(no subject)
10. On The Tenth Day of Christmas
“Are you positive you don't just want to come in with me?” Johnny asked for the third time, and Sam sighed, for the third time, before responding.
“I'm positive. It'll be fine.” Sam said, as he glanced away from driving to flash the other man a comforting smile. “It's nothing personal - I just don't think me going into a church right now is going to score me any brownie points with the man Upstairs. Especially after what Dean and I did to the last church we were in.”
Johnny sighed, and Sam could hear him shifting around on the seat. “Sam, I don't think anything is going to happen to you, if you walk into a church-”
“I agree. I don't think God will strike me with lightening, or anything like that.” Sam glanced upwards at the slightly overcast sky through the windshield. “In fact I'm willing to bet right now - God and I are a 'pause' in our relationship.” However scary that thought was.
“That's not what I meant.” Johnny's tone was tart. “What I mean is that I don't think that anyone is going jump out around the corner of the vestibule and come at you like some hokey black and white monster, or something.”
Sam sighed, as he shook his head. “Oh, it could happen.” His lips curved into a sardonic smile, and he spoke wryly,”After all, it's Thursday.”
He could hear the frown in Johnny's voice, “What does that have to do with anything?”
Sam shrugged, as he headed down the main drag of Johnny's town, nicknamed by Dean, ButtfuckofNowhere, New York. “Trouble likes us on Thursdays, for some reason.”
“You know, I would call you on stupid superstitious behavior … but you're fighting for your soul against blood put into your veins by a demon, your brother was brought back from the dead by the Heavenly Host - you're both hunters - and you're with me. A vessel for the Angel, Castiel.” Johnny's voice, already amused, broke into a soft laugh, “Which, if now I recall, is the Angel of Thursday.”
“So you see where I might be a little cautious.” Sam said, his lips quirking up around the edges, before pointing to the public library, that sat across from the church Johnny wanted to take some time to pray in. “I'll be there.” He parked the car, giving Johnny a comforting slap on the shoulder, before opening his own car door. “And you just come and get me when you're done.”
Sam climbed out of the Impala, jumping a little when Johnny practically materialized next to him, bringing to mind every single time Castiel just appeared out of nowhere. Even though he knew the other man had been in the car with him, and just came around the back while Sam was setting the parking brake - he still had to stifle a yell. He glared half-heartedly down at the other man, “Jes - Jeez, Johnny! Did Castiel imbue you with angel-ninja techniques?”
“Yes. It's part of the vessel package.” Johnny said wryly. “Along with free dry-cleaning and a healthier than normal diet.” Sam felt brown eyes sweep over him, tinged with worry. “Are you sure you're going to be okay?”
“My abnormal height and considerable muscle mass assures me that whatever happens in the next hour? I'll be okay.” Sam smiled, waving Johnny off as he nodded towards the church. “I'm fine. Seriously. Say 'hi' to God for me, all right?”
Johnny offered a smile - it was a small one, but still enough - and sauntered up the steps to the church doors. Sam waited a beat to make sure the other man had entered, before exhaling, turning in a slow one eighty, and headed across the street to the library. He didn't even make it all the way across the street before he felt her, and half-turned, to find Ruby there waiting for him.
He sighed, and stuffed his hands into his jacket as he walked towards her, because of course she had followed them here. It was Thursday, and apparently, it was time for Sam to deal. With practicality, and hopefully without him and Ruby getting into a knockdown, slap-around fight. “Hello, Ruby.”
She sauntered up to him, dark-haired, dark-eyed, beautiful and tempting, and angry as Hell she had escaped from. She put a hand out and shoved him backwards, hard. “Hello, Sam.” Another push. “How have you been, Sam? What have you been up to, Sam? Seen any angels lately, Sam?”
Sam held out his own hand, a little surprised to see Ruby flinch backwards. He shook his head, and put his hand down, “I'm not the one who ran away in Michigan, Ruby.”
“What did you expect me to do, Sam? Stick around while that place became Angel Central?” He watched as she snorted, and started to pace the street in front of him. “Don't tell me - they gave you the big hallabaloo about getting your hand slapped if you go after Lillith on your own.”
Sam's eyes narrowed. “It'll be a little bigger than that, Ruby.” He shook his head, “They told me I don't have the right to judge, who lives and who dies. That's God's job.” He quieted a little. “...They told me they would finish me, if I kept down this path.”
