AN: Welcome to the last story in the Rose Winchester Chronicles!
Disclaimer: Do I really have to do this? Really? Wow. If I owned this, I would not be writing fanfiction. Oh well, I only own Rose and my ideas.
An 8.7 earthquake the coast of Chine today, killing hundreds. Scientists remain baffled by this recent surge in seismic activity—
Dean turned off the news, heading into the kitchen to get another whiskey. It had been two weeks since Lucifer had slipped his cage and, between the recent outbreaks of wars and natural disasters, the death toll was steadily rising. No one, not even Robert Singer, had any idea what to do, how to start. How do you beat the devil?
Hell, they had not even figured out how they got from the warehouse to Bobby's.
The Winchesters and Bobby had been holed up in the Singer house, staying up late researching, even translating archaic books into English, desperately searching for anything.
Rose was already in the kitchen when Dean entered, sitting at the table, head bowed over yet another book.
"Hey." It was the first thing Dean had said all day and it was approaching three in the afternoon, his voice hoarse from disuse and from alcohol.
"Hey." She raised bloodshot, exhausted eyes to briefly meet his.
"Wanna drink?" A month ago, he never would have offered his sister anything stronger than a Bud, but if the world was going to end, and Dean was pretty sure that it was going to, then he was not going to deny the girl her first drink.
Her mouth twisted at this sign of his disbelief. "You don't think we can stop it, do you?"
He did not want to answer that, so he just busied himself with uncapping the bottle of Jack. "When was the last time you got some sleep?"
She shrugged. "Don't remember."
"You should get some."
"I don't want to."
"None of us want to. But you'll be no good to us if you pass out."
She snorted. "'Cause we're doing so much good right now."
"Well then, why not live it up?" He raised his glass in a sarcastic toast. "Or, well, sleep it down. Whatever."
"The world is ending, Dean, "she snapped. "Why are you so concerned with my sleeping habits?"
"Because," he snapped back. "Because you're my little sister, and I know you. I know how you act in a crisis. You push yourself, yeah, but you don't go three days without sleep! Not if you can help it. If you were to walk outside to get a book from the car and demons attacked right now, you'd be useless!" He slammed his glass on the counter, whiskey slopping over the side. "Damn it, Rose! I can't, out there…" He gestured vaguely at the door. "I don't know what to do about that. But I can't lose you like this, not right here in front of me."
She raised her eyebrows at his outburst. "Are you trying to have an emotional talk, Dean?"
He crossed his arms, uncrossed, and then recrossed them. "Maybe."
"Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?"
"Oh, shut up, brat." It was said with affection and Rose knew it. "Come on, Rosie, give it up."
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "It's just, I can't. Sleep, I mean. Every time I try to close my eyes, I see…him."
"Lucifer."
She shook her head, sardonic smile on her lips. "No, no. Cas. I see Cas. The look on his face when he sent me away and I just, we, I, I can't." She pulled her feet into her chair and put her face on her knees so that, if she started to cry, her brother would not see. "It hurts, Dean. He died so that I could have a chance at stopping this. And I failed."
"You did the best you could." It was meager comfort, and he knew it. "Which means that it was the best anyone could do."
She made a broken sort of sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "What a thing to die for."
Both Winchesters were quiet for a long time while Dean tried to think of a different tactic. Emotional talks were not his forte. Where was emo-boy when you needed him?
Rose was the first to break the silence. "I kissed him." Her voice was so low that Dean had to strain to hear the words.
"What?"
"I kissed him." She looked up at him again. "When he said that it was worth it, dying for my chance, I kissed him." A spark of defiance lit up her eyes, daring Dean to disapprove. "And then he kissed me. Right before he sent me back, he kissed me."
Now Dean was really and truly out of his element. "Uhm…so, did you, do you…" He took a drink out of his glass, a gulp really, too big and he coughed. "I guess you had a crush on him?"
All of the defiance bled out of her and she slumped in her chair, her feet hitting the floor with a dull thud. "I don't know. He was getting ready to die, Dean. Kissing him seemed like the thing to do."
"And looking back?"
She shrugged. "I just, Dean, Cas and I shared part of the same soul. That's kind of a hard connection to deny."
He could not argue with that, so he just took a sip of his drink, wishing the answer was in the bottom of his glass.
"I think that's what's really bothering me. I know he's dead here." She pointed at her head. "And I mourn his death here." She laid her hand over her heart, looking so grown-up and solemn that Dean hurt a little. "But," she continued." I don't feel it. Deeper, down in my core. I mean, what kind of person can have a part of their own soul just die and not feel a damn thing?"
"I don't think that the problem lies with you," came a voice from the corner of the room. "But in the fact that I was not dead very long."
Dean dropped his glass, the sound of it breaking mixing with the sound of Rose scraping her chair back and scrambling to her feet.
"Castiel?" She whispered, eyes huge with disbelief as she stared at her friend, standing there looking a little pale and worn, hair more mussed and clothes more wrinkled than usual, but beautifully alive and just beautiful period. "Is it really? Are you? I don't…"
"It's me." He held his hand out to her.
She felt like she was moving through water as she reached out to take it. When they touched and she felt that familiar scorching but not burning heat, she all but melted against his front. "Have I ever applauded your sense of timing?"
He smiled down at her with the same smile he gave her back in the woods. Then he kissed her.
It was different from their first kisses. Those were full of fear and desperation and good-bye. This one was life affirming, hands bracing instead of clutching, lips moving carefully against one another instead of crushing together, joy seeping through the simple contact.
Dean watched them with mixed reactions. One was a brotherly urge to tear them apart because that was his little sister damn it, a fellow cannot just make out with her in front of him, even if he is an angel. The other was an equally strong older brother's urge to give them some space because she was his sister and damn it the world was ending, didn't she deserve some happiness? The conflicting feelings kept him gawking awkwardly in the kitchen and damn it were they ever going to come up for air?
They were finally interrupted when Sam wandered in from the living room. "Uhm…guys? I think I missed something…."
