A/N: This story carries a lot of emotion within it. I hope it strikes something inside you.
I don't own Supernatural. We all know it. Don't make me say it again.
Castiel looked outside the window at his left, watching the trees blur at the other side of the glass. The car was going faster than his stomach could bare, but he just passed some saliva and composed himself on the shotgun seat. Dean was concentrated on the road, and Castiel was not feeling brave enough to start a chat. So he just kept staring at the green blur outside, until his eyes closed and he slipped into unconsciousness.
Angels don't dream, but some hint of Jimmy's memories was kept on Castiel's mind, and every time he closed his eyes and his breathing slowed down, images of a forest and falling leaves filled his thoughts. He could almost feel the cold air on his lungs, the humidity in the wind when it moved his hair. The wet crack of the sticks breaking at his feet. And then, he could hear a humming. He couldn't recognize the melody, but he was sure he had listened to it before and, without much thinking, he was walking on his dream to the source of the music.
Among the muffled noise of Castiel's breathing, there was the sound of wet pavement underneath Baby's tires that kept Dean focused on the road. The path twisted and turned in front of his eyes, real but at the same time as a dream. Did Castiel really breathe? Or was it his own breath that resonated on his ears? Was the angel really there, by his side? Or was he dreaming of the company of the guy when in reality he was sunk on the despair and pain of the loss of his brother? He shook his head as if materializing everything around him, making sure to look to his right and see the coated silhouette of the man who was not entirely a man but that was his best friend at the time.
"Friends are the family you choose."
It sounded cheesy and it was clear no one could ever replace Sam and the relationship they had, as unhealthy and messed up as it was. But they were brothers, and nothing was going to change that. The family he had met when his mother was still alive -the pancakes in the morning, the sunday bike rides, that humming of hers when folding the laundry, the goodnight kisses- it was all gone too soon and too fast, and he knew Sam never had any of it. And that was the saddest part. Sam would never know what it felt being warmly held and put to bed, he would never receive forehead kisses, he would never listen to a soft and sweet voice singing while doing the dishes. He was gone and this time there was nobody bringing him back.
Dean's throat tasted bitter and his knuckles were white because of the strength with he was holding the wheel. He felt his eyes wet, but focused his sight on the long road before him and begged for Castiel to wake up and talk the usual nonsense. He almost smiled when the figure next to him removed and opened his eyes, blinking and winking as the light covered his face.
"Are we there yet?"
Dean almost chuckled but the thoughts about Sam weren't entirely gone and the tears almost got back to his eyes. He just watched Castiel as he ran his hands through his hair and gave him a slight smirk.
The angel could almost feel the pain in Dean's eyes, but knowing him as he did, he knew it was better not to talk about it. He straightened himself on the seat and cleared his throat. This was going to be a long trip.
"Have you ever heard the story of Saint Lawrence? He was burned on a grill during the 3rd century and the legend says he asked to be turned over as he was already cooked on that side."
"That's nonsense. He was crying and screaming and begging for his life, I remember."
"Of course you do. Maybe talking about a deacon's death isn't the best topic to talk with a freaking angel of the Lord."
Castiel almost chuckled hearing Dean trying to light the mood. This was his way to cope with pain, he knew it. He had seen it before. Many times. It wasn't fair that someone had to endure so much loss and pain, but then again, there he was. Dean was trying to go on, and that made Castiel's chest grow with pride. He had pulled the Righteous Man from Hell. And it had been O so worth it.
Dean turned the radio on, going through the channels in order to find something decent to listen to. And then, when the first notes blasted, he smiled. This was his song.
"Carry on, my wayward son…"
Castiel jumped a little in his seat, realisation growing in his eyes. That was the song humming amid the forest on his dream. That was the chanting leading him to bliss. He looked at Dean's tears rolling and said nothing. He just looked down at his own hands and felt angry at himself for not being able to save Sam. For not being able to bring him back. And then a drop felt, wetting his trench coat, a teardrop from his own eyes.
"I'm…"
"I know… Let's just… carry on. Ok?" Dean wiped his face with his right hand and felt the weight of Cas' hand on his shoulder, which sent a shiver down his spine, but triggered a slight smile from the hunter.
"Even if it is the last thing I do, I'm gonna save you."
Almost ten years had passed since the day Dean said those words to Sam. And he tried his ass off to keep that promise, really. He had sold his soul, went to hell and back, literally, he had died nearly half a dozen times, carried the Mark of Cain and killed Death itself in order to keep Sam safe. And yet, here he was, without his little brother to annoy him during lunch for not eating healthy enough. Without his constant bitch face and moral standards that were never easy to keep. Without that smugness on his face and know-it-all attitude while doing research. God. Sam was a pain in the ass, but he was family. And that family seemed to grew shorter by year. Mom, Dad, Ellen, Jo, Bobby, Charlie… and there was only one person left to hold onto. And he was not even a person. Dean turned over in the bed to watch the half-lit shape on the other bed in the motel room. Cas was reading a book, obviously not tired nor interested on sleeping. His frown denoted the confusion growing on his blue eyes, reflecting the light of the bedside lamp.
