Castiel rolled down the window of his beat up Toyota, letting the refreshing October air fill the car and calm his rampant nerves. He wasn't sure if he was ready to do this, but he had absolutely no intentions of turning back. Not after he had driven all this way. And not after so long.
Maybe he should have called ahead? The thought had occurred to him, but he had ultimately decided against it. He didn't want their first meeting in eight years to be over a phone. They had never communicated that way before, so why should they now? But the closer he got, the more Castiel began to doubt himself. What if he had moved on, maybe found someone else? The thought made a cold, bitter jealousy clench in Castiel's gut, and he dismissed the thought instantly. But he knew it was very likely. Eight years was a long time, after all. Or what if he was still single, but he just slammed the door in Castiel's face? Not that Castiel would blame him.
It was Castiel's fault, after all. He had been the one who chickened out, leaving Dean behind without so much as a goodbye. It was all too much, too overwhelming and painful for him, and he had run away with no notice. He would have left without any form of goodbye to anyone if it hadn't been for his own sentimentality.
He had rushed around his house, collecting everything he couldn't do without. Eventually, under a pile of clothes on his dresser, he had found a tiny photo album. He had forgotten about it, but he remembered what it was the moment he saw it. He opened it, almost reverently, and looked through the photos it was stuffed full of. They went back to when he and Dean were still using training wheels and playing detectives in the backyard. Castiel had flipped through each page of pictures, eyes stinging with unshed tears as the pictures got steadily more recent. One of him and Dean at a baseball game (which Dean had practically dragged him to), another of Dean posing next to the Impala (covered in grease and wearing a smug grin), and even one of them sitting on the swinging chair on the back porch (Dean holding out the camera in front of them, free arm wrapped around Castiel's shoulders, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek while Castiel smiled at the camera).
When Castiel had seen a single tear fall onto the page below him, he had practically slammed the book shut. His heart was seizing up and he didn't want to move. He began to second guess himself. Maybe he should say a proper goodbye? But the thought made his heart ache even more, and he decided against it. He had his reasons for leaving this way, and there was no way he could manage to say everything that needed saying in person. He stuffed the photo album into his backpack and continued packing his things.
Five minutes later, he was finally ready to go. He had no one at home to say goodbye to, since it had just been him and Gabriel until the day before. Gabe had moved out, said now that his brother was out of his hair, he was gonna travel and see the world. Castiel smiled at the thought. His brother could be a pain in the ass, but he had still raised Castiel, and he was going to miss him.
He drove over to Dean's house, parking on the street out front. It was already 1:00am, so he knew Dean would be sound asleep by now. Even so, he made sure to be quiet while he opened his car door and walked up the front path, holding an envelope tightly in his right hand.
When he reached the front door, he kneeled and wedged the envelope under it, pushing it through until it popped out on the other side. He was starting to stand back up when, to his horror, another car pulled into the driveway. Castiel could do nothing but stand and stare as Sam stepped out, and he cursed himself for taking the extra time with the photos. If he had left sooner, he could have avoided this.
"Cas?" Sam called out in confusion. Castiel shushed him desperately, and finally managed to work up enough strength to run over to him.
"Cas what are you doing here so late? And why are you just standing outside? You didn't lose your key, did you? Cause we've got a couple extras inside and–"
"Sam," Castiel interrupted in a sad but fond voice. "I've still got my key, but... I wasn't planning on going inside."
Sam just stared at Castiel with a blank look, clearly waiting for further explanation. Castiel sighed, but acquiesced. Perhaps it was all for the best if someone heard it directly from him. "I'm leaving, Sam." Sam's eyes widened, and Castiel lowered his own out of guilt. But Sam said nothing yet, so Castiel could finish explaining. "I have to leave by the end of the week anyway. I mean, it's not like Dean can come with me to college. And I can't go with him, so..." Castiel faltered.
"So it'll just be more painful for both of you if you say goodbye in person?" Sam asked, finally understanding the situation.
Castiel nodded dejectedly, and Sam sighed in frustration. "You know that's bullshit, right Cas?"
Castiel's head shot up and he met Sam's eyes in surprise. "What?"
"It'll be worse for both of you if you just leave with no explanation, you've gotta know that."
