Yes, too an End 'verse tale

by sandymg

Dean isn’t Dean. Cas isn’t Cas. And the world is kinda over. One-shot. Sequel to Yes.

Fanfic: Yes, too (An End 'verse tale)
Author: sandymg
Beta: Borgmama1of5, editor extraordinaire. All mistakes are mine.
Summary: Dean isn't Dean. Cas isn't Cas. And the world is kinda over.
Spoilers: Set in episode 5x04 The End's universe.
Genre: Gen, Angst
Characters: Dean, Cas, OFCs, OMCs
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters. They belong to the CW and Eric Kripke -- who'd best treat them well
A/N: This story has a prequel, called, Yes, which is set in the same End 'verse and deals with how Sam came to say yes to Lucifer. You don't have to read that one first … but they do work as a pair

Yes, too

He thought he'd know if his brother's heart stopped beating. It was his blood after all. Seemed impossible that he wouldn't feel it. Didn't matter how long it'd been since they last spoke. He'd known before. Didn't even need to hear that last gurgled breath or feel the slackness hit his shoulder with a final bounce. He'd pressed his little brother to his chest begging No but already knew he was gone.

Yet when the news came. When everyone seemed to know but him. When the world ended.

Dean was surprised.

* * *

2012
Camp Chitaqua

Many things came to mind when thinking about a resistance movement. Hand washing wasn't necessarily one of them. Yet some days it seemed that's all they frigging did. They were lucky. Had a doctor in their camp. Poor overworked bastard. Watched his wife slaughter their children. Fun times.

Doc Paul's sanity was barely there. He fit right in. Cas liked him. Well, Cas liked to experiment with his drug stash. And Doc didn't argue. Usually joined him. Dean never partook. Well, had been a while at least. Until today.

Was the end of a very long day. Croats were coming at them from all over. He'd jumped cars and bodies and walls and came about one inch away from becoming a mindless killing machine himself. But they made it. Were all inside. And then Dean looked again at the long scratch on Timmy's arm, the tell-tale tremor of his jaw muscles, the larger-than-normal pupils. Dean glanced at his watch. Been about two hours. He stiffened his spine.

Kid was tall. All legs and arms and shaggy bangs. Dean had avoided him like the plague. But he was always there. Puppy dog eyes and helpful smile. Once when Dean was feeling particularly friendly he asked him "What the fuck are you always smiling at?" Made no difference. Kid looked down, then back up, eyes sad but weak smile still there. "Gotta try," is all he said.

Yeah.

Roberts looked at Dean and nodded toward Tim, eyes questioning. The other man had done this for him once before. But that was her request and it was a while ago. And he'd never let Roberts do it again.

He shook his head no. Was his camp. His responsibility. They were just inside the gate. As good a place as any. He pulled his weapon, turned, shot. Closed his eyes at Timmy's smiling, frozen face. He let Roberts handle burning the body and went straight to Cas's cabin and swallowed whatever pills were lying about. Cas turned around from the woman he was screwing. Not the first time Dean'd seen Cas's lily white ass moving up and down. Without another word Dean left in search of whiskey to top it all off.

Cas found him back in his own cabin. Dean was lying on his bunk watching the dust motes make a pretty dancing pattern in the waning sunlight. Reaching out with a finger he tried to change the pattern, disrupt the dance, make it do something anything else.

"Dean," Cas said.

"Go away." The angel hesitated. Dean looked up at him, took in his tousled hair, warm, probing eyes. "Now." He was trying for harsh but the words came out squishy like mashed potatoes.

Cas ignored Dean's request and sat down on the bed, forcing him to scoot over. Dammit. Why couldn't the angel just take no for an answer once in a while. "I heard about Timmy," Cas said, voice soothing, like a rich scotch.

Dean said nothing. Damn high was just starting to edge off, colors getting duller. Except Cas's eyes. They glowed their usual sapphire blue. Timmy's eyes had been a golden brown, flecked with green. Last he saw them they were darker, like a polished stone. He knew they'd reminded him of his brother's eyes. Except no matter how hard he tried he couldn't picture Sam's eyes any more. Not clearly.

"Don't even have a photo," he slurred.

