"I'm sorry," Dean whispers again.

Sam closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he exhales and reopens his eyes, he murmurs, "I know. Me too." And he turns back to watching the country side in silence.

.

"So that was Cassie?"

Dean glances up from tying his tie, staring at his brother. He raises his eyebrow.

"I'll say this for her, she's fearless," Sam says, slipping on his coat. "Can see why you were into her."

Making a non-committed sound, Dean straightens his tie. "Spit it out," he commands, knowing when his brother is beating around a bush.

Sam frowns slightly. "Her string doesn't lead to you," he replies. "Yours is still a burgundy loop."

He shakes his head. "Enough with the string bullshit," he orders. "It's just shit fed to us to make us believe in happy endings. In case you haven't noticed, we don't get happy endings." He watches as his brother's face falls, but he doesn't amend his statement. "Come on, we have more pressing matters."

He walks out of the motel room without looking back at Sam.

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Dean watches the front door open, revealing a petite brunette with a charming smile. Once she peers around, the smile fades slightly. "I wouldn't expect any less from someone who is back from the fire and in the frying pan again," she informs him.

"What do you mean?" Dean asks, his voice rather low.

She raises her eyebrow and nods toward his hand. "The string that you can't see, it's unlike most. Most are vibrant, the color of passion. Yours, however, is the color of courage."

"What does that mean?" he demands again.

Pamela's smile returns. "You'll understand when the time is right." She steps out of the doorway, motioning them inside. "Now, I've done luigied my way through a dozen spirits. None of them know who brought your boy back," she says, getting down to business.

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The sound of the tin banging against the wooden structure is enough to kick Dean into action. He picks up the shotgun from the table next to him and glances around. When the lights start to blow, Dean definitely knows that it's not the wind.

The doors open, and a figure stands there. Dean gets a rush of warmth, safety, possessiveness. But he shrugs those feelings away, raising his shotgun towards the intruder.

He and Bobby starts shooting but finds that it does nothing against the being. Sharing a look, Dean drops the shotgun and picks up the knife – the one that kills demons – and grips it.

"Who are you?" he asks.

The black hair man smiles slightly. "I am the one that gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition."

"Yeah, well, thanks for that," Dean replies sarcastically.

He raises the knife, and moves to sink it in the man's chest. As the black haired man pulls it from his chest, Dean somehow knows that he won't be harmed. He feels a rush of trust towards this man…this being.

But that rush of trust does nothing when the being announces that he is Castiel, an Angel of the Lord. Because he may believe in a lot of things, but Angels and God aren't some of them.

He is stunned nearly speechless when shadows, at least twenty feet apart, of wings appear on the wall behind him. Maybe Angels do exist. And maybe they don't.

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As Dean approaches the motel room, his veins start to drum with warmth. He recognizes the feeling and immediately bolts into the room. When he enters, he sees Sam pointing the gun at the dark haired man he met a while before.

"Sam!" he shouts. "Sam, wait!" He puts his hand on Sam's gun, effectively lowering it. "That's Castiel, the Angel."

Sam's eyes flicker between Cas and Dean. "Oh my god!" he exclaims. It takes half a second for him to realize his mistake. "I'm sorry. I didn't. Sorry."

Dean can't help but grin at his brother. But as Dean watches his brother talk with the Angel, he notices Sam keeps glancing between him and Cas' hands. An unexplainable rush of possessiveness fills Dean's consciousness, as well as warmth and protectiveness.

None of the positive emotions rushing through his body, however, are enough to diminish his anger towards the Angels.

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"Dude," Sam says. "That was Castiel?" He makes a motion toward the motel room that the two of them had just came from. "I thought they would be different, you know?"

Dean raises his eyebrow at Sam as he starts the car. "I tried to tell you." Dean can feel Sam's gaze on his right hand. "What is the staring?"

Sam's eyes snap up, meeting Dean's questioning look. "What?" He tries to seem innocent, but Dean knows better.

He nods towards his hand. "You've been staring at mine and Cas' hands since we first got into the motel room. So what's going on?"

Shaking his head, Sam replies, "It's nothing."

Even though Dean doesn't believe his brother, he lets the conversation drop anyways because he knows that Sam isn't going to offer an explanation.

.

"We only show people their strings," Cupid informs them.

Dean exchanges questioning glances with Sam. "You show them strings?" Dean asks.

"Yes. Your parents, however, were different. We only showed Mary them as she was the only skeptical one."

"You can say that again," Dean murmurs. And then realization dawns on him. "Can you show me mine?"

The Cupid nods once. "I can. It is my job, you know." As the Cupid moves closer to Dean, he questions. "Are you sure about this? Because once I give you the ability to see your string, I can't take it away."

Dean nods. "Absolutely."

