Supernatural: In Paradise, All is Forgiven
Title: In Paradise, All is Forgiven
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean, Castiel
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Rating: PG-13? There’s really nothing in here that’s shocking, except that these brothers are in love. References to sex but nothing graphic (I’m disappointed, too).
Word Count: 7,470
Author’s Note: Written for whenthewarsover prompt # 36:
The apocalypse is over and Sam hates that Castiel still comes calling, every Sunday. Following Dean to their meeting place in secret, angry and jealous, he discovers the nature of Dean's latest deal.
Beta’d by the ever wonderful wutendeskind with extra helpful guinea pig input from the incomparable catpantsss. SPOILER ALERT!: Angels are dicks (except Castiel *squishes him*) Spoilers up to Lucifer Rising with potentially spoiler-y guesses about certain aspects of Season 5. ETA 5/7/2013: Thanks to eos_rose, you can now read this in epub format here.
Summary: The Apocalypse has ended, but Dean is still going on sneaky meetings with Castiel every Sunday. A heart-broken Sam must accept that he may not be first in Dean’s heart when his brother disappears without a word. When he discovers Dean’s real reason for leaving, however, he sets out to give Dean the life they both always wanted.
Fanfiction Link: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5302827/1/
They were happy every day of the week, except for Sundays. Every single day began when Dean woke up in bed next to Sam and smiled so wide his face hurt. Every single night ended when Sam wrapped his body around his brother’s sleeping form. Every single day since Lucifer fell. Except for Sundays.
By the time Sam woke up on Sundays, Dean would be up and around, making breakfast or working on something-the Impala, a case, anything that kept him busy. Not so bad for a normal couple, except that Sam was used to waking up with Dean in bed still next to him-awake but immobile, enjoying the sun on his face and Sam’s body as it casually slept beside him. Productivity was not Dean’s forte now that they actually got to relax and Sam felt like the only thing spurring Dean out of bed on Sunday mornings was some instinctive drive to get away from him. The day would begin with a strained, awkward good morning that would set the mood for their interactions all day. Cold, distant-they were always strangers on Sunday.
After years of only giving in to their cravings when they were too overpowering to ignore, they had finally accepted that they were more than brothers and that maybe that wasn’t so bad after all. They had grown accustomed to possessive kisses, to tangling their fingers, to holding each other night after night after night and how good that felt, even when they were too tired to do anything but melt into each other and sleep. They had grown accustomed to making Love. Not just angry or desperate, not the “get-it-over-with-so-we-can-start-feeling-guilty” sex that had been haunting them since the first time their world collapsed and they had nothing to cling to but each other. There was plenty of hot and heavy, too. But finally, for the first time, really making Love: slow, gentle, maybe a little more tender than two men should have been capable of.
Never on Sundays. They didn’t kiss, they didn’t touch, they certainly didn’t have sex. At night, when they went to bed, Dean would lie as far on his side of the mattress as he could manage without falling off and Sam knew better than to try to follow him there.
Sam was pretty sure this was not a religious thing-or at least not something Dean did because of his great respect for the church. It would be fine if Dean was some kind of devout believer trying to atone for the multitude of sins he indulged in every other day of the week (after all, pre-marital homosexual relationship with his brother aside, Dean didn’t really stick to any of the two or three rules his and Sam’s relationship didn’t break particularly well, either). But the Apocalypse had done anything but make Dean religious and he actually went out of his way to disrespect the side he had helped win the war on most days.
Naturally, Dean’s rebelliousness did not hold up on Sundays. Sam, who had once been a religious type himself, grew to hate Sundays. A lot of it was the way Dean treated him (which was already bad enough). But then there were the disappearances, too. It didn’t matter where they were-big cities, tiny towns, places that had been flattened in the chaos the world had barely survived. Whenever noon rolled around, Dean would leave and he wouldn’t return for hours. He would re-enter the room in a worse mood than before and go immediately to bed, not a word or a look for Sam. Sam often imagined he could feel the chill from Dean’s body all the way on his side of the bed. Only one time had Sam tried asking Dean, on a Monday after it had only been going on for a few weeks, where he went on Sunday nights. Dean smiled playfully and said “To church,” as if it were all some joke.
Sam had been willing to put up with this abnormality for an awfully long time. There was plenty that he felt guilty about and he was so lucky to have Dean six days a week-a Dean who was completely forgiving of the mess he had made and who, incredibly, still Loved him after all of it-that he was willing to accept one day of punishment. He deserved this and worse, he knew that. Dean should have killed him or abandoned him right in the church where he had raised Lucifer and caused, with one mistake, billions of deaths. But Dean had said the things he had done because of Ruby were forgiven and had been so sincere that Sam had believed him.
It was clear from the way he acted on Sundays that Dean was as angry as ever and just couldn’t let Sam go. As much as it hurt him to think of ever leaving what he had with Dean, he was never going to be able to live by his brother knowing that a part of him, however repressed, still hated Sam for his mistakes. Dean had been so reassuring during the war, had worked so hard to convince Sam that he shouldn’t hate himself for the things he had done with good intentions, that Sam had begun to forgive himself. After all that healing, Sam hated himself more than ever that one day of the week. If Dean was going to let him live, he couldn’t ask him to live like that.
So after two years of telling himself to trust his brother and reminding himself that this behavior was his own fault, he had finally reached his boiling point. He had to know what Dean was doing, why Dean was being so uncharacteristically spiteful, if there was a way to salvage what they had or if he would be better off leaving Dean to find someone who was good enough for him (or at least who wasn’t, you know, technically the Anti-Christ).
That was why after sixty-seven weeks of not questioning Dean’s actions, Sam attempted to follow Dean wherever he went and find out what exactly he was up to. Sam had ghosted Dean as quietly as he could, not that it was easy to sneak past Dean, but Dean seemed absorbed enough in what he was doing to not notice his brother. To Sam’s shocked relief, Dean did not get into the Impala once he was outside but kept heading straight for the woods that lined the town they were staying in. Sam had little trouble keeping up with Dean and when Dean had wandered about a mile into the woods without seeming to have any real idea where he was going, he paused and leaned casually against a tree as if he was waiting for something. Sam ducked behind a nearby tree and kept his eyes glued to Dean for thirty minutes before anything happened. The entire time, Dean wore his Sunday scowl and stared into space as if he were mesmerized.
“Hello, Dean,” Sam heard a voice that was a little too familiar and a little too close to where Dean was standing say in its usual monotone.
“Hey, Cas,” Dean said sounding tired, but not at all unpleasant. Sam felt something in his chest give way-Dean had smiled at the angel when he had approached. It was the first time Sam had seen Dean smile on a Sunday in over two years.
“Are you ready?”
“Aren’t I always?”
Castiel looked a little uncomfortable, but he nodded. His hand reached out and pressed against Dean’s chest. If they hadn’t disappeared immediately after that, Sam was sure he would have blown his cover. Not that it mattered any more, Sam was pretty sure it would have been a mercy if Dean had killed him in that church and he was positive there was nothing either Dean or Castiel could do to him for spying that was worse than what they were doing when they thought he wasn’t watching. For the first time since the Apocalypse had ended, Sam’s eyes burned with tears.
Sam spent the next three weeks trying to decide what to do and if there was another explanation for what he had seen than the one he’d jumped to. Sam couldn’t understand why Dean was with him every other day if it was Castiel he wanted. There was a chance they couldn’t be together because of what Castiel was, but even if Dean was just biding his time on Earth, it wasn’t like him to string Sam along as back up. Beside the fact that it was incredibly out of character, it just didn’t feel like Dean was pretending, not even when Sam was looking for the signs. He knew Dean pretty well-his smiles and kisses felt too authentic to not mean what Dean’s intimate whispers promised they meant. But then, there it was every Sunday. Sam would follow, Castiel would look hesitant, Dean showed no signs of regret, and then the two would begin to embrace and vanish. The conversation rarely deviated, not until the fifth week Sam followed Dean.
“Hello, Dean.”
“Hey, Cas.”
“Ready?”
“Always am.”
“You know, you do not have to do this. Sam-“
“We don’t talk about Sam. Let’s go.”
Castiel looked as if he was about to say something else, but his head snapped very quickly in the direction of the tree Sam was hiding behind. Sam hadn’t been able to prevent himself from making some small sound in reaction to Dean’s bitter tone; it was obvious the angel had sensed it. He immediately grabbed onto Dean and they disappeared.
