DCBB fic - Are You There, Dean Winchester? It's Me ... God - PART ONE
MASTERPOST
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PART ONE
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~~~DEAN~~~
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All Dean Winchester had wanted was a piece of pie.
Just a simple indulgence. It felt like years since he’d been able to allow himself the joy of experiencing. A bit of super sugary fruit and flakey pastry deliciousness. Cherry, apple, blueberry, fucking rhubarb … he didn’t even care. He’d just wanted the damn thing. The curse of the Winchester’s epic bad luck had held true, however, and now his pie opportunities were on the other end of this little run down town and completely unavailable to his mouth.
A salt and burn case, Bobby had said. Easy and under the radar, he had promised. Something to get New and Improved Sam (now with slightly used soul!) back into the game slowly. Instead of jumping straight into whatever world-devouring crisis they’d like to get involved in this week. Civil War in Heaven or the Mother of All That is Creepy and Bad walking the streets. Choices, choices.
So … small town, easy case. Solved in about 2.24 seconds and then the Winchester brothers ambled across the street from their motel to the only diner in town for sustenance and pie. Of course at that exact moment Castiel showed up and shoot everything to shit. Forty-five minutes later, Dean is running circles in a dark warehouse he can’t get out of, being chased by two of Raphael’s lackeys and trying not to trip over the detritus all over the floor.
Dean could hear Raphael speaking to Cas, who was naturally stuck inside an Angel’s trap because as he is a sort of adopted Winchester by this point, his luck has been in a nose dive as of late. He could also hear the sounds of Sammy struggling to get free from the absolute man-mountain angel dickhead that Raphael had brought with him this time. Seriously, what are the requirements of a meat suit to be in Raphie’s gang anyway? Must love steroids and bench pressing small buildings?
Dean’s foot caught on something in the darkness and he tripped and plowed straight into a line of rusted lockers along the wall of the building. Fuckshitfuck. He scrambled to the left and dove under a large metal table and behind some work benches to give him a chance to recover from the fall. He heard the heavy thumping footfalls of his pursuer approach the lockers that still reverberated from his crash into them. Everything else had gone silent.
“Dean Winchester.”
Raphael’s voice boomed in the large empty space. Not as deep as when his meat suit had been a man, but still laden with the ‘don’t fuck with me’ timbre. Dean sucked some air into his lungs as silently as possible and willed his heart to slow. There was a warm pulse in his clenched hand, and he glanced down at the closed fist in curiosity. Everything had happened so quickly, he still wasn’t even sure what Castiel had tossed him.
Right after he’d been trapped by the holy fire and Sam had been tagged by Andre the Giant, Castiel had tossed something at Dean and demanded him to run. When the hunter had paused, Cas had practically flailed in his trap. “Under no circumstances can Raphael be allowed to attain that! Ever! Dean!”
So he’d spun on his heel and took off, even though they’d all known that building had been sealed to prevent escape and they were all stuck inside. Dean grit his teeth. Not exactly sure what kind of miracle you think I’m going to pull out of my ass here, Cas.
“Dean.”
Crap. He’d forgotten about Bitchy McGrumpypants for a split second. He shifted under the table until he could make out the faint glow of the holy fire that held Cas captive, but he couldn’t actually see anyone.
“If you don’t bring that back here, Dean, I will snap your brother’s neck.”
Dean ground his teeth together. It always came back to fucking threats. He was sick to death of fucking threats. Really. Try a new tactic. The thing in his hand pulsed warmly again, and he slowly opened his fist to see exactly with what he was dealing. A glowing ball of light rested against his palm. There was no definition to it, not like the faerie freaks with the nips. It was just a glowing ball of light. Teeny tiny and luminously white against his skin.
He assumed it had to be some kind of weapon from Heaven, just like everything else that Cas and Balthazar were always going ape-shit over. It was kind of a letdown in the ‘super important crap’ department, even for all of Cas’s flailing.
With no warning there were suddenly massive hands grabbing him from behind and he was being hauled to his feet. He gripped the ball of light tightly once more and flung himself backwards to knock his attacker off balance. It was like hitting a brick wall. The dude didn’t even flinch and Dean cursed under his breath. He kicked out with his feet instead, or tried to, but then the other angel dickweed was there and he grabbed Dean’s ankle.
This one looked like he could be Andre the Giant’s little brother, and before Dean could even consider his next move, he was being lifted into the air by his ankle and then slammed back down onto his back. His head ricocheted off the dirty floor and stars exploded across his vision. The next few moments were a bit hazy, but eventually he realized that he was being dragged by the ankle (which now hurt like a mother fucker, thank you very much) back towards Raphael.
Dean’s back screamed in agony, and his head felt like it was in a vice grip, being stepped on by a Clydesdale. He groaned and his ears apparently decided at that moment to start working again, because now the warehouse walls were bouncing echoed shouts of his name. Sammy and Cas were freaking out. Possibly because Dean felt like his brain was leaking out of his ears. Well, that went well.
There was an answering pulse of warmth in his hand, and Dean realized he hadn’t dropped the light. So technically, Raphael didn’t have it yet. So technically, he still had a chance to think of something and not let Castiel down. He just didn’t know how the fuck he was going to do it.
“Hello again, Mr. Winchester.”
Dean opened his eyes slowly to stare straight up at the stern looking woman standing over him. In his peripheral vision he could make out Cas illuminated by firelight, and awkward movements from where Sam was apparently still struggling against Andre. He was having trouble bringing it all into focus, though. Everything was soft and fuzzy, kind of like when the love interests used to show up on the original Star Trek episodes. Right before Mack Daddy Captain Kirk was gonna get down to business.
The back of his head was beginning to feel warm and wet. This might explain why Sam and Cas had sounded so panicked upon seeing him. There was also a total possibility that his back might be broken somewhere, too. Raphael nudged his side with her pointy shoe and he sucked in a breath. She smiled stonily down at him and did it again. There was a noise from somewhere off to the right, and if Dean didn’t know that his hearing was a little wonky at the moment, he might have thought that Castiel had just growled.
“I’ll take what you have in your hand there, Mr. Winchester, if you please.”
The light flared hot and frenzied against his palm. As if it was repeating Cas’s earlier words. Under no circumstances can Raphael be allowed to attain that! Ever! Dean swallowed thickly and licked his lips.
“That’s okay. Think I’ll keep it. We’ve bonded.”
His voice had sounded weak and strained, even to his own ears. Sam paused his struggling and whispered Dean’s name in caution. Sorry, Sammy. Cas said the bad Angel can’t have it. So she can’t have it. Raphael’s already cold face went frigid and she sneered down at him. Time seemed to slow down for Dean as he watched the archangel bend over to either forcibly take the light or snap his neck like a twig. Fuckshitfuck! Think Dean! You fucking moron! Think!
Raphael was almost to the floor when Dean gave up and simply did the only thing that came to mind. He slammed the hand holding the light to his own open mouth and swallowed the little ball of warmth. The immediate searing white hot pain that licked every nerve in his body drowned out Raphael’s cry of rage, and Castiel’s cry of horror. He could feel his mouth open and screaming, but nothing penetrated the roaring sound in his ears. And just before everything went supernova white and he lost consciousness, Dean Winchester had a brief second to think…
All I wanted was one fucking piece of pie.
