When the war is over, the smoke slowly clears.
Title: When the war is over, the smoke slowly clears
Author: fate_incomplete
Rating: PGish
Characters: Dean, Cas, Sam, Lucifer, Michael, implied Dean/Cas
Spoilers: Season 5
Warnings: alcohol use, language, I guess some torture, angst
Word Count: Approx 6,500
Summary: The end of the apocalypse and the inevitable fallout. Dean tries to end the apocalypse on his own to protect those he loves, but his plan goes horribly wrong and he struggles to live with the consequences. Though it does have an unexpected result. After the apocalypse has ended Sam tries to heal the emotional wounds.
Notes: A big thanks to quovadimus83 for beta'ring my draft. I made significant changes and added a lot so any mistakes are my own. My first longer fic that actually has a plot.
I love comments so please feel free to comment away...
November 2010...
Anguish.
Loss.
Pain.
Helplessness.
Tangled sheets were wrapped around a sweat drenched body. The sleeper continued to toss, fighting off the sheets as though that would shake the nightmare that gripped him. A soft moan escaped from his throat, so filled with anguish and sadness that the man watching over him could only imagine what horrors stalked him in his dreams. He briefly thought of waking him, but knew that that would bring no comfort. This man wanted no one near him, had left and refused contact to wallow in his anguish, and would only be even angrier if he knew he was here, watching him.
It had taken Sam weeks to find him. Following a trail of booze and angry bar fights to this run down dive of a motel. As he looked around the room, he saw it was full of empty liquor bottles and overturned furniture. He had been here for about an hour just watching the man sleep, if you could call the constant tossing sleep. He guessed no amount of alcohol could drown out the nightmare that seemed to have consumed the man, to let him rest for even a moment.
A tired sigh escaped from Sam as he rubbed his forehead and tried to think of what to do next. He had been so consumed with his search he hadn’t really thought about what to do next. He watched the man toss for a while longer, thinking things through. He knew any reaction he would get should the man wake, was unlikely to be pleasant. He stood and walked to the door, pausing as he opened it to survey the room once more, his eyes coming back to the sweat soaked bed. His shoulders slumped as he closed the door and left, as if the depressiveness of the room had managed to soak into him.
He walked across the street to a bar and ordered a drink. He had to reach out, but he wasn’t sure just how. As he downed his second drink, he pulled out a pad and pen from the bag he was carrying, and began to write. His thoughts were torn between the man in the motel across the street and another who he was due to meet tomorrow. By the time the bartender informed him he was closing up, Sam had finished the letter.
He stood outside the man’s motel room for several moments staring at the envelope in his hands. He knew it was a feeble attempt to reach out, to offer understanding and maybe some much needed hope. The words seemed so insufficient for everything that had happened, that had been sacrificed, but they were all he had.
He slipped the envelope under the door. The first rays of the sun coming through the window, falling across it to reveal a single name written in Sam’s hand.
Castiel.
...................................................
May 2010....
The air in the room seemed to almost tingle with the amount of anger that flashed in the eyes of the two men in front of Sam. Dean was leaning against a table, his arm folded, and glaring at Castiel who was standing merely inches away. The raw anger in Castiel’s eyes was an inferno compared to Dean’s, which was only fitting given the angelic force behind them.
“Dean, this is insane,” Castiel growled at Dean without breaking his gaze.
“Yeah, well, insane is pretty much all we’ve got at the moment, Cas,” Dean countered, just as unblinking.
If the situation weren’t so desperate, Sam would have admired his brother’s ability to be steadfast in the blaze of Castiel’s unblunted anger, not something he thought he was capable of himself. Fortunately, at this moment, he was on Castiel’s side.
“Dean, Cas has got a point. This is the craziest idea you’ve come up with, in a long line of crazy ideas.”
Dean broke eye contact with Castiel long enough to look at Sam. “Yeah well it’s still an idea, the only one we got. I’m going with it.” He turned back to Castiel, “With or without your help.”
