A Subtle Touch of Grace
Title: A Subtle Touch of Grace
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam/OFC
Warnings: See Master Post for full list of warnings.
Word Count: 9,828
Summary:There are many sayings for the wants of man: you can't always get what you want, you don't know what you want until it's gone, and most importantly, you don't know what you want until you have it. After averting the Apocalypse, a miracle in the form of an Angel-Human Hybrid and the reorganization of Heaven brings Dean and Castiel both closer together and farther apart than ever before. Dean lives with a broken heart and finds Faith in unexpected places, Sam finds the normal life he's always wanted while on a hunt of all places, and Castiel discovers that God was closer than everyone thought.
The author strongly advises having a box of tissues handy during the reading of this chapter.
When Dean first came into this room, the tree outside his window had been a lush green color and the rosebushes that were peeking out from the bottom of the sill were in full bloom. Now the flowers were sad and drooping and the leaves were rimmed in red. He had entered this room, rather ironically, on what should have been his youngest brother's forty-second birthday. It was now the middle of October. Strange how much the world outside could change in just two weeks. Even here, in Missouri, the seasons were changing alarmingly fast. He shifted his position on the bed, which let him see outside the window more. The church on the other side of the road was preparing for an Oktoberfest and the music and smells of good food had been drifting up towards this place all day. He smiled wanly at the sight, wishing the nurses in this hospice would let him go outside. Something about infections and spread of disease or other such bullshit was keeping him indoors. If he was in a damn hospice, why would he worry about getting sick? Everyone here was already terminally ill and an hour of sunshine wasn't exactly going to prove fatal. Well, maybe it could, but fresh air was always a morale booster.
Dean had managed to stay in remission for exactly five years and five months before his cancer returned with a vengeance.
The first time he'd gone in for his chemotherapy sessions, seven years ago, he'd managed to stave off infection and illnesses between rounds. This time however, his luck ran out. Pneumonia combined with anemia, and then there was that nasty flu outbreak in Sioux Falls that started the whole processes of driving him to this place. The leukemia had left him vulnerable to other types of cancer, he knew that. Then, in a true form of the universe deciding to fuck Dean Winchester over one last time, he developed lung cancer. He'd not had a cigarette since he was seventeen and in high school. One cigarette in his entire life and he managed to get lung cancer. The doctors tried to tell him something about his line of work or some kind of bullshit like that. Dean was willing to bet not one of them could change a tire without detailed illustrated directions and someone assuring them every step of the way.
He sighed, coughing slightly as he did so. He had left the house in Sioux Falls under the good care of the Fitzpatricks. Tim had retired from the Marines and with his mechanic background, could easily pick up the job left behind in the Singer Salvage Yard. The collection of books that had been Bobby's prize possession were no longer there. No hunter had called asking for information about a monster in six years. Nowadays, all hunts seemed to be vengeful spirits and demons. Deciding what to do with all those books had been next to impossible for the two Winchester brothers. Selling or donating them seemed wrong and not just because there was always the chance of them being needed again. In the end, Sam had converted a room in his house into a library for the books.
Dean hadn't been to Sam's house since he'd come to Missouri from Sioux Falls in the middle of August. He'd spent a lot of time in the hospital, choosing to be down here rather than up in South Dakota. After five weeks of being there, the doctors pretty much said the cancer had gotten too strong of a hold and while they could put Dean through chemotherapy again, he probably wouldn't make it past stage three. So here he was, supposedly made 'comfortable' and left to die. Well, maybe not completely left, but medication to make him healthy had been replaced with pain killers. He missed the outdoors, he missed seeing his family and he even missed his dog. Scully wasn't allowed to visit him in this place. Nothing here made sense half the time.
He lay back down, resting his hand on his chest, settling against the pillows. “Hey, Sam.”
Sam chuckled from the doorway. “How'd you know it was me?”
“Nurses just finished with dinner. You always stop by on your way home from work and you're usually here right after dinner's over.” Dean slowly turned his head, smiling wanly. “Don't suppose you smuggled in a big ass pretzel from the fair across the street, did you?”
“Sorry.” Sam sighed and sat down in the same chair he'd sat in almost every day for the past three weeks. “I'll bring you one tomorrow.” He smiled half-heartedly. “With or without salt?”
“Now there's a stupid question.” Dean snorted, coughing again. “How was your day?”
“Long.” He rubbed his temple. “I remember all the times you told me this normal life thing sucked. Not all of it's bad - however meeting after meeting over crap I already know sucks.” He took off his glasses and cleaned them on his shirttail. “Now about next week - ”
“Sam, we discussed this already. That play is important to Holly, even though she's tried to pass it off as unimportant because she's got a small part.”
“Dean.”
“Sam.” Dean put as much authority as he could into his voice, which these days, admittedly, wasn't much. “It's her first high school performance. Minor role or major, the damn thing plays three nights along with a matinée on Sunday. If you don't go to at least one of them, you'll be kicking yourself for not being there.” Dean closed his eyes, taking in a few breaths. “Remember how pissed you were at Dad for missing all those soccer games?”
Sam put his glasses back on and leaned back in his seat. “He had his reasons.”
Dean snorted. “Now you're starting to sound like me. Seriously, Sam - I want you to go to that play and there's no point in arguing the point further. I'll get Danny to hide your keys if I have to.”
“You're impossible, you know that?” He rubbed his temple.
“Too late to change now.” Dean chuckled weakly. “How's m' dog?”
“Scully?” Sam shook his head. “She misses you a lot. I'm thinking I may have to smuggle her in here in a few days.”
“She's a service dog, she should be allowed in here.” Dean folded his arms, looking somewhat petulant. “So what if the person she's supposed to be helping is stuck in bed?”
“Yeah, about that. I've been thinking of taking you home with me sometime soon, Dean. I don't like you being here alone.”
“I'd be alone in your house too, Sam. You and Gina both work and the kids are in school all day. Enough kids in our family have come home or woken up to find someone dead in a house already, I'm not adding my corpse to the statistic list.”
“Dean.” Sam sat up, his face stern. “It won't be like that. I've got enough sick time - ”
“Sam, just... just let it go. I'm fine here. Food sucks, but I'm almost past the point of caring.”
“You're just giving - ”
“I'm not giving up Sam. It's not giving up if there's no chance of recovery. You know as well as I do that I am just living on borrowed time.” Dean hated to be that blunt about it, however it was true.
“I want to take you home, Dean. Remember when I told you it was time for me to take care of you? This is part of that.” He watched as his older brother's eyes closed and he made a face like he was in pain. Arguing with Dean was rather one-sided these days, his brother couldn't put up much of a fight.
“Not just yet.” Dean took a few low breaths. “'Nother week or so. Wait until Holly's play is over.”
Sam frowned, trying not to think about how fast November second was approaching. That day was already dark enough in the family's history. “Week after next, Dean, you're coming home. I'll have your room all ready and waiting.” He grinned. “I'll even make sure there's pie after dinner.”
“Yeah.” Dean rubbed his eyes. “Need a nap.”
“Oh, so they're called naps now?” Sam managed a grin.
“Naps are for people under seven and over fifty.”
“Makes sense; one's your physical age and the other is your mental one.”
“If I had the physical age of a seven year old, I wouldn't be lying here.” Dean turned to give Sam a look, a hint of mischief still apparent in his green eyes. “I'd be halfway down the hall and out the door before you even stood up, old man.”
Sam chuckled. “You're barefooted Dean, no way are you going outside without shoes.”
“I'm wearing socks.” He coughed again. “You going to bring Danny with you tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow's Thursday. Of course I am.” Sam stood up and came over to brush his thumb against Dean's forehead. “You get some rest. After I get you out of here, you think you could last for a trip up to Atchison?”
“Atchison?” Dean blinked tiredly. “It'd be nice to sit out on that front porch one last time. Great, now I'm all - ”
Sam kissed his brother's forehead. “You're allowed. I'll see you tomorrow, Dean.”
“Fine, bitch.” He narrowed his eyes a little. “Don't forget that pretzel.”
“I won't, jerk.” Sam grinned. “G'nite Dean.”
“'Night Sammy,” Dean replied as his brother pulled his blankets up to his shoulders, tucking him in comfortably. He was already asleep when Sam pulled his jacket on and walked out of the room.
**
Holly honestly wondered if Scully moved at all during the day. The dog had taken up residence on the rug in the front hallway, not seeming to care she was in the way half the time. She'd move when nudged, but usually just to another place where she could keep her gaze on the front door, head resting on her front paws. She didn't want attention or affection, she didn't even beg for food. All she would do in terms of motion was get up and find someone when she needed to be let outside. The dog was miserable and Holly was willing to bet it was going to stay that way. Uncle Keith had tried to take the dog home with him, but Scully refused to get into his truck and no one had seemed keen on trying to tackle a hundred and twenty pound animal who'd established herself as the single most stubborn Winchester. She crouched down on the rug to give her a rub behind the ears; sadly, just like every other time Holly did it, the dog didn't respond.
“She need to go outside?” a voice called from the kitchen.
“No, mom.” Holly stood up and went into the other room to wash her hands. “Where's Danny?”
“He's got a group project for school, so he's over at Nick's house.” Gina looked up from the gravy she was stirring. “How was practice today?”
“Not bad.” She leaned against the counter, watching her mom. “We had our first run through with lights and everything.”
“Something wrong, Hols?” Gina picked up the pepper grinder.
“Mom, it's not like I don't know what's wrong with Uncle D, so why does everyone keep avoiding the subject?”
“Because it upsets your father, young lady.” She cranked the mill a few times before putting it back down.
“I think the one it's upsetting the most is that dog.” Holly folded her arms, shifting her gaze to her feet. “Are - we're going to keep her, right?”
“I don't think so, sweetie. Scully's not happy here.” She stirred the gravy she was cooking. “She'll be happier up at Sean and Bethany's over in Leavenworth. They're better equipped to take care of her.”
Holly couldn't entirely doubt that, but why then, was the dog still here? And as for not talking about the fact that Uncle Dean was dying, it was just the same as denying something anything was wrong. She still hadn't mentioned it to either of her parents that she was spending her study hall talking to the school counselor. “Why don't the hospice people let us bring the dog for a visit?”
“It's in their rules.” Gina sighed. “Honey, would you set the table please?”
“Sure.” She turned to the cupboard and got out the plates. “Is Danny going to be home for dinner?”
“No, he's going to eat at his friend's house.” She didn't turn around as Holly set the table and the door to the garage opened.
“I'm home!” Sam called from the laundry room.
“Hi, Dad.” Holly replied as Sam came into the kitchen.
“Sam.” Gina said, turning from the stove as he came over and hugged her. “How was your day?”
“Not bad. Dean's looking a little better.”
Holly quickly hid her expression to that statement and went to get the cutlery. “That's good, Dad.”
Sam wasn't fooled, although honestly, he was too tired to bring it up. “How was school today?”
“Fine.” She got the basket of napkins off the counter and went to get the hot pads. “I think my English teacher has an unhealthy addiction to making us memorize things, but other than that, not bad at all.”
