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Dry leaves crunched underneath his boots as Dean shimmies through the gap in the old, flimsy chain linked fence. It is idiotic to come here at night. He knows that. The bright beam of his flashlight only stretches out so far before the darkness swallows it up. Still, Dean presses forward, eyes flicking back and forth, straining against the night for even the slightest hint of movement. He manages to grip the flashlight tightly enough to stop any chances of showing that his hands might be shaking.
Dean takes his time slowly walking forward, closer to the old abandoned amusement park. Despite the situation he can’t help but smile thinking of another time, years ago, when he brought his little brother here when the place actually ran. The kid had the time of his life up until a clown popped out of nowhere and traumatized Sammy to the point the kid was in near hysterics. To this day Sammy still freaks out whenever he sees a clown.
The wind picks up making his ears perk up at to the noise of creaky metal groaning. Dean swings his flashlight to his right and sees an old swing ride that takes you up in the air and spins you around. Over the years since the amusement park closed everyone has been vandalized and destroyed somehow. One single lone swing haphazardly sways back and forth with the wind, squeaking in such a way that has the hairs on the back of Dean’s neck raising.
Sweeping the flashlight in front of him, Dean tries to navigate through the weeds and garbage. He passes toppled over garbage cans, broken benches and food stalls covered in graffiti. Next to the half caved in funhouse he sees a dirty old show that is small enough Dean knows it belongs to someone younger than some run of the mill punk teenager.
The wind picks up as he makes his way to the back of the amusement park, closer to his destination. Too preoccupied with straining his eyesight in the moonless night trying to see ahead of him, Dean isn’t paying too much attention to where his feet are taking him. When his foot lands on top of the unbroken bottle, he lets out a yelp, arms swinging as he tries to regain his balance. Stumbling forward with momentum he falls into a broken bench. Dean catches him, panting as he takes a moment.
Looking backwards, hoping to see the offending object that might have almost cost him his life, Dean sees his flashlight laying in a patch of taller weeds. Pushing up from the bench, Dean walks over to retrieve his flashlight, kicking the bottle that threatened him.
Dean looks around trying to regain his bearings, squinting through the darkness trying to figure out how he can get so turned around. Not for the first time (more like the hundredth) Dean wonders why there isn’t any type of light out here. Even in the overgrown parking lot where there use to be at least two or three lights on giant poles have long since burnt out. Why doesn’t anyone care enough to fix it? Surly it has to be some kind of safety hazard of some kind. People can’t be stupid enough to think that having zero light will actually keep kids away from doing whatever it is they do nowadays.
Over the top of a somewhat intact game booth (he thinks) Dean sees what he’s looking for. He slips in between the rundown food stand and what he thinks use to be a knocking the bottle over game, and stumbles into what might as well be a completely different world.
The clutter of the amusement park has all but vanished, and all that’s left is the long, tall, dry grass blowing in the cool wind in such a way that Dean imagines this is what the ocean must look like. Almost dead center in the middle of the grasslike ocean stands what he drove almost ten hours straight to get to.
The ferris wheel itself looks nothing more than a darker silhouette against the already pale black sky. Even this far out he can see it mostly intact, just a few of the carriages are gone, their blank spaces on the wheel standing out like a sore thumb.
Dean’s feet carry him across forward through the waist high grass. He wades through the grass easily, the wind almost helping push him along, closer to the one thing he’s kept himself from coming back to all these years. Dean’s heartbeat races as he get closer, the Ferris wheel growing larger, yet, not so ominous as he approaches. His palms begin to sweat as he passes the flashlight off to his other hand to shake it out. The grass tickles his hand, twisting itself around his fingers as if trying to hold onto him.
He stops just a few feet from the steps to the platform and swallows dryly looking at them. In the dark he can’t make out anything more than the dark steps. It’s been years, but still he refuses to shine his light on the steps afraid of what he might see.
Dean looks up to at the giant wheel in front of him, eyes slowly following the circle of the carts until he’s almost to the very top. Two seats away from the top, he remembers.
Back when he was sixteen ferris wheels hardly had any of the safety measures they have now. The seats were made for two people, possibly three if you were skinny enough to fit in one. He remembers girls laughing and screaming with false fear when their dates would daringly rock them while they were in the air.