“You might as well have said yes to Michael. This is just as suicidal.” Castiel glared for a second longer before he was suddenly gone, papers from the table scattering in his angry wake, as he went off to get the objects Dean had just requested.
“Well, that was a little intense,” Dean quipped with a smirk.
Sam ignored his sarcasm. “Can you blame him?”
Dean shrugged and turned to continue packing weapons and books into the duffel on the table rather than admit Sam had a point, and also to hide the moment of guilt that crossed his face.
Dean knew that Castiel could often see inside him. He hoped the ridiculous plan he had just spun to him and his brother had thrown Castiel off enough to not see it as the lie it was. As he walked out of the motel room his hand slipped in to his pocket and he gently fingered the four rings it contained. The rings he had taken from Bobby’s days earlier without anyone noticing. His real plan was probably far more suicidal, and he didn’t want anyone to try and stop him.
Even he had to admit his actual plan was completely insane. So much of it hinged on a demon, for one thing. He picked up his phone and dialled. Crowley answered. “It’s time,” Dean said simply before hanging up and tossing the phone.
...................................................
Dean drove straight from the motel to Ilchester. He didn’t stop he didn’t rest. There was no point since he fully expected to die tonight, but his death would put an end to the apocalypse, and it would mean Sam would never have to say yes to Lucifer. He was at Bobby’s, safely out of harm’s way. He would risk no one but himself.
Neither Sam nor Castiel would miss him for another eight hours, he had made sure of that. They thought he was driving to Bobby’s to meet them. He had made sure no one knew where he was really heading, and therefore no one would know to try and stop him.
His plan was simple. Well, relatively simple. He and Crowley were going to lure Lucifer back to his cage and use the horseman’s rings to lock him back in. The plan was for Crowley to ensure Lucifer found out Dean was heading to the Ilchester church to retrieve a weapon for Michael, one capable of killing Lucifer. If Lucifer had a weakness it was his pride and arrogance. He would come.
...................................................
Sam and Bobby waited silently in Bobby’s kitchen. All but one of the things needed for Dean’s plan lay on the table before them. Neither spoke. What could they say? The plan was crazy but at this point, maybe it was crazy enough to work. Neither was really sure if they believed that, but they held onto it anyway.
A slight shift in the air announced Castiel’s arrival. In his hands was an urn of holy oil the last component they needed. He looked around. “Where’s Dean?”
“Not here yet,” Sam answered absently.
Castiel's brow creased as he thought about that, a flash of anger came into his eyes as he stalked across the room to the wall safe. He waved his hand and it flung open. It was empty. “You stubborn, stupid, son of a…" a flutter of wings cut off his sentence as he left as suddenly as he had appeared.
Sam and Bobby looked at each other in confusion. It took a moment for it to sink in what Castiel had seen: the four rings of the horseman were gone. There was only one explanation.
....................................................
The plan had been so close to working. Lucifer had followed him to the church, as planned. He had followed him inside, as planned. Dean had been about to use the rings to trap him, as planned. However from there it had all gone horribly wrong. Lucifer had been merely toying with him, letting Dean get a brief glimpse of victory, of hope, before snatching it all away.
Dean didn’t know how Lucifer had known. Maybe Crowley double crossed him, maybe rumours had filtered down through the countless demons serving Lucifer. Maybe his plan had been so ridiculous Lucifer had seen right through it. He didn’t know, not that it made any difference how. The plan had failed.
Lucifer had hurled Dean here. Into hell. Back into the pit where Dean had lost so much of himself last time. He couldn’t go through it again. He didn’t think he had the strength.
He had thought he had heard a voice just before he was thrown here, but it was most likely only wishful thinking. It had sounded like Castiel but it couldn’t have been. The sigil carved in his ribs meant Castiel could never have found him. Could have he?
Dean still lay where he landed. He knew he should move but, didn’t know where to go. He staggered to his feet. There was no hope. Even if the angel figured out what happed, could he find him here, protected from his sight as he was?
