The Present
Dean wasn't sure how long Castiel has been staring at him. All he knows is that he lost his temper, threw a few glass items on the floor, and broke down. It was heart-wrenching for Castiel to witness the headstrong and valorous hunter erupt in body-shaking sobs, really, and the emotion was altogether a sign of Dean losing it. What 'it' is, he didn't exactly know or care at the moment. All he knew was that he never felt so incompetent; he didn't know how to help Dean, even though he wanted to more than anything. Dean didn't care if Castiel was watching him; he was determined to throw a tantrum until he felt okay enough to stop.
"Dean..." Castiel murmured sympathetically.
But Dean kept on sobbing; he didn't even slow down.
"Dean I am sorry...whatever it is. I intended to call Sam for you, but I am not sure how this plastic device functions."
Then the crying slowed and Dean screamed at the top of his lungs, "NO! DON'T YOU EVER DO THAT!"
His bloodshot emerald eyes were pleading with Castiel, but his voice was demanding.
Castiel almost jumped in surprise, and slowly placed Dean's cellphone on the wooden table.
Dean sensed Castiel's shock with his tone and tried to retract the claws. It was too late.
"Cass...I'm-"
He heard the sound of wings fluttering, and in an instant, he was alone in the cheap motel room.
It was a summary of his entire life, actually; alone in a cheap motel. What did he have to live for? He would never have a white-picket-fence-life, no matter how hard he tried, and he did try. He was a hunter, and being a hunter meant losing everything you never knew you had, including your own sanity; that was just how it was going to be. Lisa and Ben were gone. His father, his mother, and Sam were gone. Cass was gone too. And of course, Bobby. Bobby. He tried to calm down, but his bawling just increased until his body was curled into a ball on the floor, face pressing into the suspiciously stained carpet, and drowning in his own tears.
One Day Earlier
"Dean, we need to talk about this," Sam pleaded with Dean.
"No, Sam. I've made up my mind a while ago. I want nothing to do with you. Or Cass. You both just need to leave me alone."
He pressed "END CALL" and tossed his phone across the room.
He said he was done and he meant it too. It was just better for him to hunt the supernatural alone. 'Hunting buddies' or whatever was a stupid idea. Who ever thought of that to begin with? "Oh, you want to gank evil, scary creatures and do other manly things while risking our necks in the process too?
"Yes, why don't we hunt together and become really close! Then we can go into depression when one of us inevitably dies!"
"I like the way you think, buddy."
Ridiculous.
He really missed Bobby. Ever since he...went, Dean hasn't been the same. He couldn't bring himself to say it. Died. It's only been a month, and he still replays that moment in his head every night as he tries to sleep, and every morning as he tries to haul his ass out of bed.
Exactly One Month Earlier
"It's only a day. Death said for just one day. You're gonna have to do this alone," said Dean to Bobby as they began to part ways. But Bobby stopped him, and put his hand on Dean's shoulder.
"Wait, boy, I need you to know somethin'. If I find him...well...what I'm trying to say is, we better pray it's not me who finds him. As of a year ago, Sam has turned into a monster. And Dean, we hunt monsters. I can't think of what will happen if I'm forced to kill him-"
"No, listen Bobby-"
"No, boy, you listen! I know you hate sappy chick flick moments as much as I do but I've gotta get this off my chest. I love you and Sam like my own two sons, if I had any, and I can't think of of it coming to killing Sam. But there isn't another way. He's soul-less, Dean; he's not himself. He hasn't been for a year. I know today Death's made you his little bitch so you won't be here, but I want you to know that the next time I see you, I'll be really sorry. Listen to me boy, I really am."
"I know, Bobby, I know. Just uh...take care of yourself or whatever."
"You got it...idjit."
The two men nodded to each other and parted ways, each with death on his agenda.
After finally deciding to take the little girl's life, Dean sulked around doing what he pleased because no one could see him anyway. Man, being Death was tough.
"Dean..." Tessa said. "We have to go. We have a new one."
"Can't we just let people live, I mean, what's the point in all this?"
"The point is that you're going to be Death for a day or Sam won't get his soul back."
"He might not even get the chance to."
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing, forget it. So uh...do reapers pray or what? 'Cuz I could really use an extra pair of hands."
