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THURSDAY
Dean settled into the driver’s seat, tired. Exhausted.
He turned the ignition. He couldn’t make his feet touch the pedal. His eyes were blankly trained on the tape sticking out of the stereo. He pushed it in.
Gentle guitar riffs washed over him until drums joined them.
He leaned back in the seat and let his eyes close.
I looked out this morning, and the sun was gone
Turned on some music to start my day
I lost myself in a familiar song
I closed my eyes and I slipped away…
SUNDAY (4 DAYS AGO)
“No way.”
“Dean—”
“No!”
“Dean, just listen to him.”
“Hell no!”
“Why—”
“Because it’s a stupid idea, that’s why!”
Dean wrenched open the fridge, grabbed a bottle, chucked the lid across the room and drank. Sam inhaled deeply, trying to find some sort of peace. Castiel was still sitting at the table, glancing between his hands in his lap and the back of Dean’s head.
“I mean, seriously…” he finally turned around and looked Cas in the eye. “How could you do that? How could you leave us now? We are family.”
“We are. And as you learned with your mother, sometimes even family needs to be separated.”
“That’s a load of crap, y’know that? And Mom – maybe she had some good reason to start but it ended bloody, and of all people you know that. Now we’ve got those Brits to deal with and I don’t even…whatever.”
Sam gestured between his brother and Cas.
“Dean, Cas hasn’t been to Heaven in, I dunno, ages.”
“His home is here.”
“I’m not saying it isn’t. I’m just saying that maybe, just maybe, Cas is entitled to go back to his first home, especially if it means healing with his first family.”
Dean pursed his lips. Both Sam and Cas thought he might crush the beer bottle with his grip.
He stared at the floor for a bit, fisting his free hand in his pocket and digging his nails into the skin of his palm. He wanted to throw the bottle (and he could see in their eyes that they were worried he might). He wanted to punch them both. He wanted it to be five minutes ago before this stupid conversation even started.
“When?”
Sam’s eyebrows shot up and he looked at the angel. Cas leaned on the table.
“Thursday.”
Dean scrunched up his face.
“Why Thursday?”
“There are…before I can go back, there are certain things I need to accomplish here.”
“What things? Some fake trial like Metatron made you pull?”
“I need to purify myself to reenter Heaven so my brothers and sisters will see me as an angel again. Instead of the failure that I’ve been.”
“Well, they’re certainly ones to judge—”
“Dean.”
He finally looked up, biting his lip – and his tongue. He searched blue eyes for answers, holding back every hurt and bitter thing he wanted to say. He just nodded instead.
“All right. So how does an angel purify? Take a bath? We douse you in holy water?”
Cas gave Dean a gentle eye roll.
“No. It’s similar to your concept of Confession. Only angels don’t just confess sins – we do have to do that in this process, but we also need to right some wrongs, face emotions if we have succumbed to them…it’s a process. Joshua explained it to me when I last visited Heaven. It takes a few days, especially without wings.”
“So…what then? You do the angelic forgive-me-father and poof, you’re pure?”
“Not quite, but it’s a start.”
Sam ran a hand through his hair.
“So what do you need from us, Cas? What can we do to help?”
Cas stood.
“Nothing else at the moment. This was one of the first tasks in the process.”
“This?”
“Confessing my departure to the humans in my charge. Years ago, I never would have thought such a thing could be necessary, or even painful. But now…”
His eyes left Sam and settled on Dean.
“Now I see why this has always been assumed to be the start of the journey.”
Dean looked away and downed the rest of his beer. He didn’t listen much as Sam asked Cas more about angelic confessions and how they could help.
MONDAY (3 DAYS AGO)
Dean finished washing the Impala for the third time that morning. Sam opened the door to the garage, hoping to have some semblance of a normal conversation, but just from the jerkiness of Dean’s motions, the lack of care he showed while wiping the hood…it was definitely not a good time.
Sam opened his laptop in the War Room, not sure if he even wanted to find a case. Maybe it would distract Dean, or maybe—
He heard the door to the Bunker shut. Sam looked up at the sound of steps coming down to meet him.
“Mom?”
“Hey, Sam.”
“What are you doing here? I mean, you’re always welcome, but I just—”
“Have you seen Castiel?”
Sam slowly stood up.
“Yesterday. Why?”
“He came by my hotel room this morning.”
Sam waited. Mary looked uncertain.
“Mom, are you okay? Was…Cas okay?”
She sucked in her lip as she considered her youngest son.
“You boys have known Castiel a long time, right?”
“Yeah. Ever since he pulled Dean out of Hell – and technically me, too, but yeah. It’s been a while. Why are you—”
“And he’s family, right? You consider him your family?”
Sam nodded with a quick smile.
“Definitely. Cas…we’ve all had our moments, but I’d do anything for him. He’s another brother to me.”
“And to Dean?”
Sam opened his mouth to speak and saw Mary’s one eyebrow arch slightly. He closed his mouth to judge her expression—
“Well, look who it is!”