As Dean stares up at the empty space where the cart should be, his mind starts to replay images from him past he’s tried so very hard to keep far from the surface.
“C’mon Dean! These things are completely safe!” His best friend says, pulling on the sleeve of his shirt. “Promise I wont rock the boat.”
Dean looked up at the the rickety looking ferris wheel that groaned loudly over the happy squealing people and loud carnival music. It wasn’t that he is afraid of heights, it was just that he doesn’t trust a piece of equipment that can be put up and taken down in less than a day almost all year round. There was just something very unsettling about that.
“Please,” his friend asks, letting his fingers rest on over his wrist. Dean’s fingers twitch to move to fall in between the empty spaces. “Just one time and I wont ask again.”
Dean looks up into his friends blue eyes and knows he’s already going to cave before he can manage the words. How could he ever tell him no when he looks at him like that?
“Fine,” he sighs, rolling his eyes trying to pretend like he doesn’t really want this. “You’re so pushy, Castiel.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t like it,” Cas says winking and tightening his grip around Dean’s wrist. “C’mon! They’re starting to let people on!”
Dean let’s himself be drug along, silently happily freaking out that Cas is touching him. It’s close enough to holding hands that Dean lets himself enjoy it. As they slip into the short line Dean expects Cas to drop his wrist, but he doesn’t. When they climb up the platform together Cas keeps his grip firm, even looking over and giving him a little wink that definitely does not make Dean blush. As they climb into their two person seat together and the worker half heartedly lowers the bar in front of them, Castiel doesn’t let go. Instead, he rests Dean’s arm in the little empty space between them and looks out and around at the people moving around the grounds.
It isn’t until the ride groans and sputters into motion again that Cas actually loosens his grip enough to move his hand. For one brief, panicking second Dean thinks Cas might pull away all together, but Cas just slips his fingers in between Dean’s, looking over at him with a sly grin.
“You know,” he says looking up as their cart climbs higher, “when we turn eighteen and get out of this place there’s no one to tell us what we can and can’t do.”
Dean wants to argue that there are plenty of rules, plenty of people to tell them what they’re allowed and not allowed to do, but he doesn’t. Instead he rubs his thumb on the back of Cas’ hand and stares at his friends dark hair that never seems to be able to be tamed and let’s himself pretend like it’s a possibility.
“Your dad isn’t going to be around forever, and once you and I get out of this dump we don’t ever have to come back.”
Dean snorts, shaking his head and looking forward. “‘Course we do. I still got Sammy to see and you got your parents.”
Cas shrugs and glances over to him. “Then we stay at my parents and Sammy can stay the weekend. You don’t ever have to set foot in that house again.”
The warm wind blows around them as their seat reaches the top, clear of any other obstacle. Dean’s breath hitches as he looks out over the grounds trying to take in all the lights, people milling about and noises. Castiel squeezes his hand, leaning forward just a little bit to look around. Slowly, the Ferris wheel groans as they continue on their decent.
“It’s not just my dad,” Dean finally says as he looks down at their joined hands. “This shit isn’t… We’re not suppose to…”
“Who says?” Cas says forcefully. “I’ve seen the way you look at me, Dean.” He ducks his head and catches Dean’s eyes. “You didn’t move your hand when I touched you. You think you’re the only one in this? How many times I gotta tell you that you’re not the only one who wants this.”
“You made out with Hannah last week. Pretty sure I’m not what you want,” Dean forces a stale laugh and smile that by the look on Cas’ face must look more like a grimace.
“Mm,” Castiel hums, shifting to sit more sideways in the cart so they’re facing each other. “And who do you think I was thinking of the whole time I was kissing her? Do you I got hard thinking of what it would be like pressed up against you, sucking on at tongue that’s so quick to say all your flaws.”
Dean hears his throat click as he tries to swallow, moving his free hand to press down on where his pants were suddenly becoming a little too tight. “C-Cas, you just can’t say shit like that!”
“Who says?” Castiel says, his breath falling over Dean’s lips.
