Prologue: Homestead

It was much more comfortable inside, but the children were still up. Thus, it was also a lot noisier. Dean shivered as he stepped onto the porch and let the screen door fall closed behind him. His stomach was pleasantly full. He distributed thick glasses, leaving one aside.

Unscrewing the top, Dean immediately caught the somewhat heavy smell of the liquor. He had thought about testing his own product, but had decided to go with a bottle of store bought whiskey. There would be plenty of time to sample his home distilled brew when Sam and Gabriel got back from their supply run.

'What're you waiting for?' Bobby grumbled. Smiling, Dean poured, filling their glasses to the brim. The liquid swirled around, all warm-looking.

'Michael's still abstaining?' Bobby asked. He shook his head as if he couldn't quite believe that someone would be that stupid. Raphael took his time answering. They all sipped their drinks, sighing with pleasure as the whiskey slowly burned its way down to join their food.

'Knowing him, he's busy praying for our souls,' Bobby said, thereby answering his own question. This happened frequently if you talked to Raphael. He had the tendency to spend so much time thinking about the simplest of inquiries that often it was easier to move the conversation along without his help.

It never ceased to amaze Dean how different the three brothers were.

Michael; a Bible thumper if ever Dean saw one.

The stoical Raphael.

Gabriel, the youngest, who was the polar opposite of the other two. Gabriel did everything Michael abhorred: drinking, gambling, and whoring. And while you couldn't get Raphael to talk, you couldn't get Gabriel to shut up.

Dusk was already settling in. Winter was now really beginning in earnest. In the distance, Dean could distinguish the blurry lights of town. That was where the fourth brother resided. Lucifer: the bad one. Dean's musings on the differences between the brothers were interrupted by the sudden appearance of Castiel at his side.

Masking his start with a tremble from the cold, Dean handed the bottle to him. The young man accepted it with a nod. Dean smelled straw, horses and dust as Castiel passed him. It was a mystery to Dean why Castiel didn't dine with them. After spending his day amongst animals, Dean was usually relieved to be able to sit down and be able to talk to someone other than Gabriel. Castiel, on the other hand, seemed to like to eat his evening meals in the stables.

Dean got to talking with Bobby about how soon the first snow was going to fall. The sky was certainly right for it. Blue patches that were losing ground to grey and brown clouds. It grew darker and cooler as the two of them got onto the subject of whether Michael needed to fortify the fences.

They asked Raphael about the crops, which elicited a 'fine.' After discussing every detail of the past season with Bobby; diseases, breeding, cattle prices and such, Dean entreated Raphael to play them a song. Without a word, Raphael entered the house.

Taking advantage of the less crowded porch, Dean got up and refilled their glasses. Again, he reacted startled when Castiel reached out from the near darkness to have his glass filled too. Bobby saw it and chuckled.

'He claims he's Gabriel's, but are we sure he ain't yours?' he asked a returned Raphael, commenting on their shared fondness of silence.

'Don't make fun of the boy,' Jessica scolded him. She held the screen door open while Anna carried the quilts. They each received one and Dean for one was thankful. The nights were getting too cold to sit outside like this, even with the aid of some whiskey.

'You better get upstairs. Your mother wants you to help put your brothers to bed,' Jessica nudged. Briefly, Anna stared at the whiskey, before darting inside. Jessica wished them goodnight and followed her.

Raphael nipped from his newly filled glass and adjusted the guitar in his lap. There was a whole ritual to it. He plucked at the strings and fiddled with the screws. This involved a lot of listening and tiny, almost imperceptible changes being made. When he was satisfied, he strummed softly and hummed a few notes before he started singing.

It was a new song every time. Raphael didn't take requests. Sometimes when Dean saw him in the field, his head above the fresh green corn or kneeling between the turnips, it looked as if he was composing songs. Maybe he wanted to try them out on the vegetables before performing them before a human audience. Or maybe he thought it would make the crops grow faster and bigger.

The refrain stuck with Dean this time.

Don't call it a prairie if you fence it in

You could call it a pasture but the topsoil's thin

It just might rain but then again

It will not make a difference

Everyone was silent for a few seconds when Raphael had finished.

'It was...'

Dean struggled to find the right word. It wasn't an unhappy song, not really. It also wasn't flat out sombre. Mournful? There was a bit of longing too. In his shady corner of the porch, Castiel mumbled something. Raphael and Dean turned to look at him.

'Wistful,' Bobby, who sat closest to Castiel, repeated.

'Yeah, wistful,' Dean agreed. Desire tinged with sadness. A collective shudder ran through the company and they simultaneously got to their feet. Dean let the others go in first. As he collected the glasses, it started to snow. Suddenly, he felt frozen to his core. It was that kind of night. Nothing was wrong. It just wasn't right either.

(***)

Author's note: Story and chapter titles correspond to song titles from Michelle Shocked. Lyrics from the song Raphael sings are from her song Homestead.