The Pride of Your Heart
This segment is dedicated to the incomparable mentholpixie, who, if you haven't read, stop what you're doing and go. I'll wait.
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SHE'S AWESOME ISN'T SHE????
Anyway, she let me run this by her 500 years ago, when I first had the idea, and has read every segment over the long-haul it's taken me to set-up. So go, my friends, and pay her tribute.
To my Sam girls: I myself am one of you. And so I ask that you read this somewhat Cas-centric tale knowing that I have some wonderful torment planned for our favorite puppy a few chapters in. I hope that, by now, you enjoy Team Three as much as I do, and trust that Sam will always get some good angst and cuddles :)
***
The pride of your heart has deceived you, you who live in the clefts of the rocks and make your home on the heights, you who say to yourself, "Who can bring me down to the ground? Obadiah 1:3
Cas couldn’t keep his eyes open.
He’d been determined to finish this week’s Time: he was already three issues behind. But seconds after climbing into bed, his eyelids had made a firm and valiant charge downward. It had been an epic battle ever-since: read a few lines, watch the words blur, feel the room fade away: wake himself back up.
He’d been trying to hack through some article on a recent Town Hall debate between two conservatives, one who supported gay marriage, one who didn’t. He shook his head, forcing himself to focus.
“It’s not so much the nature of homosexuality that’s wrong, it’s the lifestyle,” the article quoted one politician. “Promiscuous behavior, unprotected sex, liberal use of drugs and alcohol, and orgies are accepted and encouraged. This breeds illness and disease, costs the taxpayers millions, and diverts funds away from more naturally evolved medical concerns.”
Cas glanced over at his boyfriend. Dean had fallen asleep with a Robert Ludlum novel half open on his chest. His mouth was slightly open, and a bit of drool was gathering in the corner of his lips. Cas wiped at his own cheek and found he had a bit of his own.
It was 10:35. On a Friday night.
“I think,” Cas said to a sleeping Dean. “We may have missed a few key points of homosexuality.”
The phone rang. Cas sighed and reached for it, praying it wasn’t the hospital calling him in. Dean mumbled something that sounded like ‘shut the zippers down’ and rolled over, book falling to the floor, burying his head in the pillows.
“Cas Morgan.”
“Bro,” Gabriel said, sounding shockingly sober. Seconds later another line was answered and Sam said “Hello?”
“It’s Gabriel, Sam. Don’t worry, I’ve got it.”
“Hi Gabriel!”
“Hey, kid,” Gabe said, with none of his usual enthusiasm.
“It’s late. Is everything alright? What time is it there? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, cowboy, don’t worry about me. I just gotta talk to Cas real quick. Bro stuff, you know.”
“Sure thing. Take care. Bye!”
“What is it?” Cas asked, knowing all too well Gabe didn’t sound like himself.
“Dude...bro...I seriously suck at this. I feel like any way I say it is gonna be dumb. Or melodramatic. Or scar you for life.”
Cas was wide awake now, heart picking up speed. “Gabriel. Just say it.”
“Dad had a...heart/brain killer combo thing in Chicago. He didn’t make it, Cas.”
The receiver suddenly hurt in his hand. “What? How...”
“Yeah, no shit ‘how.’ Lou is running all sorts of PR about how a man in charge of a billion hospitals and non-profit health-initiatives drops dead in his own board room, but that’s what we’re looking at.”
Cas took a slow breath. “Mom?”
“Mike’s with her, and the banshee Aunts. Lou’s running the war-machine, like I said, and Ralph’s dealing with all the legal crap. I’m on my way over to Ma’s, because Mike’s gonna have to go to the hospital and deal with the boards and administrators and stuff. Cas...I know this is shitty for you, but we need you here, pronto.”
“Of course.” His mind was already reeling. He’d have to call Anna-he couldn’t even fathom how he could get a week’s coverage with their small staff. He’d also made reservations for him and Dean at a steakhouse for their anniversary (though Cas wasn’t allowed to call it their anniversary) that had to be canceled, and the mail, the bills, the papers...
“Cas? Kid, you hearin’ me?”
“Of course. I’ll be out there as soon as I can.”