Dean wandered in from the garage, a raggedy towel tossed over his shoulder and a beer in each fist. He gave Mary a little half-smile and held one of the beers out to her.
“What brings you by? Those royal asshats give you another case?”
Mary glanced at the beer in her hand, at Sam’s confused-but-masked face, and at her oldest son.
“No, I just wanted to see you boys.”
“Well, that’s more like it!” Dean clinked his bottle against Mary’s. “Welcome home. Y’know, you’ve always got a room here when you get tired of motel living.”
She smiled up at him.
“I know. Thank you, Dean.”
Dean nodded in response, trying to pretend that her answer had been satisfying in any way.
It was awkward. Sam and Mary eyed one another, Dean tried to keep a feigned smiled on his face, and everyone was silent.
“So what have you killed lately, huh?”
Dean sat down at the table and took a long swig. Sam and Mary followed his cue and took their own seats, Mary answering his question and telling stories of wiping out the vamps that got away back at the British Men of Letters headquarters (plus about a dozen other monsters and the “toys” she used to hunt them), and Sam watching his mother talk and his brother listen and wondering if being good liars was a genetic trait.
THURSDAY
Sam opened the passenger door and Dean startled slightly. Boston still played over the deck.
It’s more than a feeling
When I heard that old song they used to play
Dean turned off the stereo as Sam slid inside and shut his door. They half glanced at one another, neither saying a word.
Finally they spoke at the same time:
“Are you okay?”
“Alright, let’s go.”
This time, they made eye contact, but the only recognition given to the other’s statement was Dean hesitating before turning the music back on and shifting the gear into Drive.
I begin dreaming
'til I see Marianne walk away
Only the music and the tires on the road could be heard until Dean finally answered his brother:
“No.”
TUESDAY (2 DAYS AGO)
“What do you want?”
“Nice to hear your voice, too, darling.”
Dean rolled his eyes as he tucked the phone between his cheek and shoulder and went back to frying bacon. Crowley paced down the halls of his so-called palace.
“Crowley, you got something on Rosemary’s baby or what?”
“No, you idiot. What’s wrong with Feathers?”
“Excuse me?”
“Castiel. He comes in here and demands an audience. Here I thought he just wanted to rekindle our budding bromance and make a movie of our adventures together—”
“Crowley…”
“—but he apologized to me.”
Dean nearly dropped the bacon.
“He what?”
“He apologized for almost killing me, back when Mother made him her attack dog. Of course, he didn’t say so until he apologized for not killing me like his other fine feathered friends have wanted him to do on numerous occasions. But after going through the list of times he could have ended me – and should have, he pointed out far more frequently than necessary – he actually said that he was…”
Crowley hesitated. Dean wasn’t sure he was even hearing any of this.
“…he was truly sorry that he nearly killed me when he was under that spell. That despite hating me with every angelic fiber of his being, he is grateful for all of the times I’ve helped you lot with all the nonsense you release on the world.”
The bacon was burning. Crowley finished his drink and refilled his glass.
“That bloody angel…not only did he apologize, but he thanked me. He. Thanked. Me.”
“What—”
“So what happened in that lovely mancave of yours to make him blow a gasket? Has he gone mad again? Is he following bees?”
“No, he…he didn’t tell you?”
Crowley nestled into his throne.
“What, about his return to Heaven? Yes, of course. But he wouldn’t tell me what talking to me had to do with that.”
“It’s some sort of…cleansing thing. Confessing sins, making amends, and whatever weird 12-step program angels need to do if they want to be welcomed back.”
“Good God, apologizing to the King of Hell? That’s on the list?”
“Look, I have no idea. All I know is he told us that this was happening and then he was gone. I haven’t seen him since.”
“Has he gone back already?”
“Not ‘til Thursday.”
Crowley raised an eyebrow.
“Never really was his day.”
Dean threw the charred bacon in the trash and pulled out fresh slices to start over.
“Is that all, Crowley?”
The King sighed.
“I suppose so.” He sipped his drink. “Unless you wanted to rekindle our Summer of Love—”
“I’m hanging up now.”
THURSDAY
Sam eyed him for a moment before Dean shook his head and repeated at nearly a whisper, “No.”
Neither one really knew what to say at that moment. Trees blew past as they drove away, and Boston seemed to do the thinking and talking for them:
So many people have come and gone
Their faces fade as the years go by
Yet I still recall as I wander on
As clear as the sun in the summer sky
“It’s a good thing. What you’re doing, you know.”
Dean snorted and frowned.
“What I’m doing?”
“Letting him go. Letting Cas do what he has to.”
“He doesn’t have to do anything. This is his choice.”
“I know, Dean. I’m just saying—”
“I still don’t get how he can do this, is all I’m saying.”
Sam frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“Come on, Sammy. I mean…”
Dean gestured in frustration while still trying to hang onto the wheel.
“I mean leaving…us. I get he wants to check out Heaven or whatever, reconnect with the angels and maybe they can help with Baby Satan, but this? This…absolution crap? Becoming a ‘real angel’ again? This isn’t him, man. This is just those flying asshats twisting him around again. And he fell for it.”
