A/N: Warning, warning. This is the most experimental thing I have written. It's weird. Not like my Happy Feet 2 fic, which was weird in a what-the-hell-am-I-writing kind of way, but weird in a this-is-not-how-I-write kind of way. It's in the present tense. Ah! I had to think about the tense. It was confusing.
So there is a high chance that this is completely out of character, but lately (and by lately, I mean always), Supernatural is making me so sad, I just want happy things. It's not exactly canon-complacent, either, but it's Supernatural, so I'm holding to the idea that anything can happen. Basically, this is written is a kind of 'screw you, sad canon, this is how my series ends.' Apparently when I'm not writing unrequited love, I write unapologetic fluff. Enjoy, if you will, and if you have time, please drop a review. Even if it's just a short one. Even if it's just one, irrelevant word. Like 'and' or 'poop.' I don't care. I love to hear what you have to say. I like to know you're there, and I'm not just here alone with my thoughts. Because that is potentially worrying.
I own nothing. Un-beta'd. All mistakes are my own and spell check's.
The dust has yet to settle, even though the car parked five minutes ago. A hot breeze blowing off the nearby desert keeps it drifting lazily in the air, the combination settling over the area like a thick blanket. A man leans against the door of the vehicle, wearing denim pants despite the oppressive heat.
All that can be seen is an old truckstop, and glass glittering on the ground, only recently smashed from the windowpane. A second body lies in the dirt, not far from the building, its blood slowly staining the ground a deep rust colour. Darker dirt, almost black, seems to spread from the body's back. Not long ago, this dirt formed a shape, but the breeze has obscured what it might have been.
Dean can feel the heat rolling off the Impala through his jeans, the discomfort not quite enough to beat out his no-shorts rule. He looks down at his wrist, where a watch should be. It's been so long since he wore one, and yet, sometimes, he still looks reflexively. Not since Lisa. Not since time meant anything more than 'ending.' Now, with the end-of-the-world said and not done, with the possibility of a tomorrow, Dean thinks he should get a watch again.
At least then he would know how long he has been standing here waiting for Sam. It can't have been that long. The body had been there when he arrived, and it was still slowly oozing a thick blood. But Sam's call had said it was urgent. Dean considers slipping inside the truckstop to have a quick look around for his brother when he hears the faint rustle of wings.
Castiel's appearances do not startle Dean anymore. There was a time when they had made him jump or lose control of his vehicle, but that had passed with the years. Dean can sense when Castiel is about to arrive now, as if something intangible is shifted in the air to make room for the angel even before he hears those wing beats. He'd asked Sam about it, once, but Sam had only looked confused and a little too knowing. About what, Dean wasn't sure.
"You may not surprise me anymore with your mojo-ing in, but I'm still thinking about getting you a bell."
Castiel does not give the impression he has heard Dean, only leans against the Impala next to him, their arms almost touching, but never quite closing the distance.
*****00*****
There is a beat, where Castiel seems to be making sure he has Dean's full attention. Dean doesn't know why he bothers. He almost always does. Then, Castiel speaks. "I come with a request. Please stop hunting my brothers and sisters. They are on earth for a reason."
Dean knows Cas did not turn up for a social visit. But he could hope. "What, did God send them?" He scoffs.
Castiel's response is matter of fact. "Yes."
"Oh."
Silence.
"Our father has returned. He wishes to fix what has been done."
Dean shifts slightly to watch Castiel. He does not look any different, which Dean finds strange, considering the guy just had his faith confirmed after perhaps millennias of quiet, shameful uncertainty. His hair is still wind-toustled, the blue tie still hanging lose. Dean wonders if Cas even knows that that's wrong. Such an unassuming creature, almost drowning in an ill-fitting trenchcoat, only his eyes giving away that there's something beneath. Dean thinks, in fact, that the eyes may have changed. They are inhumanly bright, brighter than a summer's day, and Dean wonders if that is the angel Castiel he sees; hidden, contained, but not forgotten. Then he kind of wants to hit himself, because he can't believe he's thinking these things.
Dean snorts. "Typical dead beat father. Turns up when everything has sorted itself out and then says he fixed it because he finished the last few things."
Cas shows no emotion at Dean's words. Dean is surprised. He remembers a time when Castiel was so full of faith and righteous conviction that he would have threatened Dean's life for the blasphemy he is spouting. Now, Cas seems almost accepting of it.
Dean swallows hard. "So what. Now daddy's home you just gonna go back to live in heaven again? Even after all they did to you, Cas?"
He can feel the anger now. At God, for abandoning His creation. At Castiel, for being a soldier. At himself, for getting so attached to a being that can leave in the blink of an eye.