..................................................
Castiel entered the church just in time to see Lucifer holding Dean by the throat. Lucifer looked over Dean’s head straight at him. “Dean,” Castiel almost whispered.
Lucifers fingers went to Dean’s forehead and he disappeared. Lucifer stood smiling.
“Where did you send him,” Castiel growled, preparing to meet his fate at the hands of his brother.
“Somewhere you’ll never find him,” Lucifer replied, still smiling before he disappeared.
Castiel rushed to where Dean had lain. He knelt placing his hand on the floor. A trace still lingered. If he was quick enough he knew a spell to trace where Lucifer had sent him. Castiel closed his eyes and concentrated, chanting in Enochian. He rocked back on his heels from the effects of the spell, a flash of pain crossing his features. He shuddered, he knew that scent, he had been there before. Hell. Lucifer had set Dean to hell again.
His eyes flew open. If anyone had been there they would have seen the panic that flashed in them before he disappeared, leaving the church empty in his wake. He rushed headlong into hell, alone, without a thought for his own safety or sparing the time to seek help.
...................................................
Castiel appeared in hell at the spot where Dean had landed, the scent of hell buffeting his grace. He looked around and saw Dean leaning against a pillar of stone, staring at him in almost bewilderment. “Cas? How the hell did you find me?”
“I followed you,” Castiel shrugged as if it was obvious.
Dean could see he looked weakened, he figured transporting to hell probably wasn’t the easiest thing for an angel cut off from heaven. “I know you’re probably pissed at me, but how ‘bout we just get out of here and you kick my ass later?” Dean replied.
Castiel almost smiled at the typical Dean response but the expression froze, he gaze fixed on something behind Dean.
He was by Dean’s side just as had turned to see what Castiel was looking at. Lucifer.
Castiel raised his fingers to Dean’s forehead, a look of sadness in his eyes. “You’ll find a way, Dean,” he whispered, “but it will have to be without me.”
It was only a split second but Dean swore it lasted much longer as he stared into Castiel’s eyes. “No! Cas!” He barely had the words out before Castiel teleported him, more like blasted him, back to Bobby’s. The force with which he travelled was unlike the other times he had been zapped by Castiel, the power needed to bodily remove him from hell taking everything from Castiel.
Castiel stumbled, the effort almost bringing him to his knees, but he still turned to face Lucifer.
Dean slammed into the wall of Bobby’s kitchen. He stumbled to his knees. “Cas. No!” he screamed before collapsing.
...................................................
Castiel stood facing his brother. His hands clenched into fists by his sides. He stood perfectly still, but his eyes hardened in determination and anger. He knew this was a fight he couldn’t win. However it was one he wouldn’t back away from, besides he didn’t have the power left to transport himself back out of hell.
He would make his final stand here in hell. It seemed fitting somehow. He had fallen so far, heaven was closed to him, and with that much of his power had waned. He would die here in hell at the hands of his brother, the logical conclusion to his choice to stand against his brothers and fight for what he believed was right.
“You really don’t know when to give up do you little brother?” Lucifer lounged against the rock wall eyeing his younger sibling. “I really had no desire to destroy you, but I will. You know you can’t defeat me?” Lucifer studied Castiel, as if trying to solve a curious puzzle.
“You truly are a peculiar creature. You think for yourself, I admire that.” He said as he pointed at Castiel with an almost ironic smirk. “If only you hadn’t thrown yourself at the feet of the Winchesters.”
Castiel continued to stare at his brother, unmoved by his words, waiting stoically for the inevitable fight. “Are you really going to try and persuade me Lucifer? I will not sympathise with you. Your arrogance and pride, your righteousness. You are no better than the humans you despise. They are far more worthy of our father’s love than you ever were?”
“Our father?” Lucifer spat out. “Are you really going to defend him? After he abandoned you?”
A hint of sadness entered Castiel’s eyes. “Perhaps it was us that abandoned him,” he said quietly.
