Title: And He Remembered
Genre: Angst, Au
Characters: Dean/Castiel, Sam, OC
Word Count: 2,131
AN: This was written during my two day stint of horrible food poisoning and unbelievable boredom. It was inspired by Paul Gross's Ride Forever. Which is an awesome song. *Nods head* yeppers it sure is. Any ways this was supposed to be a Valentine Day fic but I posted it late because well I don't know why…I just couldn't bring myself to put it up. It made me sniffle a little when I wrote it so…I hope it's not too depressing.
Large flakes of snow drifted down out of the darkened sky joining the mass of snow covering the ground. The few that landed on Dean's skin left tiny pin pricks of coldness before they melted and turned into water running down the sides of his face.
With his eyes closed Dean tipped his head towards the sky. His knee ached and he found it hard to just simply stand and breathe in the cold air.
Age had taken its toll on him, years of violence, of broken bones, and pulled muscles. Of cuts tearing open his skin spilling his blood had finally caught up. His knee ached from the years ago it had been popped out by the Chupacabra that had been attacking hikers down in New Mexico. His knuckles burned with arthritis from the thousand different times he had slammed his fist into walls, doors, and monsters.
Sighing Dean shuffled his weight to his other leg, not that that leg was much better. The ankle on that one burned from the Hydra that Dean and Cas had taken down after purgatory had been opened up.
That had been a long time ago, years now faded, memories and pictures clumping together in the back of his crumbling mind. The Mother of all had been released and Sam and him had done what they had always done. They had fought against the big bad, sacrificing themselves, their lives and safety for the greater good.
Bobby. Dean squeezed his eyes shut harder at the memory of the man that had become their father after their own father had died. Bobby had died in that battle. He had gotten old, slow, he sacrificed himself so Dean and Sam could live. He gave up his life so Dean and Sam could continue the fight.
Dean remembered the silence at first, the muted silence that had settled over his entire being. The disbelief that someone else that he cared for, loved, had been taken from him, from Sammy. He hadn't believed it, didn't want to believe it.
Until Cas had shown up, his clothes and trench coat rumbled and torn, his face dejected and forlorn. He had shook his head and said that Bobby was gone, in heaven with the rest of them, with Ellen, Jo, and Ash, the others that had sacrificed their lives for Dean and Sam.
The silence had broke then, he had screamed and yelled, cursed and accused, put all the blame on Cas; screamed that Cas was useless. He had taken all of his anger out on Cas. And Cas had let him, he stood there shoulders squared eyes half lidded with sadness as Dean let all the anger, the sadness, and fear that had built up in him over the years.
Sam had sat on the motel bed; head hung low tears dripping off the ends of his lashes.
Dean continued to fight, he continued on. Sam on his right, Cas on his left. They had fought against the legions of demons and monsters. Against Raphael and the Mother.
Nearly thirty years ago, when Dean had started going grey at the temples, when Sam was starting to gather more laugh lines by the corner of his eyes they had found something that had changed their lives.
A baby, small and innocent, crying, screaming with its small lungs as blood covered it. It had been meant as a sacrifice to the Mother. It had been meant to be killed so that someone else could gain power. But Dean and Sam had saved it. They had saved her. And they couldn't bear the thought of giving her up, sending her way to spend the rest of her life with strangers.
They had named her Mary, she was small and blonde and when Dean poked his finger inside the blanket to make sure she was okay she had grabbed onto his finger and smiled up at him.
It had taken them another ten years before they had been able to kill The Mother. No it wasn't them; they had only a small part in it. Cas. Cas had killed her. He had shown up when Dean and Sam had been near the brink of death. He had showed up in all his glory and blasted that bitch out of creation.
When Dean had come to, Sam and Mary were peering down at him, concern furrowing their brows. For two people who not related by blood they had remarkably similar facial expressions. Cas was passed out cold on the bed next to him; the trench coat was gone his shirt and tie as well. He lay there in a t-shirt and a pair of Dean's old pajama bottoms.
Sam had told him after Dean had eaten the food that Sam had gotten for him that Cas was breathing. Dean had sat there in the motel room chair staring at the sleeping form, at the sleeping man. Cas had fallen, he was human again, he had given up his angelic powers to help save Dean, Sam, and Mary. To save the world.
A snow flake landed on Dean's closed eye lid, it was soft whisper of touch before it melted and ran like a tear down his cheek.
They had stopped hunting after that. They moved to a small backwater town had enrolled Mary in the local school. And she had grown up, she had grown up with friends, going to sleepovers, had gone to her first school dance.
Sam had to hold Dean back when her date kissed her on the front porch. Cas had stood silent beside Dean, a small smile gracing his lips as he watched his daughter receive her first kiss.
Mary had grown up into a young girl, then a young teenager, then finally a woman. She had loved and hated, had loved and lost. She had been broken hearted and broken hearts. And Dean watched it all with Cas beside him.
Sam had never gotten married he had a few girlfriends but had never settled down, his old life, the marks and gashes that mired his soul made it impossible to feel whole with another person.
Sam had died six years ago. It hadn't been the way Dean had always thought he would die. He thought would Sam would go out in a flurry of anger; that he would be struck down in battle; that he would die fighting.