Cas didn't have to ask of whom because Cas knew everything. Dean's angel lived in his head. He'd stopped letting it bother him too much. Was just the way it was. Used to have a photo of his family tucked into his journal, just like Dad had one tucked into his. But both journals were long gone.

He sat up and Cas put his arm around his shoulder, invited Dean to drop his head and lean on him. Been a long time since Dean'd allowed this. Comfort. Had to be at least a year. Not since Rose. Cas was the glue that held Dean then. Cas and the pills. But the drugs were bad news. Dean knew after tonight he had to go back to the discipline. Was too easy to get lost in the colors and never find the way out.

"You don't always have to be fearless," Cas said. Might have been aloud, might have been in his head. Times like these he didn't always know the difference.

"I treated him like shit," Dean admitted.

"Tim respected you. They all do. They understand. You're not here to coddle them."

Dean let his head rest on Cas's shoulder and thought even his angel didn't always listen because Dean wasn't speaking about Tim. Then Cas ran his hand over Dean's hair and it reminded him of his mother or at least he thought it did because he knew he couldn't really remember her except for a dream a Djinn once gave him.

They sat in silence and Dean watched the colors in the room shift from gold to red to soft gray and the wind make the leaves outside flutter like a bird's or an angel's wings. Dean reached for the bottle and took another long swallow. Once, this much whiskey would have had him passed out. He was tired. Felt his eyes droop. Cas shifted, pressed his lips against Dean's temple and guided him back down.

Dean closed his eyes. The world still sucked but not everyone had their own personal angel and how Dean Winchester rated one was still the world's biggest unsolved mystery. But he was taught never to look a gift horse in the mouth and he let the warmth of Cas's palm against his cheek lull him to sleep.

The doctor stormed in waking him. Bright light assaulted his eyes.

"They're not washing their fucking hands." Another day in Camp Chitaqua.

He looked away from the dust fairies shimmying in the sunlight to the skinny, balding physician. They were lucky to have him. Helped them to die healthier.

"I told 'em to."

"There's another case of TB. We're up to three."

Damn. Wasn't enough that the devil's virus was going to ultimately wipe out humanity? Run of the mill disease had to do it first? Clearly nobody gave a shit anymore. Even Cas had finally stopped looking for God and admitted he'd long past left the universe.

"I'll tell them again."

"You, too. Wash your hands."

"Yes, Mom."

"Screw you."

Mighta been a time he'd have laughed at this. But not today.

The other man lingered at the doorway. Dean could see the inner battle over what to say. Don't, he wanted to shout. Too late.

"Heard about …"

"Yeah. You got anything else?"

"Need something to help you sleep?" Doc asked. "I mean, I remember a year ago, right, with Rose …?"

Dean looked at the nearly empty bottle on the chair next to him. Lifted his eyes to finally meet the other man's. "Don't have trouble sleeping." It's being awake that was the bitch.

When the doctor left, Dean staggered over to the room's small sink. The fact that they still had running water was a miracle onto itself. He ran the cold water over his face. Eyed the man in the mirror. Quite the morning after … stoned, drunk … for a second he imagined his father seeing him looking this way. Old man would have had his hide. Dad. Was best he was long gone. Didn't have to see this. Hell brought to Technicolor all over the Earth. Hell … to think he'd thought that was as bad as anything could ever get.

Timmy's last grin stared back at him through the dirty mirror. Maybe he should have let Roberts do it. The last time, with Rose … really bad idea to go there stone cold sober. But she shimmered into view anyway. Hadn't let a woman get that close since Cassie. There'd been Anna but that wasn't the same. The woman in the mirror winked at him. Ain't no angel, baby.

* * *

Rose was many things but never that. Was way too human to ever be that. So not his type. Tom boy. Short pixie hair. He'd always loved long hair. Pretty much every girl he hooked up with had long hair. Loved to run his fingers through a girl's hair as she rode him. Rose's hair was so short he'd ended up running his fingertips over her scalp.

"What are you doing?" she asked on a giggle. "Feels like you're giving me a shampoo. Like back when there were beauty parlors."

He'd asked her once why she kept her hair short. Her answer had been a shrug.

