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Alright, you want to be honest, if the situation was reversed, and I was dying, you’d do the same thing.
No Dean, I wouldn’t. Same circumstances, I wouldn’t. I’m heading to bed.
Sam’s right. Of course he is right. Even demons have commented on the horrifying co-dependency the brother’s share... Work mates shared. But Dean can tell you in very elaborate detail why his brother will never understand why Dean is like he is.
Watching Sam leave the room, he willed the stinging in his eyes away. He stood, pressing his palms into his eyes to force the tears he can feel prickling; he made his way in a daze to his room. At least Cas is home now. Safe, Dean would hope.
Prolonged hours or fleeting moments could have passed, but he found himself perched on the edge of his bed, a bottle (that he thought was full), in his trembling hands. The auburn liquid swirled in the base, twirling around and around and-
Smash.
He threw the bottle at the wall. It splintered into shards that spilled out across the side of his room. His head fell into his hands. In his peripheral view, he could see the picture of him and his Mom flitter to the ground and come to a rest on top of the graveyard of Jackie D’s.
Let’s make a mental list of all the things I’ve royally fucked up:
- People who get close to me... Die
Case notes: Dad, Bobby, Sammy, Ellen, Jo, Ash, Kevin.
1-0, Sammy. Sam.
- I started the apocalypse
Case notes: I only lasted 30 years; I tortured people and enjoyed it.
- I corrupted an angel, who gave everything up for me. He gave up angelic status because I asked him too.
Case notes: (we don’t speak of that night in the alley) The guy then proceeded to die 4 times, get tortured, search for God, went to Hell, became human, absorb stolen grace etc etc. And all the shit that happened to Cas, that’s on me.
- I’m a shocking friend
Case notes: Cas, the whole dying thing (see point 1).
And so my list goes on.
In fact, now that he thinks about it, he has fucked up so badly, and in the big way, recently, that it would be best if he was just out of the picture. He kind of wished he hadn’t thrown the Jack.
Sometime later, there was a hesitant tap on his door. He hadn’t moved since his mental listing started; he was more sure of the decision he was about to make now.
“Dean?” Cas’ voice rumbled through his head and dislodged all of his negative thoughts. He wondered if he’d ever have found the courage to tell the angel what he really means to him. After all, he may have given everything up and gone to Hell for Sammy, but he was willing to stay in Purgatory to find Cas. Makes you wonder, in some sense, which sacrifice spoke more.
“Yeah Cas?” At the sound of his voice, the angel made his way more comfortably into the room. His eyebrows creased upon seeing the broken glass and oozing liquid on the floor across from Dean.
“Are you alright?” Hesitantly, Cas came to sit beside Dean.
They slipped into that easy silence that had made a nest in their friendship.
“Cas,” the angel hummed in answer, “Can you... Can you still hear prayers?”
The frown was back but Cas had his head tilted in what Dean called the #3 angel head tilt. “I do not believe so, no.”
He didn’t know whether he was relieved to hear that or upset. Praying to Cas, it was like his off switch. Slowly closing his eyes, he took a deep steadying breath.
Dear Castiel, I pray you have your ears on. Breaker, breaker...?
“Anything coming through on your end Cas?” He said as he opened his eyes.
The angel didn’t say anything for a short time. “No Dean, nothing.”
“Huh, well then.”
“Dean, you would tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you? I believe that lying has taught us both enough lessons by now.”
“Promise ya Cas. I’m good.”
Cas left pretty swiftly after that; Dean smiled slightly.
He decided to tell Cas his plans. Well, pray to Cas about his plans. That way it was still therapeutic for him but he won’t have to worry about Cas trying to stop him.
Hey Castiel. I know you can’t hear me, but somehow I still find myself hoping you’re listening. I’m going to deal with Hell. The world won’t have to worry about demons or Dean Winchester no more. You and Sammy take care of Heaven. Go home Cas. In the top right hand draw of the desk in my room... There’s something I should have given you, Hell should have told you, sooner.
Falling back onto the soft memory foam, he for once longed for the stiff motel beds.
