"Sammy, come on, man, I'm starving!"
"We just stopped for food half an hour ago, Dean," Sam responded, now tired of his brother's constant whining.
Dean sat in the driver's seat of the car, one hand on the wheel while the other tapped his knee impatiently. "But we're going to be in town for a while, and I barely got anything back at the diner we stopped at. The food tasted like dog crap," He explained, looking over at his younger brother with a pout tugging at his lips. "And how would you know what dog crap tastes like?" Sam asked him, lines appearing at the sides of his eyes and mouth as a smirk plastered on his face.
"It was one time, Sammy!" The eldest said, eyes judging.
Though the two brothers never completely got along, they shared many fond memories. And even though their father was almost never part of them, they treasured the moments all the same.
"Alright, whatever. I think there's a diner two miles up the road," Sam finally sighed, leaning back in the seat of the car, a 1967 Chevy Impala, which Dean referred to as 'his baby'. Sam never understood why. Dean was sure he never would.
Outside of the car, trees sped past in a blur of green and brown, melding into the gray Pennsylvania sky. Sam told Dean about a hive of vampires in the north-western part of the state. An anonymous tip, he had explained. Dean didn't really care how Sam found out about it, he was just eager to get out of New York.
"You're going to miss the turn!" Sam slapped his shoulder, snapping his brother out of his thoughts as he pointed to a small diner fifty yards away.
To be honest, it looked more like a tin can than it did a restaurant. There were only a few cars parked in the lot, but during this season, Dean wasn't surprised. Not many people wanted to be in the area during the winter. With a quick jerk of the steering wheel, they pulled into the parking lot and found a spot near the entrance. Dean pulled the key out of the ignition and pushed the door of the Impala open, a gust of air slamming into his face like a shard of ice. "Shit, who would want to live here?" He complained as he shut the door and walked into the diner, his younger but significantly larger brother following a step behind.
The diner was warm and welcoming, the smell of meat on a grill filling the room, the faint sound of sizzling in the back of the kitchen catching Dean's attention. "Dude, hamburgers," He breathed, falling back into one of the booths with his full attention on the small window showing the kitchen. "It's a hamburger, Dean. It's no big deal," Sam pointed out flatly, sliding into the seat across from him. He put the laptop on the table and opened it, eyes glued to the screen. Dean glared at him for a moment, and if looks could kill, Sam would be stone-cold dead.
"Can I get you two something to drink?" A young woman asked, approaching the table with a notepad in one hand and a pen in the other.
Sam looked over the top of the laptop and frowned, shaking his head. "We're good, thanks," He nodded, looking back down at the screen. The waitress nodded and turned to check on the other customers, though there weren't many to tend to. "Okay, so check this out, over the past three weeks, two children have gone missing, their bodies found by the edge of a stream not two miles from the lake," Sam pointed out, turning the laptop so that Dean could read the article on the screen. "Four teenagers went fishing on a boat last weekend, four hours later three are dead and one was institutionalized after going to the hospital. Does any of this sound familiar to you?" His little brother asked, closing the laptop and shoving it back into his bag.
"Like that one case dad looked into?" Dean guessed, turning his attention to the kitchen.
"Yeah, he said that the state police found the bodies of two children and one teenager under a bush back in 2005. Their necks were ripped open and there was virtually no blood left in their entire body. Are you even listening?"
"Do you think they serve pie? I bet they serve pie," Dean pondered, looking for the waitress before waving her over.
"How can I help you, sir?" She asked, pulling out her notepad. "Yeah, do you serve pie?" He asked, a hopeful grin lighting up his face. The waitress, probably only seventeen years old, nodded. "We have apple, cherry, and pumpkin." Dean treated the question as if it were the cure to every known disease, and he grinned stupidly as he ordered apple pie and a coffee.
Sam looked at him from across the table, giving him one of his famous bitch faces, like when he did when Dean did something stupid.
"Dean, are you serious? Where does all that food go?" Sam asked, tapping his fingers on the table as his brother looked back at him, returning the stare.
"You know I can't work on an empty stomach," He said, as if it were obvious.
