You got a fast car
But is it fast enough so we can fly away?
We gotta make a decision
We leave tonight or live and die this way.
~~ Fast Car (Tracy Chapman)
"So this is it? ET goes home."
~x~x~x~
That had been months ago, and yet here Dean was; some shady bar, middle of the night, who-knows-what-number glass of whiskey being nursed between his hands.
A few girls had tried to draw his attention over the course of the night. The last one would have been perfect about a year ago but now... everything had just been slightly off.
Her hair had been a little too long and a little too light, her eyes hadn't been the right shade of blue, her face had been too round and her clothes too tight, showing off everything she wanted people to see, rather than wearing a trenchcoat that left Dean guessing.
People had left him alone after her, it was late and he'd been filed under 'lost cause' by everyone left in the bar. Even the bartender was giving him side long looks that showed she wanted to ask but she didn't dare to.
The hunter downed the last of his drink and tapped the bar before paying his tab.
The cool, night air cut into his skin when he stepped outside.
He was safe to drive. Probably.
Dean could smell alcohol on the breeze next to the bar along with the general smell of clean that came after a rainfall. Besides the sounds of cars driving through puddles, sending out small tidal waves, he could hear laughing, a car alarm, dogs barking, just sounds of night time and a completely ordinary world that continues to turn, regardless of individuals.
It was a clear night, no clouds blocking the light of the stars in the heavens above. The elder Winchester leant heavily on the side of the impala, simply looking up.
He could still see that night, how small pockets of blue light had lit up the sky like miniature suns, leaving ripples of blue and white in the vast void as all the Angels went home; each one disappearing in the blink of an eye.
'Solar flares' scientists had said. Completely unexpected, witnessed all over the world, solar flares.
It was all balls.
There were only a few who knew what had really happened, but even some of them didn't care.
They didn't care that Cas was risking his life to go back and sort everything out.
They didn't care that there was an empty room in the bunker, with a bed still made up even though the one it was intended for had never slept in it.
They didn't care that there was a hole in Dean's family that would never be filled.
Shit, he got drunk so he didn't have to think about this. But here he was, these stupid Goddamn thoughts still swirling around his head along with haunting memories of clear, blue eyes and wind-tunnel hair.
He's better off there, Dean thought to himself.
He's where he belongs.
He'll be alright.
They're his family.
But Cas' family were dicks. Plain and simple. Dean could only hope that he was still alive, that he was still a wave-y, holy whatever and that things were being sorted out.
The drive back to the Bunker was half an hour of more thinking that Dean couldn't avoid no matter what. So long had he spent just ignoring everything that, now, these thoughts were everywhere and they took every opportunity to slap realisations into him. Waking or not, every look and every word would come back and show him something he had failed to see the first time around.
But to think that he had only had these thoughts, these... feelings, since Cas had left was just another lie that finished off the house of cards that was the hunter's life.
The first major realisation had hit him in Purgatory, next to that lake; seeing Cas after so long had torn away at the walls he had built around himself, stripping away at the fear and hatred until all that was left was-
No, he wouldn't think it if he had never told the Angel. It felt almost like an insult to a dead friend.
Even though Cas wasn't dead, he couldn't be.
And the other man wasn't just a friend, not any more.
The roads grew quieter as Dean drove and they seemed to stretch on forever in front of him, the dim lighting making the trees lining the road seem monochrome in colour, like the ones in Purgatory. Everything lead back to that place - that realisation - if Dean looked at it too long. He hated it. He should have just said something.
~x~x~x~
The Bunker door closed with a clang and Sam looked up blearily from where he sat at one of the first tables in the library with his laptop.
"Dude, where've you been? It's past one." he asked, standing up as Dean came down the steps.
"Just out, Sammy, don't worry about it."
And there was the bitchface. "You've been drinking again." Sam didn't phrase it like a question, he already knew.
"Dont worry, I only had a couple." Dean waved his hand but he could hear the lie in his own words as the slurred together a little.
