Life After You: Just Trying To Get Home
Aannnnddd . . . I accidentally posted the unedited version of this yesterday, so if you were unfortunate enough to see the silly (ADD) where Lisa's name should be, forgive me. ;_;
The Impala stalled just about ten miles from Dean's destination, and he cursed, slamming his palms against the horn and causing it to blare loudly across the empty midnight highway. He let his head fall down to rest on the steering wheel with an overly exaggerated sigh, his eyes closing and his mouth twisting into a frustrated frown. "Come on, baby," he whispered, "Don't do this to me today . . ." The plead went up in vain as he twisted the key in the ignition again, and the car merely gave a sputtering whine of protest, to which Dean replied with an exasperated groan.
It was hardly the first time his precious Impala had failed him in the last few years, it was just getting to old. And Bobby hadn't given it as good of a tuning as he used since he'd been stuck in a wheelchair, and Dean wouldn't ask it of him. With another long drawn-out sigh, he climbed out of the drivers seat, closing the door behind him in his normal careful demeanor when it came to his baby, even though he wanted to do nothing but kick it at the moment. He leaned against the vehicle, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his leather jacket and stared out at the empty road in front of him.
There wouldn't be anyone else to get a ride from at this time of night, and he wouldn't leave the car behind either, god forbid. After a few moments of internal debate his fingers closed around his cell phone and he drew it out, flicking it open and closed in contemplation before he dropped it back into his pocket, replacing it with a pack of cigarettes against his palm. Ten years ago he would have loathed the idea of himself turning into a smoker, but it had joined his growing group of unfavorable habits after the Apocalypse. But it helped him forget, kind of like beer, so he didn't really care what the hell other people thought of him after he got that into his head.
Although, Lisa really hated it, and that was troubling, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. It's not like he smoked inside around Ben or anything, he wasn't that stupid, and he only took a drag when he was either insanely bored, or just simply remembering.
He turned his eyes towards the sky, scanning the empty, silent stars with glazed eyes for a long moment before he looked away from them again. That had become a habit as well, and one he could not get rid of as easily as leaving his pack of cigarettes behind. It was a useless motion, and he knew that. But after everything he'd been through he couldn't help but look heavenwards, his eyes would simply stray there every now and then. Thought the stars lacked what he was looking for, and the very thought made his heart shudder with guilt and long worn down grief.
Even now, he still expected to be sitting in his Impala one day, or brushing his teeth, or simply laying in bed and hear a familiar voice say, "Hello Dean," in that infuriating, completely unexpected way that had turned into almost a comfort for him during the Apocalypse. A comfort that could never be regained, unlike the very replaceable pack of cigarettes in his pocket.
He let out a long puff of smoke, watching it disperse and curl up in near invisible wisps towards the stars, vanishing into the night sky. Now that he'd allowed his mind to dwell on it, he couldn't get it to leave, much to his annoyance. But then again he'd always been bad at banishing the worst of his memories, so it came as no surprise that this one would not be any different.
His feet slipped in the pools of blood as he rushed forward and fell to his knees by the unearthly still form of the angel, his hands gently, rapidly touching each gaping wound in succession. "Cass," his voice shook, "Cass, answer me, damn it!"
The angel blinked open clouded blue eyes to stare up at him, "I'm sorry . . ."
"Hey, hey, you have nothing to be sorry for buddy. Nothing," Dean shushed him, pressing his palm to the wound on his chest to try and stop the flow of crimson blood.
Castiel shook his head, pushing the hand away, "Don't-"
"You're losing too much blood, Cass!" Dean snapped, "Why don't you just heal yourself already?!" he pressed his hand to the wound again, eyes narrowed and his eyebrows furrowing together.
"I can't, Dean," Castiel's voice was barely a whisper as he spoke, and Dean's eyes widened at the words. "I'm not an angel anymore, Dean."
"Yes you are," Dean insisted. "Yes you are! You can do that 'poof' thing and I was able to banish you with the sigil and-"
"I've been falling for a very long time now, Dean," Castiel murmured, once again pushing his hand away from the wound.
"Why?" It was a simple question, and Dean couldn't help but ask it, biting his lip.
Castiel merely looked at him without a word, a small smirk flickering across his normally stoic face. "Cass, don't . . ." Dean whispered, anguish clear in his eyes. "Don't do this to me! We need you! Lucifer-" He cut himself off, "I need you Cass! I can't do this on my own! Answer me!" But Castiel was silent, and his fogged blue eyes had turned as lifeless as glass. "Cass!"
Dean sighed, trying for the millionth time in the last ten years to form a smoke ring as he exhaled, to no avail. His shoulders hunched, and he slumped against the driver's side door of the Impala as he tossed his cigarette butt to the ground, stamping it out with a frown before he took another from his pocket., lighting it up. His fingers hit his cell as he put the pack back in his leather jacket, and he hesitated a long moment before he pulled it out and stared at it with a dazed look.
