Written for comment_fic on Livejournal
Prompt was A Home at the End of the World (for Book titles day)
They hadn't expected to be old men.
Cas particularly hadn't.
But really none of them did.
So what do you do when your big brother is dying? Or when the man you fell from grace for is dying?
When the man who once wielded Micael's sword is barely able to lift his glass of water?
Do you respect his wishes, as he continues to bark out orders, even as he can barely breathe? Do you go along with his idea, that they should keep hunting -- that he might still be able to go down the way he always thought he would -- shooting something, protecting someone, _fighting_ for survival?
Or do you, both of you, try desperately to convince him to give you just a little more time with him? Do you remind him that you will might very well fall apart when he's gone, and shouldn't he do his damn best to stick around?
Do you drag him to a house far away from all your bad memories, way out on the edge of nowhere? Do you sit together every day, Dean in the middle, on the porch bench, watching every sunrise and every sunset, calmly ignoring his gasping for breath, his cringing in pain? Do you finally, after all these years, learn to share him without jealousy or resentment?
Do you learn to enjoy the grass under your feet? Do you learn to call some younger hunter when you notice a dangerous trend? Do you finally, after all these years, learn to cook?
He is angry at you, although he hides it. Angry at both of you. He wanted to go down fighting. He wanted to go out with a bang, with blood and fire and shots ringing out. With a clear and definite end.
But instead, you insisted that he lingers with you, as you cling to him tightly in your home at the end of the world.