Come out from the Alamo (Coda to 9x09)
Title: Come out from the Alamo
Author: Vera
Characters: Dean, Castiel, gen
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Me no own.
Word Count: 2.000
Summary: Coda to 9x09: Holy Terror, takes place a few days after
Spoilers: You need to have seen 9x09 before reading this!
Author’s Note: Written for whithertits as part of the spn_j2_xmas gift exchange, based on her prompt/like ‘being depressed at Christmas’. Fic title stolen from “Wicked Calamity Jane” by Bethany Joy Lenz.
=> AO3 <=
Dean grabbed his duffel and took one last look around. Just a short while ago, the bunker had been a home to him. It’s not like nothing evil had ever happened here - Charlie died, for fuck’s sake- but Zeke had been there to fix it again. Zeke had made everything better. Fixed his brother, fixed Charlie, gave Dean a reason to keep going. Because alone…
He took a deep breath and turned his back. Alone. That’s what he was again. Zeke wasn’t Zeke, his brother was... was… temporarily abducted by an angel. That’s what he was. Dean couldn’t even think about the other options. Had he inadvertently banished his own brother with his own spell? No. No, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. That bastard tricked him. Sam was just sleeping. And as soon as he was better, he’d come out and cast that son of a bitch out. Hell, Sam had beaten Lucifer, what was one more angel on that list?
But this place, the false safety it exuded? That’s what had to change. Two days ago he’d set a pyre for Kevin. One more death on his conscience. One more death on the bunker. And this time, no angel could turn it around. Cas had taken one look at Kevin and Dean had read it all over his face. He never should have left his guard down, never should have believed everything could finally be good for them. Sure, the angels were all around, but Sam was okay, Kevin was safely warded in the bunker, they’d beat this. Dean should have known better.
Crowley was still here, left in the dungeons. But he could rot in there for all Dean cared. He hadn’t even gone in to see him after it all went down. Crowley would have known and Dean couldn’t have taken the taunts. He wasn’t quite ready yet to accept the truth. To have another person confirm that this was all his fault. That he was bad luck. There was never any happiness for Dean Winchester. Not in this lifetime and certainly not wherever he went after he finally died. Heaven, hell. Different sides of the same torture coin. And purgatory was closed to him. He was human. If option C existed, he’d have blown his brains out long ago.
He briefly considered lighting the bunker on fire to go out with a real bang, but Dean knew that when his brother was back, he’d scold him for destroying all this knowledge. And Sam would be back and then they’d return and while it would never again be home for Dean, maybe it could be for Sam. And that would be enough for Dean as well.
So instead he just climbed up the stairs, opened the door… and came face to face with a distraught looking Castiel clutching a wrapped present in his hand and fumbling for his phone with the other.
“Oh,” Castiel startled when he saw Dean. “Never mind then.” He slipped the phone back in his pocket. “I was looking for a doorbell when…”
”Cas?” Dean interrupted him.
“Yes.” Castiel stilled and cocked his head.
“I… what…why…?” And then he broke. Dean had pretty much kept it together up until that point, but seeing Cas after so many days of solitude, with only his sins to haunt him? His final and maybe most gruesome failure. If he hadn’t send Cas away, if only he’d listened to his gut and not false!Zeke. Maybe then Kevin would still be alive and Sam would still be around as well.
Dean didn’t cry, he just suddenly shook all over, his ears clogging up so all he could hear was his own blood rushing frantically and as his vision swam, his knees buckled and Castiel was there to hold him up.
“Dean,” he said. “I know.” His arms were wrapped firmly around him. “I know.” Dean’s duffel dropped and he wrapped his arms limply around Castiel. “I heard you,” Castiel whispered in his neck and Dean didn’t think it was meant for him to be understood, but Castiel’s voice pierced through the noise in his head and the fog cleared up and when Dean was finally able to catch a breath again, he noticed that his cheeks were wet. As was Castiel’s jacket.
“I’m sorry,” Dean said, disentangling himself. And he didn’t just mean the jacket.
“It’s okay,” Castiel replied. “I understand.” There was hurt swinging with his voice and Dean knew he didn’t just talk about the jacket either. “Where are we going?” Castiel asked.
