Fic: Different Kind of Pain
Title: Different Kind of Pain
Rating: PG
Summary: In Heaven, there is peace. There is forgiveness. There is no harsh judgement, because the judgement has already been made. If only Dean knew that.
Warnings: Established character death
A/N: The second part of my Greyhound Bus ‘Verse. Or the GHB!Verse, as I’ve started calling it. Lyrics are from the Sarah Evans song Backseat of a Greyhound Bus. Title is from Daughtry’s Home.
Word Count: 676
Disclaimer: The characters and song lyrics aren’t mine. If they were, I’d be rich. Kinda.
Somewhere between Jackson and Memphis
She finally found what she had been missin’
The bed was warm and soft, and Dean was seriously entertaining the idea of staying there forever.
He didn’t remember getting off the bus, wasn’t even sure where they were. But Cas’ arms were wrapped around him, the covers were pulled up high, and he was happy. He wasn’t about to ruin his bliss with questions.
The sun had risen and set three times since he’d first found himself in the unfamiliar bed in the unfamiliar room that smelled like flowers and rain. It was cheesy, yeah, but it was also perfect.
“We should go see them,” Cas whispered against his skin. Dean wasn’t sure who they were, but the idea of leaving the room, the bed, the safety and the comfort wasn’t all that appealing to him.
“Things are different here,” the angel insisted. “They won’t judge.”
Dean finally forced his eyes open. “Who?”
“Your family. You’re scared of what they’ll think.”
“What family?” the hunter asked, voice bitter. He’d seen his mother die, had killed his father, had watched his little brother fall in the midst of the battle, beaten by a plant, of all things. “They’re dead.”
Cas looked up at him and smiled sadly. “Where do you think we are, Dean?”
He looked around the room again. It was painted light blue. The only window stood open, breeze blowing filmy curtains. Pictures of his family adorned the walls, pictures that he couldn’t remember existing. His mom and dad standing with Jess outside of a nice house. Sam and Jess getting married. Everyone but him and Cas.
“Where are we?”
“Home.”
The conversation in the bus rushed back to him suddenly, along with everything else. The demons ripping him to shreds as Sam bled out and Castiel screamed, a clean bus, his hand in the angel’s, promises of home and peace and forever.
“I’m dead.”
Lips soft against his forehead. “You did it.” Lips soft against his own. “When Gabriel fell, you picked up the charge. You turned the tide. You won the war.”
“I’m dead.”
“You’re home.”
Dean turned to him and frowned, pulling the angel closer, wrapping the warm body in his arms. “You’re still…”
Cas smiled. “I’m whatever you want me to be. You seemed to prefer Jimmy Novak.”
“Is he…?”
The smile faded. “They found his family, destroyed his house. I allowed him to be with them.”
Dean nodded. “Ok.”
The angel looked down at their intertwined fingers. “Your family will understand, Dean.”
He sighed. “I hope so.”
-.-
“I don’t understand,” Jess muttered, leaning close enough that only Sam could hear her. “It’s been three days. What’s he doing in there?”
Sam couldn’t help but blush at that.
“I mean, why hasn’t he come out yet?”
His face just got redder.
“You know what I mean, Sam. He’s been locked in his room with that angel since he got here. Why?”
Sam sighed and glanced into the kitchen, at his parents cooking dinner together. “Dad was never really the understanding type. And I just kinda ignored it, you know? The way they looked at each other and the things Dean said. He probably thinks we’re gonna kick him out if he tells us.”
Mary stuck her head into the living room. “Dinner.”
Husband and wife sat at the table together, close enough to touch, and stared at their plates.
“He’ll come around,” Mary insisted. “He’ll figure it out.”
They all knew what it was. The fact that they wouldn’t kick him out, wouldn’t show him the happy family he’d always wanted, the steady companionship, the simple home, and then turn him away.
Back in the hallway, a door opened. Everyone stopped what they were doing, forks halfway to mouths, and stared at the doorway that led from living room to kitchen. With a deep sigh, Dean appeared. He smiled slightly, then tugged something along with him. That something was an arm attached to an angel.
Everyone at the dinner table smiled.