At some point they moved closer, or maybe it was just Cas, but either way they were so close the tiniest movement would knock their lips together. Castiel’s blue eyes were looked onto his, dark and full of wild mischief like always, but there was something more. Something deeper that Dean couldn’t quite figure what it was. The groaning of the wheel moving them around and the noise of the people faded into nothing as Castiel’s lips just brushed Dean’s the tiniest bit.
It was almost as it was his way of asking permission. Something a rebellious boy like Castiel rarely did. To Dean, that barely there touch was enough to send fires of want and need through his veins faster than he could process. He gasps a little before surging forward with enough force, Castiel lets out a “mmph” noise, his back hitting the back of the cart with his force.
The kiss starts out chaste as most first kisses do. It begins to move into something more as both of them begin testing the waters. Little nips that has both of them grinning long enough just to part for a moment. Next is their tongues teasing on each other’s lips. Dean doesn’t even try and stop a moan as Castiel takes his tongue into his mouth and sucks on it.
When they do part, they’re both breathless. At some point Dean realizes he must have moved, though he doesn’t remember it. He’s half sitting, half leaning into Castiel’s lap, and his knee is starting to hurt from being pressed against the side of the cart while the other, awkwardly, is being pushed against the metal bar that separates them from falling. Almost bashfully, which makes no sense after the amazing kiss (or kisses) they just had, Dean moves to get back in seat correctly.
At some point their cart seems to have stopped close to the top, and it sways dangerously as Dean moves. He puts his hand on the bar to try and balance as Castiel tips his head back, eyes crinkling as he laughs happily.
“Out of everything we just did, this makes you blush?” He chuckles, gripping the bar to help pull himself over to his seat. “You’re so adorable when you blush.”
Dean opens his mouth to say something, but it’s the clink of metal that catches it attention and makes him freeze. It all happens so fast, but to Dean time seems to move in slow motion. Castiel’s eyes go wide as Dean scrambles to throw one arm over the back of the seat and throw his other one out for Cas to grab onto. He’s already starting to fall, the momentum of pulling himself forward taking him over the cart. Dean strains forward as best he can while trying to keep his sweaty hands hanging onto the back of the seat as Castiel disappears over the side, the cart swinging violently back and forth.
Dean takes in a shaky breath, shuddering as he looks away from the empty space where the cart should be. Even now he doesn’t remember anything after watching Cas fall. A few years ago Sam finally confessed some events that happened after that night, but even hearing it didn’t jog anything from his memory. Dean had asked for more details, maybe hearing something would spark some sort of memory, but even as Sam gave him detailed events, nothing came.
Apparently it took forty minutes to get Dean off the Ferris wheel. They shut down the ride and had to get a fire truck to get all the kids off. Sam said Dean was screaming for Cas the whole time. According to Sam he broke free of the police officers and firemen and ran up to where Cas fell. Sam said he was the only one able to coax him to come away.
Dean was told that Castiel’s neck had twisted and broken as soon as it hit the first beam, killing him instantly. He knows it suppose to bring him some sort of comfort hearing that, even after all these years, but it doesn’t. Cas is still gone – he’s still dead – and hearing or knowing that doesn’t make it better and doesn’t bring him back.
The whole amusement park had been shut down immediately due to safety concerns, and with it being such a small town, never reopened.
Letting out a shaky sigh, Dean wipes the tears that have been pouring down his face for who knows how long, and puts his fingers to his lips kissing them. He squeezes his eyes shut, tears spilling from them as a sob rips itself from his chest. He places his fingers on the platform of the Ferris wheel and looks up once more at the last place Castiel was known to be alive.
“I love you, Cas,” Dean whispers, brokenly. “Even after all this time. Even now.”
Dean doesn’t linger. He picks himself up and starts walking back towards the amusement park, back to his car. He doesn’t turn around. Somehow he knows that if he will turn around, he would break.
He doesn’t know remember how he makes it to his car, but suddenly he’s blinking and realizing he’s sitting in it. Chewing on his bottom lip he debates his next steps. Turn the key, he listens to the Impala rumble to life as he puts her in gear. Swinging out of the empty parking lot a little too quickly, he slips back onto the highway easily, only then allowing himself one last look of the Ferris wheel in his review mirror.