“Dean, it’s not our place—”
“The hell it’s not my place!”
Sam shut his mouth. Dean grimaced while tightening his grip on the wheel.
TUESDAY (2 DAYS AGO)
“Apparently, Cas did his forgive-me-father to Crowley.”
Sam stopped in the kitchen doorway.
“Crowley?”
“Crowley.”
Sam rubbed his eyes and pushed his hair back.
“Well, that’s one way to start the day. Maybe I don’t need coffee after all.”
Dean put the properly cooked bacon on a plate with a mountain of eggs and headed for the table.
“Sure y’do. And preferably Irish.”
Sam half-laughed until he saw Dean pull his flask out of his pocket and pour into his own coffee mug.
“I don’t know why I thought you were kidding.”
“Does this seem like a joking matter? Eat your cholesterol.”
He watched Dean scoop half the eggs and bacon onto a plate for himself and stuff his face. Sam filled a mug, sat down, and considered the open flask sitting by Dean.
“All right, fine.”
He grabbed the flask and poured the remaining shot into his coffee, then pulled the eggs and bacon toward him. Dean raised his eyebrows.
“I didn’t think you’d actually listen to me.”
Sam shrugged at the functioning alcoholic and took a bite.
“So…what, did Crowley call you or something?”
Dean put down his fork for once.
“Yeah, just got off the phone with him. Said Cas apologized for almost killing him when Rowena – you know – and then thanked him for saving our asses a few times.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s…weird.”
“Yeah, I don’t like this at all.”
Dean fiddled with his fork for a moment. Sam was almost afraid to ask…
“Have you tried calling him?”
“No.”
Dean stopped fiddling and took a long drag from his coffee, quietly finishing the thought directly into the mug.
“…he didn’t answer my texts so I thought, why bother? He’s made up his mind on whatever this is.”
Sam stared at the worried creases in Dean’s forehead. His brother stared at the untouched bacon.
Dean finished off his coffee and grabbed his empty flask. He pushed his partially-eaten breakfast toward Sam.
“Here, you giant, you can finish this.”
And he was gone down the hall.
WEDNESDAY (1 DAY AGO)
Dean had washed every car and bike in the garage several times over the last couple days. He had polished every knife and sword and anything stabby that the Men of Letters had left on display. Every gun had been stripped and cleaned and inspected, every bullet counted, every holster examined for any wear and tear. On Wednesday, he was trying to reorganize the books without pissing off Sam. If Dewey had his Decimal System, then Dean could make up his own as well. Most of the books were laying on the floor or on tables while he looked over the shelves like an interior decorator.
He heard Sam’s enormous moose feet clomp into the room.
“Dude!”
“Shut up, Sammy, I’m reorganizing here.”
“Dean, I—”
He waved him off as he stared intensely at the shelves.
“It’s fine, I know what I’m doing. I got this, okay?”
Sam laid his hand on Dean’s shoulder.
“No, look…Cas is here.”
Dean held his breath for a moment. He gave a tiny nod.
“Well, that’s nice for once.”
“Dean. He wants to talk to you.”
Dean shrugged.
“All right, whatever. He can come tell me that, doesn’t need you to be his messenger.”
Sam moved so that he could force Dean to make eye contact.
“He’s afraid.”
Dean’s stomach dropped.
“Of what?”
“Talking to you.”
“What?”
Dean bounced from offended to worried to flat-out confused.
“Wait, I don’t get it – why are you telling me this?”
“Look…Cas just did his…thing with me.”
Dean’s eyebrows shot up.
“What, his forgive-me-for-what-I-have-done spiel?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
Sam sighed.
“It was…kind of weird. He apologized for a lot of things – like, not having my soul, even though that wasn’t his fault, but still. And breaking the wall in my head, torturing Gadreel through me, not answering prayers sometimes…a bunch of stuff I haven’t thought about in forever.”
Then the edges of his lips danced into a slight smile.
“But then he thanked me for a million things, like helping him over the years, having faith in him. Teaching him our hunting tricks—”
“Yeah, well, he still has a lot to learn.”
“I know, right? But yeah…it was strange…but weirdly nice? I dunno.”
Sam sighed in reflection over his conversation with Cas, then clapped Dean on the shoulder.
“Anyway. Your turn now.”
And Dean stood alone.
THURSDAY
Even with his death grip on the wheel, Dean’s hands were twitching with anxiety.
“So you’re mad about him leaving you.”
“I’m mad about him leaving us, Sammy. We need all the help we can get right now and he’s taking off again!”
“But if he can help from the Heaven side—”
“He’s still not here. With us. Where he belongs.”
“You’re sounding like Dad.”
That was the worst and best thing he could have said. Dean was spitting.
“To hell with Dad! But you know what? He was right about some things. Families stay together. Mom died and Dad didn’t abandon us until you left for Stanford. Then it was me and him, and he left me without any explanation, and I came and got you, and then you wanted to leave me all over again until Jess died, and even after we were going, you still wanted to leave me and after the apocalypse, you were gone and Cas fucking left me, and then with the Leviathans he left me again and again with Naomi and Metatron and Lucifer and Cas has been leaving me behind every goddamn step of the way and we finally get him back after all the Lucifer shit and Ramiel and how the fuck can he leave me again?”