That night, Sam made his decision. He was going to leave Dean, to let him go with Castiel without feeling bogged down. Sam was ready to confront his brother, he waited up for him running through the things he was going to say to try to make it clear that he forgave Dean for what he was doing, even if he was going the wrong way about it. But by the time Dean got home, it was past midnight for the first time since Dean and Castiel’s Sunday meetings had begun. It was Monday. Dean walked into the room and saw Sam waiting up and immediately it was all lips and tangled limbs. Sam’s memories of Dean’s icy words melted under his brother’s hot touch. He realized he would never be able to leave Dean again, not even for Dean’s sake. It was going to have to be up to Dean to choose between his brother and Castiel.
The next week, Dean chose. He left on Sunday, like he always did. Sam didn’t bother to follow. He didn’t come back.
_______________________________
Dean Winchester hated Sundays more than probably anything else, but this one was taking the cake. He’d been summoned hours earlier than was usual and the pleading look Sam had given him before he’d walked out the door had nearly broken his resolve. He wanted to tell his brother where he was going, wanted Sam to know that the way he acted on Sundays had nothing to do with him, but that would cost him everything. Sam wasn’t supposed to know. Dean was forbidden to tell and he didn’t really want to, despite how much he hated Sam’s pained faces. Sam would try to talk him out of it, try to tell him it wasn’t his job. It had always been his job. One day his time would be up and they would both be able to forget about Sundays, maybe even enjoy them. Until then, Dean’s only consolation was that Castiel was with him and Castiel was a good friend…when he wasn’t trying to talk Dean into reneging on his deal.
“Dean, go home.”
“I’m ready when you are, Cas. Let’s go.”
“No, Dean, not today. You have to go back.”
“I really thought we were past this. You promised. How would your bosses feel if they knew you were trying to talk me out of this?”
“They would kill me, you know that.”
“Again!” Dean said with a smirk. “And I bet this time they won’t let you have your Grace back.”
“Not after tonight. Tonight I am going to talk you out of this.”
“Never, Cas. I’m not joking, let’s go.”
“They are changing the rules, Dean. They are breaking the promise. You cannot come with me tonight, because if you do, you will not come back.”
“What?”
“Not until your time is up. Dean, go back to your brother. Be happy in this life. He knew what he was doing when he did it. Give him a happy life and let him deal with his own sins.”
Dean shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense. The deal was Sundays. I’ve been here every Sunday.”
“I know what the deal is and what it was supposed to be. They are not like demons, they can break them. I am telling you they are breaking it.”
“You can’t seriously mean-“
“That is five more years. One day a week for only two has already changed you beyond recognition. You do not deserve this, you saved the world. You have to live for you and Sam will-“
“If Sam hadn’t been there, I would have been dead long before it came time to fight Lucifer. Sam did more than enough to make up for his mistakes during the war and it’s thanks to him we’re still doing clean up. I was ready to quit. Why don’t they think about that a little?”
“They do not care, Dean. All they see, all they want to see, is what Sam did before. You know that, we have had this discussion.”
“Sam’s not going to Hell. Not ever, you hear me? I’m going back before Sam’s going. So what, I go with you and only get to see Sam on Sundays instead of the other way around?”
“No, Dean. If you come with me tonight, you will not see your brother again until your seven years are up. They are trying to separate you. They think Sam will forget about you if you are gone long enough, they want you to have nothing to return to, they want you to serve them for life.”
“You think so, too.”
“What?”
“You think Sam’s going to forget about me.”
“Dean, I think Sam is not the saint you make him out to be. He did awful things the last time he lost you; he certainly found ways to fill the void. I think he will find something again and that if we are not careful it will-“
“You know, Cas, I like you, but you really suck at reading people.”
“Humanity is a fascinating puzzle to me. I was not given enough time amongst you to understand your motivations. I only know what Sam did and I am not impressed by your brother’s morality.”
“Sam’s not going darkside again, not even if he thinks I abandoned him. He was trying to help.”
“That is not the subject at hand.”
“No, right, sorry. The subject is that you’re making me choose between spending the next five years being miserable and probably losing my brother’s trust, or going home and accepting the fact that Sam is going to Hell because Heaven’s full of self-righteous dicks who are trying to damn him on a technicality so that I’ll be their bitch.”
“Not me, Dean. Heaven. I am only a messenger.”
Dean paused for a few moments to let his anger subside a little. This wasn’t Castiel’s fault, so he shouldn’t have been taking it out on him. But it was a little too much to swallow without taking it out on someone.
“They can really do it, Cas? He’s really going to go to Hell?”
“I am sorry, Dean. They have sin enough for damnation. Your brother’s offenses are well recorded and formidable. However good his intentions were, his soul is compromised. The angels do not understand grey areas.”
“Then take me with you, but…” Dean’s eyes darted back the way he had come. “Let me go back. Just long enough to explain to him-“
“If you leave here, your decision will be made for you. If you leave here, Sam’s soul will no longer be capable of redemption.”
“But he’ll think I-I’m awful to him on Sundays, Cas. I can’t look at him. I hardly talk to him. He doesn’t know the things they make me do; he thinks it’s him I’m angry at. If I leave without saying goodbye he’ll think it’s because of-he’ll hate me.”
“That is one of the reasons I do not think you should come with me. I want to help you help your brother, but I do not have the power to go against their orders. They wish to force you apart. Letting you go back would destroy their designs.”
_______________________________
For a long time, Dean looked torn. He spoke out-loud, though more to himself than to the angel. Castiel found it fascinating that despite how much Dean despised the missions the angels sent him on, despite the fact that the things they made him do in Heaven’s name sent him back to his brother aged and broken and so repulsed by his own actions that he had come to dread Sundays more than he had dreaded the Apocalypse, it was Sam’s reaction to his disappearance that he feared most. Dean bore his brother no ill-will; even though it was Sam’s sins he was atoning for. Castiel watched the man he had come to respect more than any angel he had known tear himself apart over emotions for a man who had done monstrous things and found himself wishing, not for the first time, that he could understand Dean Winchester as well as Dean Winchester understood him. He did not interfere in the argument Dean was having with himself, he had given the man all of the input he had to offer. He watched nervously until, finally, Dean seemed to have come to a decision.
“It’s just like Stanford,” Dean murmured. “It’s not that much longer. Maybe he’ll understand. Maybe he’ll know I wouldn’t leave him without a good reason. He’ll know, won’t he?”
Castiel remained silent for a few moments until he realized Dean was staring at him and waiting for an answer. And from the look on his face, there was only one answer he could stand to hear.
“It is possible that your brother will understand, Dean,” Castiel lied, not entirely comprehending his own motivations for doing so. Dean gave him a sad smile and nodded his head.
“Let’s go, then.”
Castiel reached out and touched Dean and just like that, it was official. Dean Winchester was Heaven’s property, kept entirely separate from humanity. Castiel knew the things he was feeling only by name: guilt, shame, heartbreak-these things did not exist in paradise and the angels had taken his memories of them when his Grace was restored. Castiel realized he would not give up knowing Dean Winchester, even if it meant he could lose the painful sensations that were tugging at him. And that made it worse. He finally understood Sam.
Watching Dean for the next year was a harrowing ordeal. The angels took no mercy on the man who had led their armies to victory-he was forced to enact divine intervention, Heaven’s Will was rarely pleasant. Killing monsters was one thing, something Dean understood and did with little hesitation. But some of Heaven’s monsters were human and had motivations not unlike his brother’s. The self-loathing that Dean had once only felt on Sundays, that had made him feel so foul he’d been reluctant to even look at his brother, took over every day. He was completely alone except for Castiel; the humans he helped or damned could not even see him. Many of them thought he was a guardian angel-Castiel was surprised to find himself offended on Dean’s behalf. Though he was allowed to walk amongst them freely when he was not on a mission, he could not speak to them. His freedom was useless-he could go anywhere, watch anything…as long as he stayed away from Sam.
The angels tried to make his time in Heaven more pleasant only so that he would forget about his brother and stay in their service. Bribes would be offered to him daily, beautiful women, cars, and mansions-Dean rejected all of them without hesitation, except for one. Castiel had seen the pained desire flooding the man’s face, but he had known as well as Dean had that the Sam Heaven offered was not real. Lacking demon blood and a history of sin, the carbon copy of Sam also lacked Dean’s brother’s thoughts and feelings. He existed solely to seduce Dean. Castiel did not comprehend how Heaven could misjudge Dean’s desires so outrageously. While Dean’s entire body quaked with lust, it was only a moment before he pushed the offering away, more disgusted than ever.
Every day when he got back to the garrison, he would approach Castiel looking worn-down and lonely. He would ask about Sam, Castiel could not answer. He had the power to see Sam, but knew he would be punished if he were caught helping Dean keep his feelings for his brother alive. Still, there was little Castiel feared more than the lifeless look in Dean’s eyes every time he answered “I do not know.”
