A Wish & A Prayer...
Title: A Wish & A Prayer
Author: fate_incomplete
Rating: PG
Warnings: Angst
Spoilers: up to 6.03
Characters: Dean/Castiel (mention of unhappy Dean/Lisa)
Word Count: ~12,700
Summary: Dean wasn’t sure what was real anymore, he wasn’t sure he cared... his brother was gone, Castiel was back in heaven, and he was living a life he wasn’t sure he wanted , reality was something he could do without. So when Castiel keeps appearing in the back seat of the Impala, he’s not surprised, he just thinks he’s finally lost it…after all, no one ever gets what they want…
Set in the year between 5.22 and 6.03
A/N: Thanks to pyjamagurl for her thoughts and beta, you're awesome hun.
...................
Castiel was scrunched into the back seat of the Impala. His shoulders hunched as if the space was too small, too constricting. As always he was sitting behind Dean, as if being that little bit closer made the confinement more bearable.
He had no need to travel this way, but did anyway. Had no reason to be there at all, but here he was. Maybe it was a shared bond too deep to let go, guilt, obligation, a selfish desire to hold onto something neither thought they should have. Maybe it was to simply share something that was inherently Dean, his roaming and fiercely independent nature, borne from a lifetime spent on the road and grief from what had been lost. Neither questioned why, in the end it wasn’t important.
Sometimes Dean would look in the rear view mirror to see the back seat empty, Castiel zapping off somewhere, the angel equivalent of stretching his legs, or maybe gone to deal with something they never spoke of. He would silently pop back in sooner or later. Dean’s eyes always flicked to the mirror at his return, knowing when he was there instinctively. Castiel’s presence brought an easing of tension between his shoulders, and an inexplicable urge to smile, no matter how dark his mood was.
Castiel leant his head against the window, his eyes taking in the scenery as it passed by. Blue eyes that burned with age and knowledge, yet took every passing scene in as though for the first time. An innate curiosity, tempered with a detachment of someone who had seen the bigger picture, yet was fascinated as he only now saw the simple strokes that made it.
They never said much, words were mostly meaningless. Sometimes Dean would talk, not expecting answers, content just to have someone listen. Sometimes Castiel would speak, his words were few, their impact greater for it. The silences spoke more than their words. They always had.
Another small town USA passed by, a blur of insignificance, yet its mere existence signifying everything. Life went on, dreams, hopes, love, tragedies. Another 100 miles slipped past in silence. Farmland gave way to forests, back to farmland again, more towns.
Castiel shifted slightly, his eyes turning from the window to watch Dean in the rear view mirror. Their eyes met briefly in the reflection. Green eyes weary, from too much given and lost. Blue eyes cool, detached, but pained all the more for it. All the emotion still there, though the means to truly feel it lost, the memory of it haunting in a way that perhaps none could understand. These moments they spent together were the only time anything felt remotely right.
Dean pulled into a driveway in Cicero Indiana, a home that would never really be his. He turned the car off, sat for a moment, not quite ready to go inside, never really ready, no matter how many times he came ‘home’. His eyes flicked to the rear view mirror, as they did every time, knowing what he would see, but the act had become a reflex he couldn’t help.
The back seat was empty. It always was.
...................
A month earlier...
Lisa walked into the kitchen to see Dean still doing the dishes. She stood quietly in the doorway watching him. He was staring out the window, his hands idly sloshing water over a plate. He didn’t notice her presence and she tried not to see a deeper meaning in that.
She could only just see the side of his face, but she knew the look that would be in his eyes. That empty, lost look, like he had left too much of himself behind but didn’t have the strength or faith to go out and get it back, or even know where to find it. She knew that look all too well, as much as he tried to hide it from her.
The last few months hadn’t been easy. She cared for Dean. She saw how great he could be with Ben. If only he could let go of his past and let himself exist fully in the now, in their lives. On her more reasonable days, Lisa wondered if it was too selfish a desire to want him to stay, to be with them. Most days, she convinced herself they were happy, that he just needed time to heal whatever emotional wounds he had gathered in his life.
Most days, she could ignore that little voice that said she would never understand just what he had been through. That he had lost too much, and being with her was just making whatever was left of him fade away. Most days, but today wasn’t one of them.
The desire to ease his burdens, to wash away all the pain he had endured, and give him the peace that had been missing all his life, was fighting with a more rational thought. That he would never find that peace, not here, maybe not anywhere. She pushed those thoughts away. She would keep trying. He deserved so much more than he had ever asked for.
She turned away rather than see that look and have to lie to herself again.
...................
The Impala sitting in the driveway caught Dean’s attention as he washed the dishes. She shone in the afternoon light. No dust or mud marring her paint work from weeks spent on the road. She’d hardly left the driveway in a month. She seemed out of place, a muscle bound black beast, trying to hide in suburbia.
His thoughts shied away from making the connection between himself and the car. He had a life, or at least he could make one here, if he could just stop the constant thoughts and images that popped into his head.
Sam eating ice cream in nowhere Nebraska aged six, Sam’s hands around his throat, Sam beaming at him with pride in some deserted field Iowa having successfully shot fruit cans from a log aged eight, Sam black eyed and killing Lilith, Sam’s head on his shoulder having fallen asleep waiting for Dad to return in some motel room aged four, Sam falling into the pit. A constant loop that seemed to chaotically jump from memory to memory, yet always came back to that last image, no matter how much he tried to fight it.
Even in his sleep, the images haunted him. Nightmares he couldn’t escape, though in his dreams it was more than just Sam that haunted him. A jumble of Dad, Mom, his brother, Bobby, Castiel, all the people they couldn’t save and hell, all mixed up together in one horrifying, never ending torment. So much guilt and loss bound up together, that at times he didn’t think he could endure it anymore.
At least he had stopped waking up screaming. Not that the nightmares had lessened, he’d just trained himself to hide them. Now he just woke silently, and stared out at the darkness until his breathing slowed, until the urge to sleep grew too strong to keep his eyes open any longer, and they would close, returning him to the nightmares.
Dean mentally shook himself as he drew his eyes away from the Impala, looking down he realised he had been cleaning the same plate for five minutes.
He forced himself to concentrate on the dishes, rather than let his mind wander off to what was lost or other places he could be right now. He had made a promise to Sam to have this life, keeping that promise was the least he could do after his brother’s sacrifice. He found his eyes drawn back to the Impala though, not noticing the water he sloshed out of the sink, that was now soaking his shirt.
He tossed the remaining plates into the sink to soak. Not bothering to dry his hands, he grabbed the Impala keys and headed outside.
He slid into the driver’s seat. Its form fitting his body from countless hours spent driving in it. He pulled out of the driveway without a thought of telling Lisa he was going out. He floored it down the quiet street, heading for the interstate on instinct. No destination in mind, just the undeniable urge to get out. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, he didn’t even glance in the rear view mirror as suburbia disappeared behind him.
...................
The purr of the Impala’s engine filled Dean’s ears. The sound almost hypnotic, washing away all thoughts. Conflict, turmoil, guilt and grief, all forgotten for a brief moment. There was just the thrum of the engine and road noise, as the tyres ate up the tarmac. He had no idea where he was going, hadn’t even given it a thought. He had taken the first road out of Cicero, heading west, and kept on going.
He paid little attention to the scenery or road signs, if anyone had been there to ask, he wouldn’t have been able to say where he was. It wasn’t until his hands started to sweat on the steering wheel, and he automatically wound down the window, that his mind clicked back in.
The rush of cool wind against his face woke him as if from a dream. He looked out the window at the seemingly unending farmland that was blurring by and frowned slightly. Looking back to the road, he slowed and pulled over onto the shoulder.
A road sign in front of him indicated straight ahead would lead to Illinois, or he could turn onto the I65 that he could see just up ahead. He sat staring at the sign, not entirely sure how he had gotten there. His thoughts shied away from the fact that the I65 was the quickest way back to Bobby’s, back to everything he had left behind.
He didn’t let himself think it, couldn’t, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the sign either.
He irritably thrust the shift into drive, pushing aside the subconscious thought that had led him in this direction. He fish tailed the Impala as he did a u-turn, heading back the way he had come, back to Cicero.
...................
Dean drove back towards Cicero at a much slower pace than he had left. His elbow was propped on the doorframe, the wind whistling in, cool against his face. Trying to keep his mind blank, trying to convince himself he was just out for a drive, stretching his legs, giving his ‘baby’ a run, anything that didn’t involve subconsciously running away from what his life had become, running back to what he had left behind. His eyes kept straying to the rear view mirror, and the way back to the I65 it showed, betraying just how unsuccessful he was being.
