Everything That Matters - Chapter One
His automatic weapon spat bullets at the Croats bearing down on them, and Cas fell back as they closed in on his position. Risa had already fallen, and as Cas fired, the man on his right went down, too, under a pile of bloodthirsty Croats.
Cas had known that this was a suicide mission-he’d known he was going to die this time, but he’d followed Dean’s orders because he hadn’t known how to do anything else.
Two more Croats went down under his gunfire, but Cas couldn’t fire fast enough as they attacked, and he collapsed in a tangle of limbs. The Croats tore at his clothing, at his flesh, and it occurred to him that he didn’t fear death as much as turning into one of them. It would almost be a relief to die.
As a piece of glass sliced through his cheek, then pierced his larynx and esophagus, Cas felt his throat fill with blood. He struggled to draw breath, fighting against the pain, fighting to live-an instinct he couldn’t quite make sense of, given the last few years.
Cas supposed that just proved he was human.
He pressed a hand over the wound on his neck, could hear himself gurgling, and the Croats moved on, apparently viewing him as good as dead.
The blood seeped through Cas’ fingers to soak the front of his shirt, and he closed his eyes.
He hadn’t prayed in years-not since the other angels had decamped. Cas didn’t think he had any faith left these days, but as the last bit of life left him, his lips moved in a silent prayer. “Oh, God, I would give anything to change this.”
Dean honked the horn as he pulled up in front of Lisa’s house, putting the Impala into park and waiting for Ben to emerge.
Ben ran out of the house, duffel bag slung over one shoulder, cleats in his free hand. He tossed both shoes and duffel into the backseat before climbing inside. Dean heard the dull clank of bats, and he grinned at his son. “Ready to go?”
“Mom wanted to talk to you,” Ben replied. “She’s coming out.”
Lisa jogged out of the house, and leaned against the driver’s door, poking her head through the window. “Are you coming to dinner tomorrow night?”
“I don’t know, Lisa…”
“Just you, me, and Ben,” Lisa promised. “None of my cousins are in town right now.”
Dean snorted. “Right. Yeah, okay, I’ll bring the beer.”
“Burgers and dogs,” she said. “You can bring buns, too.”
“Sure thing, sweetheart.”
Lisa pressed a friendly kiss to his cheek, then waved at Ben through the window. “Be good.”
“Mom,” Ben protested.
“I love you,” she said with a sweet smile.
Ben flushed, and Dean could see Sam in him-Sam, who had protested at any show of parental concern, either from their dad or Dean. “Yeah, me too.”
Dean grinned and shook his head as he backed out of the driveway with a wave. “When was the last time you mowed?”
Ben shrugged. “I don’t know. Last week?”
“It needs to be done again soon.”
Ben made a face but didn’t argue. “I’ll do it tomorrow morning.”
“Thank you.” Ben stared out the window, and Dean decided to turn the conversation away from chores Ben needed to do around the house. “Pizza okay for dinner tonight?” Dean asked.
“Coach said something about taking us to McDonald’s after practice,” Ben replied, turning to look at him with hopeful eyes. “Can I go?”
Dean wanted to protest. He didn’t get so much time with Ben that he willingly gave it up, but he also wanted Ben to have a real childhood, real friends. Dean had learned that the hard way over the last couple of years; he had learned to follow Lisa’s lead on what Ben could and couldn’t do, what was appropriate. Lisa had been the one to demonstrate by example what living a normal life was. “Did you ask your mom?”
“She said it was okay with her if it was okay with you,” Ben replied. “Please, Dean?”
He sighed. “Yeah, okay. We’ll play video games tonight when you get back. Not too late, huh?”
“Thanks!”
Dean pulled up in front of the baseball field, and Ben jumped out with an off-handed wave. “See ya!”
“See you later, buddy.”
The thing about Ben-and maybe most kids-was that they tended to take people for granted. Lisa had told him once that this was a good thing; after a while, Ben just assumed that Dean would always be there, so he felt free to blow Dean off as often as he liked.
Sam had done the same thing, and maybe that’s why it stung so much now, even though Dean tried to shrug it off.
Dean tried not to think about the afternoon and evening that stretched out before him, with nothing to do, and nowhere to go until Ben called him for a ride.
Lisa kept telling him that his life revolved too much around her and Ben, which was why she’d tried to set him up with her cousin. Sometimes, though, Dean still felt like he was living someone else’s life, and he was holding on to what he had by his fingernails. He kept waiting for his past to catch up to him, to lose the only people left in his life who mattered.