Lucifer laughed menacingly, anger seemed to emanate from him. “We abandoned him? He was never worthy of our love. He put those despicable, pathetic, weak mud monkeys before us? He was wrong and I intend to prove it when I wipe every last one of them from existence.” He strode towards Castiel his eyes seeming to flare with the anger that now boiled in them.
“You insolent fool. I will destroy everything you have fought for. I will make you beg for death. You will help my cause whether you want to or not. I see what is in your heart brother, and I know now exactly what buttons to push in that worthless, self loathing heart of Dean Winchester. One pathetic human emotion that will break him. Guilt.”
The power and speed of Lucifer overwhelmed Castiel. He fought with all the strength he had left, but it wasn’t enough. Lucifer held him by the hair as he lay on the ground. Blood oozed from cuts of his face and he struggled to breath, his body beaten and broken. “I’m not going to kill you Castiel. I’m going to do something far worse.”
Screams tore from Castiel’s body as Lucifer slowly and deliberately tore his grace from him. He ripped and hacked, piece by slow tortuous piece, till there was nothing left.
Lucifer stood over the slumped, bloodied form of Castiel, an almost triumphant smile on his lips. “You fought for them brother. Let’s see if they will fight for you. I will defeat Michael, one way or another.” He looked down at the horseman rings he held and his smile broadened.
.........................................
June 2010...
Michael’s voice thundered in Dean’s head forcing him to his knees. He clasped his hands over his ears though it made no difference. Even though this was a dream, the power of Michael throbbed around him. “Enough!” Dean yelled. “I’ll do it,” he added quieter, his voice breaking. The light that had been surrounding him dimmed as it coalesced into a shape before him. Michael appeared to Dean in the form of his own father, John, perhaps to elicit sympathy, maybe just because the human was unable to perceive his true form.
“Yes? After all this time, you called me here to say yes?” Michael questioned with his father’s voice, that wasn’t quite his father’s voice at the same time.
“Yes, alright? But I have a condition,” Dean answered without looking up. He hated himself for doing this but there was no other way. He couldn’t live with the consequences if he didn’t.
“I’m sure you do,” Michael said with a wry smile.
“You can wear me to the prom, but only if you bring him back.”
Michael’s brow creased in confusion. It wasn’t the request he was expecting. “Bring who back?”
................................................
“Dean?” Sam queried though he could already see that it wasn’t. “Michael,” he said with a sharp edge in his voice.
“Hello Sam.” Michael answered.
Michael studied Sam as a flurry of emotion raced across his face. Sam had known Dean had gone off to do something stupid when he disappeared from Bobby’s last night. He sighed as he looked into Dean’s eyes and saw nothing of his brother there. He couldn’t quite find it in himself to be angry.
Sam knew that Dean blamed himself for Castiel being lost in hell. They didn’t even really know what had happened to him. Some demons they had come across had thrown some taunts at Dean about what had happened to Castiel, but they didn’t know if they were true. Whatever it was it wasn’t good. If Castiel had been able to, he would have returned to them.
Dean hadn’t spoken a word about what had happened. He had been gruffer then usual ever since though. He had been withdrawn. Bobby and Sam had been doing their best to bring him out of it, but nothing had worked. The apocalypse was still raging, and they were running out of options.
Sam sighed again, and looked Michael square in the eyes. “Why are you here Michael?”
“I just thought we should meet. “
“Why?”
“You can’t fight...”
“What destiny?” Sam interrupted. “I’ve heard this crap before. Screw you!”
“Sam why fight it? Dean has already said yes. He saw that this, in the end, is the only way.” Michael said softly.
“I know why my brother said yes. He didn’t do it for you or your petty squabble with Lucifer. But you’re not even capable of understanding why he did it are you? You never will.” Sam spat the words at Michael, turned and walked away.
.....................................................