“What are you supposed to be memorizing now?” Sam went over and washed his hands before getting out a bag of salad.
“Prepositions.” She shrugged. “Maybe it wouldn't be annoying if I didn't already know all of them.”
“Well, try and be patient with her, half those kids in your class didn't spend their childhoods with their noses planted in the middle of a book like you did.”He started to divide up the salad mix.
“I didn't spend all my time reading!” Holly said, half embarrassed, half proud.
“Just - humor your teacher. She can't be that bad,” Sam said, setting the bowls on the table.
“Can't be worse than the witch I had for a math teacher senior year of college.” Gina shook her head. “Honestly, she treated you like an idiot if you had the nerve to get a problem wrong.” She gave the gravy one last stir. “Sam, could you get the chicken out of the oven, please?”
“Sure. Danny still at Nick's house?” He grabbed some oven mitts.
“Uh huh.” Holly answered as her mom poured the potatoes and gravy into serving bowls and she went to get dressing from the fridge. “Dad, you want Blue Cheese or Italian?”
“Blue Cheese, Hols. Thanks.”
Holly pulled the bottle out of the door, along with the raspberry vinaigrette she and her mom almost always had with their salads. She returned to the table, also carrying the butter dish and set all three items down and then slid into her chair. Her parents might be skirting around the elephant in the house, though by just looking at her dad she knew that the worry of what was happening to Uncle D was getting to him more than he was letting on.
**
The hallways smelled of a combination of Lysol and strong coffee. Some of the rooms kept their doors shut and others were wide open, looking oddly inviting and intrusive at the same time. Hospitals were like that sometimes; the rooms of some patients kept shut to hide and protect those inside and other times leaving the occupants exposed to the rest of the world, as if their privacy was no longer important. The room at the end of one of the corridors was open, its occupant dozing lightly, his breathing uneven in depth yet steady nonetheless. Long ingrained instincts told Dean he wasn't alone in the room any longer and he figured it had to be some new light-footed nurse or something. The hex bag under his pillow was keeping him hidden from any demons that might be in the area and he resolved to just remain asleep while the nurse did whatever checks she was doing. Then again, it could be something else entirely. Dean told himself if he opened his eyes right now and saw the reaper known as Tessa standing by his bed, he was going to die laughing.
“My name isn't Tessa.” There was a soft thud, like a chair had been picked up and set down closer to the bed.
Dean felt a pair of hands take hold of one of his and he slowly opened his eyes. Sitting next to his bed was a young man who looked to be in his late teens or early twenties. He was wearing a white linen shirt that seemed to have a faint hint of silver to it. His hair was black and a bit long, with a slight curl and his features were rather classical looking with a very kind smile. Dean was certain he should know this person and then he caught the young man's eyes. His very green eyes. “Liam?” His voice was raspy.
The angel smiled in response. “Hi, Dad.” Tears were pricking the corners of his eyes. “Sorry it took me so long to get here.”
Dean hadn't been expecting this. Never, never did he think that such a thing would happen, after what Castiel had told him about fledglings and their parents. “How? What...”
Liam leaned over and kissed his dad's forehead. “I missed you too.”
“Yeah.” Dean couldn't stop staring at his son. “You got big.”
Liam pressed Dean's hand against his cheek and just held it there. “You got skinny.”
Dean let out a snort that ended in a cough. “And you turned into a smart-ass.” He smiled. “What, you on spring break or something?”
“Well, most of the other angels in my garrison are off having a 'how to acquire a vessel' lecture.” He smiled. “I don't need to learn how to do that. So here I am.”
Dean uncurled his hand and pressed his palm against his boy's face, tears slipping down his cheeks. “No, guess you don't.” He smiled a little more certainly. “If I had known you were coming, I'd have made sure Sam brought me some Oreos.”
Liam let out a soft chuckle. “It's okay, Dad. Somehow, I don't think they'd taste the same as they used to.”
Dean nodded faintly and closed his eyes for a moment. “You're going to be here for a while, aren't you?”
Liam returned to holding his dad's hand in both of his. “A few days, I think.”
“It was always just a few days.” Dean couldn't keep the petulance out of his voice. “I know I shouldn't have been picky but...”
“It sucked,” Liam finished. “Out loud.”
Dean chuckled weakly and then blinked balefully at his boy. “It did at that.” He coughed again. “I hate being sick.”
“I know, Dad.” Liam squeezed his hand gently. “Can you do something for me?”
“Course, Liam.” Dean opened his eyes, even though keeping them open was starting to seem like quite the effort. “What is it?”
“When you see him, tell Papa that I remember him too. I remember both of you.” He bit at his lip, trying to keep his emotions in check as tears slipped down his cheeks. “I'm going to come and see you when I can. Unfortunately it might not be for a while.”
“Angel time or human time?” Dean managed a weak smile.
“He'll know what I mean.” He reached up and gently brushed his thumb against his dad's forehead, smiling slightly. “You don't have to keep holding on just because I'm here, Dad. I'll see you again before you know it.”
Dean tried to issue a retort, although honestly, he was just too tired to do it. He blinked again, smiling. “You grew up nice.”
“Still would have rather gotten to stay in Sioux Falls a few years.” Liam was aware he was biting his lip again. “Or at least come visit every now and then.”
“Wish you could have visited too.” He let out a breath. “What time is it?”
“Three-fifteen, I think.” Liam moved so that he was sitting on the bed, still holding Dean's hand, smiling faintly. “It's time to go home, Dad.”
“You coming with me?” Dean closed his eyes.
“Told you I had to stay a few days. Think there's some people I have to meet.” His smile strengthened. “Gran already warned me about what a pistol Holly is, so don't worry.”
“Sam'll give you Oreos.” Dean let out a breath. “Always was... good kid.”
“Ssh...” Liam brushed his thumb over the top of his father's hand as he felt his pulse slow and then stop as his soul slipped free from his body. He leaned over and kissed his forehead again. “I'll see you soon.”
*
It happened so abruptly, Castiel was almost knocked flat. One moment he'd been putting the last of the folders of 1864 away and the next, he became aware of just how slow the audio book he was listening to was going. He flicked it off and then he had to catch his breath as his perception of time shifted back to that of an angel and he felt himself being pulled forward, information he'd been cut off from for seventeen years suddenly flooding his mind. Just as he finally managed to get his bearings and straighten up he heard the lock on his door snap and the door opened. He frowned as he saw Chuck - God - standing there. He straightened himself up before speaking. “Father.”
“Castiel.” Chuck came into the room and looked around, almost looking surprised at its contents. “You've done an excellent job in here.” He came into the room and gave the angel a comforting squeeze on the arm. “How much do you have left to do?”
“I have only just finished the fourth year of the war, Father.”
“Well, I'd say you're due for a vacation.” Chuck sighed. “It's not like this war hasn't been over for almost two hundred years.”
“Vacation?” Castiel was confused. “I thought I was to remain...”
“Yeah. Say, couple of years - seven of them or so. Then you can come back, finish up and we can start talking about reassignment. Or you can come back during those years, do a little here, a little there. It shouldn't take you very long to complete this task.” Chuck picked up one of the journals, flipping through it, a sad look crossing his face. “When are they ever going to learn that I never take sides in a war?”
“I don't think they ever will, Father. This is probably due to the fact that nearly all humans hate to admit to being wrong.”
“How very astute of you, Castiel.” Chuck shut the book. “Well, off you go then.”
“Off I go where?” Confusion was starting to set in. Why was he being released after just seventeen years? That was just two years longer than the minimum. He had been certain he was going to be here for at least twenty.
“I think someone's waiting for you.” He smiled. “Go on, no one is going to find you unless you want them to.”
*
Dean leaned against his knees, gazing out into the yard in front of his home. It was a warm June evening and things were just about perfect in his opinion. Liam seemed a lot more interested in catching fireflies than anything and he had to smile to himself as the boy caught one, looked at it for a moment and then let it go. “We can't stay out to much longer, it's getting late.”
“Dad.” The boy grinned. “Just ten more minutes?”
“Five,” Dean responded. “The mosquitoes will be out in full force soon and while they leave you alone, they'd have a buffet with me.”
“You're funny,” Liam replied, turning to chase after another firefly.
Dean straightened up. This wasn't entirely real. It was a memory. This was years ago, a few days before that tornado that happened when Liam and Castiel had visited him in Sioux Falls for the second to last time.
“Some things in this place are real and some are not,” a voice said from behind Dean and he slowly turned, looking up in a state of total shock.
“Cas?” He stood up; somehow the scene in the yard was lost to his vision.
The angel didn't speak, didn't make any attempt at responding other than to close the distance between them and draw Dean into the strongest embrace he could manage. Hugging a soul was so different when it was no longer bound to its earthly form. He could feel Dean's arms close around him, his face pressed against his neck and he could tell the man was weeping. Strange how a soul could still do that in a place where tears were supposedly banished. Just like it had back in his cell, information began pouring from the soul of the man he was holding and into his memory. Names, places, events it was all there, and all of it, the good and the bad, it was all precious to the angel.
Dean had been ill and alone and in his tears had cried out for him.
Dean didn't want to let go, he didn't think he could let go. His hand slid up into Castiel's hair, whimpering at the utter relief and contentment flooding through him right now. It was lame. He knew that he was crying like a girl right now and...
“I don't care,” Castiel whispered against Dean's ear, kissing his temple. “I don't care if you have to stand here and cry for a whole decade. In fact, go ahead and do that if you want to, because I don't think I could let go of you for at least two years.”
Dean let out a shaky chuckle. “Well, my schedule is pretty much empty. So that sounds like a good idea.”
In response, Castiel hugged him tighter. “Still the same old sarcasm, Dean?”
“'Fraid so. You're the one who told me not to change.” Dean nuzzled against the angel's neck.
“So I did.” He kissed Dean's cheek. “So I did.”
**
Somehow, in Sam's mind, a man attending services almost once a week for ten years didn't make them a member of a parish if they hadn't officially joined that church's denomination. However, Pastor Barrie had other thoughts on the matter. Well, somehow when connected with his late brother, the good pastor had patience that rivaled Pastor Jim's had. Sam had known that Dean had done a little of his own funeral planning - although Sam didn't honestly think that religion would take part in it. Pastor Barrie told him it wasn't religion he was talking about, but faith. That and the fact that the man had done his research and years ago, in the chapel on the campus of the University of Kansas, Mary Winchester had gotten her eldest baptized by a military chaplain who was there to give a lecture. Sam, it transpired, had the honor bestowed on him by Pastor Jim at the age of eight months. If it was meant as some kind of protection, it might have worked in his brother's favor and not so in his.
Dean was gone.
