Guardian Part Two
Part One
After that night, Castiel knew Dean’s life was only going to grow harder as he carried out his Fate. This was only the start of Heaven’s plans.
Out of rage and loss, John Winchester raised his two boys to think with his mindset of revenge; to use anger as an anchor to remember Mary and all the evil that was in the world. Castiel watched Dean shoot his first gun and then stick a bottle in Sam’s mouth. Dean was always one for following orders and John trained his son like a solider. Dean grew strong and clever; He learned from the jobs his father took him on and the importance of being careful.
Sam was eager to follow Dean’s footsteps but it quickly became apparent that the brothers were not the same. Instead of managing the guns, he’d rather go to whatever school they were in that week. He listened to Dean, but he always resented him and his father just a bit. It was obvious he didn’t like taking orders. But he stayed by Dean. Dean essentially became his role model and Dean did whatever he could to keep Sammy safe.
Sam, however, could not see Castiel. The angel wasn’t surprised by that but the one time Dean brought it up to his little brother, Sam laughed and asked if he was joking. Dean’s cheeks had turned an interesting color while he laughed and told Sam, “Totally had you goin’ didn’t I? You should’ve seen your face, man.” Neither boy brought it up again.
Castiel still followed Dean everywhere, and Dean just accepted that. He one time asked Cas “Am I crazy? You just made up?” But the angel had shaken his head and placed his hands on Dean’s shoulders. “I am real; Just as you.” The boy smiled but for some reason he had the feeling Dean was still reluctant on the manner.
On hunts, Castiel was never far away from Dean. He found himself giving hints, helping push Dean to his limits but also covering for him like when John showed up late to help or when Dean was thrown backwards and knocked out. A quick touch to the forehead woke the boy and he thanked Cas before rushing off to finish the job. He shouted warnings when a monster was getting close and eventually had to force himself to pull back; This was Dean’s training and Dean needed to experience the most he could of it. But that didn’t mean Castiel couldn’t be there to ease some of the physical pain.
John Winchester was astounded by his son’s talent. He bragged to all the other hunters who would raise their cups to Dean as he gave his resounding smile that had morphed into something more of mockery over the years. Still, there was more that needed to be done. Dean could always use more training and Castiel was thrown off guard the first time Dean asked if they could spar against each other. The angel hastily declined, saying it would not be a good idea and was glad Dean didn’t protest too much.
One day John walked in on them talking.
Of course, all John saw was his son holding a conversation with thin air.
“Dammit Dean,” John started yelling.
Castiel saw Dean go rigid from his father’s tone and his eyes glanced to the bottle held in his father’s hand.
“I thought you outgrew this shit. You’re a hunter, son. And you can’t be crazy from the start or you’ll wind up getting us all killed!”
John continued, telling Dean it was long overdue for him to be talking to imaginary creatures; it was time he started acting like a hunter and rid himself of his childhood insecurities.
Frustrated, Dean finally argued back. “Dad, I’m not crazy,” he yelled, quickly continuing from his father’s stunned silence. “Just hear me out. I’m not making people up. Dad, Castiel is real. He’s a-”
But John didn’t want to hear any of that.
The first punch he threw, Dean could’ve easily missed. But the boy was distracted and the blow to his jaw sent him to the floor. John got on one knee and hit him again. He kept chanting “This is what’s real; your family is the real thing.”
By the time John left (no doubt to another bar), Dean’s face was a bloody mess. Sam cautiously entered the room carrying a wet washcloth. Neither of the children spoke when Sam cleaned up his face and then brought him an ice pack.
John didn’t return for a few days and during that time, Dean started to ignore the angel. Castiel thought it was for the best, though he couldn’t explain his want for Dean to talk to him like the past. Funny, he had always believed to be slightly annoyed with Dean’s constant chatter but now that it was no longer there he kind of missed it.
However, Castiel kept his mouth shut. It really was for the best. He only wished his charge could not see him just so Dean wouldn’t be so upset. The human threw himself into hunts, completely gave up on schooling and worked his hardest to improve his physique and reaction times. John became a very proud father.
The day Sam announced he was leaving was a hard one to watch. Both Dean and John yelled at Sam but the youngest Winchester just yelled back. The discussion was in no way productive except for Sam deciding to pack his bags that night. He left in the morning, planned on walking but Dean slipped out of bed to drive him. On the way to the bus station neither said a thing. The air was thick with tension and Dean was gripping the steering wheel, hard. When they reached the station, Dean cut the engine and just stared ahead.
“Dean-”
“No, Sam,” Dean interrupted. “Don’t make any excuses or I swear to god I’m going to give you a shiner as a going away gift.”
Sam stayed quiet for a few minutes. Then he looked at his watch and his ticket and looked back to his brother. “I have to go.”