He shifted irritably in is seat. He was the damn master of repression, this should be easier. That life was gone, he was with Lisa now. Whatever he had was gone, the pooch was screwed, they’d saved the world and all it had cost was everything. So life wasn’t perfect and he had a hole inside of him that wouldn’t go away, that no amount of caresses from Lisa could ever fill, so what. He was Dean fucking Winchester, and this was just his screwed up life.
It was what he had to deal with for screwing everything up. He sold his soul to bring Sam back to life, which of course led to him going to hell, where he broke the first seal and started the damn apocalypse, that he hadn’t been able to stop, fucked everything up for the only decent angel there was, screwed a few more things up until, what do you know, Sam ends up in hell. Yeah, being Dean fucking Winchester was just awesome.
He’d tried letting out all his anger, gotten drunk and cursed and screamed to the heavens till he was hoarse. Of course it hadn’t helped, the anger was still there, he was just too worn and weary to keep on raging. He’d spent weeks doing research, spoken to everyone he could think of to try and find a way to get Sam back. None of that had helped either, as he hadn’t found a damn thing; not even anything resembling a desperate no-hope-of-succeeding idea.
He hadn’t spoken to Bobby. He couldn’t bring himself to face him. He hadn’t spoken to Castiel, wasn’t sure he could face him either. Even in all his cursing to Heaven and desperate search to help Sam, he hadn’t once asked Castiel for help. Wasn’t even sure if Castiel would come, he shouldn’t.
Castiel was the one thing that could take his thoughts off his brother. Not that it was much of a reprieve. There was too much guilt there to. He had asked everything from the angel, and Castiel had given it to him. And what did he offer in return? Nothing, not a damn thing. Not even a ‘thanks for saving my ass’, ‘thanks for standing with me against your family, for losing your home to offer me a chance to save my brother, for getting yourself blown up, twice, to give me a chance to get to Sam.’ No, he hadn’t done a thing for the angel.
There was only one good thing to come out of everything that had happened. Castiel was back in Heaven; where Dean couldn’t ask for anything more from him, couldn’t cause him any more pain.
“I’m sorry Cas,” Dean whispered. “You should have left me where you found me.”
His throat constricted with the words, raw emotion shining in his eyes. He had been trying for months to bury everything, to not let it affect Lisa and Ben. Back in the Impala and alone, it was all bubbling up to the surface.
“Cas I’m…”
What he thought? What could he say? No words could undo the pain he had caused, the cold shoulder and harsh words he had given, when Castiel had all but fallen to stand by him. When he had been human, and lost and drowning in despair and looking for anything to have faith in, when he kept fighting when he had every reason not to. No words could undo that or make up for it. ‘I’m sorry’, ‘thank you,’ had become pathetic, meaningless words that could never encompass what the angel had done for him, and what it meant to have someone so ready to sacrifice their life for him.
Dean’s eyes closed briefly against the pain and guilt. Images of Castiel floated in the darkness behind his closed lids. Blue eyes full of anger and power, blue eyes full of doubt and turmoil, blue eyes full of sorrow and lost hope. The tilt of his head, the slight curving of his lips in an untested smile. Cas I…I miss you…
He opened his eyes looking back to the road ahead, fittingly empty and alone; no other cars in sight.
He drove for a few more miles. He couldn’t help the subconscious flick of his eyes to the rear view mirror, and the way back to Bobby’s, one more time.
“Jesus Christ!” he cursed, jolting the steering wheel to one side, and nearly swerving off the road.
Blue eyes stared calmly back at him from the rear seat.
“What the hell?” Dean asked, barley managing to drag his eyes from the mirror to watch the road, straightening the wheel, before his eyes flicked back to the mirror again, not quite believing that what he was seeing was real.
“Hello Dean.”
...................
“Cas?”
Castiel continued to stare back at him in the mirror, as inscrutable as ever.
“I thought you went back to heaven?”
Castiel turned away to look out the window. “I did.”
Dean couldn’t quite put his finger on the hint of emotion he saw cross those blue eyes before Castiel had turned away.
“Hmm, how’s that going?” Dean asked, not quite able to keep the edge of betrayal out of his voice. Despite all his thoughts of what he owed the angel, and the small tingle in the pit of his stomach at seeing him, the old edge to his voice was back. That defensive bluster he instinctively put up against the world.
Castiel’s eyes flicked to Dean, before turning back to the farmland passing by the window, his lips pressing a little tighter. “It is fine, different.”
Dean tried to study the angel in the mirror while still keeping his eyes on the road. At first glance he looked to be back to that same angel Dean had first met two years ago. Yet there was something there, hiding in the tight purse of his lips, the hint of weariness in the hold of his shoulders, the trace of emotion haunting his eyes. No, this wasn’t the angel he had met in that barn what seemed like an eon ago. This was new, different. A mixture of the man he once knew and the being he once feared.
Castiel may have had all his powers returned, overwhelming all his human experiences, yet there was so much of those messy human emotions still lurking within his eyes. Veiled by the returned ‘angelness’, but there nonetheless. Dean couldn’t help the slight easing of something within him, at the indication that the Cas he had come to know was still there.
His thoughts from before Castiel’s sudden appearance came crashing back to him. There was so much he should say, yet there was no way to say it. He looked back to the mirror, catching Castiel’s eye as he looked back at him. There was a slight softening of the angel’s eyes, as if he understood. Words weren’t necessary.
It wasn’t enough, but it would have to do. Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling as though his emotions were laid bare under the angel’s gaze; Castiel seeing more of him than anyone else ever did. Dean looked away and cleared his throat self consciously.
“Not that it ain’t great to see you Cas, but what brings you this way?”
Silence was his only answer. His eyes flicked back to the mirror. The rear seat was empty.
Dean couldn’t decide whether to sigh with frustration, or to smile fondly at the angel’s uncanny ability to avoid questions and goodbyes alike.
He shook his head slightly and smirked as the fondness won out. The smile lasted until he reached the outskirts of Cicero.
...................
Dean lay in bed, hands behind his head as he stared at the shifting patterns the street lights were casting on the ceiling. Lisa lay still next to him, her back to him. He had mumbled some excuse to her for why he had been gone for nearly four hours, after disappearing without letting her know he was leaving. She pretended to believe it. She was a good woman, with more to risk than just her heart. He knew he should try harder, but his mind kept drifting back to Castiel, sitting in the back seat of the Impala, like he had never left.
As his eyelids grew heavy he wondered if he hadn’t imagined the whole thing. Castiel had only been there a fleeting moment. It seemed so unlikely that the angel would bother with him now that the apocalypse had been averted. He tried to push the thoughts of the angel aside, but as he fell asleep, the image of blue eyes in the rear view mirror, drifted up to meet him.
...................
Dean watched as Ben raced out the door to the Impala. “After I drop him off to school I’ve got a few errands to run,” he said as he turned back to Lisa.
“Will you be done in time to pick him up after school?” she asked as she turned to the kitchen table, picking up her bag to head out to work herself.
“Sure. I’ll see you tonight.” He placed a gentle kiss to her cheek, not meeting her eyes before following Ben outside.
Lisa lifted her eyes to the door as he closed it, her hand absently lifting to her cheek, feeling the outline of his chaste kiss. She sighed, trying not to think of how that kiss had been more that of a friend than a lover.
Dean listened absently as Ben chatted animatedly about something to do with his friends on the drive to school, waved idly as he ran into the school yard. The feeling of disconnection continued to grow as he picked up oil and new blades for the lawn mower.
He sat in the Impala watching the bustle of people going about their lives. It all seemed so distant, so foreign. He glanced over at the burger and fries sitting on the passenger seat untouched. There was hollowness inside him, that greasy food had no hope of filling.
He turned the key and listened to the Impala hum to life. He drove out of town, hoping to ease his troubled thoughts. He had a few hours to kill before picking Ben up. Just going for a drive to pass the time couldn’t hurt. He refused to acknowledge the hope that Castiel would drop in again if he was alone, out on the road where he belonged.
...................
It was nearly time to head back to pick Ben up before he felt that sensation in the back of his mind, that electric prickle across the back of his neck that announced he was not alone. His lips tilted ever so slightly in a smile at the presence.
“Hey Cas,” Dean said without taking his eyes off the road.
“Hello Dean,” came the familiar response.
Neither spoke for a moment. Dean’s eyes flicked to the mirror to find Castiel studying him with calm blue eyes.
“I take it this is just a social call? No ominous news to impart, world’s not ending again is it?” Dean asked wearily.
Castiel tilted his head, pausing for a moment before replying. “I’m not here to impart news, ominous or otherwise.” He turned to look out the window. “You don’t need to worry about the world ending.”
Dean wasn’t sure if that meant the world was fine, or that Castiel just didn’t think he was worth bothering with news of doom. At the moment he didn’t care. He was tired. One way or the other, the world could get along just fine without his help. He had played his part in saving it once.
