Headlights do little to slice through the heavy fog. Even so, Dean pushes the Impala a little harder, takes advantage of a straight stretch of road to get the rush of danger deep in his gut. He knows the road well enough from driving Ben to and from school and soccer and whatever else that kid was into. It feels good to take his baby out. He normally drives the beat up truck but every once in a while he uncovers her and just drives.
Lisa and Ben are at her mother's house for the weekend. She invited Dean along but he wasn't sure how much he really wanted to explain the situation. Yes, I'm the drifter who showed up at your daughter's door and has been getting drunk in her garage for the past few months. No, I have no intention of murdering them in their sleep. It would probably only serve to make the weekend awkward and tense and God knows he's already forced enough tension on them.
To be fair, the nightmares aren't really his fault. He doesn't ask to wake up sweaty and shaking, his hands searching for the knife he used to keep under his pillow. He sleeps on the couch for the first two weeks, mostly because he can't physically climb the stairs as drunk as he gets. Lisa is discreet in her understanding, allowing Dean time to collect himself. She ushers Ben from the living room earlier than his bedtime dictates with a quiet word to play his video games or watch tv in his room. Dean stares blankly at his glass even when she sits beside him on the couch reading. He drinks himself into a stupor silently only looking up when she brushes her hand though the hair at the base of his skull and kisses him lightly on the cheek on her way to bed.
Those first two weeks are the worst. It feels like the aftermath of his time in Hell all over again, except this time, he isn't on the racks, but there's Sammy…on his rack, presented like a gift. He watches Sam scream and beg just like he watched the other souls his last ten years downstairs. He can't stop his own hands as they reach for his favorite razor, one given to him by Alistair himself the day Dean said yes. His hands are steady as ever while he cuts into his brother, the razor only meeting the slightest resistance from the smooth skin beneath it.
That first week, Dean didn't wake up sweating. He woke up screaming.
After a while, the dreams fade, he cuts back on the alcohol intake and eventually he even starts sharing a bed with Lisa. They haven't done anything besides sleep, but the contact serves to placate the nightmares. Now that Lisa and Ben are away for the weekend, he can't sleep. He's paralyzed with the realization that he needs. Dean prides himself on not needing anyone especially now that Sammy, the only one to ever elicit that pull in his heart.
But that's not entirely true is it?
Images of Cas standing over his bed when he'd wake up in a dirty motel room, still panting from the realness of a nightmare, flicker across Dean's mind as he rounds another corner too fast. His heart jumps momentarily with the adrenaline of tires skidding along the edge of the road. Cas, even without physically touching him, brought a feeling of peace that lulled Dean back to sleep after even the worst dreams. It should have been creepy and Dean should have told the angel to stop, but he couldn't. And if Dean's being completely honest with himself, he misses that stupid fucking angel.
He hits the gas a little harder as he speeds past Ben's school, the lights on the 'School Zone' sign blinking dimly through the fog. He's got time before the road gets curvy again and he wants to feel the rush of speed. If Sammy were here he'd be so—he interrupts his own thoughts pushing them aside because Sammy isn't fucking here and no amount of thinking about him is going to bring him back.
And Cas isn't here either. The angel had disappeared right from Dean's passenger seat months ago and Dean still hadn't heard from him. No awkward phone calls, no dream visits, no popping up on TVs or exploding all the windows out of the living room and making Dean's ears bleed (in all honesty, he can't really be too mad about the last thing). He's not sure why Cas's disappearing act bothers him so much but he finds himself missing something. Maybe it's because he let the stupid angel in and for some dumb reason expected him to stay, to be around now that Sammy is gone. Dean frowns and rubs his hand across his face. When did he become so dependent on an angel of the freakin' lord for companionship? He shakes his head slightly and runs a hand through his hair.
He reaches into the box of tapes playing passenger and plucks one at random before shoving it into the deck unceremoniously. He gazes down for a split second and when he looks back at the road he's momentarily confused because he doesn't remember there being another blinking 'School Zone' sign this far from the school itself. By the time he realizes the yellow flashing lights are attached to another car, it's too late to do anything but swerve so he slams on the brakes and wrenches the wheel to the left. The lights of the truck in the other lane blind him briefly and he braces himself for the inevitable. He randomly thinks that maybe he'll get to see Cas again sooner than expected.
But the crash doesn't come.
And for a second, he's a little bit disappointed.
He opens his eyes and finds himself behind the wheel, knuckles still white, the Impala parked and idling on the side of a road a couple streets over from Lisa's.
"Hello, Dean."
He nearly jumps out of his skin, flattening his back against the driver's side door as he turns to face the passenger seat.