Don't get mad at me. Don't you do that. I had to. I had to look out for you. That's my job.
You've saved my life over and over. I mean, you sacrifice everything for me. Don't you think I'd do the same for you? You're my big brother. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you. And I don't care what it takes, I'm gonna get you out of this.
It’s easy for Sam to forget how long Dean’s sole purpose was him. Before he trundled off to Stanford, Dean had been looking after Sam since he was 4. That and hunting are the only things he’s ever been good at.
Tears stinging once more, he forced back the memory of when Sam looked up to him. Not that he blames Sam, what with the drinking, stupidity, one night stands... Dean’s a terrible role model. On that note, at least Cas will have someone responsible to teach him about humanity – Dean already fucked the poor guy over (unfortunately not literally).
He was reminded of the letter. The one he wrote to Cas when he was preparing to say yes to Michael. The letter that taunted him from the bottom of his desk now, as the declarations lay buried beneath doubt and dust.
There were some things he really needed to do. First, sort this shit with Crowley. Abaddon needs to die a bloody painful death and preferably by his hands. So that’s where Dean headed.
The fight was gory. Crowley, the slimy dirtbag, actually pulled through though. In one sharp twist of the blade, blood pulsating with vigour and the mark of Cain burning cold against his arm, Dean watched the life flicker from the Knight of Hell’s eyes.
It didn’t stop the pain in his ribs, or bones where they had fought. However, on the plus side, shoving Crowley back into the trunk was easier than he expected it to be. The lengths at which Dean could deceive people was almost scary.
Dean Winchester, been on every plane of existence, currently carrying the King of Hell as junk in his trunk. Seriously, what the fuck even is his life?!
It also didn’t stop bitch face #43 ‘Dean you’re an idiot’ and head tilt #6 ‘why didn’t you take me with you, assbutt?’ when he got home. Waving them off, he tried not to think about the genuine anguish in Cas’ bright blue eyes or Sam’s broody and pensive shoulders holding him back. He didn’t fall asleep that night praying that Cas would come into his room, wrap him up in those strong arms and tell him that it’s going to be ok. Pff, if the Djinn could make his dreams come true now. Not that he deserves it. Damn it.
He needs a gallon of fresh blood. And if that isn’t the weirdest thing he has needed since Sam’s addiction... Which is how his found himself in the middle of a fucking barn with a dead vamp bleeding out beside him. My life is just one big crazy-
“Deano. How long have you known?” The chirp of the voice was significantly less, Gabrielish.
“Dude, I’ve ganked angels and I’ve watched angels be ganked. You’re a trickster, I kinda fucking hoped you’d pull through.” Dean sighed.
“Wow there Deano, slow down. You might actually give the impression that you like me.” The short sandy haired man stared at him, looking him up and down. “No Samsquatch? You don’t look so hot Dean.”
A humourless laugh breezed past his lips, “Yeah I guess you could say I’ve been better. Anyway, I didn’t call you here for a social,” the angel scoffed, pulling a candy from thin air, “I need you to pass on a message. To someone’s Heaven.”
If he could have a snapshot of the Cas style head tilt with eyebrows to the hair line, he probably would have teased the annoying bastard for the rest of his life.
“What makes you think I can do that? Metatron and Cassie threw all of us out.”
The once tired weight in Dean’s body became coiled with rage, “He was trying to help! Don’t talk about Cas like he didn’t lose everything too.”
Gabriel eyed him again, “Say I can do this, what’s in it for me?”
“You’re all about lessons Gabe. I’ve finally learnt mine.”
The hazel gaze softened. “What do you want me to say?”
Next on the to-do list (when you’re preparing to jump into the depths of Hell you can call your damn list what you want) was to summon Death. Oh yeah, he wanted to make a deal.
Lucky for him, the Bunker is more jam packed with ingredients and wacky shit than Bobby’s ever was. God he missed Bobby. Packing up his duffel, he threw it over his shoulder. Wait, shit. This is the final goodbye.