Dean finally inhaled, every fiber of his being desperately trying not to drive off the road and straight into a tree.
Then, more to himself than anything:
“It’s like he doesn’t care anymore.”
He shook his head.
“It’s like he doesn’t care about me.”
WEDNESDAY (1 DAY AGO)
Sam left Dean and fished his phone out of his pocket. He had missed a text from Mary—
“Hey, Sam.”
She was already in the kitchen, unloading some takeout onto the counter.
“Oh hi! Sorry Mom, I didn’t see your text ‘til a second ago.”
“Don’t worry about it. Sometimes I’m still not sure if I’m using these things right.”
She waved her phone in the air before dropping it next to a boxed pie. Sam watched his mother open the box and grab a knife.
“Mom…can I ask you something?”
“Sure, honey. Want some pie?”
Sam smiled. “No, I’m good, thanks.”
He sat at the table.
“What were you going to ask me about Cas the other day?”
She waved him off and cut herself a slice.
“It’s nothing, it’s fine.”
She smiled as she sat down with her plate, immediately digging in like Dean.
“Come on. You were at least gonna tell me what happened in the hotel before Dean walked in.”
Her chewing slowed and her eyes stayed on the pie, bleeding out filling.
“Mom? Please?”
Mary sighed at her little boy.
“I was waiting to hear from Ketch about the next case…”
MONDAY
Mary sat on the bed, flipping through John’s journal again. Her fingers ran over the pages, his beautiful handwriting and drawings that detailed horrifying things, the medals and photographs tucked inside. She wished she could ask him about everything he’d seen and apologize for bringing this on him—
A calm knock at the door brought her back to the present. Ketch was polite, but not so polite as to knock so gently before entering with his own key. She put down the journal, picked up a gun, and went to open the door.
“Hello, Mary.”
“Castiel, hi! What are you doing here?”
“Can we talk?”
“Sure, sure, come in.”
She ushered him inside. Cas looked around at the cases of weaponry as Mary laid her gun back down on the table.
“Working with the British Men of Letters seems to suit you.”
“How do you mean?”
“You just seem very comfortable in here. So does your husband’s journal.”
He gestured at the book. Mary gave him a half smile.
“I still can’t believe he was supposed to be one of these guys.”
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned from your sons, it’s that life is full of surprises.”
Her half smile turned into a full one.
“That’s true. So…what did you want to talk about?”
Cas stood awkwardly for a moment, as if trying to figure out how to start. He finally gestured to the sofa and they sat down. Mary waited for him to speak, but saw he needed prodding:
“Castiel, what is it?”
Cas took a deep breath – she wondered if angels really needed to do that – and he finally met her gaze.
“I’m returning to Heaven soon.”
“Oh.”
“And there are some things I need to do before I go.”
“You can’t just…go there?”
“Sort of, but not in the way my brothers and sisters need me to. I haven’t been welcome in Heaven for years, and during my last trip there, I learned that I need to purify myself before I can be considered a true angel again in the eyes of my f—my angelic family.”
Mary frowned.
“I don’t understand.”
“Mary…” Cas folded his hands in a prayer-like manner. “I am sorry for every time I failed your sons.”
“What?”
“Please, just let me finish.”
Mary watched as Cas closed his eyes for a moment before starting again.
“I am sorry for every time I ever failed your sons. I am sorry for lying to them, for not helping them stop the apocalypse even sooner. I am sorry for threatening and manipulating them on numerous occasions…for raising Sam without his soul, though I didn’t know that was going to happen…for abandoning them when they needed me, for failing to watch over them as you used to tell Dean that we angels do.”
Mary blinked back a few stunned tears.
“I am sorry I didn’t listen to them when they told me things that I needed to hear. I am sorry for failing to protect your boys from tragedy—”
“That’s not your job—”
“And I am so sorry for not being able to save you and your husband from the lives you both led.”
A single tear rolled down her cheek.
“Cas…”
“But in spite of everything that I am sorry for, I am so grateful to you.”
Cas took Mary’s hand in his. She was surprised at how comfortable his touch was.
“Thank you for being their mother. Thank you for bringing them into the world. You have inspired them in more ways than you will ever know, and through them you have inspired me.”
Mary put her free hand over his, watching his face soften with memories.
“Through them, you have shown me how stubborn determination can be a great burden as well as a great strength. That even if fate has dealt you a terrible hand, even if you’re cursed, even when you’re doomed…you can still choose free will and try to break out of it.”
He had a funny way of complimenting while innocently bringing up painful memories, but it was the spirit behind his speech that kept Mary holding onto every word.
“I have learned the importance of family, wherever you find it. I’ve learned never to give up, and to keep fighting for what you believe is right, even if no one else understands.”
Another tear rushed down her face and she brushed it away.