Sam had been here before, for the span of four months when his brother went to Hell and his life had become hell, thanks to Ruby. He bit his lip. The demon's name and memory still left a foul and bitter taste in his mouth. Dean was not coming back this time. He was gone and there was nothing he could do to bring him back. His brother's requests were relatively simple in many ways. He'd requested a closed casket and he wanted to be buried in his old leather jacket. The one he'd inherited from Dad. Sam hadn't even known the thing was still around; the jacket had to be almost as old as he was. All he could really focus on was that highly polished mahogany box sitting on the altar with his brother's body locked inside it.
Danny cast a sideways look at his dad sitting next to him, biting his lip at the expression on his face. It was scary to see how shattered his dad looked. He swallowed and looked over his shoulder at the pews that were filling up with people he'd never seen before. It wasn't just people from up in Sioux Falls, he'd met a bunch of those people at Uncle Dean's fifty-third birthday celebration back in January. These were different people. A pair of men he guessed were brothers, the oldest looked a little younger than Aunt Sally. There was a woman who looked to be close to his grandma's age, with a stern expression. Then there was a couple, the man was comforting the woman who was already crying. A dark-haired man who looked oddly calm in this building full of sadness and so many others. Some were idly flipping through a hymnal, others studying the program. He swallowed hard and turned back around as a girl sitting on one of the chairs on the altar rose from her seat, carrying a violin, and walked forward to a music stand. Daniel recognized her - it was Izzy Jacobson. A woman from the choir from up at Holy Spirit in Sioux Falls came up to the lectern, making eye contact with someone in the back and then Izzy began to play.
The 'churchy' songs that were selected for the funeral weren't so much funeral songs, but they'd been the ones Daniel knew were Uncle Dean's favorites from hearing them over the years. The one thing Dean had been adamant about was the fact that he didn't want 'Amazing Grace' played at the funeral. Daniel didn't know why and Uncle D never explained. It was weird, looking at the songs on the list for the ceremony, he didn't recognize a single one.
When the music started, Sam had covered his face with his hand, silently thanking the fact he didn't have to deliver a eulogy, because there was no way he could get through one, not at this point, not ever. This was really happening and he wasn't dreaming. He'd been hoping it was all just one long nightmare since that phone call early Thursday morning. It was now Saturday and it was just - unthinkable. He was only vaguely aware of Gina's arms around his shoulder and his two children clasping his free hand. It didn't seem right, it wasn't fair. Dean, his big brother who'd always done everything he could for everyone; for Dad, for him, for total strangers and in the end, there was nothing any of them could do for him. His brother had been struck down at fifty-three, one year younger than Dad had been.
Liam, who was sitting twelve rows back from his uncle and his family, slowly turned to look across the aisle at a woman who'd been crying into her husband's shoulder almost as long as she'd been sitting down. He tilted his head for a moment and recognized her as Lisa Braeden. The man was named Matt, and he was a doctor. Other than that, Liam didn't bother to glean much from the man's mind.
As he turned his attention away and scanned the rest of the congregation, he knew who all of these people were. They weren't just family members and friends from Sioux Falls. He wasn't one to question the exact mechanics of how all this worked, even though many of them had not seen his Dad in decades, they still found their way here. These were people whom he and Uncle Samuel had saved. People mentioned in the Winchester Gospel. A man whose family had been saved from a poltergeist, a man and his brother who'd been saved from a shtriga, an old man who'd been rescued from a vengeful spirit in a prison, a woman who'd been saved from Azazel as an infant - all these and more. Some were aware of what they'd been saved from, others just knew they'd been rescued from something.
He took a deep breath and turned his focus to the altar, where he could make out a model of a black sixty-seven Impala, a Latin-English dictionary and a shamrock green coffee mug.
A smile pulled at the corner of the angel's mouth. He remembered that mug quite well. “Here Dad, you need this 'cause you don't have any green mugs.” Liam thought of that warm two weeks in the summer of 2011; of catching fireflies, lemonade and cookies; of being in the panic room in the house in Sioux Falls while his dad held him protectively while a tornado ripped through the nearby area. Of how Papa had always made sure to leave when Dad was asleep. Papa said it was because he couldn't stand to see the pain in Dad's eyes when they had to say good-bye. It was, as he put it 'an agony the likes of which cleaves my grace in two,' and Liam had never quite understood until the last goodbye that winter morning seventeen years ago. Now he understood it again.
The sheer pain and loss radiating off the souls in this congregation was incredible. All these people, many of whom his dad hadn't seen in decades, still feeling such misery. Liam thought that perhaps only a handful of people, himself included, had a feeling of peace. The girl who was playing the violin, she understood, and perhaps the good pastor did as well.
Holly managed to avoid weeping until near the very end of the service. There was something called 'reflection time' although it was sort of hard to keep focused on anything much. The cantor had gotten back up and started to sing.
“Come out moon, come out wishing star. Come out, come out, wherever you are...”
It was the first song Holly recognized instantly. It'd taken her at least until the chorus back before the service started to recognize 'Hey Jude'. This song was from Winnie the Pooh. Somehow, Uncle Dean and Winnie the Pooh together just sounded... wrong. She rubbed her nose and heard a few sniffles from behind and next to her.
From his place in the church, Liam sat calmly, trying very hard not to smile at the song he was listening to. He knew it quite well, despite not having heard it in years. Dad used to sing it to him. True, it made for a very melancholy lullaby; however he always understood the concept therein. Truthfully, he'd had a hard time not smiling during most of the service. In those seventeen years since he and Papa left, Dad changed a great deal. There was a great difference between having religion and having faith. The pastor had said as much when he was speaking. Dad had hated organized religion, claiming that there was no guarantee that the one you selected was the right one, not to mention all of them had some rules that made no sense. Pastor Barrie had spoken of someone Liam knew a lot of the people around here were wishing they had known better. Dad, who'd told the good pastor that having faith was better than hope, because if you had faith that things would get better, they would. Hope was an empty thing without faith to back it up. Papa was probably going to be surprised that Dad had become so profound. The illness that had claimed Dad's life was one of the many things mankind was trying to rid itself of. Liam wasn't certain if they'd ever do it. At least in adults. He believed Dad would rather have it be curable only in children than not at all.
Dad. Dad wasn't sick any longer. He'd never be sick again, he'd never grow weary, he'd never have to know any of the things that made human life so utterly difficult and painful. It was something that seemed so unbelievable, the human mind couldn't fully comprehend it. That could be the feelings Liam was getting from various members of the assembly. People who'd rather he was still here, that there would have been more time, more something. That was life and Liam understood it better now than he had that day when he'd asked his papa why he had to work in Heaven but humans didn't. Human life was exactly as he'd always been told it was: hard, dangerous and woefully short, even if one lived for more than a century. After a final blessing the music started again and the tune again was oddly familiar as the cantor began to sing.
“They say there's a place where dreams have all gone. They never said where, but I think I know.” The cantor must have been used to singing at funerals, for her voice hadn't faltered once during the entire service.
Liam glanced down at the program and had to smile at name of this tune, the last song on the list. Going Home. That's where Dad had gone. While Liam was no longer a little fledgling and had outgrown the need for parents, he still felt infused with joy on his dad's behalf.
**
“You are right Dean; this is a very good performance.” Castiel smiled faintly. “I did not think you would appreciate any music besides that classic hard rock you love so much.” He wrapped his arm around Dean's shoulder. “What did you find so impressive about this concert?”
Dean gave him a sheepish look in response. “I owed someone a favor. Third row from the floor, sixth girl on the left.”
Castiel tilted his head, studying the person whom Dean had indicated. It was the girl he'd managed to reach the time that he'd felt Dean's panic through their bond. “Who is that?”
“A girl named Izzy Jacobson. If it hadn't been for her witty sarcasm, chemotherapy sessions would have been ten times worse.” Dean sighed. “Pathetic, I know...”
“No Dean, it's not pathetic at all.” He kissed the man's temple. “Just as I don't think your reason for going to church so many times to be pathetic either.”
“When Pastor Jim finds out how many times I've been to church in the last seventeen years, he's going to laugh so hard, he'll die again.” Dean snorted. “All these kids graduated high school last year... hard to believe, lookin' at 'em as eighth graders.”
“It is remarkable what a difference four years makes.” Castiel sighed slightly.
“Cas, you don't have to answer this, but... what did you do for the past seventeen years?” Dean was genuinely curious. He couldn't think of what construed punishment in Heaven.
“I was filing.” Castiel's shoulders slumped at the memory. “Filing prayers.”
Dean frowned as the scene around them shifted; they were now sitting on the couch in the house in Sioux Falls. “Is that as boring as it sounds?”
“It was... tedious.” Castiel smiled as Dean pulled him close, resting his head against his. “I was given the task of organizing the prayers connected to the American Civil War.”
“That sounds like a nightmare.” Dean closed his eyes, not wanting to let go of the angel.
“Not so much a nightmare as many of the prayers tended to become repetitive. Though I know it could have been far, far worse.” He smiled as he felt Dean hug him. “I would have liked to have finished, unfortunately I still have another year left to do.”
“Yuck,” Dean replied. “Wait, are you going to have to go back?”
“Not for the stint of time that I did before. I am currently... on vacation.”
“Vacation huh?” He nuzzled the angel's neck. “What do you want to do on your vacation?”
“Dean.” Castiel tried to ignore the warmth spreading through him. “Angels don't really take vacations, so I am...”
“You've taken vacations before.” Dean grinned. “If this place works the way you explained it to me, we can pretty much go anywhere in the States, except for Hawaii and Puerto Rico.”
“I was never one for tropical weather.”
“Key West was always nice.”
“You were in Key West in the spring and in the winter,” the angel smiled. “I am sure your opinion would change if you had been there in July or August.”
“Point taken.” Dean smiled. “So what would you like to do on your vacation, Cas?”
“Spend as much time as possible with you.” The angel let out a breath and looked around the room. “You changed the wallpaper in here.”
“I had to - the stuff was starting to peel off the walls.” Dean shrugged. “Technically, I scraped the paper off and then painted what was underneath.” He leaned over and kissed Castiel's neck. “Changed some other things around here too.”
The angel took hold of Dean's chin and smiled. “Such as?”
“A really nice bathtub, among other things.” Dean was still trying to cope with the slight awkwardness of all this. The way scenery changed in Heaven, the way one minute he'd be in some long ago memory with Sam or Dad - and then Cas would be there, a part of the scene and only he could see him. The fact that while his clothes changed, Castiel's remained constant: a tunic like shirt with sleeves and dark pants. He supposed it was some kind of angelic uniform.
Castiel snuggled Dean into his arms, content to just keep holding him for now. “Perhaps later. For now, let's just sit here.”
Dean rested his head against the angel's chest, closing his eyes contentedly. “No objections to that whatsoever.”
Castiel rubbed Dean's back, closing his eyes and smiling. “I'll take you to where I live later. Though I'm afraid we'll have to fly to get there.”
“Not flying, Cas,” Dean said, wincing at the thought.
The angel kissed the top of his head. “You don't have to be scared of flying any longer, Dean. I won't drop you. I'll never drop you.”
