Guardian Part Three
Part Two
After a few nights, Castiel watched Dean sneak out of his room. Ever since his last outburst, he simply laid there, asking to see Sam to which the answer was always a resounding “No”. He knew the man was already planning on leaving soon but he was dead set on seeing his brother’s corpse first. Dean had already figured out the location of the morgue, and had his assigned number. As the angel followed him, he noticed the clenching jaw line, the stiff sway of his shoulders. Dean was forcing himself to do this; He could tell that much. Reaching their destination, Dean inserted a key he swiped from one of the newbie nurses and opened the door.
There, Dean paused. His chest was rising and falling rapidly and his hands were starting to shake. Something inside of Castiel… struck him. Whatever it was, the sensation as entirely unpleasant and it only rose the more he watched Dean eyeing the identification cards. His hand stopped at one and the two stood there for a long time until Dean let out a shaky breath.
He opened the box shaped door, grasped a handle and pulled the roller out. A white blanket was covering the body but Dean had to turn around, his hand over his mouth and eyes scrunched up. Castiel stepped closer, staring.
Before he got a good look at the human’s eyes, Dean whirled around and yanked the sheet off. He stumbled backwards and doubled over.
“Oh Sam, oh god. SammySammySammy,” Dean chanted.
The human was shaking all over and suddenly heaved up whatever was in his stomach. More silence. It took him a little bit, but eventually Dean straightened and edged towards the corpse again. His tremors never stopped though.
He stared at his brother, tears now freely running down his face. The body was no longer his brother, just a corpse, but Castiel knew Dean didn’t see it like that. All he saw was his baby brother laying lifeless with deep burns covering nearly all of the body.
Moving closer to Dean, Castiel felt like he needed to do something but didn’t know what. He wasn’t allowed to do anything.
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone,” Dean started talking again. “I found the mother; She’s alive. I got her out of the house. By the time I found you-” Dean cut himself off, his voice hitching up an octave. “The baby, the little girl, she didn’t make it, man. We … we searched for that kid but in the end she didn’t make it and you--- God dammit it, Sammy. I swear to you. I’ll kill him for this. I’ll kill him.”
The yellow eyed demon had taken everything from him; He lost his mom and then the grief changed his dad. He lost his chance at a normal suburban family life and now he lost Sammy too. The last decades of his life had revolved around Sammy and Dean only wanted to scream. He lost his whole fucking family and for what reason? Because some Hell bitch decided to randomly throw a curse on the Winchester family? Well, he had another thing coming. Because Dean was going to tear him apart.
Dean hardly has to glance at the phone; He already knows is Jessica calling. Again. He’s lost track of the exact number but he can’t bring himself to answer. He stares at the phone and wants to chuck it; Wants to destroy the damn thing. But he can’t. It was the only number Dad had of theirs and Dean couldn’t waste it.
He can’t just answer though.
Jessica deserved to know and Dean grimaced. God, he wanted another drink. He didn’t want to think. Didn’t want to imagine a world without Sam. Can’t imagine one without his little brother always riding shotgun.
He hit the wheel a few times, welcomed the physical pain that made him temporarily forget his freaking out inside. Dean felt his stomach is turning over and over and he wanted to claw his eyes out from frustration.
They shouldn’t have gone inside that house. The mother lived, sure, but she lost her child. The baby was probably already dead by the time Sam had found her.
Dean needed to pull over. Take a few deep breaths.
He needed a drink.
A hunter couldn’t live like this. He needed to stop reliving it but in a Winchester trademark, he couldn’t block the imagery of Sam laying in the room, clutching the baby. Couldn’t erase the smoke clouding his head and making his eyes water because goddammit that was Sammy.
His Sammy.
Gone.
There was something Sammy would have wanted him to do; He needed to head to California.
Dean crossed the California border just as the sun was setting. He blatantly realized he hadn’t eaten anything all day but he didn’t have the enthusiasm to search for a diner. He just continued to drive. The closer he got to the apartment, the tighter he gripped the steering wheel.
The last time he had driven here it was dark too. Last time he’d been listening to the same cassette tapes he’d listen to after he just lost his mom and was getting use to a life on the road. Last time he’d been worried about Dad but was also sick of being alone. He needed Sam. And when Sam agreed to come with, well, Dean had promised Jessica that he would keep his brother safe. And then he hadn’t cared at all about Jessica. Because all he cared about was Sam and him working jobs and trying to contact their dad.
Sammy’s cell rang again and something inside Dean was hitting him hard.