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~~~SAM~~~
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There are several things that Sam Winchester intrinsically knows about his older brother. Facts and truths gathered over the years to be permanently filed away in the pie-shaped icon named “DEAN” in Sam’s brain. Some of these things are fairly simple. For instance, Dean Winchester is always hungry. If he isn’t hungry, then he’s wounded or sick or emotionally distraught. Not that he’d ever let you know that last one.
In addition, no matter how grotesquely Dean has just stuffed his face with all manner of things fried, greasy and coronary inducing … if there are desserts on the menu … then dessert is on the menu. Sam usually just makes sure there’s something else in the room to watch or read so he doesn’t have to observe his brother orgasm over whatever his favorite pie is that particular day.
Sam also knows that Dean never makes future plans for himself… because Dean doesn’t think he has a future. No matter how much shit is hitting the fan in whatever current messed up situation they find themselves in, Sam will always take any quiet minute he can, to come up with ‘one days’. His ‘one days’ are mostly, ‘One day I’m going to go back to Stanford and finish my education. One day I’m going to find someone and fall in love again. One day I’m going to have 2.5 kids and a Golden Retriever and a gas-guzzling SUV and a mortgage.’
Sure, he understands that the way his life has been going the last couple years, the odds of any of those ‘one days’ actually coming to fruition are slim… -at best. But at least he still thinks them. He still thinks about what he’ll do when he’s free of hunting once and for all. Not that he would actually quit until Dean does. No matter that his brother would never admit it out loud even to himself, but Dean needs him. Needs Sam to make sure he comes back from every hunt. Needs him to stay grounded. Needs someone to take care of and give him a purpose. And since Sam is bound and determined never to let his brother down ever again, if he can help it, he’s going to be that person for Dean. Until something or someone else comes along and Dean finally realizes that he’s done more than his share to help the world, and he deserves the chance to do something for himself.
Sam sincerely hopes for that day to arrive. Not for himself. For Dean. Because his brother doesn’t make any ‘one days’. His ‘one days’ consist of, ‘one day I’m going back to that diner that has the pie slices as big as your face.’ There’s nothing beyond that. Nothing beyond hunting and being on the road. As far as Sam can tell, it’s because Dean completely and unconditionally believes that he’s going to die on a hunt one of these days and that will be the end of it.
It’s alternately terrifying and depressing as hell, and half the time Sam just wants to grab his brother by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. Tell him, ‘You’re not just some disposable waste of flesh and bones that doesn’t deserve to be happy!’ He’s not really sure what Dean would say to that, though. Probably just roll his eyes and laugh and tell him he knows and that Sammy is stupid. The thing is … Dean doesn’t know. He doesn’t. From their father, from other hunters, from demons and angels alike … hell … even from Sam himself when he was soulless … Dean has grasped firmly to an innate sense of worthlessness. Like a barnacle. A barnacle of lewd jokes and carnal desires wrapped around a meaty center of angst and depression.
It’s epically frustrating. Epically.
Especially since Dean is really such an awesome person. Well … when he’s not being a total dick … but that’s beside the point. To the people that mean something to him, he’s kind and caring and loyal to a fault. He would step in front of a bullet to save someone he loved and consider it a job well done. He never asks for anything from anyone and would give you the shirt of his back if he thought you needed it.
Sam has so many memories of his older brother cooking him supper, or packing his lunch for school, having a snack ready for him when they got home. Making sure he got something to eat for breakfast in the morning before heading out. Every toy that came in a box of cereal or Cracker Jacks went to Sam. Even if it was something that Dean really wanted. He always made sure that Sam had whatever school supplies he needed for classes, and that he had a quiet place to study and do homework in whatever run down motel they were staying at temporarily.
In his soul … in his inner core … Sam understands that Dean is his Dad. No matter that there are only a handful of years separating them, Dean is his Dad in millions of ways that John Winchester never was. Not that his Dad didn’t love the hell out of his kids, he did, he was just hardly ever … around. John Winchester was more like a loving uncle that they saw a lot, but was pretty bad about playing favorites. Not too dissimilar to Bobby, tell the truth. Dean was always the constant in Sam’s life, and he knows that he can never pay him back for all the things he’s done for him through the years. Even when Sam betrayed him with Ruby, or was high off demon blood or a soulless freaking monster … he knows that Dean loved him more than anything else in the world. And doesn’t that just make you feel like ever-loving shit?
No matter how many fights they’ve had, how many times they’ve turned away from each other briefly, the heart of the relationship is still there. Sam accepts that he has an almost debilitating fear inside. That even though they’ve both cheated death several times … one day it’s going to be final. One day it’s going to be the real thing, and he’s never going to see Dean again. And Sam is terrified of actually losing his big brother for good.
The thing is, though … that knowing all these truths about Dean Winchester may make a little brother think he truly understands him. However, time and again Sam gets proven monumentally wrong. And that’s the other really big thing that Sam knows about Dean. That sometimes when his brother is out of options, and in a hurry … he will throw the most ridiculously absurd Hail Mary pass to try and get out of a situation. So absurd that Sam will, for just a split second, wonder how on earth they could possibly be related. Case in point? Shoving a possible Weapon of Heaven into your mouth and swallowing.
Seriously. Take back every nice thing Sam just said about him. That was just dumb.
Everything in the world seemed to freeze for the briefest of seconds, before it all came slamming back full force to life. Raphael was spewing angry Enochian words from her mouth like water; her lackeys dropped their arms away from Sam and stared at Dean in shock. There was an echo of power rebounding off the metal walls of the warehouse and causing the hair on Sam’s arms to stand on end.
Cas, though … Cas had cried out Dean’s name in such a pained and panicked voice that Sam knew his instincts were correct, and his big brother had somehow just made everything much, much worse. Dean’s body convulsed once after he swallowed, and then screams the like Sam had never heard from a human being were being ripped from Dean’s throat like a freight train.
Sam bent forward to reach for his brother, but Castiel screamed at him to stop. When Sam turned to look at the angel, the smaller man had his gaze firmly attached to Dean’s body, but his hands were frantically gesturing in Sam’s direction. It appeared to be the universal motion for ‘get the hell over here now’, and though he was desperate to go to his brother, erring on the side of millennia’s worth of wisdom would likely be the better decision. Scrambling away from the now slackened fingers of his captors, Sam leapt over the holy fire and was pulled roughly much further into Castiel’s personal space than he felt comfortable with.
“You must stay inside this circle with me, Sam. I think it may be the safest place at the moment.”
Sam returned his gaze to Dean, and was shocked to find that there was luminous white light beginning to stream itself out of Dean’s open, screaming mouth. His eyes began to glow soon after, and the entire thing was so eerily similar to when Castiel would purify a demon out of a body that Sam’s throat convulsively bobbed with nerves.
