start:
A nip carried in the air, swirling around the buildings and inhabitants of the small winter town. The wind brought with it a constant reminded of the impending holiday season. Lights were being hung over the thresholds of houses and bows were placed on the street lights that lined the main drag. The eldest Winchester brother hunched his shoulders under his thick worn jacket as the temperature dropped yet again. It was during this season that he found himself frequenting the local bars more and more. It was something that nagged at the back of his mind, yet remained something that he couldn't quite explain.
His calloused hand landed on the thick oak door to a local hole-in-the-wall Irish pup he constantly found himself seating in on nights like these. The dark haze of the old drinking establishment hugged Dean like an old friend as memories pushed passed his walls, gripping his tired soul. A large gust followed him in, making his quiet entrance more noticed than he had wanted.
" 'ey, boyo don' be lettin' all the hot air out o' 'ere." The large gruff pub owner greeted him as he did every other night, with a smart remark and a warm smile. After fifty years in the states, he still had a thick accent, though Dean wasnt quite sure where it was from. As he wiped down the wet spot left by a former patron, he pointed at the two current old timers who were always there. "I been tryin' to save it all listenin' to these old goons." Dean smiled and they shared a small laugh as he found his way to his usual stool. surprisingly, he found the consistency and the warm comfort of the old man refreshing. He also reveled in the fact the pub, as all good Irish things, did not lack in beautiful hard liqueur.
"The usual, Jack." The greying man nodded in response to the tired gruff voice of the younger man. Ordering 'the usual' was growing to be the extent of Dean's vocal exercise. "Anything on yer mind?" The question was a companion to his glass of liqueur, and Dean found himself wondering, as he often did, if he had imagined it or not. Looking up, he caught the eye of the old man. He pondered it for a moment but then shook his head, his gaze going back to the glass in front of him. "I'll leave ye' to yer troubles then, boyo. But know, I've seen a thing or two in my time as well." A knowing smile followed as 'Jack' went about his business, sparring a glance towards the heaped leather when an opportunity allowed.
xxx
It was well past midnight when he stumbled through the front door of the small cabin like structure which bared his name on the mailbox. He had never been able to call it home. Truth be told, in the three years he had been staying there, he still had no clue where the coffee cups were kept or where he could find a towel. The basics like the john and the bedroom were something he could find just opening random door, but he always knew where his duffel bag was. He kept it in the corner of the study, his clothes tucked deep into the depths. Some habits were too hard to break.
He never felt at home, despite the attempt at being normal.
His eyes caught a beam light coming from beneath the bedroom door. He knew she has to leave for work early, but she was waiting up for him. She always waited. When the nightmares tore him limb from limb and the sweat pooled on his brow, she was the one who attempted to pull him back into reality. Even with everything she did for him, putting up with the mood swings and the drunken nights, time after time, her face still remained so unfamiliar to him. He often found himself forgetting her name or certain important aspect of her personal life. He couldnt find the date of her birthday anywhere in his files and while he sat and listened to her discuss family or friends when she decided to cook dinner for him, he still had no clue who those people were. Any normal woman would have left him long ago, tired of the violent outbursts or the silence, but the one thing he had told her about his past life had immediately made her understand.
I use to be a soldier...
The lie was simple enough, only meant to get her to fall into his gruff and hard features long enough for a night of emotionless fucking before he'd be off again to find a new town and a new bar. But, apparently, she had been the wrong girl and that had been the wrong line. Her past history with soldiers and dealing with hard situations had immediately made her want to save him. The moment that sentence left his lips he had become her new challenge. After a while, she quickly figured out it was more than his occupation that haunted the rough, broken man who had stayed in her small apartment. She fell for him out right, seeing through his attempts to act like a badass. She wanted to save him from his demons, she just had no idea that he was too far gone.