After that first year of watching Dean get more and more miserable by the day, Castiel folded and went to see Sam. He decided there would be no harm done if he was discreet. As long as Sam did not know he was there and he could give Dean the slightest hint of an honest answer.
What he found was not what he had expected. Castiel had come to accept that Heaven and his own judgment had failed Sam Winchester years ago. There was a time he had feared that by the time Dean returned from his deal, Sam would have fallen back to the demons who were also his blood. It had seemed to him that Heaven was resurrecting the Anti-Christ Dean had somehow managed to bury deep inside of Sam-creating one of the creatures it was Dean’s duty to destroy. When he got a glimpse of the Sam Winchester that had been left behind, it was hardly that intimidating, but it certainly wasn’t reassuring, either.
He had come to understand that expecting Sam to fall again was a ridiculous notion as he spent more time with Dean. Dean spoke of little else but how Sam was doing, he would imagine what life was like for his brother-nothing overly glamorous or unrealistic, just calm, happy ways his brother was getting on without him. Castiel figured Dean knew Sam well enough to be right.
Dean had promised Sam would be completely normal, but there was no normal to be found. There was no cute blonde, no babies smiling in their father’s arms, no beautiful rose garden in front of a quiet family home. There was a man who had once been formidable, asleep on a motel bed looking nothing like his former self. He was still Sam, of course, though worn and thin and looking somehow younger than he had during the war. There were empty bottles and books scattered around, knives and guns showing that Sam had done anything but settle down and leave hunting behind. When he awoke, he moved as if programmed, his face showed as much emotion as Castiel had felt before he had been mixed up with humans, but something in the man’s eyes showed he wasn’t as calm and adjusted as his movements suggested. Castiel felt his spirit sink on Dean’s behalf. Sam Winchester was pitiable, almost to the point of being pathetic.
Castiel went back to heaven unsure of what he was going to say to Dean. The truth, he knew, would kill his friend and telling Dean he didn’t know anything about Sam had been hard enough the first four hundred or so times. So he decided, once again, that he would lie to Dean Winchester. That night, Castiel broached the subject before Dean even got a chance to ask.
“I saw your brother today.”
Dean froze, then stared at the angel for clarification. “You…what?”
“I went to see Sam for you, Dean.”
Castiel was immediately bombarded by what felt to him like a thousand questions, each harder not to wince at than the last.
“Sam is well. He is healthy. He is hunting. He seems to be doing fine.”
“Still hunting, huh? He’ll be settled by the time I get back. He’ll be exactly like he always wanted. Did…did you talk to him?”
“No, Dean, it was dangerous enough that I was there.”
“Of course, of course,” Dean said as if he understood and then asked another question to prove that he either could not or would not understand. This time there was an edge to the question, a little spark of fear because there was no way Castiel could answer it without hurting him and he knew it. “Is…there someone? He isn’t alone?”
“I was not able to stay for long. There may have been someone, there may have not.”
“But…he didn’t seem too lonely, right?”
“No,” Castiel said leaving it at that. Dean tried to ask more but the angel withdrew from the conversation, leaving Dean to smile over the way he had taken the angels words. Castiel did not regret the lies because of the smile on Dean’s face, but answering more questions was risky, could lead to telling Dean the truth. The truth was that he had never seen anyone so lonely in his existence.
For the next few weeks, Castiel continued to visit Sam Winchester and observe how the man was doing. It was for Dean, or so he told himself, but in reality he had developed his own fondness for his friend’s brother. Even knowing that Sam did not know he was there, and that the younger Winchester brother despised him-probably more now than ever-Castiel felt compelled to spend time with the man, to give him some company.
True, Sam was not always alone and he seemed not to worry most of the people he interacted with as much as he worried Castiel. The man Castiel knew to be Bobby visited Sam the most, or Sam would go and stay with the hunter for short periods. He was the only person who realized that Sam was unhappy, though he rarely ever said anything about it. Castiel was frustrated by the lack of support Sam was receiving, frustrated that he had to continue to lie to Dean, and frustrated to be caring so much. He knew that Bobby did what he could, but that nobody could really give Sam the support he needed. Nobody on Earth, at least. It was becoming increasingly clear that Castiel was not gifted at remaining impartial when it came to the Winchesters. He had another bad idea and the unfortunate notion that he was going to give in to it.
_______________________________
Sam had been having a pretty decent day, considering how lousy most days were. He’d taken out the spirit he was in town to hunt before noon and got a chance to go back to the motel, have a beer, and lay around relaxing for once. So, of course, this was the day his least favorite supernatural being happened to knock on the door.
“Hello, Sam Winchester,” Castiel said blandly into the barrel of the pistol Sam habitually aimed at his visitors, just in case. Reassured that the guest was not a threat, Sam would normally have put the gun down and welcomed his guest inside, but he held the gun at the angel’s face regardless.
“Are you going to shoot me?” Castiel asked and for a moment he nearly thought the angel’s expression had been playful. It had almost looked like a face Dean would have made.
“Man, I would like to,” he said roughly before lowering the weapon. “Guess it wouldn’t do any good.”
“It would not afflict any harm, either.”
Sam’s face was incredulous. It was the second time in two minutes that the angel had attempted banter. Which was, aside from the fact that he had stolen everything Sam had and should have known how unwelcome he was, just not terribly in character for any angel.
“What do you want from me?”
“I wish to speak with you.”
“With me? You’re too late; I’ve done all the damage I can do. If you wanted to waste me, you should have done it earlier.”
Sam was in the process of slamming the door in Castiel’s face when he felt a cold hand grabbing his shoulder from behind.
“It is not about you, it is about your brother,” the angel said by way of explanation and as much as Sam wanted to pretend he didn’t care or want to hear it, his resolve was non-existent.
“Tell him I understand. I forgive him. He doesn’t have to feel guilty, and I’m glad he’s happy. You, on the other hand, I’m not as fond of, so say what you have to say and get the fuck away from me.”
“Your brother is not happy, Sam, that is why I am here.”
Sam sat down and indicated that Castiel might as well do the same. He couldn’t imagine what an angel could possibly have done to make Dean unhappy when Dean had put up with him and dad and hunting for so long without too much complaint and he wasn’t really inclined to believe the angel anyway.
“He’s happy,” Sam said softly. “That’s why he left. He’s been better off.”
Sam had been repeating these words to himself for over a year and just the suggestion that they weren’t true made him more miserable than he’d been since Dean left. The fact that Dean was finally happy somewhere was all Sam had been living off. If Castiel had ruined that for Dean after stealing him, Sam didn’t want to hear about it.
“You do not know why he left. If you did, I assure you, you would feel differently.”
“I know he left with you. I know he loves…” Sam’s voice fell off.
Castiel made a confused face at Sam and then a “oh, I get it” face that might have been hilarious under different circumstances.
“Dean does not love me, not the way he Loves you. He has not been happy since he left, he was only happy during the brief time you shared. You should have known him well enough to have understood that.”
“I saw you,” Sam said hotly. “I saw you together for weeks and then he left with you. So save whatever this is, he chose and he chose you. Congratulations, you won. Isn’t that enough? Now leave me alone.”
“It was not how it appeared. I was simply guiding your brother. I consider him a friend; I am sure he feels similarly.”
“Then why would he leave? We…I thought we were happy.”
“Three years ago, your brother made a deal with Heaven. He promised to serve the angels, on their terms, for seven years. For two years, they only required him to serve them on the Lord’s Day. The day he left you was the day they changed the rules.”
“That’s ridiculous. Dean wouldn’t agree to be Heaven’s bitch again.”
“The deal was for your soul.”
Sam’s face fell. “The deal was what now?”
“They told Dean they would damn you to eternal hellfire if he did not cooperate.”
“Because of-“
“Because of the things they tricked you into just as much as Hell did, Sam.”
“No, it was my fault. My decision. I’m supposed to go to Hell.”
“Regardless of if that is the case, you are not going to.”
“Tell him to come back, Castiel. Tell him to stop. It’s not his soul; he shouldn’t be working for it. I’ll go, I’ll serve.”
“The angels do not want you and Dean would not trade places with you even if they did. He is proud of what he is doing for you, but it is costing him much.”
“Yeah, that sounds like Dean.”
The angel seemed to smile a little bit at Sam.
“So why are you telling me this? Why now?”
“I…am fond of your brother. He cares for you deeply. I want to make sure he comes home to what he deserves.”
“Meaning?”
“He thinks you will have settled by then. He thinks you will be normal when he gets back. He expects a wife and children. I want you to never let him know how hard the last year and a half was for you. I want you to be happy when he returns, whatever it takes to be happy, Sam. Your brother comes home everyday more run down and all he wants to talk about is you. I need to be able to go back to him and give him good news.”