How could he possibly hope to have a relationship with someone when he couldn’t talk about anything more than two years in the past? And how could he trust that he wouldn’t lose them, too?
Dean could be happy enough with his 9 to 5 job, weekends with Ben, and the occasional dinner with Lisa. He thought, maybe, he could manage to hang on to that much.
But there were moments like these, when Ben reminded him so much of Sam, when Dean felt as though he was being left behind, that he felt the loss of his old life more acutely than ever.
He knew by now that there was nothing he could do to ease the ache in his chest.
With a sigh, he turned the Impala towards home and another evening alone.
Cas opened his eyes slowly, blinking in the bright afternoon sunlight. When they’d approached Lucifer’s hideout, the sky had been slate gray, and he thought he’d heard distant thunder mixed in with gunfire. Now, the sky was a clear blue, a color he felt as though he hadn’t seen for years.
Tipping his head back, Cas saw a few wisps of cloud, heard birdsong, and children shrieking.
Children.
His breath caught in his throat, and Cas rose from the wooden bench he’d been sitting on and turned around. Two girls were on the swings, being pushed by a woman in a blue dress; another three chased each other around the playground equipment-up ladders, down slides, around the monkey bars-while another woman stood and watched with an indulgent smile.
Cas swallowed, then looked down at himself, realizing that he wasn’t wearing the same clothes as when he’d walked into the warehouse. No, these were the jeans he’d put on two years ago, the t-shirt and jacket handed down from Dean-the clothing he’d donned when his grace had faded completely.
No blood, he thought, pressing his hand to his throat where the wound had been moments before. Nothing to show that he’d been dying.
Cas took several deep breaths, trying to control his breathing.
Once, long ago, when he’d still believed in answered prayers, Cas might have given God the credit for the sudden shift, for this chance. Now, Cas was faithless as well as hopeless and useless, and whatever else he’d told past-Dean hours ago. There had to be a reason he was here; someone had to be fucking with him, the way Zachariah had fucked with Dean by sending him five years into the future.
And maybe that was it-maybe past-Dean had said yes, and everything had been changed, leaving Cas-where, exactly?
He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and headed away from the park and the laughter of children. The sound felt wrong to him. Cas kept expecting to hear gunfire, shouting, the sounds of war.
The grassy expanse gave way to a sidewalk cutting through a residential neighborhood, small well-kept houses lining a broad street. Something about this place felt familiar, but he wasn’t comforted.
Cas kept waiting for the Croats to show up, and it bothered him that all he could see were neat yards and sturdy oaks and wide porches.
This wasn’t his world.
Because he couldn’t think of anything better to do, Cas kept walking, eventually taking off his jacket because of the warmth of the day.
The residential street gave way to businesses, and Cas ducked inside a drugstore, blinking at the air-conditioned interior, and the fluorescent lights. The rack just off to the side held a dizzying variety of magazines, and a small selection of newspapers.
USA Today, Cas read. Wall Street Journal. Omaha World-Herald. And the date: June 21, 2012.
He shouldn’t be surprised, Cas thought. That was the day the angels left, the day he lost what was left of his grace. It was the day he’d given up hope.
Cas swallowed hard. The date still didn’t answer the question of why the hell he was here, though. Why was he still human? Was he supposed to change things?
He stepped back outside without buying anything, ignoring the dirty look from the clerk and the puzzled frowns from other customers. Cas leaned up against the wall outside the building and tried to take stock; he needed a cigarette, or a pill. Amphetamines were all wrong for a time like this; he wanted something soothing-Valium, Vicodin, alcohol, absinthe, weed. Maybe a little bit of each for good measure.
A quick search of his pockets had Cas cursing under his breath. His stash wasn’t there; he had none of the usual pills he carried with him-stolen from people’s houses and medicine cabinets on their foraging trips. He’d looked for food and toiletries, and whatever else Chuck said they needed, but he’d looked for this, too.
Cas had built up quite the stockpile over the last year or two, and he missed it the way he couldn’t miss Dean.
What the hell was he supposed to do now?
Cas found the wallet in his back pocket, the same one he’d carried up until a couple of months before. Jimmy Novak’s driver’s license was still there, as well as a few credit cards and a few creased bills.
A little more searching turned up Cas’ old cell phone, the one he’d used up until fall 2011, when the cell towers went down and never really went back up. He scrolled through his contacts-all three of them.