**
Holly found it wholly ironic that autumn decided to turn beautiful in the middle of October. Just cool enough to wear only light jackets and for those brave enough, a brief return to sandals. The house was full of family and friends. People had been dropping off food since Thursday afternoon: casseroles, desserts, breads - there was more food in the house now than at the Thanksgiving gatherings the Winchesters had in Atchison, every five years, when every family member went. Mom was probably holding up the best of the four of them, focusing more on helping run things than anything else. Mom had been the same way when her own gran had died back when Holly was nine. She supposed she came in second in the grief department, probably in good part thanks to the fact she'd been talking about it since school started. Maybe it was morbid, the way she'd been bracing herself for Uncle Dean's death, but they'd all known it was coming, no matter how they wanted to deny it. Daniel came next - he'd been clinging to the fragile hope of their uncle making an amazing recovery. Dad, of course, was taking it the worst.
Holly was glad that while there was enough food for a hundred people, there were less than twenty in her house right now. Right now, however, she was content to sit on the front porch with Scully, who'd taken up residence there since they all got back from the cemetery. She gave the dog a sideways glance, Scully merely blinked at her, head still resting on her front paws. “You'll like Sean's house. They've got an enormous back yard for you to run around in and plenty of rabbits to chase and everything.” She rubbed the dog's ears absently. “What am I saying, you've not chased a rabbit or a squirrel since you were a puppy, if you ever did.” She sighed and put her head down on her knees. She didn't know if things would be worse or better when everyone went home. Mom told her she didn't have to go back to school until she felt like it, but Holly didn't know what else she was supposed to do. Everything had changed and there was nothing she could do to change things back.
“I tell you...” She turned back to the dog and her eyes widened in surprise. Scully had sat up, looking alert, the way she used to when she was with Uncle Dean. “What?”
The next moment the dog let out a bark that sounded happy and then sprang to her feet, running down the steps and taking off for the far side of the yard, barking all the while. “Scully!” Holly stood up.
“Scully, come!” She took off after the animal and as she rounded a car in the drive, she saw the dog come to rest in front of a man who was standing at the edge of the drive.
Liam bent down to welcome the dog with a hug, rubbing her back and ears affectionately as she licked at his face. “Hello, hello...” He smiled as he stood, the dog backing off and sitting down, looking up at him expectantly. His gaze went from the dog to the girl standing a few yards away. “Hello to you as well.”
Holly blinked once or twice at the guy. He was easily as tall as her dad, with black hair and he was wearing a dark jacket and a very white shirt. “Uh, who are you?” She watched as the man came up the drive, Scully trotting along side of him, looking revitalized.
Liam drew up close to his cousin, mindful of the fact that he probably shouldn't let onto the fact that he already knew a lot about her. “I'm Liam.”
Holly narrowed her eyes. “You're not funny. You don't sound like you're from New Zealand. Everyone knows that Liam lives in New Zealand.”
“You don't believe that.” Liam stuffed his hands into his pockets. “You know I don't live in New Zealand.”
“Okay - look, I'm not supposed to know that you don't live there. Dad would freak if he knew I knew the truth. Er... Uncle Dean sort of told me about why you didn't visit him when I was thirteen. He said I was old enough to know. However, my little brother doesn't know and I don't want him knowing and...”
“I can fake an accent if needs be,” Liam offered, adding a lilt to his voice. “Provided no one asks me how Gandalf is.”
Holly snorted a laugh, covering her mouth. “I - you've seen those movies?”
“I don't know what book on angels you've been reading, but I don't sit around and play a harp all day.” He rubbed the dog's ears again. “I don't even know how to play a harp.”
“You don't?” She blinked and regarded him for a moment. “So do you play any musical instrument?”
“I play a very mean horn, according to my superiors, although nowhere near as good as my superior's superior.” Liam managed a small grin as he heard the door in the garage open.
“Hols? You out here?” Sam called.
“Yeah, Dad.” She turned towards her father. “Uh, we have a special visitor.” She turned to Liam and whispered, “You're not shy, are you?”
“Who is it, Holly?” Sam wasn't in the mood for games. What he really wanted to do was throw out all of these people and tell them to just leave him and his immediate family alone.
Holly knew her dad could see both of them from where he was standing. “It's Liam, Dad.”
*
Word that the long-lost son of Dean Winchester had shown up on Sam's door spread through the house alarmingly fast. Liam took it mainly in stride and was very glad that the identity of his 'mother' had long become a taboo subject. Telling these people he hatched from an egg in Heaven sounded insane, even to him. Great Aunt Lydia declared him too skinny, Great Uncle Greg said he was too clean and Gina Winchester looked at her nephew like he was a freak. Liam didn't let on to the fact he'd read as much from her mind when she looked him over. Sam was of the opinion that other than the eyes, there wasn't much of Dean in his boy's appearance. Liam found he didn't care for the way his human family looked him over, picking parts from his appearance to compare to relatives. He already had it on good authority - namely Gran Winchester - that he looked almost exactly like her grandfather, save for the messy black hair, which grew like hers except in John Winchester's color. Then again, he seriously doubted any of the assembled family would appreciate the fact that he was picking up their thoughts like they were nothing.
“Are you a vegetarian or something?” Daniel's voice broke into Liam's musings and he turned.
“Pardon me?”
“Are you a vegetarian?” The boy indicated the plate that Liam was holding.
Liam looked down at the plate that Aunt Lydia had forced into his hand and telling him to eat something - and what he'd put on it: strawberries, a small cluster of grapes, a few chunks of cheese, crackers and two of each of the vegetables offered on a platter put together by some well meaning coworker of Aunt Gina's. “No, I am not a vegetarian. I just happen to like certain foods more than others.”
Daniel frowned, studying his cousin. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask him where he'd been for the past seventeen years, but he bit his lip, refraining from that. “I think it sucks you couldn't come and visit sooner.”
“Agreed.” Liam frowned at one of the cubes of cheese he'd selected and ate it. “It completely sucks.” He gave his cousin a small smile. “I don't suppose you know if there are any Oreo Cookies, do you?”
Daniel's eyes lit up. “Oreos? You like those?”
“They are one of my favorite things to eat.”
*
Liam sat placidly at the kitchen table, half-heartedly reading a book. It was more of an appearance thing than anything. If Daniel came in and found him, he'd tell the boy he couldn't sleep. The other three family members, well, they might have some inkling of what he was doing. Although if Holly came down here, he was willing to put up the ruse. He rather lamented the departure of Scully, who'd put up a fuss at having to leave until he'd gotten the dog into the waiting truck and given her one last rub behind the ears. He turned the page as he heard a door open and then footsteps on the stairs, too heavy to be anyone but Sam's. He'd not gotten a chance to talk to him much yet and he knew the imminent conversation was a long time coming.
Sam gave the angel, Nephilim, he reminded himself, a glare as he came into the kitchen and opened a cabinet door and reached to the top shelf. “You don't sleep, do you?”
“No.” Liam decided it was best to keep the ball in his uncle's court. “I do not require sleep.” He winced slightly as the pungent scent of alcohol reached him. He looked up to see Sam come over the table, a tumbler glass full of whiskey in one hand, the bottle of Jack Daniels in the other. He looked up from his book. “I do not mean to intrude on -
“Too late for that,” Sam said with a snort, taking a drink from his glass. “Late showing up too...” His eyes narrowed. “Needed to be here seven years ago, when your father got sick.”
Liam had been expecting this. He folded his hands over the book he been reading. “Seven years ago it was not possible for me to come and see him. I know you cannot hope to comprehend the laws that my father, Castiel, and I are bound to in Heaven. I would very much have liked to have been able to stay, or even visit; unfortunately rules dictated otherwise.”
“Fuck rules.” Sam took another swig of whiskey. “Rules n'ver mattered to Dean.”
“You are mistaking me with your brother, uncle. I am not my dad, just as you are not your father.”
“I don't act like my father.” Sam scooted closer to the table, resting his arm on it. “I'm nothing like him.”
“Oh but you are. Same drive, same singular goal. Just because the two goals were different does not mean that your actions are different.”
“Don't know nothing.” Sam hadn't really come down here to fight. However it wasn't fair, it wasn't right.
“Do not dare to presume my dad had fairness in his life.” Liam couldn't keep the venom out of his voice. “I may have not been here for seventeen years, yet I can clearly see which Winchester made out the best in the end. It was not my dad and it was not Adam. It was you. You are the one who wanted nothing to do with hunting, nothing to do with the rest of your family; all you ever wanted is normal. Now you have normal. I am not a fool, uncle.”
“I buried my brother today, not that that means anything to you, stupid... weird...”
“Those seventeen years for Dean were two hundred years to me. You will have to do much better than that to try and garner my sympathy.” Liam watched the man knock back the remainder of the whiskey in his glass and then pour more of it. “And that amber liquid will not ease your pain.”
“Fuck you.” Sam downed half the glass.
“You always wanted honesty. I am giving you honesty, and it's pissing you off. Because despite all this...” he waved his hand to indicate the kitchen the house at large, “you're still not happy. You still think you deserve more. You're not pissed that your brother is dead, you're pissed that now, after all this time, you have exactly what you've wanted since you were eleven.”
“And what is that?” Sam snarled, the booze starting to get the better of him.
“No overbearing father and no bossy older brother to tell you what to do. That's all you ever wanted, deep down. All your brothers ever wanted was family. To be with their family, to have a family... Adam never got the chance and Dean had his taken from him. And you want to sit there, drown your sorrows in liquor like someone who has nothing. Because deep down, you never wanted to be completely free of family - you just wanted attention. You wanted all of the attention.”
Sam was starting to regret drinking. He couldn't quite remember what an angel banishing sigil looked like or if it'd even work on Liam. “Go away.” Reality came back to him hard and fast when the back of a hand made contact with one side of his face, followed immediately by another blow in the opposite direction. He blinked in utter shock at the boy on the other side of the table who was now standing. In those green eyes, he didn't see Liam - he saw Dean. “You don't know shit about my - ”
“Quit whining.” Liam's voice was a harsh whisper. “Start being grateful for what you do have, rather than what you don't.” His eyes glinted in the semi-darkness of the kitchen. “As for not knowing shit about your dad, I know plenty about John Winchester; just as I know plenty about you. You're still that spoiled little child who almost always got his own way. Except for hunting. You were actually expected to do something besides sit around and read. And that pissed you off. Pissed you off that you had to stand up and not hide under the bed.” Liam knew he was hitting pretty low, but by now he was getting to the point where he didn't care.
Sam was on the verge of issuing a retort when there was a fluttering sound and Liam was gone. “Damn it.” He was about to start back on his glass of whiskey when something occurred to him. The boy had just flown out of here without so much of a good-bye, just like Castiel - and had left with the last word, exactly like Dean would have. How the boy could act just like both of his parents at the exact same time despite their long separation seemed utterly impossible and at the same time, utterly perfect. The whole situation was so completely amusing that he pushed the glass and bottle away and started to chuckle to himself. He glanced over at the book Liam had been reading and began to laugh outright when he saw the title; Taste of Home's Celebration of Pie. 101 Best Loved Recipes of All Time.