A deep thundering roar of noise was slowly beginning to drown out Dean’s screams. In his peripheral vision Sam saw Raphael’s henchmen take several steps back. All around them the walls and various equipment of the warehouse began to shake and rattle and fall to the floor. The rumble was now so deep that Sam had to slam his hands over his ears. It almost sounded like hundreds of angry male lions bellowing across the Serengeti from one central location. And if Sam wasn’t mistaken, that central location was his brother.
Cas’ hand clenched in Sam’s jacket as Dean began to slowly lift off the dirty warehouse floor. Like one of those terrible old vampire movies that Sam had loved as a kid, Dean’s heels remained touching the floor, but his board-stiff body slowly eased up into a vertical position. With a sudden ‘SNAP’, Dean closed his eyes and mouth, enveloping the building into instant silence.
Sam could hear the echoing roar of the noise inside his head, similar to when you’ve left a particularly loud concert and you could swear your brain was still vibrating to the tune of the drums. Other than that, there was no noise, and the distinct lack of it was horribly disorientating for a moment. Dean stood absolutely still before them and Castiel’s iron grip on Sam’s jacket loosened by a degree or two.
Raphael took a small step forward towards the elder Winchester and Sam sucked in a breath and held it. As if he could sense the archangel closing in, Dean’s eyes slowly opened once more. The white glow was still there but it was a more muted version of the previous. It was highly disturbing to Sam that he couldn’t find Dean’s eyes in the glow. Too reminiscent of Lilith. Not a nice thought.
A slight smile tugged at the corners of Dean’s mouth and he slowly raised an arm to hold it in front of him. Curling his middle finger towards his thumb, the hunter made a quick flicking motion with his fingers, the kind you might make when knocking away a grain of rice atop a table. In that exact second … Raphael was gone. Flung instantly into oblivion with as much consideration and care as you would give that annoying little grain of rice.
Sam blinked at the sudden vanishing act, and then turned his head when the angels that had been to his left immediately vacated the premises. Dean titled his head slightly to the left at the empty space where they had been, then shrugged his shoulders slightly like it really wasn’t worth the trouble.
Castiel’s hands had dropped away from Sam at last as he took a step closer to the edge of the circle.
“Dean?”
Sam belatedly realized that he was still holding his breath and released it slowly. He followed Cas’ lead and took a step closer to the edge of flames. Dean slowly turned his head to direct his gaze at them. There was absolutely no emotion on his face, and for Dean Winchester that was atypical. Sam reflected that his brother always had something written across his features. Whether it was humor or disgust, anger or sadness, betrayal or determination … there was always something. This empty blankness was disconcerting.
Dean took a single step toward them and Cas shot his arm out to latch on to Sam’s jacket once more. Sam figured he was preparing to get them both the hell out of Dodge if things where about to go badly, but it wasn’t like they could do anything while Cas was still trapped inside the ring of fire. Cas licked his lips once before speaking again, and to Sam it was a blaring tell of Cas’ nerves. This didn’t exactly instill any confidence in the younger Winchester.
“Dean. Could you please put out this fire?”
Sam swallowed as his brother’s gaze moved from Cas’ face down to the floor where the holy oil was still burning merrily along with no mind to their struggles. Dean cocked his head slightly and blinked slowly. Suddenly the fire was gone. Not so much snuffed out as … wiped from existence. Okay, that was really fucking creepy. Castiel took a single step closer to Dean, now that the fire was out, but kept a firm grasp on Sam’s jacket and thus he was forced to move as well.
“Thank you, Dean.”
Cas’ voice was even and quiet, much like someone speaking to an extremely spooked animal, trying to keep them calm and still. Castiel, and therefore Sam, took a couple slow steps closer to Dean until they were within arms reach of the older Winchester. Dean just continued to watch them blankly with his luminous eyes. Sam realized that the light was casting an ethereal blue glow to his brother’s face, throwing his cheekbones and lips into stark contrast with deep purple shadows.
Sam finally risked turning to Castiel and whispered close to his ear.
“Cas … what the hell is going on?”
The angel blinked, but didn’t turn his gaze away from Dean. His eyes were wide and bright, filled with something that closely resembled awe. His voice was soft when he answered.
“Can you not see it, Sam?”
Sam turned back to his brother before he shook his head slightly. The glowing eye thing was cool, but nothing so awe-inspiring to cause that look in Castiel’s gaze. There was a soft pressure of fingertips against his temple, which he supposed must have been Castiel’s, and then there was a sudden explosion of light around him. He closed his eyes against the glare on instinct. Tears had immediately begun to fall at the brightness.
“It’s okay, Sam. I’m only showing you what I see … it will not damage your eyes in any way.”
Sam nodded and carefully opened his eyes. The glare died down rather quickly, and he could dimly make out the dark shape that was his brother standing before them. Same ripped up jeans, dirty boots and worn jacket … but the rest … the rest was unbelievable.
To use the term “beautiful” when referring to your own elder brother, who raised you in lieu of your parents, and whom you knew more disgusting and detailed facts about than you ever really wanted to … was not something that Sam Winchester ever figured he would do. However, his first immediate reaction to the sight before him was to whisper the word in reverence under his breath.
Dean’s entire body seemed to be backlit by a giant spotlight made of shifting colors. Deep hues of purple and blue in contrast with incandescent shades of yellow and gold. Great, sweeping rays of brilliant light were emanating from the crown of his head and arching away from him to encompass the entire building. They shifted and moved as if alive. As if the lights themselves were opalescent somehow. Ribbons of muted lightening tracked away from Dean’s body and danced over the surfaces of various objects surrounding them. They were iridescent and glimmering and likely the most beautiful thing Sam Winchester had ever seen in his entire life.
He heard Castiel whispering beside him, but the angel was merely echoing Sam’s own reaction to the view before them. The fingertips fell away from Sam’s temple and he had to blink several times at the sudden darkness that was in contrast to what he’d been gazing upon the instant before. The image felt like it was burned into his retinas, but true to Cas’ word, there was no pain. Turning to the angel, Sam could feel his own body shaking in nerves. Something was very, very wrong with this entire situation.
“Cas … what was that?”
For a moment, he wasn’t sure if Castiel had even heard him. The shorter man continued to stare, wide-eyed, at Dean. The elder Winchester himself seemed content just to stare back with his empty gaze. Cas licked his lips in nerves once again and Sam vaguely wondered where he might have picked up that particular mannerism from. As if he didn’t know.
“Dean. Do you know who I am?”
Sam returned his attention to his brother, as Dean tilted his head slightly to the side. If we’re going to talk about someone picking up a mannerism from someone else … the Castiel head tilt coming from Dean Winchester would have been extremely amusing at any other moment.
Dean opened his mouth.
“CAS.”
Pain exploded in Sam’s head the moment Dean spoke. He could feel both of his eardrums burst and slammed his hands up to uselessly cover his ears. The warmth of his own blood flowed through his fingertips, and his brain mimicked a bass drum inside his skull. Vaguely, he was aware that all the windows in the building had imploded, and the glass bottles lying amongst the detritus on the floor had practically vaporized.
“WHAT THE HELL, CAS?”
Sam knew he was probably screaming, but it wasn’t like he could really tell the difference at the moment. The angel appeared startled for a second, and then quickly reached over to touch Sam on the temple again. Instantly the pain was gone, and Sam straightened up and allowed his hands to drop away from his ears. Cas cleared his throat.
