Work Text:
“Dad! Dad! Isn’t it my turn to go with you?”
John woke again in a cold sweat. Every night was the same. Every night he got to relive what had happened. He fumbled trying to find his cigarettes, removing one from the pack and lighting it. He took a deep drag exhaling the smoke through his nose. He turned the bedside lamp on and untangled his legs from the sheets. He moves across the tiny apartment to the kitchen. Not even bothering to check if the glass was dirty, he pours himself two fingers of whiskey and downs it in a single gulp relishing the burn. He pours himself another one, grabbing the bottle and makes his way to the ratty couch that he had found thrown out on the side of the road.
The sound of ringing is what eventually woke him again. The light shined blinding him momentarily. His cell continued to ring and he debated on whether to let it just go to voice mail. His peace was disturbed again so he decided to glance at the screen. He had no one in his sorry excuse for a life, so it was either work or the V.A. It was the V.A, sliding the bar to accept the call he clears his throat.
“Hello, yes I’m John Winchester. Yeah, I saw him last Wednesday. What is it? Why can’t you tell me over the phone? Fine, just let me find a ride. I’ll be there.” He then hung up tossing the phone onto the coffee table. He lights himself a cigarette and makes his way to the bathroom to take a piss. He gets a glance at himself in the mirror. He’s lost over twenty pounds within the last month. His face is pale and eyes sunken in. He can’t decide if it’s the result of his poor diet and heavy drinking, or something else.
From the tone of the doctor he thinks that it could be something else. He rubs his face deciding if it’s worth the effort to shave. He doesn’t and strips off his boxer stepping into the shower not even bothering to let the water warm up. Scrubbing quickly, he gets out wrapping a towel around his waist. He relights his cigarette from earlier, dressing just as quickly as he washed. As he leaves he doesn’t bother locking his apartment door. After all, it’s not as if he has anything of value left.
The morning air was crisp and the grey clouds hinting at rain. He walked to the nearest bus stop, deciding not to take a cab and saving what little money he had to buy a bottle on the way home. He kept his head down and his hands in the pocket of his worn leather jacket. The bus pulled up and he scanned the pass that his employer adds money to every month. The bus is crowded with commuters, so he grasps the handle above his head. The bus stinks of piss and puke and he has the urge to light a cigarette, chastising himself for not smoking one before boarding. After the third stop he is finally able to grab a seat. He watches the city pass by in a blur trying his hardest to keep his thoughts clear. The bus comes to his stop and he gets off, lighting a cigarette first thing. He ends up smoking four more before coming to the entrance of the V.A.
The security guard pays him no mind as he makes his way to the frosted window with a sign saying No Tapping on The Glass. He waits for the receptionist to acknowledge him. Losing patience, he taps on the glass. A young woman slides it open, he doesn’t miss the irritation that is clearly showing on her face.
She slams a clipboard with paperwork down along with a pen. “Fill these out then take a seat.” Slamming the frosted window before he could say anything back, he grabs the paperwork and heads to sit. He taps the pen back and forth, these are forms he’s filled out a dozen times or more. Hands shaking, he tries to fill the forms out. Before he can even finish them, a nurse is calling him to the back. That damn window is open and the young blonde has a smile on her face. He flips her off, stupid kid will eventually learn her place. Karma is a bitch, and it seems that it’s time that she collects on John Winchester.
Rain is falling as he exits the hospital the words ‘terminal’ and ‘hospice’ playing in his mind an endless loop. He doesn’t remember the bus ride home, didn’t even stop at the liquor store. Settling into the couch he lights himself a cigarette, not able to stop himself from smiling. A weight that has been on his shoulders for the last twenty years is gone and a sense of peace has filled him. He places the cigarette in the ash tray and walks to his closet, pulling the switch. Various boxes are pulled down and piled until he finds his prize. It’s a small handmade wooden box painted in a child’s handwriting ‘dad’. He wipes the thin film of dust off the top. The last time he added to its contents was a month ago. With the box he heads back to the living room and pulls out his cell phone, bringing up Google search.