“Thank you for giving your sons your strength. Thank you for giving Sam your optimism and faith in the face of danger – it’s something that has saved me many times.”
Cas squeezed her hands in his.
“Thank you for giving Dean your courage, and your warmth, things I know now I could never do without. And even though it has gotten us in trouble more than once, thank you for giving him your unworldly stubbornness – it has been a help on more occasions than I can count.”
He smiled softly, more to himself than to her.
“And thank you for showing him the beauty in imperfection, the light in darkness. I know he has held himself to the standard of your memory and example. When I raised Dean from Hell, despite all the damage that had been done to him, he was still one of the brightest souls I have ever seen. He is filled with passion and compassion, light and laughter. He—his jokes…I didn’t truly know laughter until I met your son. Before Dean, I didn’t know freedom. I didn’t know devotion. I didn’t know love—”
He shut his mouth. Mary studied his face for the briefest of moments until he met her gaze again.
“Thank you for loving them and being their mother. I am eternally grateful.”
She waited. Was there more to his cut off sentence? His silence and smile seemed fixed, finished. Mary returned the look and hugged him.
“You’re welcome, Castiel. And thank you for watching over them.”
WEDNESDAY
Sam tapped a finger against the tabletop.
“So…what exactly are you asking me?”
“When Castiel started to say that he didn’t know love…”
She didn’t know how she was supposed to finish that question. Instead, she just locked eyes with Sam, hoping to communicate whatever words she couldn’t construct. Sam inhaled and bit his lip.
“…and that he didn’t know love before…before Dean…”
“Right.”
The silence was deafening in the worst way until Mary reached out across the table and took Sam’s hand.
“I’m not mad. I know times have changed, and I will always love you boys no matter what, but I just didn’t know…I wasn’t sure…”
“What he meant by that.”
“Exactly.”
Sam covered his eyes for a moment with his free hand.
“I’m not…I know that nothing has happened between them in that sense, but…I’ve always suspected something. It’s just the way—”
“The way they look at each other?”
Sam snorted out a breathy laugh.
“I mean, if you can see it—”
Mary smiled.
“It’s pretty obvious. But Dean never said anything and neither did Castiel until the other day and then I just didn’t know. But when I see them…”
She fiddled with the ring hanging on her necklace.
“That’s how your dad used to look at me. That’s how I looked at him.”
Her eyes shone with tears and a smile.
“I’m guessing that’s how I look when I think and talk about him, too.”
Sam nodded and gave her hand a squeeze. After a moment, she wiped her eyes and picked up her fork again.
“Thanks, Sam.”
“Thank you, Mom.”
---
Dean walked hesitantly down the halls. Why hadn’t Cas just come and gotten him to talk? Why was he so scared? It was freaking out Dean enough as it was, and it’s not like Dean was the one leaving everyone behind. He didn’t do that to family, but apparently Cas did.
He tried to shake the thoughts from his mind. This was Cas. Cas deserved understanding, even when it felt like he didn’t. Cas didn’t deserve to be afraid of anything, especially not Dean. Guilt wracked him mixed with every stage of grief as he checked inside open rooms looking for his angel. He wasn’t in any office, nor was he in Sam’s room, which meant he must be in—
“Hello, Dean.”
Cas stood, fidgety and anxious, in the middle of Dean’s room. The hunter kept a straight face as he slowly entered.
“Hey, Cas. What’s up?”
“I was hoping we could talk.”
Dean shrugged and folded his arms, feet firmly planted.
“Sure, shoot.”
Cas glanced around with restrained exasperation.
“I mean…could we sit? This isn’t, uh…this isn’t helpful, you standing there, looking like that.”
“Like what.”
Cas tipped his head and raised his eyebrows in that way he always did when Dean was acting like a child. Dean rolled his eyes and stepped forward. Cas gestured to the bed. Dean paused and sat down, looking up at the angel. Just when he thought Cas would take a seat beside him, he actually pulled up a chair and sat across from him instead.
Cas bowed his head, elbows resting on his knees, and stared at his clasped hands. Was he praying? Dean frowned at his hunched, uncertain shoulders. No powerful angel should sit like that.
“Dean…I …”
No other words came. Dean spewed in frustration:
“Cas, why the hell are you scared of me?”
Cas looked up.
“I mean, it’s me. All right? What’s the big deal?”
“Well, for one thing, your explosive reactions to unpleasant news.”
“What, and that’s somehow breaking news to you? Come on, man, you know I hate change.”
“…I do.”
“So spill already. What do you want to talk about? Is this how it went down with Sam?”
“No, Sam was…easier.”
“Well I’m sorry I make your life so difficult!”
“No, Dean, that’s not…” Cas huffed and covered his face, running his hands through his hair, fluffing it accidentally. Dean suddenly remembered how he had looked when he first walked through those barn doors years before, lights exploding, thunder crashing, gunpowder filling the air.
“That’s not what I’m saying at all.”
Dean tried to be less pissy.
“Then what is it you want to say?”
Cas sighed and leaned forward again.
“I’m trying to say I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?”
“For everything.”