He went over old motions in his room. Making sure the letter to Sam was laid out on top of his desk, along with the picture of his Mom and Dad’s journal. Dean rolled the pads of his fingertips across the cool metal and dry cord in his pocket. Lifting it out of his pocket, he squeezed the amulet hard into his palm.
He'd told Sam he was going for food. In reality, he drove as fast as he could, baby's engine purring at the chance to feel the burn of 80 mph. Not bothering to return to the desk, he picked the lock. The face glinted from the bottom of the bin. Heaving a sigh of relief, he picked it out of the bin; briefly he considered putting it back on. No. He couldn't let Sam see him that weak. See him breaking down after Cas himself had told him it was worthless. The cord was thin with wear, hanging heavy from his palm. It felt better, to know it was safe. 'Then it helps', Calypso's voice reminded him.
The amulet fell with a clank beside Sam's letter. Ultimately, he would like to die wearing it. But it was Sam's now... Or Cas'.
He stared down at the open draw that contained two letters to Cas, both wrapped with regret. Slowly, he flicked the lights and heaved the duffel higher on his shoulder. With a curt nod to the darkness, he shut the door.
Of course you should be afraid of the dark! You know what’s out there!
A wave of nostalgia swept over him. Humming Bon Jovi’s ‘Dead or Alive’, he carelessly made his way down the corridor. In the library, Sam was hunched over a book, his tense features illuminated by the low glow of a lamp.
“Hey Samm-,” He coughed to stop himself, “I’m headed out on a job. Good luck with the research, you’ll fix it. I know you will.”
His brother’s head snapped up. “Dean, I know things haven’t been the same but... I’m worried about you. You come back with all these mystery scars and covered in blood. I haven’t seen you sleep this little since you first got outta Hell or Purgatory.”
Dean flinched at the jab. “Nah, Sam. Come on dude. I just want to get this done, research don’t break me that easy, bitch.” Even though he knew Sam wouldn’t call back, he needed to say it one more time. To feel normal, one last time.
His search for Cas lead him to the kitchen. The angel was staring at the coffee machine with his ‘Is the angel gunna have to smite’ face and the endearment in that gesture made Dean chuckle from the doorway.
Cas turned to face him, “Dean, it is not funny. The coffee machine will not relinquish the goods.” He was still frowning, “You are going somewhere?”
Ignoring the blatantly obvious question, because he did not want to spend his last conversation with Cas arguing about why Cas couldn’t go with him, Dean dropped his bag to the floor and crossed the space between them, “Staring at it isn’t gunna make it work Cas. Didn’t you work at the garage place; you should have this down easy.”
Easily making the machine work, he poured the coffee and placed it beside the machine. Cas came forward to pick it up and Dean swiftly turned to pin him against the counter.
“Dean?” He never knew that the physical feeling of that rumbling voice could be so attractive. Grinning his false bravado, he licked his lips. Cas’ eyes tracked the movement. They shot up to meet Dean’s, asking unnecessarily for permission, he crushed their mouths together and before he knew it, Cas had him crowded against the wall. His tongue fought for dominance against Cas, as his hands settled tugging at Cas’ dark brown hair. When Cas groaned he knew it was time to stop. He was right. Like everything, kissing was fucking amazing with Cas.
“I’ve always wanted to do that,” he smiled sheepishly as Cas stepped back.
“I want more than the pizza man Dean.”
Dean full on cackled at that. Oh how badly he wanted to stay with Cas, to feel his fingers pinning him down and fucking him bare into his memory foam mattress. But Dean Winchester is poison. He should not, will not, hurt Cas anymore.
In another time, I would have manned up 5 years ago. I wish we had more time Cas.
The angel tilted his head; Dean couldn’t resist pressing their lips together once more. It was gentle and sweet and damn if he wasn’t turning into a girl about kissing Cas.
“Gotta run Cas, duty calls!” As rapid as he entered, he left. If he stayed any longer he might end up taking Cas up on that offer. The subtle hints he had been laying down all day, he hoped, would lessen the blow of his letters. It wasn’t like he was good with his words when he spoke, so writing it down was remarkably relieving for him.