"No, Dean; we don't particularly ask for anything. We just do our job day in and day out."
He nodded in disappointment.
"But I can try." She smiled and held up her hands.
"What do you want me to pray for?" she asked.
"Now, I'm not a devout man or anything, and I'm not saying I believe in this praying thing. But desperate times, Tessa."
She nodded her head in agreement.
"Pray for uh...pray that Bobby won't kill Sam. Pray for Sam to be alright. Pray for me to get my brother back."
"You don't want anything for yourself?"
Silence.
She nodded again and started muttering unintelligibly under her breath. As soon as she and Dean finished, Tessa opened her eyes in surprise.
"What?"
"We have a new name," she said suddenly.
"Okay, give it here. Let me see."
She shook her head violently,
"Tessa."
"We have to go."
She touched his shoulder gently and the next thing he knew, they were both standing in a deserted car junkyard.
"Well? Where is he? Let's get this show on the road! I need to get back to being me."
"Dean...look around," Tessa said quietly.
So he did.
"What...what is this? Why am I home? I thought you said we had another name."
She nodded and closed her eyes briefly.
"Tessa...let me see the name."
Then something unexpected happened. Tears began streaming down Tessa's face. Dean's chest began to rise and fall rapidly as he struggled to take his breath. His hyperventilation scared him, but he couldn't stop. What was going to happen to Sam? Bobby did warn him after all. He had to learn to let him go. He wasn't Sam. But he wasn't sure he was prepared.
"Sam. Oh, no, Sam."
He balled his fists until the white of his knuckles threatened to disconnect from the skin on his fingers. Ouch.
"Come on, Dean," Tessa urged, tugging his leather jacket.
They walked into the house Dean has considered his home for a while now. There were too many memories here.
He took a huge breath and filled his lungs with the familiar, musty smell of the place. It wouldn't be the same after this, not really.
Tessa led the way through the house and to the top of the basement where the panic room was. Dean was annoyed that although he's lived here longer, Tessa seemed to be showing him around, not the other way around.
They began down the stairs with hushed tones until Tessa pointed out that they couldn't be heard anyways.
Once they were down, they looked around for where Sam or Bobby might have been, but they saw nothing.
"Is this some kind of joke?" Dean asked Tessa impatiently.
"Wait. We're a bit early is all."
Then they heard Bobby yelling from the floor above, "Don't say here's Johnny."
"I gotta do this, Bobby. I'm sorry. You shouldn't have tried to kill me. And you shouldn't have cornered yourself."
"I didn't," Bobby replied and the next thing they knew, Sam flew down from a trap door and into the basement.
He searched for anything to break the door open with, but even the metal crowbar wouldn't budge.
"Reinforced steel core, titanium kick plate. Get comfy," Bobby retorted and added, "You want to explain what this is about?"
"I just uh...I have to do this Bobby."
"No, Sam, dammit!" Dean said, but he obviously couldn't hear him.
"Says who?" Bobby inquired.
There was silence as Sam acclimated to the dark, vile basement and sat on the stairs.
"If Dean shoves that soul back in me, think how bad that could really be. It's not like I want to kill you Bobby; you've been nothing but good to me."
"Then don't, Sam. Don't. Otherwise he'll be forced to kill you. Please, Sam." Dean was losing it.
Bobby and Sam talked awhile through the door about how unreasonable and impulsive Sam was being and how that left Bobby no choice but to take action. Sam said that he had no choice but to do this.
Then Sam said something that made Dean cringe.
"Dean doesn't care about me. He just cares about his little brother, Sammy, burning in hell. He'll kill me to get that other guy back."
Bobby started to tell him that he understands how scary everything must be. But he wasn't giving him a choice. Then suddenly, Sam stopped talking.
"Sam?"
No response.
"Sam?"
Nothing.
"Balls!" Bobby exclaimed and headed down the stairs. He found traces of Sam's blood, but not Sam. He began to follow the trail of blood outside. The trail ended at the foot of the old shed. Just as he was about to open the door, Sam knocked him out from behind.
"What? N-no. Sam, no, what're you doing!" Dean exclaimed but Sam didn't even flinch.
After about fifteen minutes, Bobby finally regained consciousness and found himself tied tightly to a chair.