Only Dean would know about the Croatoan virus, though. Zachariah would have already sent Dean into the future, so this Dean would at least be familiar with Cas’ story. Cas couldn’t be certain that past-Dean had told Bobby about his little trip to the future, however, and Sam would have said yes already.
So, if Cas called anybody, it had to be Dean-the Dean of this time, anyway.
For a moment, he considered not making the call, giving up on whatever task he’d been brought back for, and just drifting. He’d learned enough about grifting and fraud from his Dean to eke out a life for himself. But in the end, he just couldn’t do it.
“Fuck,” he muttered, then hit the call button.
Dean picked up on the third ring. “Yeah?”
“It’s me. Cas,” he added for good measure, just in case Dean didn’t recognize his voice immediately.
“Cas?” Dean’s voice held a note of incredulity. “Why are you calling me?”
“I-” Cas didn’t want to have this conversation over the phone. “Where are you?”
“Cicero, Indiana. Same place I was the last time you popped in.” Dean paused. “Is there something wrong?”
Cas swallowed laughter. “No. I just-I want to see you. I’ll be there soon.”
“Yeah, sure, but Cas-”
He hung up before Dean could finish the question, and Cas took a few steadying breaths, wishing yet again for his trusty pill bottles. At least he had enough cash for a pack of cigarettes, and he’d finagle a bus ticket to Cicero somehow.
Or maybe he’d hitchhike, which would take less money, but would be a little more chancy when he couldn’t smite anybody he pleased. And in this worthless, useless body, there was a lot more that could go wrong, as he’d long since discovered.
Cas straightened, squared his shoulders, and headed inside the store again. First a cigarette, then a sandwich at the Subway he’d spotted down the street, and then he could see about getting himself from Omaha, Nebraska to Cicero, Indiana.
The call from Cas lingered in the back of Dean’s mind for the next two days as he fixed cars and chauffeured Ben around. He kept expecting Cas to just pop up, and when he didn’t, Dean wondered what the fuck was keeping him.
Not that he was planning on calling; Cas came and went as he pleased, and there was no telling what heavenly emergency had delayed him. Dean had seen Cas twice since they’d averted the apocalypse, and both times Cas was there and then gone, with nothing more than a few cryptic words.
Dean had gotten the impression that Cas was keeping on eye on him from a distance, and while Dean had tried to tell himself that it was the thought that counted, it hadn’t helped. The reality was that Cas-the guy he’d come to rely on to come through for him-was gone.
So, yeah, maybe Dean was still a little pissed off about that, even though he shouldn’t have expected anything different. He’d known for a long time that Cas preferred being an angel to being human-being in heaven to being on earth. Funny how knowing that didn’t help.
Given Cas’ propensity to just show up without regard for Dean’s schedule or things like doors, Dean was a little surprised on the third day to come home to find Cas sitting outside his apartment door. Cas had his knees pulled up to his chest, and was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and a jacket that Dean recognized as his own. In fact, that same jacket still hung in the back of his closet.
This was weird. This was really, fucking weird.
Dean approached slowly. “Cas?”
Cas raised his head, and Dean blinked, recognizing him immediately. This Cas wasn’t supposed to exist. Cas-Castiel-was in heaven, playing sheriff.
“Dean.” Cas rose slowly to his feet. “I hope you don’t mind me dropping in.”
Dean raised his eyebrows. “You don’t normally care whether I mind.”
Cas shrugged. “It’s a little different this time.”
“I guess it would be.” Dean unlocked his door, already thinking about where the holy water was. He had a silver knife on him-he wasn’t so stupid as to go weaponless-and there was a Devil’s Trap painted on the floor under the carpeting. Dean should be covered if this was a trap or a trick.
“I’m human, Dean,” Cas said, following him inside. “And I’m not a demon.”
“Yeah, well, if you know me at all, you’ll understand when I say that I’ll be the judge of that.”
“Run whatever tests you’d like,” Cas responded with a shrug. “When you’re satisfied that I’m who I say I am, I’ll tell you how I got here.”
Holy water, silver, the wards-none of them had any effect, and Dean finally said, “All right, Cas. Spill.”
“This isn’t quite what I was expecting,” Cas said, looking around at the second-hand furniture and faded paint.
Dean frowned. “So, you’re going to tell me that you haven’t been here before, that you weren’t here two months ago.”