Cupid holds out his hand. Eyeing it skeptically, Dean finally places his hand in Cupid's. Cupid furrows his eyebrows. "Curious," he mutters.

"What's curious?"

Cupid grins. "Why don't you take a look at it yourself?"

Dean picks his hand up from Cupid's grip and examines it. A burgundy loop wraps itself around his ring finger. It shimmers in the light, nearly blindingly. "Why is it this color?" he inquires.

Cupid glances between Dean and Cas. "I'm afraid that I can't tell you. You have to figure that out for yourself in due time." And without another word, the Cupid disappears.

And Dean now understands why everyone who wasn't blind to the strings found his so curious. Somehow he knows that the strings aren't supposed to shimmer. It's fascinating, nonetheless.

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He cares about Lisa. She's the person that kept him together after losing Sam, so he'll always feel a fondness toward her. But, as he drives nails into the sheetrock, he finds himself realizing that he isn't in love with her.

He glances at the string the Cupid made visible a year ago. It still shimmers in the light. He wonders who will be at the end of it. And then he wonders why it's a loop in the first place. He wonders why it's not a string, like what Sam – don't think about Sam, he scolds himself.

He hits the nail a little too hard, frustrated at himself and at this situation. It's not that he doesn't care about Lisa; it's that he misses Sam a lot more.

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Sam and Bobby are suspicious. And Dean, as much as he doesn't want to, understands it. He doesn't see Cas making the mistake. He doesn't see Crowley fooling Cas.

But he ignores it. He trusts Cas. Or at least he did. And he's hoping, praying that he is wrong, that they all are wrong about him.

He isn't sure how he will handle if they were right.

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Every positive emotion that is drumming through Dean's body is not enough. It's not enough to stop the rise of anger, resentment, hurt. He is confused on how he can feel unexplainably happy and blindingly irate at the same time, but it always seems to happen around Castiel.

Castiel is blinding, like he always in when he uses his power, but – even turned away to avoid the light – Dean can feel the change in Castiel. Something's much different.

Dean watches helplessly as Castiel murders Raphael in cold blood. And when Castiel turns to look at Dean, Dean isn't exactly sure what to do. There's a part of him, a large part, screaming that Castiel will never hurt him, but the other is worried about how easily Castiel could take him out if he wishes.

He decides to tread cautiously, knowing that any little thing could set Castiel off. But as he speaks, he gains more confidence as he puts all his trust into Castiel not hurting him. And he finds himself pleading with Castiel to get rid of the souls.

But Castiel isn't going to. Because he's different. Any person can tell. He is God now.

As Castiel leaves, Dean pleads one last time for him to change, to give up the souls. But they fall on deaf ears. Thankfully, he doesn't have time to wallow in his anger. Sam collapses from the wall being destroyed, and Dean busies himself with tending to his brother.

Sam suffering from memories of Hell hurts him worse than if Castiel would've hurt him.

.

When he sees Cas again, his emotions are conflicting. He feels as he always does – protectiveness, possessiveness, warmth. But it's nothing in comparison to the wave of anger and bitterness and resentment that he feels.

He failed. He couldn't save Cas; he couldn't stop him from taking the souls. And as he's helping Cas send the souls back to Purgatory, he finds that – despite Cas' regret and want for forgiveness – he can't give it to the Angel. He can't give it to him until he forgives himself for not saving Cas.

Relief floods his body as he watches the souls being drained from Cas' body. It's immediately replaced with fear as Cas collapses. As Cas lies there, cold and not breathing, Dean finds himself desperately wishing that he would wake up.

Cas stirs and Bobby and Dean rush to help him up. There's something different. Something colder. Dean isn't getting the same rush of emotions he usually does around Cas.

His suspicions are confirmed as Cas pulls away from their grip and yells for them to run. Dean is rooted in the spot, watching as the Leviathans take over Cas' body. When Cas looks at him, Dean feels a chill run down his back. That is not Cas, not his Angel. It's a monster.

After finding Sam, whose unable to distinguish memories from reality – causing more anger to course through Dean's body – they follow Cas' blood trail. The Leviathans take Cas' body to the nearest lake, and Dean realizes that it isn't good. They could get so many places from that lake.

Cas goes into the lake, and he doesn't come back out.

It's bad. And, despite himself, Dean grabs the trench coat that's washed up on the shore. "You bastard," he whispers. He's not sure if he's angrier about the Leviathans getting out or Cas being stupid enough to believe he could handle all those souls.

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This is not what Dean expected when he originally heard of the Faith Healer. He's expecting to meet a phony. He isn't expecting to see Cas. He isn't expecting for the emotions that he's been trying to hide in the bottom of a bottle to hit him so hard.