“Call me and I’ll get you at the airport, okay?”
“Sure.”
“You think...” Gabe’s voice was gentle, cautious, “think you’ll be on your own?”
Cas glanced over at a peaceful, sleeping Dean. The man he loved. The man who, along with his brother, was his family. “Sure.”
“Cas, c’mon, you know I don’t care. It’s just that-”
“I know.”
“Dad’s dead. The press is going to be fuckin’ nuts. You gotta-”
“I know,” Cas said. Dean sighed. Cas wanted to burrow into him.
“Okay. You call me. I’ll pick you up.”
“Of course.”
“I’m sorry, kid.”
“I understand.”
“Really. Please-”
“I have to make calls, Gabe.”
“Sure thing. See you soon.”
Cas hung up. His hand was shaking. It wasn’t sinking in. It would be some time before it sunk in. Cas turned toward Dean, to find his boyfriend gazing at him, dazed.
“Hey,” Dean grumbled, eyes half open, mouth still mostly in his pillow. “You okay?”
“My father died.”
Dean’s eyes widened, and he rolled over. “What?”
“He just...he had...he died.”
Dean sat up. “Oh my God.”
“I have to pack. I have to go to New York.”
“Okay-alright, slow down. I’ll get on the phone, get us tickets on the next thing I can find.”
Cas started. “’Us?’”
“Yeah, us.”
“But...what about Sam?”
“He can keep Ted Bundy out of the house as long as we’re gone.”
“But...he needs...”
“Andy and Bobby and Ellen can get him wherever he needs to be. Bet Andy would crash here if he needed it. He’ll understand, man. Quit worrying. It’s done. You’re not going out there alone.”
A knock sounded on their door. Dean called “it’s open” and Sam poked his head in.
“Sorry to interrupt...but Gabe didn’t sound that great. Is everything okay?”
Dean’s hand arrived to rub warmly on his back. “Cas’ Dad passed away.”
Sam’s eyes widened. “What?”
“Yeah. We’re gonna get on the next flight we can, go to New York. You can get Andy to stay if you need to, right?”
Sam looked between the two of them, flung open the door, crossed the room, and swept Cas up into a hug. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, holding tight.
“It’s alright,” Cas said. And he meant it: he didn’t feel anything, not a thing. Not yet, anyway.
“Don’t worry, you won’t be alone. I’ll find us a flight. I’ll call the papers, get them suspended, call Bobby and Ellen to pick up the mail, get everything covered with Alan and Missouri, and we’ll be there before you know it.”
“Sammy, I got it,” Dean assured him.
“No, no way. Cas needs you, and based on what he’s told us, you’re both going to need as many allies as you can get. I’m going with you.”
Cas felt a sudden, hideous panic. “Thank you...both of you. But...I should do this alone. You don’t...you can’t understand what it will be like-”
“Not unless we see it first hand,” Dean said.
“We know enough to know it sucks and it’s gonna be hard for you, and that’s all we need to know you’re not going alone,” Sam said.
“Anyone else would bring family, you have that right.”
“And yeah, we may not be the family they want you to have, but we’re family and we’re going to be right there with you through this.”
“Gabe said-” Cas managed, “he said I should come alone. The press-”
Sam and Dean didn’t look very much alike by traditional sibling standards. But right then, they crossed their arms, set their jaws, and frowned their brows like twins. And Cas knew he’d lost.
***
The Kansas City airport was busier than Cas remembered it. Smack in the center of the country, it was a rush of connecting flights, with bleary-eyed suits racing to pick-up flights after cancellations, or forced to break up an otherwise direct flight to save corporate a few hundred bucks.
Cas and Dean found three seats while Sam ducked off with his list and cell phone. Cas had to admit to being impressed; the younger Winchester had been a model of calm, quick organization. Everything felt surreal to Cas, and Dean had grown progressively more twitchy as they’d neared the terminal. Sitting beside him now, he half-wished he wasn’t there: Dean’s fidgeting and huffing was starting to make him nervous.
“Dean,” he finally said, “you know I appreciate you offering to come with me. But if it’s making you this anxious-”
“I’m not ‘anxious’!” Dean roared, leaping to his feet to pace.