Ruby shook her head, pacing back and forth, “And you're going to let them tell you what to do? What about Lillith, huh? What about the end of the frigging world that she's bringing about? Just going to sit back and let the angels handle that one? Because they've been doing a spec-tac-ular job so far, Sammo.”
Sam felt his jaw tighten, as he followed her movements. “Listen, just because you don't agree on which way this is supposed to pan out, doesn't mean the same result isn't going to happen. This is the End of the World, Ruby. I'm pretty sure the angels aren't heading down to Disneyworld!”
All right, except where they sort of were. If Heaven could be considered the funnest place on Earth, which he sincerely doubted.
“Really? So they're out there, fighting the good fight? Then why does the world seem light on that angel-fresh-smell?” Ruby countered.
Sam swallowed - had the other demons noticed that? - but kept his voice curt. “It's Christmas time, Ruby, what do you think they're doing?”
“Apparently, harp playing while the world burns.” Ruby smiled, and it wasn't a pleasant one. “Are you going to honestly tell me, you, Sam Winchester, are just going to wait around while people are dying?” She took a step towards him, her eyes wide and pleading. “Sam, you're the only one strong enough to do something.”
He could feel the conflict rising in him, felt the tension tightening in his jaw, but finally he shook his head. “... No, no. I … can't do this. I'm not the one. Dean's the one. And Dean … Dean's strong enough to stop this.” And if he wasn't, then Castiel would ensure that he was. Well, him and Cas. Together. He clenched his fists together, looking at Ruby with a tight, and can feel it in his throat, everything in him begging her to understand, “I've got to have Faith, Ruby. I've got to.”
Because he had so little else, at this time. He was so broken down and tired - he had to believe in something. He had to believe that Dean would be the warrior Heaven and his little brother always thought he was. He had to believe that stepping back wasn't going to hurt Dean, but help him. He had to have faith that a distant God and his band of kind-of-mostly-assholish angels knew what they were talking about.
Ruby's lips thinned, and she straightened that slender body of hers, the one that Sam had lost himself in when all else was lost. Her eyes are hot and angry, and something else. “Fine, Sam. Just fucking fine. How about you call me when you decide to get your head out of the angels proverbial crotch, and stop sucking their metaphorical dicks?”
“Ruby ...” Sam called after her, and when she turned, her face still filled with none-too-subtle anger, he almost took back the question. He set his shoulders, manning up. “You said you had something to tell us, in Michigan. What was it?”
Ruby's eyes flashed, and he tried to think he didn't see the black there, but he knew he did. “There are rumors going around. Angel got offed, and no-one knows who did it. But it wasn't Lillith, and it wasn't her friends. People are saying there's a new game in town.” Her mouth twisted. “So tell your feathery friends to watch their backs. They might find a knife stuck there, one of these days.”
With that, she stalked off, her boots stomping down the sidewalk. He watched her go, and something in him lurched and wanted to follow her. He could find the thing killing the angels - he had the power to stop this. Ruby could help him. They could do it together. He could still be with her, and not have to sacrifice everything, right? Right?
The one thing that stopped him was that he wasn't sure if it was him thinking those thoughts, or the demon blood still in his veins.
The world seemed to fall quiet, waiting, as Sam stood in the middle of the street. Finally, he lifted his head to the sky, sweeping messy bangs from his forehead as he said out-loud, “Okay. So this is me. Having faith. Waiting on you guys.” He was silent for a moment, before he whispered, “Don't make me regret it.”
He sighed, and started back across the street towards the library, his eyes shifting down the street, where Ruby had disappeared. Maybe she had been right. There were six billion people on this planet, and the angels didn't seem to be taking this war seriously. Or at least, most of them didn't. Christ, if the fight for the rest of humanity came down to him, Dean and Castiel … what the hell were they going to do?
“What I need is a sign.” Sam muttered, hands stuffing into his jacket, as he walked into the library. “Dean always gets signs. I'm not asking for much. Not even a burning bush. Maybe like a burning weed, or something. Maybe just let me know what you want us to do.”
That was when his cellphone went off, stopping Sam in his tracks. The librarian behind the desk gave him a dirty look and he swallowed and smiled sheepishly as he backed out of the library again to pull it from his jeans. There was a waiting text message, and Sam swallowed as his fingers fumbled to click it open.
It said simply; When you're done being HOLY, get me DONUTS.