A despondent sigh escaped Dean’s lips. Castiel turned back to study him, his brow furrowed slightly as a hint of doubt crept into his eyes, as he reconsidered the decision of coming back to Dean, of dredging up all that Dean had left behind
“Never thought it’d end like this. Me and a freakin apple pie life.” Dean’s hands gripped the steering wheel tighter as he spoke.
Castiel could feel the turmoil within Dean. There was the obvious grief for Sam, but there was more, more sorrow, more missing from within Dean than could be explained by the loss of his brother. There was a desire for something else, that he had clamped down so hard, it was almost extinguished.
Castiel wasn’t completely sure what it was. Something about it resonated with the emptiness he felt within himself. He had felt Dean’s tumultuous emotions and heard that whispered I miss you from heaven. It had drawn him here.
Heaven was a mess, and Castiel found himself heading full tilt towards another war. He had wanted to seek out Dean, for his advice, his help. Yet hesitated at the weariness he felt in him, at the anger he saw in him the last time they were together. That whispered admission had drawn him back without thought though, an undeniable pull that he had been both unable and unwilling to resist. He still couldn’t bring himself to ask anything from Dean, not after everything he had been through.
It was illogical to return to him, to remain here. Yet Castiel stayed where he was, sitting in the back seat of the Impala, watching the landscape blur past the window. Finding something else instead of the help he sought. He found a refuge from the surrounding storm. A sense of peace he hadn’t felt in too long descending over him.
Neither spoke again. As Dean drove through the outskirts of Cicero, nearing Ben’s school, he felt Castiel’s silent exodus. The emptiness and disconnection expanded again with his departure
...................
Sweat drenched sheets entwined around Dean’s body as he slept. He woke with a jolt, a whispered name on his lips, eyes wide and frantic as they stared at the ceiling above him, momentarily unsure of where he was. His breathing came hard and shallow, his throat dry from both sleep, and the fear and raw need his dreams.
He glanced to the other side of the bed, almost sighing with relief when he saw it was empty, somewhat easing the guilt that the name on his lips hadn’t been hers. He closed his eyes, rubbed a hand across his face, the image of blue eyes still lingering.
He opened his eyes again and stared back up at the ceiling, sleep still clinging to his body. A slight blush tinted his cheeks, as he thought of the name torn from his lips as he woke. He tried to recall the dream, to remember what had caused that desire drenched whisper, but it slipped away from him.
It had been weeks since Castiel had first appeared in his car. He knew that since then his dreams, his nightmares, had changed. He just couldn’t hold onto to them long enough to figure out how, or why.
He had found himself driving more and more over those weeks. Whenever Lisa was at work and Ben at school, and even sometimes when they were at home. He drove nowhere, took every road in and out of Cicero, every back road in a 50 mile radius of the town. Just driving, waiting for his mostly silent passenger to drop in.
He couldn’t admit it, but he was driving to escape, to try and catch a glimpse of the life he left behind. Lisa and Ben acting as a tether that kept him driving in circles around Cicero. Castiel was the doorway to freedom that compelled him to take flight; a door he could never open. Guilt and an invading sense of worthlessness had long since hidden the key.
He had started to drive further. Driving for hours before the guilt, and that little voice in the back of his mind set in. Whispering that he had made a promise, that he had to keep it, Sam was gone, that life was gone, this was who he was now. He got further and further away, but always turned back.
Castiel wasn’t always there. Sometimes Dean would drive for hours through the farmland surrounding Cicero alone. His thoughts calmed by the familiar throb of the Impala engine, the wind whistling through the open window. It was whenever his thoughts turned maudlin, the times when that overwhelming sense of loss threatened to consume him, that Castiel would appear. Offering mostly silence; his mere presence stemmed the flow of despair.
Sometimes when Castiel appeared he would seem tenser, more rigid than usual. He never spoke during those times. He would just suddenly be there, blue eyes worn, lips held tight with strain from troubles he never mentioned, that they never spoke of. He would sit in silence in the back seat, watching the flow of scenery out the window, until his weariness and unrest appeared to lessen. The stiffness of his shoulders would ease, and blue eyes would turn to Dean, the briefest of moments of peace in them, before it was consumed by an undefinable sadness, as the barriers went back up and he would disappear.
Every time Dean returned to Lisa’s house and pulled into the drive way, he would be alone. Every time it got harder and harder to get out of the car and walk back to what his life had become. His eyes would flick to the back seat, and wonder just how much was real, and how much was born of hope and the desire for something else.
He sighed and got out of bed, trying to push the dream aside as he dressed. Failing miserably, he headed downstairs to where he could hear Lisa and Ben.
...................
Lisa watched as Dean pushed the bacon and eggs she had cooked around his plate. They had long since gotten cold. She had finished her own breakfast 20 minutes ago. Ben had left for a friends place earlier; it had been the only moment all morning that Dean had appeared to be aware of his surroundings.
She chewed her bottom lip as her concern grew. Dean rarely spoke of what happened before he had arrived back on her doorstep almost 4 months ago. She hadn’t pushed. She could see in his eyes that what little he had said was probably more than he’d truly been ready to give. She knew Sam was gone. She wasn’t entirely sure how, something to do with the devil, and sacrificing himself to end the apocalypse.
It had all been too much really. The incident with the changelings and learning what Dean really did, had opened her eyes somewhat, but angels and demons, and the end of the world, had been too much to take in.
She thought he had been starting to deal with it. Those first few weeks had been hell to watch, as the grief tore him apart. He had spent those weeks drinking and researching, waking from what little sleep he got screaming. He had let her hold him till he would fall back to sleep. The nightmares seemed to have eased after a while. She had thought he was moving on.
He started helping around the house. She actually saw him smile at times when he was with Ben. The smile lighting up his face, and for a brief moment, pushing aside the mask he hid behind. Those moments had been fleeting, but in them she had seen the brash, roguish younger man he had been when they first met.
The last few weeks he had been slipping away from her again though. He seemed distracted, disconnected. She wondered if it was some sort of delayed shock, post traumatic stress. She didn’t know what to do to help him, except be there for him.
She had her moments of doubt, wondered what on earth she had been thinking letting him into her life, into Ben’s life. Then she would see him showing Ben how to fix something on the lawn mower, or throwing a baseball. He would smile, and she would see just what he could be; what they could have, if he only let himself have it. If he’d only let her in.
Watching him still pushing the food around his plate was getting on her nerves. She reached over and picked the plate up.
He looked up at her with eyes that didn’t seem to see her. “Sorry, I wasn’t hungry,” he said with a shrug. His eyes dropped back to the table.
Another stab of concern ate at her. Dean was always hungry. “Dean, are you ok?”
He looked back up, struggling to put on a smile for her. “Sure, I’m fine.”
He carried the rest of the plates to the sink for her, glancing out the window to the Impala as he did. He turned back and grabbed his coat from the back of the chair he had been sitting in.
“I might head out for a while this morning,” he said absently.
“Ok. Maybe we could do something together this afternoon, before Ben gets home?”
“Sure.” He looked up at her briefly before walking out the door.
She watched the door close behind him. She had no idea where he went all the time. What he did for all those hours he would be out in the Impala. She knew it was nothing as trivial as going to bars, or meeting other women. She knew she should ask, but something in his eyes stopped her, and she never asked out of fear it was something that was far more likely to tear them apart.
...................
Dean knew Lisa was worried about him. Probably rightly so, he was worried about himself too. Nothing seemed real anymore. For weeks he had been walking through life like it was a dream. Everything seemed so distant, unimportant. Except for when he was in his car and Castiel would appear.
He had started to question his sanity. The world seemed to be slipping away and he didn’t care. That couldn’t be good. He spent as much time driving as he could. When he wasn’t on the road, he was thinking about it.
All the loss and pain was consuming him, when it was at its darkest Castiel always seemed to appear. He found himself wondering how the angel was always there when he needed him most. Why would Castiel, with better things to concern himself with, show up in the back seat of the Impala, and drive around to nowhere in particular with him. It made no sense.
He wondered if maybe it wasn’t really Castiel. Maybe after all the shit he had dealt with he had finally lost it. Maybe he was just out here driving around alone talking to himself. His subconscious conjuring up Castiel rather than deal with everything alone.
He smirked at the thought. If he was out here talking to himself, you think he’d hallucinate someone a little chattier.
The smile didn’t last. The niggling thought that he was losing it becoming stronger. Though did it really matter anyway? He wasn’t needed anymore. The apocalypse was over, Sam was gone, and he had no way to bring him back. He had promised not to even try, not that he had been able to keep that part of the promise.