Cas, his face blank as ever, sits straight as a rod, the box or tapes settled onto his lap as if no time has passed since Sammy went into the pit and he pulled his piece of shit vanishing act.
"What the actual FUCK Cas!" Dean's heart is beating out a samba and he's inexplicably pissed off. The angel furrows his brow and frowns.
"I said, hello Dean."
"I know what the fuck you said, Cas. I want to know what the FUCK just happened!"
The head tilt. The fucking head tilt. Dean can't believe how much he missed an expression he could easily get from a dog, but seeing the confusion set on Castiel's face is fucking perfection and his anger softens. Just a tiny bit.
"I don't understand. You called my name and then I saved you." Cas shifts slightly, the damn trench coat making a noise against the Impala's seat. He looks oddly more uncomfortable than usual.
"You saved me—wait. I didn't call out your name," Dean asserts.
Cas squints at him. "Yes, you did, Dean. I heard it."
"Well I didn't fucking say it, Cas."
The angel sighs. "Maybe not out loud."
"I—" Dean splutters. He did think about Cas right there at the end. How good it would be to see him again. To hear the deep timbre of the angel's voice and make fun of his lack of pop culture knowledge. The conversation stills and the tape switches over and soft piano drifts out of the radio.
It's 'Desperado' by The Eagles. Dean didn't even know he owned an Eagles tape.
Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?
An audible swallow cuts though the music and Dean realizes a second later that it was his own. Cas is still staring at him, his bright blue eyes trained on Dean, his strong fingers clutching the box of tapes. The ex-hunter swallows again, his heat racing. He's not sure if it's from the near brush with death or the calculating gaze he's currently being subjected to.
I know that you got your reasons
These things that are pleasin' you
Can hurt you somehow.
And fucking Desperado. Of course it was this fucking song. If any song was Dean's fucking life it was this one. He's been alone his whole life, because at some point everyone has left him. Dad left for hunting and alcohol and anger. Sammy left for Stanford and Ruby and Hell. And Cas—he doesn't know where Cas fucking went but he was gone.
Dean drops the angel's stare. "You left." He glances back at Castiel's face. He's not surprised when he sees confusion flicker across Jimmy's borrowed face but the flash of guilt does give him pause.
"Dean, I—"
He waves a hand. "No, it's okay. Heaven stuff. I understand."
"Dean—"
The anger is back. "I said I get it. It was just hard, you know? You've been around with us for so long and then Sam—" Dean swallows thickly, "—Sam was gone and you were gone too." He shifts his gaze away, looking out the windshield.
And freedom, oh freedom well, that's just some people talkin'
Your prison is walking through this world all alone
Fuck you very much, Desperado.
"Dean look at me." And for some ungodly reason, Dean does. Cas is looking at him with something caught in between disbelief and exasperation settling on his features. He sets the box of tapes on the floor, somehow never breaking eye contact because apparently Castiel is a fucking ninja.
"You are correct in that I did leave the Earth to return to Heaven." Dean wants to roll his eyes, but something on the angel's face stops him. Cas continues, "But that does not mean that it was what I desired."
"What you desired? What does that even mean, Cas?" Dean is barely keeping his head above water now. The fucking song floating through the car is getting to him, playing with his head.
Cas tilts his head again. "Do you remember the first time we met and I told you that you didn't think you deserved to be saved?"
Of course Dean remembers that. He remembers the chill that swept down his spine because Castiel had been right.
"You still think that, don't you?" Cas's voice is soft.
You're losin' all your highs and lows
Ain't it funny how the feeling goes away?
Dean wants to tear his eyes away from the angel's but he feels like he's trapped. His body won't obey what he wants it to do.
"Do you know why I was the one who dragged you out of Hell?" Castiel is speaking to him like he's a child now. Dean shakes his head slowly and the corners of Cas's mouth quirk up slightly. "It was because of all the angels in my garrison, I was the only one who volunteered."
"You—you volunteered? Why the hell would you do that?"
Cas gives him another small smile. "Because, I knew before I even saw your soul shining in Hell."
Dean's mouth is dry. "Knew what?" he croaks.
"That you were good. And you deserved to be back with Sam and Bobby. Heaven had work for you, but I volunteered because I knew your title of 'The Righteous Man' was justified and that you deserved to have love." He says it all so matter-of-factly.
Dean chokes on a response feeling utterly speechless for once in his life and the car falls silent except for the music.
It may be rainin', but there's a rainbow above you
You better let somebody love you,
You better let somebody love you, before it's too late
And he's never been one for coincidences before. Why start now?
So he reaches across the seat and drags Cas by the lapels to meet him in a kiss. He's never loved The Eagles more.