Title: Crossing the Sea (Part I)
Author:
thegrrrl2002Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Word Count: 20,828
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Through the end of S5
Artist:
no_eightArt Link:
Art Post Summary: The apocalypse is over, and Dean has Sam back, safe and sound. All should be well with his world, but Dean's still coping with the emotional fallout and feeling more than a little off-balance, Meanwhile, Sam is convinced there's a monster living in Lake Superior but they can't seem to find it, although there's plenty of good pie and fishing trips to be had. Plus there's Castiel, who pops back into Dean's life, and gets way into Dean's personal space. He's dealing with his own issues -- being the new sheriff of heaven isn't turning out quite the way he thought it would.
Notes: A great big thank you to
eretria and
mmmchelle for the beta and thoughtful suggestions.
Download pdf file of entire fic ***
"Dude, stop it," Sam insists.
"Stop what?" Dean takes another pull at his beer, his eyes never leaving Sam.
"You know what. The staring." Sam leans back on the windshield. "You're creeping me out." But he's smiling as he says it.
Dean snorts. "You know what? You're creeping me out."
"Asshole." Sam's grin widens.
"Creep." With effort, Dean pulls his gaze from Sam, leans back and gazes out over the lake. The sun is setting, streaking the sky with red and pink. He drinks more beer, then steals another glance at Sam, who is right there beside him and even though it's been a while, he can still remember how it felt to think that Sam was gone forever.
"Freak," Sam says with affection in his voice.
Dean grunts and turns back to the wide expanse of Lake Superior, watching the wind kick waves up against the distant rocks. "Sam, this lake is huge," he finally says. "It's like a freaking ocean."
"Yup." Sam nods in agreement. "Largest freshwater lake in the world."
"And you really think something nasty is living out there?"
"Yup. From what I could gather, it could be a Hydra. Or a Leviathan," says Sam. "It's worth checking out."
"And you're sure it's a supernatural being, not just your ordinary, run of the mill..." Dean trails off and frowns. "Lake monster?" He has no idea what the hell to call it.
"If it was a real living, breathing aquatic mammal or reptile," Sam counters, "wouldn't the biologists have identified it by now?"
"Maybe they just haven't found it yet. It is, after all, the largest freshwater lake in the world." Dean points his beer at Sam. "Think about it."
"No," Sam insists. "There's something out there."
"Hey, maybe it's a mermaid." Dean grins. "I'd like to see one of those."
Sam rolls his eyes.
"Come on, they're hot. Admit it."
"Dean, it's not a mermaid."
"Yeah," Dean says, reconsidering. "With our luck, it would turn out to be a merman."
Sam nods. "My money's on a Hydra. With all seven heads."
"Right," Dean scoffs. "What would a Hydra be doing out here?"
"Wrecking ships," Sam says. "Lot of boats sinking this season."
"We could be out there hunting genuine monsters, you know. Wendingos. Vampires. Shape shifters. Instead we're out here wasting our time," Dean waves a hand at the water, "Sightseeing."
"We're not sightseeing, we're hunting," Sam tells him.
"We're driving around looking at the water, that's not hunting." Dean takes another drink of his beer, about to point out that hunting usually involves, well, actual hunting with guns and knifes and shit, when there's a rustling in the bushes off the side of the road. He sits up sharply, hand going to the hilt of his knife as he examines the area.
The noise stops, and a raccoon ambles out of the bushes, making its way through the tall grass.
Dean sits back against the windshield, slowly letting his breath out, forcing himself to relax.
Sam watches the raccoon, then catches Dean's eye. "You okay, Dean?"
"I'm fine," Dean says, rolling his eyes.
"Good." Sam nods. "So am I."
"Glad that's settled." Dean takes another drink of his beer. "Hey, why did the raccoon cross the road?"
"In order to freak you out?"
"Shut up," Dean says. "But it could have been rabid, you know. Can't be too careful about those things." He finishes his beer and sighs, closing his eyes. Rabid raccoon or not, he's tired, it's been a long drive and the beer is making him sleepy. The rhythmic sound of the water hitting the shore soon lulls him into sleep.
And he's back in Stull cemetery, again, alone, completely and utterly alone. There's blood dripping from his face and more blood splattered on the ground along with Bobby's broken body and the rings, glinting in the sun. The silence is deafening. He's lost everyone, everything that's ever mattered to him and he just stays on his knees, he can't get up, he can't go on, he wants to sink into the graveyard with the rest of the bodies and simply stop being.
The shadow passes over him and when he looks up, it's Cas, standing above him, calm and serene and Cas isn't god, he's simply Cas. Before Dean can say anything, Cas presses two fingers to his forehead and the pain stops.
Then Cas kneels in front of him, takes Dean's face in both hands, and kisses him.
Dean wakes with a start. "What the hell?" His beer bottle tumbles down the hood of the car to land in the grass with a soft thump. Dean rubs his face, confused. He's dreamed of Stull many times, but the kiss--that was something new.
"Hey, Dean, it's okay," Sam says quietly. He reaches out and pats Dean's shoulder.
"Yeah, yeah." Dean shrugs off Sam's touch.
"Bad dream?"
"Yeah. I mean, no--" Dean stops himself. "Cas was there. It was just kind of weird."
"Real Cas?" Sam asks eagerly.
"No," Dean insists. "At least, I don't think so."
Cas is busy, taking care of important angel business in heaven. No reason for him to be lurking around in Dean's dreams. Kissing him. "No way," Dean says aloud, scrubbing a hand over his hair. "Just a dream."
"I wonder how Cas is doing."
"Swaggering around up there in heaven, I'm sure," Dean says. "Keeping all those asshole angels in line."
"Now there's a job." Sam stretches, arms up over his head, beer bottle safely tucked between his legs. He looks up at the sky. "Wonder if he's watching us at all. I kind of miss him."
"That makes one of us." Dean snorts. "I'm sure he has his hands full in heaven. No reason for him to come down here."
Sam is giving him an odd look so Dean slides off the car and helps himself to another beer. Part of him thinks that one day, even though it's been months, he's going to hear that soft flutter and turn around and Cas will be there, staring at him with that stupid stare. He can't quite accept that Cas is out of his life, forever.