Chaos. That’s the only word to describe Castiel Novak’s desk at the moment. Pictures of his last stake out and various cartons of half eaten food. He ran his hand through his already messy hair. He really wanted this one to turn out good for his client. The man referred to himself as Dr. Badass and Castiel was not sure how he had acquired his millions, but he was a nice enough guy. He was preparing to propose to his girlfriend Jo and was convinced by his friends that he should have the woman sign a prenup, wanting to prove his friends wrong he hired Castiel to follow her. A solid month went by and there were no signs of infidelity. He was just days from telling his client the good news when one Saturday afternoon he found her in a coffee shop. That in itself was not unusual but today she had company. She was with a cute red-head. It looked friendly enough until he noticed that their hands were entwined. He then followed them to a house on the outskirts of town, it was then that he watched his clients soon to not be fiancé begin to make out with said red-head. He stuck around just long enough to get the evidence he needed. Turns out the red-head was his clients’ sister. Ouch.
He was startled out of his thoughts when the phone beside him rang. “Megan”.
“Tsk tsk, now Clarence you know how I hate when you call me that.”
“Just like you know that my name is not Clarence. I’m busy what is it.” Laughter rang in his ear.
“I love it when your feisty, got another client for you.” His chair creaked as he leaned back, a groan escaped him as he contemplated whether he wanted another one so soon.
“I need an answer. The guy already said he’ll go somewhere else if you’re not interested.”
“He’s here?” He looked around himself. Not only was his office a mess but he didn’t fare any better. He had a stain from spilt coffee from two days ago and a weeks’ worth of stubble. Needless to say, he wasn’t ready for a consultation.
“Yuuup. And did I mention that he wants to pay in cash?” That got his attention. He wasn’t a materialistic person, but bills and employees had to be paid and he did enjoy eating and having a roof over his head.
“Send him in.” He put on his trench coat in order to cover the stain, opened up his desk drawer grabbing the bottle of mouth wash he keeps for emergencies. He gargles it quickly looking for a place to spit it out. Not able to find a bottle to spit in, he swallows it. He tries his best to flatten his hair while throwing cartons of unused food in his already full trash can. Even though he expects it the knock on the door startles him. Looking around the office one last time, it’s the best that it’s going to be for now. He sits in his chair and gathers up his last client’s pictures as he calls for the person to come in.
The man who entered looked haggard. He was thin and his salt and pepper hair was wiry. His shirt was threadbare and was wearing a leather jacket and boots that have seen better days. His P.I service wasn’t high end but the likelihood that this man had the means to pay even the most basic fees was not promising. As if the man could sense his thoughts a wad of cash was tossed onto the desk. He picked it up, the top bill being a hundred.
“There’s more from where that came from. Don’t worry I can pay.” Castiel felt his cheeks heat in embarrassment.
“I apologize, Mr.?” The older man began to cough violently. He watched as the man brought a handkerchief to his mouth. It came away spotted red. “Sir are you alright? Can I offer you some?”
“I need you to locate my son.” Right to the point, so that’s how it’s going to be.
“I can do that but it will take me some time. I’ll need as much information as you can give.” He got out a legal pad and a pen ready to take down the necessary information.
“He lives in Lawrence, Kansas. I can give you the address. I have his phone number and that picture is from his high school graduation if that will help.”
Curiosity getting the best of him, “If you know where he is why do you need my services?” The man who has yet to give Castiel his name starts pacing the room. He looks at the various diplomas and pictures throughout. Even picks up a ceramic angel that his secretary Meg gave him one Christmas as a joke. He places it down gently, turning to face Castiel a sad smile marring his features, his eyes filled with sorrow.
“It’s complicated. I haven’t had contact with him in eighteen years. His mother just recently passed two years ago. I’m not going to be around much longer and I just.” He takes a deep breath trying to collect his thoughts. How to tell a stranger that your expiration date is coming up and that you want to how the kid you abandoned has fared as an adult.
“Look Mr. Novak, this will be the easiest money you make. I just want to know that he’s okay and when the time comes you do as I ask. Do we have a deal?”
A part of him wants to say no. That this just doesn’t sound or feel right, but something in his gut tells him that he needed to say yes. His intuition has never let him down before and as his new client pointed out, it will be the easiest paycheck he’s ever received.
“What’s your son’s name?”
“Dean. Dean Winchester.”
It’s been a few hours since his new client, John Winchester left. Even with the address and phone number his search so far has come up empty. It was very rare to find an individual without a cyber foot print. His mark had no criminal record that he could find with the exception of sealed juvenile records. It took a single phone call and all he learned was that at one-point Dean had stolen a bottle of perfume from a department store. Most likely for his mother, the store decided to press charges and even though it was his first and only offence, the judge decided to make an example of him. He spent the summer at a halfway house for juveniles called Sonny’s Home for Wayward Boys. From then on, he Is a ghost. No credit cards, no bank accounts, not even a Facebook. After calling in a couple more favors he was able to get ahold of his tax records. He was part owner of Singer’s Auto Repair and Restoration but didn’t actually work there. The address that John had given him was also owned by Dean but was rented out to a young newlywed couple who have lived there the last year.