But instead he had died in a hospital bed, oxygen tubes shoved up his nose. While Dean, Cas, and Mary sat beside him holding his hand. Talking softly to him as he slowly slipped away. His hair was peppered with graying strands; wrinkles had accumulated on the corners of his mouth and eyes. He had slipped off easy and peacefully, Dean had sat there for hours after his brother's life had faded away. He sat there until the nurses came in and told him that they had to move his brother's body out of the room.
That night he had fallen asleep with his head in Cas's lap, Mary sitting on the floor her head next to Dean's resting on Cas's knees.
On his tomb stone it read
Samuel Winchester
Born May 2, 1983
Died February 1, 2038
Brother, Uncle, Solider
Another snow flake dropped onto his eyelid and it quickly turned into water and ran down his cheek. He swallowed back the lump in his throat.
Mary three years later, splayed out on the ground, blood soaking through her shirt. Body weak and barely moving. Cas clinging desperately onto her body as he screamed at her to come back to stay alive. Dean had never seen Cas lose control like that, had never seen Cas break down so horribly before. Dean had sat beside him, whispering soft meaningless soothing words into her ear.
Her body had shuddered and the life went out of her. The monster that had attacked her, the monster that she had been hunting was dead moments later. Cas stood over it Mary's blood smeared down his chest, down his face, the blood from the monster, a Fury that had escaped when Purgatory was ripped open, soaking the blade he held.
Her tombstone read.
Mary Deanna Winchester
Born September 3rd, 2019
Died February 9th, 2041
Daughter, Niece, Solider
Dean had held onto Cas that night as Cas clung back his eyes squeezed shut his shoulders, his entire body, shaking as he howled with grief. As Dean eyes burned and his soul cracked.
Two years later, Cas not moving. His body still and cold in the bed they shared. His face drawn into a peaceful content look. Dean had pressed his lips against Cas's cheek; against Cas's lips. He had ran his hand down Cass face closing Cas's eyelids all the way, Cas had never grown out of the habit of sleeping with his eyelids part of the way open.
His tombstone read.
Castiel Winchester
Died February 14, 2043
Husband, Father, Brother, Solider
Dean opened his eyes, starring at the night sky. At the way the snowflakes drifted down out of the darkness.
He imagined that Cas was staring back at him, that from somewhere up in Heaven Cas was watching him the not quite a small tugging at the corner of his lips. He imagined Sam standing beside him, Mary between them her blonde hair falling over her shoulders catching the light as she grinned. His mother and father, his grandfather and grandmother. He imagined them all standing waiting, watching for him.
And he remembered all the good times. He remembered the moments where his heart soared and nothing could wipe the grin off of his face.
He remembered feeling Mary's heart thump peacefully in her chest. Sam making baby noises at her, his face scrunched up his floppy hair falling down around his face. Cas holding her at arm's length examining her like she was going to spit up on him any minute; she had done so seconds later.
He remembered singing in the car with his brother, playing pranks on him. Calling him names and ruffling his hair. Sam punching him when he made a quip about Sam's sexuality; about how girly and nerdish he was.
He remembered Cas laying beside him, his now human body breathing in deeply as Dean's hands touched his naked flesh. How Cas's body with move in perfect rhythm with his; his groans and moans being suppressed by Dean's mouth so Sam and Mary wouldn't hear them.
Cas's ring heavy and warm on his finger as his hand pressed against Dean's cheek in the morning as he kissed Dean good morning. Dean's own silver band on his finger resting on the kitchen the table, a cup of coffee in his other hand.
His family growing changing, Mary presenting her first boyfriend, as Dean tried not reach for the pistol he kept in a drawer next to the couch. Cas grabbing his hand, holding on tight because he knew why Dean's hand twitched. Sam's voice low and dangerous as he threatened Mary's boyfriend with unimaginable things if he laid a finger on her or went anywhere below the neck.
Mary holding up the crown, her middle finger saluting the crowd of stunned teachers and students as she accepted the honor of Prom Queen then moments later had it stripped from her for inappropriate behavior. Dean had never been prouder.
Sitting beside Cas and Sam as he watched Mary walk on stage, her graduation gown billowing in the wind, her hair whipped out behind her and for a moment she was given the illusion that she had wings. Dean had heard Cas suck in a breath of air at the sight.
Mary's name announced as Valid Victorian, her speech to the other kids graduating ended with "Fuck establishment, who gives a fuck what everyone else says, do what you want be who you fucking want to be. Fuck all this bullshit about destiny and fate…you make your own path. So don't be a pussy and be what you want."
Dean and Sam could be heard laughing over the yell of outraged parents and scandalized teachers. Cas had sat beside them a grin plastered on his face.
Dean remembered it all and smiled, a soft smile, a smile of an old man that had lived a long hard life. Turning around Dean walked in his tracks that were starting to fill in from the snow. Stopping at the front door Dean looked back at the sky.
"Happy Valentine's Day guys…I'll see you in a bit." Closing the door against the frigid wind and snow Dean smiled one last time up at the sky.
On Dean's tombstone it read.
Dean Winchester
Born January 24, 1979
Died February 14, 2044
Father, Brother, Husband, Solider