Michael stood in an empty field staring blankly at the blue sky overhead. His thoughts were filled with his vessel’s memories, and the words Sam Winchester had just thrown at him. These two human brothers who had frustrated, infuriated him so much, yet he couldn’t shake their thoughts. Many of Michael’s brothers looked down on the humans as flawed creations of their Father. He himself had been guilty of that, but he found himself wondering if he had been wrong. They had so many flaws, but there was also so much more.
He shrugged his vessels shoulders, such a strange sensation being contained like this. These brothers were so maddening, yet their emotions were so strong. They had so much love for one another, even if it was tied up with so much complexity, so much confusion. It was there none the less, so strong that it consumed him. A love he found himself missing when thinking of his own brothers who had become so lost.
Sam had refused Lucifer, and would likely continue to out of love for Dean. He had see in Sam’s eyes that he didn’t blame Dean for saying yes, that he understood why Dean had done it. Michael was just beginning to understand himself. Dean, in the end, had done it for love. He had done it to save Sam, but also more confusingly, to save Castiel, an angel. This human had reached his breaking point due to the sacrifice of one of Michael’s brothers. Castiel had sacrificed everything to save Dean, and now Dean seemed determined to do the same for Castiel.
.........................................
Michael stood in the depths of hell. He flexed his vessels muscles. It had been so long since he had existed in this fashion that the sensation felt strange. He was here to fulfil the request his vessel, Dean Winchester, had demanded before he said yes. He was still musing over that request. He had expected Dean to ask for the salvation of Sam, perhaps a few other humans he felt attached to, but not this. Sure, Dean had asked for those things, as well. However, his first request had been simple. Bring him back. Bring Castiel back from hell.
Now that he possessed the Winchester, he sorted through his memories, a tumbled mess of human emotion. There were a few that he found truly curious. It was these memories that had given him the strangest of thoughts. Perhaps there was another way of dealing with Lucifer.
However, first he would find his other brother, the one who had sacrificed himself for Dean. Though he doubted Dean understood just what Castiel had sacrificed yet. That was a consequence he couldn’t undo. Both Dean and Castiel had chosen their paths, the consequences were theirs to deal with. He would bring Castiel back from hell, but would Castiel ever really be able to escape hell? Or would it follow him?
He was still musing on this thought when he found Castiel. He knelt beside his brother’s broken body. He reached a hand out and brushed a strand of hair back from his forehead and gently lifted Castiel, cradling his head against his chest. His power seeped into him and healed Castiel’s numerous wounds. He stayed still staring gently at his brother’s face. Castiel’s breathing was now deep and regular, though he was still unconscious.
He wasn’t sure why but he came to a decision. He would finish what Dean had started. He wouldn’t fight Lucifer and bring on paradise. The cage that had contained Lucifer for thousands of years, could serve that purpose again. Perhaps it was time to stop interfering with humans.
He looked at Castiel one last time. Thoughts tried to edge their way into Michael’s mind but they were unfamiliar. Michael wiped distractedly at his cheek, staring at the salty wetness his fingers found. He frowned as he tried to understand.
............................................
Dean collapsed to his knees, his legs seemingly incapable of holding him upright. He looked around; he was in the midst of a blast zone, trees flattened in a radiating pattern from where he knelt, an all too familiar sight. He closed his eyes as he tried to regain his senses. Michael’s last words still echoed in his head. “I’m sorry, Dean there is nothing I can do for him. Lucifer didn’t just strip his grace form him he destroyed it.” His last words had seemed hesitant, as if he had wanted to say, or maybe do more. “I’m...sorry.” Then he had been gone and Dean had been in control of his body once more.
Michael had ended the apocalypse. It was over. The thought seemed so unlikely Dean still wasn’t sure he believed it. He opened his eyes, memories of the last few days slowly filtered back into his recently vacated mind. As he did his gaze fell upon the prone form before him. Castiel.
He scrambled over to where Castiel lay, placing a hand gently on his shoulder and rolling him over. Castiel moaned as he slowly gained consciousness. He was alive. He was, human.