“You’re making me anxious.”
“Well, I don’t understand why you’re so calm in the first place.”
Cas sighed. Sam caught his eye and made his way toward them, list in hand.
“Okay,” he said. “So Bobby and Ellen are going to get our mail, and Ellen said she’d water the plants. Got the papers canceled. I’m all covered; Andy’s going to check in and report back at group. Dean, Jay said to take what you need, but call if it’s going to be more than a week. Cas, Anna wanted to know where she should send condolences, so I told her I’d check when we were there and call her back. She said not to worry. I also moved your guys’ reservation for ‘dinner’”-he added air quotes-“to two weeks from now. And I texted Gabe the time we land. Oh, and here,” he reached into his carry-on and pulled out a bottle of water and a couple packs of gum, “we can’t bring the water on the plane, but I figured we’d polish it off while we wait.”
“Thank you, Sam,” Cas smiled, feeling his nerves abate. Dean might be jittery, but Sam seemed to have the situation well in hand.
“Am I the only one who understands what’s about to happen here?” Dean snapped. “We need to be ready, understand? You need to focus.”
Sam looked from Cas to Dean, baffled. “Dean...I know this is tough, but we’re together.”
“Yeah, and if we want to stay together, we have to be on alert, you hearin’ me?”
“How is this helping Cas?”
“Keeping us alive! I’m on the aisle, and you two are to stay down, seatbelts on, understand?”
“What are you talking about?”
“THAT!” Dean roared, pointing out the window at the plane, waiting to be boarded. Enough heads turned that Dean lowered his voice to a growl. “There is zero scientific proof that those things can stay airborne.”
“There’s nothing but scientific proof-the whole thing is science!”
“And what about Al-Qaeda, huh? Shoe bombs? Snake bombs? Pressure cookers? Assuming we make it off the tarmac, who knows what’s going to happen up there?”
Sam bit his lip, hard, obviously battling a smile. Cas felt realization slowly dawning. “You’ve never flown before?”
“That is not the point!”
Cas looked to Sam, who quickly covered his mouth and feigned a cough, eyes bright with laughter.
“Dean, I've flown my whole life," Cas reminded him. "So has the rest of my family. It’s perfectly safe.”
Dean glared. “That’s what they want you to think.”
“Who’s ‘they’?”
“The bad guys!”
Sam coughed/laughed into his hand. Dean glared at him. Cas tried to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and was smacked away.
“Statistically speaking, we’re far safer on a plane than anywhere else-including the road.”
“The hell we are.”
“It’s true,” Sam countered, attempting to reign in his amusement. “You just have to sit back and relax, man. They’ll be drinks and snacks delivered right to you, and a TV in the back of the seat in front of you. You can just chill.”
Cas had forgotten that Sam had flown to California several times, to visit Jess’s family. “Sam’s right. And we’ll be right with you.”
“Y’all need to watch Fox sometimes,” Dean grumbled. “Everyone and everything can blow up mid-air. No reason.”
“That’s crazy, man,” Sam said, fighting another grin.
“What’s crazy is you two acting like we’re just walking along the yellow brick road, and ruby slippers aren’t loaded with explosives set to go off seven-hundred-million feet above the Earth!”
“Dean,” Cas tried to touch him once more, and got smacked again. “Just...try and trust Sam and I here. We wouldn’t make you get in a death-trap.”
“You two are too dumb to know it’s a death-trap.”
Sam rolled his eyes and sank into the seat next to his brother. “You know if you heard yourself right now, you’d say you were nuts?”
“College boys, think they’re so damn smart,” Dean grumbled, just as they announced boarding. Dean’s anxiety poured off him as he seized the three’s shared carry-on and strode like a warrior toward the gate. Cas exchanged a glance with Sam, who was trying not to laugh again, and placed a light hand on Dean’s back as they boarded and found their seats. Sam was directly behind them, beside the window, while a stout businessman with a smoker’s cough separated Dean and Cas, until a first-class seat opened up and he moved to the front of the plane and Dean moved beside him.
“Try and be calm,” Cas said.
“Try and shutup,” Dean snapped, to Sam snorting behind them.