He had looked everywhere for a way to get Sam back. He had found none. His brother was rotting in hell, and he was still here. Trying to live the life Sam wanted for him, desperately trying to hold onto his brother by keeping that promise.
He sighed and tried to shake the line of thought. He saw a road sign ahead, Lucasville Ohio. He hadn’t even realise he had left Indiana. He glanced at the clock. He had been driving for three hours.
He felt a stab of guilt, as that small voice reminded him he had ties now. He couldn’t just drive across the country anymore. He tried to ignore it, tried to let the comfort of the road hold him for a little while longer. He drove for another hour. As he hit the West Virginia state line he subconsciously gave into the voice, turning right he began to circle back to Indiana.
As if the pull of his promise, of his new life, sapped his will to fight the reality of everything he had lost, his thoughts turned back to Sam, back to that moment in the cemetery when he had lost him.
“I never thought I’d survive the apocalypse. I’m not sure that I did,” he said quietly, his eyes glancing in the rear view mirror, blue eyes staring back at him. “The best part of me never left that cemetery.”
Castiel’s brow furrowed in that way it did when he failed to understand Dean’s lack of faith in himself. “You and your brother stopped the apocalypse Dean. Everything after that has meaning because of you.”
“Meaning for who?”
Castiel’s eye softened, wanting to offer comfort but unsure just how to. His last words from the aftermath, the echo of ‘peace or freedom’, hang heavy between them.
...................
They had stopped the apocalypse, but the cost had been far higher than Castiel had imagined. He could see that loss consuming Dean. He could see the depth of it, every facet. Yet not all of it was tied up with the loss of Sam. His confusion as to the source of that storm of emotion, only served to amplify the uncertainty of his own emotions, thoughts, whatever it was he felt now that he was an angel again.
When he had first been restored to his full powers, he thought that maelstrom of chaos that being human had encompassed, had been left behind. He thought he had been grateful for that. Yet the longer he had been back in Heaven, the more those emotions seemed to have seeped back in. An emptiness had been building within him. A muted form of that despair and loss he had felt when his father had abandoned them, when he had been alone, lost and faithless.
He had so much to deal with in Heaven, with the chaos his actions, and the aversion of the apocalypse, had left. He had tried to ignore the pull of returning to Dean, yet he couldn’t. The more he tried, the stronger it seemed to become. These moments spent with Dean, were the only time that the emptiness eased, revealing something far more unknowable, some deeper feeling that Castiel didn’t want to address right now; that he didn’t have the time or luxury to ponder over. So for now he revelled in these stolen moments away from Heaven, from his duty.
He no longer knew if he came back for Dean, to try and ease the burden of loss he carried, or if he came back for himself. For that ever so brief moment of peace from the turmoil of his existence he found only here.
He wasn’t even sure if there was a difference.
...................
Dean stopped at a diner by a river in some small town he didn’t know the name of. When he walked back out with the customary burger, fries and pie, he saw the back seat of the Impala was empty. He sighed looking down at the food he was carrying, his hunger having left with Castiel. He was about to toss the food onto the passenger seat when he noticed the trench coat clad angel walking down by the water’s edge.
Dean walked down worn wooden steps that lead down to the rocky bed. Castiel had apparently noticed him following, and stood waiting a few hundred metres downstream, staring out over the river where it wound its way through rocky pools.
He looked lost in thought, and Dean wondered what was on the angel’s mind. Castiel had been through so much since they first met, that change was inevitable. Dean still wasn’t sure what he had expected when Castiel had become a fully fledged angel again, when Castiel left him alone to return to Heaven.
He certainly hadn’t expected him to turn up in the back seat of the Impala, all familiar loaded silence and deep blue eyes. Hadn’t expected him to keep appearing, to the point where blue eyes in a rear view mirror followed him everywhere, even into his dreams.
This was the first time since Lawrence that Dean had seen Castiel anywhere other than in the Impala. It was vaguely disturbing, and strangely exhilarating at the same time.
They were several hundred metres downstream, the diner now out of sight around a bend in the river. The small town and highway hidden behind trees, they were alone, away from prying eyes. Castiel seemed so out of place, standing amongst the wild backdrop of the river and forest, yet so at home at the same time. The business suit belonged anywhere else, yet the ancient, weary look of Castiel’s eyes was perfectly at home. Both a reminder of what Dean had spent the last four months hiding from.
Dean reached where Castiel was standing and leant back against a large boulder, idly eating his fries, as he looked out over the view. It was pretty, peaceful. Castiel didn’t seem inclined to speak, as usual, for the moment Dean took comfort in the silence, in the easy companionship.
It was the most he had taken notice of the world around him in what seemed like months. The gentle sound of wind in the trees behind them, the calming sound of water passing over the rocks, the occasional call of a bird or some insect; it was like the world was suddenly coming back to life around him. He soaked it all in, let it wash over him. The coarse feel of the rock beneath him grounded him in reality for the moment. He looked over to Castiel, half expecting him to not be there.
He studied Castiel, let the peacefulness settle over him, as it did the strangeness of the last couple of weeks or months seemed so stark. It had all been like a dream, all blurring together. Nights filled with images of screaming torment as he slept. Days filled with hours spent alone in the Impala. He realised he had never seen Castiel when there had been other people around, even now they were alone.
“Nothing seems real anymore,” Dean said as he looked out over the river.
Castiel’s eyes narrowed with confused concern as he looked sideways at Dean.
“Everything from the last few months is just jumbled together, nothing makes sense. Like it’s all just some messed up dream I’m trying to wake up from.”
“You have been through a great deal in the last few years Dean. You’re brother…I imagine it gets easier.” Castiel knew it wouldn’t, Dean was headstrong when it came to Sam, lost without him, but it seemed like something he should say.
Dean looked over at Castiel briefly. “It’s not just that.” His eyes turned back to the view before them, as if the words he was looking for could be found out there somewhere. “I made a promise to Sam, to leave our lives behind.”
“I know.” Castiel said quietly.
He didn’t understand why Sam had thought Dean would find happiness, peace, by running away from who he was. He refrained from saying anything though. He understood that the hunter’s life had never been easy, that Dean deserved so much more than he would ever ask for, than he believed he was worthy of.
Dean knew nothing but the hunter’s life, and didn’t quite fit in anywhere else. Castiel wondered why Sam didn’t see that, or if he had just looked past that, wanting Dean to have the life neither of them had gotten the chance to live. Castiel wouldn’t interfere in Dean’s decision to keep that promise to his brother, not if it gave him a chance at peace. Not if it gave Dean something to hold on to.
“I just don’t know if I can,” Dean continued quietly. His jaw clenched against the well of emotions that was threatening to overflow.
“I’m tired. I’ve been tired of it all for a long time. Even before hell. But it’s all I know. There’s always been this part of me…this part that wanted to be done with it all. That just wanted our family back. Wanted normal, but now…Normal was Dad, Sam and me on the road. This just seems like anything but normal, it’s surreal.”
Dean looked back to Castiel. “Only time anything seems right is when I’m driving, when you’re there. And I don’t even know if you’re real.”
Castiel’s head tilted as he studied Dean. “I’m real Dean.”
“Hmm, of course you’d say that,” Dean scoffed, and Castiel frowned in question. Obviously his hallucination would say it’s real. “Doesn’t matter.”
Real or not, it was the only thing that felt right in the world they had saved, losing themselves in the process.
Castiel stepped closer to him, blue eyes open and empathetic. “Dean, I am real.”
Castiel stood so close Dean could feel his breath on his cheek as he spoke, could feel warmth emanating from him.
It felt so real. He looked into Castiel’s eyes, so close, so familiar. Without thinking he reached out and laid his hand on Castiel’s shoulder. It was felt solid, he could feel the flesh beneath the trench coat, its warmth radiating through into his hand. His eyes fixated on his hand where it lay, feeling the granite strength of the angel.
He felt more than saw Castiel’s expression change. He looked up. That bare hint of a smile that so rarely touched Castiel’s lips was there, his eyes losing their almost perpetual sadness. Dean’s lips twitched in a smile in response, wondering at the emotions he saw in Castiel’s eyes.
A fragment of dream flashed in Dean’s mind. Blue eyes, soft hands, a whispered name on swollen lips.
Dean’s smile faded. This was Castiel, not some fragment of dream. This was Castiel who he had leant on for so long, who had given too much for him. The disbelief settled back in. It was too much to ask for, to be real. What he saw in those blue eyes couldn’t be the same as what he kept hidden away himself, haunted desires that could never come to be.
Dean dropped his hand. “I have to get back, it’s late.”
He looked away, shoving his hands into his pockets he walked back toward the Impala. He didn’t see the sorrow in Castiel’s eyes as he turned, as Castiel watched him walk away.
When he reached the steps, he turned back and Castiel was gone.