“I haven’t, and I wasn’t.”
Dean watched him intently. “All right. How did you get here?”
“Greyhound to Chicago, then I hitchhiked the rest of the way,” Cas explained, slumping on the couch.
“That’s not exactly what I meant.” Dean grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge, and handed one to Cas. “And you know it.”
“You don’t recognize me?”
“Let’s just say that I want to hear your side before I jump to any conclusions,” Dean hedged, perching on the arm of the recliner. “So, let’s hear it.”
“The last time I saw you, it was 2014,” Cas began, his elbows resting on his knees. “I think you know that.”
“I suspected,” Dean replied evenly.
“I don’t know what happened to you,” Cas said. “We went into the warehouse and ran into a bunch of Croats. You-well, the other you, knew what we were walking into.”
“Yeah, he did.” Dean took a long pull from his bottle. “So?”
“So, I was dying when I woke up in a park in Omaha, Nebraska, in the same spot where I lost my grace completely. And then I called you. There’s not much more to tell.” Cas spread his hands. “So, here I am.”
Dean didn’t know if he could believe Cas’ story-and he didn’t know if he could afford not to. “Why?”
“Hell if I know,” Cas admitted readily. “I called you because I figured that if you needed help, if I was sent back two years for some reason, you’d know.”
Dean hesitated, then said, “The apocalypse is over, Cas. Sam said yes to Lucifer, and managed to take both of them down to hell. We stopped the world from ending.”
Cas blinked slowly, then sagged back into the couch cushions. “But-wait. What about-”
“Sam went to hell, I survived, you-the other you-and Bobby were killed, but then got resurrected.” Dean hesitated for a moment. “And Cas-Castiel-went back to heaven to bring a new order or something.”
“Right. Great. Nice to know that some version of myself was welcomed back with open arms.” Sarcasm dripped from Cas’ words. “If you saved the world, then what the fuck am I doing here?”
“Hell if I know,” Dean replied.
They just stared at one another for a long moment, and Cas was the one to break it off, tipping his head back and closing his eyes.
“Look,” Dean began awkwardly. “If you need somewhere to stay, you can hang here.”
He didn’t want to make the offer. Having Cas stay with him meant dealing with his old life and Dean remembered what this Cas was like. Dean had a life that didn’t involve hunting or angels-or even former angels.
But Dean owed him; Dean had gotten Cas into this mess. He had an obligation to help Cas out of it.
Cas took a long drink, downing half the bottle in one go. “What about you? Are you still hunting?”
“No, I’m a mechanic now,” Dean replied. “You want to stay?”
“Where else am I supposed to go?” Cas rubbed his eyes wearily. “Fuck. I don’t even know what to do at this point. I don’t know why someone would want to bring me back.”
“So, crash here,” Dean replied. “I owe you.”
“You don’t owe me shit,” Cas shot back.
Dean raised his eyebrows. “You raised me from perdition, remember?”
“You paid me back for that a long time ago.” Cas leaned forward. “I thought-”
“Who the hell knows why you got brought back, Cas?” Dean asked. “We still don’t know why you-why whoever brought Castiel and Bobby back. I think I can find some clothes that will fit you, and you can wash what you’re wearing, get a shower, get some sleep. You hungry?”
“Yeah,” Cas replied. “I haven’t eaten since-yesterday? Maybe? I don’t remember.”
“I’ll call for takeout, and you get cleaned up,” Dean said. “I’ll find some clean clothing.”
“Dean-thank you.”
Dean forced a smile. “Don’t worry about it.”
When Cas had disappeared into the bathroom, Dean scrubbed his hands over his face. The knowledge that he was probably going to regret his decision warred with knowing that Cas needed him right now. Dean hadn’t been needed like that in too long, and with Cas around, maybe the apartment wouldn’t feel so empty most of the time.
And maybe he wouldn’t regret it, Dean thought. Maybe this would turn out all right; there was a first time for everything.
Cas couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a shower, and after two days on the road, he definitely needed one. The hot water sluiced off the grime and road dust, and by the time he stepped out, Dean had left a pile of clothes just inside the door.
“Just like old times,” Cas muttered, thinking of the week or two when he’d lived out of Dean’s duffel bag, before he got clothes of his own.
He’d lost what was left of his grace shortly after Sam had said yes, but his faith in Dean had slipped away a little more slowly. They had both started drinking more, and Cas had done everything he could to dull the sharp press of reality, even as Dean grew harder and began torturing again.
