Chapter Text
The next time he sees Dean is at the trial. He and Jess go together in the morning. Jess straightens his tie in the car. She says, “You guys will win today,” and she kisses him.
Bobby is here. He introduces himself to Mr. McKelvie, eyes sliding over to Sam. Sam pretends not to be interested, but he’s aching to go over. Bobby looks so different in a suit and tie (trucker caps aren’t exactly court-appropriate). His grizzled beard has gone gray.
“This is one of my interns from Stanford Law,” McKelvie says, with a wide hand on Sam’s shoulders. “Sam, this is James Stewart. He’ll be a character witness on the stand today.” Sure. James Stewart. Sam wonders under which pseudonym Cas will be testifying.
“I know. De-” he takes a breath, “Mr. Page told me during prep that you’d be coming.”
“Good to meet you,” Bobby says. He doesn’t meet Sam’s eyes. “Said your name was Sam? Good name.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“No, thank you. For saving Jimmy’s skin.”
“It’s my job.”
The corner of Bobby’s mouth quirks. He nods, then shuffles back to his seat beside Cas.
“I met with Mr. Stewart this morning when he came in,” says McKelvie. “He’s the right man for this.”
“Yeah,” Sam says, “I bet he is.”
They stand for the judge.
The trial is fast, faster than Sam anticipated. Nobody in the courtroom cares enough to draw it out; that’s how it always goes for cases like this. McKelvie works for the DA as a public service, which Sam thinks honorable for a man of his reputation. He takes on cases like this one, cases that aren’t worth his time. He puts in the work anyway. He kicks Dean’s charges in the ass.
Cas and Bobby are great on the stand – cool under pressure, feeding the judge exactly what he wants to hear. Even Sam’s not sure he can discern the truth from lies.
Bobby talks about Dean’s care for his car. Cas talks about Dean’s love of children, and about Dean’s commitment to the people around him.
It goes well. It goes really well. Dean gets let off with a fine and a warning. Jess lets out a cheer from the audience at the verdict, and Sam goes red. Except then Dean’s head swivels, and his eyes pass over Jess, and then he looks to Sam. That her? he mouths. Sam nods, minutely.
After the trial, after McKelvie leaves, Dean approaches Sam and Jess.
“Hey, Mr. Winchester,” Dean says, all fake formality. “This the lady you’ve been telling me about?”
“Hi, I’m Jess,” Jess says, sticking out a hand. “Sam tells me you desecrated a grave, but it wasn’t really all that bad.”
“It was for the greater good,” Dean says. He takes her hand, and his smile could probably light up the courtroom. “God, you are really pretty.”
Sam is going to sink into the floor. That’s it, he’s done for.
“Listen, it’s really nice to meet you,” Dean says. “I mean it. I–” And then he catches Sam’s eye and stops, suddenly, his mouth snapping shut. He looks Jess over one more time. “I wish you guys the best.”
And then he turns around, like he’s actually gonna leave, and Sam catches him by the shoulder. “Dude, wait.”
“No,” Dean says, “I should. I should go. Cas has to get back to work and–”
“Dinner. Come on, nothing big, just you and me and Bobby. And Cas.”
“And me,” Jessica says, though she looks confused.
“Jess– I think it’d be best if you–”
“No, Sam. You’ve been acting weirdly for the past three days, and now you want to go for dinner with the character witnesses from your first case, and, and, I’m worried. I want to come along.”
“Jess, please. I’ll explain everything, I promise. Just give me one night. Dean? One night.”
Dean looks at Sam, eyes guarded. Then he turns, eyes seeking out Castiel. “Okay,” he says, “but I’m buying.”
“Jess?”
She presses her lips together. “You called him Dean.”
“I– what?”
“You called him Dean, just now. The defendant. Jimmy.”
“No, I didn’t.” But Sam races through the last few moments, heartbeat stammering, and– oh, he did.
“But didn’t you have a brother–”
“I’ll explain everything later,” Sam says. “I will. Please.”
Jess looks at Dean. Dean looks at his shoes. “Fine,” she says. “Go out for dinner. I’m taking the car.” She kisses him on the cheek, glances at Dean once more, and then leaves.
“You’re gonna have to tell her now,” Dean says, gaze still on the floor.
“Yeah. I know.”
“I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to–”
“I know.”
“Cas was right. Yesterday, I mean. I didn’t– I wasn’t trying to screw you over. By getting caught.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “We’ll get out of here, I swear, and you won’t hear from me ever again.”