Dean sighed. Castiel turned to look at the hunter with worry on his eyes.
"Are you okay, Dean? You look distressed."
Dean just nodded and turned his back to Castiel, unable to tell his best friend the struggle he was having just by being alive. How much every breath, every heartbeat, hurt. So he just closed his eyes and tried to sleep again, without much success. He almost jumped when he felt a weight beside him. Then there was a certain warmth that he recognized. When he felt himself wrapped in Castiel's arms, relief filled his soul. Everything was gonna be alright.
How many scars does a Winchester have?
Castiel couldn't help himself. He lost track of time and only noticed when the sunlight entered by the open blinds of the motel room. Dean was still asleep in his arms, himself tightly clutched to Cas' waist, his head on the angel's chest. Outside, the far sound of cars reminded Castiel that he was still on Earth, though his mind wandered somewhere else.
That exact moment and place, that little twin bed embracing the hunter, reminded him so much of Heaven, a sigh escaped his lips and Dean's body twitched a bit. Without really opening his eyes, Dean held even tighter on Castiel's jacket and buried his face on his chest. The scent of pine and sea water coming from his body was intoxicating and Dean forgot the world around him for almost a minute.
"It will all be better when you wake up. You'll see. I promise."
Dean's own words pinched on his mind and he forced himself to wake up. He didn't look up at Castiel's face, he just dragged himself to the bathroom and washed his face. He looked like crap. He had been looking like that for a while now. He had been driving for a week or so, stopping every night at a different town, without knowing really where he was headed to. The only good thing about this whole mess he was making of himself, was the fact that Cas stood by his side every step of the way. And he didn't know what he'd do without that weird guy.
Castiel closed his eyes while Dean was in the bathroom. He closed his eyes and dreamed again. Dreams he knew were his own, not Jimmy's. Because Jimmy could only ever love Amelia, and this dreams had nothing to do with Jimmy's wife. The humming of that song was closer this time. He walked towards it, catching a glimpse of the black hood of the Impala before entering a meadow with a little cabin in the center of it. The meadow reminded him of the eternal Tuesday flying kites of his favorite Heaven. He watched as Dean rose from the other side of the car, face covered in motor grease and sweat. He was smiling and drinking a beer. And it was a smile as sincere as it gets. He was happy. And happiness flooded Castiel's heart.
Dean got out of the bathroom wearing his best smile. It was the least Cas deserved. The only thing he could offer. And he felt peace when he saw the smile showing on the angel's eyes.
Dean knew inside of him that it wasn't usual for an angel to stay with a human for so long. He knew there was another reason for Cas to be by his side, and whatever it was, he was thankful. Dammit, he knew what it was, but there was no way he could cope with that in his state. How could he even think about loving someone when his baby brother had just died? How could he even imagine it? What kind of person does that?
And then the smile went away.
They drove for another day. Castiel slipped into unconsciousness again. And there was Dean, and the Impala, and the little cabin. And the humidity and the smell of freshness. And the song.
"You know, you may never have a chance of happiness. A chance of a normal life. You already tried it once, and it was a disaster. This could be your only real shot."
The little voice on Dean's head couldn't stop talking. But a stronger one kept on taking control.
"Sam is dead. And is not coming back. Ever. You're going to be alone for the rest of your life. How could you think of this crap when the one person who deserved to be happy is now gone?"
Castiel jumped a little on his seat and looked towards Dean. The driver turned his sight to him with concern, a wordless question on his eyes. Castiel nodded a little and tried to smile, worried about the absent look on Dean's eyes that were somehow lost on the road before them. What could he possibly do to repair the broken heart and soul of the man to his side?
He had done it once, when he was back in Hell, he had knitted his soul that was in pieces, he had restored his body and he had given him part of his own grace for the man to be complete again. But there was something different now… There were no pieces to glue back together, there were no traces of soul he could melt with his own to make them heal. And that hurt him almost as much as he knew the hunter was hurting.
The sun was falling down and the orange light covered the car with an aura of anger and despair. But Dean pushed it and found himself humming on the driveway of a fast food restaurant. He parked the car and pulled himself out and on his way to the entrance, followed close by a trench coated man with slow and soft steps behind him. Hands on his pockets and eyes on his shoes. They entered the place, slightly crowded with mostly teenagers for it was friday night and seemed like a good place to hang out. Dean ignored them and sat himself on a booth, pointing at the place in front of him, where Castiel sat. His hands were playing with his coat underneath the table and Dean was looking at the salt shaker resting on the table.
A strike of guilt hit Dean's stomach but he tried to ignore it. This was his pain. No one could ever understand it and he didn't want to burden his friend with his hurt. It was not like Castiel could make it all go away, even when Dean was sure the angel would try. He was not sure he was gonna let him.
