Author's Note: Welcome to story #4 in my Grey Sky Universe! This one has been in my head since day one and I'm so glad that I finally had time to write it. Please enjoy!
"Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome
And I don't feel right when you're gone away."
—Seether, "Broken"
Castiel wouldn't be here if he wasn't so desperate.
Crossing Heaven—passing through countless people's perfect memories—takes up more grace than he should be expending right now. Still, he had choice, not really. He's been trying to spend as much time as he can by Sam's side—part of him is still worried that the youngest Winchester might do something rash while in the steel clutches of grief—but he's in charge of Heaven and all of its returning angels, who look to him for guidance and strength. They need a leader to guide them through this transition period.
They need Castiel.
It was Charlie who gave him this brief respite. Ever since the redhead had gotten the news of Dean's death, she had decided to stay at the bunker in the hope that she might be useful to Sam. Her presence did seem to help ground the youngest Winchester and it was with a tight smile on her lips that she pushed the angel towards the bunker door.
"I've got him." She said quietly. "Go do what you need to do."
She doesn't know the truth, like Sam. She doesn't know that Dean is a demon, adjusting to his newfound life with Crowley. She doesn't know that Sam burned a fake body or that Castiel has been lying ever since then.
As much as he wants to come clean, he knows he can't. Not yet, not while there was still so much on the line. He'll lose their friendship over this, that much he's sure of, but if it meant protecting Sam and Charlie from a potentially rampaging Dean, then that's what the angel had to do.
He steps into another Heaven and grins as he recognizes the place. Bobby's house, though in this memory, it's much brighter and happier. The paint on the walls is fresh and there doesn't seem to be a trace of anything supernatural related on the tables. A young blonde woman in a pale green day dress sees him and tilts her head to the side in confusion.
"Can I help you?" He's about to answer when Bobby walks in and seeing the angel, startles.
"Castiel?" Bobby mutters. "What's wrong?"
Castiel knows he shouldn't be here, shouldn't be intruding on someone's well deserved eternal peace, but he doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know if he can keep Sam alive until Dean's recovered his memories or if he can even keep the secret to himself.
"I need your help." The Messenger of the Lord confesses.
And that's when the whole story spills out of him.
"Jesus."
Castiel takes a small sip of the coffee Karen made before placing it on the small coffee table. Karen is in the other room, humming to herself as she bakes a pie. Bobby, on the other hand, nurses a scotch and shakes his head, eyes downcast. Then, he glances up, the cup clanging on the table as he sets it down.
"I'm sorry for coming here, Bobby." Castiel apologizes. "But I confess that I'm out of options."
Bobby nods at that, thinking deeply.
"So, let me get this straight." He takes a breath. "Dean is a demon?"
Castiel nods.
"And Sam thinks he's dead?"
Another nod.
"And he has to think that because Dean's really in Hell trying to get his head on straight because of the power that the Mark of Cain had on him?"
"It is quite a long story." Castiel mutters and Bobby shakes his head in disbelief. "Bobby, I'm worried Sam might . . ." He hesitates, unsure of how to state his fear delicately.
"Kill himself?" Bobby ventures and the angel startles.
"Yes." He admits.
Bobby doesn't speak for the longest time. He takes another swig of his drink before placing the now empty glass on the table. He sighs, before rising up from his chair.
"C'mon." Bobby gestures towards the front door. "There's something I need you to see."
The angel stands up and quickly follows behind the gruff hunter. The front door easily pushes open to reveal a flash of bright light. He grimaces for a brief moment before the light recedes back, enough so that the angel can clearly see where he is.
"A field?" He mumbles as he takes in the surrounding grassy field. The greenery seems to extend forever out into the horizon. The sky is the clearest blue, almost the color of the sea. A warm summer wind ruffles his hair and the angel breathes deeply in, enjoying the serenity of the surroundings.
"Dean, c'mon!"
His gaze darts to a young Sam, no older than six, chasing his older brother.
"Sammy, how many times do I have to tell you? You'll never catch me!"
A determined look enters Sam's gaze.
"Not today, Dean!"
The two brothers race off, laughing and shouting at each other. The sight is bittersweet. When was the last time he'd seen Sam or Dean grin like that? Carefree and at a peace? Even after the Apocalypse, there had been problems that the brothers had to solve. They'd never had a moment, it seemed, to catch their breath and enjoy life.
"What is this?" Castiel whispers, afraid that he might disturb the image before him, though he knows that's impossible.
"When the boys were younger, John got hurt pretty bad on a hunt." Bobby begins, a wistful glint in his eyes. "He needed somewhere to recuperate and I was the obvious choice." He chuckles darkly, some joke that is lost on the Heavenly Messenger. "Sam and Dean were restless so I drove them 30 minutes down South to this field that I used to go to as a kid." He grins. "We must've stayed out here for hours. The boys loved it and I . . ." He hesitates, unsure if he wants to say the next part. "I felt like there was more to life than hunting. Something I hadn't felt since before Karen died."