It was daylight the first time they slept together. A dawn following another very long day. Virus wasn't quite everywhere yet. Government and the military thought they could contain it … still trying to figure it out. She'd joined them with her older brother, Frank. Frank was a former salesman. Slick and cool. Kept it together and spun lies as good as Dean. He called Rose "Kid" and looked out for her and Dean approved and tried to ignore noticing how huge her eyes were in her small face.

But she wasn't a kid, was as old as Dean and held her own with a weapon and with men twice her size by being lithe and quick and they started heading out on missions together, pairing off without any forethought or discussion. She kept to the here and now, hardly mentioned the past, which suited him. She didn't ask questions. Had this almost infinite patience and damn if he just didn't start volunteering things into the silence.

"Sam's your younger brother." Wasn't a question. Woman just knew things. Heard between the words.

"Yeah. Watched out for him. Like Frank does with you."

This got a nod. They'd broken into the grocery story and dragged out what they could to keep their camp alive and silently stacked it onto the back of the truck. He went to help her lift a particularly heavy load but she nudged him away and he watched the contours of the muscles of her slender arms tense under the pressure but she did the job. Always did.

She gulped down water when they were done and he watched it dribble down over her full lips onto her pointy chin and he got this urge to kiss her which was darn unusual because sure, he got the urge to fuck a lot of women but not so much the urge to kiss anyone.

"I'm sorry," she said suddenly. He looked at her puzzled. "About Sam."

There was nothing he could possibly say to this so they just drove back into camp in silence.

Castiel found them the minute they passed the perimeter and Dean knew whatever the angel had to say couldn't be good. Only he was looking for Rose, not him. Without a word being spoken she shuddered and grabbed Dean's hand, squeezing it until he thought he'd bruise. He watched her swallow hard, fight the tears already forming along the bottom lids of her tremendous brown eyes and then she let go.

Arms crossed tight against her chest, she took a loud audible breath. "Can I go see him? Or did you already …?"

"Doc Paul said we couldn't wait," Cas explained. "I'm sorry—"

She interrupted him with a brisk nod.

"I put Frank's things in your cabin," Cas said.

"Thank you."

Rose walked away. Didn't look at Dean. Didn't say another word.

That night he walked into her cabin and answered the question of what her lips tasted like. Didn't go past kissing. Which really told him everything except he wasn't listening. He woke up to a soft tickle on his shoulder and looked down to her graceful sleeping face. She woke then, quick, as he later learned was her way. Bright and alert and smart.

"What did you do before?" he asked her, surprised suddenly that he didn't already know this.

"Stripper."

He gaped at her and she laughed. "I taught Kindergarten."

He didn't say anything. Found himself suddenly choked up and couldn't even look at her. He pictured her surrounded by children, her huge smile brightening the room, face smudged with finger paint …

"Are you disappointed my first answer wasn't true?"

She didn't ask many questions. The ones she did ask were hard to ignore.

The snarky teasing answer sat on the edge of his tongue. "No," he said instead.

She locked her eyes with his, her lips turning up at the edges. "My boobs are too small."

Some invitations were irresistible. He reached out to test her assertion. They fit easily in his hands. Felt just right, in fact. Something he informed her of before losing himself again in lips even fuller than his own.

It had felt good. Scary good. He had held her so close he was afraid he'd hurt her. After that first time he retreated like a turtle back into his shell and immediately found another woman more his type. Long hair, curvier, taller, meaningless. Made sure Rose saw them together. Flaunted it. Rose never said anything. Didn't react. Just waited.

Cas looked at him with that look that spoke disapproval. How the hell Cas even knew he'd slept with Rose was something he didn't want to ponder. Dean hadn't said anything and no way Rose had spoken about it. Damn angel must have been in his mind again.

The other woman was passing through. Left two days later. He forgot her name before she'd even driven away.

Dean walked into Rose's cabin again that night. Didn't apologize. Didn't explain. Didn't even talk. Started kissing her until she was begging him for more, which was funny because inside he was the one pleading. He never thought of Rose as not his type again after this. Her breasts were exactly the right size and her legs were long despite her petite stature and her eyes were possibly the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Because she didn't ask questions he found himself asking them for her.

"Don't you want to know what I did before?"

