A/N: I was thinking of a more humorous tag, involving Cas trying to get a cell phone (by the way, how funny was Cas' outgoing message? I'm still giggling about that! And Cas had the best lines in last night's episode.) But this came out. And, it's rambling. And probably OOC.
Disclaimer: Don't own anything. And remember: Repeat to yourself "This is just a show; I should really just relax." Good advice for me as well. (By the way, I'm going through every MST3K experiment I can find, either on YouTube or my own discs. So, my mind is pretty twisted right now).
Something I Can Rely On To Get Home
Dean had to get out of Blue Earth. Now.
It wasn't just that his mind was so jumbled that he didn't think he was ever going to be clear again. It wasn't just feeling empty inside. It wasn't just that Sam kept looking at him like he would smote him any moment now (not that it wasn't a bad idea. Sometimes.) or he kept running after Dean asking him if he was now Michael's tuxedo. Or because they had a broken, drunk, fallen angel on their hands now. Or because the world was ending and there wasn't a damn thing Dean could do himself to stop it.
It was a combination of all those things.
Or maybe it was none of those things. Maybe he just needed air.
He didn't know why he was able to gank the Whore of Babylon. Or Blue Earth. He knew he was balancing on a thin line between keeping his sanity and completely losing it. Because agreeing to become Michael's vessel was about the most insane thing he could think of.
Of course, the angels kept screwing with him. How else was he able to kill her? It's not like he is a servant of God. That, in itself, was insane.
His phone lit up. Sam. He hit the ignore button and let it go to voicemail. Sam hung up without leaving a message.
It reminded Dean of those phone calls while Sam was at Stanford. He would hang up without leaving a message. It kind of helped to know that Sam was all right. Even just to hear his voice on an answering machine.
He didn't have a direction in mind. He just pointed the Impala and went. He was pretty much going where the Impala was going to end up.
It seemed oddly fitting. He had no control of anything anymore. He hadn't had control of anything for years. At least since he went to Hell. He had no control there. He didn't have control over anything now.
He also started trying to pick out the time he lost control of everything. When did he get so cursed? Was it when he sold his soul? He knew that was a massive, screw-up. But other people sold their souls. They didn't cause the apocalypse. Yeah, he was the "Righteous Man." Whatever that meant. He was destined.
He wished that he wasn't destined. He never believed in the destiny crap before. But, signs were pointing to his destination. He could continue to close his eyes and try to ignore them.
Other guys his age have family worries. He knew that feeling. They have job problems. Yep. So, why did it feel like he was alone?
He wondered what he was holding out for? He saw the way this apocalypse was going, both in 2014 and now. Blue Earth couldn't be the only town affected by the apocalypse. Two people died, and he could have prevented those deaths. What he was doing wasn't working.
By himself, he didn't have a way to stop the apocalypse and Lucifer. But, he had a tool that he could use. The ends justified the means.
His phone rang again. Sam again. Once more, he hit ignore and let it go to voicemail. This time, Sam left a message. Dean would listen to it later.
He had an idea to leave a message on Cas' phone, asking him to look out for Sam, no matter what happened to Dean. But, he figured he wouldn't need to do that. Cas would take in upon himself to look out for Sam.
If Cas would survive the angelic hangover. Or if Cas would survive this additional failure from Dean. After all, Dean knew he was the one who destroyed everything the angel held dear. And he was deeply sorry.
Dean wondered what would happen once he got where he was going. Who would miss him? Sam, but if everything went according to plan, Sam would be half of the world that survived, and he could move on to that normal life. Cas may miss him, but the angel would be restored to his proper place.
His phone rang again. This time it was Cas' phone number. Dean's hand hovered over it before he hit the ignore button, letting it go to voicemail. Cas would try to talk him out of this decision, and he didn't think the angel could handle another disappointment or failure. Better to just do it and get it over with.
Dean wondered how much coffee it would take to sober up a drunk angel.
And once it's over, if survivors would be able to go on with their lives, not really knowing what happened, expect for a select few, Dean would be happy. He could save as many as he could. More than he thought possible. And, that's how it should be. After all, there weren't very many who would miss him if he were gone.
Dean's phone rang again. This time, it was Bobby's number. Sam pulled out the big guns. Dean hit ignore again, dreading that voicemail.
His swirling mind finally settled down, and he was soothed by the black top, two-lane road and the pleasant sound that the Impala's wheels made on it. The old girl had been his home since he was four. The only family he really could rely on. He couldn't make Sam carry his burden. That wouldn't be fair. Cas also could only do so much.
He was craving something more.
His mind drifted to a pleasant dream. Lisa was in the passenger's seat, smiling at him, arguing about him never wanting to use a map. Ben was in the backseat, playing a game. Ben looked up and smiled at him in the rear view mirror.
Maybe Ben was helping out with his half-sibling. Dean thought a daughter would be all right. A girl who didn't know how much he had messed everything up. But, she was theoretical. Just a dream.
Lisa and Ben were in the here and now. Although he doubted they would miss him if the inevitable happened, they were the line of fire. Because everyone he ever cared about seemed to die horrible deaths.
He would make sure that they were safe first, and then he could protect the other innocents in this. Half a world was better than no world, right? The costs—his life—were vastly outweighed by the positives—the lives of the world.
Sam, Cas, and Bobby knew the score. They could protect themselves and each other.
The only problem he could see—how can an archangel use an empty, undeserving, unbelieving shell? He might figure out the logistics of it, but since he never had control of anything, why should this be any different?
He sped up to arrive at his destination. He knew where he was going now. And what to do when he got there.
End.
A/N: Rambling. I apologize. And the title comes from David Cook's "Light On."