Chapter Eight
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam/OFC
Warnings: See Master Post for full list of warnings.
Word Count: 9,828
Summary:There are many sayings for the wants of man: you can't always get what you want, you don't know what you want until it's gone, and most importantly, you don't know what you want until you have it. After averting the Apocalypse, a miracle in the form of an Angel-Human Hybrid and the reorganization of Heaven brings Dean and Castiel both closer together and farther apart than ever before. Dean lives with a broken heart and finds Faith in unexpected places, Sam finds the normal life he's always wanted while on a hunt of all places, and Castiel discovers that God was closer than everyone thought.
The author strongly advises having a box of tissues handy during the reading of this chapter.
When Dean first came into this room, the tree outside his window had been a lush green color and the rosebushes that were peeking out from the bottom of the sill were in full bloom. Now the flowers were sad and drooping and the leaves were rimmed in red. He had entered this room, rather ironically, on what should have been his youngest brother's forty-second birthday. It was now the middle of October. Strange how much the world outside could change in just two weeks. Even here, in Missouri, the seasons were changing alarmingly fast. He shifted his position on the bed, which let him see outside the window more. The church on the other side of the road was preparing for an Oktoberfest and the music and smells of good food had been drifting up towards this place all day. He smiled wanly at the sight, wishing the nurses in this hospice would let him go outside. Something about infections and spread of disease or other such bullshit was keeping him indoors. If he was in a damn hospice, why would he worry about getting sick? Everyone here was already terminally ill and an hour of sunshine wasn't exactly going to prove fatal. Well, maybe it could, but fresh air was always a morale booster.
Dean had managed to stay in remission for exactly five years and five months before his cancer returned with a vengeance.
The first time he'd gone in for his chemotherapy sessions, seven years ago, he'd managed to stave off infection and illnesses between rounds. This time however, his luck ran out. Pneumonia combined with anemia, and then there was that nasty flu outbreak in Sioux Falls that started the whole processes of driving him to this place. The leukemia had left him vulnerable to other types of cancer, he knew that. Then, in a true form of the universe deciding to fuck Dean Winchester over one last time, he developed lung cancer. He'd not had a cigarette since he was seventeen and in high school. One cigarette in his entire life and he managed to get lung cancer. The doctors tried to tell him something about his line of work or some kind of bullshit like that. Dean was willing to bet not one of them could change a tire without detailed illustrated directions and someone assuring them every step of the way.
He sighed, coughing slightly as he did so. He had left the house in Sioux Falls under the good care of the Fitzpatricks. Tim had retired from the Marines and with his mechanic background, could easily pick up the job left behind in the Singer Salvage Yard. The collection of books that had been Bobby's prize possession were no longer there. No hunter had called asking for information about a monster in six years. Nowadays, all hunts seemed to be vengeful spirits and demons. Deciding what to do with all those books had been next to impossible for the two Winchester brothers. Selling or donating them seemed wrong and not just because there was always the chance of them being needed again. In the end, Sam had converted a room in his house into a library for the books.
Dean hadn't been to Sam's house since he'd come to Missouri from Sioux Falls in the middle of August. He'd spent a lot of time in the hospital, choosing to be down here rather than up in South Dakota. After five weeks of being there, the doctors pretty much said the cancer had gotten too strong of a hold and while they could put Dean through chemotherapy again, he probably wouldn't make it past stage three. So here he was, supposedly made 'comfortable' and left to die. Well, maybe not completely left, but medication to make him healthy had been replaced with pain killers. He missed the outdoors, he missed seeing his family and he even missed his dog. Scully wasn't allowed to visit him in this place. Nothing here made sense half the time.
He lay back down, resting his hand on his chest, settling against the pillows. “Hey, Sam.”
Sam chuckled from the doorway. “How'd you know it was me?”
“Nurses just finished with dinner. You always stop by on your way home from work and you're usually here right after dinner's over.” Dean slowly turned his head, smiling wanly. “Don't suppose you smuggled in a big ass pretzel from the fair across the street, did you?”
“Sorry.” Sam sighed and sat down in the same chair he'd sat in almost every day for the past three weeks. “I'll bring you one tomorrow.” He smiled half-heartedly. “With or without salt?”
“Now there's a stupid question.” Dean snorted, coughing again. “How was your day?”
“Long.” He rubbed his temple. “I remember all the times you told me this normal life thing sucked. Not all of it's bad - however meeting after meeting over crap I already know sucks.” He took off his glasses and cleaned them on his shirttail. “Now about next week - ”
“Sam, we discussed this already. That play is important to Holly, even though she's tried to pass it off as unimportant because she's got a small part.”
“Dean.”
“Sam.” Dean put as much authority as he could into his voice, which these days, admittedly, wasn't much. “It's her first high school performance. Minor role or major, the damn thing plays three nights along with a matinée on Sunday. If you don't go to at least one of them, you'll be kicking yourself for not being there.” Dean closed his eyes, taking in a few breaths. “Remember how pissed you were at Dad for missing all those soccer games?”
Sam put his glasses back on and leaned back in his seat. “He had his reasons.”
Dean snorted. “Now you're starting to sound like me. Seriously, Sam - I want you to go to that play and there's no point in arguing the point further. I'll get Danny to hide your keys if I have to.”
“You're impossible, you know that?” He rubbed his temple.
“Too late to change now.” Dean chuckled weakly. “How's m' dog?”
“Scully?” Sam shook his head. “She misses you a lot. I'm thinking I may have to smuggle her in here in a few days.”
“She's a service dog, she should be allowed in here.” Dean folded his arms, looking somewhat petulant. “So what if the person she's supposed to be helping is stuck in bed?”
“Yeah, about that. I've been thinking of taking you home with me sometime soon, Dean. I don't like you being here alone.”
“I'd be alone in your house too, Sam. You and Gina both work and the kids are in school all day. Enough kids in our family have come home or woken up to find someone dead in a house already, I'm not adding my corpse to the statistic list.”
“Dean.” Sam sat up, his face stern. “It won't be like that. I've got enough sick time - ”
“Sam, just... just let it go. I'm fine here. Food sucks, but I'm almost past the point of caring.”
“You're just giving - ”
“I'm not giving up Sam. It's not giving up if there's no chance of recovery. You know as well as I do that I am just living on borrowed time.” Dean hated to be that blunt about it, however it was true.
“I want to take you home, Dean. Remember when I told you it was time for me to take care of you? This is part of that.” He watched as his older brother's eyes closed and he made a face like he was in pain. Arguing with Dean was rather one-sided these days, his brother couldn't put up much of a fight.
“Not just yet.” Dean took a few low breaths. “'Nother week or so. Wait until Holly's play is over.”
Sam frowned, trying not to think about how fast November second was approaching. That day was already dark enough in the family's history. “Week after next, Dean, you're coming home. I'll have your room all ready and waiting.” He grinned. “I'll even make sure there's pie after dinner.”
“Yeah.” Dean rubbed his eyes. “Need a nap.”
“Oh, so they're called naps now?” Sam managed a grin.
“Naps are for people under seven and over fifty.”
“Makes sense; one's your physical age and the other is your mental one.”
“If I had the physical age of a seven year old, I wouldn't be lying here.” Dean turned to give Sam a look, a hint of mischief still apparent in his green eyes. “I'd be halfway down the hall and out the door before you even stood up, old man.”
Sam chuckled. “You're barefooted Dean, no way are you going outside without shoes.”
“I'm wearing socks.” He coughed again. “You going to bring Danny with you tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow's Thursday. Of course I am.” Sam stood up and came over to brush his thumb against Dean's forehead. “You get some rest. After I get you out of here, you think you could last for a trip up to Atchison?”
“Atchison?” Dean blinked tiredly. “It'd be nice to sit out on that front porch one last time. Great, now I'm all - ”
Sam kissed his brother's forehead. “You're allowed. I'll see you tomorrow, Dean.”
“Fine, bitch.” He narrowed his eyes a little. “Don't forget that pretzel.”
“I won't, jerk.” Sam grinned. “G'nite Dean.”
“'Night Sammy,” Dean replied as his brother pulled his blankets up to his shoulders, tucking him in comfortably. He was already asleep when Sam pulled his jacket on and walked out of the room.
**
Holly honestly wondered if Scully moved at all during the day. The dog had taken up residence on the rug in the front hallway, not seeming to care she was in the way half the time. She'd move when nudged, but usually just to another place where she could keep her gaze on the front door, head resting on her front paws. She didn't want attention or affection, she didn't even beg for food. All she would do in terms of motion was get up and find someone when she needed to be let outside. The dog was miserable and Holly was willing to bet it was going to stay that way. Uncle Keith had tried to take the dog home with him, but Scully refused to get into his truck and no one had seemed keen on trying to tackle a hundred and twenty pound animal who'd established herself as the single most stubborn Winchester. She crouched down on the rug to give her a rub behind the ears; sadly, just like every other time Holly did it, the dog didn't respond.
“She need to go outside?” a voice called from the kitchen.
“No, mom.” Holly stood up and went into the other room to wash her hands. “Where's Danny?”
“He's got a group project for school, so he's over at Nick's house.” Gina looked up from the gravy she was stirring. “How was practice today?”
“Not bad.” She leaned against the counter, watching her mom. “We had our first run through with lights and everything.”
“Something wrong, Hols?” Gina picked up the pepper grinder.
“Mom, it's not like I don't know what's wrong with Uncle D, so why does everyone keep avoiding the subject?”
“Because it upsets your father, young lady.” She cranked the mill a few times before putting it back down.
“I think the one it's upsetting the most is that dog.” Holly folded her arms, shifting her gaze to her feet. “Are - we're going to keep her, right?”
“I don't think so, sweetie. Scully's not happy here.” She stirred the gravy she was cooking. “She'll be happier up at Sean and Bethany's over in Leavenworth. They're better equipped to take care of her.”
Holly couldn't entirely doubt that, but why then, was the dog still here? And as for not talking about the fact that Uncle Dean was dying, it was just the same as denying something anything was wrong. She still hadn't mentioned it to either of her parents that she was spending her study hall talking to the school counselor. “Why don't the hospice people let us bring the dog for a visit?”
“It's in their rules.” Gina sighed. “Honey, would you set the table please?”
“Sure.” She turned to the cupboard and got out the plates. “Is Danny going to be home for dinner?”
“No, he's going to eat at his friend's house.” She didn't turn around as Holly set the table and the door to the garage opened.
“I'm home!” Sam called from the laundry room.
“Hi, Dad.” Holly replied as Sam came into the kitchen.
“Sam.” Gina said, turning from the stove as he came over and hugged her. “How was your day?”
“Not bad. Dean's looking a little better.”
Holly quickly hid her expression to that statement and went to get the cutlery. “That's good, Dad.”
Sam wasn't fooled, although honestly, he was too tired to bring it up. “How was school today?”
“Fine.” She got the basket of napkins off the counter and went to get the hot pads. “I think my English teacher has an unhealthy addiction to making us memorize things, but other than that, not bad at all.”