But Cas is standing in front of Dean, and Dean know what he's supposed to do. He's supposed to take Cas to Sam, to heal him, because he knows that Cas can help. There's a part of him, though, that worries that Cas won't do it.

And he's ashamed of that part.

He's ashamed that he doesn't trust Cas anymore. There was a time where he would've trusted Cas explicitly, a time where trust would've drummed its way through his body. But since the Leviathans, he's having trouble trusting anyone.

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Watching Cas stare of into the distance should have given Dean some sort of relief. Sam's better and that's the most important part. But it's Cas, his mind argues. He can't feel relief when Cas is going through exactly what Sam was.

Before he leaves, he shakes his head in disappointment. "Cas," he murmurs.

He turns away, unable to find any words to say. He can't help the Angel deal with Sam's demons. And he's ashamed to say that he's thankful that Cas would take it on to save Sam.

On the way out, he looks down to notice his loop become a deep garnet. "Sam?" Dean questions.

Sam turns toward him. Wordlessly, Dean raises his hand. Sam's eyebrows furrow as he examines the loop around Dean's finger. "It's darker," he finally concludes.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Dean retorts sarcastically. "Why is it darker?"

Sam shrugs. "I don't know, but I can find out."

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"Your string," Sam marveled.

Dean takes his hand off the wheel and examines it. The loop that has been a deep garnet has lightened back up to its original burgundy color. "Maybe it has something to do with cracking up that rock," he says, frowning slightly.

Sam raises his eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "It's been darker for weeks now. And the moment we get this object, your string becomes normal again. It sounds strange."

"What we do is strange," he retorts.

And for once, Sam doesn't respond.

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The darkness of Purgatory is much different than the Earth's. But Dean makes his way through, walking beside Benny. The fondness that Dean feels towards Benny is odd. Benny is the very thing that Dean has spent his life killing, but here in Purgatory, Benny is the only ally that Dean has.

"I know you want to know," Benny says, his voice thick with a southern accent. "Just go ahead and ask it."

Dean raises his eyebrow at him. "You're a vampire," Dean states. Amusement crosses his companion's face. "Why haven't you tried to drink me?"

Benny shrugs. "In Purgatory, I'm not thirsty," he responds. "Besides, I drink blood, not humans." Silence falls between the two of them for a while before Benny speaks again. "What's the deal with your string?"

"You can see it?" Dean asks, eyebrows furrowed.

Nodding, Benny continues. "In all my time, I've never see a string quite like yours."

Dean shakes his head. "I'm not even sure. My brother says that it's been like this since I was about nine or ten. It wasn't until a few years ago that I was able to see it." Turning towards Benny, he nods at his hand. "What about yours? You have one, don't you?"

Laughter fills the air. "Of course I have one," Benny confirms. "I was human once. Mine lead to Andrea. It's the reason I saved her. I couldn't let the person at the end of my string die because of orders. I ended up getting killed for it, though."

"It's black now, isn't it?" Dean asks. He remembers how Sam talked about his blackening after Jessica's death, and how Bobby's was black.

"Nah," Benny replies. "It's still bright red. I figure that it's because I died before she did that it didn't blacken."

And then the conversation is over.

.

Cas has been acting strange since their return from Purgatory. Dean isn't blind, but he wishes he was. He doesn't want to go through Cas betraying them again. It's just when he's starting to trust the Angel again.

Sam shakes his head sadly at Dean. "I'm sure it's nothing," he says.

But Dean isn't reassured. Because the last time that he's heard that, Cas was really working with Crowley.

He hates that, despite the rush of fondness toward Cas, he still can't bring himself to trust the Angel again because the seed of doubt will always be there.

.

Dean's doubts are brought to reality as Cas holds the Angel blade. As Dean is pleading with Cas to do the right thing, he is remembering the last time he was in this situation. He isn't going to let it go that way again.

The only thing that is stronger than the fear, the anger and the resentment is the pure trust that is drumming through his body. He has faith in the Angel standing above him. Undeniably, unexplainable faith that he won't be killed.

He watches through swollen eyes as Cas picks up the Angel Tablet. And despite the trust he has, he flinches when Cas' rests his hand against Dean's cheek. The warmth of Cas' powers spread through his face and his arm.

As Dean examines his arm, he can't help but notice the burgundy loop shimmering brighter than usual. He can't dwell on it for long, though.

"I'm so sorry, Dean," he whispers.

And relief floods Dean's body as he understands that Cas, his Cas, is back with him. The relief is short-lived as Cas disappears, Angel Tablet in his possession.

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"You want to close Heaven?"

Cas is sitting next to Dean at the table. Kevin is a few feet away, working on the Angel Tablet. Cas looks at Kevin before looking at Dean. "Yeah. There's a lot of things that we need to settle, and having access to Earth during this feud isn't good."