Adam had been asleep when his cell phone went off where he'd left it on the dusty motel room desk a few feet away, and he rolled over and pressed his face into the pillow with a growl of annoyance. "Sam, get the fucking phone!"
"That's you're ring-tone, hell no," Sam muttered from the other bed, and Adam snarled a muffled curse into the pillow before he flung the blankets off, walking over to grab the thing of the desk.
He glanced at the ID with a scowl, "Yeah, well it's your brother," he snorted.
"Your brother too. And your phone," Sam mumbled almost incoherently, and he let out a huff of surprise as Adam sat down on his bed to answer it, laying across his stomach and forcing all the air out of him.
"Dean, it's four in the morning here, what the hell," Adam said, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
"Hello to you too, and it's midnight here, what else is new?" Dean said on the other end, and Adam frowned once more.
"Are you smoking again? You're going to get cancer that way," he warned, smirking as Sam struggled to push him off, to little avail as Adam was just as heavy as him now, and almost the same height too.
"I didn't call to get a lecture," Dean muttered.
"And I didn't want to get woken up in the middle of the night," Adam retorted, "Woohoo. Now what do you want?"
"Adam!" Sam hissed, finally scrambling out from under him and shooting him a warning glare.
"Fine, Sam says to ask nicely, so dear brother, what can I do for you at this ungodly hour?" Adam asked, rolling his eyes as Sam shook his head.
"I . . ." Dean hesitated, forgetting for a moment what exactly he'd wanted to ask. "I know this is a stupid thing to ask, but I figured if anyone would know, it'd be you. What . . . What happens to angels when they die?"
Adam remained silent for a painfully long moment, before folding his legs underneath him with a sidelong glance at Sam, "You're asking me because I was Michael's vessel?" Sam flinched beside him, though there was no malice in the younger man's voice. Adam grew quiet again, and Sam could almost see the gears of his brain turning the question over and over, "I don't know, Dean. Michael never had to worry about dying, so he didn't think about it much. I just know that wherever they went, it wasn't heaven."
He could almost hear Dean's shudder at the last part, "Then do they-"
"God would never let them go to hell, Dean," Adam said softly, "That I know for certain. But for all I know, maybe they don't go anywhere. Maybe they just . . . Vanish." He glanced at Sam for a moment for a second time, watching the other's green eyes on him, "Is this about Castiel?" Once again, Sam flinched noticeably, and he knew that he'd said the wrong thing.
"No," Dean's harsh, quick answer told him enough, and he didn't pursue the subject.
"So, when are you gonna come out huntin' with us again?" Adam asked, moving the phone away from his ear and switching it to speaker, lying it down on the bedspread. The youngest brother lay down beside it, splaying out on his stomach with an uncertain look at Sam again. He'd never gotten along as well with Dean as he did with the middle Winchester, and always felt at a loss for what to say. But Sam usually came through with his little clues and ticks that told him if what he was saying was pushing too far.
"That again?" Dean sighed, "You know I'm done with that shit, squirt."
"But you helped us with that vampire nest in-"
"Because you were still a rookie and there were ten of them," the oldest brother said mockingly. "Don't ask again. Now, how's my Sammy?"
Adam smiled, glancing at Sam again, "He bought a cute little dolly last week."
"A voodoo doll," Sam muttered, eyes narrowing, and I only got it to get rid of that witch we where after."
Dean snickered on the other end, "Excuses, excuses. Just make sure he stays off the drugs and eats his veggies. Oh, and goes to the occasional strip club."
Sam snorted, rolling onto his side and peering at the number lit up on the screen, "You're calling from your cell," he said offhandedly, curiosity and worry getting the better of him.
There was silence on the other end, and Sam knew that Dean was carefully choosing his words, "I . . . Got stuck," Dean said slowly, "The Impala broke down."
Dean held the phone back from his ear as Sam let out a string of curses at him, "Okay, okay! You know I can't take it to Bobby anymore, and I'm not letting my baby get handled by anyone else."
"Dean . . ."
"I know! Look, I'm ten miles from Lisa's house, and I'll call her in the morning, okay?"
"Why not just call her now?" Sam asked, and Dean frowned as he heard Adam muttering something along the eyes of "Stop while you can, stop while you can" which Sam apparently was ignoring.
"I don't want to wake her," Dean lied. He chewed on his lip as Sam sighed audibly and Adam let out a bark of laughter, "Look, I just need some time to think, okay?"
There was a puff of noise and Dean knew that Adam had leaned over the phone again to make himself heard, "Don't think too hard, Dean," he said softly, earning a raised eyebrow from Sam. "Castiel-"
"Don't," Dean interrupted, trying to cut him off.