The waitress took the order and left. Then came back with a couple hamburgers and Dean was happy to have an excuse not to talk. Castiel watched at Dean eating while chewing on his own burger. He didn't need to eat, but he felt considerably better when his stomach was full. When both of them had finished their meal, the waitress offered some pie for dessert. Dean refused and simply paid, his sight lost on the rainy outside that ran drops on the windows of the diner.
"I know what you're feeling."
"You're an angel."
"A poor example of one."
They were back on the road and the night was pitch black. Dean refused to stop and get some sleep on a motel, so he just grabbed a coffee from a gas station and drove. Castiel's statement had made him feel uncomfortable and somehow angry. The hunter gripped tightly the steering wheel, his knuckles white. Castiel was looking directly at his face, determination on his eyes.
"I want to help. But you won't let me."
"I'm… sorry, Cas. I'm sure I'll be okay… eventually. We just… keep going, 'kay?"
It was four in the morning when they stopped at a crappy motel on the side of the road. Castiel had convinced Dean that they would travel again once he got at least four hours sleep. Dean had protested a little, but surrendered 45 minutes after finishing his coffee. They entered the quite small room and Dean just took out his boots and pants before covering himself up to the head with the blankets. Castiel was reading again. It was almost six when the nightmares started.
Dean was in the middle of a forest, rain pouring. He could hear Sam calling him from somewhere in front of him, so he hurried. But no matter how fast he ran, how muddy his clothes, how loud his screams, he could never reach out for his brother. Then the rain stopped as well as Sam's voice. And he was lost. He wandered throughout the trees and tripped and fell face first. He was filthy and desperate and alone. He was terrified and cold.
He started to cry when a white and warm light covered him. He closed his eyes shut and there was peace. There was silence and light and safety.
He opened his eyes to find Castiel's arms around him and the angel humming a familiar song. He could see the long eyelashes on the closed eyes of the angel, he could see the frown and the parted lips. He saw hope and nothing more.
Castiel opened his eyes and caught Dean's gaze. His tears were gone and his nose was red, but the freckles somehow sparkled in the darkness of the room.
"You're the best goddamn angel. Never think other way."
Castiel smiled and tightened his embrace, letting a sigh out on Dean's hair. Dean buried his face on the angel's neck, marking a soft kiss on the edge of his shirt. He couldn't tell if Castiel felt it for he didn't do anything next.
When the sun was up again and Dean had slept a couple hours more, they hit the road again, but there was a destination this time, and it wasn't far. There were only a couple hours before they arrived at Lebanon. Dean was not sure to get home so early, but Castiel was sort of excited about going to a known place. Dean tried to shake the memories out of his head, but that was harder than he thought. He got off the Impala and walked straight to his room, closing the door and falling to the bed amidst tears. Half an hour later, he went to Sam's room and gathered his brother's stuff into boxes. It was three o'clock when Castiel walked into that room and found Dean pulling clothes out of drawers.
"Do you want me to help you?"
"S'okay. I just… s'okay."
Castiel stood on the door's frame, watching Dean as he finished packing everything up. When there was nothing more to take away, Dean sat at the edge of the bed, his eyes on the ground and his breathing shaky.
"So… that's it."
Dean looked around, feeling the emptiness of the room, sighed hard and stood up. He walked out the door and Castiel followed him again. The hunter took his jacket and walked outside, to the forest before him. The afternoon was cloudy and the wind was high. The first raindrops hit him on the face.
When the storm came, he was walking along the river. Castiel's jacket was soaking and his hair was pressed wet against his forehead. The thunders fell every few seconds and Dean jumped if only a little when they were close. His face was pale, his eyes red. They stayed by the creek for almost an hour, when the storm fainted. Dean turned to see Castiel under a tree, blank expression on his face, but humming.
Castiel remembered the song in the middle of the storm, and started humming it for he didn't remember all the words. He kept doing it and didn't even notice when the rain had stopped. He was taken by surprise when Dean's face was merely inches from his own, eyes wide open and shocked. The hunter moved his head with the melody and took Castiel by the hand, leading him back home. When they reached the front steps, he turned to Castiel and held the angel's face on his hands.
"Don't you cry no more." He was barely singing at the phrase, a little sincere smile on his lips. The only sincere one Castiel had seen in almost a month. "You're the only family I have left now… I'm sorry for that."
Castiel smiled and tugged Dean into a hug that the hunter didn't reject. Instead, he looked at Cas in the eyes and gently pressed their lips together. Castiel was confused, then shocked, then confused again, but when the smile didn't leave Dean's lips, he smiled too.
That night, Dean invited him to stay with him in his room in case the nightmares came back. Castiel accepted with a smile forming lines on the corners of his eyes. He lied besides Dean while he slept and closed his eyes only for a moment. And there was the forest, the song, and Dean. And when he opened his eyes again in the morning, there was still Dean.
.
Thank you for reading this, it was an emotional rollercoaster to write it, and, please, review :)