“We need to get out of this town.”
Sam nodded.
“Agreed. First we need to get back to the motel and-”
In the very next second, Sam found himself standing in the middle of the cheap motel room he and Dean had been rooming in the previous night. He blinked and looked to Castiel. The angel hadn’t touched him. Castiel himself blinked once back at Sam, and as one they turned to look at Dean. Sam cleared his throat.
“Right … let me just pack up our stuff and-”
There was a rustle of noise, and when Sam turned to stare at the bed behind him both his and Dean’s duffels sat there fully packed, where they had not been a moment before. He swallowed audibly and turned back to face Castiel.
“Okay … Cas? I’m going to need an explanation pretty soon here. Like now, preferably.”
The angel sighed and opened his mouth to speak, but never got the chance as the rustle of feathers forewarned another presence in the room even before Balthazar’s voice boomed in the quiet.
“Pardon me, boys, but there’s the strangest rumor-”
His abrupt silence, more so than his abrupt appearance, caused Sam to turn in Balthazar’s direction. When he did, he was met with an almost comical sight. Balthazar was standing in the middle of the motel room, obviously dumbstruck into a temporary muteness, his mouth hanging open as he simply stared at Dean … who just impassively stared back, of course.
“Well … I’ll be damned. It’s true.”
Obviously Balthazar could not be stunned into silence for very long. Castiel tensed beside Sam and refused to meet the other angel’s eyes.
“Yes. It is true.”
Balthazar took a step forward and rested a hand softly on Castiel’s shoulder, but his gaze never wavered from Dean standing before him.
“It kills me to say it … but that really is … quite becoming on him.”
Sam puffed out a laugh almost against his will and tried to keep his knees from shaking beneath him. There was an all encompassing sense of wrong enveloping the entire room and he just wanted to run away as far and as fast as he could. Obviously, this was a completely unacceptable reaction, because his brother needed him, and he needed Castiel’s knowledge to even grasp the situation. The fight or flight instinct, though, was swarming like a dozen bees in his gut.
“Cassie, you’ve got to get him somewhere safe.”
“I know.”
Castiel’s voice trembled just slightly, and Sam concentrated on the two angels before him.
“The word is spreading like wildfire thanks to Raphael’s little minions.”
“I figured as much.”
Balthazar growled under his breath in frustration.
“Then why are you still here?”
“I … don’t know where to go.”
Sam gulped nervously and turned to look at his brother. Dean was still standing stiffly in the same spot as he’d been when they popped back into the motel room. His gaze was firmly on Castiel, as if he was listening to every word the angel’s spoke, but there was no reaction on his face at all. Balthazar’s voice raised a notch at his next words.
“Well then, let Dean take you.”
Sam and Castiel’s gaze both snapped to the taller angel, who simply arched an eyebrow at them.
“Oh for- … don’t look at me as if I’m crazy. If there any of us right now that would know a safe place for him to hide from angels and demons alike, it would be Dean.”
Balthazar cleared his throat and spoke softly in the direction of the elder Winchester brother. His words were filled with much more respect and care than he’d ever used with the ‘lowly’ human brothers before. It caused a shiver of trepidation to wiggle its way up Sam’s spine. If Balthazar was even slightly afraid of Dean for some reason, then this thing… whatever it was … was a BIG deal.
“Dean-o, my love?”
Dean’s white gaze left Castiel and moved slowly to Balthazar, who smiled slightly.
“That’s a dear. Dean, we need to go some place safe. The four of us. Some place very, very, VERY safe. From angels and demons and everything else. Some place no one else can find us. Do you understand?”
Dean blinked and Sam felt the whole world seem to shift from under and around him. He squeezed his eyes closed at the sudden sense of vertigo. When everything seemed to have settled again, he slowly opened them and found himself in the middle of a warmly lit cabin. Worn, chocolate brown leather furniture was arranged around a flickering fireplace. Off to his right was a sparsely furnished kitchen with a high oak table and four well worn chairs. Turning to peek over his shoulder produced the view of a massive, hand-carved oak four-poster bed.
His mouth feeling parched, Sam turned back to his companions. Cas was still looking around the cabin in stunned silence, but Balthazar was grinning at Dean.
“Well done, Dean. Well done. Now don’t forget your precious Impala.”
Dean didn’t react to his words at all, but there was a sudden burst of a familiar car horn from outside the cabin and Balthazar chuckled.
“Oh, Cassie, Cassie, Cassie … my darling little brother. This war is yours for the winning now.”
Cas’ head snapped around to glare at the other angel.
“Don’t be ridiculous. This was not supposed to happen. This is dangerous.”
Balthazar sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes.
“Right. I forgot. Anything to win … as long as it doesn’t hurt precious little Dean Winchester.”
Sam blinked. Castiel curled his upper lip slightly. Dean did nothing. Balthazar took two steps forward to gingerly place a hand on Dean’s shoulder.
“Dean, love. I need to be able to leave this place … but I need to be able to find it again. Do you understand?”
Dean blinked.
“Good boy. Only let the four of us - and perhaps that grouchy old codger surrogate father of yours - freely through the gates. Can you do this?”
Dean blinked again and Sam could have sworn he felt something shift in the air around him. Balthazar chuckled.
“Well done. I must say … I very much prefer you this way. Less talky, more effective.”
Out of nowhere, Castiel’s hand grabbed Balthazar’s wrist firmly and wrenched it away from Dean’s shoulder. The shorter angel’s eyes were lit with an inner fire and his nostrils were flaring just slightly. Sam imagined that most people wouldn’t have noticed the subtle shift to anger in Castiel’s face, but he and Dean had become quite accomplished in picking out Cas’ mood changes.
“Balthazar. Do NOT sell us out to anyone. Do NOT let on that you have even seen us.”
The other angel sighed significantly and let his arm go lax in Castiel’s grip.
“Honestly, Cassie, the utter lack of trust wounds me. Deeply.”
Cas’ lip twitched just slightly, and it made Sam think of Dean. He always called this Cas’ ‘is the Angel gonna have to smite a bitch’ face. The thought of Dean made Sam focus on his brother instead of the family spat going on before him. He walked up slowly to his eerily still brother and ignored the mumbled voices behind him.
“Dean?”
The white gaze shifted towards him and met his eyes straight on. Sam tried to smile as warmly as possible.
“Okay, um, please don’t speak again … out loud, because ouch … but … are you still in there?”
Dean blinked. Sam sighed.
“He’s in there, Sam.”
Sam turned to find Castiel standing by his side, and Balthazar nowhere to be seen. His shoulder’s dropped a bit and let go of a tiny morsel of his tension. Balthazar always made him nervous. He and his crazy whims. Never could predict what that angel would do.
“What’s going on, Cas? Please tell me.”
Castiel nodded solemnly.
“I will tell both of you. Together.”
With those words the angel reached forward with his hand until his fingers brushed along Dean’s temple and across his brow, before pushing firm into the middle of his forehead. One second they were all standing there in a strange sort of silent trinity, and the next Castiel made a slightly pained gasp under his breath, and Dean crumpled like a boneless rag doll to the floor.