Five minutes later, the waitress came back with a piece of pie and a mug of coffee, steam rising up from the top and slowly fading away into the air. Dean thanked her and she walked off without a word. Sam gave up on lecturing his brother, finally realizing that when Dean was eating, he was practically deaf. As the younger of the two stared out the window, Dean was concentrating on fitting as much of the pie into his mouth as possible. The sound of a door opening and closing filled the once silent air, and the click of shoes against tiles sounded as someone approached the table.
"I'm glad you enjoy the pie," A voice sounded, nearly making Dean jump out of his skin and choke on the pie.
Swallowing the bite, he looked up at who had spoken, and his breath nearly caught in his throat. Before him stood a tall man, not as tall as Sam, but tall none-the-less. He had short black hair and blue eyes, a stubble lining his jaw.
"Oh, my, I haven't even introduced myself. My name is Castiel, I'm the head chef," The man said, extending his hand.
Dean stood up, staring at him for a moment before extending his own and carefully shaking the man's hand. "Dean," He nodded, and the chef smiled, letting his hand fall carelessly to his side. "What are you two doing this far east? You look like you belong in California," Castiel nodded, clearly wanting to start a conversation.
"Just business. We travel a lot," Dean carefully answered, looking over to see Sam watching the two. Excusing himself, the younger brother left without another word.
As Dean finished his pie, he looked up at Castiel who had taken a seat where Sam once was. The two continued talking as the day wore on, the light slowly dying, leaving the sky a dark blue. Sam walked back in, pulling Dean up by the shoulder. "We have to go," He said softly, looking at his brother apologetically before walking out of the small diner, and with a small pout, Dean said goodbye to Castiel and followed his brother. He got into the car and shoved the key into the ignition, starting the car up. They pulled out of the parking lot and drove towards town, leaving the friendly restaurant in the rearview mirror.
They reached the motel by midnight, and as they got into their room, Sam quickly fell asleep, leaving Dean alone in silence. At first he tried to fall asleep, but when he realized that rest would not be an option, he decided to do something more useful to occupy his time. Carefully taking Sam's laptop out of what Dean always called his man purse, he sat back down on the bed and opened it up. Instead of his usual web browsing, Dean opened up Google and typed in the name of the diner they had visited earlier in the day. After a second of waiting, several website links popped up. Scrolling through, he finally found the diner's website and clicked, watching as the page loaded.
After five minutes of searching, Dean found a list of all of the staff in order by first name from A-Z. Scrolling down, he found Castiel with a triumphant grin. Opening a new tab, he typed in the chef's name and hit enter. Several links popped up, but none led to any sort of information or account belonging to Castiel, which caused Dean to grunt in displeasure. Shutting the laptop, the older brother fell back into the pillows and shut off the light. Finally, Dean was pulled down into a shallow, restless sleep.
The next morning, Dean awoke to the wind whistling outside. Turning on his side, he ran his hands over the table and turned on the light. Reluctantly opening his eyes, Dean saw that Sam's bed was empty and neatly made. There was a piece of paper on top, with five dollars sitting beside it. Pulling himself up, the eldest brother picked up the note. It read:
Dean,
I went off to check out the hive near the lake. When you get up, get yourself some breakfast. I'll be back by 5.
Sam.
Setting the note back down, Dean picked up the five dollars, grabbing the keys to the Impala, and walked out the door, locking it behind him.
He got into the car and started it up, unconsciously pulling out of the parking lot and heading back the way they came from last night. After twenty minutes, the diner came into view, barely visible amongst the trees surrounding it. Like last night, the lot was nearly empty as Dean pulled in and parked the car. Getting out and heading towards the restaurant, he saw Cas standing by the window that lead to the kitchen. A small smile tugged at the chef's lips as Dean walked in and sat down at the booth he was at last night. Castiel walked over, pulling a notepad out of his back pocket and clicking the top of the pen.
"Good morning, Dean," He greeted, looking down at him. Dean looked up and nodded, lips pressed tightly together, though his eyes were warm and welcoming.
"Hey, Cas," He said, turning to get a better look at the chef. "You still got some of that apple pie?" The question made the chef's smile wider, but he nodded and wrote something down. "Of course we do, I'm on it," He said, and walked off towards the kitchen, leaving Dean alone with his thoughts.