“You can talk to him for me? You can tell him I’m waiting and I Lo-“
“Dean can never know I have spoken to you. He thinks I have only visited you once or twice when in reality, I have been watching over you often. If I told Dean, it would mean the end for all of us.”
“Why’s that?”
“Heaven has forbidden your brother from interacting with you.”
“If you’re both careful-“
“Sam, your brother is not discreet.”
“So what, you’re funny now?”
“I am afraid it is beginning to look that way. Dean is, once again, having a negative effect on my ability to perform my duties in good conscience. The angels only gave me my Grace back because Dean will deal with no one else. I only accepted it for the same reason. But they have seen my behavior becoming more human since your brother came to Heaven and they keep a close eye on me. I have already stayed here too long, I will be lucky if I survive this meeting.”
“You should come back. You should visit.”
“I must limit my interactions with you.”
“I understand. I meant after Dean’s back, when you’ve fallen again.”
“If I make it that far, I will make sure to visit…both of you. You are a good man, Sam Winchester, despite what Heaven believes.”
“You’re a good man, too,” Sam said gently. The irony of the statement was wasted on Castiel.
“It was a compliment, Cas, I don’t have a high opinion of angels.”
Castiel nodded, smiled, and disappeared. Sam spent the next week trying to wrap his mind around the visit before he gave up and decided to just take the angel’s advice and be happy.
_______________________________
Dean’s life got a hell of a lot easier after Castiel finally started to go see Sam. Despite how guilty he felt for leaving his brother, he could tell Castiel was not lying when he told him Sam was happy and that was enough to get Dean through a lot. True, it was still no walk in the park. He hated every moment he spent on call for Heaven, the things they made him do still made his stomach tie in knots. But when at last he was able to rest it was images of Sam smiling that he was sure were real that ran through his mind. No shadow of the worries that it would be the last straw for Sam, that he would not be able to recover from another loss, remained.
When finally his time was up, the angels reminded him that he would always have a place in Heaven if he got tired of suffering on Earth. Dean scoffed and was careful not to leave without telling “his superiors” exactly what he thought about them. Castiel later informed him that he had never heard such colorful language, but that he agreed with the sentiment. They went to Earth together; neither returned to Heaven.
Dean didn’t have to ask Castiel to take him to Sam; the angel knew what to do. Castiel left Dean in front of a beautiful yellow house and vanished; Dean hoped it was to find his own home. His steps were nervous and slow as he approached the house, knocked, and waited for his brother to open the door. Even if Sam was happy, it didn’t mean he was forgiven. He fully expected Sam to hate him by now, and would not blame his brother if he never even got a chance to explain himself. But that didn’t matter to him; one good look at a happy Sam whose soul was safe was all Dean needed.
“Hey, Sammy,” Dean said in an unconcerned way that came off the exact opposite of how he was feeling. “Long time.”
Dean hadn’t aged a day; in fact, he had a glow around him that almost looked like he had been given his own Grace. His eyes gave him away, however. Looking into them, Dean would have thought they belonged to an old man. He was hoping Sam wouldn’t pick up on the implications of either change.
Sam didn’t say anything for a long time. He didn’t smile or hit Dean, he just stared in shock. Dean wished he would hurry up and pass his judgment already.
“I’m Dean, your brother. You probably don’t remember me.”
Dean was too busy attempting to make his joke and avoid his brother’s gaze to see it coming when he was hit full on by his brother’s massive embrace.
“Oww.”
“I’m sorry,” Sam said pulling away. He gave his brother another long glance and was incapable of restraining himself from pulling him close again. “I’m sorry, I’m just-you’re back, you’re really here. Dean, I missed you so much.”
“You…you’re glad I’m here? You don’t hate me?”
By now Sam was ushering Dean into the house with a smile that almost made Dean want to cry.
“Hate you? How could I hate you?”
“Well, I kind of abandoned you,” Dean said, his attempt to sound unconcerned only enhancing the hurt buried in his indifferent tone.
“Dean, I know why you left. Castiel told me. He told me years ago.”
“That sneaky son of a bitch.”
“No, he…I think maybe he saved my life. I…I didn’t take it well, losing you again. Nothing like the last time-just, well, it was nice to know you were coming back.”
“Sam, I tried to tell you, they wouldn’t let me. I never would have left if-“
“I know, Dean, save it. I understand why you did it, even if it was the wrong thing to do…jerk.”
Dean heard the strained attempt to go back to the way things were before he left and was thankful for it. If Sam was uncomfortable, too, they could at least be awkward together.
“I had to, bitch,” Dean said before finally dropping his forced playfulness. “Really, Sam. I had to. Please don’t be mad at me, please.”
“I forgave you years ago. Besides, you’ve made worse deals with worse people before.”
“Well, that much is true. And you’re really okay with it?”
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not thrilled that it happened, but I’m pretty psyched not to be going to Hell and I appreciate the sentiment. Honestly, Dean, I am thankful, I just wish it hadn’t cost you so much.”
“It wasn’t so bad as long as I knew you were okay. And…I thought you were happy. I mean, you are, aren’t you? You have this beautiful house. You’re a civilian, Sammy. It’s what you always wanted.”
“He wasn’t lying if he told you I was happy all this time. I have been, for the most part. But the first year wasn’t easy. I kind of lost it at first and when I finally got back into the hunt I was…reckless. Suicidally so. But I pulled through. A hundred times when I should have died I got through it anyway. You would have been proud of me, man; I pulled some stunts back in those days.”
“Dammit, Sammy, you could have been hurt.”
Dean knew that wasn’t true, Sam’s survival had been part of his deal with Heaven. It had been the angels that had prevented his brother’s death time and time again because if Sam died while he was in Heaven, Dean would have been back to Earth. But an instinct he was too happy to feel rising in himself again told him to scold his brother for putting himself in harm’s way and there was no chance Dean was going to let logic ruin that for him.
“The point is I survived. And I figured that meant I was still around for a reason and I thought, even if you left me because you hated what I turned into, you went to Hell to save my life and I owed it to you to stop charging into hunts half-cocked.”
“So you quit?”
“No, no, I kept hunting until Cas came and told me what you had done. He basically told me to quit hunting and pull myself together. And he wasn’t kidding about it, either.”
“What a drama queen, that one.”
“No, a good friend. Anyway, I struggled with what to do for a while. I had been hunting for so long because I felt guilty, felt like I needed to atone…but you were doing that for me and as much as I hated that you were doing it, I didn’t want it to go to waste. And then I thought I should keep going because I could help people. But…but more than anything I wanted to help you, and Cas said I could only do that by being happy. I couldn’t be happy as a hunter, Dean. Not alone, you know I never could.”
“No, I know, Sammy, I never wanted you to be alone.”
“I stopped hunting, I did that for you. I did all of this for you. I would have gone on punishing myself forever, but he promised you would be back and you wouldn’t be able to stand seeing me like that. And now, here you are. And…I’m happy, Dean. I’m finally completely happy. Nothing’s missing.”
Sam’s face was so earnest, Dean wished he could take a picture. He’d never seen his brother looking even half as content as he looked then.
“You got a girl, then? Kids, maybe one on the way? A job and a mortgage?”
“I’m a lawyer now, an honest to God one. A year out of grad school, hired before I’d even finished. And the house is paid off.”
“How could you afford that, this place is nice.”
“She was a fixer upper, Dean. She came cheap. Nothing in this house I didn’t work on myself, with some help from Bobby. Don’t give me that look; I had a lot of free time on my hands.”
“Actually, the look was about how gay your decorating is.”
Sam gave his brother a friendly jab. Dean’s heart sped up at the innocent touch.
“And…” Dean swallowed hard. “And the girl?”
“No girl, Dean.”
“You live in this place alone?”
“No, we live in this place together.”
Once again, Dean tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to kiss Sam yet because, well, it would probably be a little sudden. He didn’t even know if Sam still felt that way about him. But damn did he want to.
“So those girly roses out front were all you, then?”
“Like I said, a lot of free time. Besides, I like gardening. Helps me stay in shape.”
“That so? I hadn’t noticed,” Dean lied trying to keep his eyes off the rather impressive results of Sam’s physical labor.
“Here, look.”
Sam grabbed Dean’s hand and worked it up his shirt, moving it over his tight chest.
“Ohh,” Dean said stupidly. “Yup, yeah, I see your point.”
He tried to pull away but Sam just put his other arm around Dean and pulled him close until his lips were nearly touching Dean’s and Dean was going to have a very obvious reaction if Sam didn’t back off soon.
“You still-“
“I always,” Sam confirmed, closing the distance between them. Dean’s fingers tangled in his brother’s hair and he tried to get the impossible truth to sink in. It was real, all real. Him and Sam were going to have normal lives, safe, and in Love…and stable. From that day on, they were always happy. Especially on Sundays.