Cas tried and failed to take Dean’s hand multiple times during take-off, but Dean finally let him when the safety lights went off and they were moving at a steady altitude. Somehow the fact that they’re safely airborne seemed to set Dean off more, and he dug his fingers hard around Cas’s and started humming old rock tunes, gaze fixed on the aisle as if he had x-ray terrorist vision.
“Hey Dean,” Sam said, poking his brother through the seat. “Remember when you tried to sneak food into the theater and that guy said he’d call the cops? What movie were we seeing?”
“Bourne something or other.”
“I thought it had Tom Cruise.”
“Did not...did it?”
“Was it a Mission Impossible?”
“Hell no. I didn’t pay to see that junk.”
A beat. Then,
“Hey Dean...remember when I was the safari guide in that play? How old was I?”
Then,
“Hey Dean, remember when Dad took us to the Rocky Horror midnight showing? And I didn’t know what popping a virgin meant?”
Then,
“Hey Dean, remember when I had the flu and we watched The Monkeys for four days?”
Cas had to smile. Somewhere, between Kansas and Virginia, the younger Winchester accomplished the impossible: he made his big brother forget he had, currently, no control over their lives.
Cas took the opportunity to try and rest, and focus, though he felt nothing, still: and he dreaded forcing himself to look beneath the numbness. The Winchesters had no idea what was truly coming toward them, and Cas was desperate, above all else, to minimize their exposure.
And yet...there would be press. Gossip. Disapproval. Things Cas had never had to face: not with Sam and Dean by his side. He was taking them to a world they couldn’t possibly understand, and one he himself was out of touch with.
He was wrong for doing it.
He’d never make it without them.
And, as the plane banked and began its long descent toward New York, he couldn’t help but feel a dark thrill at bringing his new family here to meet his old. It was partly Sam’s fault: the younger man was constantly reaching through the seats, asking Cas to confirm he was seeing what he was seeing:
“Is that the tip of the island?”
“Is that the Statue of Liberty?”
“Is that the Empire State Building?”
“The Chrysler Building?”
“The Brooklyn Bridge?”
“The Williamsburg Bridge?"
“New York City,” Sam breathed, as the Pilot announced their final descent.
Next
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SHE'S AWESOME ISN'T SHE????
Anyway, she let me run this by her 500 years ago, when I first had the idea, and has read every segment over the long-haul it's taken me to set-up. So go, my friends, and pay her tribute.
To my Sam girls: I myself am one of you. And so I ask that you read this somewhat Cas-centric tale knowing that I have some wonderful torment planned for our favorite puppy a few chapters in. I hope that, by now, you enjoy Team Three as much as I do, and trust that Sam will always get some good angst and cuddles :)
***
The pride of your heart has deceived you, you who live in the clefts of the rocks and make your home on the heights, you who say to yourself, "Who can bring me down to the ground? Obadiah 1:3
Cas couldn’t keep his eyes open.
He’d been determined to finish this week’s Time: he was already three issues behind. But seconds after climbing into bed, his eyelids had made a firm and valiant charge downward. It had been an epic battle ever-since: read a few lines, watch the words blur, feel the room fade away: wake himself back up.
He’d been trying to hack through some article on a recent Town Hall debate between two conservatives, one who supported gay marriage, one who didn’t. He shook his head, forcing himself to focus.
“It’s not so much the nature of homosexuality that’s wrong, it’s the lifestyle,” the article quoted one politician. “Promiscuous behavior, unprotected sex, liberal use of drugs and alcohol, and orgies are accepted and encouraged. This breeds illness and disease, costs the taxpayers millions, and diverts funds away from more naturally evolved medical concerns.”
Cas glanced over at his boyfriend. Dean had fallen asleep with a Robert Ludlum novel half open on his chest. His mouth was slightly open, and a bit of drool was gathering in the corner of his lips. Cas wiped at his own cheek and found he had a bit of his own.
It was 10:35. On a Friday night.
“I think,” Cas said to a sleeping Dean. “We may have missed a few key points of homosexuality.”
The phone rang. Cas sighed and reached for it, praying it wasn’t the hospital calling him in. Dean mumbled something that sounded like ‘shut the zippers down’ and rolled over, book falling to the floor, burying his head in the pillows.