“The hell do you have to be sorry for? Besides, you know…” Dean gestured at him. “This thing you’re doing.”
“Well for one, this thing, as you so put it. It’s something that I need to do for me. I thought you would understand better, but I was wrong. And for that, for needing to leave and hurting your feelings, I am sorry.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Cas closed his eyes. Dean knew he shouldn’t be such a dick but his reactions were so instinctual.
“Dean, I am sorry for every time I have failed you, including right now.”
“Cas, that’s not—”
He held up a hand and Dean was silent.
“I am sorry for not always being honest with you. I am sorry for the ways that I have betrayed you or misguided you since we met. I am sorry for taking so long to see your side of things when it came to the apocalypse—”
“But then you helped us—”
“Dean.”
He shut up.
“I am sorry for going behind your back about Crowley and Purgatory. That was stupid of me and I should have sought your help, but I didn’t. I was ready to, I was standing in your yard, watching you work when Crowley approached me, and still…I didn’t tell him to shove it.”
Dean’s shoulders sank a little. He had pushed the Purgatory and Leviathan thing so far into the back of his mind, it was odd to have them brought up again.
“I am sorry for bringing in the Leviathan, for killing so many people, for disappointing you and making you lose faith and hope. I am sorry for losing your friendship. I am sorry for raising Sam without his soul – I should have known, I really should have, and I just didn’t want to see it. I am sorry for breaking the wall in his mind. I am sorry for not being there when you lost Bobby. I am sorry for running away from you in Purgatory, but I wanted to keep you safe.”
Dean reminded himself to breathe. Cas was on a roll, but he wasn’t looking at Dean. His eyes were trained on his hands and the floor and other places in the room other than the man on the bed.
“I am sorry I pulled away when you escaped. I know I told you later that I didn’t want to be saved, but I should have let you save me. If you had pulled me out, I wouldn’t have been captured by Naomi. At least I think not, it’s rather hard to tell on something like that…but still. I caused you agony, and that is something that I can barely fathom forgiving myself for.”
He wiped his face with his hands. Had there been tears? Dean couldn’t see.
“I am sorry for making the angels fall. I am sorry I trusted Metatron instead of you. I am sorry for raising an army of angels without telling you. I am sorry I couldn’t help with the Mark of Cain sooner. I am sorry that Sam and I kept our plans to help you a secret. I am not sorry that we did manage to help you, even though it lead to more death and destruction…but I am sorry for Charlie. Her death was on me, not Sam. I should have been there, I should have…I am sorry I wasn’t there to save Kevin either, though I’m not sure if I would have been able to. I’m sorry for beating you under Rowena’s spell – and when Naomi had control of me. I am sorry for every single time I have hit you, hurt you, done anything to cause you bodily or emotional pain. I am sorry for not answering your prayers. I am sorry for letting you feel lost and lonely…”
“Cas, I—”
Just above a whisper—
“Dean, please, let me do this.”
Dean dug his nails into his palms, bit his lip, anything physically painful to stop the ache inside.
“I am sorry I let Lucifer in. I know you said it was our only shot and that it was okay, but it wasn’t. Everything we’re dealing with right now is because of me. I’m just relieved I was able to hold him back enough to stop him from killing you and Sam. I am sorry for making you worry. I am sorry for abandoning you when you needed me, and I am sorry to leave you again.”
Cas leaned his forehead against his hands. Dean waited, unable to see his face. Then Cas sat up and finally looked him in the eye.
“But I am thankful for you.”
Dean’s eyebrows shot up. Oh right, Sam said Cas thanked him for things.
“I am grateful that I was the one who pulled you out of Hell. To be the one to save the Righteous Man, to take hold of your broken, beaten soul and repair it, to resurrect you from the dead…I will always be thankful that it was me. I thank you for showing me what it is to be human long before I ever became one. You showed me how to live with purpose. You showed me that free will is one of the greatest gifts in the world. You have saved me more times that you know, both literal – like killing my attackers – to the less obvious…like when I was near suicidal and your friendship and support kept me grounded, driven, hopeful.”
Dean didn’t feel worthy of any of this.
“Thank you for standing by me even when I have made awful decisions. Thank you for listening to me, even if you’re being a stubborn ass. Thank you for being patient while I learned about the human need for ‘personal space.’”
Dean smiled at that one.
"Thank you for making me feel at home on Earth and in this Bunker. Thank you for making me a part of your family.”
Cas reached out and took Dean’s hand.
“Thank you for inspiring me in more ways than I can list. Thank you for making me laugh. Thank you for never giving up on me. Thank you for explaining human things to me when I didn’t understand. Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for praying to me. Thank you…”
He sighed. Should Dean have done something with his hand?
“Thank you for being you, Dean Winchester. Thank you for being a light when all I saw was darkness. I meant what I said in that barn…”
Dean’s breath hitched.
“…knowing you truly has been the greatest – the absolute most wonderful part of my long, long life.”
“Cas, we’re just a blip in it.”
“But you’re not. All humans are works of art, but you…you are indescribable.”