PART TWO
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PART ONE
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~~~DEAN~~~
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All Dean Winchester had wanted was a piece of pie.
Just a simple indulgence. It felt like years since he’d been able to allow himself the joy of experiencing. A bit of super sugary fruit and flakey pastry deliciousness. Cherry, apple, blueberry, fucking rhubarb … he didn’t even care. He’d just wanted the damn thing. The curse of the Winchester’s epic bad luck had held true, however, and now his pie opportunities were on the other end of this little run down town and completely unavailable to his mouth.
A salt and burn case, Bobby had said. Easy and under the radar, he had promised. Something to get New and Improved Sam (now with slightly used soul!) back into the game slowly. Instead of jumping straight into whatever world-devouring crisis they’d like to get involved in this week. Civil War in Heaven or the Mother of All That is Creepy and Bad walking the streets. Choices, choices.
So … small town, easy case. Solved in about 2.24 seconds and then the Winchester brothers ambled across the street from their motel to the only diner in town for sustenance and pie. Of course at that exact moment Castiel showed up and shoot everything to shit. Forty-five minutes later, Dean is running circles in a dark warehouse he can’t get out of, being chased by two of Raphael’s lackeys and trying not to trip over the detritus all over the floor.
Dean could hear Raphael speaking to Cas, who was naturally stuck inside an Angel’s trap because as he is a sort of adopted Winchester by this point, his luck has been in a nose dive as of late. He could also hear the sounds of Sammy struggling to get free from the absolute man-mountain angel dickhead that Raphael had brought with him this time. Seriously, what are the requirements of a meat suit to be in Raphie’s gang anyway? Must love steroids and bench pressing small buildings?
Dean’s foot caught on something in the darkness and he tripped and plowed straight into a line of rusted lockers along the wall of the building. Fuckshitfuck. He scrambled to the left and dove under a large metal table and behind some work benches to give him a chance to recover from the fall. He heard the heavy thumping footfalls of his pursuer approach the lockers that still reverberated from his crash into them. Everything else had gone silent.
“Dean Winchester.”
Raphael’s voice boomed in the large empty space. Not as deep as when his meat suit had been a man, but still laden with the ‘don’t fuck with me’ timbre. Dean sucked some air into his lungs as silently as possible and willed his heart to slow. There was a warm pulse in his clenched hand, and he glanced down at the closed fist in curiosity. Everything had happened so quickly, he still wasn’t even sure what Castiel had tossed him.
Right after he’d been trapped by the holy fire and Sam had been tagged by Andre the Giant, Castiel had tossed something at Dean and demanded him to run. When the hunter had paused, Cas had practically flailed in his trap. “Under no circumstances can Raphael be allowed to attain that! Ever! Dean!”
So he’d spun on his heel and took off, even though they’d all known that building had been sealed to prevent escape and they were all stuck inside. Dean grit his teeth. Not exactly sure what kind of miracle you think I’m going to pull out of my ass here, Cas.
“Dean.”
Crap. He’d forgotten about Bitchy McGrumpypants for a split second. He shifted under the table until he could make out the faint glow of the holy fire that held Cas captive, but he couldn’t actually see anyone.
“If you don’t bring that back here, Dean, I will snap your brother’s neck.”
Dean ground his teeth together. It always came back to fucking threats. He was sick to death of fucking threats. Really. Try a new tactic. The thing in his hand pulsed warmly again, and he slowly opened his fist to see exactly with what he was dealing. A glowing ball of light rested against his palm. There was no definition to it, not like the faerie freaks with the nips. It was just a glowing ball of light. Teeny tiny and luminously white against his skin.
He assumed it had to be some kind of weapon from Heaven, just like everything else that Cas and Balthazar were always going ape-shit over. It was kind of a letdown in the ‘super important crap’ department, even for all of Cas’s flailing.
With no warning there were suddenly massive hands grabbing him from behind and he was being hauled to his feet. He gripped the ball of light tightly once more and flung himself backwards to knock his attacker off balance. It was like hitting a brick wall. The dude didn’t even flinch and Dean cursed under his breath. He kicked out with his feet instead, or tried to, but then the other angel dickweed was there and he grabbed Dean’s ankle.
This one looked like he could be Andre the Giant’s little brother, and before Dean could even consider his next move, he was being lifted into the air by his ankle and then slammed back down onto his back. His head ricocheted off the dirty floor and stars exploded across his vision. The next few moments were a bit hazy, but eventually he realized that he was being dragged by the ankle (which now hurt like a mother fucker, thank you very much) back towards Raphael.
Dean’s back screamed in agony, and his head felt like it was in a vice grip, being stepped on by a Clydesdale. He groaned and his ears apparently decided at that moment to start working again, because now the warehouse walls were bouncing echoed shouts of his name. Sammy and Cas were freaking out. Possibly because Dean felt like his brain was leaking out of his ears. Well, that went well.
There was an answering pulse of warmth in his hand, and Dean realized he hadn’t dropped the light. So technically, Raphael didn’t have it yet. So technically, he still had a chance to think of something and not let Castiel down. He just didn’t know how the fuck he was going to do it.
“Hello again, Mr. Winchester.”
Dean opened his eyes slowly to stare straight up at the stern looking woman standing over him. In his peripheral vision he could make out Cas illuminated by firelight, and awkward movements from where Sam was apparently still struggling against Andre. He was having trouble bringing it all into focus, though. Everything was soft and fuzzy, kind of like when the love interests used to show up on the original Star Trek episodes. Right before Mack Daddy Captain Kirk was gonna get down to business.
The back of his head was beginning to feel warm and wet. This might explain why Sam and Cas had sounded so panicked upon seeing him. There was also a total possibility that his back might be broken somewhere, too. Raphael nudged his side with her pointy shoe and he sucked in a breath. She smiled stonily down at him and did it again. There was a noise from somewhere off to the right, and if Dean didn’t know that his hearing was a little wonky at the moment, he might have thought that Castiel had just growled.
“I’ll take what you have in your hand there, Mr. Winchester, if you please.”
The light flared hot and frenzied against his palm. As if it was repeating Cas’s earlier words. Under no circumstances can Raphael be allowed to attain that! Ever! Dean swallowed thickly and licked his lips.
“That’s okay. Think I’ll keep it. We’ve bonded.”
His voice had sounded weak and strained, even to his own ears. Sam paused his struggling and whispered Dean’s name in caution. Sorry, Sammy. Cas said the bad Angel can’t have it. So she can’t have it. Raphael’s already cold face went frigid and she sneered down at him. Time seemed to slow down for Dean as he watched the archangel bend over to either forcibly take the light or snap his neck like a twig. Fuckshitfuck! Think Dean! You fucking moron! Think!
Raphael was almost to the floor when Dean gave up and simply did the only thing that came to mind. He slammed the hand holding the light to his own open mouth and swallowed the little ball of warmth. The immediate searing white hot pain that licked every nerve in his body drowned out Raphael’s cry of rage, and Castiel’s cry of horror. He could feel his mouth open and screaming, but nothing penetrated the roaring sound in his ears. And just before everything went supernova white and he lost consciousness, Dean Winchester had a brief second to think…
All I wanted was one fucking piece of pie.