...................
Part Two...
.
Author: fate_incomplete
Rating: PG
Warnings: Angst
Spoilers: up to 6.03
Characters: Dean/Castiel (mention of unhappy Dean/Lisa)
Word Count: ~12,700
Summary: Dean wasn’t sure what was real anymore, he wasn’t sure he cared... his brother was gone, Castiel was back in heaven, and he was living a life he wasn’t sure he wanted , reality was something he could do without. So when Castiel keeps appearing in the back seat of the Impala, he’s not surprised, he just thinks he’s finally lost it…after all, no one ever gets what they want…
Set in the year between 5.22 and 6.03
A/N: Thanks to pyjamagurl for her thoughts and beta, you're awesome hun.
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Castiel was scrunched into the back seat of the Impala. His shoulders hunched as if the space was too small, too constricting. As always he was sitting behind Dean, as if being that little bit closer made the confinement more bearable.
He had no need to travel this way, but did anyway. Had no reason to be there at all, but here he was. Maybe it was a shared bond too deep to let go, guilt, obligation, a selfish desire to hold onto something neither thought they should have. Maybe it was to simply share something that was inherently Dean, his roaming and fiercely independent nature, borne from a lifetime spent on the road and grief from what had been lost. Neither questioned why, in the end it wasn’t important.
Sometimes Dean would look in the rear view mirror to see the back seat empty, Castiel zapping off somewhere, the angel equivalent of stretching his legs, or maybe gone to deal with something they never spoke of. He would silently pop back in sooner or later. Dean’s eyes always flicked to the mirror at his return, knowing when he was there instinctively. Castiel’s presence brought an easing of tension between his shoulders, and an inexplicable urge to smile, no matter how dark his mood was.
Castiel leant his head against the window, his eyes taking in the scenery as it passed by. Blue eyes that burned with age and knowledge, yet took every passing scene in as though for the first time. An innate curiosity, tempered with a detachment of someone who had seen the bigger picture, yet was fascinated as he only now saw the simple strokes that made it.
They never said much, words were mostly meaningless. Sometimes Dean would talk, not expecting answers, content just to have someone listen. Sometimes Castiel would speak, his words were few, their impact greater for it. The silences spoke more than their words. They always had.
Another small town USA passed by, a blur of insignificance, yet its mere existence signifying everything. Life went on, dreams, hopes, love, tragedies. Another 100 miles slipped past in silence. Farmland gave way to forests, back to farmland again, more towns.
Castiel shifted slightly, his eyes turning from the window to watch Dean in the rear view mirror. Their eyes met briefly in the reflection. Green eyes weary, from too much given and lost. Blue eyes cool, detached, but pained all the more for it. All the emotion still there, though the means to truly feel it lost, the memory of it haunting in a way that perhaps none could understand. These moments they spent together were the only time anything felt remotely right.
Dean pulled into a driveway in Cicero Indiana, a home that would never really be his. He turned the car off, sat for a moment, not quite ready to go inside, never really ready, no matter how many times he came ‘home’. His eyes flicked to the rear view mirror, as they did every time, knowing what he would see, but the act had become a reflex he couldn’t help.
The back seat was empty. It always was.
...................
A month earlier...
Lisa walked into the kitchen to see Dean still doing the dishes. She stood quietly in the doorway watching him. He was staring out the window, his hands idly sloshing water over a plate. He didn’t notice her presence and she tried not to see a deeper meaning in that.
She could only just see the side of his face, but she knew the look that would be in his eyes. That empty, lost look, like he had left too much of himself behind but didn’t have the strength or faith to go out and get it back, or even know where to find it. She knew that look all too well, as much as he tried to hide it from her.
The last few months hadn’t been easy. She cared for Dean. She saw how great he could be with Ben. If only he could let go of his past and let himself exist fully in the now, in their lives. On her more reasonable days, Lisa wondered if it was too selfish a desire to want him to stay, to be with them. Most days, she convinced herself they were happy, that he just needed time to heal whatever emotional wounds he had gathered in his life.
Most days, she could ignore that little voice that said she would never understand just what he had been through. That he had lost too much, and being with her was just making whatever was left of him fade away. Most days, but today wasn’t one of them.
The desire to ease his burdens, to wash away all the pain he had endured, and give him the peace that had been missing all his life, was fighting with a more rational thought. That he would never find that peace, not here, maybe not anywhere. She pushed those thoughts away. She would keep trying. He deserved so much more than he had ever asked for.
She turned away rather than see that look and have to lie to herself again.
...................
The Impala sitting in the driveway caught Dean’s attention as he washed the dishes. She shone in the afternoon light. No dust or mud marring her paint work from weeks spent on the road. She’d hardly left the driveway in a month. She seemed out of place, a muscle bound black beast, trying to hide in suburbia.
His thoughts shied away from making the connection between himself and the car. He had a life, or at least he could make one here, if he could just stop the constant thoughts and images that popped into his head.
Sam eating ice cream in nowhere Nebraska aged six, Sam’s hands around his throat, Sam beaming at him with pride in some deserted field Iowa having successfully shot fruit cans from a log aged eight, Sam black eyed and killing Lilith, Sam’s head on his shoulder having fallen asleep waiting for Dad to return in some motel room aged four, Sam falling into the pit. A constant loop that seemed to chaotically jump from memory to memory, yet always came back to that last image, no matter how much he tried to fight it.
Even in his sleep, the images haunted him. Nightmares he couldn’t escape, though in his dreams it was more than just Sam that haunted him. A jumble of Dad, Mom, his brother, Bobby, Castiel, all the people they couldn’t save and hell, all mixed up together in one horrifying, never ending torment. So much guilt and loss bound up together, that at times he didn’t think he could endure it anymore.
At least he had stopped waking up screaming. Not that the nightmares had lessened, he’d just trained himself to hide them. Now he just woke silently, and stared out at the darkness until his breathing slowed, until the urge to sleep grew too strong to keep his eyes open any longer, and they would close, returning him to the nightmares.
Dean mentally shook himself as he drew his eyes away from the Impala, looking down he realised he had been cleaning the same plate for five minutes.
He forced himself to concentrate on the dishes, rather than let his mind wander off to what was lost or other places he could be right now. He had made a promise to Sam to have this life, keeping that promise was the least he could do after his brother’s sacrifice. He found his eyes drawn back to the Impala though, not noticing the water he sloshed out of the sink, that was now soaking his shirt.
He tossed the remaining plates into the sink to soak. Not bothering to dry his hands, he grabbed the Impala keys and headed outside.
He slid into the driver’s seat. Its form fitting his body from countless hours spent driving in it. He pulled out of the driveway without a thought of telling Lisa he was going out. He floored it down the quiet street, heading for the interstate on instinct. No destination in mind, just the undeniable urge to get out. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, he didn’t even glance in the rear view mirror as suburbia disappeared behind him.
...................
The purr of the Impala’s engine filled Dean’s ears. The sound almost hypnotic, washing away all thoughts. Conflict, turmoil, guilt and grief, all forgotten for a brief moment. There was just the thrum of the engine and road noise, as the tyres ate up the tarmac. He had no idea where he was going, hadn’t even given it a thought. He had taken the first road out of Cicero, heading west, and kept on going.
He paid little attention to the scenery or road signs, if anyone had been there to ask, he wouldn’t have been able to say where he was. It wasn’t until his hands started to sweat on the steering wheel, and he automatically wound down the window, that his mind clicked back in.
The rush of cool wind against his face woke him as if from a dream. He looked out the window at the seemingly unending farmland that was blurring by and frowned slightly. Looking back to the road, he slowed and pulled over onto the shoulder.
A road sign in front of him indicated straight ahead would lead to Illinois, or he could turn onto the I65 that he could see just up ahead. He sat staring at the sign, not entirely sure how he had gotten there. His thoughts shied away from the fact that the I65 was the quickest way back to Bobby’s, back to everything he had left behind.
He didn’t let himself think it, couldn’t, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the sign either.
He irritably thrust the shift into drive, pushing aside the subconscious thought that had led him in this direction. He fish tailed the Impala as he did a u-turn, heading back the way he had come, back to Cicero.
...................
Dean drove back towards Cicero at a much slower pace than he had left. His elbow was propped on the doorframe, the wind whistling in, cool against his face. Trying to keep his mind blank, trying to convince himself he was just out for a drive, stretching his legs, giving his ‘baby’ a run, anything that didn’t involve subconsciously running away from what his life had become, running back to what he had left behind. His eyes kept straying to the rear view mirror, and the way back to the I65 it showed, betraying just how unsuccessful he was being.