Sam frowned, and then checked the sender. Dean. He snorted and shook his head. Not exactly divine intervention, but his expression became thoughtful. Maybe God's little way of telling him to let it go, just for a few more days. Just get lost in a few more days of laughter, and Christmas, and donuts.
Because if angels were getting murdered, the days ahead were going to be dark.
He stared at his phone for another moment, before turning around and jogging over to the church, opening the big wooden doors, and found Johnny praying in one of the back pews. The man looked over at him, brown eyes wide, as he whispered, “I thought you weren't feeling religious?”
Sam shrugged, as he went down on his knees, folding his hands in front of him, whispering as he put his eyes to the cross behind the altar. “I'm not. But I sure as hell am feeling talkative.” He looked up to the church's ceiling, muttering, “I just hope someone up there is listening.”
11. Again, Way Too Early On the Eleventh Day of Christmas
“I knew I should have gone shopping by myself.” Johnny sighed, as he turned his cart around the corner, eying the Winchester brothers. “Seriously, what is your combined mental age right now? Ten?”
Dean and Sam looked at each other, and then at the toy swords they were cheerfully beating each other up with. He knew he should have known better when they said they wanted to go to Walmart with him. He needed some last minute things and this was the only store open at 2 in the morning. He should have known by Sam's smile, quickly repressed, or the gleam in Dean's eye. Really, he should have known by the way they both ran off and abandoned him the moment they got into the store. He could see them running all the way to the toy department, leaving him to do his shopping all on his lonesome.
Right now, both of the guilty parties looked at him, looked away, scuffed their heavy work boots on the linoleum. Both of them cleared their throats, and both of them sounding sheepish as they said, “Sorry, Johnny.”
Johnny gave them both a mock glare, before rolling his eyes, “You wouldn't do this to Cas … all right, all right, stop looking at me with those puppy-dog eyes. Go pick out some toys.” He amended that after the gleam in Dean's eyes doubled, “Two! Two toys each!”
Dean slapped a hand against Sam's chest and gleefully clutched the sword in his hand. “Number one, down. Nerf guns, here I come.”
Johnny let out a heavy sigh, looking up at a still sheepish Sam. “I am giving you the money - with the clear understanding that whatever weapons he gets - he's going to use them on you.”
Sam's lips curved into a grin, and then his face changed. Something between a frown as as if Sam was sucking on a lemon. “Understanding noted.” He turned on his heel, raising his voice, “Dean! No guns!”
Johnny shook his head, grinning as he wheeled the cart backwards, and then headed back to the food aisles. He caught sight of his reflection, rolling along, looking like he was a moment away from a laugh. He grinned at himself, and pushed the cart forward, along this long aisle of mirrors, his reflection cast back at him. Castiel would be glad to have the vessel back, and in such good shape. Well-fed, happy, and … at peace, he finally realized. Not to mention, weirdly enough, looking forward to Castiel's return. For all that it was him being dragged along for the most Hellish ride of his life - Johnny enjoyed it. It was purpose. It was, as Bryan would like to say, 'one fucking good adventure'.
Maybe it was the thought of Bryan that made him glance at the mirror, and realize that he was being followed.
Fear swam through him, and he thought about cutting back around and getting Sam and Dean - but no - the men were closing in on him. Like jackals. Just far enough not to draw suspicion from the security cameras, but close enough that they were definitely herding him. He breathed out, slowly. Damn, what if these were demons? There was too many of them for him to outrun. He might be able to take out a few of them with the holy water flask he had in his pocket, but that would just buy him time. At least he'd be able to call out for help, before they descended on him.
Oh-ho, great. They were herding him into the bathroom. Where there were no cameras. Johnny's lips pressed together, and he looked skyward as he whispered simply, “Cas … Help.”
And then he was rushed, one of them grabbing him by the arm and shoving him into the bathroom, a surprisingly large room. He was pushed towards the far wall, and he spun around to face his attackers, all five of them. He had his flask out in an instant, and tossed the contents over the two by the door who … blinked, and looked confused. And damp.
Johnny blinked in turn, and then he let out a laugh, a high and shaky relieved laugh. “Oh Thank God! You're just prejudiced assholes!”
The five of them had gone from grimly pleased to utterly confused, and one of them asked, looking like he'd like to take a step away from the 'crazy man', “And just what the fuck did you think we were, fag?”