She looked at him puzzled. "You did this."

Because they'd just made love her words confused him. For a fleeting second he thought she was making a crack about his being a womanizer. But she caught his eyes with hers and continued. "You saved people. Helped them. You did this."

Not much rendered him speechless. And then she uttered her next words, "With your brother."

Anger flared. "You spoke with Cas?"

She pulled back, not quite mad, but not happy at this accusation. "What?! No. Why would I do that?"

"How do you know about …?"

"Dean, the things you know. Didn't come out of nowhere. Obviously you've been fighting evil … fighting this … a long time. And you told me about Sam. That you'd been together until … you weren't … so I just figured … Was I wrong?"

A question.

"No. You weren't wrong."

This satisfied her. She didn't ask anything else. The stillness returned. The sense of now that she offered.

The days continued bloody and cold and savage. Nights fell into a soft routine centered around Rose. The rational part of his brain shouted mistake. Tried to warn him. What are you doing, Winchester? The time to care is long past.

She made love like she lived. No questions asked. He'd never been shy. Had tried it all or so he'd thought. They'd tried some things he'd never even thought of. One night, sweaty, spent happy he turned to her and nuzzled her neck, drinking her in and allowed himself the thought that Sammy would like her. The sheer want of this surprised him and he pulled her closer and fought to shove it all back.

Wasn't possible that she didn't feel him shudder as close as they were. But she didn't ask. Just held on and rode his waves like a surfer skimming the water and he knew then that he goddamn loved her and should tell her but couldn't.

Rose had been out all morning and he was stacking supplies in their makeshift storage area when she came up behind him and tapped his shoulder. He spun around with a smile and she said, "Get Cas."

He looked her over and saw the bandage around her knee. Knew.

"I fell," she said simply.

Simple mission if anything in this life could be called that again. She'd been out on a gas run with Roberts and Ryan and Gonzalez. They'd split up and Rose and Carol Ryan went together to a recently deserted gas station to siphon off whatever they could find. Carol wandered into the mini-mart or what was left of it. She'd shrieked and Rose ran in and there'd been a battle there but it was over, bloody mess left behind, fresh though, bodies barely cold. Floor was slick and Rose slipped, landed on broken glass, tore through her khakis. Carol was quick, washed it out immediately. Told Rose repeatedly it would be fine. That she wasn't infected. That Dean wouldn't allow it because Carol had seen them together, was aware.

Cas watched silently as Doc Paul drew Rose's blood and walked over to his makeshift lab. Dean looked down. Felt Carol and Roberts hovering behind him somewhere. He stood stoic, absently touching the revolver tucked behind his back. Doc's softly uttered "Goddamn" rippled through the group like a current. Rose took his hand, squeezed once and pulled him outside.

They walked silently to her cabin. She stood stone still an endless moment and then exploded. He'd never seen her angry, not really. She trashed every inch of the small room as he stood in the corner and tried to remember how to breathe. Harsh guttural sounds escaped her throat between broken sobs and venomously tossed out curses. It was almost as if the virus was already affecting her, only he knew better.

"Roberts will do it," she said suddenly her voice steadier. "Don't fight me on this. Don't you fucking dare."

Dean said nothing. Kept fingering the gun. Felt himself squeezing it. The fantasy was so sweet he could taste it. Just end it. Rest.

Of course she knew.

"No. You can't." Her eyes filled but tears didn't fall. She stood in front of him, looking up, didn't touch him. Knew enough not to do that either. "I've never asked anything before. I'm asking now. Don't. Please."

And he hadn't. Not physically. Died anyway watching her body burn. Joined Cas and the Doc and took pills in colors he didn't know existed. Life blurred and the body formerly known as Dean Winchester floated through space in a slow, languid spiral. Until he woke up one morning with Cas wrapped around him and another woman whose name he didn't know on his other side and a taste like old vomit running around his mouth. And he didn't know who he fucked last night and it should have revolted him but it didn't.

He left Cas's room and returned to his own and went cold turkey on the pills and stayed away from everyone and went back to doing the job and keeping these people alive and killing them when necessary and washing his hands. Hadn't really taken pills again until today. And Timmy.