Turns out that this wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought. It took almost two months staking out the auto shop before he got lucky. He spotted a man who resembled the teenager in the photo. From the distance the only thing that Castiel could make out was his dark blonde hair and bow legs. He watched as the man who looked to be in his early thirties hug a gruff old man in a wheelchair, who he had come to learn was Bobby Singer. Before he could get his camera out to take a picture Dean was pulling down the gate and the lit-up sign was now off. Not wanting to miss his chance now that he has finally found him Castiel decides to wait a bit longer.
It’s been hours and Castiel is bored. Not wanting to risk his battery dying on him he’s had his car off. His phone is dead and he has to go to the bathroom. Really really bad. Letting his bladder win its protest he decides to go to the small café that he knows is right up the block. He sprints toward it not only because of the urgency of his bladder but also so that he doesn’t miss Dean leaving. The bathroom has no line and he groans in relief. After washing his face and hands he exits. The smell of fresh baked pastries and ground coffee flood his senses and his stomach begins to gurgle. Happy that again there is no line he orders himself a coffee and a few Danishes to tide him over. He pays the cashier and just as he turns he feels a body walk directly into him and his coffee falls forward.
“Son of a bitch!” Castiel opens his mouth to apologize but he’s left speechless. There standing in front of him removing his flannel shirt, is Dean Winchester. Finally willing his body to move he grabs a stack of napkins of the counter and tries to help the man. Thankful that he had remembered to ask the barista to add ice to cool it down a bit, the coffee was not scalding.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t see you! Are you okay? You’re not burned, are you?” Dean takes the napkins from him and dabs his Henley.
“Nah man it’s not your fault. I was trying to rush in here before they closed.” He looks up and Castiel is met with the greenest eyes he has ever seen. He’s so enamored that he misses the words coming from Dean’s mouth. A hand is waived in front of his face to get his attention, he shakes his head trying to collect his thoughts.
“I apologize my people skills are a bit rusty.” Dean watches the man amused at the fact that he actually used air quotes. His interest has definitely been piqued.
“I was asking if you’d like me to buy you another coffee. Unless you’d like to drink what’s left from my chest.” He winked at the blue-eyed man. Hoping that he had gauged him correctly. It’s been a while since he felt any interest for a guy. The man’s blue eyes crinkled in confusion.
“Was that a flirtation?” Dean doubled over in laughter. Oh yeah, he liked this one. He wiped tears from his eye. He hadn’t laughed that hard in a long time.
“Apparently you aren’t the only one rusty. I’m Dean Singer.” He took the blonde man’s out stretched hand in his.
“Castiel Novak and that isn’t necessary. It was nice meeting you Dean.” He let go of the other man’s hand and made his way out the door. He got into his car and drove off, leaving the coffee shop to fade in the rear-view mirror.
He changed his name. There was no record of his mother, Mary remarrying. There was no record of a name change. Legally he was still Dean Winchester. The deed and permits for the auto shop confirmed that. This could be why Dean didn’t have a digital footprint, he was using an alias. The moment he typed ‘Dean Smith’ into the search engine everything he ever needed to know about the other man superficially was at his fingertips. He learned that even though he owned half of the auto shop, he was no mechanic. Dean may have loved working on cars and a proud owner of a classic ’67 Impala, but his true passion lay with helping people. He was a physical therapist who specialized working with children. His Facebook photos full of him posing with children of various ages and their parents. He was very involved in politics and was particularly vocal when it came to LBGTQ+ community. His entire life was out in the open for all to see.
He found himself addicted scrolling through the other man’s feed looking for any morsel of new information that would give him insight into exactly who Dean Winchester actually was. His eyes were dry and he was beginning to get a headache. He looked over at the clock to discover that he had been scrolling through his marks Facebook for over four hours. He rubbed his face with both hands. He went to go shut down his computer when his eye caught onto the words “It should have been me” The posting date November 2. Curious he put the date into the search bar. Every year on that date there are variations of “I’m sorry”, “I never forgot you”, and “Why”. He then decided to type in the date of Mary’s death.
“You’re not alone anymore, Sammy. Tell mom I love her”.
