Chapter Text
Sam is sitting next to him in the impala half turned on the bench, with his worried puppy-dog eyes trained on Dean. Dean stares straight forward, white knuckling the wheel as if he could avoid this conversation by simply not looking at Sam.
“You gotta promise you’ll try to live a life. I’m not gonna tell you how, just promise me you’ll find what gets you up in the morning. Hold onto that and don’t let go”.
Dean finally turns to his brother, but Sam is in Lucifer’s white suit, and a scarlet stain blooms from his chest as he falls. Down, down into the darkness and there’s nothing Dean can do to catch him.
Dean wakes disoriented and yelling. It takes him a second to get his bearings and figure out that he’s tangled in sweaty motel bed sheets. He feels a rough, warm hand on his forehead and it's familiar, so he doesn’t jerk away. Instead, in the drowsy space between sleep and wakefulness, he allows himself to bask in the comfort of the soothing touch.
“Dean”, says a gravelly voice “I felt your prayer”.
As Dean slows his ragged breathing, Cas moves his hand to cup Dean's cheek briefly before withdrawing. Dean knows this is his cue to blink his eyes open sleepily, and go about his day pretending these soft moments never happened at all. That’s what he should do of course.
But Cas came back. Cas keeps coming back. Every lonely, desperate night when Dean’s head spins with whiskey and he can no longer tell the floor from the ceiling. Every morning he wakes up on another grimy floor surrounded by bottles and his thoughts no longer blurry enough to ignore the empty second motel bed, the empty passenger side of the impala, the empty seat across from him in a late-night diner booth.
The prayers are always accidental. He never remembers praying. But Cas appears every time, filling the empty spaces with low murmurs and gentle hands that pick him off the floor and slide glasses of water across the table.
“Dean”, Cas says again and Dean blinks. Cas’ brow is furrowed, head tilted with concern.
‘Sorry I’m here. Hangover’, he signs clumsily when his throat closes up over the words.
That happens a lot lately. For a while the only thing he could do was pray and the only sound Dean heard for weeks was the rumble of Cas’ voice in response. Cas puts two fingers against Dean’s forehead and his headache vanishes.
Dean stifles the slight disappointment he feels when Cas stands up from the bed. He had been enjoying the hazy morning closeness, but now the day comes rushing in demanding to be dealt with and Dean is still so tired.
He looks around at the filthy room awkwardly. He grabs his jeans from the floor and pulls them on before muddling around the room to clean up. Eventually he runs out of things to keep his hands busy, and Cas is still just standing there watching him intently.
“Would you like breakfast?”, Cas asks finally, “I can fly to that place with the waffles you love”.
He signs along with his words, in an effort to help Dean learn, since there are still times when he finds himself voiceless.
“No don’t go”, Dean says quickly, his voice rough with disuse and hard drinking.
He clears his throat, “Um, we can just go to the diner down the road”.
He looks down and signs ‘I’m not really hungry anyway’.
“Dean. Humans need sustenance, water, and sleep. None of which you are getting in any reasonable quantity”. Cas tries for a stern tone but just sounds sad instead.
Dean rolls his eyes and pushes the angel out the door.
~
With the rising sun, Dean seems to find some energy. They pass a mug of coffee back and forth as Cas watches him alternate speech and sign, animatedly recounting the life of some historical cowboy figure he idolises. Cas isn’t really listening, partly because Dean tells him this story every time they marathon his favourite movies. Mostly though, he just prefers to give his undivided attention to studying Dean.
It has been a long time since he’s seen this twinkling laughter in Dean’s eyes, and it’s been rare lately for Dean to be able to string so many words together out loud. Cas is glad to hear the laughter in his tone.
Cas’ gaze tracks over Dean’s hollowed out cheeks and the bags under his eyes. He is paler than he used to be, and his clothes hang from him where he used to fill them out. He had cajoled Dean into ordering some waffles, but they lay largely untouched in front of him.
The diner is deserted at this early hour and the waitress is engrossed in a book behind the counter. “- so whaddya say we head that way later?”, Dean asks him.
“Ah the case you found. I really shouldn’t stay away from heaven so long Dean. The situation is-”, Cas hesitates, “tense”.
‘Maybe I can help?’, Dean offers, signing.
“With an impending divine civil war?”, Cas asks skeptically.
Dean shrugs warily. “A hunt might get your mind off things”.
Cas sighs heavily, attempting to continue blocking out the clamouring voices of the soldiers under his command, demanding he return. He winces and Dean notices.
“Angel radio?”.
Cas nods, knowing he can’t continue to avoid his responsibilities but hating the way the tenseness creeps back into Dean’s frame.
“Raphael is amassing supporters to stand against me. Dean, he wants to restart the apocalypse and I don’t know how to stop him”, Cas admits breaking the silence that had fallen, as Dean braced himself for Cas to leave.
“I have an idea”, declares an English accent from beside their booth.
Cas and Dean each put a hand on their respective weapons but otherwise nobody moves.
“Missed me?”, Crowley asks, raising his eyebrow.
Cas glares at him and Crowley takes that as his cue to begin monologuing. “As I said, I have an idea to save all our asses. Again”.
Crowley explains his plan to empty Purgatory of monster souls in order to use them to defeat Raphael and secure Crowley’s tenuous position as King of Hell.
“You think we would just go halfsies on all that power?”, Dean asks incredulously.
“You will, if you want my help to find Purgatory. Besides, do you really want anyone else to rule Hell? Devil you know and all that. If you give me that power, I can keep my demons in line. Keep them in Hell, except the ones making crossroads deals with humans stupid enough to summon them. I have plans to remodel anyway, torture is so gauche”.
Cas and Dean exchange a glance. “Do you know how to find Purgatory?”, Cas asks.
“Ah. That’s where you come in, Squirrel. I need a hunter to bring me monsters so I can work my way up the food chain. The only beings that may know how to get to Purgatory are the Alphas”.
At Dean’s confused look, Cas quickly explains, “The Alphas are like the fathers of each monster race. The oldest and most powerful”.
~
Dean can deal with regular old monsters. It’s what he was born to do. He hasn’t really gone on a hunt since he stopped answering Bobby’s calls. Maybe this plan will help him feel like himself again. Sam said to live a life and Dean doubts very much that getting blackout drunk every night, wandering aimlessly across the country, was what his brother had in mind. He can be useful in this war, even if Cas keeps looking at him like he’ll shatter at any moment.
“One more thing to sweeten the deal”, Cas says standing up from the booth. Dean realises that he has nobody to hunt with. Cas has to watch his own back up in Heaven; Dean will be alone again. At Cas’ next words, Dean straightens so fast he feels his back crack and pop.
“Sam. You give me enough souls from hell that I can scare Raphael and rescue Sam from the cage. You need hunters to bring you monsters and the Winchesters work best together”.
Hope shoots up his spine. Dean looks up at Cas, a halo of early morning sunlight illuminating the angel that keeps bringing miracles.
“Done”, Crowley declares pressing his palm against Cas’ chest and Cas’ eyes flare with light as the contract is made and the Hell souls are transferred.
Cas grips Dean’s shoulder, his eyes still glowing faintly. “I’ll be back” he promises, before he and Crowley vanish without another word.
Dean glances at the waitress to check if she noticed but she hasn’t even looked up. Dean nurses a few more cups of coffee as he tries to process the emotional whiplash.
A single thought whirls around his head on repeat. Sam is going to be saved.