“I know.”
“Can you unlock the door?”
Dean’s fingers curled around the steering wheel and Castiel suddenly thought he was going to drive the two of them back to the motel.
Instead, he flipped the switch that would let Sam out. The tall boy slid out of the Impala and Castiel noticed his hands were shaking. Dean got out of the car too and the way he stared at his brother, it was like he never expected to see him again. He threw his arms around Sam’s chest, pulling his brother down for a rather out of character hug. Sam looked surprised but hugged back. When they pulled away, Dean said “Be careful, Sammy.”
Sam nodded and then he walked away.
A few weeks later, Castiel messed everything up.
It was suppose to be an easy case but, of course, it was anything but. Intense thunderstorms had completely wrecked the house and surrounding area. Everywhere he stepped Dean’s shoes were covered in water. The children were in the basement and it was relatively easy to get the two kids to the stairs.
Then the trolls woke up.
He had only expected one not two of the ugly creatures. Dean electrified the first monster, successfully killing it when suddenly the second sent him flying to the opposite wall. He groaned, now completely soaked in water, but charged up his gun and before Castiel could stop him, shot the bolts at the enemy. The troll went down but Dean continued to shake.
Castiel was by Dean’s side in a second. He didn’t hesitate at all when he placed his fingers to his charge’s forehead. The familiar power circled inside him and in his panic, he let his power leap into Dean’s body, working to mend every single ache and most importantly, his wrecked heart.
As soon as he finished, he was surprised to see Dean staring directly at him, mouth agape.
“You…. You’re really real, aren’t you?”
It had to be the most ridiculous thing Castiel ever heard but he let out his truest smile and he didn’t even remember the last time he did that. Despite everything, Dean started laughing.
“I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you smile,” Dean finally managed to breathe out and was smiling himself now. Not the fake one he had been accustomed to wearing for so long now. But a true smile. The smile that reminded Castiel the first time Dean’s big green eyes landed on his. That beautiful, happy, trusting smile was the most amazing gift Dean had ever given him.
That was when the pain hit. Castiel dropped the eye contact, grabbing his head.
“Cas?” Dean questioned, suddenly scrambling up. He placed his hands on the sides of his angel’s face. “Cas what’s wrong. Tell me what’s going on.”
But the angel couldn’t talk. He didn’t need air to survive but he felt like his lungs were collapsing, felt his ribs breaking and grinding against each other. His blood was boiling and with a start, he realized what was about to happen.
Forcing his eyes open, Castiel got to gaze into the greenest eyes God ever graced.
And then he was gone.
The water, dead trolls, basement, Dean-All of it was gone. Now he stood inside an impeccably clean room.
Anna was before him. Though the last time the two had seen each other were decades ago, her face showed nothing but sorrow. There was a moment of silence, as they stared at each other and Castiel struggled for air.
“I know, Castiel,” she hissed. “You are failing Heaven, turning your back on our Father.”
“Anna, I had my reasons-”
But the redhead held up a hand.
“Now is not the time Castiel. You knew what was required of you. Cheating with Fate was not that. And now brother you must be punished.”
Castiel nodded, understanding the sentence for disobedience would be much worse. This was going to save him; save him from ending up just like Lucifer.
And he deserved it.
“We’re erasing Dean’s memory.”
Alarmed, Castiel temporarily forgot his vessel’s pain.
“More specifically, we are erasing you from his memory. If he ever gains anything back, it will be the thought of him making you up.”
“No,” Castiel muttered. Things had just started looking up for Dean. Dean needed those memories… Didn’t he?
“It is not your place to decide,” Anna continued coldly. Tone just a tad softer she said, “Please, brother. Do not fight us. This is to save you Castiel. And protect Heaven’s own Fate. ”
Castiel said nothing. He hadn’t realized just how attached he had grown to his charge and that was distressing. The idea of not having a connection to Dean though was more disconcerting than it ought to be.
“Please, Anna,” he begged one last time.
She raised her arms, eyes going white and with conviction responded “No, Castiel.”
Castiel was suddenly immobilized. His shining white wings were shown and even though he knew what was going to happen next, he couldn’t fight the scream. He felt like there were a million hell hounds attacking his wings, all trying to bite a piece. His feathers were being torn out, deep red staining the once magnificent white.
Wings were sacred and to go through this was humiliating. He thought of Dean though, and he couldn’t bring himself to hate the human. He knew, even after this was over, he would care for the boy. It would always been Castiel’s fault for getting too close.
Castiel screamed himself hoarse and even though the attack continued, he had already exhausted his vessel’s vocal cords. He had no idea how much time passed but as the last of the hellhounds left, Castiel looked over at his wings. They were nothing but bone now. The angel shut is his eyes, letting himself fall to the floor. His feathers would grow back (and that would be a whole other sensation of pain) but they wouldn’t be the same. Gone forever were his white, silky wings. Black feathers would take their place; rough and heavy and sickly looking. Everyone would know of his sins and how close he came to full disobedience and that was a fate he could never escape.