He pondered this as he locked the door behind him. He found his hand lingering on the cool brass handle and he welcomed the small relief. His skin was hot to the touch, the upcoming season bringing with it head colds and fevers, so he was thankful for moments like these. Dean then turned and looked towards the door across the hall. The journey to the study was a quick one and he found he could find it, even with his eyes closed. However, he was more familiar with locating it after he had one drink past too many. He breathe a heavy sigh as he entered the small room, immediately calming him. It felt familiar to him, even when his own skin didnt. The smell of leather bound books, wavering dust, and a fraying couch reminded him of a time long gone, of days used up and moments thrown away. The handle to the left side, bottom drawer had molded to his grip and as he pulled it, it came with ease. Glass clicked together, pills rolled about, and papers fluttered in the daunting silence, but he welcomed it.
Twenty minutes past the sound of the lock clicking, the light in the bedroom went out. THis normal routine gave Dean a small mental comfort, but also made him uneasy. With every creak from the northern wind, his hand went for a gun that wasnt there. When he found himself by way of the kitchen, he had to resist the urge to salt the windows and doors, and even more increasingly he found it harder and harder not to fold his hands and call out the one name that was always on his lips. He quickly shook that feeling away now and looked around the room, silence falling once again.
xxx
The bottle of jack warmed in his hand as the familiar tingle in the back of this throat calmed his nerves. His spot on the worn leather couch faced a flickered fire in the large adorned hole in the wall they called a fire place. As his eyes stared into the lively embers his mind danced across one thought and then on to another. He was almost lost in a sea of dreams. Memories cascades before him in a water fall of emotion. He shook his head as the ghosts from his past started flashing through his eyes, pulling the rag out to wipe his neck. He looked down at the bottle in his grasp and prepared to take another swig. He just wanted to bring them back...
A loud pitch emanating from his pocket broke him from his reverie. The vibrating again his chest got increasingly powerful and helped drag him back into reality. His mind scanned through who could be calling at the current hour before he finally answered. His voice came out more gruff, more worn, and more broken than he remembered.
"Yeah?" The noise almost scarred him. Dean found himself retreating more and more as the days went on. He really couldnt explain why.
"Dean?" His heart suddenly stopped beating. His breath got caught like a ball of barbed wire in his chest. A thick winding haze filled his head, swirling and teaming around like a bad high.
"Is it really you?" He finally managed to choke out. His mind was trying to start working again and the gears were now attempting to grind and turn. "What?... How?... Why?" So many questions flooded through his mind as the thought of having this phone call, THIS phone call, became more and more of a reality in his life. He couldnt quite grasp it. Dean readied himself to fire off another round of questions before he remembered where he was. Closing the door and lowering his voice, Dean sat back down and wiped his forehead. "Why now..."
Dean waited and as he did, it gave his mind a chance to calm down.
"Its good to hear your voice." His voice sounded as bad as Dean's, if not worse. He could hear the cracks, the scars, the worn out life he had been living. The sorrow and brokeness that tinged the voice on the other end of the phone calmed and frightened the tired man. The sound was something he hadn't been expecting when he had imagined this phone call in his head time after time. Because of this, he frowned, a worried look appearing on his already failing features. He coughed, attempted to clear his throat, and tried to muster enough courage to continue.
"I thought... " He didnt know what words to muster. "I wanted to pray... Every night... I cant.. They wont stay away.. the nightmares... not knowing..." Dean tried to form coherent sentences, but he was failing time and again. The emotions he had felt, were feeling, were just too strong for him to express in a dark room in hushed tones.
"I know, Dean..." Dead could feel a catch in his throat as his voice said his name. He had dreamed this over and over in a thousand different scenarios but no matter what happened, none of them should have prepared him for the reality. His name coming from those lips... His knees felt like jello, his chest got heavy, and his mind got light. Dean wanted to scream his name in return. Ask him where he had been all those years. He wanted to hold him and let him wash away all of the worries, all of the tears, and all of the pain, just like he use to.
"I've missed you." The gruff voice on the other line sounded as if it was broken for a moment. It was at that second that Dean knew all of the emotions that he was feeling, he wasnt alone. He let a large breath escape from his non-working lungs, a breath he didnt know he had been holding. WIping his forehead again, he found himself shaking. His mind flickered for a moment to something biting at the back of his mind, something he should have done, but it quickly faded away. He was lost in the knowledge that he was actually sitting here, having this conversation.