“I’m home,” Dean announced.
Rating: PG
Summary: In Heaven, there is peace. There is forgiveness. There is no harsh judgement, because the judgement has already been made. If only Dean knew that.
Warnings: Established character death
A/N: The second part of my Greyhound Bus ‘Verse. Or the GHB!Verse, as I’ve started calling it. Lyrics are from the Sarah Evans song Backseat of a Greyhound Bus. Title is from Daughtry’s Home.
Word Count: 676
Disclaimer: The characters and song lyrics aren’t mine. If they were, I’d be rich. Kinda.
Somewhere between Jackson and Memphis
She finally found what she had been missin’
The bed was warm and soft, and Dean was seriously entertaining the idea of staying there forever.
He didn’t remember getting off the bus, wasn’t even sure where they were. But Cas’ arms were wrapped around him, the covers were pulled up high, and he was happy. He wasn’t about to ruin his bliss with questions.
The sun had risen and set three times since he’d first found himself in the unfamiliar bed in the unfamiliar room that smelled like flowers and rain. It was cheesy, yeah, but it was also perfect.
“We should go see them,” Cas whispered against his skin. Dean wasn’t sure who they were, but the idea of leaving the room, the bed, the safety and the comfort wasn’t all that appealing to him.
“Things are different here,” the angel insisted. “They won’t judge.”
Dean finally forced his eyes open. “Who?”
“Your family. You’re scared of what they’ll think.”
“What family?” the hunter asked, voice bitter. He’d seen his mother die, had killed his father, had watched his little brother fall in the midst of the battle, beaten by a plant, of all things. “They’re dead.”
Cas looked up at him and smiled sadly. “Where do you think we are, Dean?”
He looked around the room again. It was painted light blue. The only window stood open, breeze blowing filmy curtains. Pictures of his family adorned the walls, pictures that he couldn’t remember existing. His mom and dad standing with Jess outside of a nice house. Sam and Jess getting married. Everyone but him and Cas.
“Where are we?”
“Home.”
The conversation in the bus rushed back to him suddenly, along with everything else. The demons ripping him to shreds as Sam bled out and Castiel screamed, a clean bus, his hand in the angel’s, promises of home and peace and forever.
“I’m dead.”
Lips soft against his forehead. “You did it.” Lips soft against his own. “When Gabriel fell, you picked up the charge. You turned the tide. You won the war.”
“I’m dead.”
“You’re home.”
Dean turned to him and frowned, pulling the angel closer, wrapping the warm body in his arms. “You’re still…”
Cas smiled. “I’m whatever you want me to be. You seemed to prefer Jimmy Novak.”
“Is he…?”
The smile faded. “They found his family, destroyed his house. I allowed him to be with them.”
Dean nodded. “Ok.”
The angel looked down at their intertwined fingers. “Your family will understand, Dean.”
He sighed. “I hope so.”
-.-
“I don’t understand,” Jess muttered, leaning close enough that only Sam could hear her. “It’s been three days. What’s he doing in there?”
Sam couldn’t help but blush at that.
“I mean, why hasn’t he come out yet?”
His face just got redder.
“You know what I mean, Sam. He’s been locked in his room with that angel since he got here. Why?”
Sam sighed and glanced into the kitchen, at his parents cooking dinner together. “Dad was never really the understanding type. And I just kinda ignored it, you know? The way they looked at each other and the things Dean said. He probably thinks we’re gonna kick him out if he tells us.”
Mary stuck her head into the living room. “Dinner.”
Husband and wife sat at the table together, close enough to touch, and stared at their plates.
“He’ll come around,” Mary insisted. “He’ll figure it out.”
They all knew what it was. The fact that they wouldn’t kick him out, wouldn’t show him the happy family he’d always wanted, the steady companionship, the simple home, and then turn him away.
Back in the hallway, a door opened. Everyone stopped what they were doing, forks halfway to mouths, and stared at the doorway that led from living room to kitchen. With a deep sigh, Dean appeared. He smiled slightly, then tugged something along with him. That something was an arm attached to an angel.
Everyone at the dinner table smiled.
“I’m home,” Dean announced.