“What are you supposed to be memorizing now?” Sam went over and washed his hands before getting out a bag of salad.
“Prepositions.” She shrugged. “Maybe it wouldn't be annoying if I didn't already know all of them.”
“Well, try and be patient with her, half those kids in your class didn't spend their childhoods with their noses planted in the middle of a book like you did.”He started to divide up the salad mix.
“I didn't spend all my time reading!” Holly said, half embarrassed, half proud.
“Just - humor your teacher. She can't be that bad,” Sam said, setting the bowls on the table.
“Can't be worse than the witch I had for a math teacher senior year of college.” Gina shook her head. “Honestly, she treated you like an idiot if you had the nerve to get a problem wrong.” She gave the gravy one last stir. “Sam, could you get the chicken out of the oven, please?”
“Sure. Danny still at Nick's house?” He grabbed some oven mitts.
“Uh huh.” Holly answered as her mom poured the potatoes and gravy into serving bowls and she went to get dressing from the fridge. “Dad, you want Blue Cheese or Italian?”
“Blue Cheese, Hols. Thanks.”
Holly pulled the bottle out of the door, along with the raspberry vinaigrette she and her mom almost always had with their salads. She returned to the table, also carrying the butter dish and set all three items down and then slid into her chair. Her parents might be skirting around the elephant in the house, though by just looking at her dad she knew that the worry of what was happening to Uncle D was getting to him more than he was letting on.
**
The hallways smelled of a combination of Lysol and strong coffee. Some of the rooms kept their doors shut and others were wide open, looking oddly inviting and intrusive at the same time. Hospitals were like that sometimes; the rooms of some patients kept shut to hide and protect those inside and other times leaving the occupants exposed to the rest of the world, as if their privacy was no longer important. The room at the end of one of the corridors was open, its occupant dozing lightly, his breathing uneven in depth yet steady nonetheless. Long ingrained instincts told Dean he wasn't alone in the room any longer and he figured it had to be some new light-footed nurse or something. The hex bag under his pillow was keeping him hidden from any demons that might be in the area and he resolved to just remain asleep while the nurse did whatever checks she was doing. Then again, it could be something else entirely. Dean told himself if he opened his eyes right now and saw the reaper known as Tessa standing by his bed, he was going to die laughing.
“My name isn't Tessa.” There was a soft thud, like a chair had been picked up and set down closer to the bed.
Dean felt a pair of hands take hold of one of his and he slowly opened his eyes. Sitting next to his bed was a young man who looked to be in his late teens or early twenties. He was wearing a white linen shirt that seemed to have a faint hint of silver to it. His hair was black and a bit long, with a slight curl and his features were rather classical looking with a very kind smile. Dean was certain he should know this person and then he caught the young man's eyes. His very green eyes. “Liam?” His voice was raspy.
The angel smiled in response. “Hi, Dad.” Tears were pricking the corners of his eyes. “Sorry it took me so long to get here.”
Dean hadn't been expecting this. Never, never did he think that such a thing would happen, after what Castiel had told him about fledglings and their parents. “How? What...”
Liam leaned over and kissed his dad's forehead. “I missed you too.”
“Yeah.” Dean couldn't stop staring at his son. “You got big.”
Liam pressed Dean's hand against his cheek and just held it there. “You got skinny.”
Dean let out a snort that ended in a cough. “And you turned into a smart-ass.” He smiled. “What, you on spring break or something?”
“Well, most of the other angels in my garrison are off having a 'how to acquire a vessel' lecture.” He smiled. “I don't need to learn how to do that. So here I am.”
Dean uncurled his hand and pressed his palm against his boy's face, tears slipping down his cheeks. “No, guess you don't.” He smiled a little more certainly. “If I had known you were coming, I'd have made sure Sam brought me some Oreos.”
Liam let out a soft chuckle. “It's okay, Dad. Somehow, I don't think they'd taste the same as they used to.”
Dean nodded faintly and closed his eyes for a moment. “You're going to be here for a while, aren't you?”
Liam returned to holding his dad's hand in both of his. “A few days, I think.”
“It was always just a few days.” Dean couldn't keep the petulance out of his voice. “I know I shouldn't have been picky but...”
“It sucked,” Liam finished. “Out loud.”
Dean chuckled weakly and then blinked balefully at his boy. “It did at that.” He coughed again. “I hate being sick.”
“I know, Dad.” Liam squeezed his hand gently. “Can you do something for me?”
“Course, Liam.” Dean opened his eyes, even though keeping them open was starting to seem like quite the effort. “What is it?”
“When you see him, tell Papa that I remember him too. I remember both of you.” He bit at his lip, trying to keep his emotions in check as tears slipped down his cheeks. “I'm going to come and see you when I can. Unfortunately it might not be for a while.”
“Angel time or human time?” Dean managed a weak smile.
“He'll know what I mean.” He reached up and gently brushed his thumb against his dad's forehead, smiling slightly. “You don't have to keep holding on just because I'm here, Dad. I'll see you again before you know it.”
Dean tried to issue a retort, although honestly, he was just too tired to do it. He blinked again, smiling. “You grew up nice.”
“Still would have rather gotten to stay in Sioux Falls a few years.” Liam was aware he was biting his lip again. “Or at least come visit every now and then.”
“Wish you could have visited too.” He let out a breath. “What time is it?”
“Three-fifteen, I think.” Liam moved so that he was sitting on the bed, still holding Dean's hand, smiling faintly. “It's time to go home, Dad.”
“You coming with me?” Dean closed his eyes.
“Told you I had to stay a few days. Think there's some people I have to meet.” His smile strengthened. “Gran already warned me about what a pistol Holly is, so don't worry.”
“Sam'll give you Oreos.” Dean let out a breath. “Always was... good kid.”
“Ssh...” Liam brushed his thumb over the top of his father's hand as he felt his pulse slow and then stop as his soul slipped free from his body. He leaned over and kissed his forehead again. “I'll see you soon.”
*
It happened so abruptly, Castiel was almost knocked flat. One moment he'd been putting the last of the folders of 1864 away and the next, he became aware of just how slow the audio book he was listening to was going. He flicked it off and then he had to catch his breath as his perception of time shifted back to that of an angel and he felt himself being pulled forward, information he'd been cut off from for seventeen years suddenly flooding his mind. Just as he finally managed to get his bearings and straighten up he heard the lock on his door snap and the door opened. He frowned as he saw Chuck - God - standing there. He straightened himself up before speaking. “Father.”
“Castiel.” Chuck came into the room and looked around, almost looking surprised at its contents. “You've done an excellent job in here.” He came into the room and gave the angel a comforting squeeze on the arm. “How much do you have left to do?”
“I have only just finished the fourth year of the war, Father.”
“Well, I'd say you're due for a vacation.” Chuck sighed. “It's not like this war hasn't been over for almost two hundred years.”
“Vacation?” Castiel was confused. “I thought I was to remain...”
“Yeah. Say, couple of years - seven of them or so. Then you can come back, finish up and we can start talking about reassignment. Or you can come back during those years, do a little here, a little there. It shouldn't take you very long to complete this task.” Chuck picked up one of the journals, flipping through it, a sad look crossing his face. “When are they ever going to learn that I never take sides in a war?”
“I don't think they ever will, Father. This is probably due to the fact that nearly all humans hate to admit to being wrong.”
“How very astute of you, Castiel.” Chuck shut the book. “Well, off you go then.”
“Off I go where?” Confusion was starting to set in. Why was he being released after just seventeen years? That was just two years longer than the minimum. He had been certain he was going to be here for at least twenty.
“I think someone's waiting for you.” He smiled. “Go on, no one is going to find you unless you want them to.”
*
Dean leaned against his knees, gazing out into the yard in front of his home. It was a warm June evening and things were just about perfect in his opinion. Liam seemed a lot more interested in catching fireflies than anything and he had to smile to himself as the boy caught one, looked at it for a moment and then let it go. “We can't stay out to much longer, it's getting late.”
“Dad.” The boy grinned. “Just ten more minutes?”
“Five,” Dean responded. “The mosquitoes will be out in full force soon and while they leave you alone, they'd have a buffet with me.”
“You're funny,” Liam replied, turning to chase after another firefly.
Dean straightened up. This wasn't entirely real. It was a memory. This was years ago, a few days before that tornado that happened when Liam and Castiel had visited him in Sioux Falls for the second to last time.
“Some things in this place are real and some are not,” a voice said from behind Dean and he slowly turned, looking up in a state of total shock.
“Cas?” He stood up; somehow the scene in the yard was lost to his vision.
The angel didn't speak, didn't make any attempt at responding other than to close the distance between them and draw Dean into the strongest embrace he could manage. Hugging a soul was so different when it was no longer bound to its earthly form. He could feel Dean's arms close around him, his face pressed against his neck and he could tell the man was weeping. Strange how a soul could still do that in a place where tears were supposedly banished. Just like it had back in his cell, information began pouring from the soul of the man he was holding and into his memory. Names, places, events it was all there, and all of it, the good and the bad, it was all precious to the angel.
Dean had been ill and alone and in his tears had cried out for him.
Dean didn't want to let go, he didn't think he could let go. His hand slid up into Castiel's hair, whimpering at the utter relief and contentment flooding through him right now. It was lame. He knew that he was crying like a girl right now and...
“I don't care,” Castiel whispered against Dean's ear, kissing his temple. “I don't care if you have to stand here and cry for a whole decade. In fact, go ahead and do that if you want to, because I don't think I could let go of you for at least two years.”
Dean let out a shaky chuckle. “Well, my schedule is pretty much empty. So that sounds like a good idea.”
In response, Castiel hugged him tighter. “Still the same old sarcasm, Dean?”
“'Fraid so. You're the one who told me not to change.” Dean nuzzled against the angel's neck.
“So I did.” He kissed Dean's cheek. “So I did.”
**
Somehow, in Sam's mind, a man attending services almost once a week for ten years didn't make them a member of a parish if they hadn't officially joined that church's denomination. However, Pastor Barrie had other thoughts on the matter. Well, somehow when connected with his late brother, the good pastor had patience that rivaled Pastor Jim's had. Sam had known that Dean had done a little of his own funeral planning - although Sam didn't honestly think that religion would take part in it. Pastor Barrie told him it wasn't religion he was talking about, but faith. That and the fact that the man had done his research and years ago, in the chapel on the campus of the University of Kansas, Mary Winchester had gotten her eldest baptized by a military chaplain who was there to give a lecture. Sam, it transpired, had the honor bestowed on him by Pastor Jim at the age of eight months. If it was meant as some kind of protection, it might have worked in his brother's favor and not so in his.
Dean was gone.
Sam had been here before, for the span of four months when his brother went to Hell and his life had become hell, thanks to Ruby. He bit his lip. The demon's name and memory still left a foul and bitter taste in his mouth. Dean was not coming back this time. He was gone and there was nothing he could do to bring him back. His brother's requests were relatively simple in many ways. He'd requested a closed casket and he wanted to be buried in his old leather jacket. The one he'd inherited from Dad. Sam hadn't even known the thing was still around; the jacket had to be almost as old as he was. All he could really focus on was that highly polished mahogany box sitting on the altar with his brother's body locked inside it.