“Dean,” Sam says, “that’s not what I want.”
Dean looks up at that. “Sorry?”
“I don’t want you out of my life. You’re my brother, Dean. I want to go out to dinner with you and Bobby and Cas, and I want to hear about the last six years. I miss you, okay? What I said before, over the phone, that wasn’t– I didn’t mean that.”
Dean laughs, but it rings hollow. “Come on, Sammy. Sam. You’re getting married; you shouldn’t have to deal with your fuck-up of a-”
“Well, maybe I want to.”
Dean glances up to Sam’s eyes, then away. “Whatever. We’re hitting the road tomorrow morning anyway, shouldn’t have been here in the first place. But maybe– I’ll call. Or something.”
“Yeah,” Sam says. “Yeah, I’d like that. Come on, let’s go for dinner.”
“I’ll get Bobby,” Dean says, and he kind of smiles.
They keep up the act until they’re in the Impala, but then Bobby lets out this big sigh of relief and says, “It’s good to see you, Sam.”
“Yeah,” Sam says. It surprises him, how nice it feels to have Bobby acknowledging him, recognizing him. Calling him by name. “It’s been too long, Bobby.”
They’re crowded into the backseat together, Sam’s knees pressed against the back of the driver’s seat. He leans over, thinking about maybe giving Bobby a half-hug or something, but–
“You try to give me a hug, I’ll shoot out your kneecaps,” Bobby grumbles, and there’s the mean old drunk he knows. Sam laughs, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Cas smile.
“Thank God that’s over with,” says Dean. The tension in his shoulders is gone. He catches Sam’s eye in the rearview mirror, and he smiles. “Sam, I owe you one.”
“It was McKelvie, not me. And Cas, Bobby, you guys were awesome.”
“This ain’t my first rodeo,” Bobby says. God, he’s exactly the same. Same trucker cap, just a little more dirt around the edges. Some things, Sam supposes, are timeless.
They eat at a cheap diner, like they always do. Dean orders the same bacon cheeseburger that he always does. He sits next to Cas in the booth again, close enough that their elbows bump. Sam’s starting to build a theory about them, but it feels far-fetched. They’re not… Dean’s not…
“You fix up that business in Alabama?” Dean asks around a handful of fries.
“Eh, turned out messier than expected,” says Bobby. “Had to send a couple other hunters for back-up. Tara and Irv, Garth too.”
“Aw, Garth? Seriously?” Dean makes a face. “You’re kidding. Dude’s afraid of ghosts.”
Sam laughs. “A hunter that’s–”
“He’s new,” Bobby cuts in. “And he’s learning.”
“Yeah, whatever. He’s all right. I mean, we’ve worked a couple jobs together, and he’s all right. A little sentimental.” Dean nudges Cas. “He gave me back-up on that werewolf gig in September, remember?”
Cas squints. “Yes, right. I remember.”
“Do you, uh,” Sam says. He clears his throat. “Do you hunt too? Castiel?”
“Oh, no. I’m no hunter.” Cas picks up the ketchup bottle, shakes it a few times. “I help with the research, sometimes. The lore is interesting. Your father kept a very detailed journal.”
Sam guesses he shouldn’t be surprised that Cas has read Dad’s journal. Even still. “Yeah, uh. He's good at his job.”
He meets Dean’s eye for a moment, and Dean looks away. “I keep our apartment warded, of course. I mean. Cas knows how to protect himself. He’s good with guns. I wouldn’t leave him on his own.”
“What do you mean, warded?”
“Well, like, Devil’s Traps under the carpets and shit. You know.”
“No,” Sam says. He looks to Bobby, then back to Dean. “Devil’s Traps. Those are for keeping out demons, right? Since when do you fight demons?”
Dean looks less certain now. He and Bobby exchange glances. “Uh. Just, you know. Lower-level stuff. Nothing too fancy.”
“That’s still, I mean, that’s dangerous,” Sam says.
Bobby picks at his fries. “A lot’s happened in the six years you’ve been gone, Sam.”
“Yeah,” Sam says, “I’m getting that.”
The tension hangs in the air for a long moment. Cas is back to reorganizing the sugar packets.
Then Dean straightens up, plasters on a grin, and says, “Vampires, for example. Dude. Vampires exist.”
Sam clenches his fork a little tighter. “Vampires? Really? Since when?”