"Listen to me," Bobby panted. "You don't want to do this. I've been like a father to you, boy. Somewhere inside you've got to know that."
"Sorry," Sam said, but he didn't mean it. He positioned the knife in his hands and prepared to plunge straight for Bobby's throat when time froze.
"Now, Dean. Touch him. Take his life," Tessa said.
"What? NO! It's Sam, I was supposed to take Sam's life. Sam, what the hell are you doing, stop!"
"No, it was always Bobby. Dean, now, or the next one to go is your brother."
"No! Bobby isn't going to die today."
"He is, Dean, either way. Kill him now! You know what will happen if you don't! More people will die, and the balance will be ruptured."
"Screw the damn balance; this is Bobby! I'm taking off the friggin' thing."
"No! If you dont, Death will. I can't freeze time forever. It has to happen now, Dean. I'm so sorry."
"No you're not, bitch," he said with tears in his eyes, and he reached over and touched Bobby's forehead just as Sam plunged the knife into his throat.
"Is that me?" Bobby asked as he looked down at his body. "Dean? Is that you?"
"Hey, Bobby," Dean said sullenly.
"I'm-I'm dead?"
Dean glanced over at Tessa and back to Bobby. He nodded his head.
"That idjit of a brother you got killed me!"
"Is that your last, ghostly request? The whole "avenge me" kind of thing?" Dean tried to joke, but his voice betrayed his real emotions.
"The boy is nothing without his soul. Make sure he gets it back," he said to Dean, and then to Tessa, "I'm ready to go."
"No, wait Bobby! That's it? You're just gonna go?"
"I sorta died, Dean. That's what happens."
"Tessa. Give us a moment."
She nodded her head and disappeared.
"Bobby...I killed you. Don't you have anything to say to me?"
"Dean, your brother killed me. Well, the soul-less version of him anyway."
"I...I don't know what to do, Bobby. I should have taken off the damn ring! I can't deal with Sam by myself. He's lost it, Bobby! I'm...I'm confused and I don't know how to stop driving people away. Everyone always leaves because of me; I can't keep doing this, Bobby. I can't. I need you, Bobby. I-"
Bobby slapped Dean across the face, hard.
"What the hell, Bobby!"
"Did you feel that, boy? That was me; here. So don't you start talking nonsense. I won't be leaving you! You can do it if anyone can; he's your brother! And you best as hell avenge me 'cuz I'll haunt your ass if you give up now! Your brother needs you."
"How can you still think about Sam after what he's done to you."
"Because I meant what I said earlier, boy. I love you AND Sam like my own two sons. And just 'cuz I died, don't mean I'm dead, you got me, boy?"
He nodded slowly although he had no idea what Bobby meant. Tessa then reappeared.
"I can't delay this any longer. I have to take him now, Dean."
He didn't say anything in response, he just stared blankly.
Bobby nodded and turned to go.
"Oh, one more thing, Dean. Whatever you do, make sure Sam doesn't do anything with my blood. And keep him away from Balthazar."
Before Dean could even ask him what he meant, he was gone.
He's been alone before; he lived by himself too. But until this moment, he never realized that he never fully understood how being alone really felt. Now that he did, it was worse than any pain he's ever felt. Worse than when his father died. Because then, he at least had Sam and Bobby, which made it better because that meant they could avenge his death together. But now, he couldn't avenge Bobby's death because that would mean killing Sam. And don't get me wrong, that didn't seem like such a bad idea just about now, but if he did kill soul-less Sam, Bobby's death would have meant nothing. And that really is all he had to hold onto at the moment- that Bobby died for something bigger than this. He should have taken off the ring. He should have done anything but take Bobby's life. But what choice did he have? His name was on the list. He would have died either way.
It was just three more hours until he could take off the ring, and retrieve Sam's soul it's in him, Dean was determined to take the Impala and get the hell away from everything. He was still Death, so when Tessa came back, he knew he had to continue working despite the...complications.
As soon as the three hours were over, and he was facing Death, he demanded, "I did it. I didn't take off the ring. Now give Sam his soul back."
"I was going to give you Sam's soul back either way, Dean. Sam is too similar Lucifer this way. It pesters me."
Dean didn't say anything. What in the world could he do anyways? Kill Death? Nah, too ironic. Besides, you can't kill a Horseman.