Cas gives off the impression of shrugging, though he does not move. He turns his head to face Dean. They stare.
*****00*****
Something heavy rolls in Dean's gut. Panic. Cas is leaving. Cas, who has been there through a fall and out the other side, who had re-risen high on the celestial chain of command, but never really returned to heaven. Cas, the stupid angel he had stupidly come to rely on and trust, who could come and go easier than anyone Dean had ever known, but who Dean had thought would never leave.
Would never leave him. After all they had been through together. After all they had done for each other. All they had come to mean to each other. Cas was going to leave, and Dean only has himself to blame for it hurting so much.
Dean closes his eyes, slowly, and breaks the stare. He waits for the soft sound of wingbeats, but they do not come. He waits some more. Then he opens his eyes again. Cas is still staring, probably had been looking straight at Dean's closed eyelids, which is a little weird to think about.
And then Dean realises something. Castiel is an almost all-powerful being, can cross time and space with ease, and does not hold any human customs to heart. If Castiel had wanted to return to heaven, he would have just left. He wouldn't have come to see Dean to say goodbye. Maybe, Cas doesn't want to go. Maybe, he'd never wanted to return to heaven. Maybe, all he's been waiting for is a sign.
The breeze is still blowing. Castiel's hair isn't shifted by it, and some of the debris in the air settles there. Some of the specks of dust are darker than the rest, and Dean thinks how wrong it is that the charred remains of Castiel's brethren are nestled in the angel's hair. Cas is standing almost too close.
Dean takes a chance.
"Alright, I'll cut you a deal. Sammy and I, we'll stop hunting angels if you stay. That's it. Just...stay. On earth. Please."
He holds his breath.
Finally, Dean sees a reaction from the angel. Cas' whole body seems to lighten; tension, and a worry Dean hadn't even noticed fleeing his muscles. His eyes are so impossibly blue. And they smile.
"Yes."
Dean still doesn't take a breath. Just stares. He's not sure that it's over yet. That he really could have gotten what he wanted just by asking. He's still not sure that good things happen. There must be more than just this. Cas just stares back. He doesn't leave.
Dean breathes out. He takes another chance.
"So, do we need to kiss on it or something? Seal the deal?"
Cas does not look confused. Once, Dean making a comment like this would have been the cause of a curious head-tilt. Once, Dean would have meant for it to confuse for his own amusement. But Dean has rubbed off on Castiel, even more than Cas has influenced Dean. And, mostly, the angel understands him, now.
"I am not a demon, Dean. Though we may, if you feel it would make it more official."
Dean grins. For once, he decides to believe in good things.
"More official. Yeah. C'mere, Cas."
Cas gives a small smile, and Dean grabs him by the collar of the trenchcoat. It's barely a kiss. Dean is too nervous, and Cas, for once, seems the one unsure if he can have this. Just a light brush of lips, Cas' fingers ghosting around Dean's waist, before Dean pulls back, shoving his shaking hands into his pockets. Cas doesn't move, breath he probably doesn't even need brushing over Dean's face. They stare.
Cas breaks the silence, but he doesn't step back. "I must return to heaven. There are a few last things I need to attend to."
Dean nods. He knows that it couldn't be so easy. But he thought he would get a little longer with Cas. A few days, maybe. His hands shake harder.
Cas cradles Dean's face lightly in his hands. "I will return, Dean. Soon."
And then there is a light breath over Dean's lips, the sound of wingbeats, and Dean is standing alone against the Impala again.
The dead angel has stopped bleeding.
Dean nods.
Sam still hasn't returned, but Dean has heard him moving about inside. He always keeps an ear out for Sammy. He hopes he's looking for pie.
*****00*****
It could not have been half a minute before the merry jingle of a bell warns that the door to the truckstop is opening, and Sam steps outside. For a minute, Dean freezes, wondering if Sam saw everything that just happened, his complete and utter de-macho-ing, and then realises, with almost as much fear, that he doesn't care if Sam did see. It happened, and if Dean gets his way, it's happening again. A lot.
But Sam doesn't say anything, just nods his acknowledgement to Dean's presence before slipping into the passengers seat. Dean takes a deep breath. He can work with this. He gets behind the wheel.
*****00*****
There is silence in the Impala until they are only a few minutes out of town. The whole drive, Sam has been shooting Dean strange looks. If it was about 10 years go, Sam would be joking that the deafening silence in the car was a sign of the upcoming Apocalypse. Now, it's still too early for those end-of-the-world jokes. Too fresh.
So they sit in an uncomfortable silence while Dean works up his nerves and convinces himself that this is, in fact, an emotional conversation that needs to happen.
"So, Cas was just here. Turns out God's back. Told us to stop hunting down the angels cause daddy's got them all under control."