* * *

A couple weeks later Chuck rolled in. Dean couldn't say he was glad to see him. But he wasn't displeased either. Was familiar and if he could pick up future warnings he could be helpful. Dean asked Chuck if he'd dreamt anything about the Colt. There had been some wild goose chases based on Cas's visits to Chuck in the past. Never panned out.

"No … but I saw Sam."

Cas had stared at Dean at this revelation but Dean looked Chuck in the eye and said nothing. If the other man had something to say he should just say it.

"In Detroit," Chuck added.

Dean only nodded.

Chuck looked at him oddly. "I thought …Were you there?"

"In Detroit? Fuck no. Would rather go back to hell."

"But … I heard them say … Sam Winchester was with his brother."

Dean startled at this but fought back any outward reaction. Cas touched his arm. The angel had snuck in his head again, dammit. He silently shouted GET OUT and grinned smugly as the smaller man leapt back. He didn't know why anyone thought Sam and he had been together but it wasn't true. A tiny part of him wondered if this was some sort of sign … that maybe … but he squelched this. Was better this way. Oil and water. Nothing had changed.

"I guess I knew it was a mistake when they said you were twins," Chuck said.

Dean snorted. Twins? He and the Sasquatch? Hardly.

Dean asked whether there were any more revelations he cared to share about Dean's future, or Sam's, he tacked on, voice low.

"Just what I said. You were together in Detroit. Well, Sam and his twin brother. Only … the twin was younger. These dreams don't always make sense. Anyway, it ended with an old man that ran a saloon saying that Sam Winchester's heart grew that day and the world would end before it was saved."

Dean stared at Chuck thinking the geek had finally really just lost it. Sounded like some twisted retelling of the Grinch.

"Cas," Dean said, his head back in reality. "Find Chuck a place to sleep and put him to work inventorying the supplies."

Chuck fit in quick enough. Hooked up with Carol who'd gotten tired of Cas's inability to commit and habit of vanishing and endless lingering looks at Dean. She'd run through most of the men in the camp except for Dean who she'd deemed off limits due to her friendship with Rose. Dean was okay with this. Never a lack of warm bodies around as the world crashed and burned. He slept with a few when the mood struck.

Cas seemed more human every day and needed less pills to feel high yet took more of them it seemed. Sometimes he'd come seek out Dean and look at him with those intense hungry eyes and Dean felt a pang of guilt that he was too empty to do anything about it other than the occasional grasp on his arm. But there was nothing to be done because you couldn't squeeze blood from a rock.

Dean was outside with Carol and Daniels and Doc Paul trying to scrounge up antibiotics and painkillers and masks and gloves and sutures and bandages and gauze and topical anesthetics because all the hand washing in the world didn't keep it all away and they were going to have to make an overnight run because they'd already stripped all the nearby medical facilities. Dean hated staying out overnight because the Croats were crazier when the moon was out.

Doc said it wasn't true, that they were equally nuts no matter what time of day but Dean'd seen the crazed gleam in their eyes when the sun went down and couldn't be convinced otherwise. Of course, Doc still believed this was an ordinary virus. The scientist in him unable to accept certain things despite what his eyes told him every day.

This time they'd be trading for pharmaceuticals and scavenging the rest. Dean and Carol just completed the pilfering part of the mission. The hospital was long bereft of medications but still contained enough basic supplies to be worth their while. Doc Paul and Daniels were in town negotiating for the drugs. Nobody outside their camp knew that Paul was a doctor, he'd be in danger if they knew, high risk for kidnapping. They'd gotten too used to calling him 'Doc' but Dean'd leveled a steady glare and warned them all to be careful out of camp.

He'd been waiting for their return thinking it was taking longer than it should have and about to tell Carol that they were heading to search for them when Paul appeared. He said it went well, got what they needed. Daniels stared at him oddly. Dean asked what was up but Paul answered nothing and let's get back.

Dean knew there was something he wasn't saying but trusted the doctor and figured maybe it was just something he didn't need to know. Back at camp they unloaded quickly. Chuck came over and pulled out his clipboard, noting everything before taking the items back to his warehouse for safekeeping. He, too, had looked oddly at Dean but Dean thought everything Chuck did was peculiar so he didn't really pay attention.