***********************
~~~SAM~~~
***********************
There are several things that Sam Winchester intrinsically knows about his older brother. Facts and truths gathered over the years to be permanently filed away in the pie-shaped icon named “DEAN” in Sam’s brain. Some of these things are fairly simple. For instance, Dean Winchester is always hungry. If he isn’t hungry, then he’s wounded or sick or emotionally distraught. Not that he’d ever let you know that last one.
In addition, no matter how grotesquely Dean has just stuffed his face with all manner of things fried, greasy and coronary inducing … if there are desserts on the menu … then dessert is on the menu. Sam usually just makes sure there’s something else in the room to watch or read so he doesn’t have to observe his brother orgasm over whatever his favorite pie is that particular day.
Sam also knows that Dean never makes future plans for himself… because Dean doesn’t think he has a future. No matter how much shit is hitting the fan in whatever current messed up situation they find themselves in, Sam will always take any quiet minute he can, to come up with ‘one days’. His ‘one days’ are mostly, ‘One day I’m going to go back to Stanford and finish my education. One day I’m going to find someone and fall in love again. One day I’m going to have 2.5 kids and a Golden Retriever and a gas-guzzling SUV and a mortgage.’
Sure, he understands that the way his life has been going the last couple years, the odds of any of those ‘one days’ actually coming to fruition are slim… -at best. But at least he still thinks them. He still thinks about what he’ll do when he’s free of hunting once and for all. Not that he would actually quit until Dean does. No matter that his brother would never admit it out loud even to himself, but Dean needs him. Needs Sam to make sure he comes back from every hunt. Needs him to stay grounded. Needs someone to take care of and give him a purpose. And since Sam is bound and determined never to let his brother down ever again, if he can help it, he’s going to be that person for Dean. Until something or someone else comes along and Dean finally realizes that he’s done more than his share to help the world, and he deserves the chance to do something for himself.
Sam sincerely hopes for that day to arrive. Not for himself. For Dean. Because his brother doesn’t make any ‘one days’. His ‘one days’ consist of, ‘one day I’m going back to that diner that has the pie slices as big as your face.’ There’s nothing beyond that. Nothing beyond hunting and being on the road. As far as Sam can tell, it’s because Dean completely and unconditionally believes that he’s going to die on a hunt one of these days and that will be the end of it.
It’s alternately terrifying and depressing as hell, and half the time Sam just wants to grab his brother by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. Tell him, ‘You’re not just some disposable waste of flesh and bones that doesn’t deserve to be happy!’ He’s not really sure what Dean would say to that, though. Probably just roll his eyes and laugh and tell him he knows and that Sammy is stupid. The thing is … Dean doesn’t know. He doesn’t. From their father, from other hunters, from demons and angels alike … hell … even from Sam himself when he was soulless … Dean has grasped firmly to an innate sense of worthlessness. Like a barnacle. A barnacle of lewd jokes and carnal desires wrapped around a meaty center of angst and depression.
It’s epically frustrating. Epically.
Especially since Dean is really such an awesome person. Well … when he’s not being a total dick … but that’s beside the point. To the people that mean something to him, he’s kind and caring and loyal to a fault. He would step in front of a bullet to save someone he loved and consider it a job well done. He never asks for anything from anyone and would give you the shirt of his back if he thought you needed it.
Sam has so many memories of his older brother cooking him supper, or packing his lunch for school, having a snack ready for him when they got home. Making sure he got something to eat for breakfast in the morning before heading out. Every toy that came in a box of cereal or Cracker Jacks went to Sam. Even if it was something that Dean really wanted. He always made sure that Sam had whatever school supplies he needed for classes, and that he had a quiet place to study and do homework in whatever run down motel they were staying at temporarily.
In his soul … in his inner core … Sam understands that Dean is his Dad. No matter that there are only a handful of years separating them, Dean is his Dad in millions of ways that John Winchester never was. Not that his Dad didn’t love the hell out of his kids, he did, he was just hardly ever … around. John Winchester was more like a loving uncle that they saw a lot, but was pretty bad about playing favorites. Not too dissimilar to Bobby, tell the truth. Dean was always the constant in Sam’s life, and he knows that he can never pay him back for all the things he’s done for him through the years. Even when Sam betrayed him with Ruby, or was high off demon blood or a soulless freaking monster … he knows that Dean loved him more than anything else in the world. And doesn’t that just make you feel like ever-loving shit?
No matter how many fights they’ve had, how many times they’ve turned away from each other briefly, the heart of the relationship is still there. Sam accepts that he has an almost debilitating fear inside. That even though they’ve both cheated death several times … one day it’s going to be final. One day it’s going to be the real thing, and he’s never going to see Dean again. And Sam is terrified of actually losing his big brother for good.
The thing is, though … that knowing all these truths about Dean Winchester may make a little brother think he truly understands him. However, time and again Sam gets proven monumentally wrong. And that’s the other really big thing that Sam knows about Dean. That sometimes when his brother is out of options, and in a hurry … he will throw the most ridiculously absurd Hail Mary pass to try and get out of a situation. So absurd that Sam will, for just a split second, wonder how on earth they could possibly be related. Case in point? Shoving a possible Weapon of Heaven into your mouth and swallowing.
Seriously. Take back every nice thing Sam just said about him. That was just dumb.
Everything in the world seemed to freeze for the briefest of seconds, before it all came slamming back full force to life. Raphael was spewing angry Enochian words from her mouth like water; her lackeys dropped their arms away from Sam and stared at Dean in shock. There was an echo of power rebounding off the metal walls of the warehouse and causing the hair on Sam’s arms to stand on end.
Cas, though … Cas had cried out Dean’s name in such a pained and panicked voice that Sam knew his instincts were correct, and his big brother had somehow just made everything much, much worse. Dean’s body convulsed once after he swallowed, and then screams the like Sam had never heard from a human being were being ripped from Dean’s throat like a freight train.
Sam bent forward to reach for his brother, but Castiel screamed at him to stop. When Sam turned to look at the angel, the smaller man had his gaze firmly attached to Dean’s body, but his hands were frantically gesturing in Sam’s direction. It appeared to be the universal motion for ‘get the hell over here now’, and though he was desperate to go to his brother, erring on the side of millennia’s worth of wisdom would likely be the better decision. Scrambling away from the now slackened fingers of his captors, Sam leapt over the holy fire and was pulled roughly much further into Castiel’s personal space than he felt comfortable with.
“You must stay inside this circle with me, Sam. I think it may be the safest place at the moment.”
Sam returned his gaze to Dean, and was shocked to find that there was luminous white light beginning to stream itself out of Dean’s open, screaming mouth. His eyes began to glow soon after, and the entire thing was so eerily similar to when Castiel would purify a demon out of a body that Sam’s throat convulsively bobbed with nerves.
A deep thundering roar of noise was slowly beginning to drown out Dean’s screams. In his peripheral vision Sam saw Raphael’s henchmen take several steps back. All around them the walls and various equipment of the warehouse began to shake and rattle and fall to the floor. The rumble was now so deep that Sam had to slam his hands over his ears. It almost sounded like hundreds of angry male lions bellowing across the Serengeti from one central location. And if Sam wasn’t mistaken, that central location was his brother.