***
"Tell me, Mrs. Nielson," Sam says, flipping open his pad, "did you see anything in the water before the boat went down?"
She shakes her head. "No, I mean, I thought I did, but--" Sighing, she folds her arms across her chest. "Are you sure my name isn't going to be mentioned?"
Dean smiles his most ingratiating smile and leans against the porch railing, projecting trustworthiness with all his might. "Ma'am, I promise, you will simply be an unidentified source."
Mrs. Nielson frowns at him, and it's only when Sam nods encouragingly that she relents. "Okay. Now people are saying that it was the beer, but honest, we didn't drink that much." She hesitates again.
"I understand." Dean wonders how long it was going to take to pull the story out of her. "A couple of beers over the course of a day, that's not much."
"And you saw what you saw," Sam chimes in earnestly. "Right?"
"Well, first, something hit the boat. Like, almost shoved it over." She run a hand through stringy bleached blond hair and lights a cigarette off of the butt of the previous one. Her skin has the sallow look of a serious drinker and her hands are shaking. "Then I looked down, and it was big. And like a snake. And it came up out of the water--" She stops again, eyeing them both. "You're not going to believe this part."
"Try us," Sam says.
"It had two heads. Maybe three. And they hissed like a cat. All the heads, they did."
Sam scribbles down some notes. "Hmm. Very interesting. Now, Mrs. Nielson, can you tell us anything about the shape of the heads?"
"I don't know, it was getting dark, I couldn't see too well. They were like, maybe," she says thoughtfully, "a little like a crocodile, but not so long--shorter snout. But the teeth, there were lots of teeth."
"Then what happened," Dean asks. A drunken sighting, in the dark. This didn't sound very legit.
"Then the boat was going down so we radioed for help and got the raft out and made it to shore. We were all fine, just a bit shook up."
Sam nods again. "All right. Thank you for your time, ma'am. This has been very helpful."
Standing behind her, Dean rolls his eyes at Sam. "Yes, thank you, I think we have everything we need to know."
As they trotted down the porch steps past the rambling rose bushes, Dean whispers, "Really, Sam? You believe this lady?"
"Dean," Sam pauses as he opens the car door. "It's all the evidence taken together--three boats go down in the course of a month, they all mention seeing something--"
Dean leans over the roof of the car. "And the sightings have nothing in common, except for maybe the cases of beer on deck."
"The heads," Sam says. "Everyone seems to think there's more than one head. I still think it's worth a closer look."
"Okay, okay," Dean says. He's dubious, but Sam does have a point. And maybe good instincts, too. "Let's find a place to stay, and see what we can find out."
***
Dean stares at the coffeemaker as it gurgles and hisses, waiting patiently for the pot to fill. A clean, comfortable motel room on a warm spring morning, sunlight streaming through the windows. Sam sits cross-legged on the bed, laptop balanced between his knees and Dean is content to hang out for a while and watch the coffee brew.
"Well, like I said, it's the largest freshwater lake in the world, if you go by surface area. Third largest by volume," Sam announces.
"Thank you, Mr. Wikipedia," Dean says. "Any other titillating facts?"
"The numbers of sightings increase after particularly stormy winters--1913, 1928, 1946." Sam types, keys clicking on the keyboard. "Some of them refer to it as Mishipishu, an powerful creature from Ojibwe mythology." He turns his laptop around to show Dean the image of a large cat with a bumpy spine and huge jaws.
Dean raises his eyebrows. "A big cat, paddling around in a lake? I'm not exactly buying that."
Sam laughs. "We're not talking about a house cat here. It's said to be up to 20 feet long. Thing is, though, this past winter wasn't particularly bad--no huge storms churning things up."
"Your theories aren't really holding together, are they?" Dean asks, unwrapping the styrofoam coffee cups. An in-room coffeemaker, with little packs of coffee and cups and sugar and creamer. Classy place. "Do we have anything solid to go on?"
"The sinkings."
"Drunken sport fishermen hitting a rock," Dean tells him.
"There's two more sightings reported in a travel forum," Sam points out. "One from a week ago, the other from last month, before the sinkings."
"Because we believe everything we read on the internet. Where is this creature now?"
"The deepest part of the lake is 1,300 feet," Sam says. "That's deep enough to hide something big, don't you think?"
"Could almost hide you in there, Sammy."
Sam makes a face at him. "And the lake is relatively young, formed 10,000 years ago, during the last retreat of the glaciers on the continent."
"So it's just a baby lake, then?"
"Which means it's the same age as Loch Ness. That might mean something," Sam says. "And it's deeper. So are you thinking it's not supernatural? That we have our own version of Nessie?"
"That's what I've been--" Dean stops when he hears a soft rustling behind him. It's a familiar sound. He turns to find Cas in the middle of their motel room, looking the same as ever in all his trenchcoated nerd angel glory.
The sight of him brings it all back in a rush, the desperation and fear and helpless anger and for a moment it feels like it's not really over at all.
“Hey, Cas,” Sam says with surprise. "Good to see you."
“Hello Sam,” Cas says with a nod. “Dean.”
Dean finds his voice. “Long time no see. Figured you forgot all about us.”
“I could never forget you, Dean,” Cas says. “Or you, Sam.”
There’s a warmth in Cas’s tone that makes Dean take a deep breath as he turns and fumbles for the coffee cups. His hand shakes as he pours the coffee and he has to remind himself that it's over and done with. No more end times.
“Hey, ass-butt, remember that time you holy-firebombed Michael? Good times, huh?” Dean glances over his shoulder at Cas.
"That's not what I would call 'a good time'," Cas says with a puzzled frown.
Dean's missed that look. More than he realized. "Yeah, and then you left, without saying goodbye? That was fun, too." It comes out sounding a lot pissier than Dean intended. He turns back to the cups and wonders what the hell is wrong with him.
“Uh, so, what's up?" Sam asks after an awkward silence. "What took you so long to come visit?”
“I have been...” Cas's expression grows pained, "busy."
Sam unfolds his legs and rises up from the bed. “Got your hands full, huh?”
“Seriously, how goes things in heaven?" Dean asks, worried that something is starting up again. Something not very good at all. "Are you kickin’ ass and taking names?”
“Not exactly.” Cas sighs. “It’s been more difficult than I envisioned.”