Those post haunted him in the upcoming weeks. It was easier to keep tabs on Dean. He had his routine down. He’d stop by the shop in the early morning then make a stop to the café where they first met. On Friday’s he bought donuts and coffee for everyone in his office. Saturdays, he spent his time at a bar called the Roadhouse where he hustled people in pool and if intoxicated enough, sang karaoke. To keep himself from being noticed he alternated between his Oldsmobile and Meg’s Prius. he relayed the pictures and progress reports to his client as requested and in return he received envelopes of cash. Three months had passed with the same routine, until one day instead of a manila envelope of cash, he received a letter addressed to Dean and a set of instructions. It didn’t surprise Castiel in the least that the date postmarked on the envelope was November 2nd.
The PI was damned good at his job. He submitted detailed reports of his son’s daily activities along with photographs. He had to wipe away tears more than a few times. Dean resembled his Mary in more than just looks. He was proud to discover that his son didn’t follow in his footsteps. Instead of fixing cars he decided to try and help fix people. He was saddened to find out that Dean had decided to take his old friend’s name, but not surprised. Bobby had always had a soft spot where Dean was concerned and thankful that he had not abandoned the boy. Though he felt guilty afterwards he was also happy to know that Mary never remarried and from what the PI could gather besides his son and close friends had no other men in her life up until her death. His heart ached. He may have left them both but he never stopped loving them and other than a few drunken one night stands he likes to believe that he remained faithful to her.
He begins to cough violently and reaches for the bottle of water that he tries to keep at his side. His time is coming near. When he finally gets his coughing to stop and his breathing under control, he thinks about what he needs to do. He went to the craft store and got the nicest paper that they had. It was thick and heavy in his hand as he straightens the pages out. He knows exactly what he wants to say but still can’t put the words to paper. No words could make up for all that his family had lost thanks to him. No amount of apologizing made up for him abandoning his family when they needed him most. Nothing he did would ever bring back Sam. It occurred to him then that as soon as the letter was written, Dean would be the only one left. Taking the pen in hand he wrote out everything he ever wanted to say.
He feels light as he heads to the mailbox and drops the thick envelope into the slot. The fear that he felt earlier is gone and he is ready for whatever is to come. As he passes by the liquor store he debates on whether to buy one last bottle for the road. Instead he crosses the street to the bus stop and waits to board. As usual it is crowded but he doesn’t mind standing. He holds onto the handle provided and watches the city pass by in a blur. It finally comes to his stop and it’s then that he remembers that he didn’t bring them anything. Feeling foolish because how will they even know? The path is familiar even though it had been more than a decade since his last visit.
“Hello Mary, hello son. I know it’s been a long time. Don’t worry Dean is doing okay. He’s got a lot of people who look after and up to him. You did such a wonderful job, baby.” He knelt down and wiped the dirt from her plaque. A choked back a sob. “I’m so sorry that I wasn’t strong enough for you both. So so sorry.”
Tears blurred his vision as he looked over to his son’s grave. The date a permanent reminder of just how short his life had been because of him. There would be no redemption. Even if there were enough time nothing he ever did would replace his actions that day. The ever-present feeling of knowing that it should have been him gnawed away at him. It made the decision easier each passing moment.
“I’ll see you both soon.”
He was doing it again. He kept telling himself that this was part of the job. He’s being paid to keep tabs on Dean. He knows that he’s just bullshitting himself. Somehow the green-eyed man had got under his skin. Dean likes seeing what Dean posts throughout the day. He doesn’t get what the pictures with humorous captions are but Dean finds enjoyment in them if his timeline is anything to go by. He has had to stop himself from going back to the café. He had to keep this professional but the more he learned about the other man the more intrigued he became. Hearing the door, he quickly shut the lid to his laptop.
“What you watching there, Clarence? If you’re that frustrated I have no problem with helping you re-arrange some furniture.” She winked at him and he couldn’t help the little half smile.
“That won’t be necessary, just finishing up some last-minute research. What is it that you need?” She tossed a huge envelope onto his desk and sauntered out the door. He flipped it over to see who it was from. John Winchester. He tore into it and found all of the pictures and notes that he had sent the man along with three envelopes. One which was addressed to him and two for Dean. He opened the one addressed to him and there was a letter and a check for $10,000, five times the agreed upon fee.