Cas placed his other hand on top of their locked ones. Dean felt energy? grace? something wonderful, something agonizingly beautiful shoot through him.
“I am sorry for every way I have ever wronged you, Dean. But I thank you for every way that you have been the best friend…the greatest man I have ever known.”
Dean nodded, stunned. What was going on?
“Cas…I’ve long forgiven you for all that stuff you listed…we’re fine, we’re cool.”
“I still needed to apologize. I needed to confess my sins.”
Dean swallowed the lump in his throat. Cas’s hands were still holding onto his.
“Because you’re still leaving.”
Cas’s grip loosened.
“Yes.”
Dean nodded firmer, uncertainty pulsing through every inch of him. He slowly pulled his hand away and Cas let him go, but his hands were still in the same place, still open to the void Dean’s hand had left.
“Okay then.”
Dean stood, slightly wobbly from sitting for so long or head rush or…something. He didn’t know or care. Cas stood, still needing more lessons on personal space. He put his hand on Dean’s shoulder where he had left a handprint many years before.
“Dean, there’s one thing I need to ask you.”
Oh God, what could happen now?
“What’s that?”
"Could you…would you give me a ride tomorrow to Heaven’s door?”
Dean blinked rapidly.
“A ride. To Heaven’s door. That playground?”
Cas nodded. Dean wanted to laugh and scream at the same time.
“My car broke down on the way here, and it would be silly to steal one…”
“Yeah, sure, Cas. We’ll give you a ride.”
“Thank you, Dean.”
Dean nodded, waited to see if there was more, and when there was nothing but silence and intense blue eyes that seemed to be searching his own for something, he turned away and left Cas in his room.
He needed a ride to get away from them. What an asshole.
THURSDAY
Sam and Dean dropped Cas off at the playground where the door to Heaven was drawn in the sand. Sam hugged his friend tight, wishing him luck and thanking him for everything. Cas turned to Dean when the door swirled to life and Joshua stepped out into the sandbox, accompanied by Kelvin. Kelvin approached and put a hand on Cas’s shoulder.
“Ready, brother?”
“In a moment.”
He turned back to Dean.
“Thank you for everything. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
“Well, you still could’ve hotwired a car to get here.”
“You know what I mean.”
Dean shrugged, trying to keep calm.
“Sure. Right.”
He held out his hand. Cas’s face fell slightly at the sight of a single hand after Sam’s open arms, but he took it gratefully, trying not to pull Dean into a grateful hug.
With a bittersweet smile from Cas and a strained, forced one from Dean, they finally let go. Dean turned away quickly, patted Sam on the shoulder, and marched straight for the car. Cas nodded to Sam and turned toward his brother.
He heard soft measures of some classic rock song when Sam opened the door and climbed inside. After a moment, Dean hit the gas. Cas watched the Impala until it turned out of his sight. With a nod of thanks to Kelvin, he finally met Joshua’s gaze.
“Castiel.”
“Hello Joshua.”
“Have you completed your tasks?”
Cas nodded.
“I have.”
Joshua straightened his posture in a more official manner. His first questions came out as statements.
“You have informed the humans in your charge of your departure.”
“Yes.”
“You have sought forgiveness from those you have wronged.”
“Yes.”
“You have confessed your sins against Heaven and have prepared to face your brethren.”
“Yes.”
Joshua’s expression simultaneously narrowed and softened.
“You seek redemption and reacceptance amongst your family?”
“I do.”
“You recommit yourself fully to your born duty as Angel of the Lord, Angel of Heaven?”
“I commit myself fully.”
“And you release yourself from the emotions you had allowed yourself to feel on Earth?”
Cas opened his mouth but no sound came out for a second.
“…Yes.”
“Castiel…” Joshua chided like a kind but firm grandmother. Cas stood tall and lifted his chin.
“I release myself from the emotions I had felt on Earth.”
He felt the gardener’s eyes scan him steadily. Kelvin had stood at attention beside them this whole time, but he shifted under the weight of Joshua’s silence.
“Very well. And are you prepared for the final step?”
“I am.”
Joshua held up his hands and orbs of angelic light glowed from each. The orbs grew until they were one, and the pillar of light shone around and through Castiel. He held his arms out by his sides, hands open and eyes closed to feel the power. He felt the presence of Heaven, the warmth of home (his first home, he thought for a split second), the purest essence of his family (his first family, again), the glow of life and celestial—
It stopped.
Cas opened his eyes and looked himself over. Nothing seemed to have changed and the lack of pure grace surrounding him was so sudden that he wondered if he had missed something.
“No, Castiel.”
“I’m sorry?”
“No. I’m sorry.”
Cas shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
“You have not completed the purification.”
“But, but I…” Cas looked desperately at Kelvin, as if he might have an answer. Kelvin looked almost as surprised as he was, but he wasn’t questioning the gardener.
“…I did everything I had to do. Joshua, I have atoned and I recommit myself fully to Heaven, and—”
“In your head, Castiel.”
Cas cocked his head. Joshua reached out and gently laid a hand on Cas’s chest.