And now here he was, in a run-down apartment with secondhand furniture, with a Dean who resembled the man he’d pulled out of hell more than the one who had sent him into a deathtrap.
This Dean had lost Sam and yet hadn’t gone off the deep end. In fact, he seemed saner than ever, and that hurt, too, for reasons Cas didn’t want to look at too closely.
Those memories had Cas fumbling for the pack of cigarettes he’d tucked away in the pocket of his dirty jeans. He needed a smoke, and another drink, and maybe something else to calm his nerves.
“Called for pizza,” Dean said as soon as Cas emerged, Dean’s eyes going to the cigarette in Cas held. “It should be here soon.”
“Do I have time for a smoke?”
Dean nodded. “Yeah, but outside, okay?”
“Of course.”
Dean had a small balcony, three stories up, overlooking the parking lot. It wasn’t much of a view, but it was better than the camp.
“Need a light?” Dean asked, following him outside, a lighter in his hand.
Cas cupped his hands around the unlit end, breathing deeply as it caught. “Thanks,” he mumbled around the cigarette.
“Look,” Dean began awkwardly. “I don’t care what you do, just-not around Ben, okay?”
Cas took a deep, deliberate drag from the cigarette. “Who’s Ben?”
“My son-or near enough. He’s why I’m here, why I’m not hunting.” Dean leaned back against the railing around the balcony. “He’s thirteen-almost fourteen-and I’m trying to set a good example.”
Cas snorted. “You?”
“Yeah, me. Please, Cas.”
The way Dean asked made him soften slightly. Cas had to try to remember that this wasn’t the Dean who tortured demons for kicks, or sacrificed his friends.
“Not around your son,” Cas said softly. “I get it.”
“Thanks.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Two years.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “Sam made me promise to find Lisa-Ben’s mom-when the apocalypse was over, settle down, have a normal life.”
“Where is she?”
“Lisa?”
“Who else?”
Dean smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Turns out that living with someone is a lot different than the dream of living with someone.”
Cas snorted. “Tell me about it.” He tapped ash over the side of the balcony, feeling a little calmer now.
The buzzer rang from inside the apartment, and Dean pushed himself off the wall. “That would be the pizza.”
Cas quickly finished his cigarette and followed Dean inside. The smell of bread, melted cheese, and meat had his mouth watering and his stomach growling. He waited for Dean to pick up a piece, and then dove in.
“When was the last time you had a real meal?” Dean asked as Cas inhaled half his piece in just a few bites.
Cas shrugged. “I’ve been eating out of vending machines the last few days mostly.”
“No wonder you’re hungry.”
“And I haven’t had pizza in years.” Cas was feeling a little steadier as he ate. Even now, years after becoming fully human, he wasn’t quite used to the demands his body placed on him.
Dean watched him carefully. “You want a drink? I’ve got a bottle of Jack.”
“Yeah, sure.”
The bottle was three-quarters full, and Dean set a couple of glasses on the table, pouring a healthy portion in each. “Drink up.”
Cas threw the drink back, and held his glass out again.
Dean raised an eyebrow but refilled it anyway. “Pace yourself, Cas. We’ve got all evening.”
Cas just raised his glass. “To lost friends.”
Dean’s expression darkened. “To lost friends.”
Dean nursed his first drink, and stopped after the second. “You’re going to let me drink alone?” Cas asked, his words slurred.
“I have to get up and work in the morning,” Dean replied, letting Cas pour another shot for himself. “You can sleep in.”
Cas smirked. “That’s the trouble with being an ex-angel-no past, no future.”
“You’ve got a future,” Dean shot back. “You’re alive, aren’t you?”
Cas shook his head. “And why I’m alive is the great question. There are others-Ellen and Jo Harvelle, for example-who deserved to live more than I did.”
Dean winced; he tried not to think about Ellen and Jo, those last moments in the hardware store, or the failure to kill Lucifer. Two more people on a long list of the lost, people who wouldn’t have been dead if not for Dean. “How did they die where-or when-you were?” Dean asked suddenly, needing to know.
“How?” Cas stared at him, his eyes glassy and unfocused. “You know how.”
“I know how they died here, but maybe it was different,” Dean replied. “I had the Colt-we tried to trap Lucifer as he raised Death. Jo got torn apart by hellhounds; Ellen stayed with her to blow them up. The Colt didn’t work, and they died for nothing.”