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean, Castiel
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Rating: PG-13? There’s really nothing in here that’s shocking, except that these brothers are in love. References to sex but nothing graphic (I’m disappointed, too).
Word Count: 7,470
Author’s Note: Written for whenthewarsover prompt # 36:
The apocalypse is over and Sam hates that Castiel still comes calling, every Sunday. Following Dean to their meeting place in secret, angry and jealous, he discovers the nature of Dean's latest deal.
Beta’d by the ever wonderful wutendeskind with extra helpful guinea pig input from the incomparable catpantsss. SPOILER ALERT!: Angels are dicks (except Castiel *squishes him*) Spoilers up to Lucifer Rising with potentially spoiler-y guesses about certain aspects of Season 5. ETA 5/7/2013: Thanks to eos_rose, you can now read this in epub format here.
Summary: The Apocalypse has ended, but Dean is still going on sneaky meetings with Castiel every Sunday. A heart-broken Sam must accept that he may not be first in Dean’s heart when his brother disappears without a word. When he discovers Dean’s real reason for leaving, however, he sets out to give Dean the life they both always wanted.
Fanfiction Link: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5302827/1/
They were happy every day of the week, except for Sundays. Every single day began when Dean woke up in bed next to Sam and smiled so wide his face hurt. Every single night ended when Sam wrapped his body around his brother’s sleeping form. Every single day since Lucifer fell. Except for Sundays.
By the time Sam woke up on Sundays, Dean would be up and around, making breakfast or working on something-the Impala, a case, anything that kept him busy. Not so bad for a normal couple, except that Sam was used to waking up with Dean in bed still next to him-awake but immobile, enjoying the sun on his face and Sam’s body as it casually slept beside him. Productivity was not Dean’s forte now that they actually got to relax and Sam felt like the only thing spurring Dean out of bed on Sunday mornings was some instinctive drive to get away from him. The day would begin with a strained, awkward good morning that would set the mood for their interactions all day. Cold, distant-they were always strangers on Sunday.
After years of only giving in to their cravings when they were too overpowering to ignore, they had finally accepted that they were more than brothers and that maybe that wasn’t so bad after all. They had grown accustomed to possessive kisses, to tangling their fingers, to holding each other night after night after night and how good that felt, even when they were too tired to do anything but melt into each other and sleep. They had grown accustomed to making Love. Not just angry or desperate, not the “get-it-over-with-so-we-can-start-feeling-guilty” sex that had been haunting them since the first time their world collapsed and they had nothing to cling to but each other. There was plenty of hot and heavy, too. But finally, for the first time, really making Love: slow, gentle, maybe a little more tender than two men should have been capable of.
Never on Sundays. They didn’t kiss, they didn’t touch, they certainly didn’t have sex. At night, when they went to bed, Dean would lie as far on his side of the mattress as he could manage without falling off and Sam knew better than to try to follow him there.
Sam was pretty sure this was not a religious thing-or at least not something Dean did because of his great respect for the church. It would be fine if Dean was some kind of devout believer trying to atone for the multitude of sins he indulged in every other day of the week (after all, pre-marital homosexual relationship with his brother aside, Dean didn’t really stick to any of the two or three rules his and Sam’s relationship didn’t break particularly well, either). But the Apocalypse had done anything but make Dean religious and he actually went out of his way to disrespect the side he had helped win the war on most days.
Naturally, Dean’s rebelliousness did not hold up on Sundays. Sam, who had once been a religious type himself, grew to hate Sundays. A lot of it was the way Dean treated him (which was already bad enough). But then there were the disappearances, too. It didn’t matter where they were-big cities, tiny towns, places that had been flattened in the chaos the world had barely survived. Whenever noon rolled around, Dean would leave and he wouldn’t return for hours. He would re-enter the room in a worse mood than before and go immediately to bed, not a word or a look for Sam. Sam often imagined he could feel the chill from Dean’s body all the way on his side of the bed. Only one time had Sam tried asking Dean, on a Monday after it had only been going on for a few weeks, where he went on Sunday nights. Dean smiled playfully and said “To church,” as if it were all some joke.
Sam had been willing to put up with this abnormality for an awfully long time. There was plenty that he felt guilty about and he was so lucky to have Dean six days a week-a Dean who was completely forgiving of the mess he had made and who, incredibly, still Loved him after all of it-that he was willing to accept one day of punishment. He deserved this and worse, he knew that. Dean should have killed him or abandoned him right in the church where he had raised Lucifer and caused, with one mistake, billions of deaths. But Dean had said the things he had done because of Ruby were forgiven and had been so sincere that Sam had believed him.
It was clear from the way he acted on Sundays that Dean was as angry as ever and just couldn’t let Sam go. As much as it hurt him to think of ever leaving what he had with Dean, he was never going to be able to live by his brother knowing that a part of him, however repressed, still hated Sam for his mistakes. Dean had been so reassuring during the war, had worked so hard to convince Sam that he shouldn’t hate himself for the things he had done with good intentions, that Sam had begun to forgive himself. After all that healing, Sam hated himself more than ever that one day of the week. If Dean was going to let him live, he couldn’t ask him to live like that.
So after two years of telling himself to trust his brother and reminding himself that this behavior was his own fault, he had finally reached his boiling point. He had to know what Dean was doing, why Dean was being so uncharacteristically spiteful, if there was a way to salvage what they had or if he would be better off leaving Dean to find someone who was good enough for him (or at least who wasn’t, you know, technically the Anti-Christ).
That was why after sixty-seven weeks of not questioning Dean’s actions, Sam attempted to follow Dean wherever he went and find out what exactly he was up to. Sam had ghosted Dean as quietly as he could, not that it was easy to sneak past Dean, but Dean seemed absorbed enough in what he was doing to not notice his brother. To Sam’s shocked relief, Dean did not get into the Impala once he was outside but kept heading straight for the woods that lined the town they were staying in. Sam had little trouble keeping up with Dean and when Dean had wandered about a mile into the woods without seeming to have any real idea where he was going, he paused and leaned casually against a tree as if he was waiting for something. Sam ducked behind a nearby tree and kept his eyes glued to Dean for thirty minutes before anything happened. The entire time, Dean wore his Sunday scowl and stared into space as if he were mesmerized.
“Hello, Dean,” Sam heard a voice that was a little too familiar and a little too close to where Dean was standing say in its usual monotone.
“Hey, Cas,” Dean said sounding tired, but not at all unpleasant. Sam felt something in his chest give way-Dean had smiled at the angel when he had approached. It was the first time Sam had seen Dean smile on a Sunday in over two years.
“Are you ready?”
“Aren’t I always?”
Castiel looked a little uncomfortable, but he nodded. His hand reached out and pressed against Dean’s chest. If they hadn’t disappeared immediately after that, Sam was sure he would have blown his cover. Not that it mattered any more, Sam was pretty sure it would have been a mercy if Dean had killed him in that church and he was positive there was nothing either Dean or Castiel could do to him for spying that was worse than what they were doing when they thought he wasn’t watching. For the first time since the Apocalypse had ended, Sam’s eyes burned with tears.
Sam spent the next three weeks trying to decide what to do and if there was another explanation for what he had seen than the one he’d jumped to. Sam couldn’t understand why Dean was with him every other day if it was Castiel he wanted. There was a chance they couldn’t be together because of what Castiel was, but even if Dean was just biding his time on Earth, it wasn’t like him to string Sam along as back up. Beside the fact that it was incredibly out of character, it just didn’t feel like Dean was pretending, not even when Sam was looking for the signs. He knew Dean pretty well-his smiles and kisses felt too authentic to not mean what Dean’s intimate whispers promised they meant. But then, there it was every Sunday. Sam would follow, Castiel would look hesitant, Dean showed no signs of regret, and then the two would begin to embrace and vanish. The conversation rarely deviated, not until the fifth week Sam followed Dean.
“Hello, Dean.”
“Hey, Cas.”
“Ready?”
“Always am.”
“You know, you do not have to do this. Sam-“
“We don’t talk about Sam. Let’s go.”
Castiel looked as if he was about to say something else, but his head snapped very quickly in the direction of the tree Sam was hiding behind. Sam hadn’t been able to prevent himself from making some small sound in reaction to Dean’s bitter tone; it was obvious the angel had sensed it. He immediately grabbed onto Dean and they disappeared.
That night, Sam made his decision. He was going to leave Dean, to let him go with Castiel without feeling bogged down. Sam was ready to confront his brother, he waited up for him running through the things he was going to say to try to make it clear that he forgave Dean for what he was doing, even if he was going the wrong way about it. But by the time Dean got home, it was past midnight for the first time since Dean and Castiel’s Sunday meetings had begun. It was Monday. Dean walked into the room and saw Sam waiting up and immediately it was all lips and tangled limbs. Sam’s memories of Dean’s icy words melted under his brother’s hot touch. He realized he would never be able to leave Dean again, not even for Dean’s sake. It was going to have to be up to Dean to choose between his brother and Castiel.