A storm of emotion threatened to overwhelm Dean. He closed his eyes once more, the image of Michael lifting Castiel’s broken body and cradling him to his chest flashed briefly in his mind. It was all so hazy.
Dean was startled by Castiel’s voice.
“Dean?” His voice crackling as if he’d forgotten how to use it.
Dean opened his eyes and studied Castiel’s face. He didn’t know what to say.
“Cas it’s over,” he stated for want of anything better.
Castiel struggled to his feet, angrily throwing off Dean’s attempt to help.
Castiel gave a broken and harsh chuckle. “Over? Really?”
“Michael threw Lucifer back in his cage. It’s over.”
“I’m happy things worked out so well for you. You got everything you wanted.” Castiel all but snarled in Dean’s face.
“Cas, I’m sorry.” Dean reached out again to help steady Castiel as he swayed, unsteady on his feet.
“I don’t want your help. I don’t want anything from you,” he growled, glaring at Dean with such anger that Dean took a step back.
“Cas, I’m sorry,” Dean repeated, knowing he could never be sorry enough. “I should never have...You should have...” he stumbled not sure how to express his whirling emotions.
“Good bye Dean.” Cas said simply as he turned to walk away.
“Cas.” Dean grabbed his shoulder and turned him back to face him. He was startled by the raw anger and immense pain he saw in Castiel’s eyes. They were a pit of such intense hopelessness, despair and rage. So unlike anything he had seen in them before.
“Goodbye Dean.” Castiel said with such finality that Dean in his shock could do nothing but watch, as Castiel walked away without a backward glance, leaving him alone.
September 2010...
Dean woke from his dream, suppressing a scream. He was sweating and shaking slightly. It was the same dream he had every night. Castiel reaching out to touch him on the forehead with two fingers. He would watch as Castiel turned to face Lucifer before everything turned white as Castiel’s touch hurtled him out of hell. He reached for the bottle of whisky by his bed and gulped down several mouthfuls, trying to wash away the image, but it would never fade. It haunted him. He had failed the one person who had never failed him, and Castiel had paid a price too heavy for Dean to live with.
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Sam woke early in the morning, the sky just starting to lighten with the pre dawn glow. He rolled over in bed still groggy with sleep to see Dean sitting at the table with his laptop. Sam’s thoughts began to collect themselves as he took in the brooding look, the half empty bottle of whiskey and the dark circles under his eyes telling off yet another restless night. He was worried about Dean, had been for some time, but he merely sighed knowing that asking him about it would only lead to another argument.
It was getting to the point where Sam felt he had to push his brother into facing his nightmares. He knew it wouldn’t be pretty, and knowing Dean he would quite likely end up with little more than a fist in the face, but he had to do something. The apocalypse was over and Sam had thought that would mean less angst in their life, but he guessed he had failed to take into account the emotional fallout.
Sam still didn’t really know exactly what had happened between Dean and Cas. He had heard bits and pieces of the story, enough to have some idea of what was troubling Dean so much. He didn’t know how to help just yet, but he decided he couldn’t wait any longer. Anything had to better than watching his brothers suffering.
Sam watched his brother that night. They were in yet another motel, Sam could barely remember the name of the town. Dean took yet another swig of whiskey straight from the bottle. He seemed determined to ignore Sam, but he kept pushing. “Dean, you can’t keep going like this, either you tell me what’s wrong or it’s going to eat you from the inside out.” Dean merely continued to scowl at the wall behind Sam’s head, refusing eye contact. He was drunk, but it didn’t seem as though the alcohol could drown out Sam’s questions.
“Dean,” Sam prompted for the umpteenth time. He reached over and grabbed the bottle from Dean forcing him to look at him.
“Damn it Sam, just drop it.”
“No, Dean, not this time.”