Sam moved and blocked his path to the bedrooms. "'A couple'? What, a couple hundred?" the younger brother snorted. "You gotta stop doing this Dean! This is the worst I've seen you in years!" He bit his lip in hesitation before asking more quietly "Is this about Cas?"
Dean made eye contact now and tried to ignore the tears that wanted to spill over, like a dam finally breaking. "What? No, of course not! He's back home now, ain't he? He'll be better off."
"Dean-"
"Just don't, Sam. Don't; he left us and that's obviously what he wanted. He's gonna patch up Heaven and, if we're lucky, we won't have to see any of them flying dick-monkeys again, period." Dean snapped, moving around Sam and carrying on towards his room.
He glanced back when Sam gave a long sigh to find the bitchface his brother had been sporting had turned into a combination of 'talking-to-you-is-like-pulling-teeth' and 'I-know-that-isn't-the-full story-so-we're-not-done-talking'.
"G'night Sammy."Dean told him before carrying on to his room, looking at the door just next to it for too long of a time. "G'night Cas." he breathed.
~x~x~x~
In January, Charlie came to live in the Bunker along with Sam, Dean and Kevin, after the computers had given in for a week due to Sam trying to set up a database and some other crap Dean couldn't understand.
Another bed was made up, across the hall and one door down from Castiel's room, because that would always be Castiel's room.
Between them (as in Dean tried to keep up but ended up feeling more like he was intruding) they managed to get the computers going again and Charlie helped to set up an internal index, ready for everything the Men of Letters had to be catalogued.
After that, Charlie had insisted that they all absolutely needed to watch Game of Thrones and so Dean was on coffee duty. He was padding back to the room they had cleared of boxes and turned into a make-shift living room, to ask Charlie how many sugars she wanted in her coffee, when he heard them all talking. And not chatty talk-y, no, that was Sam's serious voice.
"... So where's Castiel? I thought he'd be here with you guys?" Charlie was asking.
Dean could basically hear the awkward fall over the room, even before Sam spoke.
"He, uhh, he locked the gates of Heaven. All the Angels went back upstairs, including Cas. Just- just don't mention it around Dean. He's still not over it."
The older brother heard Charlie gasp. "What? That's terrible! I feel like you need to fill me in on what's going on. Again."
Dean didn't want to hear any more of that conversation; that he was being reminded that he'd be making four cups of coffee and not five.
Quietly, he walked back down the corridor before going back to the living room again, this time exaggerating his steps so that they'd echo, that they'd hear him coming and move on from talking about the stupid Angels by the time he got there.
When he leant around the door, asking how many sugars Charlie wanted, he was met by a conversation about Game of Thrones compared to Lord of the Rings and smiles on the faces looking up at him.
It just made him feel worse.
~x~x~x~
In mid-February, Dean started praying again. Before, on or after hunts, in the Bunker, driving the impala, just whenever.
He didn't pray to God or for anything in particular. No, Dean's prayers were more like one-sided conversations between him and Cas. Because Cas was still listening, he could just feel it.
They'd always start off the same way; Dean would tell the Angel about recent hunts, about the dog that had a hair cut that matched Sam's (and about how Sam had punched him in the shoulder when he had told him that), about what TV series Charlie had them all watching next, about how Kevin was planning on going back to school, possibly college too.
Then it would be silent for a few moments before Dean would sigh and give in to the inevitable. He would tell Cas about how he hoped he was alright, that things were being sorted out, tell him about stupid things that would remind him of the other man; 'should've seen this cat, man, I swear you'd've loved it' or 'I saw someone in a trench this morning... I almost thought it was you'.
Sometimes, when Dean was truly low, he could almost hear the beat of Angel wings as Cas came home; came to his real home, with them - with Dean - in the Bunker. He would listen for the sound of wind rushing through feathers, the sound that haunted his sleep as much as a deep, rumbling voice did.
But it never came, of course. No, Castiel was still gone and Dean was basically just talking to himself.
