Day One - Holding Hands
Dean had told them that he was going to grab dinner. But instead, he ended up here, with a bouquet of roses in his unsteady hands, feet squishing in the mud as he crossed the wet grass of the cemetery. It had rained earlier today. It smelled nice, Dean thought.
Sam, Dean, and Cas were investigating a case in Smithboro, Illinois, tracking an insanely powerful demon that had recently emerged from the throes of hell. Sam was hard at work researching or something, and Cas had vanished just before Dean left. He figured he had a little time to spare. It was only about a ten-minute drive from their crappy motel to the graveyard in Greenville, due west of the grocery store Dean had stopped at to grab a couple sandwiches and the flowers. Despite the fact that he had refused to visit it before, Dean knew exactly where to look for the headstone he wanted to see, and before he knew it, he was standing in front of Mary Winchester's grave.
"Hi, Mom," he said quietly, feeling awkward in the silence of the empty cemetery. He looked down at the engraved slab of stone in front of him and tried to swallow back the lump in his throat. He wasn't going to cry, not now. "It's been a while. Thought I'd stop by. Brought you these." Dean placed the white roses on the ground in front of the headstone. "You always liked those ones. Dad used to give them to you sometimes. I remember that."
Christ, is this what normal people did? He knew that she probably couldn't hear him, but he continued talking anyway. "Um, I hope it's nice up there in heaven. I wish Dad were there with you, but you know, he kind of went downstairs instead, so… I don't know. I hope you're happy, I guess. I wish I knew what your heaven looked like. I bet it's beautiful, whatever it is." Dean paused. What else should he say? "I… I miss you a lot. But we're doing good, Mom. Well, yeah, I mean, considering. We're doing our best. I'm taking care of Sammy, just like I promised, we're saving as many people as we can, and we have Bobby and Cas… have you met Cas? He's an angel, I don't know if you've seen him around up there or anything, but he's our friend and he's pretty great. I think you'd like him a lot. Well, if he ever stops by your little piece of paradise, promise me you'll invite him in for tea or something." Dean cleared his throat. It was getting harder for him to talk; he was kind of choked up all of the sudden.
"Oh, mom? I almost forgot. If you see Ellen and Jo, will you tell them I said… well, that I'm sorry? You'll bump into them sooner or later, and I know you don't know them, but they'll know you. Make sure they know that. Do that for me, please." Dean hung his head for a moment and closed his eyes. He wasn't going to pretend that he could feel her presence there or anything stupid like that, but something about spilling to a piece of rock was kind of therapeutic.
He was surprised when he heard the familiar flapping of wings behind him, but didn't turn to look. "Hey, Cas."
"Hello, Dean," came the angel's reply, his deep voice quiet and softer than usual. "Hello, Mary." Dean smiled at that. Castiel had moved to Dean's side, but instead of staring down at the headstone, he looked straight ahead, as if he could see Dean's mother standing right there in front of them. "Nice to meet you. I'm sorry I haven't had a chance to properly introduce myself to you yet."
"Jesus, Cas, what are you? My girlfriend?"
Cas didn't answer him, though. "Mary, I just want you to know how incredible your son is." Dean quieted. "That's why I went to rescue him from hell. And I want you to know that I will do everything within my power to keep him safe. That's a promise." And then, Castiel's hand slipped into Dean's and squeezed, and the angel smiled. "I'll try to keep him from doing anything too stupid."
Dean couldn't help but laugh at that, but it came out as half of a sob, and suddenly there were tears rolling down his cheeks. But Cas just stood there, holding his hand. It took Dean a few minutes to get himself under control, and all the while, his angel just stood there in silence, keeping him grounded with a simple touch.
When Dean finally wiped away the wetness from his cheeks and got his breathing back to normal, he turned to Cas and looked at him for the first time since he had appeared. "Thank you," he said.
Castiel merely nodded, the hints of a kind smile on his lips. Dean breathed in the crisp February air, sighing deeply before he spoke again, this time directed back at the grave.
"I love you, Mom."
He had been gone now for almost twenty minutes. "I think I'm ready to go now," he told Cas, smiling genuinely for the first time in a while, "and Sam's probably thinking I got beat up by that punk-ass demon. Come on." He steered Cas around, and with their hands swinging between them, started back towards the Impala.
"Do I get to ride in the front now?" Cas asked him when they reached the car. He paused a second, looking at the angel who was holding his hand, with his dirty old trench coat and crooked blue tie, his big blue eyes hopeful. Dean grinned.
"Yeah, Cas. You can ride in the front now."
And the whole way home, Dean drove with one hand. He wasn't going to let go of his angel just yet.