Castiel,
If you are reading this it means that I am dead. I thank you for taking my case on even though I know you had your reservations and for good reason. Your job however is far from over. Enclosed along with your payment are two envelopes. If I have timed this right my funeral will be this Saturday. Please leave the first envelope in his mailbox Friday evening. I have already made the arrangements, there will be no service. I know it’s selfish but I’d like at least one person to attend my funeral. I then need you to mail the second envelope six months later.
I know that there is a chance that you will just cash the check and throw this shit away. It’s not like anyone would ever know. But you don’t strike me as the type and that would so I’m trusting you.
John Winchester
Still in disbelief he read the letter over and over again. The man had been eerily precise because the next day was Friday. He picked up the large envelope and checked the post mark. It was no coincidence that it happened to be mailed on November 2nd. That night he didn’t sleep. He wrestled with what to do next. John Winchester was right about one thing, he couldn’t very well in good conscious cash that check and walk away. He had to see this through.
The sun wasn’t even up yet as he made his way to the garage. He knew that Dean always came to open up the shop for the old man who worked there. Since he was wheelchair bound it had to be difficult for him to open and close the doors the way that they were set up. Castiel always wondered why they just didn’t install a mechanical door but then guessed that this was a way for Dean to check up on the other man. He debated on whether this was a good place to leave the envelope. He’d never seen Dean check the mail. Perhaps he should find a way to deliver it to his office? No, there would be too many eyes by then. He finally decided to just put it in between the grooves of the gate. Tempted to stay he gave the envelope one last look and turned to head home.
Dean followed his usual routine. Since it was a sunny day with no forecast of rain, he decided to leave his baby at home and walk to work. He stopped at the café that was caddy-corner to the shop. He liked their variety of pastries and knew how to brew a mean cup of coffee. Also, that’s where he met Castiel. It had been over a month since he had met the gorgeous man but there was still a small part of him that kept hoping that he would run into him again one day. He got two coffees, one for himself and one for Bobby, as well as an assortment of their fresh baked donuts. He tipped the barista $5 and made his way to open the shop.
He knew that opening the shop before Bobby woke up irritated him, kept telling Dean that just because he’s in a wheelchair that he could still open his own damn shop and then call him an idjit. He knew that the older man was more than capable to open the shop. Hell, he literally does circles around the mechanics in the shop still insisting on doing the majority of oil changes himself. He could always humor the guy and buy a mechanical gate like he keeps suggesting, but Dean knows that Bobby secretly likes his daily visits. Dean needs them too, especially since his mother’s death.
She was diagnosed and dead within a year. Ovarian cancer that seemed to come out of nowhere and strike with a vengeance. The loss still a scab over his heart, like his brother still festers. His own father nowhere to be found he conceded to being the last Winchester. There were days that he wondered where his father disappeared to, but then he remembers the countless nights of listening to his mother cry herself to sleep and casts the thoughts aside. Besides, Bobby was more of a father than John ever was. He saved him from throwing his life away when he caught him trying to steal that car. Bobby still called the cops and yeah, he did spend the summer in juvie, but the second he got out he took the boy and his mother overwhelmed mother under his wing. He put Dean to work learning how to fix cars and helped him restore the very one he tried to steal, handing him the keys to the 67 Impala when he graduated and was going away to college. He owed the man so much.
He placed the coffee and box of donuts on the concrete and dug in his pocket for the key. As he pushed the gate up he saw something white flitter to the ground. He turned to pick it up and froze. Dean Winchester. It had nothing but his name on it. Curious he looked around as he carefully tore into the envelope, not wanting to tear its contents. There was a handwritten note and to Dean’s amazement a cashier check in the amount of $250,000. This had to be a joke! He began to unfold the letter, the single piece of paper feeling heavy in his hand.
Hello Dean,
I’m sure that you are very confused at this moment. Most likely wondering if the cashier check is even real. Rest assure that it is. The money is yours but it does come with a request. On Saturday November 6 go to Pat’s Liquor Store. Buy a single serve bottle of whiskey. Bring it to the Oakfield Cemetery and there you will find me. All you have to do is give an old man one last drink by pouring the bottle of whiskey on my grave. That’s it. Nothing more nothing less. Grant an old man’s final wish.
That’s it? He flipped the paper over, looked into the envelope looking for anything that could identify the sender. “Boy what are you doing?” He turned to the gruff man and said nothing, only handing him the letter. He watched as the man’s facial expressions morphed from confusion to disbelief. He handed Dean back the letter. “So, you going to do it?”
“I don’t know, isn’t it kind of morbid? What kind of person invites and pays a complete stranger to do something like this?”