Five minutes later, Cas came back with a warm piece of apple pie and a cup of coffee. Setting the plate and cup down, he slid into the seat across from dean and leaned his elbows on the table. "Where's your brother?" Cas asked, tilting his head to one side as the only other customer ate contently at the other side of the restaurant, clearly not paying attention to the two. "He said he would take care of the job today," Dean replied, setting his fork down next to the half finished pie. "How about you? Any brothers or sisters?" He asked, wanting to know more about the friendly chef.
"No, I'm an only child," He explained, carelessly waving his hand as if to say 'Whatever, it doesn't bother me.'
The two of theme continued to talk as Dean ate for another hour before loud, ear piercing sirens filled the once silent air. This must not have occurred often, because a startled look crossed the chef's eyes as he stood up and locked the diner doors. In another minute, the TV was turned to the news, which was now reporting a body found down by the lake. It was yet to be identified, but Dean had a feeling he already knew who it was.
Half an hour passed before there was any update on the body found down by the lake. Dean and Cas sat in a booth with their eyes fixed on the TV.
"State police officers have identified the body found by the lake as Sam Winchester."
Dean sat there for a good two minutes before a choked sob escaped his lips, a single tear slipping down his cheek. Cas looked over, his own eyes wide. The man on the television continued to inform the watchers that Sam's throat had been ripped open and the blood had been drained out of his body, just like the others. Dean thought that Sam would be back by five, keeping his promise just like his little brother always did.
The eldest brother pushed his way out of the booth and past a protesting Cas towards the door. He kicked the door, though to his dismay, it didn't open. "Damn door, open!" Dean howled, shaking at the door as a wide eyed Cas stood behind him, the key to the door held loosely in one hand.
"Dean," He huffed, holding out one hand with the key resting in his palm. Cas must have known he was doing something stupid, but he must not have cared, because he let Dean take the key and open the doors to the diner. Dean pushed the doors open and got into his car, not looking twice at Cas before pulling out of the lot and speeding towards where Sam's body was found.
The area was closed off by police tape, and guarded by state officers. Dean got out of the car, flashing a fake FBI badge before ducking under the tape and approaching the body. Yes, that was definitely Sam. As Dean knelt down, he barely held back a sob, looking into his little brother's empty, far-seeing eyes. There was a large wound on his neck, soaking his shirt in blood, but that didn't stop Dean from pulling his dorky brother close to his chest, finally letting the grief swallow him whole. Several broken, agonizing sobs escaped from his lips and swallowed the silence, followed by pleas from Dean for Sam to wake up.
"Come on, Sammy, what am I going to do without my dorky little brother to keep my ass from getting kicked? You can't leave me on my own, Sammy!" Dean whispered, his voice barely audible over the orders of the officers to get me away from Sam and to have the medics take Sammy away.
Two particularly large officers grabbed Dean's arms and pulled me away from my brother's lifeless body, and he watched as the paramedics put the body on a stretcher and hauled Sam off to the hospital. "Let me go! I have to go with him! He's my brother, you morons!" Dean howled, trying to pull away from the burly police officers, and reluctantly, I watched my brother get taken away from me for the last time.
Dean was back at the diner, because the doctors wouldn't let him see Sam until the autopsy was done. So he sat at the table, an untouched mug of now cold coffee between his hands, a worried Castiel sitting across from him. He was watching Dean carefully, maybe making sure he didn't make any attempt to stab himself with the knife that sat several inches from his hand. It was an absurd idea, but if they switched places, Dean would be worried, too.
"Dean," He said, leaning forward on the table to try and catch Dean's eyes.
The words hang heavily in the air, waiting to be answered, maybe with a snarky remark or maybe a heartbreaking sob. Who knows.
"He's gone, Castiel. He promised he would never leave but now he's gone and I can never get him back," Dean spat out, though his tone was more upset than it was angry.