"I was such a coward, Cas. I'm so sorry." was how most of Dean's 'prayers' would end.
~x~x~x~
This was the routine that Dean kept up for the next few months.
When May rolled around, they ended up on a werewolf hunt on Sam's birthday. Charlie had wanted them all to go to some con but Sam had been set on stopping the monster; Dean could only agree, it had killed four people already.
The tracking was long and Dean was ready to give up when they finally got a hit; a middle-aged guy had just broken into a convenience store and threatened the cashier. He'd legged it when someone had started calling the police, however, so they'd just have to go from there.
From there, it didn't take long for the brothers to find the current hideout of the werewolf before shooting him full of silver and burning the body.
It was the fourth when they finally set off back to the Bunker, a classic rock station playing from the impala's radio but not loud enough so as Sam couldn't talk over it.
"So... Are- are you okay, man?" he asked, glancing over at Dean.
"What? Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" And as things went, he was fine; no (deadly) injuries from the hunt, he'd eaten that morning and gotten a fair amount of sleep, he was practically golden by Winchester standards.
Sam sighed. "I don't just mean about the hunt, Dean, I mean about... you know."
Dean threw a frown at his little brother. "No, Sammy I don't know; what the Hell are you on about?"
"It's gonna be a year in about a week, Dean." Sam said quietly, not exactly sure what to expect as a reaction.
Dean's jaw clenched, as did his hands until his knuckles turned white while his gaze on the road turned steely. "And?" he tried to ask nonchalantly but his voice sounded tense, even to his own ears.
"I was just wondering if you were, I don't know, okay or-"
"Sam, stop; I'm fine, okay? Cas is back in Heaven and that's that, there's nothing to be done so we just gotta keep going."
"But what about your 'prof-'"
"Drop it, Sam, or I am stopping this car and your ass is walking back to Kansas, you hear me?" Dean snapped, glaring at his brother until the puppy eyes became I look of resigned acceptance.
The rest if the drive back to the Bunker was silent. Five hours of Dean's mind whispering yeah, but you're not really fine, are you? and coward, you should have said something while you had the chance.
~x~x~x~
When May fifteenth finally arrived, Dean decided that he would act as if it were any other day.
That it hadn't been a year since 'Dean, I'm not wrong. I'll fix my home' and then... nothing.
Dean had told Sam about the trials, about how they'd kill him if he finished them. He'd been ill that night, had been for months after, but Dean had made sure that he got better.
'What's happening?' Sam gasped. 'Angels. They're going back to Heaven.'
The older brother rubbed a hand over his face as he sat up in bed. He wasn't going to think about it, about any of it.
Just a few years ago he didn't believe in Angels and, now, the world was almost the same; not a speck of holy feather dusters in sight so he could, surely, go back to how he used to be?
No, that idea was basically laughable. After everything they had been through, there was no going back, not ever.
"Mornin', Sam." Dean yawned, moving past where his brother was eating and into the main part of the kitchen to make himself some coffee.
The younger Winchester seemed to hesitate before answering. "Heya, Dean. Charlie was saying we need to go on a supply run soon so do you mind if I borrow the impala?"
Dean glanced over his shoulder to where his brother was sitting. "I'll go if you want, didn't you want to find that- that thing with Kevin?"
"The archaic demon tome? Yeah, but, I was just thinking... with today being-"
"If you say something about Angels, I swear to God, Sammy, I will kick your ass." Dean glared, pouring himself a cup of coffee.
Sam sighed and Dean could tell his younger brother had finally reached his breaking point. "Dean, you're going to have to talk about it sometime."
"Sam, there's nothing to talk about! The Angels got locked up, Crowley is who-knows-where and we're back on the job. There's nothing to talk about." the older brother practically growled.
"That's not all of it, Dean, you and I both know that." Sam snapped.
"Yes, it is! What do you want me to say? There's nothing more to say!" Dean's grip on his mug hurt his hand and he almost feared it was going to shatter. His jaw was also clenched, so tight he could feel pain in his teeth.