“Anywhere but here.” Dean was tempted to ask Cas if he had a lead on his brother, but he knew that if he did, he’d have said so already.
Castiel nodded and bent to pick up the strange package. Dean grabbed his duffel and they headed to the Impala wordlessly, Castiel settling down in the passenger seat. Where Sam would be cramped up, Castiel fit comfortable. And that somehow felt wrong. There should be a cramped up, complaining gigantor sitting next to him, not an angel with blue eyes staring at him in understanding, waiting for him to talk first.
It took him three towns and a gas station until Dean finally got it. It was Christmas Day and that was probably why Castiel kept clutching at that present of his. Dean eyed it properly for the first time. It was wrapped with care in colourful ornament paper, no bows or ribbons to adorn it. It was wrapped perfectly. He felt a pang, remembering exchanging hastily paper-wrapped Christmas gifts with his brother. “I didn’t get you anything.”
“I know.” Castiel said and there was a small smile playing his lips. “You can make it up to me on my birthday.”
Dean almost swerved the car. “You have a birthday?”
”Don’t be ridiculous, Dean.” Castiel left him hanging for a minute or two before he continued. “Of course not. Although one could have argued that the day my grace was stolen would be something of a birthday. But I didn’t stay human long enough to celebrate.”
“Do you miss it?” Dean asked.
Castiel looked at him, then away. “I can’t fight this war being human. I was of no help to you either.”
Dean wanted to protest, but he couldn’t. Maybe if Castiel had done his little trick and gotten his damn grace back earlier, then Sam would still be around and Kevin would still be alive. Why had he waited so long anyway, if he could have just taken any angel’s random grace? Sure, Cas had told him there’d be consequences, but so what? The consequences to having been human were far graver.
And maybe Dean was being an ungrateful ass, but whatever he could do to share the blame. Castiel could take it. Dean on the other hand wasn’t so sure how much longer he could keep carrying his burdens alone. His fingers itched for the flask in his jacket. He’d had his last drink at least an hour ago. It was starting to wear off and that was unacceptable.
“There seems to be a suitable motel just off on the next exit,” Castiel remarked
Dean glanced at the sign. “Rest Easy Motel”. No specials or extras proclaimed. He shrugged. Good as any.
They stopped and Dean got them a room, two queens like usual, even if he didn’t know how long Cas would stay and if he even still required sleep now. He’d hoped a little normalcy would feel good, but instead he was feeling that pang of wrongness again. He was here with Castiel while his brother was out there, getting mind raped by an angel.
There was a decorated Christmas tree in the corner on his way out, and Dean balled up a brochure to throw down the angel on top. The ornament fell with a clatter and Dean stepped on it to finish the job. The crunching noise made him feel better.
He went to join Cas who’d been waiting for him outside by the car and upon entering their room, Dean’s face actually lit up. “Hey, I know what I can get you for Christmas!” He fished in his wallet for coins and threw one at Castiel.
“Small currency? I do not understand.” Castiel looked at the dime in his hand doubtfully.
“Dude, it’s for the bed.” Dean pointed at the cash slot and hopped down on his, feeding the slot and closing his eyes. He let out a deep sigh when his bed started vibrating and got satisfied when about a minute later, he could hear Castiel’s bed vibrating as well.
“While I do not have sore limbs anymore, I can appreciate the gesture.” Castiel mumbled. “Thank you, Dean.”
”Shush,” Dean growled. “Don’t ruin it.”
For the next fifteen minutes, all he could hear was the vibrations of the bed - and Castiel moving around restlessly. But Sam would be equally as annoying, so the noise actually kind of made Dean happy.
When it stopped, he slowly sat up and found Castiel already upright and staring at him. He was still clutching his present and now held it out unceremoniously.
Dean couldn’t help a smile as he accepted and opened it. It was a hunting knife. Similar to the one Sam used, Ruby’s spelled demon slaying edition. He looked up hopefully. “Does it kill…?”
”Anything allergic to silver,” Castiel finished for him. “Nothing more. I’m sorry, Dean.”
”Don’t be,” Dean weighted it in his hand. As gifts went, this was pretty damn near perfect. And that sucked. He was overcome by guilt again. “Thanks, Cas.”