"I left him an explanation!" Castiel exclaimed, cringing when his voice got dangerously close to shouting. Lowering it again, he continued, "I left him a letter. It says everything I need to tell him."
"And saves you the trouble of being a man and saying goodbye to his face!" Sam was obviously getting more upset by the second.
Castiel felt anger overtaking his guilt, and he had to stop himself from shaking Sam. "Don't you get it?" he demanded. "I can't say goodbye to him because I won't be able to resist his offer again!"
Sam's resentful expression flickered, and again he said nothing. So Castiel decided to let the whole truth out. "Of course he didn't tell you about it ... But he's told me two times already that if I want him to, he'll abandon everything to come with me. To stay with me... Obviously I told him no each time. He's needed here, it's been his dream since we were toddlers to help Bobby run the shop, like your father used to, and maybe even own it someday, and... I can't take that away from him. But I know that if I stick around, he'll ask me again, and I won't be able to say no this time. I'm not that good of a person..." Castiel said the last bit with a mirthless smile that didn't come anywhere close to reaching his eyes.
There was silence between them for a few seconds, but then Sam spoke up again, this time with a more gentle tone. "Why does it have to be over between you two, though? I mean, I know you'll be pretty far away, but–"
"England, Sam. That's not just a couple hours away by car, that's across an ocean. Long-distance relationships just don't work, especially not with that large of a distance. And... it's gotta be all or nothing. I'll go insane if all I get is a couple phone calls and letters. And I can't keep him chained to me, make him wait... So either I set him completely free or I selfishly take him with me, and you know as well as I do what the only real option is."
Sam looked as if he wanted to say something, anything, to change Castiel's mind, but it was clear from his continued silence that he finally understood where Castiel was coming from. "But what will I tell Dean?" he eventually asked.
"You won't need to tell him anything. I explained everything in the letter." Sam's eyes began to glisten, and Castiel wasted no time in pulling him into a crushing hug. The fourteen year old boy was already much taller than Castiel, and he was nearly enveloped in Sam's tearful embrace.
"Will you come back?" Sam asked in a tiny voice.
"Yes. Someday I will. Hopefully soon."
Sam pulled back, hope shining out through his tears. "And if things are different then?"
Castiel smiled, trying his best to lift Sam's spirits. "If your brother will still have me, then maybe my decision will have changed."
Castiel gave Sam one last squeeze, and they exchanged goodbyes, before he walked back down the front path to his car. Once he was in the driver's seat, he glanced back at Sam. He was waving, and so Castiel waved back before driving off.
For eight long years, Castiel studied at Oxford. He was diligent, focused, and dependable, and one of their best and brightest English students. After the first year, he lived off campus with his cousin Balthazar, whose jokes and attitude reminded him almost painfully of Gabriel sometimes.
And he missed Dean more every day. After two years, be began to realize that he might have made a terrible mistake. He didn't regret his decision to make Dean stay behind. But he deeply regretted the way he had left. He shouldn't have let his worry over Dean persuading him to change his mind stop him from letting them say goodbye. But he couldn't change the past, and now it was too late. And Castiel couldn't bring himself to apologize over a phone. There was a good chance Dean wouldn't even want to speak with him, and this possibility, as well as the problem that no matter what he said, he and Dean would still be separated, was what kept Castiel from attempting any contact with Dean.
He frequently thought back on his letter. He hoped that it would be enough to help Dean forgive him, but he couldn't be sure. And of course he expected nothing, but every time he looked through their bills, he kept up a small spark of anticipation for a letter, a postcard, anything from Dean. Of course, nothing ever came. After all, Castiel had never even known Balthazar's address before moving, so there was no real possibility of receiving anything, not even from Gabriel. But that didn't mean, despite what he had told Sam, that he couldn't quietly hope.
After he finished school, Castiel decided immediately that he would go back to America. He was sure there would be plenty of opportunities for a young writer there, and he would finally be able to see Dean again. He needed to apologize for what had happened, and do everything in his power to fix what he had broken. He had never stopped loving Dean, and he wanted nothing more than to find some way to deserve him again.
And that was how he had ended up here, driving down the bustling Lawrence streets to where he knew Singer's Auto Repair was. His hands were clammy and almost shaking, both from nerves and excitement, and it only got worse as he pulled into the lot.