The buildings were growing ever familiar as Dean approached the old building. He’d been driving for days and it was all for this. At least Jessica would stop calling after this. Pulling up behind another car, Dean cut the engine. Silence filled the empty space and Dean felt heavier than ever.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, staring at the apartment building and pretending not to notice the space missing right next to him. Finally, Dean got out, shutting the door gently behind him. Walking straight took effort and Dean felt like he was having an out-of-body experience.
He buzzed Jess’ room and suddenly wondered if Jessica even lived here. Maybe that’s why she was so insistent on trying to reach them? Maybe he should’ve actually listened to some of the messages she left instead of just deleting them. After a moment of no answer, Dean let himself feel a bit of hope. Confrontation wasn’t something Dean had wanted anyway. He tried; He did his part. A Bud Light was calling his name at some nameless hotel and Dean wanted nothing more to lose himself with some nameless lady and try to forget; wash Sammy out of his mind just for the night.
But then his hopeful planning was forgotten.
“Hello?” Jessica’s voice hit right through him and Dean drew his shoulders back, set his face to stone. He needed to do this. Sam would’ve wanted him to.
“Jess. We need to talk.” How he got those words to sound so calm and sure Dean had no idea.
There was a pause and for a moment Dean didn’t think she recognized his voice. But then: “Hold on; Come right up.”
Not bothering to answer, Dean opened the door after the buzz and headed up the stairs. He took two at a time, trying not to think about what he had to do next. Standing outside he didn’t hesitate to knock. If he stopped to think he was just going to run back down to his baby and drive away; only leave a note or something.
But then the door opened and there stood Jessica. She was dressed in pajamas; just like the first time they met. Right now she sported a simple tank top and sweatpants. Her hair was pulled up and she looked beautiful without a hint of makeup on her face. Sam really knew how to pick them.
She looked excited, though surprised to see Dean standing there.
“Dean!” She exclaimed and then leaned to her left, looking behind him for Sam as if he was hiding behind his shorter brother. Then she stepped a bit out of her door and looked up and down the hallway. Seeing they were clearly alone she slowly looked back up to Dean. He saw panic in her eyes and he could practically see the gears turning in her head: All the calls headed straight to voicemail. All contact from Sam suddenly lost within the last few weeks. Dean standing in front of her door. Alone.
“Where’s Sam?” Jessica asked, her voice stressed.
Dean shut his eyes for only a few seconds, took a breath and then with an intense level of concentration broke it to her: “He’s gone.”
Straight to the point.
Jessica’s hands flew to cover her mouth and she strained to look at him as the waterworks began to flow.
“There was an accident; Sam... Sammy didn’t make it.”
A sob wrenched out from Jessica and she suddenly sprung at him, hitting him all over; pounding away at his chest like it would reverse history. “You promised me! Sam promised me--- Oh god. Sam. How could you let this happen?” She was yelling now and Dean could hear movement from the other rooms. It was late and the two of them didn’t need to deal with an audience. He gently grabbed the woman’s shoulders and guided her back inside and shut the door.
Jessica was sobbing now. Her blows had slowed and instead she let herself hold onto him, letting what Dean only assumed what she had thought to be real. Sam was dead. Dean messed up and Sam wasn’t coming back.
Wrapping his arms around her, Dean held her close as the blonde curls tickling his throat. Jessica just clutched at his shirt, still shaking. The surge of emotion hit Dean as well and everything he was trying to hold back clawed at his head.
The guilt. Losing Sam on his watch. He should’ve stayed closer. Should’ve called it a hopeless cause. Sure, the mother would’ve died but Sam-Dean gritted his teeth. Even now he couldn’t form that thought. Felt extremely ugly for wishing another innocent life dead just so Sam could’ve lived.
If Jessica noticed Dean’s tremors or the tightening of his arms around her, he was glad she chose not to comment.
He didn’t know how long they stayed like that. When Jessica finally grew silent, Dean released his arms. She goes to the bedroom and brings out a blanket and a pillow. Dean nods his thanks and after a moment of just staring at him, she turns on her heels and heads back to the bedroom. The door doesn’t shut.
Dean lays on the couch for a long time. He doesn’t move, and it’s the replay of that smoke filled night and blue eyes that force him into a restless sleep.
When Dean wakes it’s still dark outside but he’s grateful for the break from watching the scene of finding Sam over and over again. He sits upright, crushing the heels’ of his hands to his eyes, willing the images away. After a few breathes he gets up and stumbles his way to the bathroom. Not bothering to shut the door he takes a much need leak and washes his hands making sure to avoid the man looking back at him through the mirror. He really didn’t want to see what sort of haunted look he had going on.
He splashed some cold water on his face; He should get out of here. He couldn’t stand being in a place that contained traces of Sammy. He’d leave his number for Jess and a note saying if she ever needed anything from him to not hesitate to call him. It’s what Sam would expect from him.