“I bought it with my own pay check,” Castiel explained proudly.
And that just made it worse. Dean cringed. “Do you still have your job at the Gas-N-Sip?”
“I don’t require nourishment anymore.” Castiel looked out the window.
“So no?” Dean prodded.
“It would be imprudent of me. Besides, I have a job. I’ll find a way to open heaven and bring peace for my brother and sisters again.” Castiel looked determined.
Dean made a noise somewhere between a snort and a growl. “Maybe we should think about killing them, once and for all.”
“The angels? You want to kill the angels?” Castiel had gone still.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but your brothers and sisters? They’re all dicks. And they can all go to hell for all I care.” Dean’s hand clenched around the knife. There really was no difference between demons and angels. None of them should be walking the earth.
“But that’s not what happens, Dean. We vanish out of existence.”
“Well good riddance.” Dean glared at him.
“Dean.” Dean was surprised to find a look full of anger on Castiel’s face. It was soon replaced by disappointment before it smoothed back into Castiel’s usual non-committal blank stare. “I should leave you alone. If I hear about Sam, I will let you know.”
”Yeah, okay.” Dean slumped back down on the bed, closing his eyes. ‘Stay,’ he wanted to say. ‘I’m sorry,’ he should beg. ‘I didn’t mean all angels.’ But that would be a lie. At this point, he meant it. All of them. The whole damn lot has brought him nothing but pain and misery. And it’s caused him to inflict more pain and misery unto others. Maybe he should have stayed in hell. At least the souls he tortured there had deserved it. But Kevin? Sam? Benny, Frank and Bobby and countless others. They all had suffered because of him.
When he was certain Castiel had disappeared, he got out his flask and took a gratuitous sip. Then he fed the slot again and closed his eyes, letting the vibrations lull him into a short, but blissfully dreamless slumber, his right hand still clutching his new knife tightly.
Tomorrow he’d get up and start hunting them down. One of them had to know where his brother was. And if anyone knew ways to get people to talk, it was Dean Winchester. And if they wouldn’t talk? There were plenty of other angels around these days and Dean also knew how to kill them.
Author: Vera
Characters: Dean, Castiel, gen
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Me no own.
Word Count: 2.000
Summary: Coda to 9x09: Holy Terror, takes place a few days after
Spoilers: You need to have seen 9x09 before reading this!
Author’s Note: Written for whithertits as part of the spn_j2_xmas gift exchange, based on her prompt/like ‘being depressed at Christmas’. Fic title stolen from “Wicked Calamity Jane” by Bethany Joy Lenz.
=> AO3 <=
Dean grabbed his duffel and took one last look around. Just a short while ago, the bunker had been a home to him. It’s not like nothing evil had ever happened here - Charlie died, for fuck’s sake- but Zeke had been there to fix it again. Zeke had made everything better. Fixed his brother, fixed Charlie, gave Dean a reason to keep going. Because alone…
He took a deep breath and turned his back. Alone. That’s what he was again. Zeke wasn’t Zeke, his brother was... was… temporarily abducted by an angel. That’s what he was. Dean couldn’t even think about the other options. Had he inadvertently banished his own brother with his own spell? No. No, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. That bastard tricked him. Sam was just sleeping. And as soon as he was better, he’d come out and cast that son of a bitch out. Hell, Sam had beaten Lucifer, what was one more angel on that list?
But this place, the false safety it exuded? That’s what had to change. Two days ago he’d set a pyre for Kevin. One more death on his conscience. One more death on the bunker. And this time, no angel could turn it around. Cas had taken one look at Kevin and Dean had read it all over his face. He never should have left his guard down, never should have believed everything could finally be good for them. Sure, the angels were all around, but Sam was okay, Kevin was safely warded in the bunker, they’d beat this. Dean should have known better.
Crowley was still here, left in the dungeons. But he could rot in there for all Dean cared. He hadn’t even gone in to see him after it all went down. Crowley would have known and Dean couldn’t have taken the taunts. He wasn’t quite ready yet to accept the truth. To have another person confirm that this was all his fault. That he was bad luck. There was never any happiness for Dean Winchester. Not in this lifetime and certainly not wherever he went after he finally died. Heaven, hell. Different sides of the same torture coin. And purgatory was closed to him. He was human. If option C existed, he’d have blown his brains out long ago.