“If you need any help, just let us know.” Dean says. “Be happy to come up there and smack a few angels around.” The thought of it pleases him. Angel-smacking sounds like a good time.
Sam nods his head in agreement. “Just say the word.”
“The offer is appreciated.” Cas sounds weary, which really isn't anything new but it's obvious he's disturbed by something and fear coils deep in Dean's gut because man, he is so done with angels and their shit.
“Cas, what’s going on?”
“The angels. With god still out of the picture, and most of the archangels gone,” Cas says with a furrowed brow, “things have changed greatly."
“Get to the point, man. What kind of changes?” Dean asks.
“There is a strong push for," Cas hesitates and takes a deep breath before continuing. "A representational government.”
“What?” Dean blinks. Then bursts out laughing. Sam joins him.
“This isn’t funny, Dean.” Cas scowls at him. “I’m on a committee."
Giddy with relief, Dean laughs even harder, spilling his coffee. "Honestly Cas? It is funny. It's fucking hilarious." He puts the coffee down and wipes his hands on his jeans.
"I chose to come back to earth to gather information on forms of earth government," Cas says. "It's better than listening to them all argue, over and over, the legitimacy of such a government. Half the angels adamantly believe a human-style government is beneath them.”
"Figures." Dean hands a cup of coffee to Sam.
"So, when are the elections? Are you running for office?" Sam asks cheerily as he pours a packet of sugar into the cup. "Need a campaign manager?"
"Vote for Cas, or he'll kick your ass," Dean offers. Sam grins at him.
"Elections won't be for another millennium, at least." Cas rolls his eyes. The move looks very familiar and Dean is sure he's seen it before. Like maybe in a mirror. "If we get that far. And no, I have no intention of participating in any sort of election."
"But I bet the debates would be awesome," Dean says. "Would smiting be allowed?"
Cas gives Dean a look.
"Hey, it would make it a hell of a lot more exciting," Dean tells him.
"More excitement than I need." Cas looks thoughtful though, as if considering it. "Bobby said you two were up here on a hunt?"
"We think maybe there's a Hydra occupying the lake, causing trouble among the boaters," Sam says. "Or a Mishipishu. Know anything about it?"
Cas shakes his head. "I'm not familiar with either."
"You know, with all the heads people keep seeing, I'm thinking it's not Mishipishu," Dean muses. "Especially since the heads are all described as being like a crocodile."
Sam smiles happily, as if glad Dean is on board with the hunt and Dean feels a little guilty for giving him a hard time--Sam more than deserves a some leeway at this point. If his brother wants to wander around a giant lake and see what's in there, then Dean should certainly be willing to let him do so.
"We still have to narrow it down," Sam explains to Cas. "Maybe you can help--come to breakfast with us," he suggests, finishing his coffee."Give me five minutes." He heads for the bathroom.
As the bathroom door closes, Cas approaches Dean and stands close. "Dean," he says softly.
His conspiratorial tone makes Dean lean closer. "Yeah, Cas?"
"How is Sam? Does he remember anything?"
"You mean, from Lucifer wearing him down into the cage? I don't know." Dean shakes his head. "He says he doesn't remember it. I don't know if I believe him."
Cas's expression turns thoughtful. "Perhaps when God returned him, he showed mercy by wiping memories Sam could not live with."
"Assuming it was God. And don't give me that mercy crap." Dean points a finger at Cas. "Even though I got Sam back, and the earth is saved, God is still a dick and I'd be happy to tell that to his face."
Cas's soft laughter is unexpected. "I have missed you, Dean."
"Seriously?"
"Your strength of conviction," Cas continues. "There is no one quite like you in heaven. The angels, they are uncertain as to how to proceed. They are not accustomed to free will. Given choice, they…form committees."
"Give them time. It wasn't easy for you at first, was it?" Dean asks.
"I suppose you're correct," Cas says. "I have learned much from you, Dean."
"Hey, well." Dean puts his coffee cup down. His cheeks are warm and he's very aware of Cas watching him and this, this is not at all what he expected from Cas, the new and improved angel of the lord. "Stick with me, and you'll go far."
"I shall, indeed." Cas looks amused. Then he leans even closer--too close--and looks intently at Dean's face. As if he's gazing straight into Dean's soul.
As always, it makes Dean uneasy. "What?"
"How are you, Dean?" It's not a casual question.
Dean shrugs, irritated. "I don't know."
Cas cocks his head one side, eyes still on Dean.
"Honest, I don't know. I'm not used to the complete lack of doom and gloom in my life. I don't trust it." Because Dean knows better. In his experience, doom and gloom always hovers just out of sight, waiting to pounce.
Cas nods, yet says nothing.
"What are you, my therapist now?" Dean steps back. "I'm fine, damn it. What's with the all the questions?"
"You are very important to me, Dean," Cas says gently.
"Yeah? Well," Dean waves his hands, then shoves them into his pockets. He feels like an idiot. "Thanks."
Cas looks pleased, and Dean has no idea what else to say so he bangs on the bathroom door. "Come on, Sammy, I'm starving," he yells. "Stop fixing your hair. I need me some breakfast."
When he turns back around, Cas is still there. "What? Don't you have important business to take of? Research of some kind?"
"There is no hurry. I'm sure they," Cas lifts his eyes to the ceiling, "haven't stopped talking long enough to realize I'm gone."
Sam finally finishes primping in the bathroom, and Cas joins them for breakfast, even though he doesn't eat. He simply watches them devour bacon and eggs and pancakes, coffee cup in his hand. Dean insisted on it, would just be too weird if Cas didn't at least pretend to fit in.
When Cas leaves, he actually takes a moment to say goodbye to Dean, pointedly.
"Coming back anytime soon?" Dean asks. Not that he particularly cares.
"I must prepare my report." Cas says, grim and determined, as if he's going face to face with Lucifer himself. "But yes, I will return within a day or two at the most."
Dean's not sure he believes him.
***
"Wow. Pretty awesome, huh?" Sam leans over the railing and gazes up at the rocks. The wind is whipping his hair about and he's grinning like he's twelve years old.
"Not bad," Dean agrees. Actually, it is pretty amazing. Cliffs soaring hundreds of feet in the air, rocks streaked with red, blues and greens, as if someone had tossed buckets of paint on them.