Cas was shaking his head. “No, that’s-that’s not how it worked. Ellen was killed by Croats, and Jo was infected. You shot her yourself.”
Dean rubbed his eyes. He’d letting Ellen and Jo blow themselves up had been terrible, but that was worse. “Well, that’s fucked up.”
“You started torturing with a willing spirit after that.”
“Yeah, I got that.”
They didn’t speak much after that. Dean found a baseball game on the television, and Cas drank steadily until he passed out on the couch. Once Cas was out, Dean turned the TV off, and moved Cas so that he was stretched out a little more comfortably. Dean spread a blanket over Cas, then stood looking down at him for a long moment.
In sleep, with the thick stubble and uncombed hair, Cas had an air of vulnerability that his sharp tongue and sarcasm masked when he was awake. Dean couldn’t quite shake the sense of responsibility he felt for Cas.
Cas’ words echoed in his mind: “I did it-all of it-for you.”
Dean shook his head, turning away and heading to his bed, where he tossed and turned for most of the night. When he did sleep, he dreamed of hell-Sam on the rack, Lucifer torturing Dean while wearing Sam’s face, Sam and Adam locked in a never-ending struggle for dominance.
Dean hadn’t dreamed of hell in months, but Cas’ appearance had dredged up all kinds of old memories, and when he dragged himself out of bed, it was with relief that he wouldn’t have to risk the nightmares again.
Going to work gave him a respite, too, and he left a scribbled note for Cas on the kitchen table and headed out.
Dean was halfway to the shop when his phone rang, and a quick look at the caller ID showed Lisa’s number. “Hey, beautiful.”
“Flattery gets you nowhere, you charmer,” Lisa shot back, but he could hear the smile in her voice. “I was just calling to remind you that my parents are taking Ben this weekend.”
“I remembered.” Dean had remembered only because it meant that he didn’t have to juggle Cas’ appearance with a weekend spent with Ben. Eventually, they would have to meet, but Dean wanted a little more time to figure out who and what had brought Cas back. He also wanted to be certain that Cas would be okay to be around Ben.
Dean didn’t want any part of his old life touching his son. Ben’s life was going to be different.
“Do you want to get together this weekend?” she asked. “I’m going out with some friends tomorrow, and you’d be welcome to join us.”
Dean hesitated. “Actually, I had a friend come into town yesterday.”
There was a pause, and Dean could sense her surprise, both in her silence, and when she said, “A friend? From-”
She let the word hang, and Dean sighed as he pulled into the parking lot. “From before,” he confirmed.
“Is he-she-staying long?”
“I told you that I wouldn’t allow Ben to be touched by this kind of thing,” he said, trying to keep the heat out of his voice. “The same is true now.”
“You may not have a choice, Dean. I know that. I’m not making any accusations. I’m just asking.”
He heard the reproach in her voice, and he sighed, knowing that he was more sensitive to the possibility that Ben would be hurt by his past than Lisa was.
Lisa liked to point out that they hadn’t been targeted by the Changelings because of Dean, but that Dean had saved him because of who he was and what he did for a living. Dean had never been able to bring himself to completely believe her.
Too many memories had been dredged up with Cas’ arrival, the old grief over Dean’s losses sharp and stinging. “I’m sorry. We talked last night, about a lot of stuff I hadn’t thought about for a long time. He-Cas and I-we were close, once.”
“I understand. Did he know your brother?”
“Yeah, he did. He’s had a rough time of it lately.”
“And you’re taking care of him,” Lisa said.
“I’m giving him a place to stay, that’s all.”
“Is there anyone you don’t look after?” It was an old refrain. Lisa would ask if he was taking care of himself, and Dean would claim he was. He knew she cared about him, and he knew she wanted the best for him, but Dean had a hard time letting anyone but Sam watch his back.
But since it was an old argument, and he had arrived at the shop, Dean didn’t feel the need to go into it again. “I’ll talk to you later, Lisa.”
She sighed and allowed the evasion. “Have a good day, Dean.”
“You, too.”
Dean settled into work, losing himself in engine parts and oil. By the time he broke off for lunch, he had regained some of his equilibrium.
Although Dean could have gone to the library to research Cas’ sudden reappearance, he had no idea where to start. Sam might have known-Dean shoved that thought aside ruthlessly; Sam had been the researcher, not him, but there was no bringing Sam back.