Dean gritted his teeth and looked over to Sam. His brother made his classic bitch face before holding up four fingers. Approximately four minutes before the second story caved in and everything in the house goes up in flames. Sam doesn’t openly protest to the time limit but they both knew it was risky. Dean took a deep breath and in a last minute fashion pulled out a handkerchief. He wrapped it around his mouth, making sure to knot it tight behind his head, and looked up to see Sam doing the same.
When they first found this case, the Winchesters assumed there was a rather nasty poltergeist haunting the old Victorian styled house. Two weeks ago a man mysteriously hung himself in the master bedroom. His widow claimed she heard crashes and screaming inside the room but couldn’t get the unlocked door to open. Right now she and her six month old child were still staying in the house as they had nowhere else to go. The brothers had performed a cleansing ritual the day before and assumed everything was alright. But a few minutes ago the woman had called Sam’s number, screaming someone was in her house.
Obviously they had missed something.
Dean entered the house first, flashlight shining a hazy trail in front of him, gun up in his other arm. Sam followed close behind. The taller man pointed to the left before he made his way through the dark. Dean forced himself to look away and focus on the darkness in front of him. He was worried about Sam but his brother could take care of himself. Finding the mother and her child was their main objective.
A faint thudding sound made Dean mark left and head down the hallway. The smoke was thicker here than at the entrance but there was alsoan underlining odor that made him pause. When he couldn’t immediately pinpoint the source of the smell, he pushed it to the back of his mind and hurried up the stairs and down another hallway.
He stopped in front of the door where the noise was the loudest and brought up the back of his palm to test the heat. It wasn’t hot and he shouted out a warning before he kicked at the door. The wood broke but not enough for Dean to fit through so the hunter kicked at it again to create a big enough opening. The smoke grew thicker and Dean estimated he had two minutes, maybe less.
He scanned the upturned bedroom and tightened his hold on his gun. A gagging sound snapped his attention to the far side of the room. Dean jumped over an upside chair and managed to narrowly avoid landing on pieces of a broken mirror. There was a person in front of him and when he shined his flashlight he realized it was the mother. First civilian found. She was gasping and mumbling incoherently and no matter what Dean did, he couldn’t get her to focus. He lowered his gun and placed a hand on her shoulder. He asked her where the child was but she just kept shaking her head and Dean could have sworn he heard the word “Gone.”
Less than a minute to go.
He was obviously not in the baby’s room and the widow was being no help. Dean promptly hit her hard against her temple and she went limp. He scooped her up in his arms and ran outside the room. The hallway was even blacker now, the smoke intensifying as well as the smell.
He almost tripped going down the stairs and narrowly avoided several upturned pieces of furniture until he and the female were outside. He doesn’t stop running until they are across the street and he gently laid her on the grass. Dean scanned the outside, eyes searching for Sam and felt his stomach tightening when his brother wasn’t outside. It was past four minutes now but Dean couldn’t just wait. He wiped some grime from his forehead and ran back to the unstable house.
Dean shouted for Sam when he reached the entrance and was about to run inside when he noticed the upstairs’ flooring starting to drop, bit by bit. Dean covered his eyes from the surprise debris, his heart racing as he heard the continued crashing and all he can think is Sam, Sam, Sam.
The echoes of sirens can be heard, lights flashing down the street but Dean doesn’t care. He runs around the house, set on finding another entrance. He made it to a side door, and tried the knob. It was locked and Dean cursed, dragging his leg up and kicked hard at the door frame. It hardly budges and Dean was forced to continue around the house. He spied a window big enough to fit through and used the butt of his gun to get a good size crack on the glass. He elbowed the unsteady glass, not noticing his new slivers, and pulled himself up and back inside the house.
He shouted again for Sam, and promptly coughed for breathing in the thick smoke. His head felt light and Dean started entering panic mode. Scanning the room the best he could, he determined Sam not nearby and hustled another door open. He was now in the kitchen area, living room and entrance in front of him with the ceiling practically hanging on a thin string. Dean turned away from it and goes down the next hallway. The first door opened with ease and he was so fucking grateful that it took him an extra moment to realize the room was completely trashed. He shined his light through the smoke and then went still.
Sam was lying on the ground, back towards him and Dean’s heart was hardly beating as he raced over the wrecked room. He grabbed hold of his younger brother and the rolled the man over. Sam’s handkerchief was gone and the older Winchester realized his brother was clutching something bundled in his arms.
Sam had found the baby and covered the child’s mouth with the handkerchief.