The sun is shining bright, the air smells fresh and clean as the boat cuts through the water. It's a fairly large tour boat and they were moving at a good clip as they approached the cliffs, but now the engine powers down and the captain begins narrating, pointing out various sites of interest. Dean tunes him out and just looks, taking it all in, forgetting that he's supposed to be looking for caves and simply enjoying the scenery. After two days of tracking down and talking with questionable witnesses, it's nice to simply hang out for a while.
Two little boys go running past, followed by two tired-looking parents calling out to them. Dean steps aside to let them pass, smiling politely. Then pulls on his sunglasses and unzips his jacket as the sun heats the deck.
As soon as they are alone, Sam nudges Dean with an elbow, "Those caves, over there, think they're big enough?"
Dean shakes his head. "Kind of narrow, you think?"
"Yeah, maybe." Sam points to another rock face. "Up ahead, though, that's where the kayaker said he saw something."
"Right. The guy who also said he likes to hang out smoking weed and looking for UFOs over the lake." Dean shakes his head. "And who in their right mind rides around out here on a kayak, anyway? That's a whole lot of lake and one little tiny boat."
"Dude," Sam turns to him. "And I just signed us up for the kayaking tour."
"Shut up, you did not."
Sam laughs, leaning back against the rail. The boat pitches just enough to make him sway, and all at once Dean sees it--Sam/Lucifer falling backwards into the trap, down into the hell, because Dean loved him enough to let him go, because Sam was strong enough to take Lucifer down.
"Dean--"
Dean closes his eyes and shakes his head. He can't breathe, his chest is too tight. Disoriented, he stumbles and he's all alone, kneeling in the grass and he wants to leap in after Sam and drag him out again.
"Dean, hey man--"
Dean takes a deep shuddering breath and opens his eyes.
A boat. He's on a boat, in the sunshine, with Sammy at his side. Who is holding onto his arm, guiding him into a bench, forehead creased with worry. "Dean, you all right?"
Dean nods. "Fine, dude, I'm fine," he says, but his voice breaks.
"What happened?" Sam asks as he sits beside Dean, never relinquishing his hold on Dean's arm.
"I just--" Dean takes a breath, and another, and finally his heart slows down. "It was just like in Stull again, with you falling." He knows he's not making any sense.
But Sam simply nods.
It's a relief that Sam gets it. Dean is thankful for the sunglasses, his eyes are wet and he still feels shaky.
"I dream about it," Sam continues, staring out at the cliffs. "I dream that I'm Lucifer and I'm standing in the field and it's all burned out and smoking and black and I'm--I'm reveling in it. I've destroyed the world and it feels like victory." He turns to Dean. "How fucked up is that?"
"Pretty fucked up," Dean agrees.
"Yeah." Sam leans back, and they sit in silence for a while, watching the scenery go by.
"You said you didn't remember any of it."
"I don't. I only know what you told me. About the end, at Stull. But I can still remember what it felt like to have an entire conversation with Lucifer, what it felt like to kill all those demons."
"Hey, those were demons," Dean points out. He reaches out and squeezes Sam's shoulder. "No sense in feeling guilty about that."
Sam shrugs. "I feel guilty about everything."
"Oh. Right. Sacrificing yourself to save the world," Dean says. "You really should be ashamed of yourself."
He's the one who let Sam do it, because he couldn't do it himself. He had to let his brother get trapped in hell.
"If I could have done it without leaving you--"
"Sammy," Dean says sharply. "Don't. You're back now and I'm fine."
Sam doesn't say anything, just watches him, and Dean can see the doubt in his eyes. It pisses him off, the way Sam questions him.
It's what Sam has always done. With him, with their father, everyone.
They sit together quietly, watching the cliffs drift by, spray from the boat wetting them as the boat picks up speed.
"Pretty cliffs," Dean says. "Could probably hide a monster right there, in that cave."
***
Afterward, they grab a quick dinner, and Dean decides it's time for a drink. Many drinks, to try and erase the image of Sam falling down into the trap, taking Lucifer with him. To try and stop reliving the damn memory because Dean has had enough of it. Sam heads back to the room, needing to make some calls first.
Dean makes a beeline for the bar. "Hey there," he says, greeting the bartender with his best smile.
She smiles back, a flash of white teeth and dimples. "And what can I do for you?"
"Whatever you're pouring there looks good," Dean says, nodding at the taps. "For now," he adds with a wink. He slides onto a stool and settles in.
It's a nice place, casual and comfortable without being a total dive. The tables are all rough hewn wood and the walls, knotty pine. Soft lighting and a jukebox is playing something low and twangy in the corner. It's not crowded but there's a good number of people clustered around tables, all in jeans and flannel shirts.
The bartender gives him an appraising once-over as she waits for the mug to fill and Dean feels a spark of interest. She's young, she's pretty, and maybe it's time to get back in the game. He misses the bump and grind of a naked body against his, and that would certainly help him forget but lately it feels like getting there is too much of an effort. Maybe because the thing with Lisa didn't work out, despite Sam's best efforts. Sam's dying wish for him, and he couldn't even do that right.
"Penny for your thoughts." The bartender slides the beer to him.
A wry laugh and Dean says, "Trust me, they aren't even worth that much."
"Really?" She sounds amused. "Can't be that bad, can it?"
Dean smiles at her. "Nah. But hey, I want to ask you something--we keep hearing these stories, about something living in the lake. Something big." He leans across the bar. "What do you think? Have you ever seen it?"
"Well," she leans close, "My grandfather used to tell me stories about the Mishipishu. Half-dragon, half-cougar. Said it caused the rapids to flow, and that its horns are made of pure copper."
"Really? Sounds cool." Dean sips his beer. "Did he ever see one?"
"No. They're just stories." She tosses her long dark hair over her shoulders with a flick of her head and laughs. "Although they do get told to unsuspecting tourists. Anything to pump up the business, you know?"
Dean nods as he admires the long line of her throat, letting his eyes linger on gentle swell of cleavage. She's hot, she's interested and Dean is pretty sure he can remember how this all works. He smiles again. "Good to know. So listen, I'm only in town a couple of days and--"
"Whiskey, please," a familiar voice interrupts. "A large one."
