Hi, guys, so this is my first shot at a Destiel fanfic - or any fanfic for that matter. This first chapter may not be extremely captivating but i promise it'll get better afterwards. I changed some things about the storyline - no Amelia, for starters.. I'll let you find out. So yeah, tell me what you think, and if there's anything i should change, let me know by leaving a review !

I own nothing (sadly).

So here you go !


'What the fu–'

Sam didn't have the time to finish his sentence as the tall figure in the doorway stumbled towards him, nearly tripping on his torn jeans. Sam took hold of Ruby's knife, clutching it, ready to attack. The silhouette, unrecognizable in the dim light, lifted its eyes and met Sam's suspicious gaze. He took a step forward, holding out his hand, as if reaching for him.

The hunter's eyes narrowed, he was stepping back, keeping a safe distance between him and the stranger. Sam internally slapped himself for not keeping some holy water in his pockets, in case situations like that happened. He had no idea who – or what – was in front of him and unless he deliberately came closer, therefore put himself in danger, he had no way to know what he was dealing with. He was tempted by just lunging to the guy, but he remembered that once someone had told him to ask questions first. And depending on the answer, perhaps kill afterward.

'Who the hell are you ?' he pressed, his tone as rough and aggressive as he could manage. He heard an inaudible answer from the man.

'What do you want ?' he ordered, doing his best to maintain a few feets between himself and the intruder.

The breathy reply finally found its way to Sam's ears.

'Sammy, please.'

A look of confusion crossed the hunter's face, and he squinted his eyes even more to try and see the face of the man. Their eyes met again, and the emerald green of the guy's irises glimmered in the feeble light of the lamp. Sam dropped his knife.

'Wha – Dean ?'

The other hunter sighed too heavily and cringed in pain, sliding down against the wall. His brother opened his mouth to say something, but he didn't even have time to react as flapping sounds echoed around the room. Sam snapped his head around, and the next instant, a man in a tan trench coat zapped in and fell to his knees. He seemed equally as exhausted as Dean. The man who had been holding a knife, all his senses in alert barely seconds ago, was stuck still, dumbfounded. He was mouthing nonsense, his brows were furrowed deeply, but it only took him a few seconds to come back to his senses. The angel had fallen to the floor, face pressed against the parquet, unmoving. Sam rushed to his brother who's breathing heavily, eyes shut. He dragged him over to an armchair in the center of the motel room.

'Dean ? Dean, tell me what happened,' the man insisted, relief and confusion obvious in his voice. He tapped his hand softly to his brother's cheek, hoping it would wake him.

'Tired,' Dean slurred with in hoarse tone, extending the last syllable. It was obvious he was trying to keep his eyes open, but his eyelids seemed too heavy, and soon his eyes rolled back in his head and his neck tilted to the side. Sam took a moment to take in the fact that his brother, that has been missing for a bit more than a year, was now right there, in front of him, the angel with him. They had vanished with Dick Roman, and Sam was left alone with no clue of where they could've went.

Dozens of bruises were covering the man's body, his eyes were swollen and dark trails of blood were drying on his face. Anxiety soared in Sam's veins, he was wide-eyed, his mind working a hundred mile per hour to figure out what to do.

After making sure his brother was truly here, alive and whole, and that he wasn't just going barking mad, Sam walked over to Castiel, bending over his unconscious body. If it weren't for the unmistakable coat, Sam would probably have had trouble admitting this was an angel. He was covered in dirt and blood, though it seemed to be mainly somebody else's. He only had minor cuts on his hands and face. His position on the floor kind of mirrorred a tortured soul's, his back arched and his fists and teeth clenched. Castiel's lips were parted, the sound of his uneven breathing filling the room. His eyes were only slightly open, showing the white part of his eyes, and his brows were furrowed. The eyeballs were moving behind his closed eyelids, as if the angel was in a deep, dreadful nightmare. The sight sent shivers down Sam's spine.

Sliding his hands under his friend's arms, Sam carried him rather clumsily to his bed and lied the limp body down. The springs bounced and creaked under the angel's weight. As soon as he was on the mattress, Castiel's entire body tensed again and returned to its former position. Exhaling loudly, Sam stood in the room, his eyes darting from Dean, slumped in the armchair, sound asleep (and slightly snoring), to Castiel, shaking, fist tightened around air, jaw tight.

He flopped down in a chair and craddled his head in his hands with a desperate but still somewhat relieved sigh. Hundreds of questions were flooding his mind, and even though he had made sure he was not crazy, he kept glancing at the sleeping forms in his room, hoping they'd not vanish.

Unable to fully calm down and get a restful night's sleep, Sam grabbed a book and sat at the small table, reading under the feeble light of the bedside lamp.

Oh, he really couldn't wait for explanations.