Same barn, different summoning. Not easy, at all, but with one of the spells from an old lore book he had rooted around for and the larder of every ingredient known to man and beast, he had managed it.
“Dean Winchester,” the old man appeared, looking less than pleased, “Come to steal away another person ready to die?”
Dean felt old. Ancient in the presence of death itself. When was the last time he had even gotten a decent 8 hour sleep?
“You have restarted the trials?” Death gripped him from his thoughts. It was true, bathing in the blood of a Hellhound isn’t exactly refreshing but for a hunter as aged and versed as Dean, piece of pie.
“I’m ending it for good. No more coming back. No more open Hell Gates.” Despite having made his decision long ago, he still felt a weight shift on his shoulders at finally being able to say it. He was done. Done hurting people. Done getting people killed. Done.
“And you need me because...?” The bony man extended a finger at the bag Dean had forgotten he’d brought.
“Greasiest I could find.” He smirked.
Death hummed in response, “You shouldn’t try to bribe Death Dean. Very unwise given our history.”
“I know, but if I’m going to do this, I want something... I need to get a soul out of Hell. Which I can do, I know the demons that can get me down there fine. Crowley’s my little bitch,” His mind decided to replay that moment with Cas when he was a fucking badass and completely ass whooped Raphael, “So I can do the last trial. I just one thing to ask in return.”
“You talk too much. Get to the point.” Death waved a nonplussed hand, speaking around a mouthful of taco.
He swallowed. “I want to be reaped to Purgatory, not Hell.”
For a moment, the two men who had seen too much became lost in a pitying gaze on one another.
“I shall have the honour of reaping you myself, Dean. I can make that happen.”
The Horseman turned to leave when Dean caught his attention, “Hey Death,” head slightly turned, he regarded the human once more, “Thank you.”
Dear Cas, I’m sorry for such a shitty goodbye. I’ve always hated goodbyes... Too final you know? But I've also spent my life not being able to say these words to the people I care about...
It didn’t matter what soul he picked, as long as it was innocent. Fortunately for Dean, his raw determination, and wicked reputation, meant that it was easy to find what he needed. Reciting the words back on the earthly plane, he watched the lucky dip of a soul, innocent though it may be, rise into Heaven. For the first time in months, Dean felt like he had actually helped someone.
Heat burned through his veins, slithering through his bloodstream and crippling him into a lump on the floor. Inhaling deep breaths he forced himself to his feet and began to stagger back to the Impala. Thank God Crowley had stopped being a whiney bitch. Slamming the door more violently than required, he rested his clenched fists on the wheel of the Impala. In the rear view mirror, a withered and beaten face stared back.
At least my appearance finally mirrors my soul.
“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus...
hanc animam redintegra...
lustra!
lustra!”
Dean spoke the words between gasps of pain, watching as his arm began to glow.
“You know, Squirrel. If we weren’t mortal enemies, I think I’d quite like you. Though this all feels vaguely familiar.”
“Yeah, well I’m glad you feel like growing a uterus on me.” Dean leaned on the altar, needing something solid to keep him up.
“Come now, we have been through a lot mate. Sure, we’ve backstabbed one another, but I’ve grown fond of my Moose, Squirrel and Feathers.” He paused, his smarmy British face deep in thought, “I really want a fag.”
“Can’t let you get lung cancer now that you’re all human, dick bag.” He coughed.
Not even anyone on a magic mystery tour to say goodbye to. Most of them are dead because of me. This is it Dean. What did Cas call it? Doing penance.
The burning was getting increasingly more intense. It spread across his chest and made Dean double over in pain. He was retching blood across the floor, his arm wrapped around his ribs trying to keep the puzzle of his body from falling apart; Crowley made a sound of sadness.
“For what it’s worth, Crowley, I think you got me better than my family some days.” Black was creeping in the edges of his vision. In the distance he heard a cold, clipped voice calling his name.
Hey Castiel, this is the last time I’ll be calling. You’re 1000 miles away and I know you’re not listening but I need you to know. I love you. I love you, you nerdy angel bastard.