“A lonely one.”
He found himself re-reading the note, the check like a weight in his pocket. He decided to call out and after some convincing arguments from Bobby, decided he would do it. Bobby was right this amount of cash would really help him out. He wasn’t hurting for cash and lived comfortably, but this money would take care of a huge chunk of the student loans he still owed. Or it was enough to buy a house instead of continuing to live in his cramped apartment. Or it was enough to expand his practice and the shop. Though he had already told Bobby that he was going to do it, he had his doubts. Mostly he tried to imagine the person who wrote it. Was it a man or a woman? How did they know him? Maybe they were a relative of an ex-patient? Regardless Dean was going to do this.
He did exactly as the note said. He parked baby and got out walking up the paved sidewalk to the open gate. It was a lot smaller than the one that his mother and brother resided at. It took him almost a half hour until he found the newly dug grave. There was no stone or plaque, no evidence of any visitors, or even a service for that matter. He had stopped at a florist and picked up a simple assortment. He laid it onto the freshly turned earth and pulled the bottle from his pocket.
“I don’t know who you are or why you picked me. I hate to admit but it took a lot of convincing. If you thought that the money would be an incentive you picked the wrong guy. But my dad said that most likely you were lonely and had no family. In a way I can kind of relate. I lost my brother at a young age and my father took off shortly after. It was just me and mom for so long. I had friends but nothing real. I guess I watched my mom push so many people away it seemed like that was the way to go through life. She’s gone now too if you’re wondering.” He sat down beside the mound.
“I have a good life but sometimes I wonder. Wonder what would have happened if it would have been me that went with dad instead of Sammy. What would have happened if my dad didn’t leave. How different my life would be?” He plucked a blade of grass and twisted it around his finger. Not knowing why but feeling free to be able to speak his thoughts without interruption or being told that he shouldn’t have these thoughts. “There were times growing up that I wished that it would have been me instead of Sammy. It was my turn to go with my dad that night. But my friend Benny was sleeping over and Sammy was trying to get us to play with him. I kept kicking him out of the room. Finally, my dad came up. He needed to go to the store, mom wanted ice cream to go with the pie she had made and forgot to pick some up. There wasn’t enough room for all three of us to go so I gave my turn to Sammy. They never made it to the store.”
He ignored the tears that were streaming down his face. He never talked about it. Especially after his dad left. He knew how much it upset his mother and he had to be strong for her. “A person driving a semi-truck fell asleep at the wheel. They said Sammy died on impact, that he didn’t suffer. My dad was in a coma for three weeks. Broken arm, both legs, and a fractured skull. They kept him under to help with the swelling in his brain. He was in the hospital for so long. He missed Sammy’s funeral. When he woke up he wouldn’t talk. My mom thought that he had brain damage, turns out guilt is a bitch. I should know. He blamed himself and they fought all the time. My dad started drinking and the day before the one-year anniversary of Sammy dying he left. My mom would get checks in the mail every month. I got birthday cards. He never called, never let us know where he was. The prick never even gave my mom a divorce, so even if she wanted to move on she couldn’t. After I graduated my mom moved. No more money, no more birthday cards, he may as well have been dead along with Sammy.”
He looked down on the mound of dirt beside him and he hated it but he felt good. It was cathartic to get all of this out in the open, and it’s not like the person resting here was going to tell. He eased himself off the ground and brushed the dirt from his jeans. “Thanks for letting me get all that off my chest. I guess the school counselors were right.” He gave one last look to the grave, bowed his head whispering his final respects into the wind and headed back to his car. He turned the key in the ignition deciding that he needed a drink.
‘It’s a nice day for a funeral.’ That was the thought that kept sarcastically running like a hamster on a wheel through his head. He didn’t even know why he had come. He didn’t doubt that Dean would show, or maybe he did. Regardless he didn’t want John to be buried alone. He watched as the casket was lowered into the ground. He picked up a fistful of dirt and let it fall between his fingers making its way to the bottom where John now lay. He should have brought some flowers or something. It took them about an hour to get the grave completely covered. He stood another fifteen minutes paying his last respects to a client he hardly knew. When he raised his head, he saw someone heading in his direction. Recognizing Dean, he turned and walked the other direction. He couldn’t let Dean see him. He hid behind the nearest tree and watched as the man made his way to the grave.