He eventually fell asleep on the table, eyes red and puffy from the lack of sleep.


The loud thumping sound of his blood flowing through his body had never been so irritating. Dean felt like his head was about to explode, his temples were pulsing fiercely. The stinging taste of blood in his mouth made him grimace. His throat felt like sandpaper whenever he tried to swallow. He cracked open an eyelid, his vision was unfocused for a minute and the pain coursing through his chest made it hard for him to concentrate.

Eventually, his gaze fell on Sam, his arms laid across the table, still holding a book in his hands. The sight of his sleeping brother was touching, and Dean thought it was one of those rare moments when his brother seemed peaceful. It did feel like he hadn't seen his only family in an eternity. The corners of his mouth twitched lightly. Dean cleared his throat to call out Sam, but the action sent him through a terrible coughing fit, making the pain in his ribs triple – and efficiently waking his brother up, at least..

The tall man turned his head to face his brother, damn near choking in the armchair. The coughing ceased eventually, and Dean could finally stare back at his sibling...who was smiling.

'Well, don't you look like shit,' Sam chuckled, but the fondness was clear in his voice. His tone was saying I missed you, idiot, and the feeling couldn't be more obvious, even if Sam had wanted it.

The muscles of Dean's face were hurting a little from the beaming, but he really couldn't care less.

Home, Dean thought, his eyes closing again. He breathed in the scent of old sheets and dirt. Oh, motels, how I've missed you.

Dean wanted to throw back a snarky remark, but his last attempt at talking had ended up pretty badly, so instead he mimed a drinking gesture. His brother seemed to understand as he stood up, yawning and stretching, and went to fetch him some water.

After having gulped probably ten gallons of water, Dean sighed heavily and tried speaking again. His voice was raspy and low, but at least a sound's coming out and he smiled.

'Hi.'

Sam, who seemed to have awakened fully, was staring at his brother with prying eyes.

Sammy, please not now.

'So,' the hunter started, 'mind telling me where you've been for the past year and a half ?'

Dean's face became deadly serious. He frowned slightly and pursed his lips. With another deep, loud exhale, the hunter replied.

'Purgatory.'

Waiting for a sequel of some sorts, Sam just continued his staring. After long seconds of silence, it dawned on Sam that his brother was obviously not planning on expatiating.

'Could you, uh, I don't know, develop a tiny bit ? Please ?' he pried. Sam's politeness sounded fake to Dean's ears, which only caused him to snap.

'I went to Purgatory when I stood too close to exploding Dick, spent a year in there, became best buddies with Leviathans, came back, period.'

The moment the words came out, Dean regretted it.

His brother looked confused and upset, a tiny bit hurt by Dean's reaction. Instead of spatting out an answer just as rude and aggressive, Sam took a deep breath.

'Look, Dean. From what I get here, it was far from easy, but help me out here,' he pleaded. 'I'm trying to understand. You – you were gone for a whole year, I had no way to know where you were. I tried, I swear I tried, I read every book about Leviathans and demons and nothing was explaining how you could've disappeared. Don't be like that, I just want to know what happened.'

'I know, I – I'm sorry, Sammy, I just, it...' Dean stuttered. 'It was really tough. We killed Dick and the next thing I know I was in this place, it was night and I heard those noises, monsters, footsteps and I was alone because Cas had...' Dean stopped abruptly in his rambling.

'Where's Cas.' Dean didn't even make it a question, it's a demand, an order, tell me where Cas is, right, freaking, now.

A fond smile spread on the hunter's face. 'He's here, don't worry. He's unconscious, though, I – Dean what are you doing ?' Sam sighed in amused despair at the sight of his brother wriggling in his seat.

'Standing up.'

Sam was now up on his feet next to the chair, looking down on Dean.

'No such luck, so far, huh ?' he chuckled as he extended his hand in front of him. Dean pretended he hadn't heard the comment, grasped his brother's arm, stood up gawkily and managed staying that way with something resembling balance. Sam tilted his head toward the bed, where the angel was lying.

He tried to maneuver himself to his friend, his brother observing him with non-flickering concentration, and failed miserably. Sam suppressed a chuckle, when he was internally really just giggling, and helped Dean up, again.

'I can hear you laughing, Sammy, and it's pretty fucking loud,' Dean grumbled, but he really was just happy that his brother was still a total jerk and had obviously decided not to treat him like a cripple.

With Sam supporting his weight on his shoulder, they went to check on the angel. Castiel was still in the same position, and the sight made Sam sigh heavily. Dean's brows furrowed and he tore his eyes from the ghoulish body.

'What's up with him ?' he asked, worry distinct in his voice.

'I don't know,' the hunter admited with another loud exhale. 'He's been like that since you guys popped up here.'

'What can we do ?' Dean said, although he doubted they had any guide book about angelic seizures, or whatever the hell this was.