“Cas Morgan.”
“Bro,” Gabriel said, sounding shockingly sober. Seconds later another line was answered and Sam said “Hello?”
“It’s Gabriel, Sam. Don’t worry, I’ve got it.”
“Hi Gabriel!”
“Hey, kid,” Gabe said, with none of his usual enthusiasm.
“It’s late. Is everything alright? What time is it there? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, cowboy, don’t worry about me. I just gotta talk to Cas real quick. Bro stuff, you know.”
“Sure thing. Take care. Bye!”
“What is it?” Cas asked, knowing all too well Gabe didn’t sound like himself.
“Dude...bro...I seriously suck at this. I feel like any way I say it is gonna be dumb. Or melodramatic. Or scar you for life.”
Cas was wide awake now, heart picking up speed. “Gabriel. Just say it.”
“Dad had a...heart/brain killer combo thing in Chicago. He didn’t make it, Cas.”
The receiver suddenly hurt in his hand. “What? How...”
“Yeah, no shit ‘how.’ Lou is running all sorts of PR about how a man in charge of a billion hospitals and non-profit health-initiatives drops dead in his own board room, but that’s what we’re looking at.”
Cas took a slow breath. “Mom?”
“Mike’s with her, and the banshee Aunts. Lou’s running the war-machine, like I said, and Ralph’s dealing with all the legal crap. I’m on my way over to Ma’s, because Mike’s gonna have to go to the hospital and deal with the boards and administrators and stuff. Cas...I know this is shitty for you, but we need you here, pronto.”
“Of course.” His mind was already reeling. He’d have to call Anna-he couldn’t even fathom how he could get a week’s coverage with their small staff. He’d also made reservations for him and Dean at a steakhouse for their anniversary (though Cas wasn’t allowed to call it their anniversary) that had to be canceled, and the mail, the bills, the papers...
“Cas? Kid, you hearin’ me?”
“Of course. I’ll be out there as soon as I can.”
“Call me and I’ll get you at the airport, okay?”
“Sure.”
“You think...” Gabe’s voice was gentle, cautious, “think you’ll be on your own?”
Cas glanced over at a peaceful, sleeping Dean. The man he loved. The man who, along with his brother, was his family. “Sure.”
“Cas, c’mon, you know I don’t care. It’s just that-”
“I know.”
“Dad’s dead. The press is going to be fuckin’ nuts. You gotta-”
“I know,” Cas said. Dean sighed. Cas wanted to burrow into him.
“Okay. You call me. I’ll pick you up.”
“Of course.”
“I’m sorry, kid.”
“I understand.”
“Really. Please-”
“I have to make calls, Gabe.”
“Sure thing. See you soon.”
Cas hung up. His hand was shaking. It wasn’t sinking in. It would be some time before it sunk in. Cas turned toward Dean, to find his boyfriend gazing at him, dazed.
“Hey,” Dean grumbled, eyes half open, mouth still mostly in his pillow. “You okay?”
“My father died.”
Dean’s eyes widened, and he rolled over. “What?”
“He just...he had...he died.”
Dean sat up. “Oh my God.”
“I have to pack. I have to go to New York.”
“Okay-alright, slow down. I’ll get on the phone, get us tickets on the next thing I can find.”
Cas started. “’Us?’”
“Yeah, us.”
“But...what about Sam?”
“He can keep Ted Bundy out of the house as long as we’re gone.”
“But...he needs...”
“Andy and Bobby and Ellen can get him wherever he needs to be. Bet Andy would crash here if he needed it. He’ll understand, man. Quit worrying. It’s done. You’re not going out there alone.”
A knock sounded on their door. Dean called “it’s open” and Sam poked his head in.
“Sorry to interrupt...but Gabe didn’t sound that great. Is everything okay?”
Dean’s hand arrived to rub warmly on his back. “Cas’ Dad passed away.”
Sam’s eyes widened. “What?”
“Yeah. We’re gonna get on the next flight we can, go to New York. You can get Andy to stay if you need to, right?”
Sam looked between the two of them, flung open the door, crossed the room, and swept Cas up into a hug. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, holding tight.