He walked quickly to the front door and stepped into the quiet office. A familiar shaggy head was bent over the desk, scribbling something in a notebook, and Castiel recognized him instantly. He might have grown another few inches and bulked up a bit, but it was definitely Sam.
When Castiel began walking over, the man looked up and began to say, "I'm sorry, but we're close–," before he apparently realized who was standing in front of him and his jaw dropped.
"C– Cas? You're back?" Sam asked in clear disbelief.
"Hello, Sam," Castiel said with a hesitant smile.
Sam understandably seemed at a loss for words, but he ran around the desk and pulled Castiel into a warm, yet slightly painful hug. Castiel returned the hug with just as much strength, and Sam pulled away almost a minute later with tears streaking down his cheeks. At first, Castiel assumed they were tears of joy, but he soon realized that Sam wasn't smiling. "Sam, what's wrong?" Castiel asked, apprehension beginning to creep up on him.
Sam pursed his lips and shook his head back and forth, the sorrow in his eyes now plain to see. Fear fully rooting in his chest, Castiel grabbed Sam's shoulders in a vice-like grip and met his eyes. "What's wrong?"
Sam looked back at him, staring blankly as if he was trying to search for the right words, and after seemingly finding them, he said, "Dean, he... He's gone."
Castiel's brain began scrambling for all possible explanations. He hopefully settled on the best, yet most unlikely one, and began to desperately ramble. "You mean he left? Where did he go? That's okay, I don't mind driving a bit more–"
"Cas!" Sam stopped him. Castiel's mouth shut with an audible click, and he knew what words were going to come out of Sam's mouth even before he had started speaking them. "He's dead, Cas. Dean is dead. I'm... I'm so sorry..."
Every fiber of Castiel's being violently rejected what Sam was saying. He took his hands off Sam's shoulders and folded them protectively across his chest. "No, that's not possible." He began shaking his head, mirroring Sam's earlier movements, and despite the string of nonono running through his head, tears began to well up and spill out over his cheeks. "That can't be, I came back for him, he was supposed to still be here, maybe married or hating me but what you're saying is just not... It's not..." Castiel's voice broke, and he began shaking, eyes wide and lost. Sam pulled him into another embrace, repeating quiet "I'm sorry's" over and over through his own silent tears. Castiel broke down in heart wrenching sobs. He clung to Sam like a lifeline, the constant nonono's on a loop in his head.
Neither Castiel nor Sam knew how long they stood there, clinging to each other for support, but Castiel finally managed to pull back and scratch out one word in a rough voice. "How?"
"Car accident. About seven months ago. He... he got hit by a drunk driver and..." Fresh tears started to fall, and Sam stopped talking.
Castiel didn't know what to do. He was at a loss, hopeless, confused, and more than anything, heartbroken. He felt like there should be some way out of this, because obviously Dean couldn't just be gone. That wasn't how it was meant to be. There must be some mistake, some way Castiel could rewind time and fix everything. But he knew, even if he might never accept it, that this wasn't true. And worst of all, it was his fault. If he had just agreed to Dean's plan, let him come to England with him, this never would have happened. Dean would be here with him, they would be visiting Sam together, and Castiel wouldn't feel the weight of the world settling squarely on his shoulders.
"And Cas, he... Dean didn't die right away. They brought him to the hospital first and he died during surgery. He was conscious for a little while. And... he wrote something. Told me to give it to you. Of course, I told him that he would be able to give it to you himself, but..." Sam angrily rubbed at his face as more tears began to surface, but he didn't let them stop him from finishing what he had to say. As he walked back behind the desk and opened one of the drawers, he finished, "I wanted to send it to you, let you know what happened, but I didn't have your address, not even your phone number... Here it is." Sam pulled out an envelope from the desk, and Castiel reached out a shaking hand to take it from him. He walked across the room and sat in one of the chairs lined up against the window, opening the envelope gingerly so as not to rip it. Another sob slipped out when he saw Dean's messy, still familiar scrawl. And he began to read:
"Cas,
If you're reading this, than I'm already dead. (I never actually thought I'd get to write that. It's not nearly as satisfying as it looks on TV.)
I wish I could be telling you these things in person, but this is the next best thing, so I guess it'll have to do.