"I'm all for it," Dean replies. "But are you sure you can trust Metatron?"

"I have no other choice," Cas answers. "Kevin is right. He won't be able to translate the Tablet in time for me to know. Metatron is the Scribe of Heaven. He wrote these Tablets. I expect that he knows what he's doing."

Dean just makes a motion of agreement and prays that Metatron is actually telling the truth.

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Gail, the Cupid, looks between Dean and Cas and smiles. "You're here for my bow, aren't you?"

Cas steps forward. "Yes."

She glances at Dean's hand. Her eyebrow raised. "I heard that your string is different, but I thought it was just rumors," she says. "The color of courage. How fitting?"

"It's been said," Dean replies. "I don't supposed you could tell me what that means?"

She shakes her head, frowning slightly. "I'm sorry. I'm only allowed to show the strings, not explain them."

Nodding, Dean sighs as he already expect that answer. "That's what I thought."

"But I can tell you that you'll find out soon," she informs him. "Much sooner than you think."

.

He's sitting next to Sam in the hospital room, his head in his hands. Sam is hooked up to oxygen and is unconscious. Guilt rises through his stomach, knowing that if he would've been the one to complete the tasks, his brother would be alright.

He finds himself praying to Cas, to anyone, really, to help save his brother. Because he's desperate.

As he goes down to his car, one of the Angel – an enemy, he guesses – attacks him. Another Angel comes to his rescue – Ezekiel. Dean is reluctant to trust him, but does anyways. He just wishes that he makes the right decision. Because he can't lose Sam, not after everything.

.

"Dude," Sam says.

Dean glances at his brother – his healing brother – and raises his eyebrow. "What?"

"Your string," he responds, nodding towards Dean's hand. "When did that happen?"

Dean examines his hand. His once burgundy loop stretches out, disappearing through the car. He frowns. "I don't know," he mutters. In all of the excitement of the past few days, Dean has only been focused on Sam. "I didn't even notice."

Sam gives him a questioning look, but drops the conversation. They spend the ride back to the Bunker in silence; Dean thinking about who could be on the other end, and Sam wondering why it took it this long to become a string.

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Cas shows up to the bunker a few days later. He looks rugged, and a little worse for wear, but he's alive.

Dean pulls him into a hug, grinning like fool. His veins are positively pulsing with fondness, possessiveness, happiness. He feels a million times better than he ever did drinking alcohol.

When Sam enters the lobby, he smiles happily. "Cas, you're alright!" Jealousy pounds its way through Dean's body as Sam hugs Cas, but he bites back the remark. "Come on," Sam says. "I'm sure you would like a shower."

Dean watches as Sam leads Cas down the hallway, toward the bathroom. And he stands there, a grin on his face, until Sam comes back.

"So Cas is human now?"

The smile fades slightly. "Yeah. Metatron tricked him into believing he could shut the Angels in Heaven, when, in reality, Metatron was expelling all Angels from Heaven."

"He must have a bounty on his head," Sam remarks. "The Angels won't be happy about that."

Dean shakes his head. "No, I don't image they would be." When Dean turns to look at his brother, Sam is obviously trying to hide something. Dean can tell by the expression on his brother's face. "What?" he demands.

Sam turns his gaze towards the hallway. "Maybe it's for the best."

"Excuse me?" Dean's voice comes out harshly.

"I mean, Cas being human," he corrects himself. He meets his brother's gaze. "I know for a fact that your looped didn't become a string until after the Angels fell."

"What are you saying?" Dean asks suspiciously. He thinks he already knows what Sam is talking about, though.

Sam sighs and nods at Dean's hand again. Dean follows his gaze to his own hand. His burgundy string is shimmering brighter than usual. "Your string is positively shinning," he says. "That's not normal."

Dean's face hardens. "Spit it out," he commands.

"Think about," Sam encourages. "I know you know the answer."

And somehow, Dean knows he does too.

.

As he's standing in front of Cas, Dean follows his string with his eyes. It's undeniable where it leads. It leads to the being that he has fought Heaven and Hell with.

And, after so long, he finally understands what Pamela meant. They defy the odds. They fought with and against one another, but the emotions, the feelings – the fondness, protectiveness, possessiveness – still rushes through Dean's veins like a drum beat as they did the first time they met.

It took courage to do what they've done. It took courage to find trust in one another after it's been broken. And it took courage to protect and sacrifice for one another.

Now, as Dean steps forward and presses his lips against the Fallen Angel's, he gets a rush of feeling that he never experienced before. And he wonders if it's because Cas is the person that completes him.

But somehow, he knows, that even without the string, he would be lead back to Cas. Every time.

A/n – so many thanks for Amber for looking over this for me.