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Dean squints through the windshield, staring out at the blankness of the middle of Arizona. It’s all dusty red and orange, sun-kissed cliffs and bluffs and sand. Lots and lots of sand. The sun in the sky shines down on the Impala, forcing him to open all the windows as far as they’ll go and make him fervently wish that he’d installed the new air conditioning when he had the chance, instead of keeping the one Dad installed decades ago.
Sam is in the passenger seat, fiddling around with the radio because “We can’t listen to the same tape over and over again, Dean.” Cas is in the backseat, alternately complaining about the heat and humming along with snippets of songs that Sam passes on the various channels.
Sam taps the dial, trying to get the station more into focus. It’s playing a newer song, which makes Dean instantly suspicious, but the song is over within thirty seconds. The next song up is a Zeppelin song, so he can’t really complain.
“It’s hot,” Cas says. Dean rolls his eyes good-naturedly.
“Heard you the first time, Cas,” he teases, but pressed the gas pedal a little harder anyway, hoping to create more of a breeze. There was a time that Cas could have snapped his fingers and glared at the sky and everything would have cooled down nicely. Ever since the freak “meteor shower” a few months back, he can’t do any of that anymore.
“I still don’t like it,” he mutters, and goes quiet. Dean chuckles, glancing in the rearview mirror at the ex-angel. He’s wearing one of Dean’s old shirts and a pair of pants that might have belonged to Dean as well, but could have possibly been Sam’s from a long time ago.
“Nobody likes it, Cas,” Sam announces, one arm resting on the scorching hot metal of the Impala’s exterior through the window, long hair blowing every which way. Dean is honestly amazed that Sam can touch the car without yanking his hand away with a shout and third degree burns. Maybe he’s just got a high pain threshold.
“Maybe our next hunt will be in Maine or Minnesota,” Dean offers. Cas grins at him, and Dean grins back. Sam clears his throat like he usually does when Dean needs to watch the road. Reluctantly, Dean turns his attention away from the fallen angel in the backseat.
The song on the radio switches to something Dean’s never heard before. Sam gasps excitedly and turns it up, humming along. Dean rolls his eyes at his brother’s enthusiasm, but even he has to admit that it’s a pretty song. His appreciation only gets higher when the woman starts singing.
Her voice is nothing like what he usually listens to; high and clear and melodious as opposed to repetitive and screaming. It’s beautiful, he things, and quickly stops himself before he gets too mushy. No chick-flick moments.
Sam seems entirely wrapped up in this song, and Cas is listening with rapt attention, so there’s no one to talk to instead of paying attention. Dean rolls his eyes again and keeps driving, not even noticing when he starts noticing the song.
I feel cold in my warmest clothing
Hard to say no to good old self-loathing
And when I dream it is just your hands
Why did you let go why can’t I understand you
Pretty fitting, Dean thinks, considering the events of last year. Purgatory was certainly not a fun time, especially that part at the end where Cas let go of his hand and just let him think it was his fault Cas didn’t get out. He’s over it, of course, but the song still makes him think of what he’d really rather leave forgotten. He glances back at Cas, who has his eyes downcast as if he’s remembering the same thing Dean is.
And I will love you Bluebird
In the dusk when the sun goes down
And I will love you Bluebird
Every morning when the stars all drown
Pretty song, Dean thinks.
And I will love you Bluebird
Every hour of every day
I still love you Bluebird
Until we all fade away
Okay, Dean thinks, maybe the song wasn’t so fitting. He’s certainly not in love with Cas. Obviously… he isn’t… no. He’s not in love with Cas. He’s not… he—
Holy shit.
Dean stops arguing with himself and glances in the rearview mirror again, praying he doesn’t catch Cas’ eye. Luckily Cas is still studying the faded upholstery, but he’s blushing now. And oh no, but Dean thinks he gets it now. He totally gets it.
Oh no.
Sam is staring at him worriedly out of the corner of his eye, so Dean wrenches his gaze back to the road, angrily pressing the gas pedal even further down. The sun is too bright and the dirt is too orange and everything is too everything and he can’t think because he’s just had the largest realization of his life and that song is still playing and it still makes so much sense how is it so relevant what is happening just what—
Dean shuts off his thoughts before he hurts himself, instead focusing on not wrecking the car and killing all three of them. That would be very bad, especially considering what he just—nope, not thinking about it.
It all went wrong just when I got it right
Hard to let go, I still pray every night
Wonder if you’re hurt, wonder if they bleed you
I wasn’t lying when I told you I need you
Sam coughs, clears his throat, and joins in, singing every word and note. And it’s not in the way he usually sings, off-key and cringe-worthy. No, this is honest-to-god singing, complete with rhythm and lilting notes that fit perfectly with the crystal voice of the singer. When Dean looks at him in confusion, Sam only shrugs and hits a high note.
Sam hums along to the final notes and Cas actually joins in, and Dean wonders just how many late-night jam sessions he’s missed out on. When the song’s final notes are over and the singer’s last word disappears into air, Dean has to ask.
“What was that?”
“Bluebird,by Elizabeth Smart. She’s a singer/songwriter. I have a lot of her CDs, actually,” Sam explains, blushing slightly as if he knows Dean’s going to make fun of him for listening to something other than classic rock. When no teasing comes, he looks up. “I’ll let you borrow them, if you want.”
“Yeah, I think I’d like that,” Dean murmurs, trying in vain to refrain from looking at Cas again. He sneaks a glance and sees Cas wiping a tear away from his eye, eyes widening comically when he catches Dean staring at him. Dean blinks in an attempt to tell Cas that he gets it, and he thinks Cas understands. Purgatory can change a man.
The two share a grin, and Dean wonders how he didn’t see this sooner.