Dean had no idea what happened but he could grill for details later. Right now he had to worry about Sam. His brother wasn’t responding and Dean had no freaking clue about the baby.
Dean was physically strong but carrying Sam and a baby? He had his doubts but he had no other choice; He couldn’t leave either of them. The floor above was beginning to groan and Dean thanked whoever was watching over them that the second floor wasn’t right on top of them now. Prying the baby from Sam’s arms, Dean managed to get his brother up and over his shoulder while crouching above the floor. He held the child in one arm, and then propelled himself up. His knees screamed in protest at the extra, unevenly distributed weight. Running high on adrenaline, Dean climbed back through the door and down the hall. A crash came from behind and Dean inwardly cursed as he quickened his pace, trying to maneuver through the darkness.
Dean could hardly breathe and he can feel his body shutting down. He was in the hallway now but can’t move fast. Dean was screaming at himself to hurry but his body wasn’t responding.
He had never been religious but Dean begged to whoever was listening to help them; give him strength to keep going. He had only prayed like this a handful of times but he was desperate.
He leaned over to one side, not able to stand up right and used almost all of his concentration to slide Sam off his shoulder and down to the ground. Dean was still holding the baby as his head hit the wall behind him. Just before his eyes slipped close, he noticed a silhouette, a dim light and the purest blue eyes he had ever seen.
Dean was sure someone above answered his prayers for the first time.
As Dean opened his eyes, he noticed the dull white scenery around him and the smell of chemicals hit him right away. He was hooked up to some kind of machine and he could hear movement from outside his room. Just as he was about to search for a nurse call button, a man wearing a long white coat and carrying a clip board entered.
“Good news, sir: You’ll be fine. We’d like to keep you for a few extra days just to monitor some levels but you’ll be out here in no time.”
The smile didn’t quite reach the doctor’s eyes.
Dean coughed, and signaled to his throat; he needed the damn tube out. The doctor called for a nurse who extracted the tube and Dean coughed again once his throat was free. Opening his mouth to speak, he barely managed to ask “Where’s my brother?” Damn, he needed something to drink. As if reading his mind, the nurse presented him a glass filled with water and he hurriedly drank from it. He gagged a bit and ended up coughing even more.
“Take it easy,” she said, flashing him her own smile but Dean ignored her. She wasn’t giving him answers. He turned back for the doctor who had a peculiar look on his face.
“Where’s my brother,” Dean repeated once more and when the nurse behind him stiffened Dean felt his stomach falling. The nurse put her hand on Dean’s shoulder. The doctor cleared his throat before talking.
“The man you were with,” the doctor paused, “I’m sorry, sir. We did everything we could-”
No.
“But the damage the smoke and the gas caused to his lungs was in very high amounts due to prolonged exposure. The odds of survival were very slim. Time of death was called by the paramedics when driving you and your brother to the hospital.”
Nonononono.
“We didn’t think you would make it but someone is obviously looking out for you.”
Dean threw off the nurse’s hand and pushed her away. “I need to see him.”
Obviously not the response the doctor expected, his eyes widened. “Sir, you need to rest.”
But the Winchester was already throwing back the sheets and attempting to swing his legs over to one side of the bed. The mere effort that took had his head spinning and he grasped at the headboard just so he wouldn’t fall back. Hands were touching him again and Dean couldn’t hear anything but a faint buzz and Sam.
Sam who he pulled away from Stafford because Dean couldn’t stand being alone anymore and didn’t know what to do with his life if he wasn’t looking out for his little brother.
What a good load that did.
Sam smiling at him when he was just a baby, those dimples already showing and Mom cooing over how cute they would be when he was all grown up. It was all Sam.
And Dean failed him.
He shook off the nurse’s attempts to get him to lay back down with a forceful push that sent her into a nearby wall. Standing up, Dean’s legs buckled underneath him. The IV in his forearm ripped out and there was a spatter of red on the floor with a trail of blood running down his left arm but he didn’t care. He needed to save the last family he had. Sam couldn’t be dead. There had to be another way. The staff had to be lying to him; this was just a cruel ghost trick and any minute now Sam was going to bust through the doorway and shoot the bitches with rock salt.
But Sam didn’t come. Instead, several more people in scrubs rushed through the door as the doctor shouted out orders and then hands were grabbing him yet again.
“Don’t touch me,” Dean growled and while a lot of his strength was gone, he dug his nails into someone’s skin until he heard a scream and started thrashing at who ever got close enough.
He hardly felt the tip of a needle behind his neck before he punched the doctor directly in the face and he knew he wouldn’t be awake much longer. As the edges of his vision become fuzzy, Dean noticed a man just standing a few feet away. Before he could try to read any emotions, his thoughts shifted over to Sam and Sam only before his own eyes slipped shut.
Part Three