"Dean, Cas wasn't just an Angel, he was our fri-"
"Just drop it, Sam. They're back in Heaven and that's that! Whether we talk about this," Dean gestured between them. "Or not, it doesn't matter; they're upstairs and that's the way it's gonna stay because Cas banged up the gates with all of those winged dicks inside." The older brother could feel all of the old anger and sadness and simply pure desperation sliding back into his voice; he could hear it, he knew Sam could hear it, but he just didn't care anymore. The Angels were gone and that was the truth, his own feelings be damned.
Sam pulled a bitchface. "That doesn't mean you shouldn't talk about it."
"Yeah, well," Dean downed the last of his coffee. "I'm not going to talk about anything, and that's just the way it's gonna be."
Just as Dean was about to leave the kitchen, Charlie came through with a toothbrush in her mouth.
"A'right, wha' t'e Hel' 're you pair gettin' pisshy abou' a'ready?"
"I have a stupid sister." Dean grumbled.
"Dean is being an emotionally constipated jerk." Sam glared at the same time.
Charlie eyed them both before pulling her toothbrush out with a pop. "Both of you, sit. Tell your queen your woes." she gestured to the table.
Sam sat heavily into his chair and Dean flopped down into the chair next to him, a deep frown on his face.
"Right, children, we're going to learn about turn taking. Sam, go." the red head pouted, hands on her hips (toothbrush still clutched in her left fist).
"Today it's been a year since the Angels returned to Heaven, and I know that Dean isn't 'okay' or whatever other bull he comes out with; I'm not okay about it; Cas was our friend. And Dean, being Dean, is looking for something to do with how he feels," Sam emphasised the word and glared at his brother as he did so. "At the bottom of a bottle, rather than talk about it." Sam finished, crossing his arms like the little bitch that he is, Dean thought.
Charlie nodded slowly, eyes narrowing. "So... Dean's not using his 'emotions' setting again, right. Thank you Mr Wright, I shall consider your case. Defendant, go."
Dean pulled a look that could rival his brothers infamous bitchface before rolling his eyes with a sigh. "I just don't see why I have to talk about this; with you guys or, Hell, just with anybody! Sure, there's shit that's happened, but that's just it - it's happened, show's over, everybody pack up and go home. If Sam could just get off my back for five minutes, instead of playing freaking Dr. Phil then I'd be a whole lot better."
Charlie nodded again, her face softening a little. "I know you don't like it, but you should talk, Dean."
"Oh come on, Charlie? You too?! I ca-" the elder Winchester interrupted.
Charlie, however, spoke over him. "If Cas meant as much to you as I think he did - and the queen is never wrong - then you're missing him and it's tearing you up; big manly macho-ness be damned."
"Exactly!" Sam cried, turning to face his brother. "Your drinking's gotten worse, I know you're not sleeping, you've got an even shorter fuse than normal; we're trying to help, Dean."
Dean stood up quickly, staring both of them down. "So what do you want me to say, huh? Come on, if I'm supposed to pour my heart out, then where should I start?" The older hunter knew that he was shouting now, could see Kevin standing in the doorway looking both apprehensive and confused.
Sam stood as well, hands slightly raised in a placating gesture. "The truth, Dean."
"The truth?" Dean spat. "Okay, fine, here's the truth; yeah, I do miss him, of course I do! What kinda friend would I be if I didn't? 'Cause we were friends, me and him; heck, we were all /family/, unlike those dicks who claimed to be his brothers. No, we actually cared. What other stupid crap do you wanna hear? That his room is still made up? That sometimes I expect him to drop in and then I remember? That I lo-" Dean broke off, choked by his own words, his eyes going wide and he backed away from his brother (who he had begun to crowd as he shouted).
His own breathing was far too loud in his ears, almost as loud as his voice, as loud as what he had almost said; something that he hadn't said to someone else in so long.