“Demons.” Johnny answered promptly, “I mean, you guys aren't much better - but seriously, five demons? Just me? I'd be seriously ...well, fucked, pardon the word.”
He held up as one of the men opened his mouth to speak, quietly relishing the befuddlement that made all five men stop and eye him warily, “Before you go on your diatribe, and your sexual innuendos, and try to get me to beg to save my life - let me tell you something. I know you guys. I know what you'll do. I know that you're going to walk out of here and think yourselves men, but all you'll be? Are monsters. The five of you - you took my lover from me. You beat him to death with your pipes and your fists and your hatred. And I hated you right back - I did . I hated the whole human mess for creating men like you. But after this year? I've gotten a lot of perspective, and now... I just feel sorry for you.”
One of the men, a gruff looking guy in a red trucker's cap literally spat in his direction, “You? Feel sorry for us?”
“Weird, huh?” Johnny felt something in him loosen, and finally float away. The last remnants of
resentment, of anger, perhaps. Leaving his soul free to feel sympathy, even pity again. “But to be honest - you guys just don't get it. You're so wrapped up in your petty little injuries and fears of what you don't know, you don't realize that there's bigger things out there. Bigger than you, bigger than me. There's more evil - more unbelievable evil than what you're trying to commit here. And there's more beauty, and grace, and - and love, than you'll ever have a chance to feel.”
He exhaled, thinking of Castiel. Thinking of how a creature of grace could love a man like these; rough-hewn and simple in his tastes and his beliefs. He dropped his gaze to them, and hid a grin while they all looked at each other nervously. This wasn't part of their plan. He wrecked it by being a whack-job. He added with gentleness. “Maybe because I've seen these things, that I'm willing to let this go. That I'll tell you, right now, that you want to walk out of here.”
The man in the red cap was the leader, and he was evidently trying to get this party back on track because he flicked out a knife, his dark eyes bright with confused anger, “Oh do we? And why the fuck do we want to do that? You protected by some fucking higher power?”
“Well, yeah.” Jimmy said, with a touch of sarcasm. “But seriously, I was just trying to keep you from getting your asses kicked by them.” He nodded his head to a spot behind them, where the Winchesters stood waiting.
The five men turned, and that was when Sam smacked two of them in the face, head on, with two red rubber balls that reminded Johnny of days of high school gym, and then the taller Winchester stepped forward to put his fists where the balls had landed. Dean had a wiffleball bat that he grimly and efficiently used to beat the crap out of the two men in front of him, the plastic bat swinging around and cracking fingers and knees brutally. The man with the knife was so started that he didn't see Johnny heading right for him, so all he could do was let out a surprised 'oooooof' noise as his back slammed into the sink. He dropped the knife, but looked like he would just kill Johnny with his bare hands.
Well he would have, if the light fixture above his head hadn't, inexplicably, suddenly fallen loose from its bindings and landed right on the man's head, knocking him right to the floor.
It took them all but ten minutes to finish the fight. Then there were five men down, one through angelic assistance, and the bathroom looked like the floor of a UFC match. Dean looked around with satisfied smirk, and then shot an exasperated look at Johnny, “Seriously dude. Five minutes. You were out of our sight for five frigging minutes.”
“Your talent for trouble seems to have rubbed off?” Johnny panted, catching his breath as he glanced at the ceiling, smiling. “Thanks Cas.” He nodded at the Winchesters. “Thanks, guys.”
Sam shook out his fist, wincing as he prodded it for bruises. “Thank us later, when we're out of here.”
“Yeah, seriously, let's scatter before we have to answer too many goddamned questions.” Dean sighed as he looked at his wiffle-bat. “Aw, damn. I got dumb, ignorant hick blood all over it. No way am I buying this now.” He tossed it over his shoulder as he opened the door for all three of them. Which was what made Johnny, on their way out, grab Dean another wiffle-bat. Along with two state-of-the-art remote control cars for Dean and Sam, as well. The very least he could do was, he thought, was to ensure they both had three toys. The surprised and pleased expressions on their faces was thanks enough.
At the register, the cashier handed him his credit card, while Sam and Dean started pushing the cart out to the Impala, half riding on it, and while she eyed them with disgruntlement, she asked Johnny curtly, “Anything else you need?”