“What the hell do you want me to say? That I fucked everything up, that I always seem to screw everyone over, that I started the damn apocalypse and royally fucked up ending it, too?” Dean started ranting. Sam sat back in his chair, it was the most Dean had said all night, or months for that matter.
“Dean, it’s over, you didn’t fail.” Sam tried to comfort him, but it only served to push Dean over the edge.
“No, Sammy, I did. I tried to end it on my own so no one else would get caught up in this curse that seems to follow me, but I fucked it up, and Cas had to save my sorry ass. That stupid, son of a bitch saved me instead of just leaving me there to rot like he should have. Lucifer ripped his grace out because of me and there’s no going back, no fixing that. It’s all fucked up because of me, Sammy, don’t you get it?” Dean stood unsteadily and picked his chair up throwing it across the room. “Because of me!” he screamed.
.....................................................
December 2010...
Castiel held the envelope as he did every night. He finally opened it and read it again, even though he knew its contents by heart. It was nothing fancy, just a few short sentences straight to the point in Sam’s handwriting, and a phone number. As he did every night, he stared at the number and drank. And, just as every other night, he shoved the letter back in the envelope and threw it on the desk, and drank until he passed out on the bed.
...............................................
The early morning sun shining on his face woke him, he rolled over grumbling but couldn’t get back to sleep. Not that sleep was any better, only nightmares awaited him there. He grudgingly opened his eyes and stared at the grimy ceiling. Another day in this miserable existence.
He knew he was wallowing in his own misery, but didn’t know how to stop. He had asked Dean once how he managed to deal with everything life had thrown at him; he still didn’t have an answer. Thinking of Dean only made him sigh, guilt mingling in with his misery. He had left Dean and Sam the day Michael had brought him back from hell. At least he had brought back the fragile, flawed and broken human that Lucifer had left him as.
He knew Dean had felt responsible, but he couldn’t deal with that. The last words he had spoken to Dean were harsh and angry. He didn’t know why, he hadn’t blamed Dean, not really, but had felt so much helplessness and pain at the hands of Lucifer he hadn’t wanted to face it, face Dean and Sam or anything. He had lashed out at Dean because there was no one else to lash out to. He had just wanted to forget, had drowned himself in booze but nothing seemed to dim his memories.
There had been a time when he would have sacrificed everything for Dean, to stop the apocalypse, even if that had meant becoming human, but in the end the choice hadn’t been his. Lucifer had ripped his grace from him piece by piece in hell. Had used his suffering to break Dean. An unconscious moan escaped his throat as the memories of that threatened to yet again consume him. He reached for the ever ready bottle of alcohol, but it was empty, he threw the bottle across the room.
He had left the motel room with every intention of finding somewhere to buy more alcohol, even if it was five in the morning. However, he had ended up here, sitting on a bench in a park. He watched as the morning sun crept over the tree tops. Watching patterns swirling gently in the morning mist, he mind was transfixed by the sunlight as it streamed through the trees, caught by the unexpected beauty. An emotion played at the edge of his consciousness, he wasn’t quite sure what it was.
He head gently tipped to the side as the sun gently caressed his skin, his eyes closed, its warmth seeming to soak into him. As he breathed in the cool fresh morning air, he put a name to that almost unfamiliar emotion. Peacefulness. He was unaware of it but a hint of a smile touched his lips.
He sat there for hours. Random thoughts and memories swirling in his mind. The peace of the park was disturbed by the laughter of two children as they ran from the car park to the swings. Castiel watched them for a moment, so innocent and unaware, he thought he might envy them for a second, but couldn’t quite bring himself to.
He may have had his grace stripped from him against his will, but he knew even if he had known it would end like this, he would still have made the same choices. He stood and slowly walked back to his motel, his choices had led him here, now how he dealt with the consequences of those choices was up to him. It was time to face his nightmares.
His steps were heavy with weariness, but far more determined then they had been since his return from hell. He still wasn’t sure what to do next, how to pull the pieces of his life back together. He subconsciously shrugged his shoulders. Maybe a shower would be a good place to start. A smile tugged at his lips, it was as good a place as any.