That left two people Dean could think of-Bobby and Castiel. Castiel might answer Dean’s call, but Dean had never been the praying kind, and he didn’t want to start now just on principle.
Heaven and hell could fuck off as far as Dean was concerned, and that included the archangel Castiel-which left Bobby.
“Hey, Dean! You coming to lunch with us?” Tommy called.
“Gotta make a phone call,” Dean replied. “Maybe another time.”
Tommy waved, and Dean headed around back to get some privacy. Bobby’s number was still in his contacts, and he took a deep breath before dialing.
He didn’t talk to Bobby much these days; there were too many memories, too much baggage. Having Cas around, even just for an evening, had reminded Dean of why he tried so hard to forget his past.
“Dean! Where you been, boy?”
“Working,” Dean replied. “Just like always. I got a question for you, Bobby.”
“Of course you do,” Bobby replied. “You owe me a visit, Dean.”
Dean sighed. “I know I do. Soon, I promise.”
“I’m holding you to it. Now, what can I do for you? I thought you were done hunting.”
“I am done,” Dean insisted. “But Cas showed up on my doorstep yesterday.”
“The archangel? I thought he was busy cleaning up the ranks of the host.”
“Last I heard, he was. It’s a different Cas. He’s human, and he’s from two years in the future.” Dean ran a hand through his hair, realizing that he’d never told Bobby about how Zachariah had sent him into the future, although he had told Sam. “Back when Zachariah was trying to get me to say yes, he sent me to the future for three days. It was 2014, Cas was human, and Sam was Lucifer’s meatsuit. The other me tried to kill Lucifer with the Colt, right after he sent Cas and a few others to their deaths.”
“And this is that Cas?”
“Yeah. He said he showed up in Omaha a few days ago. He was dying, and then he woke up in a park, in the same spot he’d been in when he first became human. We need to know why.”
“I’ll bet you do. You think it’s another apocalypse?”
“Let’s hope not. I’m done with that.”
Bobby snorted. “Uh huh.”
“So, will you help?”
“I’ll see what I can dig up,” Bobby promised. “I don’t know where I’m going to find that kind of information, though. You may want to try getting in contact with that angel buddy of yours.”
Dean laughed, although it held no humor. “Yeah, maybe. I’d rather avoid it if I can, though.”
“I’ll call if I find something.”
“Thanks, Bobby.”
“Take care of yourself, Dean.”
“Yeah, same to you.”
Dean hung up, shoved his phone in his pocket, and leaned back against the outside wall of the garage. Bobby was part of the life he’d left behind with Sam’s death, and as much as Dean loved him, it was easier to bury his past.
Now, he had Cas sleeping on his couch, and Bobby researching, and Dean couldn’t help but wonder if his past was finally catching up to him.
Cas woke from a nightmare of hands and teeth tearing at his flesh, drenched in a cold sweat. When he sat up, his hands were trembling, and he gripped his knees tightly.
He searched for a cigarette, cursing when he realized that he only had one left.
Remembering what Dean had said about smoking inside, Cas went out onto the balcony, slowly getting himself under control. By the time he flicked the butt into the parking lot, his breathing, at least, was back to normal.
He found Dean’s note on the kitchen table, and raised an eyebrow when he saw Dean’s chicken scratch. “Had to go to work. There’s leftover pizza in the fridge and some other food. Don’t have a spare set of keys to give you yet, but I’ll get one made today. See you tonight.”
Cas still felt jittery and on edge, and after only a moment’s hesitation, he went into the bathroom and began rifling through the medicine cabinet. Dean didn’t keep much on hand-off-brand over the counter pain killers, a half-empty bottle of cough syrup, and a prescription bottle of muscle relaxants-only two, though, and Cas suspected that Dean would get pissed off of he used the rest of those.
But he remembered the coughing fit brought on by his first cigarette-this body didn’t have the tolerance he’d built up over two years of using. He’d take a dose or two, enough to soften the blunt edges, and he’d sleep the day away.
Cas washed the cough syrup down with a piece of pizza and then found the remote control, flipping through the channels slowly, waiting for the medicine to kick in.
Cas wanted the soporific effect, and he wanted to distance himself from being human. Maybe the world wasn’t ending, but Cas was still human, and still bitter at whoever or whatever had brought him back.
As far as he was concerned, nothing had changed. He didn’t want any part of this life, and with the apocalypse over that just meant he was more useless than ever.
Chapter Two