Walking back to his cabin he caught several folks talking together and shutting up the minute he passed and Carol wouldn't meet his eyes and suddenly he knew something was up and went in search of Cas.

He found Cas with Doc Paul pouring over their newest pharmaceuticals. Paul looked down then raised his eyes back to Cas. A look passed between them and the little man scurried out without another word.

"What's going on, Cas?" Dean barked.

Cas met his eyes and a pit formed in Dean's stomach. No. Wasn't possible. He'd know. He'd known in Cold Oak even before his brother's head dropped onto his shoulder for a final time. He'd felt Sam's heart stop as if it had been his own.

"You're wrong," he told the angel who stood close and still. "He's not …"

"Dean," Cas said, voice like warm milk. "Sam said yes."

Dean heard the words but they weren't registering because it sounded like Cas said that Sam … Sammy said yes to Lucifer. Like he'd just said the world fucking ended. And yet, here they still were.

"That's not …"

"Yes. It is. I'm sorry. Lucifer has his vessel. Dean … you … must choose now."

Dean looked blankly at the array of pills on the small table near Cas's bed thinking that Cas was asking him which he wanted. Enough to fall asleep and never wake up was the immediate mental reply.

"How do you know?" he asked Castiel.

"I felt it. I felt my brother."

Dean tried not to flinch at this. You don't know me. You never will. He'd called Sam a monster. Made this happen. His legs caved and he slumped onto Cas's bed.

"Dean, it's not your fault."

"I should have … maybe if I'd … How could he …?"

"I don't know, Dean. Chuck foresaw this."

Dean stared at Cas. Yes. Chuck told him. Said that Sam's brother would make the world end.

"No, Dean, you are misunderstanding Chuck's vision. He saw two versions of Sam. He said one returned to you. The other went to Lucifer. The world must end before it can begin."

Cas sat next to Dean on the small bed. "What's that mean?" Dean croaked out. His throat was tight as if something was strangling him from the inside.

Cas looked down, face strained. "I don't know. I'm so cut off I don't have … Dean, now that Lucifer has his vessel his strength is immeasurable. Only … only Michael can defeat him."

Suddenly, Dean understood what Cas was saying. He had to choose. "No. Goddammit, no. I've given enough. Have nothing … nothing left!" He rose, ran out, needed to run and not stop. He got two steps before realizing there was nowhere to fucking go.

Cas caught up with him. The others stared but gave them a wide berth. "Walk with me," Cas said.

They headed into the woods that were part of the campgrounds. Dean imagined small sneakered feet walking along this same path on hot endless summers. Sammy had asked him once, a million lifetimes ago, what summer camp was. He'd told him it was for dweebs, and their summers were way cooler traveling with Dad. But Sammy was smart and he knew what he didn't have. Dean'd asked his father if it were possible to send Sam to camp for a couple of weeks, you know, so he could be a kid.

Dad gave him that sad look that he now understood as pity, maybe guilt, but then only served to unnerve him and explained how expensive camps were and that they didn't have the money but that they'd go find a county fair next town they came to. They'd been to a few fairs over the summers. And he'd shared his cotton candy with his kid brother and told himself this was way better than any silly camp. Sam'd never asked about it again.

They walked in silence a while and stopped to sit on an old fallen tree.

"Where did it happen?" Dean asked Cas, unsure why the answer to this meant anything at all.

"Detroit."

Dean nodded. Remembered Chuck mentioning that city. "Is he alive? Can you … feel Sam inside Lucifer?"

"I don't know. I'm not that connected to my … to Lucifer. Not enough to know this. I know he has his vessel. Everyone felt it."

Dean looked at Cas. He hadn't known. "What do you mean everyone?"

"All of Heaven cried as one. And Michael … Michael sobbed."

"Boo-hoo," Dean cursed out, the words stinging with long-dead hurts, but they were out and couldn't be unsaid.

To change the subject Dean asked, "So if Lucifer won how come nothing's changed? I thought, you know, fire balls and frogs and all the pious folks up and disappearing leaving us sinners to frolic in the remaining cesspool."