"They look so happy." Castiel remarks, a tinge of grief in his tone.
"They were." Bobby replies. "But not because of this field." He turns, meeting the angel's eyes. "It was because they were together."
It's you and me against the world.
How many times had Castiel heard that? How many times had he witnessed Sam and Dean's subtle ways of showing that they cared for each other, that they functioned best together? From the small prayers Sam recited each night without fail, asking for help in protecting Dean to Dean's way of always putting himself between Sam and whatever evil they were facing. The two were two halves of one whole and they needed each other to survive. They needed to know that they weren't forsaken in this world, that there was still someone who always had their back.
Bottom line, they needed each other.
"I don't what to do." Castiel confesses, voice cracking because there is so much pressure on him to rebuild Heaven, to keep the secret of Dean's resurrection, to keep Sam safe until the day came that the truth could be revealed. Under all the stress, the angel found himself splintering into what felt like a thousand tiny fragments.
"You can't tell Sam the truth?" Bobby ventures.
"No," Castiel shakes his head. "Dean could kill him."
"Then, you keep holding on." Bobby advises. "You keep fighting tooth and nail because at the end of the day, that's all you can do."
"And if I can't—?"
"Don't start all that self-doubt crap." The older hunter growls, his gaze hardening. "It's not about whether you can or not. It's about doing what you have to do, understand?"
He remembers an old conversation he had with Dean, back when they had first met, back when Castiel had been convinced Sam needed to be destroyed, that he was an abomination. The angel had been ready to offer his services to terminate the youngest Winchester when Dean had spoken up.
I'll pull him back, Cas. He's my brother. I can save him. You'll see.
At the time, there had been so much bravado in Dean's voice that the Messenger of Heaven hadn't wanted to believe him, but the way he said it, the way it commanded his attention that had given the angel pause.
The thing was, he had believed Dean.
Never before this point had he ever put his faith in a human nor believed them to be capable of achieving anything of importance. But hearing Dean talk with such surety, made Castiel rethink that.
That's when he began to change, he supposed.
"Understand?" Bobby repeats, pulling him back from the memory.
"Yes, I do." Castiel replies quickly.
They stand there for what seems like an eternity, watching the two boys play without a care in the world. It's odd, and yet wonderful to see Sam and Dean like this, to be reminded that there is goodness still out there, despite all the darkness that seemed to plague them.
It gives the angel a reason to keep fighting.
"And for what it's worth," Bobby clears his throat, his gaze becoming locked on the dirt below him. "I believe in you, Castiel."
Castiel is blown away.
"Thank you." He manages to tell the older hunter, his throat clogged with emotion. "Bobby, really—"
"Okay, okay, don't go all Lifetime on me." Bobby replies, holding a hand up in protest. "Let's head back." He starts to move away from the field and Castiel moves to follow, but hesitates, his eyes drifting back to the two brothers chasing each other in the field.
For them, he could hang on.
When he returns back to the bunker, Charlie is asleep on the dining room table, a well-worn blanket carefully tucked around her. Dark bags still hang under her eyes—the first few days she had been here, she hadn't been able to stop crying to get a good night's sleep. He's about to wake her up and get her move to the spare bedroom when Sam emerges from the kitchen.
"Hey." He whispers to Castiel in greeting. A rare smile lights up Sam's face as he takes in Charlie's appearance. Without so much as another word, he gently pulls her up from the chair and carries her down to the ball. The redhead mumbles something incoherent in her sleep, but doesn't awake. A few minutes later, she's tucked under the sheets. With a gentleness that Castiel hasn't seen since before Dean left, Sam tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear before leaving the room.
"She's exhausted." Sam explains, though he doesn't need to.
"And you?" The angel presses.
"I'm . . ." The youngest Winchester pauses, then sighs. "I'm still here."
His statement isn't reassuring in the slightest.
"Sam, I—"
"Castiel, I'm not going to do something stupid." He answers the unspoken question quickly. "Dean wouldn't want me to do that." He lets out a huff of a laugh that sounds more like a sob. "I just need some time to get used to . . ." A vague gesture to the empty bunker and the angel quickly nods his head. Without Dean, the bunker has been quieter than usual. No more rock music filling the air, no sounds of the elder brother cooking.
All that remained was silence.
"I'm here for you, Sam." The angel places a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. He wants to say something else, something profound, but his voice cuts out and all he can do is pat Sam's shoulder and hope that it's enough.
"Thanks, Cas."
For now, it just might be.
Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed this story in my universe! Please review if you have a moment. Thanks!