“It’s alright,” Cas said. And he meant it: he didn’t feel anything, not a thing. Not yet, anyway.
“Don’t worry, you won’t be alone. I’ll find us a flight. I’ll call the papers, get them suspended, call Bobby and Ellen to pick up the mail, get everything covered with Alan and Missouri, and we’ll be there before you know it.”
“Sammy, I got it,” Dean assured him.
“No, no way. Cas needs you, and based on what he’s told us, you’re both going to need as many allies as you can get. I’m going with you.”
Cas felt a sudden, hideous panic. “Thank you...both of you. But...I should do this alone. You don’t...you can’t understand what it will be like-”
“Not unless we see it first hand,” Dean said.
“We know enough to know it sucks and it’s gonna be hard for you, and that’s all we need to know you’re not going alone,” Sam said.
“Anyone else would bring family, you have that right.”
“And yeah, we may not be the family they want you to have, but we’re family and we’re going to be right there with you through this.”
“Gabe said-” Cas managed, “he said I should come alone. The press-”
Sam and Dean didn’t look very much alike by traditional sibling standards. But right then, they crossed their arms, set their jaws, and frowned their brows like twins. And Cas knew he’d lost.
***
The Kansas City airport was busier than Cas remembered it. Smack in the center of the country, it was a rush of connecting flights, with bleary-eyed suits racing to pick-up flights after cancellations, or forced to break up an otherwise direct flight to save corporate a few hundred bucks.
Cas and Dean found three seats while Sam ducked off with his list and cell phone. Cas had to admit to being impressed; the younger Winchester had been a model of calm, quick organization. Everything felt surreal to Cas, and Dean had grown progressively more twitchy as they’d neared the terminal. Sitting beside him now, he half-wished he wasn’t there: Dean’s fidgeting and huffing was starting to make him nervous.
“Dean,” he finally said, “you know I appreciate you offering to come with me. But if it’s making you this anxious-”
“I’m not ‘anxious’!” Dean roared, leaping to his feet to pace.
“You’re making me anxious.”
“Well, I don’t understand why you’re so calm in the first place.”
Cas sighed. Sam caught his eye and made his way toward them, list in hand.
“Okay,” he said. “So Bobby and Ellen are going to get our mail, and Ellen said she’d water the plants. Got the papers canceled. I’m all covered; Andy’s going to check in and report back at group. Dean, Jay said to take what you need, but call if it’s going to be more than a week. Cas, Anna wanted to know where she should send condolences, so I told her I’d check when we were there and call her back. She said not to worry. I also moved your guys’ reservation for ‘dinner’”-he added air quotes-“to two weeks from now. And I texted Gabe the time we land. Oh, and here,” he reached into his carry-on and pulled out a bottle of water and a couple packs of gum, “we can’t bring the water on the plane, but I figured we’d polish it off while we wait.”
“Thank you, Sam,” Cas smiled, feeling his nerves abate. Dean might be jittery, but Sam seemed to have the situation well in hand.
“Am I the only one who understands what’s about to happen here?” Dean snapped. “We need to be ready, understand? You need to focus.”
Sam looked from Cas to Dean, baffled. “Dean...I know this is tough, but we’re together.”
“Yeah, and if we want to stay together, we have to be on alert, you hearin’ me?”
“How is this helping Cas?”
“Keeping us alive! I’m on the aisle, and you two are to stay down, seatbelts on, understand?”
“What are you talking about?”
“THAT!” Dean roared, pointing out the window at the plane, waiting to be boarded. Enough heads turned that Dean lowered his voice to a growl. “There is zero scientific proof that those things can stay airborne.”
“There’s nothing but scientific proof-the whole thing is science!”
“And what about Al-Qaeda, huh? Shoe bombs? Snake bombs? Pressure cookers? Assuming we make it off the tarmac, who knows what’s going to happen up there?”
Sam bit his lip, hard, obviously battling a smile. Cas felt realization slowly dawning. “You’ve never flown before?”
“That is not the point!”
Cas looked to Sam, who quickly covered his mouth and feigned a cough, eyes bright with laughter.
“Dean, I've flown my whole life," Cas reminded him. "So has the rest of my family. It’s perfectly safe.”