'I don't know, I'm far from being educated about celestial beings. I suppose we just have to wait it out.' Dean didn't like this idea in the least. Seeing their friend, his friend this way was bad enough, and knowing they couldn't do anything about it was even more outraging.

Sam was tugging at his shirt, urging him to go sit back down – probably in order to fish some more data about Dean's trip to Purgatory. Dropping his gaze to the floor, Dean indulged and followed his brother. He didn't give him the time to try and ease his questions in the conversation.

'What was I saying ?' he asked, but it's a rhetorical question, and he kept going reluctantly. 'So, I was alone. I survived the night, I don't even know how. There's really not much to tell, Sam, I spent a year slaying vampires, Leviathans, rugarus, all kinds of monster we used to hunt, y'know. At some point I...' Dean hesitated, fidgeting his jacket. Should he tell the truth ?

'I found Cas. Total accident. He was just there and he said he knew a way to get out. A portal, or something. We eventually found it, Leviathans were everywhere. It looked bad, Sammy. Really bad, it didn't feel like we could get out in one piece.' With a quick glance to his brother's bed where the angel laid, Dean added: 'But we did. We did get out and here we are.'

Sam looked confused, his gaze was traveling around the room.

'Wait, how can it be that simple to get out of Purgatory ? That's...Look Dean, I'm really glad you got outta there, but that sounds a little too easy, don't you think ?'

'That's what I thought too, man,' Dean agreed. 'And the first time Cas mentioned that way out, he told me there was no way he could leave, too. He just kept saying that if he came with me, it'd kill him, that it'd be too dangerous.' He frowned even more and stared at his brother right in the eyes. 'I have no idea how he came out, Sam.'

'Maybe he got lucky, but the trip drained him and now he's in this...weird, creepy comatose state,' Sam said with a reassuring smile, gesturing vaguely to the bed. 'Maybe he was afraid, so he told himself he couldn't get out.'

Dean snorted.

'There's no such thing as luck out there. 'Fight or die' is the freaking motto, no in between, no random, no chance involved. Something's off about this.'

'We've been lucky for our entire life, with us it's all about luck. Look Dean, why don't we figure it out later, because right now, I just want to enjoy a good beer and a pizza with my brother.'

The hunter beamed at him, his previous worry suddenly vanishing at the mention of food. The issue was still hanging in the air, but it was pushed aside for the moment. The two men sat – slouched – on the couch and watched football for the major part of the day, Dean devouring his pizzas, plural, and emptying a six-pack in several hours. He glanced every now and then to check on the angel, and sighed when each time, he saw the body hadn't moved an inch.

Eventually, after an entire afternoon of laziness, Dean realized that one of the things missing in Purgatory was hygiene. He was craving for a good shower. He stood up and locked himself in the bathroom. He stripped quickly and stepped into the bathtub, turning the water maximum. With a rather loud groan that he hoped his brother didn't hear, he let the hot stream soothe his sore muscles. His palm was pressing against the ceramic wall and Dean could feel his entire body give in to the warmth and suddenly his legs felt weak, his nerves finally relaxing after months of constant fear and tension.

The next second, Dean was crying.

It wasn't big sobs that would wrack his body, it wasn't loud wails. It was silent, tears streamed like a torrent down his cheeks, it was simply the evacuation of all that had happened this past year, the exhaustion from fighting some of the most terrible beasts that God had ever created, the relief of having found his brother, the concern for his friend lying unconscious on this bed, the disbelief of surviving it all.

Dean stayed forehead pressed against the shower wall for nearly an hour, doing his best to empty his head and stop the tears from falling. He stepped out of the shower, maybe even more tired than when he got in but somewhat relaxed. He checked the small clock above the mirror. It showed eight p.m.

Wait what ?

A sharp knock on the door startled the hunter. He caught his breath and answered in a raspy voice.

'What ?'

'Uh, just checking you're still alive. You've been in there for, like, three hours.' Sam chuckled a little. 'You okay, man ?'

'Yeah, I'm good,' Dean replied, and he was, he was good. Most of his life was a mess, but he was alive, Cas would be fine, and he was considering the fact that they had gotten out of Purgatory out of sheer luck. After all, he and his brother freaking stopped the Apocalypse.

Chance had to have something to do with it.

'Dean, come on !' a muffled voice said from the main room. 'Only one burger left !'

Dean jumped in his jeans, threw a shirt over his shoulders and hurried to the couch. He slumped heavily on the cushions, took a huge gulp of his beer and leaned his head back with a sigh, glancing at Cas.

'What's wrong ?' his brother asked absentmindedly, his eyes not leaving the football game running on the screen.

'Nothing,' Dean grinned. 'I'm in heaven,' he added before taking a huge bite of his sandwich.