It was on his watch Sam died anyway.
The least Dean could do was try to make Jess, someone who had actually sported an actual relationship with Sam, feel like she had some sort of connection to Sam; Some sort of feeling that she could have protection if needed.
Shutting the light off behind him, a thudding noise turned the hunting hackles up as Dean reached for his trusty .45 and silently walked the few feet over to the open room. The door was more shut now and when Dean heard another thud he kicked the door wide open only to find the room empty. Movement from above caught his eye though and Dean’s knees almost buckled.
Jessica was on the ceiling, staring at him. The red from her abdomen dripped steadily and her face was twisted up, fear racing through her eyes.
Dean lowered his gun, mouth agape. He stood frozen.
Then the fire started. Jessica’s lips formed a silent scream as the stench of burnt flesh hit Dean hard. He stumbled back as the flames grew, consuming the woman and then the room.
Dean took one last look at her, searing the image into his memory and then turned and then ran out of the room and back down to his car.
That night, Dean drank every alcoholic beverage offered in the small named motel room.
Dean has always been committed to cases but Castiel finds that the Winchester has had an eerie obsession as of late. His habits were already unhealthy for a human but the man has gotten worse since without Sam. Not like when Dean was with his father while Sam was off in Stafford. No, this is much worse. If he wasn’t investigating, then he was in a bar. If he wasn’t in a bar he was at a motel room, drinking by himself.
The uncomfortable feelings he got from watching Dean like this, the way his stomach clenched and no matter how much he wanted to think about it, he just didn’t know what it meant. He knew what Dean was doing was part of his training; He needed to be strong and this would help him.
Castiel worried it would break him first though.
In the last two weeks Dean took care of a werewolf, three ghosts and a nasty poltergeist that would have gotten him if Castiel hadn’t sent a large book case toppling down as a warning. Then Dean would be on the computer, researching anything he could about the yellow eyed demon. John Winchester did not answer any of his son’s phone calls. After every attempt, Dean would throw his phone against the wall and open a new bottle. He ignored calls from other hunters, determined to do this alone. The human woke up multiple times during the night in cold sweats. Then he’d go and drink.
It was by sure coincidence that Dean accidently dialed his voicemail instead of his most recent contact. He was driving, on the way to his next case, when he figured he might as well clean out his inbox. After deleting a few meaningless calls, his nearly slammed on the breaks when he listened to the fourth waiting message.
One of his Dad’s old contacts said that he saw John in town and, well, he seemed a bit off. He didn’t stick around long enough for them to really be sure he was himself, but they tracked down his car and the cabin he was staying at and would Dean like to know that information?
This time Dean did stop in the middle of the street, before roaring the engine to life and turning around.
After driving all night and six hours the next morning, Dean arrived at his destination. He took two wrong turns while trying to find the stupid place his father apparently rented. Seriously? What was the hell was his father thinking? Unless… unless he was cracking down on yellow eyes. Dean floored his baby and a good three minutes later he was pulling up in front. His father’s truck was nowhere in sight and Dean figured he must be out. Well, that didn’t mean he couldn’t make himself comfortable.
He got out of the car, lightly shutting the door behind him. He walked up to the cabin’s door and tried the door knob. It was unlocked and Dean reached for his gun. He opened the door slowly, lowering his gun when he sees absolutely nothing inside the room. Footsteps behind him made him swing around, gun up and ready.
It was a girl and though he couldn’t place her, something seemed very familiar.
She looked him up and down and let out a low whistle.
“Dean Winchester; You’re all grown up.”
There was a sick feeling in his stomach, like he shouldn’t try to remember but he doesn’t have a chance to think when his head suddenly throbbed in pain and the world goes black.
“Wakie wakie Dean!”
Dean groans, his head still pounding but he forces himself to open his eyes. He’s staring up at some blonde chick but he still doesn’t remember her. His arms are tied above his head and all weapons hidden in his clothes were removed. Fuckin’ great.
“What the hell do you want?”
“Language, Dean. What would your mother say? Now, try again.”
“What the hell do you want, bitch?”
That earns him a kick in the stomach but he would be proud to say he doesn’t utter a sound.
“You think you’re cute, don’t you,” she sneers to which Dean rolls his eyes. “But you’re not very smart. After all, you fell for such a simple trap Dean. Here’s a clue: If it seems too easy, it probably is.”
“Oh, sweetheart: Fuck you.”
The woman feigned shock. “What a mouth you have. Did Sammy have one too? You know, I never got along to meeting him. Pity really. I bet he was one cute baby. I don’t even get to see what he looks like now; thanks to you getting him killed.”