“Found out about a year ago. They’re nasty, the fangs especially.”
“How do you kill them?”
“Chop off the head. It’s kind of gross at first, but you get used to it.”
“Vampires,” Sam says. “Huh. At least it puts the machetes to use.”
God, he thinks, this is not the kind of conversation Sam-the-law-student should be having. But the dinner is easier after that, Dean slipping back into his usual demeanor. He takes the check at the end of the meal, puts down a credit card billed to Nigel Tufnel.
It scares Sam, how familiar this feels. How much he– well, how much he misses it. He came to Stanford to get away from Dad, from endless motels and endless hunts and arguments soaked in alcohol. But he didn’t mean to leave Dean behind.
“Let’s go for a drink,” he says, because Dean is leaving in the morning.
“I’m getting too old for these late nights,” says Bobby. “Drop me off at the nearest motel, will you?”
So then it’s just Sam and Cas and Dean, and Sam still feels a little weird about Cas but he likes this dynamic. He thinks he could get used to seeing Cas at Dean’s side. Best friends, that’s what Dean said. Sam doesn’t understand it, but his opinion probably doesn’t matter anymore. He gave up that right when he stormed out six years ago.
“So what do you do, Cas?” Sam asks, when they’re settled at a table with three beers.
“I work at a gas station.” Cas fits his lips around the bottle and takes a long drink. Dean watches, and then he licks his lips and raises his own beer.
“A gas station.”
“In Rexford, Idaho.”
“It’s not glamorous,” Dean says, “but for some reason unbeknownst to me, he actually likes it.”
“I’m doing a service,” Cas says, in the tone of someone who’s had to explain this too many times. “I’m helping people.”
“Helping people buy magazines and corn nuts, maybe.” But Dean is smiling, and Cas is smiling, and something about it feels– affectionate. No, that’s the wrong word. Sam can’t figure it out, but there’s a light in Dean’s eyes that he hasn’t seen in years.
After a beat, Dean looks away from Cas, pretends to look critically at his beer, and says, “I’m going to get something harder to drink.”
Then there’s another beat of awkward silence.
“I'll go with you,” Cas says abruptly, and as he stands up he puts a hand on the small of Dean's back.
Something presses at the back of Sam’s mind, as he watches Cas and Dean walk away.
Our apartment, he realizes. That’s what Dean said. I keep our apartment warded.
And then it all falls together, too quickly.
When Cas and Dean come back, bantering with huge grins on their faces, Sam knows. Dean knocks back a shot of tequila with a smile on his face and Sam just stares.
“Dean,” he says, “is Castiel your boyfriend?”
Dean’s smile fades. He looks at Sam, and then at Cas, and there’s a flush creeping up his neck.
“Oh my God,” Sam says. “That’s it, isn’t it?”
“I need some air,” Dean says, and then he’s shoving through the crowds and out the door.
Typical Dean, avoiding confrontation when things get personal.
Sam looks at Castiel. Castiel, who drove from three states over to be here.
“Yes,” Cas says. “In answer to your question. Dean wouldn’t use that word, but yes.”
“So you’re– I mean, and he’s– um. How long have you two, that is, been together?”
“Nearly three years.”
Sam’s too drunk for this. He feels lightheaded. Three years, three years and Dean didn’t tell him. Couldn’t tell him?
“I’m going to see if he’s all right,” Cas says, pushing away from the bar.
“I’ll– I’ll come with you.” Sam digs out a few bills and leaves them with their empty glasses. He follows Cas out of the bar.
Dean is on the curb outside, trying to light a cigarette with shaking hands. “Shit,” he mutters, flicking the lighter.
“Let me,” Cas says. He steadies Dean’s hands, cradles the flame.
“It’s cold out here,” Dean says, but it’s a lame excuse.
Sam stands a few feet away. He doesn’t know if Dean wants him here. “I didn’t know you smoked,” he says.
“I don’t,” Dean says. He takes a long drag. “Well, sometimes, I mean. When I’m stressed.”
“I didn’t mean to–”
“It’s okay,” Dean says, waving him off. “I should have told you sooner.”
“Yeah,” Sam says, “I wish you had.”
Cas hovers at Dean’s side, protective almost. Sam doesn’t like that. Why would Dean need protecting from Sam? Sam doesn’t mean to– he’s not angry.
“So I, um.” The neon sign of the bar casts an eerie orange light over Dean’s profile. “Cas and I. We’re together.”