"Hey, baby. Is everything alright?" This woman's voice jerked Dean from his thoughts. He quickly looked towards the door, his gaze landing on a petite brunette standing in the frame. He wasnt directly able to place her face, and a look on confusion rose on his features. "Who's on the phone?" Her new question brought it all back and placed a hint of urgency in Dean's gut.
"J-Just Tommy from work." His quick lie came stumbling out and he was hoping, quickly, that she's take that answer and leave. She waited a moment, though, and gave him a wary glance. "His wife kicked him out earlier tonight and he's calling for advice. Ill try to keep it down." His addiction came a bit more confidently and she slowly accepted the answer. Nodding, she came towards him and patter his hand. "Ill call Patty tomorrow and see how she is... Dont stay gone too long." She murmured. A kiss on his temple came as her goodbye before she retreated back to bed.
"Who is she to you?" As he watched the door shut, Dean pondered the question.
"Just... someone I stay with. She doesnt know anything about us... or you.. or anything for that matter." He quietly revealed. It was a constant reminder to him that this was growing to be more and more unfair to her. He wasnt easy to deal with, he wasnt easy to love. He just couldnt bring himself to part with her. He didnt want to be alone again.
"I hope this wont cause you any trouble." How could it cause him any trouble? His life was already broken, and of all the years Dean could never say any trouble was caused. Too many times to count it had been the exact opposite. His life and that of those he loved were saved more than he could count.
I want you... i need you... your touch...
So many things Dean wanted to say. All were lost in the scramble that was his swirling mind. He struggled to find a was to form tangible words at all.
"Dean... I cant talk for long." His blood ran cold. He immediately started searching for a way to prolong the end. "Wait! Wait... I-" He paused. He didnt know how to continue. Was it really too late? Had he missed his chance?
Why cant just be here... in person... holding me...
"...Yes?" Dean searched his mind, wondering if he could find the strength to finish.
"Before you go, please... just... one last time... I want to hear it from you... just one more time... my name..." It was then that he knew that when he hung up the phone, it would be the last time. It was something that terrified Dean to the core, but he was ready to face it. He was ready to deal with it. He would take it in strides or just crumble underneath the emotion. Either way, he needed this one final time.
"Dean, I-" The phone crackled as the wind picked up. His name, murmured from those lips... deep and needing. The world was held on those soft words, leaving Dean floating in the clouds above.
Come back to me...
His eyes fluttered and he straightened himself on the couch. Wiping his neck, he wondered if his mind had deceived him, yet again. When he realized, yet again, that this was reality he finally let himself mutter the name that had haunted every ounce of his being for years. And as he said it, it was as if a thousand lifetimes had been taken off of his soul.
"Cas...Oh god... Cas... " His voice trailed off an he just let all of his emotion hang on those words. So many goodbyes and broken dreams were contained in the breath he let out. Tears wet his cheeks, each one counting for a lost soul or the way life could have been. HIs chest hurt, and his mind became even more frayed and frazzled. The wind picked up outside and he could feel the chill through the old, poorly insulated walls of the cabin. His eyes stayed closed, though, and he imagined him there... his arms wrapped around him.
"Dean..." His eyes opened and the phone fell to the floor. Blinking wildly, he wondered if this was another of the ghosts of his past, haunting him. A hand went to the side of his face and he realized that the arms he imagined embracing his body were real. The warmth that enclosed him cleared his thoughts. Dean finally found his mind at ease as he looked upon the tired, worn face of his angel. Those blue eyes had followed him into his dreams and now, here there were, peering into his very soul. As Dean leaned forward into the embrace, he could feel a second force surround him, holding him up. A soft wistful flush on his cheek left a tingle on his skin.
Wings...
Dean finally felt himself melt and fall into the memories of a time long ago. "What took you so long..." He breathed.
finally at peace.