............................................
February 2011...
Sam watched as his brother sat moodily staring out the window, as he so often did these days. It had been months since Dean had vented all his anguish and guilt in the motel room. He had raged for what seemed like hours until he was spent and had collapsed. It had been the only time Sam could remember Dean let himself be comforted. Sam had sat by his side on the floor for hours. He had been totally spent both physically and emotionally, yet he had shed only a single tear. The next morning he didn’t say a word to Sam, but from that day he had slowly come back to himself, if not quite the old Dean at least more settled, and sober.
Dean’s phone began to ring and he reached sluggishly over to pick it up, his brow furrowing at the unknown number. He answered and Sam watched his breath catch in his throat, as he heard the muffled voice on the other end ask, “Dean?” A hint of a smile touched Sam’s lips as he turned away to give his brother privacy. “Cas?” Dean answered.
...................................................
Sam stayed inside the motel while Dean waited outside, leaning against the Impala. Another car pulled up in the parking lot, Sam studied the man that got out. It was a far different man to the one he had last seen in a motel room months earlier. His hair, while unruly, was washed and clean. He had a hint of stubble, his blue eyes bright and clear. The inner demons that plagued him that last time seemed more settled, if not completely gone. There was still a weariness about him, in the creases of his face and the depths of those blue eyes. Sam smiled at the familiar coat that he wore, though it was now over the top of a t-shirt and faded, worn jeans.
He may have lost his grace but there was still something undefinable about him, a strength that may be a bit more brittle, but that still almost shone out of him. His age still showed in his eyes, they almost burned with knowledge unknowable to most humans. There was a stillness about him. Sam turned away as Castiel walked up to Dean, unwilling to intrude further on this long overdue reunion.
“Hello Dean.” Castiel said simply.
Dean studied Castiel’s face looking for all the blame and anger he expected. He saw none, but he still felt the familiar twinge of guilt he had carried with him for the better part of a year. “Cas I’m sor...”
“Dean no. I don’t blame you. It was my choice.” Castiel said gently, concern in his eyes as he saw the pain in Dean’s. He reached out and placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder.
“I never blamed you.”
Dean looked away but Castiel still saw the tears in his eyes. He wasn’t quite sure whether they were from relief, guilt, or some other myriad of emotions that seemed to always run just beneath the surface. Though Dean always seemed able to hide his emotions and vulnerability from others, Castiel had always been able to see them.
He caught Dean’s eyes with his own. “I’m sorry I left.”
A hint of a fragile smile crept onto Deans’ face, and this time Castiel was sure it was relief in Dean’s eyes, as though a weight was starting to lift. Castiel smiled back.
Dean was almost startled by the first genuine smile of Castiel’s he had ever seen. His smile broadened and he placed his hand on Castiel’s shoulder. They merely looked at each other, words seeming insignificant.
.............................................
2014...
It had been almost five years since the apocalypse had ended. Sam mused on the changes he saw in his brother and Castiel as they sat across the booth from him. The pain and anguish of those events seemed a distant memory. Not forgotten, it never could be, but accepted. He paid the bill, and the three men got up and walked outside.
They said their goodbyes, no longer full of angst but only fondness. Sam watched as Dean and Cas walked down the street towards the Impala. Dean’s head tilted slightly towards Cas to hear something he said, a smile lighting up his face. A smile touched Sam’s lips as he noticed the way their shoulders brushed as they walked, the way their eyes constantly found each other. The smile broadened as Dean tossed Cas the keys to the Impala. Who would have ever thought?
He thought neither of them was ever likely to settle down. They lived in the Impala and whatever motel they came across, hunting if they came across a job otherwise just wandering the country. The life suited them, they had found home.
Sam shrugged, shifting the weight of the bag he carried. With one last glance at the two men chatting and smiling as they climbed into the Impala he turned, glancing at his watch as he walked away. He was late, his class started soon.