The inhale and exhale of his chest was decreasing... His heart rate plummeting.
“Have a great afterlife, Squirrel.”
Sam was positioned behind a stack of books opposite Cas when a rush of air blew all the papers onto the floor. They were trying to figure out what the cause and consequence of the not natural shudder in the supernatural world Cas had felt was. Angrily rising to his feet, he looked around for the culprit. Both he and Cas made stunned sounds of surprise.
“Miss me Sammykins, Cassie?” Gabriel smirked.
Cas noted that his tone didn’t carry his usual mirth. “Gabriel, you are alive.” He stated, staring at his brother to check he wasn’t imagining it.
“Can’t stay long. Just delivering a message for a friend. The ripple? Gates of Hell have been closed,” He held his hand up to stop both Cas and Sam from questioning him, “Dean told me all you need to know is this: Sammy I’m sorry, check the top of my desk,” He clicked his fingers and faintly as background noise the sound of a car horn filtered into the room, “and take good care of Baby.” Scrunching his nose up at the word choice the age old archangel turned to Castiel, “Cas, I’m even more sorry. For everything. There’s two letters in the top right hand drawer. You guys better fix Heaven, Earth doesn’t need Gabriel hanging around.”
Gabriel gave the two men a sad look and vanished.
Sam moved first, racing to Dean’s room, knocking the books off the table in the process. What he found on the desk made him cry out loud, in front of Cas. The angel ripped the drawer open and the men took their letters.
Dear Sammy,
I’m always going to call you that, bitch. I’m so sorry I fucked up. I mean I do it consistently, but I should have listened to you sooner. Problem is, every time I look at you I see the kid I gave my Lucky charms to, the boy I stole food for, the man I deflected Dad’s rage from and the brother I went to Hell for.
I would do it all again.
I’ve closed the gates of Hell, if you’ve seen Gabe. Oh and Crowley’s sitting pretty as a human in the same church we were at. I’ve done what I’m good for Sammy – I’ve sacrificed myself again. Dumbass move? No. I get people hurt Sam. I let people down.
I wish I could say I will be watching over you, but we both know how cliché that would be. You won’t be bringing me back. So get Heaven fixed, find yourself a gal, have 2.5 kids and the apple pie life we both know you deserve. Only, keep an eye on Cas would you? He’s family Sammy.
Take care.
I’m sorry.
Love you Sammy,
Dean
Sam stared at the words, re-reading the scribbles over and over again. Leaning on the table, something cold dug into his palm. With a gasp, he picked the amulet between his fingers. The tear dribbled down his cheek. A heavy weight, comforting and strong like Dean, settled around his neck.
To his right, Cas had a face of stone.
April 15th 2005
You gave everything up for me and I feel like shit. But Cas, I can’t watch the world burn because I won’t say ‘yes’. I don’t expect you to forgive me, Hell I don’t deserve that. But I would like to have thought that we had become friends, since you gripped me tight and raised me from Perdition. I don’t know if I ever even thanked you for that.
Some Righteous Man I am.
Don’t lose your free will Cas. It’s the only thing I got right.
Also I’m kind of in love with you. But I’m straight, so I didn’t tell you. We both have the emotional capabilities of brick when it comes to talking and that’s my fault. So now you know.
Sorry Cas, for letting you down, for getting you cut off from Heaven, for the first time you even laid your hands on the poison that is me.
Dean
The angel sniffed, squinting at the page before putting it carefully on the desk to read the other.
Hey Cas,
By the time you read this I will be dead. Sorry about that. Depending on how well the kiss went, will consequent how much regret I feel. I should have said something sooner. You’re a great hunter Cas no matter how much of a dick I was when I told you otherwise.
Keep an eye on Sammy for me and fix Heaven.
I’m really sorry Cas.
Love from Purgatory,
Dean
The blackness was so infinite, Dean wondered if Death had gone back on their deal. Rustling leaves beside his head and prone body made him shift to the side.
“Sup brother?”