Johnny cocked his head back at the question, and suddenly smiled, dark eyes bright, peaceful and clear. “Not a thing. I'm totally good.” He started to walk towards the banks of double doors, and looked over his shoulder, “Oh yeah - the bathroom in the back? You might want to have someone go and clean that up. It kind of looks like someone dumped trash all over the place.”
His smile brightened, at her vaguelly confused expression, and he offered a cheery, “Merry Christmas!” before he walked out of the doors, leaving more than Wal-mart behind him in his wake.
12. On The Twelfth Day Of Christmas
“Dude, we've been together for nearly two weeks. We ate your food, slept in your beds, dragged your drun ass out of depression. - Johnny, I let you take me to a gay bar, where guys bought me more beer than I've ever bought a girl I wanted to bang - and now you're having 'trust issues'?” Dean scoffed, loudly, in Johnny's face, “Quit your bitching, and just put on the damned blindfold.”
Johnny gave him another leery look, that Dean met flatly, and continued to stare at the blindfold in his hand. Dean rolled his eyes as Sam spoke up from behind them both, his tone a lot more gentle and reasonable than Dean's had been, “C'mon, Johnny. You don't want to ruin our surprise, do you?”
“So this surprise isn't going to be another inadvertent cold shower?” Johnny asked dryly, but he finally lifted the blindfold to his face, tying it into place.
Dean rolled his eyes at Sam, as he took Johnny by the shoulders and steered him towards the front door, muttering grumpily, “I should, for the amount of bitchin' I've been getting.”
Sam smirked back at him, tossing him Johnny's coat, slipping on his own. “Don't worry, Johnny, no one gets drunk-dunked on Christmas.”
Dean finished slipping on Johnny's - Cas's - coat, and pushed him gently towards Sam as he pulled on his own. “Listen to Sasquatch. He speaks truth.” He watched Sam make sure that Johnny was well and truly snug in the coat, and the blindfold was on straight, before nodding his approval and opening the door for the both of them. Watched while Sam said something to make Johnny laugh, before pulling a wool hat over the dark hair that actually behaved for Johnny, where it never had for Cas.
He ignored the ache in his chest. Not much longer, until the angel came back, and not much longer until Johnny left. Weird, how your heart could pull in two different directions. However, if he was going to be honest with himself - yeah, the angel was preferred. His lips twisted, as he thought to himself, Castiel, preferred in a taste-test choice by 9 out of 10 hunters named Dean Winchester. His soft 'Heh' earned him a narrow-eyed look from Sam, who he flashed one of his more innocent looks in response.
He was fiercely happy that Sam finally got Johnny out the door, and that neither one of them could really see his face after he followed them out, making sure to lock up the house behind them. He was on board for the warm and fuzzy crap today - after all it was Christmas. But he'd be damned if he let his brother see him looking like a soft-eyed, lovesick moron. The angel made that look be there, the angel was the one who got to see it.
It was a good time for a drive, though. The sun was starting to drop down on the horizon, the road was smooth, and he and Sam were fighting over Aerosmith or Christmas tunes, and he could hear Johnny snorting laughs from the backseat. The car was warm, running slick, and there was snow on the ground and not a single monster in sight.
It was the best Christmas Eve Dean could remember in 27 years, although the one last year with the porn mags and just Sam was pretty damned good too. Even with almost getting eaten.
He followed the directions he and Sam had taken the day before, and slipped the car up the long and silent hill, until they reached their destination. He met Sam's gaze, who nodded at him solemnly, before they both got out of the car together, and Sam fetched Johnny from the backseat. They made their way carefully along the path, until they stopped, and Dean tugged off Johnny's blindfold, letting the other man open his eyes.
Sam pressed lightly against Dean's side, a source of warmth, as they both waited quietly, as Johnny looked over the grave - squared away and clean, as vigorously as Dean could manage. All the leaves and debris swept away, dead weeds pulled away, revealed the simple black marble headstone that simply read Bryan and the dates of his life and death. The red roses that Sam insisted on stood in their tall matching vases, flanking it. Dean watched Johnny's shoulders rise, and then fall, a little shakily, before the man turned to look back at them. Brown eyes met theirs, and they were wide and wet and Dean felt like looking away because he never dealt well with men crying.
Himself, most of all, but that was neither here nor there.
As if Johnny sensed it, he swallowed, and wiped his face clear, and managed a quiet, “Thank you, boys.” Anything else seems beyond the man.