Danny cast a sideways look at his dad sitting next to him, biting his lip at the expression on his face. It was scary to see how shattered his dad looked. He swallowed and looked over his shoulder at the pews that were filling up with people he'd never seen before. It wasn't just people from up in Sioux Falls, he'd met a bunch of those people at Uncle Dean's fifty-third birthday celebration back in January. These were different people. A pair of men he guessed were brothers, the oldest looked a little younger than Aunt Sally. There was a woman who looked to be close to his grandma's age, with a stern expression. Then there was a couple, the man was comforting the woman who was already crying. A dark-haired man who looked oddly calm in this building full of sadness and so many others. Some were idly flipping through a hymnal, others studying the program. He swallowed hard and turned back around as a girl sitting on one of the chairs on the altar rose from her seat, carrying a violin, and walked forward to a music stand. Daniel recognized her - it was Izzy Jacobson. A woman from the choir from up at Holy Spirit in Sioux Falls came up to the lectern, making eye contact with someone in the back and then Izzy began to play.
The 'churchy' songs that were selected for the funeral weren't so much funeral songs, but they'd been the ones Daniel knew were Uncle Dean's favorites from hearing them over the years. The one thing Dean had been adamant about was the fact that he didn't want 'Amazing Grace' played at the funeral. Daniel didn't know why and Uncle D never explained. It was weird, looking at the songs on the list for the ceremony, he didn't recognize a single one.
When the music started, Sam had covered his face with his hand, silently thanking the fact he didn't have to deliver a eulogy, because there was no way he could get through one, not at this point, not ever. This was really happening and he wasn't dreaming. He'd been hoping it was all just one long nightmare since that phone call early Thursday morning. It was now Saturday and it was just - unthinkable. He was only vaguely aware of Gina's arms around his shoulder and his two children clasping his free hand. It didn't seem right, it wasn't fair. Dean, his big brother who'd always done everything he could for everyone; for Dad, for him, for total strangers and in the end, there was nothing any of them could do for him. His brother had been struck down at fifty-three, one year younger than Dad had been.
Liam, who was sitting twelve rows back from his uncle and his family, slowly turned to look across the aisle at a woman who'd been crying into her husband's shoulder almost as long as she'd been sitting down. He tilted his head for a moment and recognized her as Lisa Braeden. The man was named Matt, and he was a doctor. Other than that, Liam didn't bother to glean much from the man's mind.
As he turned his attention away and scanned the rest of the congregation, he knew who all of these people were. They weren't just family members and friends from Sioux Falls. He wasn't one to question the exact mechanics of how all this worked, even though many of them had not seen his Dad in decades, they still found their way here. These were people whom he and Uncle Samuel had saved. People mentioned in the Winchester Gospel. A man whose family had been saved from a poltergeist, a man and his brother who'd been saved from a shtriga, an old man who'd been rescued from a vengeful spirit in a prison, a woman who'd been saved from Azazel as an infant - all these and more. Some were aware of what they'd been saved from, others just knew they'd been rescued from something.
He took a deep breath and turned his focus to the altar, where he could make out a model of a black sixty-seven Impala, a Latin-English dictionary and a shamrock green coffee mug.
A smile pulled at the corner of the angel's mouth. He remembered that mug quite well. “Here Dad, you need this 'cause you don't have any green mugs.” Liam thought of that warm two weeks in the summer of 2011; of catching fireflies, lemonade and cookies; of being in the panic room in the house in Sioux Falls while his dad held him protectively while a tornado ripped through the nearby area. Of how Papa had always made sure to leave when Dad was asleep. Papa said it was because he couldn't stand to see the pain in Dad's eyes when they had to say good-bye. It was, as he put it 'an agony the likes of which cleaves my grace in two,' and Liam had never quite understood until the last goodbye that winter morning seventeen years ago. Now he understood it again.
The sheer pain and loss radiating off the souls in this congregation was incredible. All these people, many of whom his dad hadn't seen in decades, still feeling such misery. Liam thought that perhaps only a handful of people, himself included, had a feeling of peace. The girl who was playing the violin, she understood, and perhaps the good pastor did as well.
Holly managed to avoid weeping until near the very end of the service. There was something called 'reflection time' although it was sort of hard to keep focused on anything much. The cantor had gotten back up and started to sing.
“Come out moon, come out wishing star. Come out, come out, wherever you are...”
It was the first song Holly recognized instantly. It'd taken her at least until the chorus back before the service started to recognize 'Hey Jude'. This song was from Winnie the Pooh. Somehow, Uncle Dean and Winnie the Pooh together just sounded... wrong. She rubbed her nose and heard a few sniffles from behind and next to her.
From his place in the church, Liam sat calmly, trying very hard not to smile at the song he was listening to. He knew it quite well, despite not having heard it in years. Dad used to sing it to him. True, it made for a very melancholy lullaby; however he always understood the concept therein. Truthfully, he'd had a hard time not smiling during most of the service. In those seventeen years since he and Papa left, Dad changed a great deal. There was a great difference between having religion and having faith. The pastor had said as much when he was speaking. Dad had hated organized religion, claiming that there was no guarantee that the one you selected was the right one, not to mention all of them had some rules that made no sense. Pastor Barrie had spoken of someone Liam knew a lot of the people around here were wishing they had known better. Dad, who'd told the good pastor that having faith was better than hope, because if you had faith that things would get better, they would. Hope was an empty thing without faith to back it up. Papa was probably going to be surprised that Dad had become so profound. The illness that had claimed Dad's life was one of the many things mankind was trying to rid itself of. Liam wasn't certain if they'd ever do it. At least in adults. He believed Dad would rather have it be curable only in children than not at all.
Dad. Dad wasn't sick any longer. He'd never be sick again, he'd never grow weary, he'd never have to know any of the things that made human life so utterly difficult and painful. It was something that seemed so unbelievable, the human mind couldn't fully comprehend it. That could be the feelings Liam was getting from various members of the assembly. People who'd rather he was still here, that there would have been more time, more something. That was life and Liam understood it better now than he had that day when he'd asked his papa why he had to work in Heaven but humans didn't. Human life was exactly as he'd always been told it was: hard, dangerous and woefully short, even if one lived for more than a century. After a final blessing the music started again and the tune again was oddly familiar as the cantor began to sing.
“They say there's a place where dreams have all gone. They never said where, but I think I know.” The cantor must have been used to singing at funerals, for her voice hadn't faltered once during the entire service.
Liam glanced down at the program and had to smile at name of this tune, the last song on the list. Going Home. That's where Dad had gone. While Liam was no longer a little fledgling and had outgrown the need for parents, he still felt infused with joy on his dad's behalf.
**
“You are right Dean; this is a very good performance.” Castiel smiled faintly. “I did not think you would appreciate any music besides that classic hard rock you love so much.” He wrapped his arm around Dean's shoulder. “What did you find so impressive about this concert?”
Dean gave him a sheepish look in response. “I owed someone a favor. Third row from the floor, sixth girl on the left.”
Castiel tilted his head, studying the person whom Dean had indicated. It was the girl he'd managed to reach the time that he'd felt Dean's panic through their bond. “Who is that?”
“A girl named Izzy Jacobson. If it hadn't been for her witty sarcasm, chemotherapy sessions would have been ten times worse.” Dean sighed. “Pathetic, I know...”
“No Dean, it's not pathetic at all.” He kissed the man's temple. “Just as I don't think your reason for going to church so many times to be pathetic either.”
“When Pastor Jim finds out how many times I've been to church in the last seventeen years, he's going to laugh so hard, he'll die again.” Dean snorted. “All these kids graduated high school last year... hard to believe, lookin' at 'em as eighth graders.”
“It is remarkable what a difference four years makes.” Castiel sighed slightly.
“Cas, you don't have to answer this, but... what did you do for the past seventeen years?” Dean was genuinely curious. He couldn't think of what construed punishment in Heaven.
“I was filing.” Castiel's shoulders slumped at the memory. “Filing prayers.”
Dean frowned as the scene around them shifted; they were now sitting on the couch in the house in Sioux Falls. “Is that as boring as it sounds?”
“It was... tedious.” Castiel smiled as Dean pulled him close, resting his head against his. “I was given the task of organizing the prayers connected to the American Civil War.”
“That sounds like a nightmare.” Dean closed his eyes, not wanting to let go of the angel.
“Not so much a nightmare as many of the prayers tended to become repetitive. Though I know it could have been far, far worse.” He smiled as he felt Dean hug him. “I would have liked to have finished, unfortunately I still have another year left to do.”
“Yuck,” Dean replied. “Wait, are you going to have to go back?”
“Not for the stint of time that I did before. I am currently... on vacation.”
“Vacation huh?” He nuzzled the angel's neck. “What do you want to do on your vacation?”
“Dean.” Castiel tried to ignore the warmth spreading through him. “Angels don't really take vacations, so I am...”
“You've taken vacations before.” Dean grinned. “If this place works the way you explained it to me, we can pretty much go anywhere in the States, except for Hawaii and Puerto Rico.”
“I was never one for tropical weather.”
“Key West was always nice.”
“You were in Key West in the spring and in the winter,” the angel smiled. “I am sure your opinion would change if you had been there in July or August.”
“Point taken.” Dean smiled. “So what would you like to do on your vacation, Cas?”
“Spend as much time as possible with you.” The angel let out a breath and looked around the room. “You changed the wallpaper in here.”
“I had to - the stuff was starting to peel off the walls.” Dean shrugged. “Technically, I scraped the paper off and then painted what was underneath.” He leaned over and kissed Castiel's neck. “Changed some other things around here too.”
The angel took hold of Dean's chin and smiled. “Such as?”
“A really nice bathtub, among other things.” Dean was still trying to cope with the slight awkwardness of all this. The way scenery changed in Heaven, the way one minute he'd be in some long ago memory with Sam or Dad - and then Cas would be there, a part of the scene and only he could see him. The fact that while his clothes changed, Castiel's remained constant: a tunic like shirt with sleeves and dark pants. He supposed it was some kind of angelic uniform.
Castiel snuggled Dean into his arms, content to just keep holding him for now. “Perhaps later. For now, let's just sit here.”
Dean rested his head against the angel's chest, closing his eyes contentedly. “No objections to that whatsoever.”
Castiel rubbed Dean's back, closing his eyes and smiling. “I'll take you to where I live later. Though I'm afraid we'll have to fly to get there.”
“Not flying, Cas,” Dean said, wincing at the thought.
The angel kissed the top of his head. “You don't have to be scared of flying any longer, Dean. I won't drop you. I'll never drop you.”