He shifted irritably in is seat. He was the damn master of repression, this should be easier. That life was gone, he was with Lisa now. Whatever he had was gone, the pooch was screwed, they’d saved the world and all it had cost was everything. So life wasn’t perfect and he had a hole inside of him that wouldn’t go away, that no amount of caresses from Lisa could ever fill, so what. He was Dean fucking Winchester, and this was just his screwed up life.
It was what he had to deal with for screwing everything up. He sold his soul to bring Sam back to life, which of course led to him going to hell, where he broke the first seal and started the damn apocalypse, that he hadn’t been able to stop, fucked everything up for the only decent angel there was, screwed a few more things up until, what do you know, Sam ends up in hell. Yeah, being Dean fucking Winchester was just awesome.
He’d tried letting out all his anger, gotten drunk and cursed and screamed to the heavens till he was hoarse. Of course it hadn’t helped, the anger was still there, he was just too worn and weary to keep on raging. He’d spent weeks doing research, spoken to everyone he could think of to try and find a way to get Sam back. None of that had helped either, as he hadn’t found a damn thing; not even anything resembling a desperate no-hope-of-succeeding idea.
He hadn’t spoken to Bobby. He couldn’t bring himself to face him. He hadn’t spoken to Castiel, wasn’t sure he could face him either. Even in all his cursing to Heaven and desperate search to help Sam, he hadn’t once asked Castiel for help. Wasn’t even sure if Castiel would come, he shouldn’t.
Castiel was the one thing that could take his thoughts off his brother. Not that it was much of a reprieve. There was too much guilt there to. He had asked everything from the angel, and Castiel had given it to him. And what did he offer in return? Nothing, not a damn thing. Not even a ‘thanks for saving my ass’, ‘thanks for standing with me against your family, for losing your home to offer me a chance to save my brother, for getting yourself blown up, twice, to give me a chance to get to Sam.’ No, he hadn’t done a thing for the angel.
There was only one good thing to come out of everything that had happened. Castiel was back in Heaven; where Dean couldn’t ask for anything more from him, couldn’t cause him any more pain.
“I’m sorry Cas,” Dean whispered. “You should have left me where you found me.”
His throat constricted with the words, raw emotion shining in his eyes. He had been trying for months to bury everything, to not let it affect Lisa and Ben. Back in the Impala and alone, it was all bubbling up to the surface.
“Cas I’m…”
What he thought? What could he say? No words could undo the pain he had caused, the cold shoulder and harsh words he had given, when Castiel had all but fallen to stand by him. When he had been human, and lost and drowning in despair and looking for anything to have faith in, when he kept fighting when he had every reason not to. No words could undo that or make up for it. ‘I’m sorry’, ‘thank you,’ had become pathetic, meaningless words that could never encompass what the angel had done for him, and what it meant to have someone so ready to sacrifice their life for him.
Dean’s eyes closed briefly against the pain and guilt. Images of Castiel floated in the darkness behind his closed lids. Blue eyes full of anger and power, blue eyes full of doubt and turmoil, blue eyes full of sorrow and lost hope. The tilt of his head, the slight curving of his lips in an untested smile. Cas I…I miss you…
He opened his eyes looking back to the road ahead, fittingly empty and alone; no other cars in sight.
He drove for a few more miles. He couldn’t help the subconscious flick of his eyes to the rear view mirror, and the way back to Bobby’s, one more time.
“Jesus Christ!” he cursed, jolting the steering wheel to one side, and nearly swerving off the road.
Blue eyes stared calmly back at him from the rear seat.
“What the hell?” Dean asked, barley managing to drag his eyes from the mirror to watch the road, straightening the wheel, before his eyes flicked back to the mirror again, not quite believing that what he was seeing was real.
“Hello Dean.”
...................
“Cas?”
Castiel continued to stare back at him in the mirror, as inscrutable as ever.
“I thought you went back to heaven?”
Castiel turned away to look out the window. “I did.”
Dean couldn’t quite put his finger on the hint of emotion he saw cross those blue eyes before Castiel had turned away.
“Hmm, how’s that going?” Dean asked, not quite able to keep the edge of betrayal out of his voice. Despite all his thoughts of what he owed the angel, and the small tingle in the pit of his stomach at seeing him, the old edge to his voice was back. That defensive bluster he instinctively put up against the world.
Castiel’s eyes flicked to Dean, before turning back to the farmland passing by the window, his lips pressing a little tighter. “It is fine, different.”
Dean tried to study the angel in the mirror while still keeping his eyes on the road. At first glance he looked to be back to that same angel Dean had first met two years ago. Yet there was something there, hiding in the tight purse of his lips, the hint of weariness in the hold of his shoulders, the trace of emotion haunting his eyes. No, this wasn’t the angel he had met in that barn what seemed like an eon ago. This was new, different. A mixture of the man he once knew and the being he once feared.
Castiel may have had all his powers returned, overwhelming all his human experiences, yet there was so much of those messy human emotions still lurking within his eyes. Veiled by the returned ‘angelness’, but there nonetheless. Dean couldn’t help the slight easing of something within him, at the indication that the Cas he had come to know was still there.
His thoughts from before Castiel’s sudden appearance came crashing back to him. There was so much he should say, yet there was no way to say it. He looked back to the mirror, catching Castiel’s eye as he looked back at him. There was a slight softening of the angel’s eyes, as if he understood. Words weren’t necessary.
It wasn’t enough, but it would have to do. Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling as though his emotions were laid bare under the angel’s gaze; Castiel seeing more of him than anyone else ever did. Dean looked away and cleared his throat self consciously.
“Not that it ain’t great to see you Cas, but what brings you this way?”
Silence was his only answer. His eyes flicked back to the mirror. The rear seat was empty.
Dean couldn’t decide whether to sigh with frustration, or to smile fondly at the angel’s uncanny ability to avoid questions and goodbyes alike.
He shook his head slightly and smirked as the fondness won out. The smile lasted until he reached the outskirts of Cicero.
...................
Dean lay in bed, hands behind his head as he stared at the shifting patterns the street lights were casting on the ceiling. Lisa lay still next to him, her back to him. He had mumbled some excuse to her for why he had been gone for nearly four hours, after disappearing without letting her know he was leaving. She pretended to believe it. She was a good woman, with more to risk than just her heart. He knew he should try harder, but his mind kept drifting back to Castiel, sitting in the back seat of the Impala, like he had never left.
As his eyelids grew heavy he wondered if he hadn’t imagined the whole thing. Castiel had only been there a fleeting moment. It seemed so unlikely that the angel would bother with him now that the apocalypse had been averted. He tried to push the thoughts of the angel aside, but as he fell asleep, the image of blue eyes in the rear view mirror, drifted up to meet him.
...................
Dean watched as Ben raced out the door to the Impala. “After I drop him off to school I’ve got a few errands to run,” he said as he turned back to Lisa.
“Will you be done in time to pick him up after school?” she asked as she turned to the kitchen table, picking up her bag to head out to work herself.
“Sure. I’ll see you tonight.” He placed a gentle kiss to her cheek, not meeting her eyes before following Ben outside.
Lisa lifted her eyes to the door as he closed it, her hand absently lifting to her cheek, feeling the outline of his chaste kiss. She sighed, trying not to think of how that kiss had been more that of a friend than a lover.
Dean listened absently as Ben chatted animatedly about something to do with his friends on the drive to school, waved idly as he ran into the school yard. The feeling of disconnection continued to grow as he picked up oil and new blades for the lawn mower.
He sat in the Impala watching the bustle of people going about their lives. It all seemed so distant, so foreign. He glanced over at the burger and fries sitting on the passenger seat untouched. There was hollowness inside him, that greasy food had no hope of filling.
He turned the key and listened to the Impala hum to life. He drove out of town, hoping to ease his troubled thoughts. He had a few hours to kill before picking Ben up. Just going for a drive to pass the time couldn’t hurt. He refused to acknowledge the hope that Castiel would drop in again if he was alone, out on the road where he belonged.
...................
It was nearly time to head back to pick Ben up before he felt that sensation in the back of his mind, that electric prickle across the back of his neck that announced he was not alone. His lips tilted ever so slightly in a smile at the presence.
“Hey Cas,” Dean said without taking his eyes off the road.
“Hello Dean,” came the familiar response.
Neither spoke for a moment. Dean’s eyes flicked to the mirror to find Castiel studying him with calm blue eyes.
“I take it this is just a social call? No ominous news to impart, world’s not ending again is it?” Dean asked wearily.
Castiel tilted his head, pausing for a moment before replying. “I’m not here to impart news, ominous or otherwise.” He turned to look out the window. “You don’t need to worry about the world ending.”
Dean wasn’t sure if that meant the world was fine, or that Castiel just didn’t think he was worth bothering with news of doom. At the moment he didn’t care. He was tired. One way or the other, the world could get along just fine without his help. He had played his part in saving it once.