Sam's smile answered for him, and Dean just scratched the back of his neck and shrugged at the same time, his words a little stiff, “S'nothing. You know. Uhm, we'll leave you to, y'know, commune. Or whatever.”
Johnny looked like he wants to hug them both, and Dean was relieved when all he did was nod his head gratefully, and turned to press his hand against the top of the grave. Sam nudged him with his elbow, and they walked back around the gravestones, their boots crunching in the snow as they approached the Impala.
“So, you want your present now, or you want to wait until later?” Sam asked, and Dean arched his eyebrows up at his brother, watching as Sam shrugged, a grin lighting up his brother's face, “I might have just given in to the sentimentality of the season, and brought it with me.”
“I always knew you were a soppy bitch.” Dean's lips curved into a smirk, before he squinted up at the swiftly darkening sky, “I might have brought along something for you too.” He can see Sam smirking at him out of the corner of his eye, and he pointed a finger at him. “This does not make me as girly as you, though.”
“No, of course not. You're the 'manly' Winchester. Any day now I expect you to start wearing a cowboy hat and spit tobacco.” Sam rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Where's my present, jerk?”
“Cowboy hat might cool.” Dean popped the trunk, “Chewing tobacco though dude? And ruin these gorgeous white teeth?” Which he flashed for Sam, as he tossed a awkwardly wrapped in plain brown paper package at him. Sam looked at it oddly, lips quirking up in a way that made Dean ask suspiciously, “What?”
Sam shook his head, grinning, before he went to the passenger side door of the Impala. He pulled it open, and then popped open the glove-box, to pull out a much neater wrapped package, with Santas dancing merrily over a background of dark blue, the same size and shape as the gift he'd just given to Sam. Dean eyed his brother, and started to open the package, his tone mockingly conversational,“So, there was this store in the mall.”
Sam smirked and started to open his own package. “Small little place? Might have a sign up there about 'make your own t-shirt'?” Dean watched, grinning a little, as Sam opened the wrapping, then read what Dean had inscribed on the front of the plain black t-shirt in blazing white print. His brother snorted, “'#1 Angel Fanboy'. Cute, Dean. Reaaaaal cute.”
Dean snorted a delighted laugh, until he unwrapped his own shirt and read aloud, “'Pervy … Angel Deflowerer'.” He made a 'hnngh' noise in his throat, before shooting his now smug brother a dirty look, “Hi-lar-ious, Sammy.”
“You're welcome.” Sam smarmed, snickering even as Dean slapped him hard in the chest with one hand, before he shook his head, “Thank God Cas isn't here to see these.”
Dean shook his head and cracked up, “Oh damn, can you imagine trying to explain these? The look on his face? I would not stop laughing. I'd die friggin' laughing, at that look.” He glanced sideways at Sam, his smile suddenly going fey, “You know, he's going to be here in a week...”
“Dean, you are not even suggesting we wear these when Cas is here for New Years.” He looked at his brother's gleaming eyes, and held up the t-shirt like a shield against Dean's mischievous grin, “No! Noooooooooo. He's an angel of the Lord, Dean!”
“Are you saying God doesn't have a sense of humor?” Dean said archly. “I refuse to believe that of the apparent deity that gave me The Three Stooges can't enjoy a good chuckle.” He snorted softly, looking over the snow-covered graves. “Just look at our lives. Comic drama don't come any better than us, Sammy.”
Dean felt the long, quiet, look of Sam's, and then a heavy, mocking sigh. “... If he decides to smite us, I am using you as a human flesh shield, Dean.”
Dean grinned, his eyes gleaming a little. In one week, he'd be seeing Castiel, touching Castiel, tasting him, doing a multitude of dirty and wonderful things with him. Add to that he'd get a few laughs out of the heavy levels of confusion on Castiel's face, and it looked like the best New Years ever was coming right behind Christmas.
Johnny emerged from the path - his breath was heavy and his eyes were still looking a little damp, red around the rims. Dean looked at Sam, and Sam looked back at him. Silently, they both held up their individual t-shirts solemnly to their chests, the crinkle of plastic almost loud in the stillness of the cemetary. There was a moment where Johnny stopped, and his look of befuddlement was almost, almost a match for the angel's, but then Johnny did something Dean was sure he would have to coax, carefully, out of the reserved angel.