"Dean-" Said man looked up to find the other three looking at him, shock on all their faces as Sam spoke. "Dean, I-"
"Save it, Sam; just leave me alone." the older brother growled, storming from the room, the heavy weight of such a compromising almost settling over his shoulders and his chest.
~x~x~x~
The door was locked and Dean was blaring whatever music he had in his room as loud as he could. Despite this, however, he could still here his brother pounding on his door, shouting through to 'open up' and 'come on, Dean; don't be like this'.
Dean ignored him, waiting until he was sure that the other three inhabitants of the Bunker had gone to bed before shutting off the music and creeping into the kitchen.
He'd never gotten the chance to have breakfast, and that had been over twelve hours ago. Still, he wasn't hungry, not for food anyway. Dean pulled the unopened bottle of whiskey down from the top cupboard and grabbed a glass too.
"You need to eat something proper." Sam's voice came from behind him and Dean tensed.
"Go away, Sam; I'm not hungry." Dean muttered, pouring two fingers. He then considered it and added an extra finger; much better.
"Dean, you have the biggest appetite of anyone I've ever known; there is no way you're not hungry." The younger brother leaned, with his back against the counter, next to Dean, trying to get him to look over.
"Yeah, well." Dean downed half of the burning liquid and relished the feeling of it scorching down his throat and settling with an almost acidic burn in his stomach.
Sam sighed, turning so as to face his brother completely. "Dean, y-"
"Sam, I said go away. I've talked and it just made it worse, now fuck off." the elder Winchester grunted before taking another sip of his drink.
The younger hunter was looking at Dean again, the look plastered across his face that Dean completely hated; the one that said 'I'm Oprah, let me help'.
Dean sighed; long and weary. "Sam-"
"No, Dean; running away won't help and you know that." the younger Winchester told him.
"And what good is talking when the end result will stay the same?" Dean snapped, already growing tired of the conversation.
Dean tried to ignore the pity in his brother's eyes. "... They might come back someday." Sam said quietly after a small hesitation.
The older brother snorted. "Yeah, no. No, that's not gonna happen and we both know it. Those tree-toppers are locked away upstairs and they ain't coming back."
"But-"
"There are no 'but's about this, Sam!" Dean snapped, anger rising in his voice; anger directed not at Sam, not at Cas, but at himself. He doesn't know for certain that saying something would have changed anything but at least he wouldn't be left with all these 'what if's and 'if I had only's. "Now drop it." he grabbed the bottle of whiskey, abandoning his glass, and was at the edge of the kitchen when his brother's next few, softly spoken, words made him stop.
"I think I always kinda knew, ya know?" Sam told the counter that he was looking down at. "Before Cas, even; I'd see you looking at a guy occasionally but I knew you wouldn't do anything, I'm gonna guess it was something to do with pleasing dad or being a good son or some other crap." Sam sighed and turned to face him again. "Then Cas showed up and, at first it was all... business and saving the world, right? But some time after he fell... He'd look at you like you looked at him when you thought no one could see.
"At first I thought I might have been imagining it, but that year we spent surrounded by leviathans? And no matter what, you always had his coat? It finally clicked and... I just want to see you happy, man."
Dean squared his shoulders, his brother's words cutting like shards of ice into his skin, despite how gentle the voice that spoke them was. "Well, there's nothing anyone can do to fix things now, is there? I've fucked up and I'm just gonna have to live with it." was all the elder Winchester said before leaving for his room again, wishing that he'd brought another bottle with him.
~x~x~x~
Spring and Summer passed without further mention of their lost friend.
During that time, they'd helped Garth with a couple of cases and, afterwards, another room had been filled in the Bunker due to the gangly hunter coming to stay with them too.
However, as September approached, Sam started to give Dean more of the 'are you okay?' looks and 'I'm here to talk if you want to' glances.
If Dean was honest, it was starting to drive him nuts. Charlie and Kevin were doing it too; just occasionally looking over at him with something akin to sympathy in their eyes. He hated it, it got under his skin and it was an itch he simply couldn't scratch.
