A short drabble I wrote about Dean and Cas.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or anything else you recognize
It was dawn when Dean Winchester awoke. He laid in his small single bed for a few moments, soaking in any remnants of the warmth of his bed that he could get. When he did get up, it was slowly, old wounds stiff and unyielding. He pulled on a dark grey robe that hung on the back of his bedroom and shuffled out of his room into his tiny apartment. It was rather plain, simple home, a single bedroom, a tiny living room, a bathroom and a small kitchen in which he mainly pre-heated the meals that he was delivered. It was to the kitchen that Dean first limped to, coffee fresh on his mind. Old habits died hard and he found himself checking the windows as he passed them and that the door was still locked and chain in place. Not that it would offer much protection from the beasts he had once hunted, but it kept out animals of the human kind. Shaking arthritic hands poured himself a small cup of coffee, which he wrapped both hands around in a desperate attempt to get warm. As he sipped his coffee he moved to his living room and walked to the tiny window. He stared out at the sun that was just caressing the edges of the sky as it climbed higher and higher while time passed. It was on days like this that Dean found it difficult to accept that it had been nearly 50 years since he and Sam had saved the world and closed the gate to Hell.
Rubbing a hand over his face he made his way back to his room where he dressed weakly. Life had become a methodical routine, wake up, drink his coffee and go out for a walk before the sun had risen high in the sky. Sam was gone, living somewhere across the country from Dean, the two not having spoken for nearly 20 years. He occasionally received a letter from him, speaking of his grandchildren, or his wife. God, who would have thought, after all they had been through, that Sammy would still want to settle down with some woman.
It made him happy though, and Dean had forced himself to move on, shove down the feeling of abandonment. That was how it always was, everyone left him in the end. He let out a long sigh and pulled on a pair of soft leather shoes. Locking his door he started the long, arduous trek downstairs of the building and outside. He moved silently, old training showing its roots.
Outside was pleasantly warm, and the old man closed his eyes, allowing the warmth to slide over him. Faces flashed before his eyes, of people he had once known and had inevitably killed. His eyes flashed open and a cruel hand encircled his chest. The familiar grief and pain covered his thoughts like a shroud. God why did he have to have been such a fuck up when he was younger. He had left too many scars behind him, and broken himself in the process. Dean ran a shaky hand through his thinning grey hair. The memories of his hunting years flashed before him, and faces ran through his mind. "Dammit" he muttered. He had thought he was stronger than this, better. But in the end he was weak as ever. Looking around, he realised he had made his way into the center of the tiny town. The streets were bare as most people were in bed at this point.
It wasn't that he didn't like people, no one could get hurt if he stayed away. A flash of tan out of the corner of Deans eye had the retired hunter turning rapidly. It couldn't be, the man he had last seen in that coat was gone, and Dean had accepted that fact. When he was sure that he was alone, he turned and started back towards his apartment. The sun was getting higher and soon people would be coming out. He slowed when he passed the towns only major parking lot, where his old baby the Impala sat. Dean couldn't resist walking over and letting his hand drift over the sleek paint, still looking as new as when he had driven it across country with Sam. Now he just paid a small fee to keep the car there, not driving as much as he got older, aches and phantom injuries stopping him in his tracks. The Impala brought back memories, happier than the ones that had plagued him earlier. Him and Sam driving somewhere on a new case, AC DC blasting. God he missed those days. Grudgingly Dean turned away and started the walk back. It was starting to take him longer and longer, and the short walk was starting to leave him short of breath. He shouldn't be surprised, he was nearing 84 years of age. As he walked, he couldn't help that his mind drifted back to the flash of tan he had seen earlier.
Castiel the angel.
There was a face he had not seen in years. He had disappeared shortly after they had managed to close the gate. No goodbye, nothing. Dean had just woken up to find him gone. He missed the angel, his long trench coat, his love for burgers and how he would appear randomly scaring the shit out of him and Sam. Dean climbed the stairs to his apartment, thoughts drifting away from Cas for a short while. How many stairs were there again, the climb up seemed longer and longer each time he went up them. Shakily he unlocked his apartment door and when he entered, he was forced to lean against the door as a racking cough overtook him. Wiping the mucus he had choked up on his shirt he slowly made his way to his kitchen. He poured himself a second coffee and walked into his living room where he eased his aching bones on to the couch. Placing the cup on his stained coffee table, Dean rested his head back and closed his eyes.
"Hello Dean"
The familiar voice was a shock to Dean and his eyes shot open and with the vigor of a young man he was standing. Across from him was the very angel who had pulled him from hell all those years ago. He unconsciously rubbed his shoulder while he drank in the sight.
"Cas."
He wanted to say more, but his voice cracked as another cough rattled his chest, and a dull pain settled in the center. The black haired angel smiled a bit and in a second was beside the ailing hunter. A gentle arm across his shoulder led him to the couch and once more he was sitting, though he felt the angel by his side this time.
"Cas,"
he started again, but a cool touch to his lips stopped him. He looked over to see a peculiar smile on the angels lips, and suddenly the pain in his chest grew. With the heel of his hand he attempted to squeeze the pain out. Cas's arm tightened around his shoulder and he felt a cool touch the center of the pain. Cool bliss drifted over him and he felt younger and more serene than he had in years.
"Your time here is over Dean. I am here to take you to heaven."
Dean let a small smile cross his lips. No matter what had happened, what he had done in his lifetime, he was going to heaven. Cas was taking him there to boot. His smile fell though when he thought of something.
"Sammie?"
"Sam will be fine. You will see him again, though he has a few years yet."
Dean nodded and tried to fight the rising drowsiness he felt. His vision was growing white around the edges and he forced himself to blink. No words were spoken though he felt Cas's cool presence beside him. When his eyes finally slid shut, he found himself standing next to the angel in front of the couch. His body was young again, the old injuries that had scared him gone and he knew he was dead. He refused to look back, to see what had become of him in his later years. Instead he ran a soft hand through his hair and looked over at Cas. The angel was smiling, a look that Dean had missed all those years. A cool hand embraced his own warm one and Dean closed his eyes.
The familiar roar of his impala reached his ears and when he opened his eyes, he was standing alone on an empty road, the Impala rumbling in front of him. He opened the door and slid in, looking over at the empty seat beside him. A pang of sadness shot through his chest for his brother, but he forced it down quickly.
"Where are we going?" Dean couldn't help but jump as the angel appeared behind him.
"Jesus Cas!" The hunter said chuckling. Shifting his baby into gear, Dean ripped on to the road, engine roaring.