The next week, Dean chose. He left on Sunday, like he always did. Sam didn’t bother to follow. He didn’t come back.
_______________________________
Dean Winchester hated Sundays more than probably anything else, but this one was taking the cake. He’d been summoned hours earlier than was usual and the pleading look Sam had given him before he’d walked out the door had nearly broken his resolve. He wanted to tell his brother where he was going, wanted Sam to know that the way he acted on Sundays had nothing to do with him, but that would cost him everything. Sam wasn’t supposed to know. Dean was forbidden to tell and he didn’t really want to, despite how much he hated Sam’s pained faces. Sam would try to talk him out of it, try to tell him it wasn’t his job. It had always been his job. One day his time would be up and they would both be able to forget about Sundays, maybe even enjoy them. Until then, Dean’s only consolation was that Castiel was with him and Castiel was a good friend…when he wasn’t trying to talk Dean into reneging on his deal.
“Dean, go home.”
“I’m ready when you are, Cas. Let’s go.”
“No, Dean, not today. You have to go back.”
“I really thought we were past this. You promised. How would your bosses feel if they knew you were trying to talk me out of this?”
“They would kill me, you know that.”
“Again!” Dean said with a smirk. “And I bet this time they won’t let you have your Grace back.”
“Not after tonight. Tonight I am going to talk you out of this.”
“Never, Cas. I’m not joking, let’s go.”
“They are changing the rules, Dean. They are breaking the promise. You cannot come with me tonight, because if you do, you will not come back.”
“What?”
“Not until your time is up. Dean, go back to your brother. Be happy in this life. He knew what he was doing when he did it. Give him a happy life and let him deal with his own sins.”
Dean shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense. The deal was Sundays. I’ve been here every Sunday.”
“I know what the deal is and what it was supposed to be. They are not like demons, they can break them. I am telling you they are breaking it.”
“You can’t seriously mean-“
“That is five more years. One day a week for only two has already changed you beyond recognition. You do not deserve this, you saved the world. You have to live for you and Sam will-“
“If Sam hadn’t been there, I would have been dead long before it came time to fight Lucifer. Sam did more than enough to make up for his mistakes during the war and it’s thanks to him we’re still doing clean up. I was ready to quit. Why don’t they think about that a little?”
“They do not care, Dean. All they see, all they want to see, is what Sam did before. You know that, we have had this discussion.”
“Sam’s not going to Hell. Not ever, you hear me? I’m going back before Sam’s going. So what, I go with you and only get to see Sam on Sundays instead of the other way around?”
“No, Dean. If you come with me tonight, you will not see your brother again until your seven years are up. They are trying to separate you. They think Sam will forget about you if you are gone long enough, they want you to have nothing to return to, they want you to serve them for life.”
“You think so, too.”
“What?”
“You think Sam’s going to forget about me.”
“Dean, I think Sam is not the saint you make him out to be. He did awful things the last time he lost you; he certainly found ways to fill the void. I think he will find something again and that if we are not careful it will-“
“You know, Cas, I like you, but you really suck at reading people.”
“Humanity is a fascinating puzzle to me. I was not given enough time amongst you to understand your motivations. I only know what Sam did and I am not impressed by your brother’s morality.”
“Sam’s not going darkside again, not even if he thinks I abandoned him. He was trying to help.”
“That is not the subject at hand.”
“No, right, sorry. The subject is that you’re making me choose between spending the next five years being miserable and probably losing my brother’s trust, or going home and accepting the fact that Sam is going to Hell because Heaven’s full of self-righteous dicks who are trying to damn him on a technicality so that I’ll be their bitch.”
“Not me, Dean. Heaven. I am only a messenger.”
Dean paused for a few moments to let his anger subside a little. This wasn’t Castiel’s fault, so he shouldn’t have been taking it out on him. But it was a little too much to swallow without taking it out on someone.
“They can really do it, Cas? He’s really going to go to Hell?”
“I am sorry, Dean. They have sin enough for damnation. Your brother’s offenses are well recorded and formidable. However good his intentions were, his soul is compromised. The angels do not understand grey areas.”
“Then take me with you, but…” Dean’s eyes darted back the way he had come. “Let me go back. Just long enough to explain to him-“
“If you leave here, your decision will be made for you. If you leave here, Sam’s soul will no longer be capable of redemption.”
“But he’ll think I-I’m awful to him on Sundays, Cas. I can’t look at him. I hardly talk to him. He doesn’t know the things they make me do; he thinks it’s him I’m angry at. If I leave without saying goodbye he’ll think it’s because of-he’ll hate me.”
“That is one of the reasons I do not think you should come with me. I want to help you help your brother, but I do not have the power to go against their orders. They wish to force you apart. Letting you go back would destroy their designs.”
_______________________________
For a long time, Dean looked torn. He spoke out-loud, though more to himself than to the angel. Castiel found it fascinating that despite how much Dean despised the missions the angels sent him on, despite the fact that the things they made him do in Heaven’s name sent him back to his brother aged and broken and so repulsed by his own actions that he had come to dread Sundays more than he had dreaded the Apocalypse, it was Sam’s reaction to his disappearance that he feared most. Dean bore his brother no ill-will; even though it was Sam’s sins he was atoning for. Castiel watched the man he had come to respect more than any angel he had known tear himself apart over emotions for a man who had done monstrous things and found himself wishing, not for the first time, that he could understand Dean Winchester as well as Dean Winchester understood him. He did not interfere in the argument Dean was having with himself, he had given the man all of the input he had to offer. He watched nervously until, finally, Dean seemed to have come to a decision.
“It’s just like Stanford,” Dean murmured. “It’s not that much longer. Maybe he’ll understand. Maybe he’ll know I wouldn’t leave him without a good reason. He’ll know, won’t he?”
Castiel remained silent for a few moments until he realized Dean was staring at him and waiting for an answer. And from the look on his face, there was only one answer he could stand to hear.
“It is possible that your brother will understand, Dean,” Castiel lied, not entirely comprehending his own motivations for doing so. Dean gave him a sad smile and nodded his head.
“Let’s go, then.”
Castiel reached out and touched Dean and just like that, it was official. Dean Winchester was Heaven’s property, kept entirely separate from humanity. Castiel knew the things he was feeling only by name: guilt, shame, heartbreak-these things did not exist in paradise and the angels had taken his memories of them when his Grace was restored. Castiel realized he would not give up knowing Dean Winchester, even if it meant he could lose the painful sensations that were tugging at him. And that made it worse. He finally understood Sam.
Watching Dean for the next year was a harrowing ordeal. The angels took no mercy on the man who had led their armies to victory-he was forced to enact divine intervention, Heaven’s Will was rarely pleasant. Killing monsters was one thing, something Dean understood and did with little hesitation. But some of Heaven’s monsters were human and had motivations not unlike his brother’s. The self-loathing that Dean had once only felt on Sundays, that had made him feel so foul he’d been reluctant to even look at his brother, took over every day. He was completely alone except for Castiel; the humans he helped or damned could not even see him. Many of them thought he was a guardian angel-Castiel was surprised to find himself offended on Dean’s behalf. Though he was allowed to walk amongst them freely when he was not on a mission, he could not speak to them. His freedom was useless-he could go anywhere, watch anything…as long as he stayed away from Sam.
The angels tried to make his time in Heaven more pleasant only so that he would forget about his brother and stay in their service. Bribes would be offered to him daily, beautiful women, cars, and mansions-Dean rejected all of them without hesitation, except for one. Castiel had seen the pained desire flooding the man’s face, but he had known as well as Dean had that the Sam Heaven offered was not real. Lacking demon blood and a history of sin, the carbon copy of Sam also lacked Dean’s brother’s thoughts and feelings. He existed solely to seduce Dean. Castiel did not comprehend how Heaven could misjudge Dean’s desires so outrageously. While Dean’s entire body quaked with lust, it was only a moment before he pushed the offering away, more disgusted than ever.
Every day when he got back to the garrison, he would approach Castiel looking worn-down and lonely. He would ask about Sam, Castiel could not answer. He had the power to see Sam, but knew he would be punished if he were caught helping Dean keep his feelings for his brother alive. Still, there was little Castiel feared more than the lifeless look in Dean’s eyes every time he answered “I do not know.”
After that first year of watching Dean get more and more miserable by the day, Castiel folded and went to see Sam. He decided there would be no harm done if he was discreet. As long as Sam did not know he was there and he could give Dean the slightest hint of an honest answer.