“But not in your heart.”
“No. No, I truly do—”
“And I believe you, Castiel, I do,” he said with that grandmother-like sympathy, “but I can see inside you, brother. I can feel what you are ignoring, what you are denying.”
Cas could have sworn Joshua’s hand was inside his chest at that moment, but it was still just barely touching him, despite the searing heat twisting around his heart.
“You believe that you want this, but you don’t. Not truly. I am sorry, but you cannot be welcomed back as a full and pure angel.”
Joshua moved his hand to Cas’s shoulder.
“Your heart is no longer with Heaven.”
Cas blinked back a confused tear.
“But…if not with Heaven, then where?”
“Only you can truly know that.”
Kelvin stepped closer to them.
“Joshua, Castiel. Do you hear…”
They paused to listen. A very distant rumble was growing louder.
---
“Of course he cares.”
Dean glanced away. Sam leaned forward to get a better look at his brother.
“Dean…you know Cas loves you, right?”
“Alright, yeah, I know.”
“No, I mean really.”
“Yes, Sam, I get it! I mean, he killed Billie for us, he told us in that…in that barn. I know he cares, all right already?”
“Dean, he loves you.”
“Okay fine, he…” Dean rolled his eyes at the word, “loves us.”
“You.”
“Me, whatever.”
Sam’s face was the perfect blend of outraged, utterly confused, and troubled.
“Dean…”
“Sam, I swear to God…”
Sam shook his head and closed his eyes before gathering the furious strength:
“Cas loves you like I loved Jessica! He loves you like Mom loved Dad! He loves you more than anyone can guess, and everyone’s guessing he loves you more than anything.”
Dean scrunched up his face.
“…everyone?”
“Yes, Dean! Everyone! Everyone can see it but you, and I don’t know if it’s because you’re dense or in denial or whatever macho performance thing you’re doing, but you’re my brother and I know you and I care about you and I just hate…I can’t…”
Dean was still staring straight at the road, and Sam didn’t know if he was about to get punched or laughed at. He sighed and looked away from his brother and out the window.
“It doesn’t matter. No, it does. It really does. But whatever. I tried…at the very least…I tried.”
The Impala sped along the asphalt, trees whipping by. Sam closed his eyes, hoping to be able to fall asleep before Dean would say something horrible—
“You’re not joking, are you.”
Dean’s eyes were watery. Sam would have been worried about the road if it hadn’t been so empty.
“No. I’m not.”
“So help me, Sam—”
“I would never joke about something like this.”
Dean pursed his lips in question.
“Ever.”
Dean nodded, turned his gaze back through the windshield. Sam held his breath, not knowing what—
With a deafening screech, Dean spun the Impala around into the other lane and slammed his foot on the gas, speeding them back to the playground.
“Dean, what the—”
“Shut up, Sam, shut the fuck up, because if this doesn’t work, I don’t – I’m not – just—”
Sam wasn’t sure if the incredulously joyous laugh bubbling inside him would be taken the wrong way, so all he did was smile at his big brother and hold on for dear life.
The angels heard the rumble of the Impala long before Dean nearly totaled her into a swing set. Kelvin stepped back and Joshua smiled softly. The open door to Heaven swirled beautifully behind them. Cas furrowed his brow as Dean came barreling out of the still running car, sprinting right at him. When he saw the tears in Dean’s eyes, he stepped forward, desperately holding back his own.
“You stupid son of a bitch!”
“Dean?”
“Get away from that door!”
“I don’t—”
Dean crashed into him with a push and a pull, with anger and relief, with a hug so tight he started to lose his footing. Dean kept them both upright as Cas managed to wrap his arms around him.
Dean’s voice shook in his ear.
“You’re not going anywhere, Cas. You hear me?”
“Dean, I—”
“Look at me.”
Dean pulled back slightly and released the hug to hold Cas’s face in his hands. He opened his mouth to speak and hesitated for just a second before spilling out:
“I love you, you idiot.”
A tear wetted the freckles on one cheek.
Castiel, Angel of the Lord who did not need to breathe, found himself struggling to catch his breath.
His fists tightened on Dean’s jacket, and Dean pulled Cas closer until their foreheads were touching.
“Did you hear me?”
Cas nodded, making their noses rub together.
“I love you, too.”
Dean stuttered out a tiny laugh, keeping a hand on Cas’s cheek and moving the other into his hair. He looked into bright blue eyes.
“So you’ll stay?”
Cas smiled.
“Of course. Yes.”
Neither noticed Sam turning off the Impala and stepping out to nod and salute toward Joshua and Kelvin. Neither noticed the door to Heaven closing behind the angels as they returned to a place they called home. Neither noticed Sam smiling as he stepped away for a short walk, sending a happy text to Mary. Neither would have noticed even if the world was ending around them.
All they noticed was each other, their hands, their lips, perfect irises of blue, and an amount of freckles that could never be fully counted.
Sundays might be reserved for Heaven, and Tuesdays might be Hell, but Thursdays were sacred in ways no one (and yet, everyone) understood.