He briefly considered lighting the bunker on fire to go out with a real bang, but Dean knew that when his brother was back, he’d scold him for destroying all this knowledge. And Sam would be back and then they’d return and while it would never again be home for Dean, maybe it could be for Sam. And that would be enough for Dean as well.
So instead he just climbed up the stairs, opened the door… and came face to face with a distraught looking Castiel clutching a wrapped present in his hand and fumbling for his phone with the other.
“Oh,” Castiel startled when he saw Dean. “Never mind then.” He slipped the phone back in his pocket. “I was looking for a doorbell when…”
”Cas?” Dean interrupted him.
“Yes.” Castiel stilled and cocked his head.
“I… what…why…?” And then he broke. Dean had pretty much kept it together up until that point, but seeing Cas after so many days of solitude, with only his sins to haunt him? His final and maybe most gruesome failure. If he hadn’t send Cas away, if only he’d listened to his gut and not false!Zeke. Maybe then Kevin would still be alive and Sam would still be around as well.
Dean didn’t cry, he just suddenly shook all over, his ears clogging up so all he could hear was his own blood rushing frantically and as his vision swam, his knees buckled and Castiel was there to hold him up.
“Dean,” he said. “I know.” His arms were wrapped firmly around him. “I know.” Dean’s duffel dropped and he wrapped his arms limply around Castiel. “I heard you,” Castiel whispered in his neck and Dean didn’t think it was meant for him to be understood, but Castiel’s voice pierced through the noise in his head and the fog cleared up and when Dean was finally able to catch a breath again, he noticed that his cheeks were wet. As was Castiel’s jacket.
“I’m sorry,” Dean said, disentangling himself. And he didn’t just mean the jacket.
“It’s okay,” Castiel replied. “I understand.” There was hurt swinging with his voice and Dean knew he didn’t just talk about the jacket either. “Where are we going?” Castiel asked.
“Anywhere but here.” Dean was tempted to ask Cas if he had a lead on his brother, but he knew that if he did, he’d have said so already.
Castiel nodded and bent to pick up the strange package. Dean grabbed his duffel and they headed to the Impala wordlessly, Castiel settling down in the passenger seat. Where Sam would be cramped up, Castiel fit comfortable. And that somehow felt wrong. There should be a cramped up, complaining gigantor sitting next to him, not an angel with blue eyes staring at him in understanding, waiting for him to talk first.
It took him three towns and a gas station until Dean finally got it. It was Christmas Day and that was probably why Castiel kept clutching at that present of his. Dean eyed it properly for the first time. It was wrapped with care in colourful ornament paper, no bows or ribbons to adorn it. It was wrapped perfectly. He felt a pang, remembering exchanging hastily paper-wrapped Christmas gifts with his brother. “I didn’t get you anything.”
“I know.” Castiel said and there was a small smile playing his lips. “You can make it up to me on my birthday.”
Dean almost swerved the car. “You have a birthday?”
”Don’t be ridiculous, Dean.” Castiel left him hanging for a minute or two before he continued. “Of course not. Although one could have argued that the day my grace was stolen would be something of a birthday. But I didn’t stay human long enough to celebrate.”
“Do you miss it?” Dean asked.
Castiel looked at him, then away. “I can’t fight this war being human. I was of no help to you either.”
Dean wanted to protest, but he couldn’t. Maybe if Castiel had done his little trick and gotten his damn grace back earlier, then Sam would still be around and Kevin would still be alive. Why had he waited so long anyway, if he could have just taken any angel’s random grace? Sure, Cas had told him there’d be consequences, but so what? The consequences to having been human were far graver.
And maybe Dean was being an ungrateful ass, but whatever he could do to share the blame. Castiel could take it. Dean on the other hand wasn’t so sure how much longer he could keep carrying his burdens alone. His fingers itched for the flask in his jacket. He’d had his last drink at least an hour ago. It was starting to wear off and that was unacceptable.