He was just as attractive as that day in the café. He watched as Dean looked around unsure of what he should do. He noticed that the man had the foresight to bring flowers. He watched him lay the flowers down and then pour a shot bottle of some kind of alcohol onto the grave. He waited for Dean to turn and leave but was surprised when he watched the man sit down beside the mound of dirt. Tempted to stay but not wanting to further intrude, he made the trek to his car. He pulled the check out of his pocket. Meg thought that he was crazy for not cashing it yet and kept saying that if he didn’t want it she had no problem taking it, it could be an early Christmas bonus. Finally making up his mind, he started the engine and turned onto the open road.
The music was loud and the bar was crowded. He usually didn’t do bars but this place had the best burgers, and after today he needed some comfort food. The waitress was quick with his beer. He allowed himself one knowing that he later had to drive home. He nursed his beer as he waited for his food.
“Is this seat taken?” Castiel raised his head to the familiar voice, he couldn’t believe it. There standing at his booth with his own beer was Dean. He nodded his head and the green-eyed man sat down across from him. Dean smiled, causing his stomach to flip in the most delightful way.
“I was hoping to see you again at the café, almost gave up hope of ever seeing you again.” Castiel felt his cheeks warm. Still in disbelief that the beautiful man in front of him gave him even a second thought.
“I apologize. That was my first and only time visiting that particular shop.” Dean shrugged his shoulders and took a sip from his bottle. The waitress placed the plate in front of him and turned a bright and flirty smile to Dean.
“You want your food brought over here, handsome?” Dean smiled and gave a quick yes and turned his attention back to Castiel.
They sat in silence for the minute it took the waitress to bring over the other plate. He didn’t look her way at all, grabbing the ketchup and smothering his fries. He picked one up and popped it into his mouth, “So Cas, what does a guy have to do to get your number?” After that the night passed by in a blur. They drank, they played pool, they drank some more. Castiel found conversing with Dean easy. Where people usually thought him strange for talking so formal, Dean found it endearing. He wasn’t shy when it came to touching in public. He reveled in Dean’s heat each time that Dean insisted on helping him make a shot while playing pool. Dean’s hand found itself on Castiel’s hip more than once and talked right into his ear instead of trying to talk over the music. It wasn’t long before their lips met and the mutual want in their eyes.
Both drinking more then they intended, decide to get an Uber. Making out and giggling like teenagers they made their way to Dean’s apartment. They barely got through the door before shedding their clothes. That night neither one got any sleep. The next morning Castiel woke up to an empty bed. He should have known that it would be just a one-night stand. He rushed and got his clothes on and just as he was making his way to leave, the front door opened. Dean walked in with two cups of coffee and a brown bag. His smile faded when he saw that Cas had his keys in hand. He put the drinks and food on the table and removed his jacket. He tried to hide the hurt, no way in hell was he going to let this guy know that he got to him.
“Were you even going to say goodbye or were you just going to slink out of here.” Castiel’s blue eyes widened. Dean was upset. Right now, Dean was feeling how he was minutes prior. He tossed his trench coat over the couch and grabbed one of the coffees. Pulling out a chair and sitting down. “I thought that you not being in bed meant that you wanted me gone. It never occurred to me that you would have went to get us breakfast.” He sipped the coffee still too hot to take a decent pull. Dean sat down in the chair next to him, pulling his coffee toward him as well as the bag which held two breakfast sandwiches.
“Dude I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the moment you burned me with your coffee.”
“You said that you were fine.” Dean laughed. It was a nice sound. One that he wanted to hear more of. He rose from his seat and grabbed the coffee from Cas’s hand and put it to the side. He wrapped his arms around the dark hair man as he straddled him.
“If you think I’m letting you go you’re crazy.” Their lips met and just like that breakfast was forgotten.
From then on, they were inseparable. Spending almost all of their free nights together. They went on dates at the start but then began to prefer to stay in. They couldn’t keep their hands off of each other, christening both apartments daily. Dean told him about Sam, his mother, and his absent father. Castiel told him about his family disowning him and his five-year career as a police officer before quitting and starting his own PI firm. There were many times he wanted to say something but couldn’t. It wasn’t long until Dean introduced him to Bobby. He got the generic ‘hurt my son’ speech and knew without a doubt that Bobby meant every word. When he introduced Dean to Meg she badgered him on a daily basis to tell the truth. She got even more persistent after hearing Dean tell him that he loved him before leaving his office. He wasn’t stupid. It was also coming up on the six-month anniversary of John’s letter and almost time to deliver the second one which most likely would tell Dean everything.