The bartender straightens, startled by the sudden appearance of a man sitting next to Dean. "Didn't see him coming, did you?" Dean asks.
She frowns and shakes her head.
"Yeah, I never do either," Dean commiserates. He turns to Cas. "What's up?"
"Raphael," Cas says slowly, "is a dick."
The bartender looks from Dean, to Cas, and back to Dean again. "Make it a triple," Dean tells her. As she moves off to pour the drink, Dean turns back to Cas. "Let me guess, he's still a little pissed about the burning ring of holy fire we left him in?"
Cas inclines his head in agreement. "It is likely."
"Can't say I blame him." Dean takes a long pull at his beer. "Please tell me he's staying up in heaven for the time being? Because he is one scary-assed dude."
"He is more concerned with heavenly machinations. I don't think he has any interest in earth. After all," Cas adds with an annoyed shake of his head, "humans are beneath him."
"Of course we are." Dean says with a hollow laugh. "But I'm more than happy to stay below his radar."
The bartender returns with a large glass and a bottle of bourbon. "How's this?" she asks.
Dean nods. "Good job."
"He'll pay," Cas says with a wave of his hand toward Dean.
"Of course he will." Dean sighs and reaches for his wallet. "Can you bring an extra glass?"
Dean pays, she brings the second glass. As Dean pours he listens to Cas complain about heaven, happy to lend a sympathetic ear. He finds it all pretty damn funny, angels arguing about rules of order and the resulting political posturing. For all their smug superiority, angels are fucked-up bunch, even more so than humans. After a beer and glass or two of bourbon it becomes downright hilarious and maybe he shouldn't get so much pleasure out of Cas's frustration but damn it, Cas couldn't leave earth fast enough to go play sheriff in heaven.
Serves him right.
"But--but Dean," Cas sputters. "They are cherubs. Third class angels, yet they want an equal place at the table." He shakes his head, dismayed. "It's not right."
"Who says they're third class?"
Cas downs another shot. "Who says? I don't know. God says. That is simply how they are made." His tone is dismissive.
"Oh, really? How are angels made, anyway?" Dean asks.
Cas puts his glass down. "What?" His brow crinkles as he frowns at Dean.
"Angel babies." Dean refills both glasses. “Are there any? Where do they come from?"
Cas's bewildered expression makes Dean laugh out loud. He really has missed Cas, and it must the bourbon making Dean feel such affection for him, so much that when the pretty bartender leans in and asks "Can I get you anything more, boys?" he hardly even notices.
By the time Sam comes in Dean is feeling no pain, just the bubbly happiness of a good buzz. They head over to a table in the corner and Dean promptly tells Sam about the cherubs, just to see Sam smile. And Sam does, he laughs out loud, orders himself a beer and starts right in to a civics lesson. Soon he and Cas are arguing a deep and profound argument over what Dean is pretty sure is important stuff--one angel, one vote and all that--but all the while he simply drinks and grins at them and then drinks some more. His little angel pal and his big over-sized brother who beat the devil, who the hell else could do that?
They're both just so damn awesome.
"Am I right, Dean?" Sam asks after a particularly heated exchange.
"Sammy, you're awesome." Dean throws back the rest of his bourbon and slams the glass on the table. "And so are you, Cas my buddy." He pats Cas's shoulder.
Sam puts down his beer and eyes Dean with suspicion. "Dean, please don't tell me you were trying to keep up with Cas."
"What? Got a problem with that? Because I don't. I don't have a single freakin' problem with the whole entire universe. Ain't that a kick in the pants." Dean picks up the bottle, but for some reason it's empty. "Except for this. This is a problem. Barkeep!" He waves the bottle in the air.
"Dean," Sam hisses. He snatches the bottle from Dean's hand and waves the waitress off.
"Party pooper," Dean complains, even though the room is beginning to sliding out of focus.
"Perhaps it's time for Dean to rest." Cas rises up from the table. "Thank you, Sam, for the enlightening conversation. You've given me a great deal to think about."
"My brother," Dean says with a broad grin, leaning back in his chair. "He's really smart."
Sam laughs. "Yeah, Dean. I'm going to quote you on that. Cas, I'm glad to help." He gestures toward Dean. "Now, if you can just give me a hand with this?"
"Of course." Cas reaches a hand to Dean but Dean is quicker, reaching out and catching Cas's hand in his.
"Hey--no zapping," Dean insists. "It's only a couple blocks, I can get back on my own steam, thank you very much."
"I wasn't going to 'zap', I was helping you up," Cas says, indignant.
"How am I supposed tell your zappy hand from your helping hand?" Dean grumbles. "And I don't need your help." He's still holding Cas's hand, though, and maybe he does need Cas to help him up. All that bourbon is weighing him down, he must have drank more than he realized. He's out of practice but damn, he needed it.
He lets Cas pull him out of the chair, but then shakes his hand free as they make their way out of the now-crowded bar and step out into the cool night air, Sam leading the way. It's a clear night with billions of stars twinkling in the sky. Dean slings an arm around Cas's shoulder as he gazes up in awe. "Cool, huh?"
It's so dazzling that Dean loses his balance but Cas slides an arm around his waist, supporting him. A few deep breaths and Dean's head clears enough for the world to come back into focus--wind sighing in the pines, a soft hoot of an owl and Cas, pressed against his side. It's dark, very dark and when they begin to move again Dean stumbles over a tuft of grass and bumps hard against Cas. Still, Cas holds him steady. He doesn't even sway under Dean's weight.
"You know what you are?" Dean asks, patting Cas's chest.
Cas ponders the question. "Awesome?" he suggests.
"Exactly. But also? A pretty good guy. For an angel. Because most angels are douches. How did you get to not be a douche?"
"There are many angels who believe I am," Cas tells him.
"Because they're douches," Dean explains, pleased by the logic of his argument. He leans against Cas, and Cas's arm tightens around his waist. "Right, Sammy?"
"Sure. Whatever you say, Dean."
Clearly, Sam is too drunk to follow Dean's argument, but at least he's smart enough to agree. "You remember that," Dean says. "Big brother is always right."
"Of course you are."