“You’re the mother.”
From the fire. The one that Dean rescued. The one that survived but the baby and Sammy---
“Dingdingding! That-a-boy Deaney! I go by Meg though. I knew you could use that little brain of yours. Now. Let’s go back to talking about Sammy. What was I saying? Oh yes.
“Poor, poor Sammy. Though, unlike you, he’s not alone,” Meg said as she knelt down to eye level.
Dean’s brain was racking trying to process all of this. “You’re a fuckin’ liar,” he spat and the demon grinned sinfully.
“Am not,” she sang, holding her last word out a bit longer.
“Don’t tell me you thought he was surfing upstairs, watching over you.” Suddenly she was laughing erratically like it was the funniest thing she had ever heard.
All Dean can see now is red and he tried to launch himself at her, tugging at the bonds on his hands. This only encourages the bitch’s laughing so Dean bucked up and landed a successful kick to her stomach. If he wasn’t so angry he’d be laughing himself now, giving his old smirk. He felt the victory in shutting up Meg for a few seconds until her eyes turned pitch black and she was literally snarling at him.
Castiel watches as Meg delivers her own punch this time and doesn’t hold up. She kept bruising, mauling Dean and the angel feels, FEELS, the overwhelming desire of hatred towards this woman for daring to hurt this man under his care. Power rushed through his veins as he takes a step forward, ready to send this woman back down to Hell.
“You are no longer to interfere in fights unless absolutely necessary. He needs to learn, Castiel. And you would be wise to remember your place as a warrior for Heaven.”
The remembrance of his recent visit to Heaven sends a stiffening chill up his spine and the anger was already draining away. Anna was right; Heaven was right. Dean would be faced with many hardships and he could only benefit from experiencing such pain. With a new resolve, Castiel refocused on the scene in front of him.
Meg was finally letting up on her attacks. She was panting now, stepping back as if to admire her handy work. Dean was responsive and for a moment Castiel thought perhaps she did go too far but was relieved when Dean coughed, blood spattering out of his mouth.
“You Winchesters think you’re so cute. If I could kill you, believe me I would baby. Daddy says no though so I guess you are getting off pretty lucky, huh?” She turned around, mocked leaving, and then faced Dean again. “You know what? I don’t feel right without leaving a little parting gift.”
She raised her foot over Dean’s knee and then brought it down hard. She laughed as Dean let out a scream that rang in Castiel’s ears.
“Oh sweetie, did that hurt? Here, let me try to fix it.” She leaned over, pressing her lips to the top of his head before crushing the same place again. And again and again and again. Dean cried out every time and then she was gone. Left Dean laying there, still tied up, miles away from any sort of human contact.
Castiel appeared in front of Dean, reaching his hands out. He wanted to cure all the pain. There were cuts all over his face a more than several places over his body which would undoubtedly bruise in the next few hours. One shoulder was dislocated and the kneecap was definitely broken. There was no way Dean could fight like that; how was he suppose to lead when he couldn’t walk?
Before Castiel could let himself think of another way, he placed his hand upon the broken part and let his grace flow through him and into Dean. Dean groaned and opened his eyes and looked straight at the angel in front of him. Before Castiel could do anything, let alone respond, the hunter’s eyes slid shut and his body slumped backwards.
The angel let out a sigh of relief. Unconscious. He could work with that. Dean probably wouldn’t think of this, let alone remember Castiel’s face. Castiel nodded to himself, then stepped back to look over Dean again. He had controlled himself and only healed the knee so it was not in fact broken, just another bruise to add to the count list. He pushed the thoughts of Heaven away. Surely they would not remove him right after Dean’s encounter with one of Lucifer’s older children. Something Meg said didn’t sit right with Castiel though. Why would her boss not wish for Dean’s death? Why hold off on offing who would be one of Heaven’s greatest warriors?
The day grew darker and still Dean stayed out of it. Storm clouds gathered and rain poured down. The angel wanted to cut the rope, transport Dean back to the motel, or even his car but that would show too much unwanted attention from Heaven. That was why, not three seconds later, he found himself unfolding his ugly wings and extending his right over Dean’s body to block the rain. He realized he wanted to do more, really does, but the pain from Heaven is still there and his retaught lesson of obedience still fresh.
Yet he still acted on whims earlier. He had disobeyed and Castiel closed his eyes, clenching his jaw.
This was new ground. Lord forgive him, Lucifer had rebelled.
Castiel opened his eyes, a fierce look of determination crossing his features. No. He wouldn’t rebel. He couldn’t; he was nothing like his fallen brother.
Yet, he didn’t move his wing.
Part Four