Dean sees the way Sam lights up at the news God is back. Despite everything - how the angels turned out to be, the freakin' Apocalypse and their desperate fight against the forces of both good and evil - Sam still believes. Dean isn't sure whether he envies him or not.
"So where is he now?"
Dean shrugs, trying to pass it off as nonchalant. "Back in heaven."
Dean can see immediately that he's said something wrong. The light is Sam's eyes switches off, only to be replaced almost immediately with a raging fire. His hand's shake, but not in the same way that Dean's had been less than half an hour earlier. It's been a long, long time since Dean has seen Sam so angry. He shudders to think of it.
"In heaven?" Sam grits out. "You mean, not here? He's gone? After everything? After everything we've done together? After everything he's been through with you? He just left? That sanctimonious dick! I can't believe he'd do that to you! Actually, I can. I should've seen this coming. I'll find him. I'll find him and..."
Dean almost wants to laugh. It feels good, Sam standing up for him about this. It feels good to know that Sammy will be alright with everything. With his possibly-maybe-definitely-but-not-talking-about-it-yet being maybe-a little-a lot in love with Cas. He does laugh. Just because he can. He can laugh now.
Sam cuts himself off mid-rant to glare at Dean.
Dean laughs harder. "Whoh, Sammy. Calm down. Dude's coming back. Said he just had to pop upstairs for a quick visit."
Sam's hands don't stop shaking, but the burning in his eyes dulls down. "Well, okay then. That's good. I'm glad he's not leaving us."
Dean grins at Sam. They pull into the hotel car park and get out of the Impala.
*****00*****
It's not the nicest hotel they've ever stayed in. It's far from the nicest, and after a week, Dean thinks it may in fact have gained a place in his nightmares. Bare walls, checkered floor, a stove that doesn't work and a microwave that smells like it's going to explode whenever they use it. But Dean won't leave. Cas said he'd be back, and Dean is going to wait for him. He's happy to wait, for once. To not have everything rushing at him headlong.
Sam is not so content. He's been dropping hints for the last few days that they should leave. A job a few towns over, one that's not in the middle of nowhere, a casino a hundred or so miles down the road.
Dean can see Sam out of the corner of his eye. He's watching him. There's a hint of worry in his eyes. Dean stares resolutely at the ceiling. He does not want to talk about this.
Sam clears his throat. "Maybe we should go visit Bobby. I'm sure Cas will be able to find us there if..."
Dean huffs out a loud breath. He doesn't turn his head, just talks to the ceiling. He tries to keep his voice neutral, flat. "Don't say it, Sam. He said he's coming back. I believe him. I have to believe him." "
Sam must have heard what Dean was trying to hide.
"Okay."
*****00*****
When Castiel finally does return, Dean isn't even in the hotel room. He's out buying some groceries while Sam sits at the tiny table in the room, trying for the hundredth time to work the motels crappy wifi. He almost falls backwards out of his chair when he hears the flutter of wings.
In an instant he is on his feet, his arms wrapping tight around the angel's shoulders. He may cry a little. He's so relieved. Cas only hugs him back, just as hard.
*****00*****
Dean doesn't drop the grocery bag when he returns to the hotel room to see a beaming Sam staring across the table at Cas, but it's a close thing.
He doesn't need to say anything. As soon as he steps into the room, Cas is already on his feet, making his way over. He stops an arms-distance away.
Dean drops the groceries and reaches out an arm, clenching his hand tightly around Cas' bicep. He wants to leave a mark on the angel, just like Cas did to him once, when he pulled him out of Hell. A mark of possession. A mark of salvation. Something to prove he will always be there. Something to show how he feels. How he'll always feel.
Cas smiles. It's small, but it's definitely there. He knows.
*****00*****
They don't hang around long after that. Just the one more night spent in the two-bed hotel room. It could have been awkward, but Sam had said that since Cas was staying now, he'd have to have a bed, and he wasn't sharing, so Cas would have to bunk with Dean. Cas hadn't even pointed out that he didn't need to sleep, and only nodded his thanks to Sam.
Dean couldn't remember a nicer way to wake up than with Cas, and something intangible, but somehow there, wrapped around his back.
*****00*****
The Impala is soon packed. Dean and Sam still don't carry much with them, and Cas has no belongings that he doesn't keep on his person. It gets awkward for a moment when Sam offers Cas the passenger seat, but Cas just tilts his head curiously before getting in the back on the drivers side.
Sam grins at Dean when he jumps in beside him. Dean groans. He should've known he'd cop it from Sammy. He was way too accommodating last night.
He looks into the rearview mirror. Cas is smiling that small smile. Dean catches his eye in the mirror and beams. He starts the Impala.