Cas’ hand clenched in Sam’s jacket as Dean began to slowly lift off the dirty warehouse floor. Like one of those terrible old vampire movies that Sam had loved as a kid, Dean’s heels remained touching the floor, but his board-stiff body slowly eased up into a vertical position. With a sudden ‘SNAP’, Dean closed his eyes and mouth, enveloping the building into instant silence.
Sam could hear the echoing roar of the noise inside his head, similar to when you’ve left a particularly loud concert and you could swear your brain was still vibrating to the tune of the drums. Other than that, there was no noise, and the distinct lack of it was horribly disorientating for a moment. Dean stood absolutely still before them and Castiel’s iron grip on Sam’s jacket loosened by a degree or two.
Raphael took a small step forward towards the elder Winchester and Sam sucked in a breath and held it. As if he could sense the archangel closing in, Dean’s eyes slowly opened once more. The white glow was still there but it was a more muted version of the previous. It was highly disturbing to Sam that he couldn’t find Dean’s eyes in the glow. Too reminiscent of Lilith. Not a nice thought.
A slight smile tugged at the corners of Dean’s mouth and he slowly raised an arm to hold it in front of him. Curling his middle finger towards his thumb, the hunter made a quick flicking motion with his fingers, the kind you might make when knocking away a grain of rice atop a table. In that exact second … Raphael was gone. Flung instantly into oblivion with as much consideration and care as you would give that annoying little grain of rice.
Sam blinked at the sudden vanishing act, and then turned his head when the angels that had been to his left immediately vacated the premises. Dean titled his head slightly to the left at the empty space where they had been, then shrugged his shoulders slightly like it really wasn’t worth the trouble.
Castiel’s hands had dropped away from Sam at last as he took a step closer to the edge of the circle.
“Dean?”
Sam belatedly realized that he was still holding his breath and released it slowly. He followed Cas’ lead and took a step closer to the edge of flames. Dean slowly turned his head to direct his gaze at them. There was absolutely no emotion on his face, and for Dean Winchester that was atypical. Sam reflected that his brother always had something written across his features. Whether it was humor or disgust, anger or sadness, betrayal or determination … there was always something. This empty blankness was disconcerting.
Dean took a single step toward them and Cas shot his arm out to latch on to Sam’s jacket once more. Sam figured he was preparing to get them both the hell out of Dodge if things where about to go badly, but it wasn’t like they could do anything while Cas was still trapped inside the ring of fire. Cas licked his lips once before speaking again, and to Sam it was a blaring tell of Cas’ nerves. This didn’t exactly instill any confidence in the younger Winchester.
“Dean. Could you please put out this fire?”
Sam swallowed as his brother’s gaze moved from Cas’ face down to the floor where the holy oil was still burning merrily along with no mind to their struggles. Dean cocked his head slightly and blinked slowly. Suddenly the fire was gone. Not so much snuffed out as … wiped from existence. Okay, that was really fucking creepy. Castiel took a single step closer to Dean, now that the fire was out, but kept a firm grasp on Sam’s jacket and thus he was forced to move as well.
“Thank you, Dean.”
Cas’ voice was even and quiet, much like someone speaking to an extremely spooked animal, trying to keep them calm and still. Castiel, and therefore Sam, took a couple slow steps closer to Dean until they were within arms reach of the older Winchester. Dean just continued to watch them blankly with his luminous eyes. Sam realized that the light was casting an ethereal blue glow to his brother’s face, throwing his cheekbones and lips into stark contrast with deep purple shadows.
Sam finally risked turning to Castiel and whispered close to his ear.
“Cas … what the hell is going on?”
The angel blinked, but didn’t turn his gaze away from Dean. His eyes were wide and bright, filled with something that closely resembled awe. His voice was soft when he answered.
“Can you not see it, Sam?”
Sam turned back to his brother before he shook his head slightly. The glowing eye thing was cool, but nothing so awe-inspiring to cause that look in Castiel’s gaze. There was a soft pressure of fingertips against his temple, which he supposed must have been Castiel’s, and then there was a sudden explosion of light around him. He closed his eyes against the glare on instinct. Tears had immediately begun to fall at the brightness.
“It’s okay, Sam. I’m only showing you what I see … it will not damage your eyes in any way.”
Sam nodded and carefully opened his eyes. The glare died down rather quickly, and he could dimly make out the dark shape that was his brother standing before them. Same ripped up jeans, dirty boots and worn jacket … but the rest … the rest was unbelievable.
To use the term “beautiful” when referring to your own elder brother, who raised you in lieu of your parents, and whom you knew more disgusting and detailed facts about than you ever really wanted to … was not something that Sam Winchester ever figured he would do. However, his first immediate reaction to the sight before him was to whisper the word in reverence under his breath.
Dean’s entire body seemed to be backlit by a giant spotlight made of shifting colors. Deep hues of purple and blue in contrast with incandescent shades of yellow and gold. Great, sweeping rays of brilliant light were emanating from the crown of his head and arching away from him to encompass the entire building. They shifted and moved as if alive. As if the lights themselves were opalescent somehow. Ribbons of muted lightening tracked away from Dean’s body and danced over the surfaces of various objects surrounding them. They were iridescent and glimmering and likely the most beautiful thing Sam Winchester had ever seen in his entire life.
He heard Castiel whispering beside him, but the angel was merely echoing Sam’s own reaction to the view before them. The fingertips fell away from Sam’s temple and he had to blink several times at the sudden darkness that was in contrast to what he’d been gazing upon the instant before. The image felt like it was burned into his retinas, but true to Cas’ word, there was no pain. Turning to the angel, Sam could feel his own body shaking in nerves. Something was very, very wrong with this entire situation.
“Cas … what was that?”
For a moment, he wasn’t sure if Castiel had even heard him. The shorter man continued to stare, wide-eyed, at Dean. The elder Winchester himself seemed content just to stare back with his empty gaze. Cas licked his lips in nerves once again and Sam vaguely wondered where he might have picked up that particular mannerism from. As if he didn’t know.
“Dean. Do you know who I am?”
Sam returned his attention to his brother, as Dean tilted his head slightly to the side. If we’re going to talk about someone picking up a mannerism from someone else … the Castiel head tilt coming from Dean Winchester would have been extremely amusing at any other moment.
Dean opened his mouth.
“CAS.”
Pain exploded in Sam’s head the moment Dean spoke. He could feel both of his eardrums burst and slammed his hands up to uselessly cover his ears. The warmth of his own blood flowed through his fingertips, and his brain mimicked a bass drum inside his skull. Vaguely, he was aware that all the windows in the building had imploded, and the glass bottles lying amongst the detritus on the floor had practically vaporized.
“WHAT THE HELL, CAS?”
Sam knew he was probably screaming, but it wasn’t like he could really tell the difference at the moment. The angel appeared startled for a second, and then quickly reached over to touch Sam on the temple again. Instantly the pain was gone, and Sam straightened up and allowed his hands to drop away from his ears. Cas cleared his throat.