Garth, however, was seemingly oblivious. The hunter would slide around the Bunker in his socks, humming songs nobody recognised under his breath and was generally easy to be around, no matter how excitable he was.
Dean didn't know which were worse to be around.
~x~x~x~
"Cas?" Dean asked, shock setting into his system."Hello, Dean." Castiel said, a ghost of a smile making his lips twitch up at the sides."But- What? How are you here? I mean, Heaven and- and-"The Angel huffed a small laugh. "I know; I'm sure it's quite the surprise. However, some order has been restored. I guess you could say that my being back is a 'test run'." Cas told him and – God - Dean had even missed the stupid air quotes he made around stuff. "And I never had opportunity to tell you but..." And Cas smiled fully now. "Dean Winchester, I find myself unable to deny any longer that I... that I lov-"
"Dean? Are you up?" Sam's voice filtered into Dean's mind and tore him from his dream; the scraps of it falling away until all he could see with his closed eyes was a gummy smile and bright blue eyes that he'd never see again.
"I am now, bitch." the older brother grumbled and could almost hear Sam rolling his eyes. "What do you want?"
"A circuit's blown so there's no power in some parts of the Bunker, me and Charlie are gonna go get a new one and do a quick supply run; d'you need anything?"
A number of things ran through Dean's head: brain bleach, more whiskey, something to make him sleep dreamless-ly... more alcohol of any kind, just as long as it was strong.
"Nah, I'm good." Dean called back, grabbing his discarded jeans and pulling them on before going to hunt down a clean(-ish) T-shirt. Maybe he should do his laundry today, he hadn't done it in... no, he didn't have a clue. He didn't even know what date it was for sure. He was pretty sure it was late November, though.
Sam hesitated before talking again, his voice quieter now. "Good in general or just good good?"
The older brother straightened up from where he'd been pulling a shirt from one of the drawers and opened the door to find Sam looking like an imploring puppy.
Dean sighed and braced himself for another repetitive conversation. "Sam, I'm good. Everything's good; nobody's currently trying to destroy the world, the shit going on is relatively normal shit for us so yeah, I'm 'good'. I'm fan-freaking-tastic."
Sam looked as if he was going to say something but he stopped himself and bit his lip a little. He eventually came out with "It'll get better, Dean; things will be good, great even." before walking off, presumably to find Charlie and the impala keys, that were now often found in the kitchen with the keys to the other vehicles in the garage.
Knowing he'd never get back to sleep now, Dean made his way out of his room in search of some strong coffee, a quick breakfast and a Star Trek marathon to bury everything under.
Kevin was pouring himself a cup of coffee when the elder Winchester reached the kitchen.
"Mornin'." Dean almost grunted and got a vague noise of recognition and a nod in return.
Kevin filled a second mug and offered it to Dean who murmured his thanks.
Over the summer, Kevin had started looking at college places again but was still helping them translate and sort Men of Letters files until he made a final decision.
As Dean placed a couple of rounds of bread in the toaster - and then going in search of glorious bacon - he asked the Prophet where Garth was.
Kevin looked over his shoulder as if by simply saying the other hunter's he would appear as if summoned.
"I think he mentioned tai chi and going to 'embrace the morning' or something; either way he left before you got up and hasn't been back since." Kevin said, staring blearily into his coffee.
Dean huffed a laugh. "I will never understand morning people; him and Sam are a species of their own." the elder hunter said to which Kevin 'hmm'd his agreement. "D'you want any of this?"
The younger man glanced up but shook his head; Dean was starting to think that Kevin simply lived on coffee these days.
They were silent again until Dean sat down with his (now second) cup of coffee and his breakfast and that was when Kevin looked up to meet his gaze; his eyes seemed to be permanently blood-shot now with dark bags underneath them to match his dark hair.
"I'm sorry I haven't found a way to bring them back, Dean." he told the older hunter quietly, eyes darting back to the mug he held in his hands.