Dean glared. “That’s what they want you to think.”
“Who’s ‘they’?”
“The bad guys!”
Sam coughed/laughed into his hand. Dean glared at him. Cas tried to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and was smacked away.
“Statistically speaking, we’re far safer on a plane than anywhere else-including the road.”
“The hell we are.”
“It’s true,” Sam countered, attempting to reign in his amusement. “You just have to sit back and relax, man. They’ll be drinks and snacks delivered right to you, and a TV in the back of the seat in front of you. You can just chill.”
Cas had forgotten that Sam had flown to California several times, to visit Jess’s family. “Sam’s right. And we’ll be right with you.”
“Y’all need to watch Fox sometimes,” Dean grumbled. “Everyone and everything can blow up mid-air. No reason.”
“That’s crazy, man,” Sam said, fighting another grin.
“What’s crazy is you two acting like we’re just walking along the yellow brick road, and ruby slippers aren’t loaded with explosives set to go off seven-hundred-million feet above the Earth!”
“Dean,” Cas tried to touch him once more, and got smacked again. “Just...try and trust Sam and I here. We wouldn’t make you get in a death-trap.”
“You two are too dumb to know it’s a death-trap.”
Sam rolled his eyes and sank into the seat next to his brother. “You know if you heard yourself right now, you’d say you were nuts?”
“College boys, think they’re so damn smart,” Dean grumbled, just as they announced boarding. Dean’s anxiety poured off him as he seized the three’s shared carry-on and strode like a warrior toward the gate. Cas exchanged a glance with Sam, who was trying not to laugh again, and placed a light hand on Dean’s back as they boarded and found their seats. Sam was directly behind them, beside the window, while a stout businessman with a smoker’s cough separated Dean and Cas, until a first-class seat opened up and he moved to the front of the plane and Dean moved beside him.
“Try and be calm,” Cas said.
“Try and shutup,” Dean snapped, to Sam snorting behind them.
Cas tried and failed to take Dean’s hand multiple times during take-off, but Dean finally let him when the safety lights went off and they were moving at a steady altitude. Somehow the fact that they’re safely airborne seemed to set Dean off more, and he dug his fingers hard around Cas’s and started humming old rock tunes, gaze fixed on the aisle as if he had x-ray terrorist vision.
“Hey Dean,” Sam said, poking his brother through the seat. “Remember when you tried to sneak food into the theater and that guy said he’d call the cops? What movie were we seeing?”
“Bourne something or other.”
“I thought it had Tom Cruise.”
“Did not...did it?”
“Was it a Mission Impossible?”
“Hell no. I didn’t pay to see that junk.”
A beat. Then,
“Hey Dean...remember when I was the safari guide in that play? How old was I?”
Then,
“Hey Dean, remember when Dad took us to the Rocky Horror midnight showing? And I didn’t know what popping a virgin meant?”
Then,
“Hey Dean, remember when I had the flu and we watched The Monkeys for four days?”
Cas had to smile. Somewhere, between Kansas and Virginia, the younger Winchester accomplished the impossible: he made his big brother forget he had, currently, no control over their lives.
Cas took the opportunity to try and rest, and focus, though he felt nothing, still: and he dreaded forcing himself to look beneath the numbness. The Winchesters had no idea what was truly coming toward them, and Cas was desperate, above all else, to minimize their exposure.
And yet...there would be press. Gossip. Disapproval. Things Cas had never had to face: not with Sam and Dean by his side. He was taking them to a world they couldn’t possibly understand, and one he himself was out of touch with.
He was wrong for doing it.
He’d never make it without them.
And, as the plane banked and began its long descent toward New York, he couldn’t help but feel a dark thrill at bringing his new family here to meet his old. It was partly Sam’s fault: the younger man was constantly reaching through the seats, asking Cas to confirm he was seeing what he was seeing:
“Is that the tip of the island?”
“Is that the Statue of Liberty?”
“Is that the Empire State Building?”
“The Chrysler Building?”
“The Brooklyn Bridge?”
“The Williamsburg Bridge?"
“New York City,” Sam breathed, as the Pilot announced their final descent.
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