Johnny laughed. He laughed good, and hard, and maybe a little louder than necessary, but it's ten times better than the grief that was there a minute ago. Maybe he wasn't Castiel, Dean suddenly though to himself. Maybe this isn't the guy Dean wanted to be with more than anything else in the world. Right now, though, with his brother beside him and Johnny - good ole Johnny - grinning at him - Dean finally got it.
Johnny was family - like Bobby was family, and Ellen and Jo and a score of others who they had lost along the way. But there Johnny was, tucked into the circle. Castiel drew them together, and now Dean was bonded. They were in this war together; he, Sam, Johnny -- and Castiel. Castiel, in his own way, was showing Dean that he was never going to leave him.
Dean was going to give the angel some kind of Hell, for playing him so well. He just wasn't sure if it was going to be before or after he managed to find a way to thank the holy bastard.
Preferably, with his pervy-angel-deflowering-mouth.
Epilogue - And A Partridge, In A Pear Tree...
Johnny finished tying his tie, looking at himself in the mirror, neatly pressed and solemn again in his dark blue suit, the lighter blue of his tie bringing out the warmth his eyes. He fixed the cuffs of the crisp white shirt, then the jacket, looking down to make sure he was neat, tidy, and otherwise put together.
He glanced at the clock beside his bed - 7:25 a.m, December 26th. He gave it a little curt, acknowledging nod. It was time. He reached for the trenchcoat, slipping it over his shoulders before sliding the gloves on over his hands. The angel would forget about the cold - hopefully he'd figure out the use of the hat so Johnny wouldn't lose his ears. He cracked a wry smile at the thought of Castiel struggling to figure out how to pull a hat on his head, as he walked out into the hallway, and closed his bedroom door behind him.
He walked down the long hallway, pausing as he looked first into Sam's bedroom, and then over into Dean's. Both of them slept soundly - Dean snorting softly as he rolled over on his side. Johnny's smile went soft at the sight of them, then he set his shoulders, and kept walking. Had to keep moving, now. He paused at the small table beside the door, and pulled out the short letter for the boys, putting it next to the Impala keys. As an almost afterthought, he dug out his own ring of keys, slid off the one to the house, and nodded. They'd take care of his place, if he never came back.
The air outside was crisp and sharp, just like a winter morning should be. He breathed it in, breathed out again, sending a cascade of white air through the beginning flickers of light coming from the east. Dawn, the time for new beginnings. Starting over. Johnny smiled, as the sun lifted, and he could hear Castiel's mind whispering to him, first faint, now getting stronger. The angel was coming.
Like the first time, Johnny opened his arms wide, and looked up to the sky. He didn't know how rough this ride was going to get. He didn't know where this particular road was going to lead him. Heck, he didn't even know if he was going to live to see the next day - much less the start of a new year, the war, any of it.
He knew, though, that no matter what happened, if his time came, the two men would bring him home, one way or another. And the angel descending on him, would keep all his promises. He closed his eyes as the light from above nearly outshone the rising sun, and he whispered as Castiel cascaded into him, purity and Grace flowing into him like a heavenly waterfall, “Welcome home, Cas.”
~~~~~
“He gone?” Dean's voice was gruff, catching Sam's attention as he looked up from reading the brief note Johnny had left them. His brother's face was a little closed off, even as he rubbed his bare chest and yawned. Even just waking up, Dean could have his personal shields up in a moment. Sam nodded his head, flipping it around so Dean could read it as well. Dean's eyes skimmed over the few words, his lips twisting around the edges, before hazel eyes lifted to meet Sam's, “Well, we're burning daylight. Let's pack it up, and get going.”
He headed back up the stairs, grumbling, “S'not like the end of the world's gonna wait for us while we have brunch.”
Sam's lips quirked up at the bleak humor, and he went to put the note down and follow Dean upstairs. He paused, however, and then palmed the key Johnny had left them. Later on, when he locked the front door with it, Dean didn't say a word as Sam slipped the key, not under the mat, but in his own pocket. Then they were on the road again, but the key was a comfortable press against Sam's leg, and occasionally, he would reach down to his pocket to touch it, and make sure it was still there. That the past ten days had happened, and all those bright memories were actually his, and Dean's, to keep.
The key remained, a solid reminder. Sam smiled every time he took his fingertips off it again.
~~~~~~~
The note said this; You two made this a home again, so I want you to consider it yours. Thank you, for everything. - Johnny.
~~~~~~~
Thunder growled in the distance, but the storm was still weeks off. It would hold, for a little while longer.