A despondent sigh escaped Dean’s lips. Castiel turned back to study him, his brow furrowed slightly as a hint of doubt crept into his eyes, as he reconsidered the decision of coming back to Dean, of dredging up all that Dean had left behind
“Never thought it’d end like this. Me and a freakin apple pie life.” Dean’s hands gripped the steering wheel tighter as he spoke.
Castiel could feel the turmoil within Dean. There was the obvious grief for Sam, but there was more, more sorrow, more missing from within Dean than could be explained by the loss of his brother. There was a desire for something else, that he had clamped down so hard, it was almost extinguished.
Castiel wasn’t completely sure what it was. Something about it resonated with the emptiness he felt within himself. He had felt Dean’s tumultuous emotions and heard that whispered I miss you from heaven. It had drawn him here.
Heaven was a mess, and Castiel found himself heading full tilt towards another war. He had wanted to seek out Dean, for his advice, his help. Yet hesitated at the weariness he felt in him, at the anger he saw in him the last time they were together. That whispered admission had drawn him back without thought though, an undeniable pull that he had been both unable and unwilling to resist. He still couldn’t bring himself to ask anything from Dean, not after everything he had been through.
It was illogical to return to him, to remain here. Yet Castiel stayed where he was, sitting in the back seat of the Impala, watching the landscape blur past the window. Finding something else instead of the help he sought. He found a refuge from the surrounding storm. A sense of peace he hadn’t felt in too long descending over him.
Neither spoke again. As Dean drove through the outskirts of Cicero, nearing Ben’s school, he felt Castiel’s silent exodus. The emptiness and disconnection expanded again with his departure
...................
Sweat drenched sheets entwined around Dean’s body as he slept. He woke with a jolt, a whispered name on his lips, eyes wide and frantic as they stared at the ceiling above him, momentarily unsure of where he was. His breathing came hard and shallow, his throat dry from both sleep, and the fear and raw need his dreams.
He glanced to the other side of the bed, almost sighing with relief when he saw it was empty, somewhat easing the guilt that the name on his lips hadn’t been hers. He closed his eyes, rubbed a hand across his face, the image of blue eyes still lingering.
He opened his eyes again and stared back up at the ceiling, sleep still clinging to his body. A slight blush tinted his cheeks, as he thought of the name torn from his lips as he woke. He tried to recall the dream, to remember what had caused that desire drenched whisper, but it slipped away from him.
It had been weeks since Castiel had first appeared in his car. He knew that since then his dreams, his nightmares, had changed. He just couldn’t hold onto to them long enough to figure out how, or why.
He had found himself driving more and more over those weeks. Whenever Lisa was at work and Ben at school, and even sometimes when they were at home. He drove nowhere, took every road in and out of Cicero, every back road in a 50 mile radius of the town. Just driving, waiting for his mostly silent passenger to drop in.
He couldn’t admit it, but he was driving to escape, to try and catch a glimpse of the life he left behind. Lisa and Ben acting as a tether that kept him driving in circles around Cicero. Castiel was the doorway to freedom that compelled him to take flight; a door he could never open. Guilt and an invading sense of worthlessness had long since hidden the key.
He had started to drive further. Driving for hours before the guilt, and that little voice in the back of his mind set in. Whispering that he had made a promise, that he had to keep it, Sam was gone, that life was gone, this was who he was now. He got further and further away, but always turned back.
Castiel wasn’t always there. Sometimes Dean would drive for hours through the farmland surrounding Cicero alone. His thoughts calmed by the familiar throb of the Impala engine, the wind whistling through the open window. It was whenever his thoughts turned maudlin, the times when that overwhelming sense of loss threatened to consume him, that Castiel would appear. Offering mostly silence; his mere presence stemmed the flow of despair.
Sometimes when Castiel appeared he would seem tenser, more rigid than usual. He never spoke during those times. He would just suddenly be there, blue eyes worn, lips held tight with strain from troubles he never mentioned, that they never spoke of. He would sit in silence in the back seat, watching the flow of scenery out the window, until his weariness and unrest appeared to lessen. The stiffness of his shoulders would ease, and blue eyes would turn to Dean, the briefest of moments of peace in them, before it was consumed by an undefinable sadness, as the barriers went back up and he would disappear.
Every time Dean returned to Lisa’s house and pulled into the drive way, he would be alone. Every time it got harder and harder to get out of the car and walk back to what his life had become. His eyes would flick to the back seat, and wonder just how much was real, and how much was born of hope and the desire for something else.
He sighed and got out of bed, trying to push the dream aside as he dressed. Failing miserably, he headed downstairs to where he could hear Lisa and Ben.
...................
Lisa watched as Dean pushed the bacon and eggs she had cooked around his plate. They had long since gotten cold. She had finished her own breakfast 20 minutes ago. Ben had left for a friends place earlier; it had been the only moment all morning that Dean had appeared to be aware of his surroundings.
She chewed her bottom lip as her concern grew. Dean rarely spoke of what happened before he had arrived back on her doorstep almost 4 months ago. She hadn’t pushed. She could see in his eyes that what little he had said was probably more than he’d truly been ready to give. She knew Sam was gone. She wasn’t entirely sure how, something to do with the devil, and sacrificing himself to end the apocalypse.
It had all been too much really. The incident with the changelings and learning what Dean really did, had opened her eyes somewhat, but angels and demons, and the end of the world, had been too much to take in.
She thought he had been starting to deal with it. Those first few weeks had been hell to watch, as the grief tore him apart. He had spent those weeks drinking and researching, waking from what little sleep he got screaming. He had let her hold him till he would fall back to sleep. The nightmares seemed to have eased after a while. She had thought he was moving on.
He started helping around the house. She actually saw him smile at times when he was with Ben. The smile lighting up his face, and for a brief moment, pushing aside the mask he hid behind. Those moments had been fleeting, but in them she had seen the brash, roguish younger man he had been when they first met.
The last few weeks he had been slipping away from her again though. He seemed distracted, disconnected. She wondered if it was some sort of delayed shock, post traumatic stress. She didn’t know what to do to help him, except be there for him.
She had her moments of doubt, wondered what on earth she had been thinking letting him into her life, into Ben’s life. Then she would see him showing Ben how to fix something on the lawn mower, or throwing a baseball. He would smile, and she would see just what he could be; what they could have, if he only let himself have it. If he’d only let her in.
Watching him still pushing the food around his plate was getting on her nerves. She reached over and picked the plate up.
He looked up at her with eyes that didn’t seem to see her. “Sorry, I wasn’t hungry,” he said with a shrug. His eyes dropped back to the table.
Another stab of concern ate at her. Dean was always hungry. “Dean, are you ok?”
He looked back up, struggling to put on a smile for her. “Sure, I’m fine.”
He carried the rest of the plates to the sink for her, glancing out the window to the Impala as he did. He turned back and grabbed his coat from the back of the chair he had been sitting in.
“I might head out for a while this morning,” he said absently.
“Ok. Maybe we could do something together this afternoon, before Ben gets home?”
“Sure.” He looked up at her briefly before walking out the door.
She watched the door close behind him. She had no idea where he went all the time. What he did for all those hours he would be out in the Impala. She knew it was nothing as trivial as going to bars, or meeting other women. She knew she should ask, but something in his eyes stopped her, and she never asked out of fear it was something that was far more likely to tear them apart.
...................
Dean knew Lisa was worried about him. Probably rightly so, he was worried about himself too. Nothing seemed real anymore. For weeks he had been walking through life like it was a dream. Everything seemed so distant, unimportant. Except for when he was in his car and Castiel would appear.
He had started to question his sanity. The world seemed to be slipping away and he didn’t care. That couldn’t be good. He spent as much time driving as he could. When he wasn’t on the road, he was thinking about it.
All the loss and pain was consuming him, when it was at its darkest Castiel always seemed to appear. He found himself wondering how the angel was always there when he needed him most. Why would Castiel, with better things to concern himself with, show up in the back seat of the Impala, and drive around to nowhere in particular with him. It made no sense.
He wondered if maybe it wasn’t really Castiel. Maybe after all the shit he had dealt with he had finally lost it. Maybe he was just out here driving around alone talking to himself. His subconscious conjuring up Castiel rather than deal with everything alone.
He smirked at the thought. If he was out here talking to himself, you think he’d hallucinate someone a little chattier.
The smile didn’t last. The niggling thought that he was losing it becoming stronger. Though did it really matter anyway? He wasn’t needed anymore. The apocalypse was over, Sam was gone, and he had no way to bring him back. He had promised not to even try, not that he had been able to keep that part of the promise.