So he just stood speechless, his nostrils flared with rage. He still didn't say anything. There weren't enough words in the world capable of expressing how he felt at that moment. He had to keep it together, though.
"Let us go, shall we?" Death said, and they appeared in Bobby's basement.
"WHAT? No! Why is death here!? I DID WHAT YOU ASKED! WHY DIDN'T IT WORK!" Sam was yelling towards the sky. "YOU LIED TO ME YOU SICK BASTARD! I DID IT-PATRICIDE- IT SHOULD HAVE WORKED!"
"How do you know it didn't?" Death asked him.
"Because you're here; you shouldn't be! I don't want it; I don't want my soul!"
"Funny thing about that is: I didn't ask you.'" Dean grabbed the butt of his rifle and whacked Sam on the head, sending him into temporary unconsciousness.
Dean then carried him into the panic room and strapped him up while he was still out.
"Make it quick; I can't look."
"It's peculiar how being the little bug you are, you still think you're entitled to an opinion. Speak again and your brother's soul remains with Lucifer and Michael."
Dean kept quiet and stood outside the panic room as Death returned Sam's soul. Sam screamed and kicked and whimpered, but that soul was going in whether or not he approved.
"Alright. He'll be up and around in about a week. I'll be seeing you, Dean."
"Hopefully sooner rather than later," he muttered under his breath, but no one heard.
In a few days, he would call Cass to come and take the wheel. He wasn't going to be there when Sam woke up, he would make sure of that. He knew he wouldn't even be able to look at Sam. So Dean took care of him and covered him at night when sensed that he might be cold, but he never spoke a word to his unconscious body. On his last day, he prayed to Castiel.
"Oh, Castiel, get your feathery ass down to Earth because I need you to take care of Sam. He..uh..got his soul back and I don't really have anyone else to ask. I don't want to talk about it either but uh-"
"Dean?" Castiel asked.
"Cass. You came."
"Yes, I did."
"Okay, you're getting worse at this entrance thing."
"I was in mid-battle, Dean. Why did you summon me?
"You know why."
"You need me to assist you in taking care of your brother?"
"No, not assist. I need you to take the wheel."
Cass just stared at him blankly.
"You know...take full control."
Still nothing.
"I don't think I'm understanding you properly."
"I'm leaving. As in sayonara. Goodbye. Have a nice life." Dean turned to leave when Cass put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. Then he looked into Dean's eyes and put a hand on his chest. He closed his eyes and concentrated on something.
"Cass, what-"
"You are hurt. I can feel it."
"Okay this is awkward," Dean said as he uncomfortably shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Castiel's hand was still on Dean's chest.
"Cass are you done-"
"Dean. Shut your pie hole."
Dean's eyes got wide in shock. The picture didn't quite fit; Cass didn't say these things. He took that insult from him, he must have.
"Your soul is suffering," Castiel finally said but didn't remove his hand.
"Where did you learn that? Angel therapy session, where you all talk about your divine feelings? Don't pretend to understand, Cass." He shrugged Castiel's hand off.
"Dean..."
"No, look. If you won't help that's fine. But then you should never have come."
Castiel just looked up at Dean with innocence in his electric blue eyes.
"You are dead, but breathing, Dean. I believe I can relate to that. I will help you."
After a moment of silence, Dean said, "You're here to help me, aren't you? You're not here for Sam, so I'm going to assume you flew down from war of the angels for me."
Castiel just nodded his head.
Dean exhaled sharply and said, "Why? Why me particularly? I don't deserve for you to care about me."
"Because I believe we share a tacit bond."
He stopped and looked at the floor. It wasn't in embarrassment, but rather, as if he was struggling to remember the lines of a book. "Dean. I'm an angel of the Lord. We don't share the same 'emotions' as humans do such as love and happiness. There is no black or white in our lives; it is all grey. But for some inscrutable reason, from the time I first met you, I felt something strange."
Dean face looked flushed and embarrassed, but not disturbed.