Cas looked at him, shifting closer, invading his space as was his way. For the first time in a while Dean thought the angel's eyes looked clear. "The bible is not a manual. Much is wrong. Lucifer having his vessel simply means that he'll wait humanity out. Once his virus clears you from the planet he will have the heaven he's always wanted."

Dean looked at him. "Earth."

Cas nodded. Dean shut his eyes. Imagined Sam, well, Sam's body, roaming alone through the planet. The sheer overwhelming loneliness of that threatened to consume him. He shook the last man on earth scenario away.

"You know, people are like cockroaches. We take a lickin' and keep on kickin'. Hard to kill us all. Always seem to be one more."

"Dean. He is not killing you. You are killing each other." Cas looked at the ground. Kicked up some dirt like it was the first time he'd seen it. "I keep thinking about what Chuck said."

"Yeah?" Dean urged.

"What if … Sam would not have said yes unless it was part of a plan. Your brother was a good man."

Was. Dean fought back a surge of bitterness. Perhaps if Cas had told Sam this earlier then … Shoulda Coulda Woulda. And still the world was fucked. He played along, "What plan? Think Sam was trying to take on Lucie from the inside?" Wouldn't put it past Sam. Sounded like the kind of crazy ass idea he'd come up with.

Cas looked pained again. "Dean … we are sheltered here. The news is scarce. Detroit … I don't think it's a coincidence. The military has pulled out. There's nothing left but Croats."

Dean shuddered. He hadn't heard this. Knew there were areas where … but no city the size of … He met Cas's long look. Invisible information passed between them. It wasn't the only city. "You think Sam just gave up? Couldn't stand what he saw?"

"No Dean. I don't think this. I think Sam did it for … you."

Dean jumped up. "Get the fuck out of here. I never … he had to know I would never, ever want …"

"He wanted you to say yes to Michael. To defeat Lucifer. Save humanity. End the world to save it, Chuck said."

Dean shouted bullshit in his head but he felt a tremor as a part of him wondered maybe. Cas put his hand in his pocket. "I have something for you." He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, folded it in half, held it out.

Dean took it, looked down, read his name written in Sam's slanted handwriting. Felt the tears sting behind his eyes. Touched the ink. Sammy. Why, man? His fingers shook as he held the paper. If this was a final 'screw you' he'd never make it back to camp. Wouldn't want to. Barely wanted to now.

Opening the worn page he read the single word.

"Cas," Dean said, voice breaking.

"It was his final wish." Cas touched his arm, put his hand over his own hand print. "This is the only way to save him."

Dean was crying now but it didn't matter because Cas had seen him cry before. Felt like his heart was fighting to jump out of his chest. He pictured Sam surveying the vast wasteland that once teemed with the life of millions of souls. Alone. Trapped. Dammit, Sammy.

"If I do this … If I battle Lucifer … will I see Sam?"

"You can ask Michael to shield you—" Cas stopped. Understood. "Yes, Dean. You will see him."

Dean swallowed, swiped at his wet eyes, the moisture spreading to the paper still clutched in his hand. "Let's do this," he said voice hard.

Cas stood. His eyes were wet and agonized and so sorry. "Dean, if I could do this for you. If it could be me and not you …"

Dean looked at his friend. He wouldn't be here without Cas. Not just because he'd pulled him from hell. But the thousands of times since that Dean could not have taken another breath without his angel's intervention. It had been a while, he realized then, since he'd seen Cas. The drugs had long laid claim to him. But now he was here. With him.

Eyes breaking, Cas reached out and kissed him and Dean stiffened but didn't stop him. He didn't know if they'd done this before during the times he could hardly remember. Just didn't think it was the worst thing to have something like love be the last thing he'd ever feel as a human.

The paper dropped to the ground as he pulled back from Cas's grip. He read the word one last time, letting it linger on his eyes until it floated away on gossamer wings in the waning light. 'Please'.

Dean shut his eyes and pictured his little brother's face shining with the kind of love that defines a life. On what he thought would be his last deep breath, he looked up at the heavens and said, "Yes."

fin

A/N: This story has a prequel called Yes, which deals with how Sam came to say yes to Lucifer. You don't have to read that one first … but they do work as a pair. Please review ... comments feed the muse.