“Yeah, I got that. Dean, I didn’t know you–”
“Liked guys?” Dean snaps. “Well, I do. Big fucking deal.”
“No, that’s not what I was saying. I didn’t think you did commitment. You’ve never–”
“Yeah, well, it’s different now.” Dean offers Cas the cigarette, but he shakes his head.
Sam thinks about how changed Dean is, how much kinder, how much gentler. Dean has fewer hard edges than he used to.
“The guys thing too, though. That is new.” Sam laughs.
Dean glances at him, eyes sharp with worry, but then they soften, and he laughs too.
“I’m still trying to wrap my head around it. How long have you known?”
Dean shrugs a shoulder, exhales smoke. “Ten years, maybe?”
“Ten– ten years? But you never–”
“What was I supposed to do? I was supposed to be– Dad wanted me to be– I had more important things to worry about. Dad wouldn’t have let me come on hunts if he’d known I was getting fucked under the bleachers by Johnny Gonzalez after school,” Dean says, and it’s thick with bitterness.
“Dean.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Dean says. “I like girls too. I’m, uh, bi. It means–”
“I know what bisexuality is,” Sam says. “Jess is bi. We’re part of the GSA at Stanford.”
“Oh.” Dean looks up. “That’s, that’s good.”
“Dean, I don’t care if you like guys. I just care that you’re happy.” He shakes his head. “I’m a little angry, I guess, that you didn’t tell me you and Cas were together. That you felt like you had to hide it.”
“I was working up to it,” Dean says. “I swear, I was. It’s just.” He drops the cigarette, grinds it into the concrete with the toe of his boot. “I dunno.”
“Three days, Dean? Three days you’ve been here and you couldn’t just say, ‘Hey, I’m in a relationship with this really great guy–’” Sam nods to Cas, who smiles a little, “‘–and I just wanted you to know, because you’re my brother and you care about my life.’ I told you about Jess.”
“It’s been a busy few days,” Dean says.
“A busy few years, I guess.”
Dean shrugs. “You had your life, I had mine.”
“Yeah,” Sam says, “I don’t want that anymore. I want you to come to my wedding, dammit. And I want to be there for yours, if– if you. You know.”
Dean looks at Cas. There’s that look in his eyes again, that look Sam couldn’t make sense of before. He gets it now.
“I guess,” Dean says, “I guess that would be all right.”
“I’m gonna have to tell Jess, anyway. After today, she’s not going to leave it alone.”
“You mean– about hunting? Everything?”
“Yeah. It’s probably time, anyway. She has a right to know what kind of person she’s marrying.”
“It won’t change anything,” Dean says. “She loves you. You’re a good person, Sam. You’re good for her.”
“You think so?” Sam smiles, and then Dean smiles, and then things aren’t so bad anymore. There’s less tension in the air. Cas’s hands, curled into fists at his sides, finally relax.
“Yeah, I know so. Come on, speaking of, let’s get you back home.”
So they go back to the car. From the backseat, Sam sees Dean reach for Cas’s hand. In the darkness, the streetlights casting strange reflections through the windows, Sam feels oddly at peace. Dean is here in Palo Alto, and for the first time, that’s okay.
Sam leans his head against the cool glass of the window. “Does Dad know?”
There’s a long pause, long enough that Sam sits up and repeats the question.
“Yeah,” Dean says quietly, “he knows.”
“When did you–”
“About two years ago. We’d been hunting, um, hunting separately mostly, for a couple of years at that point, and–”
“Why?”
Dean meets his eyes in the rearview mirror, then looks away. “I don’t know. After you left, I got angry at him. Really angry. Took off for a couple of months, hunted on my own. We never really stayed together after that.”
Sam thinks about that for a bit. All this time, he’d been making assumptions about the kind of person his brother was.
“Anyway, so, two years ago, I, um. I introduced him to Cas.”
“How’d he take it?”
Cas laughs. It’s unexpected, because he’s been so quiet throughout all of this.
“Not well, then?” Sam tries to catch Dean’s eye in the mirror, but Dean keeps his eyes on the road.
“That’s an understatement,” Cas says.
“He got angry,” Dean says. “Furious. We got into this huge blowout fight, worse than the one you had before you left. He. Um. He punched me a couple of times. And then he stormed out.”
Sam thinks about the way Dean’s hands shook, trying to light the cigarette. He wonders what “a couple of times” means, really.