What he found was not what he had expected. Castiel had come to accept that Heaven and his own judgment had failed Sam Winchester years ago. There was a time he had feared that by the time Dean returned from his deal, Sam would have fallen back to the demons who were also his blood. It had seemed to him that Heaven was resurrecting the Anti-Christ Dean had somehow managed to bury deep inside of Sam-creating one of the creatures it was Dean’s duty to destroy. When he got a glimpse of the Sam Winchester that had been left behind, it was hardly that intimidating, but it certainly wasn’t reassuring, either.
He had come to understand that expecting Sam to fall again was a ridiculous notion as he spent more time with Dean. Dean spoke of little else but how Sam was doing, he would imagine what life was like for his brother-nothing overly glamorous or unrealistic, just calm, happy ways his brother was getting on without him. Castiel figured Dean knew Sam well enough to be right.
Dean had promised Sam would be completely normal, but there was no normal to be found. There was no cute blonde, no babies smiling in their father’s arms, no beautiful rose garden in front of a quiet family home. There was a man who had once been formidable, asleep on a motel bed looking nothing like his former self. He was still Sam, of course, though worn and thin and looking somehow younger than he had during the war. There were empty bottles and books scattered around, knives and guns showing that Sam had done anything but settle down and leave hunting behind. When he awoke, he moved as if programmed, his face showed as much emotion as Castiel had felt before he had been mixed up with humans, but something in the man’s eyes showed he wasn’t as calm and adjusted as his movements suggested. Castiel felt his spirit sink on Dean’s behalf. Sam Winchester was pitiable, almost to the point of being pathetic.
Castiel went back to heaven unsure of what he was going to say to Dean. The truth, he knew, would kill his friend and telling Dean he didn’t know anything about Sam had been hard enough the first four hundred or so times. So he decided, once again, that he would lie to Dean Winchester. That night, Castiel broached the subject before Dean even got a chance to ask.
“I saw your brother today.”
Dean froze, then stared at the angel for clarification. “You…what?”
“I went to see Sam for you, Dean.”
Castiel was immediately bombarded by what felt to him like a thousand questions, each harder not to wince at than the last.
“Sam is well. He is healthy. He is hunting. He seems to be doing fine.”
“Still hunting, huh? He’ll be settled by the time I get back. He’ll be exactly like he always wanted. Did…did you talk to him?”
“No, Dean, it was dangerous enough that I was there.”
“Of course, of course,” Dean said as if he understood and then asked another question to prove that he either could not or would not understand. This time there was an edge to the question, a little spark of fear because there was no way Castiel could answer it without hurting him and he knew it. “Is…there someone? He isn’t alone?”
“I was not able to stay for long. There may have been someone, there may have not.”
“But…he didn’t seem too lonely, right?”
“No,” Castiel said leaving it at that. Dean tried to ask more but the angel withdrew from the conversation, leaving Dean to smile over the way he had taken the angels words. Castiel did not regret the lies because of the smile on Dean’s face, but answering more questions was risky, could lead to telling Dean the truth. The truth was that he had never seen anyone so lonely in his existence.
For the next few weeks, Castiel continued to visit Sam Winchester and observe how the man was doing. It was for Dean, or so he told himself, but in reality he had developed his own fondness for his friend’s brother. Even knowing that Sam did not know he was there, and that the younger Winchester brother despised him-probably more now than ever-Castiel felt compelled to spend time with the man, to give him some company.
True, Sam was not always alone and he seemed not to worry most of the people he interacted with as much as he worried Castiel. The man Castiel knew to be Bobby visited Sam the most, or Sam would go and stay with the hunter for short periods. He was the only person who realized that Sam was unhappy, though he rarely ever said anything about it. Castiel was frustrated by the lack of support Sam was receiving, frustrated that he had to continue to lie to Dean, and frustrated to be caring so much. He knew that Bobby did what he could, but that nobody could really give Sam the support he needed. Nobody on Earth, at least. It was becoming increasingly clear that Castiel was not gifted at remaining impartial when it came to the Winchesters. He had another bad idea and the unfortunate notion that he was going to give in to it.
_______________________________
Sam had been having a pretty decent day, considering how lousy most days were. He’d taken out the spirit he was in town to hunt before noon and got a chance to go back to the motel, have a beer, and lay around relaxing for once. So, of course, this was the day his least favorite supernatural being happened to knock on the door.
“Hello, Sam Winchester,” Castiel said blandly into the barrel of the pistol Sam habitually aimed at his visitors, just in case. Reassured that the guest was not a threat, Sam would normally have put the gun down and welcomed his guest inside, but he held the gun at the angel’s face regardless.
“Are you going to shoot me?” Castiel asked and for a moment he nearly thought the angel’s expression had been playful. It had almost looked like a face Dean would have made.
“Man, I would like to,” he said roughly before lowering the weapon. “Guess it wouldn’t do any good.”
“It would not afflict any harm, either.”
Sam’s face was incredulous. It was the second time in two minutes that the angel had attempted banter. Which was, aside from the fact that he had stolen everything Sam had and should have known how unwelcome he was, just not terribly in character for any angel.
“What do you want from me?”
“I wish to speak with you.”
“With me? You’re too late; I’ve done all the damage I can do. If you wanted to waste me, you should have done it earlier.”
Sam was in the process of slamming the door in Castiel’s face when he felt a cold hand grabbing his shoulder from behind.
“It is not about you, it is about your brother,” the angel said by way of explanation and as much as Sam wanted to pretend he didn’t care or want to hear it, his resolve was non-existent.
“Tell him I understand. I forgive him. He doesn’t have to feel guilty, and I’m glad he’s happy. You, on the other hand, I’m not as fond of, so say what you have to say and get the fuck away from me.”
“Your brother is not happy, Sam, that is why I am here.”
Sam sat down and indicated that Castiel might as well do the same. He couldn’t imagine what an angel could possibly have done to make Dean unhappy when Dean had put up with him and dad and hunting for so long without too much complaint and he wasn’t really inclined to believe the angel anyway.
“He’s happy,” Sam said softly. “That’s why he left. He’s been better off.”
Sam had been repeating these words to himself for over a year and just the suggestion that they weren’t true made him more miserable than he’d been since Dean left. The fact that Dean was finally happy somewhere was all Sam had been living off. If Castiel had ruined that for Dean after stealing him, Sam didn’t want to hear about it.
“You do not know why he left. If you did, I assure you, you would feel differently.”
“I know he left with you. I know he loves…” Sam’s voice fell off.
Castiel made a confused face at Sam and then a “oh, I get it” face that might have been hilarious under different circumstances.
“Dean does not love me, not the way he Loves you. He has not been happy since he left, he was only happy during the brief time you shared. You should have known him well enough to have understood that.”
“I saw you,” Sam said hotly. “I saw you together for weeks and then he left with you. So save whatever this is, he chose and he chose you. Congratulations, you won. Isn’t that enough? Now leave me alone.”
“It was not how it appeared. I was simply guiding your brother. I consider him a friend; I am sure he feels similarly.”
“Then why would he leave? We…I thought we were happy.”
“Three years ago, your brother made a deal with Heaven. He promised to serve the angels, on their terms, for seven years. For two years, they only required him to serve them on the Lord’s Day. The day he left you was the day they changed the rules.”
“That’s ridiculous. Dean wouldn’t agree to be Heaven’s bitch again.”
“The deal was for your soul.”
Sam’s face fell. “The deal was what now?”
“They told Dean they would damn you to eternal hellfire if he did not cooperate.”
“Because of-“
“Because of the things they tricked you into just as much as Hell did, Sam.”
“No, it was my fault. My decision. I’m supposed to go to Hell.”
“Regardless of if that is the case, you are not going to.”
“Tell him to come back, Castiel. Tell him to stop. It’s not his soul; he shouldn’t be working for it. I’ll go, I’ll serve.”
“The angels do not want you and Dean would not trade places with you even if they did. He is proud of what he is doing for you, but it is costing him much.”
“Yeah, that sounds like Dean.”
The angel seemed to smile a little bit at Sam.
“So why are you telling me this? Why now?”
“I…am fond of your brother. He cares for you deeply. I want to make sure he comes home to what he deserves.”
“Meaning?”
“He thinks you will have settled by then. He thinks you will be normal when he gets back. He expects a wife and children. I want you to never let him know how hard the last year and a half was for you. I want you to be happy when he returns, whatever it takes to be happy, Sam. Your brother comes home everyday more run down and all he wants to talk about is you. I need to be able to go back to him and give him good news.”
