Work Text:
Their silence stretches out between them, as long as the deserted Kansas road. Cas keeps his eyes careful on the window, as if looking at Sam or Dean would erase them from existence. As if his appearance here is only a cruel trick of the mind.
But no. They are here. Castiel is here, back where here has meaning, riding through the Great Plains of Kansas, the fields stretching well past the horizon to meet the star-studded sky. Kansas is flat, but it is anything but Empty.
They have been driving for hours, and for all of that time, none of them have said a word. With a start, Castiel realizes he has no idea what happens next. He had never thought there would be a “next” after the Empty.
Still looking out his window, he breaks the silence. “Where are we going?”
The car jerks to the side, and Castiel glances up. Dean is staring intently at him from the rearview mirror. When Cas meets his eyes, Dean doesn’t turn away. The road is deserted, but not looking where they are going at all seems ill advised.
Sam, oblivious (or willfully ignorant, Castiel can’t be sure), jumps in. “I figured we could regroup at the bunker—”
And suddenly Dean is talking over Sam, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. “Just for— I mean— if you wanna go someplace else, Cas, you just, we can go anywhere you want— or, I mean…”
Dean trails off, and his grip on the steering wheel grows impossibly tighter.
Castiel isn’t sure… He isn’t sure what that means.
“Should I find someplace else?” Castiel keeps his breath even. His face neutral. If they ask him to, he will. Of course he will. The world isn’t ending anymore. He’s human. He doesn’t really have an excuse to stay.
“No!”
Castiel turns back toward Dean, tilting his head.
“I mean, you can. You can go anywhere you want. But, uh, the bunker is. Home.”
Dean is still gripping the steering wheel as if it’s a lifeline, as if it’s his anchor to the earth. And still, Castiel doesn’t know what that means. He doesn’t know what’s coiling Dean so tightly around himself, so rigid he could snap. He doesn’t know if he caused all the tension knotting Dean’s shoulders, if there is some way he could reach out and smooth the stress away. All Castiel knows is that his touch doesn’t heal anymore.
Castiel nods.
If Dean wanted, he could ask him to leave. He’s done it before.
Castiel glances back out the window. Maybe Dean will ignore it, the elephant in the room. Those words that were supposed to be his last. Maybe Dean will drown it out with Led Zeppelin and Dr. Sexy and beer, and then, when enough time has passed, they will again be able to sit side-by-side, easy as anything.
That would be better, Castiel thinks.
Dean needn’t worry. Castiel understands. He understands it in his newly human bones, deep and irrevocable. He meant what he said to Dean, had meant it more sincerely than any oath ever uttered, but some small part of him fears that Dean will see it as some… assumption. The idea that Dean could take it as some imposition, as if Castiel is forcing him to address it in some way… It’s enough to make his newly graceless skin itch.
Truly, Dean doesn’t need to say anything. Maybe silence, that blunt instrument he’s grown all too familiar with, will be enough to work past this.
Castiel sits in the silence. He watches the road.