"No, listen to me for a moment, Dean," Adam snapped. "I know it's cheesy, and I know it's a chick-flick moment, god forbid. But Castiel died happy because he'd protected you. You were everything to him, you idiot. And sulking and smoking your life away is not the way to make up for all that he did for you."
Dean narrowed his eyes, "You're right. It doesn't make up for it. But you know what, nothing I can do ever will!" He snapped the phone closed before Adam could retort, throwing it against the blacktop with a snarl of frustration before he fell back against the Impala again, sliding down to the ground.
He pressed his forehead against his knees, wishing he hadn't just smashed his cell so he could check the time. "Maybe I should hunt," he mumbled, grinding his cigarette into the road until the embers disappeared, "It might take my mind of things." He sighed, raising bleary eyes to the sky, tracing out patterns among the stars. "What do you think, Cass?" He waited with baited breath as though he expected an answer from the lifeless stars above before he let it out, shaking his head. "Oh, that's right, you're dead. You can't give me stupid advice anymore."
The ex-hunter blinked as a star streaked by overhead, lighting up the dark night for a brief instant before it vanished over the horizon.
"A star fell-"
"You choose to fall the earth-"
"Wait, I don't understand. So angels can just become . . . Human?"
Dean scrambled to his feet, throwing the car door open and climbing inside, his eyes trained on the horizon the star had vanished behind. "Cass . . ." He willed the car to start, and whooped in relief as it puttered back to life and he kicked it into gear. The Impala tore down the empty highway, and Dean leaned over the wheel with determined eyes. Glancing at the amount of gas in the tank. Hopefully, (ADD) wouldn't worry to much, he had a feeling he'd be out just a little while longer.
^-^ ^-^ ^-^
Dawn light was just starting to creep up over the buildings and trees when Dean pulled the car up alongside a towering ash. The ground around it was singed and still red with fading embers, torn with long gashing marks in the soil where the roots had sprung up. It was an empty plot of land, and Dean had no doubt that the town would be very surprised to find the tree in a few hours, but for now he stood alone a few feet from it. It had to be, there was no other explanation, really. This was what remained as some angel's grace.
Hesitantly, he reached out a hand to touch the bark of the tree as though he was afraid he'd be burned. But the surface was as cool as water, and he rested his palm fully against it, his skin tingling. "Cass-" he paused, not sure how he knew that this was that particular angel's grace, just that he did.
"Well, well, well . . ." The oldest Winchester jumped as an amused voice startled him out of his thoughts, whirling around to see an unfamiliar woman standing behind him. She had her hands in her pockets, her long blond hair hanging casually over her right shoulder as she tilted her head to the side to stare at him. "It's been a long time since we've seen Dean Winchester out and about. He's too coward to play with us anymore, hmm?"
Dean pressed his back to the tree as her eyes flickered over with black, "Oh hell . . ."
"Oh hell is right," she smirked, "You've found some poor fallen angel's grace, and that's just too bad. Because, you see . . ." She turned to gaze at her bright purple nails with a bored expression, "Angel grace is quite a prize for someone like me."
"You touch Cass's grace and I'll-"
"Castiel's?" the woman smiled innocently, "Well that would be quite a catch indeed. The most loyal angel I ever met. That means it'll be extra tasty." Her steps were slow and controlled as she paced towards him, eyes as black as night, "I'm going to have to kill you now, Dean."
Dean growled, pressing himself back against the tree even more, his heels digging into the scorched ground, "Go ahead. But you're not getting the grace, bitch." He had a gun in the car, but it had become less and less of a habit to carry one right on his person since he'd stopped hunting, and he cursed himself for such a foolish mistake.
"And who'll stop me?" she raised a hand, flicking her fingers in his direction and watched as he opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, fighting for air. "Death by suffocation is quite messy, did you know?" she smiled, shifting her fingers again, "Or what about a nice hemorrhage?" Dean gasped in a mouthful of air before he coughed, a spat of blood landing on the base of the tree. The woman clenched her fingers against her palm, "Or maybe I'll just squeeze your heart until it stops beating. That's my favorite." Dean choked again, more blood dripping out of his mouth and onto his shirt, one hand rising to clench in the newly stained cloth on his chest with a groan of pain, the other remaining on the bark of the tree. "Your angel's gone, Dean. Your brother is miles away. There's no one to save you now," she sneered, tightening her fist and making him let out a harsh scream, blood beginning to create a new stain on his shirt from his rupturing heart.
"I . . . Don't want to be saved anymore," Dean muttered, the hand against the trunk of the tree shaking and growing pale. "But if you even think that you'll be able to touch this tree now that you've spilled my blood on it, you've got another thing coming."