“There seems to be a suitable motel just off on the next exit,” Castiel remarked
Dean glanced at the sign. “Rest Easy Motel”. No specials or extras proclaimed. He shrugged. Good as any.
They stopped and Dean got them a room, two queens like usual, even if he didn’t know how long Cas would stay and if he even still required sleep now. He’d hoped a little normalcy would feel good, but instead he was feeling that pang of wrongness again. He was here with Castiel while his brother was out there, getting mind raped by an angel.
There was a decorated Christmas tree in the corner on his way out, and Dean balled up a brochure to throw down the angel on top. The ornament fell with a clatter and Dean stepped on it to finish the job. The crunching noise made him feel better.
He went to join Cas who’d been waiting for him outside by the car and upon entering their room, Dean’s face actually lit up. “Hey, I know what I can get you for Christmas!” He fished in his wallet for coins and threw one at Castiel.
“Small currency? I do not understand.” Castiel looked at the dime in his hand doubtfully.
“Dude, it’s for the bed.” Dean pointed at the cash slot and hopped down on his, feeding the slot and closing his eyes. He let out a deep sigh when his bed started vibrating and got satisfied when about a minute later, he could hear Castiel’s bed vibrating as well.
“While I do not have sore limbs anymore, I can appreciate the gesture.” Castiel mumbled. “Thank you, Dean.”
”Shush,” Dean growled. “Don’t ruin it.”
For the next fifteen minutes, all he could hear was the vibrations of the bed - and Castiel moving around restlessly. But Sam would be equally as annoying, so the noise actually kind of made Dean happy.
When it stopped, he slowly sat up and found Castiel already upright and staring at him. He was still clutching his present and now held it out unceremoniously.
Dean couldn’t help a smile as he accepted and opened it. It was a hunting knife. Similar to the one Sam used, Ruby’s spelled demon slaying edition. He looked up hopefully. “Does it kill…?”
”Anything allergic to silver,” Castiel finished for him. “Nothing more. I’m sorry, Dean.”
”Don’t be,” Dean weighted it in his hand. As gifts went, this was pretty damn near perfect. And that sucked. He was overcome by guilt again. “Thanks, Cas.”
“I bought it with my own pay check,” Castiel explained proudly.
And that just made it worse. Dean cringed. “Do you still have your job at the Gas-N-Sip?”
“I don’t require nourishment anymore.” Castiel looked out the window.
“So no?” Dean prodded.
“It would be imprudent of me. Besides, I have a job. I’ll find a way to open heaven and bring peace for my brother and sisters again.” Castiel looked determined.
Dean made a noise somewhere between a snort and a growl. “Maybe we should think about killing them, once and for all.”
“The angels? You want to kill the angels?” Castiel had gone still.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but your brothers and sisters? They’re all dicks. And they can all go to hell for all I care.” Dean’s hand clenched around the knife. There really was no difference between demons and angels. None of them should be walking the earth.
“But that’s not what happens, Dean. We vanish out of existence.”
“Well good riddance.” Dean glared at him.
“Dean.” Dean was surprised to find a look full of anger on Castiel’s face. It was soon replaced by disappointment before it smoothed back into Castiel’s usual non-committal blank stare. “I should leave you alone. If I hear about Sam, I will let you know.”
”Yeah, okay.” Dean slumped back down on the bed, closing his eyes. ‘Stay,’ he wanted to say. ‘I’m sorry,’ he should beg. ‘I didn’t mean all angels.’ But that would be a lie. At this point, he meant it. All of them. The whole damn lot has brought him nothing but pain and misery. And it’s caused him to inflict more pain and misery unto others. Maybe he should have stayed in hell. At least the souls he tortured there had deserved it. But Kevin? Sam? Benny, Frank and Bobby and countless others. They all had suffered because of him.
When he was certain Castiel had disappeared, he got out his flask and took a gratuitous sip. Then he fed the slot again and closed his eyes, letting the vibrations lull him into a short, but blissfully dreamless slumber, his right hand still clutching his new knife tightly.
Tomorrow he’d get up and start hunting them down. One of them had to know where his brother was. And if anyone knew ways to get people to talk, it was Dean Winchester. And if they wouldn’t talk? There were plenty of other angels around these days and Dean also knew how to kill them.