Dean simply sat and stared for a moment. "W- What?" was what he eventually managed to stutter out.
"Sam said to look to see if there was a way to open the gates again." Kevin told him as if it were obvious and then his eyes narrowed. "Didn't he tell you?"
Dean pushed away his half-eaten breakfast, his lips narrowing into a thin line. "No; that little bitch hasn't said a thing." he growled, standing up with the full intention of murdering, or at least seriously harming, his younger brother.
Before he could move, however, Kevin grabbed his arm, almost glaring himself. "Don't, Dean; he was only trying to help and I wish I hadn't mentioned it now, but just... don't. He was only trying to look out for you."
"'Look out for me'?" Dean scoffed. "Jesus, why is everyone acting like I'm some stupid teenag-"
"We're not, Dean." Kevin cut him off before sighing. "We just have eyes. It's just that... I don't know, you seem to be in some extended period of mourning. It's not healthy."
"My whole damn life isn't healthy, Kev! Whether I drink, eat, go out, whatever; I'm probably gonna die on the job in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere, just off of highway Who-Gives-A-Damn."
"Dean..."
"No, Kev. Just save it... Please." He took his arm from out of the Prophet's weakening grip and went down to the gun range, in hopes of wearing out his... Anger? Annoyance? No... His regret.
Once again, one thought circled his mind and seemed sharper than any of the gun shots: You should have just told Cas, you coward.
~x~x~x~
Winter rolled around again and most of the Bunker's occupants found themselves bundling up in multiple hoodies and/or blankets due to the heating system in the Bunker being old and not overly efficient.
(When Dean claimed he was going to spend all day underneath a warm shower, Sam had pulled a bitchface and griped 'No, Dean, if there's no hot water for the rest of us, I'll fill your bed with snow, so help me God.')
Jody and Donna came to stay for a few days over Christmas, bringing with them a Christmas tree and decorations, although Jody claimed it was all Donna's idea.
Donna was relatively new to the whole holy crap, that thing real gig but she seemed to be doing alright. Originally, they had helped her with a hunt of a Pishtaco in February (although she had never known what was actually going on); at a Sheriff Conference later in the year, she had helped Jody with a small vampire problem and that made her awesome in Dean's book, especially how well she handled finding out about the supernatural. Also, she had brought them cinnamon doughnuts for Christmas, scoring her even more points with the older Winchester.
As they sat watching Home Alone 2, as per Charlie's insistence, Dean couldn't help but notice his makeshift family had grown again.
He was sat in an armchair, Charlie on a bright purple beanbag to his left, Sam and Kevin were lounging across the floor in front of the sofa where Donna and Jody were sharing popcorn (Dean still marvelled a little at how two women so opposite could be such good friends) while Garth was snoring lightly from where he lay sprawled across the other sofa.
However, as Dean looked around he couldn't help but notice people missing. Like Rufus and Bobby who should have been there arguing about something or other in the corner; Ellen and Jo who would have gotten along so well with everyone; Pamela probably would have made it her mission to flirt with Kevin so much he exploded. Ash would have loved the library but 'hey, would it kill you to computeraise this stuff?'.
And Cas.
Cas should have been there, drinking hot chocolate and asking things like 'Dean, it's already hot chocolate, why does it need chocolate sprinkles as well?' or 'I don't understand how that is possible, Dean. Surely the hotel staff would seen through his deceit?' along with that head tilt as he watched the film.
Whatever he was doing, though, Dean couldn't help but hope that he was okay and he quickly prayed to the Angel to wish him a Happy Christmas.
A/N: Merry Christmas!
As you can probably tell, this fic is inspired by the song 'Fast Car' by Tracy Chapman. Anyway, there are two more parts to come so I won't leave you on such a sad note.
As ever, thank you to my brilliant beta infinitejellybean who puts up with my insane spelling/grammar and manages to make my work readable.
This is also posting on my AO3 under the same name.
My tumblr is bakura-reads-yaoi, come say hi!