RockStarPeach

Okay, so tiptoe39 is hosting a WAFF-a-THON, so hurry on over and check it out, for all your feel-good needs.

I saw a prompt there, left by peroxidepest17, which said Cas asks the Impala for Dean’s hand in marriage and immediately decided that fic needed to exist!

Now, a prompt like that is all but begging for schmoopy, happy crackfic. So of course that’s not what I wrote. I can’t believe I wrote Cas asking the Impala if he can marry Dean, and it’s NOT crackfic.

Yikes. Anyway, fic!

Title: Extraordinary
Pairing: Dean/Cas, Epic, non-romantic love between Dean and the Impala
Rating: G
Summary: Castiel wants Dean’s hand in marriage, but there’s someone he needs to run it past, first. Someone who claimed responsibility for Dean long before Castiel came into the picture.
Word count: 700


***

Castiel is fully aware that the Impala is a car.

He also knows, however, that she’s far more than just a car, more than the metal and rubber and sleek black paint that make up her outsides. She is the single most important object in all of creation. She has saved the world, just as surely as Dean or Sam or the hunters who came before them. And while she doesn’t have any kind of true consciousness, not exactly, she does have an energy, a spirit so vast that it only fits inside her tiny steel frame by virtue of God’s grace.

She is loyal to a fault, fiercely protective. She’s been taking care of Dean since he came into this world, she’s followed him tirelessly, given him shelter, carried him when he was weak and tired and on the brink of sanity. She’s gone to her death for him more than once and she’ll do it a thousand times over if that’s what it takes to keep him safe.

She’s been there for him, always, and he for her. They’ve faced countless trials, obstacles nearly impossible to surmount and they’ve come through the other side, because they had each other.

If you were to ask Dean, he’d probably tell you that Sam is the reason he’s still standing. Castiel supposes that’s true enough, but the Impala has carried them both on more than one occasion, when they were too tired to walk.

Dean inherited much of his character from John and from Mary, but it was the Impala that nurtured him, molded him into the person he is today. She was there when he held Sam, sleeping in the back seat and promised that he'd take care of him, always, no matter what. She was there when he learned to drive, when he was afraid, when he needed to feel safe. She was there when he went on his first hunt and had his first kiss, when John told him he was proud of him, that he'd done well. She eased him through childhood, helped him grow into a man and she did it all, selflessly.

Castiel owes her a great debt.

“I will never take him from you,” Castiel tells her. His voice is low as he places one palm flat on her hood. It’s dark outside, city lights miles away and the moon is new. Dean and Sam are inside, sleeping. This conversation is only for the two of them.

She says nothing, her cool, black exterior remains still and silent. She’s listening, though.

“He loves you and he needs you, always. As long as his heart beats he will move Heaven and Earth to keep you whole, to keep you with him. Even if he doesn’t truly understand why.”

The wind picks up and whips through the tall, unkempt grass that’s growing alongside the rough gravel of the driveway. It dies down again just as quickly. Still, the Impala says nothing.

“I have made a promise. To myself, to my father, to…” He trails off briefly, his fingers tense and flex, curl as if to dig gently into the smooth lines of her hood. “I have made a promise that I will spend the rest of my days protecting Dean from harm, fighting at his side. I will spend the rest of time loving him.”

A stone pops and skids at his toe, settles down pressed against the ridges of a tire.

“I would like to make that same promise to Dean. I would like to tell him, through my words and my actions and through the holy bond of matrimony, that I will always and forever devote myself to him. I would like his hand in marriage.”

Nothing happens. Of course nothing happens. She may be extraordinary, but she is a car.

“I just thought…” he starts. He smiles slightly, ducks his head and lets out a small huff. “You’ve been taking care of him far longer than I have. And I thought you’d like to know.”

Castiel raises his head and sets his shoulders back. He takes a breath and he looks down at his hand, barely any contrast at all in the low light between pale skin and jet black paint. He leans into the touch, fingers and palm pressing down just a little bit harder.

It’s a handshake, a clap on the shoulder. An embrace.

For just a moment, for one split, out-of-time second before he stands straight and withdraws his hand, he feels a warmth at his fingertips. Just a whisper, the faintest touch, an anomaly that human skin would write off as imagination, if they even noticed at all.

But Castiel's perception is extraordinary.

And so is this car.

END