Sam snickers at him, and it's pretty fucking obnoxious but Dean's shirt has ridden up and Cas's hand is warm on his naked skin and it's distracting as all hell. It occurs to Dean that would only take a tug of his arm to pull Cas around to face him and they could be kissing. Not that he wants to kiss Cas or anything. It's just a thought. Still, it would probably be a sweet kiss, just like in his dream.
But dream or no dream, Dean is not the kind of guy who goes around kissing other guys. He's done other things with guys--sometimes you just have to make do with what's available--but kissing? No way.
Then again, Cas isn't really a guy. He's not even human. He's an angel of the lord.
And Dean is important to him. Whatever the hell that means. If Dean really was so important, Cas could have hung around instead bugging out and going back to heaven, right?
"You could have said 'goodbye', at least," Dean tells him.
Cas stops. "But I am still here."
"I know." Dean stumbles again, hip thudding against Cas's. "Whoa. I think I might be drunk."
"No shit, Dean," Sam tells him, laughing. "How much bourbon was that?"
"Cas drank most of it. Right? Hey, are you feeling anything?" Dean turns and Cas's face is right there, skin soft and pale, cheekbones catching the moonlight and Dean feels like such a fucking dork for noticing, but hey, it's not his fault that Cas is pretty.
It would be so easy to kiss him right now.
"I think I may be feeling something, yes," Cas says, watching Dean intently.
"Good to hear it, chuckles." Dean pokes Cas's chest with a finger. "Hate to think I wasted all that bourbon on you."
"Come on, Dean," Sam says. "Here we are."
A jingle of keys and Dean looks up to see they're in front of their cabin. "Hey, honey, we're home." He grins broadly at Cas, who stares blankly back at him. "It's uh--" Dean starts to explain. "Never mind."
He lets Cas lead him into the awesome paneled pine cabin, with the leather seats and the pine tree mural on the wall. But Dean doesn't remember the lights being so damn bright and when Cas drops him on the bed, the room begins to spin sickeningly. "Uh oh." Dean lays flat, eyes tightly closed as his stomach lurches and damn, that must have been a lot of bourbon.
"The bathroom is right next to you," Sam says. "Feel free to puke your guts out in there, and not all over my stuff."
"Bite me," Dean groans.
The bed dips as Cas sits beside him. "Dean," he says with a sigh.
Opening his eyes, Dean sees Cas staring down at him in exasperation and despite Dean's discomfort, it fills him with something very much like joy. "Hey buddy," Dean says, reaching up to grab a handful of Cas's coat, "you know what? You're important to me, too."
Dean may be drunk but he's pretty sure that right there, on Cas's face, is a smile. A slight but genuine smile. Cas nods, then touches Dean's forehead, fingertips lingering in a soft caress.
Dean's eyes drift shut and his hand slides from Cas's coat onto the bed. His stomach settles, the room stops spinning and he sleeps a deep, thankfully dreamless sleep. He doesn't wake again until morning. And when he does wake up, his head is clear and his stomach is happy and hungry, as if he didn't have a drop to drink the night before.
***
Dean spends the entire day with Sam at the library of a local university, photocopying and jotting down notes. They compare sightings, drawing on commonalities, and narrow down the selection. It's familiar work and comforting, hunched over a book with Sam, although in this case, arguing over the likely number of heads is unusual even for them.
By nightfall, they're ready. As ready as they'll ever be, Dean thinks.
"Okay," Dean says, tossing another branch on the fire. "We're going to do this?" The fire crackles and sends sparks up into the air.
Sam drops his duffel bag onto the sand. "Yup."
"Are you sure this is wise?" Cas asks, staring out over the water. His coat flaps around his legs in the strong breeze.
"Not even a little." Dean snorts. "But we need to know what we are dealing with."
As Sam lays out the vials and notes for the summonings, Dean lays out a shotgun with salt rounds and a revolver with silver bullets. The demon-killing knife is tucked securely in his belt, right next to the knife with the silver blade. He's feeling the familiar thrill of another hunt, a quickening of his heartbeat, his senses tingling--this is what they do and they're damn good at it. And yet his palms are sweating and his shoulders are tense and he can't help but think that they already saved the world, damn it, can't someone else step in and save the damned lake?
Dean shakes himself out of it and takes a deep, steadying breath. Laying a hand on Cas's shoulder, he says, "Listen Cas, if something does show up, and it's really badass? You're going to have to zap us out of here."
Cas nods. "I'd be happy to do so."
It's a minor comfort.
"Why don't we start off with Scylla?" Sam says.
"A water nymph with six heads, twelve legs and a body made up of barking dogs? Sure." Dean pulls out the demon knife. "Bring it on."
Sam picks up his notes and stands at the water's edge. He sprinkles the mixture of herbs and ashes into the water and in a quiet voice, begins reading the Greek incantation. Dean holds the flashlight in one hand, shining it on Sam's notes, and with the other, tightens his grip on the knife. Despite his uneasiness, he's intrigued.
"I actually kind of want to see this, with the barking dogs," he admits to Cas, who is now standing beside him. "What's up with that?"
Cas cocks his head. "I would rather not."
Sam finishes, and they wait. Dean scans the horizon, looking for activity on the water, but he sees nothing. Just the lights from a container ship off in the distance, most likely heading for the Soo locks.
Ten minutes pass in tense silence, with only the crackling of the fire behind them.
"All right then. Not Scylla," Sam says. "Ready to try for the Hydra instead?"
"Damn." Dean sighs. "I was really hoping for a water nymph."
"It's said that the stench from the Hydra's breath is enough to kill man or beast," Cas muses.
"We're talking nine heads here, right?" Dean asks. "That's a lot of bad breath."
Sam nods as he flips through his notebook. "Sort of like you after you've gone through a plate of onion rings, Dean."
"Just for that, I'm eating a double order full next time."
"I believe if we're indeed dealing with the Hydra," Cas says, "there would have been a greater number of deaths, rather than mere destruction of property."
"There was a drowning with the first sinking, but yeah, that's a good point," Sam says.
Dean wouldn't mind if it wasn't the Hydra. Nine heads are a little too much. Especially if they really do grow back two for one when cut off.
"Well, hopefully this will amount to nothing, then." Sam turns and sprinkles a handful of a powered minerals and herbs into the fire. The fire flares up, blue and green and pink.