First off, I know you're gonna blame yourself for this. But promise me you won't hate yourself for the accident or for anything. There is nothing you could have done, and I need you to know that this isn't your fault. I don't blame you for a thing, Cas. Not one thing. So just you remember that.
Second, I understand why you left. I'm not gonna lie, I was pissed at first. Pissed and hurt and so caught up in thinking you didn't want me, that I completely missed why you left in the first place. I get it now though, I really do. You were trying to let me go, because you didn't want to take away my dream. But the truth is that you were a bigger dream for me than some stupid auto shop ever could have been. That sounds way cornier than I'd planned, but I mean every word of it. And I'm so sorry I didn't tell you that sooner, Cas. I just wish you had told me about all this in person, but I also know that you were right. There was no way I was ever gonna let you leave without me.
And lastly, Cas, I wanna tell you that I love you. I know I never said it much, but I hope you know I meant it when I did. And I miss you. I think about you all the time, probably more than I should. You have no idea how many times I thought about buying a plane ticket and finding you, address or no address. But I never did, because I knew how hard it must have been for you to decide what you did, and I didn't want to make it any worse by showing up at your doorstep after all you had done to let me stay here in the first place. It hurt to let you go, and waiting actually hurt even more. But I did wait, Cas. And I'm glad I did, cause it would've been a real waste of time to go looking. There never would have been anyone else anyway.
I should've done this ages ago. But better late than never, right? Oh, and before you start regretting all the things you didn't get to say, I already know that you love me and miss me. And I can practically hear you apologizing in my head, so don't worry about not telling me in person.
I'm so grateful I knew you, Cas. And I don't regret a second of it.
I'll see you soon. (But not too soon, ok?)
Dean"
Castiel stared at the paper in front of him for a full minute after he was done reading. He vaguely realized that there were tears still clinging to his cheeks, but he barely noticed anything except the words in front of him.
And that the massive weight on his shoulders was shrinking.
Leave it to Dean to be able to predict every little regret Castiel had, and find a way to answer all of them with one letter. Not that the pain was gone. Castiel knew it would never disappear entirely, and parts of the letter had made it flare up sharply. But the relief this gave him was better than he could have possibly hoped for.
Castiel eventually folded the letter up and gently slid it back into its envelope. When he looked up at Sam, he was sitting behind the desk with his face buried in his hands. "Sam?" Castiel called over. Sam looked up through his fingers, and Castiel was thankful to see that the tears had stopped.
"It's going to be okay."
Instead of looking surprised like Castiel had assumed he would, Sam smiled, sad but genuine.
"I had a feeling that would help." Sam was noticeably relieved. He rubbed his hands over his face a few more times in an attempt to remove any remnants of tears. Suddenly, Sam dropped his hands and met Castiel's eyes.
"He was driving the Impala when it happened," Sam said. "It was totaled. After Dean... Well, I've been trying to fix it up for him. He'd never let me hear the end of it if I left his baby like that." Sam smiled bitterly. "Bobby volunteered to help, get it done faster. I wanted to do it myself though."
Castiel nodded, touched by what Sam had said, but still wondering about his reasoning for bringing this up. "But I was thinking..." continued Sam, "I'd like you to help me. If you want to. I don't think Dean would have trusted anyone with it as much as he would have with you."
Castiel's eyes lit up, barely noticeable, but enough to get a tiny yet genuine smile to appear on Sam's face. "Yes. I'll help. Of course." Castiel replied, hands wiping furiously at his damp eyes and cheeks. He steeled himself, refusing to cry again, at least not in front of Sam, and then asked, "Where is she?"
Sam's smile grew slightly, and he gestured for Castiel to follow him. He led him through the side door into the shop. At the back, there was a covered car. Sam lifted the cover, revealing the Impala. It had been repaired in certain places, but the damage was still severe. And Castiel noticed, with a sick feeling in his stomach, that Dean had been hit directly from the left side of the car.
Sam waited while Castiel walked around the car. The damage was mostly on the left side of the car, and if he stood on the right side, he could still visualize how beautiful it used to be. And still was.
Finally, Castiel looked up at Sam and asked, "Where do we start?"
And when Castiel finally returned Sam's smile, they knew that even with the pain they were both feeling so acutely at the moment, neither of them were alone. They had each other to lean on, and maybe with time, everything really would be okay.