He had looked everywhere for a way to get Sam back. He had found none. His brother was rotting in hell, and he was still here. Trying to live the life Sam wanted for him, desperately trying to hold onto his brother by keeping that promise.
He sighed and tried to shake the line of thought. He saw a road sign ahead, Lucasville Ohio. He hadn’t even realise he had left Indiana. He glanced at the clock. He had been driving for three hours.
He felt a stab of guilt, as that small voice reminded him he had ties now. He couldn’t just drive across the country anymore. He tried to ignore it, tried to let the comfort of the road hold him for a little while longer. He drove for another hour. As he hit the West Virginia state line he subconsciously gave into the voice, turning right he began to circle back to Indiana.
As if the pull of his promise, of his new life, sapped his will to fight the reality of everything he had lost, his thoughts turned back to Sam, back to that moment in the cemetery when he had lost him.
“I never thought I’d survive the apocalypse. I’m not sure that I did,” he said quietly, his eyes glancing in the rear view mirror, blue eyes staring back at him. “The best part of me never left that cemetery.”
Castiel’s brow furrowed in that way it did when he failed to understand Dean’s lack of faith in himself. “You and your brother stopped the apocalypse Dean. Everything after that has meaning because of you.”
“Meaning for who?”
Castiel’s eye softened, wanting to offer comfort but unsure just how to. His last words from the aftermath, the echo of ‘peace or freedom’, hang heavy between them.
...................
They had stopped the apocalypse, but the cost had been far higher than Castiel had imagined. He could see that loss consuming Dean. He could see the depth of it, every facet. Yet not all of it was tied up with the loss of Sam. His confusion as to the source of that storm of emotion, only served to amplify the uncertainty of his own emotions, thoughts, whatever it was he felt now that he was an angel again.
When he had first been restored to his full powers, he thought that maelstrom of chaos that being human had encompassed, had been left behind. He thought he had been grateful for that. Yet the longer he had been back in Heaven, the more those emotions seemed to have seeped back in. An emptiness had been building within him. A muted form of that despair and loss he had felt when his father had abandoned them, when he had been alone, lost and faithless.
He had so much to deal with in Heaven, with the chaos his actions, and the aversion of the apocalypse, had left. He had tried to ignore the pull of returning to Dean, yet he couldn’t. The more he tried, the stronger it seemed to become. These moments spent with Dean, were the only time that the emptiness eased, revealing something far more unknowable, some deeper feeling that Castiel didn’t want to address right now; that he didn’t have the time or luxury to ponder over. So for now he revelled in these stolen moments away from Heaven, from his duty.
He no longer knew if he came back for Dean, to try and ease the burden of loss he carried, or if he came back for himself. For that ever so brief moment of peace from the turmoil of his existence he found only here.
He wasn’t even sure if there was a difference.
...................
Dean stopped at a diner by a river in some small town he didn’t know the name of. When he walked back out with the customary burger, fries and pie, he saw the back seat of the Impala was empty. He sighed looking down at the food he was carrying, his hunger having left with Castiel. He was about to toss the food onto the passenger seat when he noticed the trench coat clad angel walking down by the water’s edge.
Dean walked down worn wooden steps that lead down to the rocky bed. Castiel had apparently noticed him following, and stood waiting a few hundred metres downstream, staring out over the river where it wound its way through rocky pools.
He looked lost in thought, and Dean wondered what was on the angel’s mind. Castiel had been through so much since they first met, that change was inevitable. Dean still wasn’t sure what he had expected when Castiel had become a fully fledged angel again, when Castiel left him alone to return to Heaven.
He certainly hadn’t expected him to turn up in the back seat of the Impala, all familiar loaded silence and deep blue eyes. Hadn’t expected him to keep appearing, to the point where blue eyes in a rear view mirror followed him everywhere, even into his dreams.
This was the first time since Lawrence that Dean had seen Castiel anywhere other than in the Impala. It was vaguely disturbing, and strangely exhilarating at the same time.
They were several hundred metres downstream, the diner now out of sight around a bend in the river. The small town and highway hidden behind trees, they were alone, away from prying eyes. Castiel seemed so out of place, standing amongst the wild backdrop of the river and forest, yet so at home at the same time. The business suit belonged anywhere else, yet the ancient, weary look of Castiel’s eyes was perfectly at home. Both a reminder of what Dean had spent the last four months hiding from.
Dean reached where Castiel was standing and leant back against a large boulder, idly eating his fries, as he looked out over the view. It was pretty, peaceful. Castiel didn’t seem inclined to speak, as usual, for the moment Dean took comfort in the silence, in the easy companionship.
It was the most he had taken notice of the world around him in what seemed like months. The gentle sound of wind in the trees behind them, the calming sound of water passing over the rocks, the occasional call of a bird or some insect; it was like the world was suddenly coming back to life around him. He soaked it all in, let it wash over him. The coarse feel of the rock beneath him grounded him in reality for the moment. He looked over to Castiel, half expecting him to not be there.
He studied Castiel, let the peacefulness settle over him, as it did the strangeness of the last couple of weeks or months seemed so stark. It had all been like a dream, all blurring together. Nights filled with images of screaming torment as he slept. Days filled with hours spent alone in the Impala. He realised he had never seen Castiel when there had been other people around, even now they were alone.
“Nothing seems real anymore,” Dean said as he looked out over the river.
Castiel’s eyes narrowed with confused concern as he looked sideways at Dean.
“Everything from the last few months is just jumbled together, nothing makes sense. Like it’s all just some messed up dream I’m trying to wake up from.”
“You have been through a great deal in the last few years Dean. You’re brother…I imagine it gets easier.” Castiel knew it wouldn’t, Dean was headstrong when it came to Sam, lost without him, but it seemed like something he should say.
Dean looked over at Castiel briefly. “It’s not just that.” His eyes turned back to the view before them, as if the words he was looking for could be found out there somewhere. “I made a promise to Sam, to leave our lives behind.”
“I know.” Castiel said quietly.
He didn’t understand why Sam had thought Dean would find happiness, peace, by running away from who he was. He refrained from saying anything though. He understood that the hunter’s life had never been easy, that Dean deserved so much more than he would ever ask for, than he believed he was worthy of.
Dean knew nothing but the hunter’s life, and didn’t quite fit in anywhere else. Castiel wondered why Sam didn’t see that, or if he had just looked past that, wanting Dean to have the life neither of them had gotten the chance to live. Castiel wouldn’t interfere in Dean’s decision to keep that promise to his brother, not if it gave him a chance at peace. Not if it gave Dean something to hold on to.
“I just don’t know if I can,” Dean continued quietly. His jaw clenched against the well of emotions that was threatening to overflow.
“I’m tired. I’ve been tired of it all for a long time. Even before hell. But it’s all I know. There’s always been this part of me…this part that wanted to be done with it all. That just wanted our family back. Wanted normal, but now…Normal was Dad, Sam and me on the road. This just seems like anything but normal, it’s surreal.”
Dean looked back to Castiel. “Only time anything seems right is when I’m driving, when you’re there. And I don’t even know if you’re real.”
Castiel’s head tilted as he studied Dean. “I’m real Dean.”
“Hmm, of course you’d say that,” Dean scoffed, and Castiel frowned in question. Obviously his hallucination would say it’s real. “Doesn’t matter.”
Real or not, it was the only thing that felt right in the world they had saved, losing themselves in the process.
Castiel stepped closer to him, blue eyes open and empathetic. “Dean, I am real.”
Castiel stood so close Dean could feel his breath on his cheek as he spoke, could feel warmth emanating from him.
It felt so real. He looked into Castiel’s eyes, so close, so familiar. Without thinking he reached out and laid his hand on Castiel’s shoulder. It was felt solid, he could feel the flesh beneath the trench coat, its warmth radiating through into his hand. His eyes fixated on his hand where it lay, feeling the granite strength of the angel.
He felt more than saw Castiel’s expression change. He looked up. That bare hint of a smile that so rarely touched Castiel’s lips was there, his eyes losing their almost perpetual sadness. Dean’s lips twitched in a smile in response, wondering at the emotions he saw in Castiel’s eyes.
A fragment of dream flashed in Dean’s mind. Blue eyes, soft hands, a whispered name on swollen lips.
Dean’s smile faded. This was Castiel, not some fragment of dream. This was Castiel who he had leant on for so long, who had given too much for him. The disbelief settled back in. It was too much to ask for, to be real. What he saw in those blue eyes couldn’t be the same as what he kept hidden away himself, haunted desires that could never come to be.
Dean dropped his hand. “I have to get back, it’s late.”
He looked away, shoving his hands into his pockets he walked back toward the Impala. He didn’t see the sorrow in Castiel’s eyes as he turned, as Castiel watched him walk away.
When he reached the steps, he turned back and Castiel was gone.
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Part Two...
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