"Just be ready with the zapping," Dean whispers to Cas.
Sam runs through the incantation, helped by Cas as he stumbles over a word here and there. Dean keeps his eyes on the water. He's not sure they're doing it right, there were a number of different summonings for the Hydra and while Sam is trying out several of them, it's possible that all of them are wrong.
Fifteen minutes and still nothing.
Dean takes a deep breath and lets it out slow, shoulder muscles relaxing. "Ready to call it a bust?"
"There is one more summoning we can try," Cas says. "The leviathan, a serpent demon."
"That's just one head, right?" Sam asks.
"Just one, but it is enough. They normally reside in hell, but perhaps when Lucifer rose--"
"Yeah." Dean grimaces. "A serpent demon? Figures. Just what we need."
Cas steps forward, the water now lapping at his feet. With one arm outstretched, palm facing the horizon, he closes his eyes and leans his head forward, as if listening. The wind picks up, there's an electric buzz in the air and Dean's breath catches - this is serious mojo. He forgets sometimes that Cas is fully powered up again.
When Cas begins reciting in Enochian, his voice low and monotone, the hairs on the back of Dean's neck stand up. He glances over at Sam and sees Sam watching the water nervously.
Dean doesn't want anything to do with hell and demons, not just yet. He's not ready for it. And judging from the look on Sam's face, Sam isn't either.
Cas falls silent, listening again. Dean scans the water, the shore, the line of trees beyond the sand - nothing. After a minute or two, Cas drops his arm. "No," he announces. "It's not a leviathan."
Sam claps him on the back. "Good to hear it."
Dean sheaths his knife, relieved. "That's all we got. Maybe we should try some catnip for the Mishipishu, huh?" He's talking too fast, his knees feel weak and to cover his uneasiness, he turns to the fire, which is blazing merrily. "Anybody got any hot dogs?"
"No," Sam says, opening the flap on his duffel. "But I have something better." He pulls out a package and tosses it to Dean.
Marshmallows.
"Oh god, please tell me you have graham crackers and chocolate bars in there, too."
Sam grins. "Yup. Go find some sticks."
Dean hurries off, Cas in tow, still keeping one eye on the water. But nothing comes to visit, supernatural or otherwise and soon they are settled in around the fire. Dean teaches Cas the intricacies of making s'mores - the careful toasting of the marshmallows (do not, repeat, do not let them catch fire), setting up the crackers and the chocolate, and the final smooshing down of the cracker.
"Push it flat," Dean explains as Cas gingerly places the cracker on top. "You have to make sure the marshmallow is in complete contact with the chocolate, yeah, it's going to be messy--careful, don't break the cracker--"
Cas glares at him, sticky marshmallow smeared over his hand.
"Just eat it," Dean tells him, shoving his own s'more into his mouth and getting crumbs everywhere. And yeah, it's messy, but it's delicious, sweet and chocolatey and crunchy. Sam grunts happily at his side, devouring his in one bite, but that's okay, there's plenty more to be made. Cas is making a face as he carefully bites into his and Dean laughs, happy just to be there, next to a warm fire on a cool night, good people at his side and not a leviathan or hydra or water nymph in sight.
***
Even though the sun is warm, there's a cold morning breeze off the lake and Dean wraps his coat tighter around him. Another interview, a motel owner who heard from a friend of a friend about a huge, undulating creature seen from a tour boat. A vague story, nothing solid. But now, as Dean picks his way through the shoreline, wood strewn everywhere, this is definitely something--remains of a wrecked dock, pieces of boat, and just off shore is a ruined sailboat, listing gravely to one side. Sam is talking to the boat owner, a bearded man who simply shrugs and seems unfazed by the disaster.
"Hey," Dean calls out to a woman walking by. "did you see what happened here?"
She shakes her head. "We don't know, woke up this morning and it was like this. I guess maybe a storm came through last night, but there was nothing this morning, not a cloud in the sky."
"Maybe a boat hit the dock?" Dean suggests.
"They're looking into it. Hope not. Hate to think someone got hurt. Bad for tourism." She shakes her head in dismay. "Listen, I've got to get to work."
"Yeah, bad for tourism," Dean mutters under his breath.
A shriek in the distance startles Dean. A woman, up by the pier. He turns and runs to her, heart pounding. When he gets there it looks like a pile of rags have washed up on shore near the rocky outcropping, but then Dean sees long brown hair. And a small, delicate hand.
The woman rushes over, sobbing. When she reaches the girl Dean can see that it's too late, there's blood everywhere, and the girl's face is crushed, nose flattened. Fuck.
Dean feels sick to his stomach, he wants to puke.
He doesn't want to do this anymore, he doesn't want to see this, he's already seen enough of Death. The mother is is shrieking and now there's a man next to her, kneeling over the girl's body, head bowed as he reaches to touch her. A crowd begins to gather and Dean wonders if a Reaper is there yet, waiting to collect another soul, from a body rendered lifeless by yet another monster.
Dean spins around and stares out over the water, searching. He sees Sam doing the same, but there's nothing out there, nothing he can make out other than crashing waves, driven by the wind. Sam catches his eye and shakes his head, holding his arms up in puzzlement, then points past Dean to where the girl's broken body lays.
There's a trench in the sand, as if something long and heavy had been dragged across it. Dean moves closer, purposely avoiding the small crowd that had gathered around the body. "What the hell?" He nudges the trench with his foot. Could be from a small boat, could be something else.
Someone brushes past him, a familiar blur of beige and flapping coattails.
"Excuse me." Cas elbows his way in to stand beside the girl's parents.
"Are you a doctor?" the father asks, his voice low and shaky. The mother is still sobbing, raising her reddened eyes to Cas.
"No," Cas intones.
Dean watches in astonishment as Cas crouches down beside the mother, reaches out a hand and touches two fingers to the girls forehead. Then, just as quickly, he rises up and walks away from them, up the short path that winds between the dunes.
"Mom? Dad?"
The young girl sits up, bewildered. There isn't a mark on her. Both parents stare in disbelief and Dean takes in their cautious joy, shares in it. He doesn't understand why Cas has done this but he feels like a weight has been removed from his shoulders. And then he's moving, past the small crowd and onto the path, following Cas's steps.