“We need to get out of this town.”
Sam nodded.
“Agreed. First we need to get back to the motel and-”
In the very next second, Sam found himself standing in the middle of the cheap motel room he and Dean had been rooming in the previous night. He blinked and looked to Castiel. The angel hadn’t touched him. Castiel himself blinked once back at Sam, and as one they turned to look at Dean. Sam cleared his throat.
“Right … let me just pack up our stuff and-”
There was a rustle of noise, and when Sam turned to stare at the bed behind him both his and Dean’s duffels sat there fully packed, where they had not been a moment before. He swallowed audibly and turned back to face Castiel.
“Okay … Cas? I’m going to need an explanation pretty soon here. Like now, preferably.”
The angel sighed and opened his mouth to speak, but never got the chance as the rustle of feathers forewarned another presence in the room even before Balthazar’s voice boomed in the quiet.
“Pardon me, boys, but there’s the strangest rumor-”
His abrupt silence, more so than his abrupt appearance, caused Sam to turn in Balthazar’s direction. When he did, he was met with an almost comical sight. Balthazar was standing in the middle of the motel room, obviously dumbstruck into a temporary muteness, his mouth hanging open as he simply stared at Dean … who just impassively stared back, of course.
“Well … I’ll be damned. It’s true.”
Obviously Balthazar could not be stunned into silence for very long. Castiel tensed beside Sam and refused to meet the other angel’s eyes.
“Yes. It is true.”
Balthazar took a step forward and rested a hand softly on Castiel’s shoulder, but his gaze never wavered from Dean standing before him.
“It kills me to say it … but that really is … quite becoming on him.”
Sam puffed out a laugh almost against his will and tried to keep his knees from shaking beneath him. There was an all encompassing sense of wrong enveloping the entire room and he just wanted to run away as far and as fast as he could. Obviously, this was a completely unacceptable reaction, because his brother needed him, and he needed Castiel’s knowledge to even grasp the situation. The fight or flight instinct, though, was swarming like a dozen bees in his gut.
“Cassie, you’ve got to get him somewhere safe.”
“I know.”
Castiel’s voice trembled just slightly, and Sam concentrated on the two angels before him.
“The word is spreading like wildfire thanks to Raphael’s little minions.”
“I figured as much.”
Balthazar growled under his breath in frustration.
“Then why are you still here?”
“I … don’t know where to go.”
Sam gulped nervously and turned to look at his brother. Dean was still standing stiffly in the same spot as he’d been when they popped back into the motel room. His gaze was firmly on Castiel, as if he was listening to every word the angel’s spoke, but there was no reaction on his face at all. Balthazar’s voice raised a notch at his next words.
“Well then, let Dean take you.”
Sam and Castiel’s gaze both snapped to the taller angel, who simply arched an eyebrow at them.
“Oh for- … don’t look at me as if I’m crazy. If there any of us right now that would know a safe place for him to hide from angels and demons alike, it would be Dean.”
Balthazar cleared his throat and spoke softly in the direction of the elder Winchester brother. His words were filled with much more respect and care than he’d ever used with the ‘lowly’ human brothers before. It caused a shiver of trepidation to wiggle its way up Sam’s spine. If Balthazar was even slightly afraid of Dean for some reason, then this thing… whatever it was … was a BIG deal.
“Dean-o, my love?”
Dean’s white gaze left Castiel and moved slowly to Balthazar, who smiled slightly.
“That’s a dear. Dean, we need to go some place safe. The four of us. Some place very, very, VERY safe. From angels and demons and everything else. Some place no one else can find us. Do you understand?”
Dean blinked and Sam felt the whole world seem to shift from under and around him. He squeezed his eyes closed at the sudden sense of vertigo. When everything seemed to have settled again, he slowly opened them and found himself in the middle of a warmly lit cabin. Worn, chocolate brown leather furniture was arranged around a flickering fireplace. Off to his right was a sparsely furnished kitchen with a high oak table and four well worn chairs. Turning to peek over his shoulder produced the view of a massive, hand-carved oak four-poster bed.
His mouth feeling parched, Sam turned back to his companions. Cas was still looking around the cabin in stunned silence, but Balthazar was grinning at Dean.
“Well done, Dean. Well done. Now don’t forget your precious Impala.”
Dean didn’t react to his words at all, but there was a sudden burst of a familiar car horn from outside the cabin and Balthazar chuckled.
“Oh, Cassie, Cassie, Cassie … my darling little brother. This war is yours for the winning now.”
Cas’ head snapped around to glare at the other angel.
“Don’t be ridiculous. This was not supposed to happen. This is dangerous.”
Balthazar sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes.
“Right. I forgot. Anything to win … as long as it doesn’t hurt precious little Dean Winchester.”
Sam blinked. Castiel curled his upper lip slightly. Dean did nothing. Balthazar took two steps forward to gingerly place a hand on Dean’s shoulder.
“Dean, love. I need to be able to leave this place … but I need to be able to find it again. Do you understand?”
Dean blinked.
“Good boy. Only let the four of us - and perhaps that grouchy old codger surrogate father of yours - freely through the gates. Can you do this?”
Dean blinked again and Sam could have sworn he felt something shift in the air around him. Balthazar chuckled.
“Well done. I must say … I very much prefer you this way. Less talky, more effective.”
Out of nowhere, Castiel’s hand grabbed Balthazar’s wrist firmly and wrenched it away from Dean’s shoulder. The shorter angel’s eyes were lit with an inner fire and his nostrils were flaring just slightly. Sam imagined that most people wouldn’t have noticed the subtle shift to anger in Castiel’s face, but he and Dean had become quite accomplished in picking out Cas’ mood changes.
“Balthazar. Do NOT sell us out to anyone. Do NOT let on that you have even seen us.”
The other angel sighed significantly and let his arm go lax in Castiel’s grip.
“Honestly, Cassie, the utter lack of trust wounds me. Deeply.”
Cas’ lip twitched just slightly, and it made Sam think of Dean. He always called this Cas’ ‘is the Angel gonna have to smite a bitch’ face. The thought of Dean made Sam focus on his brother instead of the family spat going on before him. He walked up slowly to his eerily still brother and ignored the mumbled voices behind him.
“Dean?”
The white gaze shifted towards him and met his eyes straight on. Sam tried to smile as warmly as possible.
“Okay, um, please don’t speak again … out loud, because ouch … but … are you still in there?”
Dean blinked. Sam sighed.
“He’s in there, Sam.”
Sam turned to find Castiel standing by his side, and Balthazar nowhere to be seen. His shoulder’s dropped a bit and let go of a tiny morsel of his tension. Balthazar always made him nervous. He and his crazy whims. Never could predict what that angel would do.
“What’s going on, Cas? Please tell me.”
Castiel nodded solemnly.
“I will tell both of you. Together.”
With those words the angel reached forward with his hand until his fingers brushed along Dean’s temple and across his brow, before pushing firm into the middle of his forehead. One second they were all standing there in a strange sort of silent trinity, and the next Castiel made a slightly pained gasp under his breath, and Dean crumpled like a boneless rag doll to the floor.
PART TWO