"Dean...I have a confession. I have no idea what that means; those last words I said. But I saw it in a romantic movie last week and it looked romantic and that is what I feel now, I suppose. I was serious when I mentioned our lives being a whole grey area. But with you, it can be white, and it can be black. Dean, look, I have seen you kiss women before, so I know you don't feel anything towards me, but I like to be honest. That is why I always come to you. I feel like I am myself when I'm here. You could say I am your 'guardian angel'. And although I'm not sure how it feels exactly, I think I love you, Dean."
Dean tried for weeks to figure out why he did what he did next but there were no words to his actions.
He leaned over and pressed his full lips on Cass's and pulled him into an angry, lip crushing, time consuming kiss. And because it is Dean, of course he used the luxury of his tongue. Cass was in awe and shock but mostly, he felt something. It was making his stomach feel weird. Cass wasn't really sure what to do, but he figured he'd copy the way the man kissed in the movie and put his hand on Dean's jaw. Dean felt the scratchy stubble on Castiel's jaw, and although he's never kissed a man, it was a familiar feeling. Not the man-smooching part, but rather the Cass-smooching. He felt safe. Home.
Finally, Dean pulled away and looked into Castiel's vibrant blue eyes. Realizing what he has just done, he blushed a deep, crimson red and looked away abruptly.
"Cass, I'm-"
"Do not apologize, Dean. That felt...pleasant."
"No, Cass. I don't know what came over me...I didn't mean it. I'm leaving. Seriously, Cass, don't take that the wrong way. As much as I'm flattered that you have a little schoolboy crush on me, this isn't happening. Take care of Sam."
Then he grabbed his car keys and headed out the door without even looking back to see if Cass was okay, which he wasn't.
Dean got the hell out, and didn't look back once. It's been a month exactly. Today last month, Dean's life got rearranged.
Castiel didn't forget that night, though, and as hard as Dean tried to, he didn't either.
"I'm straight, though," Dean constantly reminded himself whenever he'd remember that night.
But...that kiss was so...real? Does that make sense? Because that's exactly what Dean felt.
Cass on the other hand has been tortured with the memory. He's been taking care of Sam just like Dean told him to, but he couldn't help thinking about Dean. It was the first time he actually felt...human. The very first time he ever felt like he wanted to be human was when he remembered how he felt when Dean kissed him. He's checked up on Dean several times on his own accord and several times for Sam since Dean wouldn't talk to Sam directly, but every time, Dean completely ignored Cass and pretended it didn't happen, much to Castiel's confusement.
The Present
As Dean lay on the motel's carpet and purged out his feelings, he realized that he hasn't shed a tear for Bobby since that night. And now, it was all exploding out of him and he couldn't stop it. It was his fault, and it was Sam's fault too. And so he would hate both of them until he figured out what to do with all that hatred.
The next day, he woke up started to a loud thumping noise.
"Sir? Sir? You need to pay now or I'll call the cops."
Dean grunted and peeled himself off the floor. His eyes were swollen, and he had an unbearable migraine.
"SIR?"
"Holy shit, I get it! I'm leaving."
He opened the door, threw the money at the man, and slammed the door in his face.
After about twenty minutes, he packed all of his few belongings and headed for the Impala.
"Hey, baby. I've missed you," he said to his car as he placed the bag in the trunk.
"Next stop: nearest cheap hotel," he muttered bitterly.
After stopping by a small dinner and ordering a philly steak sandwich and a slice of apple pie, he headed for the car once more. As soon as he was seated, he turned to buckle his seatbelt. Once he turned back, he found a man in a trench coat riding shotgun.
"Cass, what the hell!?" Dean exclaimed.
"I startled you. I am sorry."
"What are you doing here Cass?"
"Yesterday when I entered your room..."
"What about that?"
"Dean. I was worried. I needed to make sure your health was intact."
"Well here I am in one piece. Mission accomplished. Good day, Cass."
"Dean, I will not return until I am positive that you are okay."
"I'm fine."
"Was it Bobby?"
Dean just closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.
"You need to speak to Sam."
"No, Cass, I don't."
"Please."
"Why? Why should I?"
"Because he is your brother. And he doesn't remember anything. You are hurting, I do understand that. But he is hurting as well. And myself."
Dean's eyes fell on Cass's. He never realized how much he was hurting.
"Cass...I'm sorry, man, I didn't realize-"
But he heard the sound of wings fluttering once again and Castiel was gone.
"Friggin' angels," he muttered sadly to himself.