Dean catches up with Cas halfway down the path, still moving fast when Cas turns to him. Dean's momentum carries him right up to Cas and into Cas's space. Cas had saved the girl's life and Dean feels--he feels something, it's more than gratitude, more than wonder, it burns hotter than that.
He doesn't know what to say so he wraps a hand around the back of Cas's neck and kisses him. Just like in his dream.
Cas's lips are soft. He kisses Dean with great care and it takes a moment for it to sink in--Dean's kissing Cas and Cas is kissing him and it's kind of cool and more than a little freaky and the fact that Cas is just going with it--that's kind of freaky, too.
Dean pulls back and Cas regards him with a warm look. He doesn't seem to be shocked or dismayed at all. He might even look pleased.
"Hey guys, I--uh, guys?" Sam calls out behind him
Dean is still nose to nose with Cas. The wind has blown Cas's tie over his shoulder, so Dean reaches over and flips it back down. Then steps back and turns to Sam, who is looking at them both with wide eyes. "Yeah, Sammy?" Dean is surprised to find his voice sounds perfectly normal.
"Am I interrupting something?"
"What?" Dean says, heart pounding. "We're looking for the creature."
"Oh. Last I checked, it wasn't in Cas's face." Sam is pursing his lips, and Dean knows that look. It's Sam trying very hard not to laugh.
"Sammy, this is serious business," Dean insists. "A little girl almost died out there. You're right, there's something out there, and it's killing people."
"Dean, she fell," Sam explains. "Onto the rocks. The dock owner saw it happen."
"Oh." Dean is taken aback. "Not a serpent attack?"
Sam shakes his head. "No serpent this time."
"I'm sure you will find one," Cas says encouragingly.
"I'm good with no monster, really, I am," Dean tells him.
Looking at Cas is a mistake--his eyes are an intense blue in the sunshine and he's staring at Dean as if fascinated. Dean can't take his eyes off of Cas. Or Cas's wide, surprisingly friendly mouth. Which is tilted in a hint of a grin and Dean wants to kiss him again or run like hell in the opposite direction. He's not sure which.
Cas cocks his head and his eyes grow distant. "Right," he sighs. He focuses back on Dean. "I must go. Duty calls. Regrettably."
And just like that, he's gone.
Thank God.
"Dean--" Sam starts.
"Come on, Sam, let's check on that family." Dean turns and heads back up the hill, trotting to prevent Sam from catching up to him with his long long legs.
***
"Make a left up ahead," Sam tells him.
It's hard to see with the rain, but Dean finally spots the turn-off and guides the car down the road. The lake is to his right, waves hitting the shore. Gray sky, gray water, wind buffeting the car, the storm is powerful and Dean's glad to be inside the Impala, warm and dry. "How far up this way?"
"Till we hit the end of the peninsula. I think." Sam squints at the map. "Not a lot of roads out here, but I figure they all lead to the main dock."
"Crazy weather. We'll be lucky the road doesn't flood."
"Hey," Sam says, "Speaking of crazy, how long have you had this thing for Castiel?"
Dean turns the music up loud and pounds his hands on the steering wheel. "Great song, huh?" he shouts as American Band blares through the speakers.
Sam reaches for the radio knob.
"Sammy, don't you dare--"
With a raised eyebrow, Sam turns the volume down. "Nice try, Dean. Now, you and Cas?"
Dean grips the steering wheel tight. "What hell are you talking about? Dude, there's no 'me and Cas'."
Sam turns and watches him. Relentlessly.
And just like that, Dean deflates. "Okay. Fine. But it was only one kiss."
"Hah. So you did kiss him," Sam announces triumphantly.
"What? Oh, god damn it, Sammy," Dean says, realizing that he just gave himself away. "You are such a jerk."
Sam laughs. It's a hearty belly laugh, and Dean has to turn away because he doesn't want Sam to see that he's starting to laugh with him. He loves that sound and it's been way too long since he's heard it.
"Hey, I get it, he's kind of pretty--"
"Shut up," Dean says.
Sam only laughs harder. "With the big blue eyes--"
"I said, shut up, dorkface--"
"I think he'd be good for you, really."
Dean stabs a finger in the air. "If you don't stop right now, I'm pulling this car over, so help me--"
Sam slaps his leg in delight. "Are you practicing for when you guys have kids?"
Dean slams on the brakes and pulls the car over into the shoulder, controlling the skidding tires on rain-slicked pavement with ease. He tries to glare at Sam, but he can only hold it for a few seconds before he grins and shakes his head. "I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing, Sammy," he finally says. And honestly, he doesn't.
"That's nothing new," Sam says, growing serious. "Do any of us ever really know?"
Dean stares. "Wow. Little brother gets all profound and shit."
"I'm just saying," Sam continues, "I used to think I knew, I'd be so damn sure, and then I'd get pissed when it didn't work out. I'm not sure that it was ever really worth it."
"Okay." Dean nods. Maybe Sam has a point. "I get it."
"So, this thing with you and Cas, maybe you just need to go with it."
"And that doesn't freak you out?" Dean asks. "Because I'm telling you, it's freaking me out. In so many ways."
"I'm not saying it isn't a little weird, but think about it, Dean. I drank demon blood. I said yes to Lucifer. And I do remember having a nice little chat with him in my head." A wry laugh and suddenly Sam sounds old and weary. "In comparison, this ain't nothing. And anyway, I like Cas."
"It's not like there's a 'thing' with us. I'm not--you know. Cas is a guy. Now Anna," Dean says with a smile, "that was different. She was a girl. And human. At the time, at least."
Dean likes girls. He likes everything about them--they way they smell, the way they taste, all those curves--
"Trust me, Dean. There's a thing with you two."
Dean frowns at Sam. "What do you mean?"
"Have you seen you two together?"
Dean shakes his head. "We're driving now." He puts the car in gear and pulls out onto the road.
There isn't anything between them. He just kissed Cas because -- because he was grateful Cas had saved that girl's life. Sure, he likes Cas well enough, he's a good friend, they've been through a lot together. Like hell, and the end of the world. But Dean saves the romantic stuff for real people. Human. Not other-worldly beings. No matter how fascinating they may be.
***
On to Part II