She narrowed her eyes, "Your blood will do you no good. There's no spell on it." with her free hand, she reached out to demonstrate, tapping the ash once, "See? I-" her words were cut off with a shriek as the tree lit up with fire, consuming her body in an inferno while Dean remained untouched, slumped against the base of the tree.
He watched with heavy eyes as she vanished into the flames, his breath coming in small gasps, "Don't need a spell. You hurt me, and Cass'd know. Even if it is just his grace . . ." Dean leaned back against the tree as the fire vanished as quickly as it had come, the demon that had stood there a moment before nowhere to be seen. He couldn't feel his heartbeat, and his head was starting to feel fuzzy and light like the time he'd gotten high back in senior year. He wished he hadn't broken his cell so he could text Lisa and Sam an apology, but he dismissed the thought from his mind. It hurt to think. But strangely enough, nothing else really hurt at all anymore. It reminded him of the odd wash of calm that had settled over him when the hellhounds had finished ripping him apart.
Oh . . . He thought dazedly, staring up at the rising sun, I'm dying . . .
Sam growled in frustration as he got Dean's voicemail for the hundredth time in the last few hours. After his older brother's outburst at Adam he hadn't answered his phone at all, and as per usual, Sam was starting to panic. Adam lay on his stomach on the older brother's bed, having given up on trying to calm him. "Sam-"
"You shouldn't have pushed him, Adam!" Sam snapped, whirling on him and grabbing his half-sibling by the neck of his shirt, hauling him up until they were eye to eye.
"Sam-" he started, eyes narrowing dangerously.
"Don't you Sam me with that look! What if he went and did something reckless and stupid!"
"Then he did something reckless and stupid! That's just what Dean does!" Adam retorted.
Sam snarled in fury, and Adam flinched back, struggling in his grip as the older Winchester's cell went off in his free hand. "Dean! Where have you-"
"Sam! Oh thank god I reached you, I had to get your number from Bobby and-"
For a moment Sam didn't recognize the female voice on the other end, and he let out a sigh as he did, "Wait Lisa, slow down, slow down. What's-"
"Dean's . . ." Lisa faltered, an audible sob echoing through the receiver and making Sam stiffen. "Oh god, Sam . . . They found him in this old lot near this tree and . . . There was so much blood . . ."
Adam's eyes widened as Sam clenched the phone so hard in his hand that it shattered, a spark of fear rising in him. But surprisingly the older man let him go, and Adam slumped down onto the mattress again. "What happened to Dean?" he whispered, but Sam's hardened eyes were enough of an answer.
Ben was sitting in the kitchen when the phone rang, and he looked up from his laptop where he was going through the newspapers of multiple states, checking odd weather patterns and mysterious deaths with a lazy glance. He reached for it and tucked it between his shoulder and ear as he skimmed an article about a secretary that had vanished two months ago. "Hello?"
"Hey, Ben, is your mom home?" the eighteen year old recognized Bobby's voice immediately and sat up straighter. It had been a month since Dean had died, and he'd started diligently looking for signs that would lead him to find his uncles that had gone missing shortly after, any hunts they may have followed.
"No, she's at work," Ben informed, turning away from the computer with a flash of dread, "Is something wrong?"
"A buddy of mine found them," Bobby said slowly, as though hesitant to give the details to someone so young, "In the middle of a nest of demons. Ben . . . Sam and Adam . . . They had sigils carved into their body and were bleed to death."
Ben swallowed, "They rushed in-"
"They were broken and grieving, Ben," Bobby whispered, "Every hunter does it at some point. Even me. Their father especially. Sam and Adam just didn't live through it like the rest of us. Not even sure if they wanted to."
The boy shook his head, tears welling in his eyes, but he remained silent until Bobby hung up without further explanation, and he let the phone fall to the floor, fisting his fingers into his hair with a mumbled curse.
RANDOM AUTHOR RAMBLE
Yah, I know, the question is "where the hell are you going with this?" good question mon ami's, good question. Listen to the songs "Life after You" by Daughtry and "In Another Life" by The Veronicas. That should tell you all you need to know, and both songs are from Dean's POV. This first chappy was written just after the 100th ep, so I'm doing a lot of assuming, and whatever gets revealed after 5x18 will probably not relate to this little thing, so ignore it when it comes to this.
Also, raise your hands if you're totally opposed to the pair of Sam/Adam please. I need to know how much of it I can add later on. Lol. (I will not have none, because after 5x18, I became the lone fan. I want to call it Samdam. Ahahahaha.)
And as to a hint for the next chapter, don't you think it's weird that Ash couldn't find John and Mary in heaven? What if they're not there at all? What if they're . . . dun dun duuuuuhhnnn . . . On earth? Again, listen to the songs listed above. Major plot detailies.
If anyone is interested in beta-ing this thing, give me a holler, kay?