**
Holly found it wholly ironic that autumn decided to turn beautiful in the middle of October. Just cool enough to wear only light jackets and for those brave enough, a brief return to sandals. The house was full of family and friends. People had been dropping off food since Thursday afternoon: casseroles, desserts, breads - there was more food in the house now than at the Thanksgiving gatherings the Winchesters had in Atchison, every five years, when every family member went. Mom was probably holding up the best of the four of them, focusing more on helping run things than anything else. Mom had been the same way when her own gran had died back when Holly was nine. She supposed she came in second in the grief department, probably in good part thanks to the fact she'd been talking about it since school started. Maybe it was morbid, the way she'd been bracing herself for Uncle Dean's death, but they'd all known it was coming, no matter how they wanted to deny it. Daniel came next - he'd been clinging to the fragile hope of their uncle making an amazing recovery. Dad, of course, was taking it the worst.
Holly was glad that while there was enough food for a hundred people, there were less than twenty in her house right now. Right now, however, she was content to sit on the front porch with Scully, who'd taken up residence there since they all got back from the cemetery. She gave the dog a sideways glance, Scully merely blinked at her, head still resting on her front paws. “You'll like Sean's house. They've got an enormous back yard for you to run around in and plenty of rabbits to chase and everything.” She rubbed the dog's ears absently. “What am I saying, you've not chased a rabbit or a squirrel since you were a puppy, if you ever did.” She sighed and put her head down on her knees. She didn't know if things would be worse or better when everyone went home. Mom told her she didn't have to go back to school until she felt like it, but Holly didn't know what else she was supposed to do. Everything had changed and there was nothing she could do to change things back.
“I tell you...” She turned back to the dog and her eyes widened in surprise. Scully had sat up, looking alert, the way she used to when she was with Uncle Dean. “What?”
The next moment the dog let out a bark that sounded happy and then sprang to her feet, running down the steps and taking off for the far side of the yard, barking all the while. “Scully!” Holly stood up.
“Scully, come!” She took off after the animal and as she rounded a car in the drive, she saw the dog come to rest in front of a man who was standing at the edge of the drive.
Liam bent down to welcome the dog with a hug, rubbing her back and ears affectionately as she licked at his face. “Hello, hello...” He smiled as he stood, the dog backing off and sitting down, looking up at him expectantly. His gaze went from the dog to the girl standing a few yards away. “Hello to you as well.”
Holly blinked once or twice at the guy. He was easily as tall as her dad, with black hair and he was wearing a dark jacket and a very white shirt. “Uh, who are you?” She watched as the man came up the drive, Scully trotting along side of him, looking revitalized.
Liam drew up close to his cousin, mindful of the fact that he probably shouldn't let onto the fact that he already knew a lot about her. “I'm Liam.”
Holly narrowed her eyes. “You're not funny. You don't sound like you're from New Zealand. Everyone knows that Liam lives in New Zealand.”
“You don't believe that.” Liam stuffed his hands into his pockets. “You know I don't live in New Zealand.”
“Okay - look, I'm not supposed to know that you don't live there. Dad would freak if he knew I knew the truth. Er... Uncle Dean sort of told me about why you didn't visit him when I was thirteen. He said I was old enough to know. However, my little brother doesn't know and I don't want him knowing and...”
“I can fake an accent if needs be,” Liam offered, adding a lilt to his voice. “Provided no one asks me how Gandalf is.”
Holly snorted a laugh, covering her mouth. “I - you've seen those movies?”
“I don't know what book on angels you've been reading, but I don't sit around and play a harp all day.” He rubbed the dog's ears again. “I don't even know how to play a harp.”
“You don't?” She blinked and regarded him for a moment. “So do you play any musical instrument?”
“I play a very mean horn, according to my superiors, although nowhere near as good as my superior's superior.” Liam managed a small grin as he heard the door in the garage open.
“Hols? You out here?” Sam called.
“Yeah, Dad.” She turned towards her father. “Uh, we have a special visitor.” She turned to Liam and whispered, “You're not shy, are you?”
“Who is it, Holly?” Sam wasn't in the mood for games. What he really wanted to do was throw out all of these people and tell them to just leave him and his immediate family alone.
Holly knew her dad could see both of them from where he was standing. “It's Liam, Dad.”
*
Word that the long-lost son of Dean Winchester had shown up on Sam's door spread through the house alarmingly fast. Liam took it mainly in stride and was very glad that the identity of his 'mother' had long become a taboo subject. Telling these people he hatched from an egg in Heaven sounded insane, even to him. Great Aunt Lydia declared him too skinny, Great Uncle Greg said he was too clean and Gina Winchester looked at her nephew like he was a freak. Liam didn't let on to the fact he'd read as much from her mind when she looked him over. Sam was of the opinion that other than the eyes, there wasn't much of Dean in his boy's appearance. Liam found he didn't care for the way his human family looked him over, picking parts from his appearance to compare to relatives. He already had it on good authority - namely Gran Winchester - that he looked almost exactly like her grandfather, save for the messy black hair, which grew like hers except in John Winchester's color. Then again, he seriously doubted any of the assembled family would appreciate the fact that he was picking up their thoughts like they were nothing.
“Are you a vegetarian or something?” Daniel's voice broke into Liam's musings and he turned.
“Pardon me?”
“Are you a vegetarian?” The boy indicated the plate that Liam was holding.
Liam looked down at the plate that Aunt Lydia had forced into his hand and telling him to eat something - and what he'd put on it: strawberries, a small cluster of grapes, a few chunks of cheese, crackers and two of each of the vegetables offered on a platter put together by some well meaning coworker of Aunt Gina's. “No, I am not a vegetarian. I just happen to like certain foods more than others.”
Daniel frowned, studying his cousin. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask him where he'd been for the past seventeen years, but he bit his lip, refraining from that. “I think it sucks you couldn't come and visit sooner.”
“Agreed.” Liam frowned at one of the cubes of cheese he'd selected and ate it. “It completely sucks.” He gave his cousin a small smile. “I don't suppose you know if there are any Oreo Cookies, do you?”
Daniel's eyes lit up. “Oreos? You like those?”
“They are one of my favorite things to eat.”
*
Liam sat placidly at the kitchen table, half-heartedly reading a book. It was more of an appearance thing than anything. If Daniel came in and found him, he'd tell the boy he couldn't sleep. The other three family members, well, they might have some inkling of what he was doing. Although if Holly came down here, he was willing to put up the ruse. He rather lamented the departure of Scully, who'd put up a fuss at having to leave until he'd gotten the dog into the waiting truck and given her one last rub behind the ears. He turned the page as he heard a door open and then footsteps on the stairs, too heavy to be anyone but Sam's. He'd not gotten a chance to talk to him much yet and he knew the imminent conversation was a long time coming.
Sam gave the angel, Nephilim, he reminded himself, a glare as he came into the kitchen and opened a cabinet door and reached to the top shelf. “You don't sleep, do you?”
“No.” Liam decided it was best to keep the ball in his uncle's court. “I do not require sleep.” He winced slightly as the pungent scent of alcohol reached him. He looked up to see Sam come over the table, a tumbler glass full of whiskey in one hand, the bottle of Jack Daniels in the other. He looked up from his book. “I do not mean to intrude on -
“Too late for that,” Sam said with a snort, taking a drink from his glass. “Late showing up too...” His eyes narrowed. “Needed to be here seven years ago, when your father got sick.”
Liam had been expecting this. He folded his hands over the book he been reading. “Seven years ago it was not possible for me to come and see him. I know you cannot hope to comprehend the laws that my father, Castiel, and I are bound to in Heaven. I would very much have liked to have been able to stay, or even visit; unfortunately rules dictated otherwise.”
“Fuck rules.” Sam took another swig of whiskey. “Rules n'ver mattered to Dean.”
“You are mistaking me with your brother, uncle. I am not my dad, just as you are not your father.”
“I don't act like my father.” Sam scooted closer to the table, resting his arm on it. “I'm nothing like him.”
“Oh but you are. Same drive, same singular goal. Just because the two goals were different does not mean that your actions are different.”
“Don't know nothing.” Sam hadn't really come down here to fight. However it wasn't fair, it wasn't right.
“Do not dare to presume my dad had fairness in his life.” Liam couldn't keep the venom out of his voice. “I may have not been here for seventeen years, yet I can clearly see which Winchester made out the best in the end. It was not my dad and it was not Adam. It was you. You are the one who wanted nothing to do with hunting, nothing to do with the rest of your family; all you ever wanted is normal. Now you have normal. I am not a fool, uncle.”
“I buried my brother today, not that that means anything to you, stupid... weird...”
“Those seventeen years for Dean were two hundred years to me. You will have to do much better than that to try and garner my sympathy.” Liam watched the man knock back the remainder of the whiskey in his glass and then pour more of it. “And that amber liquid will not ease your pain.”
“Fuck you.” Sam downed half the glass.
“You always wanted honesty. I am giving you honesty, and it's pissing you off. Because despite all this...” he waved his hand to indicate the kitchen the house at large, “you're still not happy. You still think you deserve more. You're not pissed that your brother is dead, you're pissed that now, after all this time, you have exactly what you've wanted since you were eleven.”
“And what is that?” Sam snarled, the booze starting to get the better of him.
“No overbearing father and no bossy older brother to tell you what to do. That's all you ever wanted, deep down. All your brothers ever wanted was family. To be with their family, to have a family... Adam never got the chance and Dean had his taken from him. And you want to sit there, drown your sorrows in liquor like someone who has nothing. Because deep down, you never wanted to be completely free of family - you just wanted attention. You wanted all of the attention.”
Sam was starting to regret drinking. He couldn't quite remember what an angel banishing sigil looked like or if it'd even work on Liam. “Go away.” Reality came back to him hard and fast when the back of a hand made contact with one side of his face, followed immediately by another blow in the opposite direction. He blinked in utter shock at the boy on the other side of the table who was now standing. In those green eyes, he didn't see Liam - he saw Dean. “You don't know shit about my - ”
“Quit whining.” Liam's voice was a harsh whisper. “Start being grateful for what you do have, rather than what you don't.” His eyes glinted in the semi-darkness of the kitchen. “As for not knowing shit about your dad, I know plenty about John Winchester; just as I know plenty about you. You're still that spoiled little child who almost always got his own way. Except for hunting. You were actually expected to do something besides sit around and read. And that pissed you off. Pissed you off that you had to stand up and not hide under the bed.” Liam knew he was hitting pretty low, but by now he was getting to the point where he didn't care.
Sam was on the verge of issuing a retort when there was a fluttering sound and Liam was gone. “Damn it.” He was about to start back on his glass of whiskey when something occurred to him. The boy had just flown out of here without so much of a good-bye, just like Castiel - and had left with the last word, exactly like Dean would have. How the boy could act just like both of his parents at the exact same time despite their long separation seemed utterly impossible and at the same time, utterly perfect. The whole situation was so completely amusing that he pushed the glass and bottle away and started to chuckle to himself. He glanced over at the book Liam had been reading and began to laugh outright when he saw the title; Taste of Home's Celebration of Pie. 101 Best Loved Recipes of All Time.
Chapter Eight