“And?”
“And what?”
“Haven’t you guys talked since?”
There’s a long, long silence. Cas says, quietly, “Dean. Why don’t you drop me off at the motel? You two need to talk.”
Sam doesn’t like the sound of that. There’s this funny pressure on his chest, like he can’t breathe right anymore.
He waits while Dean drives to the motel, waits while Dean parks under the streetlamps.
“I’ll see you later?” Dean asks. Sam feels a strange need to avert his eyes. There is something so intimate about the way Dean talks to Cas, something so tender. He feels like he’s intruding on his own brother’s life.
Dean glances back at Sam, and then kisses Cas, quick and self-conscious. Cas gets out of the car, and Dean watches him until he opens the motel room door.
“You should come up to shotgun,” Dean says. “There’s something else I should tell you.”
Sam takes Cas’s seat, and then Dean starts the car and pulls back onto the open road.
Sam says, “Dean. Where’s Dad?”
Dean swallows. He glances out the window. “It’s a long story.”
“Is he dead? Oh my God, Dean, you should have called me, I’m your brother, I–”
“He’s not dead.” Dean sucks in a shaky breath. “Okay, look. After the fight, Dad went on a hunting trip in Jericho, California. And he just. He disappeared. Cas and I went looking, we tried everything. Then things started escalating. More demons, more omens.”
“The thing that killed Mom?”
“The demon.” Dean’s hands clench on the wheel. “The next time I saw Dad, he was being worn like a prom dress.”
“You mean–”
“Yeah. He’s gone, Sammy. Long gone. For about a year now.”
“And the demon?”
“We’re tracking him. We’re getting closer, I swear. I keep thinking– Christ, I keep thinking maybe we can save him. Dad. He treated me like shit and it’s all I can think about. I can’t lose him too, not to this demon.”
Sam is going to be sick. He imagines it, his father choking on the smoke of that monster. Oh, God.
“I didn’t want to tell you,” Dean says. “I didn’t want to drag you back in. You’ve got something good here, Sam. Me and Dad and all the monsters, we’re dirt. You deserve better.”
“You should have called me when Dad first went missing.”
Dean shakes his head. “Nah, I had Cas for backup. It’s not like I went through this alone.”
In spite of everything Dean’s just told him, something about that catches Sam the wrong way.
“He’s been good to you, huh.”
“Yeah, he has.” Dean pulls onto the highway, wide and empty at this time of night. Sam doesn’t know where they’re going, but driving has always calmed Dean down.
“You love him?”
Dean glances at Sam. “’Course I do. With everything I’ve got.” He pauses. “God knows why he sticks around. I mean, the last two years have dragged us both through the mud. He’s only here because I need him to be. I don’t know why he didn’t give it up ages ago.”
“Yeah, you do. You know why.”
Dean wipes a hand over his face. “Yeah. Maybe.”
The radio murmurs static. Sam thinks about the wedding, five weeks from now. “I want to help,” he says. “Once I tell Jess, I’m going to help you and Cas and Bobby save Dad.”
“Sam–”
“No, Dean, it’s my decision. I’ve had six years to straighten out my priorities.”
Dean sighs. “This is why I couldn’t bring myself to call. You weren’t meant for this, Sam.”
“And you were?”
“That’s not the– look. You’re going to want to start a family with Jess. I’m not having you risk your life if it means risking that too.”
“I already have a family, Dean. I’m going to help, okay?”
A long silence, one that sounds like surrender. Dean nods. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll talk to Cas.”
“And, um. If things go okay with Jess– that is, if she doesn’t run away screaming, maybe you can meet her. For real. As my brother.”
“You want us to stay in town a few more days?”
Sam looks at his brother. “Yeah, I do. Maybe I can get to know Cas, too. For real, now that I know he’s… Yeah.”
“Okay,” Dean says. “Okay.”
Dean drives him to his apartment. Sam thinks about leaning across the seat to hug his brother, but he doesn’t.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Sam says, “but I’m really glad you got busted for that grave desecration.”
Dean grins. “Me too, Sammy.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow." He stands on the steps of the apartment building until Dean drives away. Then he goes inside, kicks off his shoes, and crawls into bed beside Jess.
“Mmm, hey,” Jess says. She rolls over, burying her face in Sam’s shirt. He puts his arms around her. “You good?” she asks.
“Yeah,” he says, “I’m good.”
.