He had the evil thought of not giving Dean the second letter. His lover would never know and they can stay in this bubble of happiness that they have created for themselves. But Castiel knew better than anyone that in his profession no secret stayed buried. He called Dean at his job and told him that he had something important to tell him, and that he may not like it. It took time to convince Dean that no he wasn’t ending things, and no he couldn’t tell him over the phone it had to be in person. They agreed to meet at the bar that Dean had declared was their first date.
He walked in to see Dean already at a booth, nursing his third beer and shredded napkins around the bottles. His heart ached. He knew that this can go one of two ways and chances are it wouldn’t be the happy way. His hand tightened around the envelope that held his dirty secret. Taking a deep breath, he made his way through the crowd to his love. He never tired of seeing Dean smile. He took a mental picture, forever sealing it away.
“If this ain’t you breaking up with me it better be a proposal of some kind.” He laughed at his own joke and when noticed that Cas didn’t smile or laugh along, he began to get scared. Instead of words Cas just placed a huge envelope on the table and slid it toward him. He looked into his lover’s eyes before tearing it open. In the envelope was picture after picture of him going about his daily life. They were months old. He slowly made his way through the stack and a smaller and familiar envelope also lay on the table. In the same writing as the letter he received six months prior; To My Son. Suddenly he couldn’t breathe.
“What is all this Cas?” He looked Castiel in the eye and to his credit he didn’t flinch away.
“I had a client who was terminally ill. He hired me to find his son and to report to him his wellbeing. That client was your father. That day we met in the café was the first time I had found you. I’m the one who delivered the first letter. The grave you visited was your father’s. I should have told you in the beginning, but I honestly thought I’d never see you again. Then you approached me in the bar and we started this and I fell in love with you. I was scared and I’m so sorry that I didn’t tell you.” He couldn’t look away, only Dean Winchester could make anger look beautiful. “Please say something.” Dean gathered up the pictures and stood, Castiel reached for his hand hurt in his eyes as Dean pulled away.
He heard the whimper escape from Cas as he stormed out of the bar. He couldn’t look at the other man, didn’t know what to think. He felt betrayed, he felt angry. He got in his car and sped off. He drove and drove and made it to his destination. He made his way to the grave he confessed to six months prior. There was the irrefutable proof that Cas was telling the truth, despite him having the pictures and letter. As hard as he tried to hold on to his anger he felt it slip away into sadness. The anger was easier to handle.
“How could you? You knew where I was the whole fucking time and you still couldn’t see me! Why? We lost him too you son of a bitch! You abandoned us when we needed you, God.” He pulled at his hair and sank to his knees. He let out a heart wrenching wail as he let the years of loneliness and loss out. He read the last letter and understood why he left. How he never stopped loving him, his mother, and most importantly Sammy. How he used to have nightmares every night and that drinking was the only thing that helped. It hurt to know that his father didn’t wait to succumb to his illness but greeted death like an old friend. He didn’t want to burden Dean and he was proud of him.
He cried what felt like hours. Not wanting to drive home he slept in his car. He told his father that he was going to work on getting him put next to the rest of his family. He sent a quick text letting Cas know that he would need some time. He forgave him but for the moment he needed to be alone. The money that his father left him was just enough to have him and his tombstone relocated to the plot where the rest of his family was buried. He was going to give his father the funeral that he deserved.
Castiel buried himself in work. He didn’t sleep and he barely ate. His life reversed back to the way it was before Dean. Dean had said that he needed time, how much was uncertain. He was tired of the pitiful looks from Meg. He kept waiting for her to say I told you so but it never came. He already got his ass reamed by Bobby who flat out said that if Dean didn’t love him so much he’d be a dead man. Without Dean he felt empty. His phone notification popped up that he had a missed call and a voicemail……. from Dean. This was probably it. The call to let him know that he’s done and it’s over.
“Sorry I haven’t kept in touch. I needed time to get my family’s shit together. I had my father exhumed and having him buried next to mom and Sammy. Funeral is tomorrow. I hope you’ll be there. I love you, Cas. Always.”
He slept at home that night and made sure to shave and wear his best suit. He followed the instructions that were texted to him and found Dean easily enough. Dean pulled Castiel into his arms and kissed him with so much love that he felt his knees buckle. As he pulled away he grabbed Castiel’s hand and pulled him toward three headstones.
“Cas, I’d like you to meet my family. Mom, dad, Sammy this is Cas.”