“You can talk to him for me? You can tell him I’m waiting and I Lo-“
“Dean can never know I have spoken to you. He thinks I have only visited you once or twice when in reality, I have been watching over you often. If I told Dean, it would mean the end for all of us.”
“Why’s that?”
“Heaven has forbidden your brother from interacting with you.”
“If you’re both careful-“
“Sam, your brother is not discreet.”
“So what, you’re funny now?”
“I am afraid it is beginning to look that way. Dean is, once again, having a negative effect on my ability to perform my duties in good conscience. The angels only gave me my Grace back because Dean will deal with no one else. I only accepted it for the same reason. But they have seen my behavior becoming more human since your brother came to Heaven and they keep a close eye on me. I have already stayed here too long, I will be lucky if I survive this meeting.”
“You should come back. You should visit.”
“I must limit my interactions with you.”
“I understand. I meant after Dean’s back, when you’ve fallen again.”
“If I make it that far, I will make sure to visit…both of you. You are a good man, Sam Winchester, despite what Heaven believes.”
“You’re a good man, too,” Sam said gently. The irony of the statement was wasted on Castiel.
“It was a compliment, Cas, I don’t have a high opinion of angels.”
Castiel nodded, smiled, and disappeared. Sam spent the next week trying to wrap his mind around the visit before he gave up and decided to just take the angel’s advice and be happy.
_______________________________
Dean’s life got a hell of a lot easier after Castiel finally started to go see Sam. Despite how guilty he felt for leaving his brother, he could tell Castiel was not lying when he told him Sam was happy and that was enough to get Dean through a lot. True, it was still no walk in the park. He hated every moment he spent on call for Heaven, the things they made him do still made his stomach tie in knots. But when at last he was able to rest it was images of Sam smiling that he was sure were real that ran through his mind. No shadow of the worries that it would be the last straw for Sam, that he would not be able to recover from another loss, remained.
When finally his time was up, the angels reminded him that he would always have a place in Heaven if he got tired of suffering on Earth. Dean scoffed and was careful not to leave without telling “his superiors” exactly what he thought about them. Castiel later informed him that he had never heard such colorful language, but that he agreed with the sentiment. They went to Earth together; neither returned to Heaven.
Dean didn’t have to ask Castiel to take him to Sam; the angel knew what to do. Castiel left Dean in front of a beautiful yellow house and vanished; Dean hoped it was to find his own home. His steps were nervous and slow as he approached the house, knocked, and waited for his brother to open the door. Even if Sam was happy, it didn’t mean he was forgiven. He fully expected Sam to hate him by now, and would not blame his brother if he never even got a chance to explain himself. But that didn’t matter to him; one good look at a happy Sam whose soul was safe was all Dean needed.
“Hey, Sammy,” Dean said in an unconcerned way that came off the exact opposite of how he was feeling. “Long time.”
Dean hadn’t aged a day; in fact, he had a glow around him that almost looked like he had been given his own Grace. His eyes gave him away, however. Looking into them, Dean would have thought they belonged to an old man. He was hoping Sam wouldn’t pick up on the implications of either change.
Sam didn’t say anything for a long time. He didn’t smile or hit Dean, he just stared in shock. Dean wished he would hurry up and pass his judgment already.
“I’m Dean, your brother. You probably don’t remember me.”
Dean was too busy attempting to make his joke and avoid his brother’s gaze to see it coming when he was hit full on by his brother’s massive embrace.
“Oww.”
“I’m sorry,” Sam said pulling away. He gave his brother another long glance and was incapable of restraining himself from pulling him close again. “I’m sorry, I’m just-you’re back, you’re really here. Dean, I missed you so much.”
“You…you’re glad I’m here? You don’t hate me?”
By now Sam was ushering Dean into the house with a smile that almost made Dean want to cry.
“Hate you? How could I hate you?”
“Well, I kind of abandoned you,” Dean said, his attempt to sound unconcerned only enhancing the hurt buried in his indifferent tone.
“Dean, I know why you left. Castiel told me. He told me years ago.”
“That sneaky son of a bitch.”
“No, he…I think maybe he saved my life. I…I didn’t take it well, losing you again. Nothing like the last time-just, well, it was nice to know you were coming back.”
“Sam, I tried to tell you, they wouldn’t let me. I never would have left if-“
“I know, Dean, save it. I understand why you did it, even if it was the wrong thing to do…jerk.”
Dean heard the strained attempt to go back to the way things were before he left and was thankful for it. If Sam was uncomfortable, too, they could at least be awkward together.
“I had to, bitch,” Dean said before finally dropping his forced playfulness. “Really, Sam. I had to. Please don’t be mad at me, please.”
“I forgave you years ago. Besides, you’ve made worse deals with worse people before.”
“Well, that much is true. And you’re really okay with it?”
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not thrilled that it happened, but I’m pretty psyched not to be going to Hell and I appreciate the sentiment. Honestly, Dean, I am thankful, I just wish it hadn’t cost you so much.”
“It wasn’t so bad as long as I knew you were okay. And…I thought you were happy. I mean, you are, aren’t you? You have this beautiful house. You’re a civilian, Sammy. It’s what you always wanted.”
“He wasn’t lying if he told you I was happy all this time. I have been, for the most part. But the first year wasn’t easy. I kind of lost it at first and when I finally got back into the hunt I was…reckless. Suicidally so. But I pulled through. A hundred times when I should have died I got through it anyway. You would have been proud of me, man; I pulled some stunts back in those days.”
“Dammit, Sammy, you could have been hurt.”
Dean knew that wasn’t true, Sam’s survival had been part of his deal with Heaven. It had been the angels that had prevented his brother’s death time and time again because if Sam died while he was in Heaven, Dean would have been back to Earth. But an instinct he was too happy to feel rising in himself again told him to scold his brother for putting himself in harm’s way and there was no chance Dean was going to let logic ruin that for him.
“The point is I survived. And I figured that meant I was still around for a reason and I thought, even if you left me because you hated what I turned into, you went to Hell to save my life and I owed it to you to stop charging into hunts half-cocked.”
“So you quit?”
“No, no, I kept hunting until Cas came and told me what you had done. He basically told me to quit hunting and pull myself together. And he wasn’t kidding about it, either.”
“What a drama queen, that one.”
“No, a good friend. Anyway, I struggled with what to do for a while. I had been hunting for so long because I felt guilty, felt like I needed to atone…but you were doing that for me and as much as I hated that you were doing it, I didn’t want it to go to waste. And then I thought I should keep going because I could help people. But…but more than anything I wanted to help you, and Cas said I could only do that by being happy. I couldn’t be happy as a hunter, Dean. Not alone, you know I never could.”
“No, I know, Sammy, I never wanted you to be alone.”
“I stopped hunting, I did that for you. I did all of this for you. I would have gone on punishing myself forever, but he promised you would be back and you wouldn’t be able to stand seeing me like that. And now, here you are. And…I’m happy, Dean. I’m finally completely happy. Nothing’s missing.”
Sam’s face was so earnest, Dean wished he could take a picture. He’d never seen his brother looking even half as content as he looked then.
“You got a girl, then? Kids, maybe one on the way? A job and a mortgage?”
“I’m a lawyer now, an honest to God one. A year out of grad school, hired before I’d even finished. And the house is paid off.”
“How could you afford that, this place is nice.”
“She was a fixer upper, Dean. She came cheap. Nothing in this house I didn’t work on myself, with some help from Bobby. Don’t give me that look; I had a lot of free time on my hands.”
“Actually, the look was about how gay your decorating is.”
Sam gave his brother a friendly jab. Dean’s heart sped up at the innocent touch.
“And…” Dean swallowed hard. “And the girl?”
“No girl, Dean.”
“You live in this place alone?”
“No, we live in this place together.”
Once again, Dean tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to kiss Sam yet because, well, it would probably be a little sudden. He didn’t even know if Sam still felt that way about him. But damn did he want to.
“So those girly roses out front were all you, then?”
“Like I said, a lot of free time. Besides, I like gardening. Helps me stay in shape.”
“That so? I hadn’t noticed,” Dean lied trying to keep his eyes off the rather impressive results of Sam’s physical labor.
“Here, look.”
Sam grabbed Dean’s hand and worked it up his shirt, moving it over his tight chest.
“Ohh,” Dean said stupidly. “Yup, yeah, I see your point.”
He tried to pull away but Sam just put his other arm around Dean and pulled him close until his lips were nearly touching Dean’s and Dean was going to have a very obvious reaction if Sam didn’t back off soon.
“You still-“
“I always,” Sam confirmed, closing the distance between them. Dean’s fingers tangled in his brother’s hair and he tried to get the impossible truth to sink in. It was real, all real. Him and Sam were going to have normal lives, safe, and in Love…and stable. From that day on, they were always happy. Especially on Sundays.