"I can understand your pain, Dean," Castiel said quietly, resting a hand carefully on top of his, "My sister died when I was a child." Dean looked up at the chef with apologetic eyes before they slipped back down to where they were focused moments before. "Cas, I'm sorry," he muttered, barely audible over the sounds of the police cars rushing past the diner. "There's no reason to be sorry, Dean. It was over ten years ago," He explained, shrugging it off as if it was nothing, but Dean knew that it was quite the opposite. Dean knew that it broke Cas apart piece by piece, though he knew the Chef was reluctant to admit it.
"Dean," Was all he said before getting up and walking back into the kitchen, leaving Dean to his thoughts, which in his opinion, was a really bad idea.
Cas and Dean walked down the creek towards where they found Sam's body. All of the officers and equipment and tape was gone, leaving the cool, bubbling creek to flow towards the lake as if nothing had happened. As if Sam had never been murdered here. But something had happened here, and Sam had been murdered here, and this place would never be the same. Ever.
The two walked down the creek, arms occasionally brushing, searching for whatever had gotten Sam killed. Earlier, Cas tried to convince Dean that the idea was stupid, suicidal, but had eventually agreed to it. Up ahead, a large barn cast an even larger shadow down over the creek and surrounding area, making the scene seem even creepier than it was.
Behind them, Dean heard what he thought was footsteps, and Cas must have heard it, too, because he turned to Dean with a worried expression on his face that said 'We should go. Now.'
Dean couldn't agree more, and they ran off in the direction they came, leaving whatever had been following them behind. They didn't stop until they reached the bridge that lead down to the creek. On the way back up, Cas turned to look back over his shoulder as if to make sure nothing had followed them. Luckily, they were alone.
Cas, much to Dean's displeasure, drove him back to the motel and lead him inside. He promised Dean that he would keep the diner open late so that Dean could stop by after he had gotten some rest. After that, he left, leaving Dean on his own again. Before falling into his bed, he picked the lamp up off the table, ripping the chord out of the outlet, and throwing the thing at the wall. It broke with a loud crash and the pieces fell to the floor. Much like his life had, Dean thought.
After falling into the bed, Dean quickly fell asleep, his rest empty and dreamless and lonely.
Waking up half an hour later, Dean got into the Impala and drove to the diner. At the speed he was going, it only took him fifteen minutes instead of the normal thirty to get to the small restaurant. Once inside, he walked over to his normal booth, smiling weakly as he saw a still warm piece of apple pie sitting on the table, a notecard sticking out from under it that read:
For my favorite customer and my best friend, Dean.
He sat down, picking up the fork and taking a satisfying bite of the pie. Dean looked up as the waitress from the first time they visited came over. "Castiel wanted you to know that he'll be back in half an hour," She said, giving him a warm smile before heading back into the kitchen. As he looked around, he realized that besides him and the waitress, the diner was completely empty. Dean shrugged off the odd feeling that was pressing down on his chest and focused on finishing the rest of his apple pie. Dear god, it was amazing, he was amazing.
As soon as Dean finished the pie, the waitress came out and handed a phone to him. Her expression was flat and emotionless, but her eyes showed that something terrible had happened. Dean took the phone, pressing it to his ear.
"Hello?" He asked, standing up and walking over to the door, ready to walk out so that no one overheard the conversation when he remembered that no one was in the diner that would bother him. "Is this Dean Winchester?" The man on the other end of the phone asked. Dean paused for a minute, deciding whether to hang up or to answer the man.
"Depends on who's asking," He said simply, sitting back down at the booth.
There was a long pause before the man answered again. "Are you friends with Castiel?" He asked, and Dean nodded, "I am." He could hear the man sigh before speaking again. "Cas is dead."
In five minutes Dean was at the hospital, standing over Castiel's lifeless body. Just like Sam, his throat was ripped open, and the doctor explained that all blood was drained from his body. They had found him down by the creek, where they were yesterday. The doctor left him alone with the dead Castiel, letting him say his final goodbye's.
He stood up from where he sat by the bed, and looking down at his now lifeless friend, a tear escaped his eye and fell down his cheek. Too many goodbye's in too little an amount of time, Dean thought. Though know he knew that his thoughts didn't matter, because now both his friend and his brother are dead, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Dean walked out of the hospital without another word. He left the Impala behind, because now there was no one to ride in it with him, because now, Dean was completely and utterly alone.