One Without the Other
Dean's breathing was quick and shallow as he knelt down beside his brother. He shut his eyes tight, bowed his head, and prayed, screaming the words in his mind as loud as he could without making a sound.
CastielINeedYouRightNow. SomethingIsn'tRight. GetYourFeatheryAssDownHereNOW.
Dean opened his eyes and looked up. No Cas. He looked over his shoulder, remembering how Castiel usually appeared behind him. Castiel was nowhere in sight. He looked back down at Sam's unconscious body.
"Sam, everything's gonna be okay, just wake up Sammy," Dean grabbed Sam's shoulders and shook him. "Sam. Sammy!"
His stomach didn't feel right, and he started to feel nauseous. Dean let go of his brother and stood up, looking towards the sky. "CASTIEL! CAAAAASSS!"
He screamed the angel's name louder than he'd ever screamed before, and pain shot through his throat and lungs. And yet, it felt better than what the rest of his body was feeling right now, as his brother lay lifelessly by his feet. Now his eyes were burning too; they stung and he could feel pressure building up, until the tears finally released themselves and made wet streaks through dried blood and dirt on his cheeks. He knelt back down.
"Everything's gonna be fine, Sam," he said out loud. "Castiel will come and he'll heal you and you'll be as good as new, you won't even feel a thing."
A single tear made it through all the dirt on his cheek, and dropped off the edge of his jaw onto the dusty ground. Dean's head and face felt hot, like it was burning slowly from the inside. He picked up Sam's limp hand and held it in his, feeling his brother's cool skin. He squeezed his little brother's hand as if to warm it up, to ward off the colder temperature he usually associated with dead bodies.
"Sammy," his throat felt painful as he said it, letting Sam's hand flop back to the ground as he tapped Sam's cheek with his hand a few times, attempting to wake him. Sam didn't respond; his head rolled to the side, moved by Dean's hand. Dean pressed two fingers to Sam's throat and paused his own breathing so he could focus on feeling for a pulse. A few seconds felt like a few hours, and he shut his eyes tight to block everything out, hoping to feel something, even something small would have meant everything to him.
He felt nothing, and he'd held his breath too long. He resumed his rapid shallow breaths, faster this time, feeling like he might throw up.
Suddenly, he heard a familiar sound. He stood up quickly and saw the angel Castiel standing on the other side of Sam. The angel was looking down at Sam.
"Cas," Dean said, his voice raspy.
Castiel looked up and met Dean's eyes with his blue ones. Castiel looked at him with a sad expression on his face. Dean looked back, his eyes desperate. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but Castiel interrupted by squatting down to get closer to Sam. He reached his hand out and gently pressed it to Sam's chest. Dean watched carefully, waiting to see if his brother would move. He looked to Castiel's face for hints, but Cas was concentrated on what he was doing. Suddenly, Cas looked up at Dean.
"I'm so sorry, Dean."
Castiel slowly stood up and looked down at his shoes.
"No," Dean stated. "You can bring him back. Like you brought me back."
He swallowed, trying to hold back a second wave of tears from spilling. "I know you can. You have to do something."
Castiel kept staring downwards.
"Cas?"
The angel didn't respond.
"Cas!" Dean yelled, and the pain is his throat peaked to unbearable levels. The pain was too much, all of it. His voice hurt from shouting, his eyes hurt from crying, his stomach hurt, his head was spinning. When he looked at Castiel, his last hope, just standing there, everything hurt at once, and he felt like something vital had just been ripped from his body. Something he couldn't live without.
Dean collapsed then, his will had left him and the energy needed to keep himself standing was too great. He fell to the ground, his knees hitting the floor hard. He leaned forward and touched his forehead to his brother's body, grabbing Sam's shirt in his fists.
He closed his eyes tightly and tears spilt onto his dead brother's shirt. "Sam," he cried, breathing in his scent, which was mixed with the smell of blood and dust.
"Sam," he whispered, as he let go of his denial. Sammy wasn't going to be okay. Dean knew that, and he broke down, sobbing into his brother's shirt. The shirt, which was stained and torn, soaked up Dean's tears and rubbed some of the dirt off his face. Sam's body offered Dean no warmth as Dean pressed his face into it, trying to feel his brother's essence.
Dean lifted his head a little, then wrapped his arms around his brother's body, and pulled it close to his own. Sam's head dropped onto Dean's shoulder, and he fought to get the dead weight into a comfortable position on himself. He held on tight, hugging Sam's body. He tried to wrap himself as best he could around his brother, but no amount of love or warmth could bring him back.
Castiel watched as Dean held his brother's body and cried into his shoulder. Cas didn't know whether to comfort him, or look away and give him privacy. Although he had spent a lot of time with the Winchesters, he still had some trouble understanding human emotion, especially emotion as strong as this. He began to feel sick inside, which confused him since his vessel was in perfect physical health. He remembered the time he spent without his grace, how certain emotions could cause physical sensations, and he realized that the sick feeling came from what he was seeing in front of him: his best friend, Dean Winchester, hugging his brother's body one last time. Castiel had just lost one of his closest friends, Sam, and that hurt, but even more painful was the sight of Dean, still alive, suffering the greatest loss of all. Castiel stepped forward cautiously, then slowly placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. He felt Dean shake, from his sobs.
Dean gripped tighter, and dug his fingers into Sam's back, trying to pull him closer. He knew he'd have to let go soon, and that once he did, he'd never get a chance to embrace Sam again. This was the last time he'd get to hug Sam, and Dean wasn't ready to let go. He felt his brother's heavy head against his shoulder, his brother's long brown hair sticking to his cheek, wet with tears. He breathed in, trying to get as much of Sam's scent in as possible, but the smell of blood was starting to overpower it as the last of Sam's blood leaked out and stained the front of Dean's shirt and jeans.
This can't be happening, he was supposed to outlive me, Dean thought to himself, but he knew things weren't always the way they should be. Slowly, he pulled away and laid Sam back down onto the ground. He picked up Sam's hand one last time, and held the back of his brother's hand to his lips.
"Rest now, Sammy," he whispered, and placed a gentle kiss on Sam's knuckles, before setting it back down. He let go and stood up, turning around to face Castiel.
Castiel looked into Dean's eyes, trying to figure out how to best help the situation.
"Dean?" Castiel said tentatively, worried about Dean's mental state. He didn't want to say anything to further upset or agitate him.
Dean stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Cas in a loose hug. Castiel was surprised, but after a second, he hugged back, and patted Dean's back reassuringly. Sam's blood squelched between their bodies, but neither Cas nor Dean took notice, instead, they stood there together for a few minutes in complete silence, neither one wanting to move or speak first.
Castiel was the first to bring his arms down, and Dean quickly took a step back, not wanting to hold on longer than Cas and appear clingy. He wiped his eyes and face, and averted his eyes so Castiel wouldn't see the redness he was sure was visible.
"So, um. What now?" Dean asked. He'd dealt with dead bodies before, he knew what came next, but he couldn't think right now, and he was going to have to rely on Cas to take charge.
Castiel knew Dean needed him now more than ever. He had to stay strong and help Dean deal with Sam's body.
"I can take us someplace else… quickly, where we can burn the body. If you want, I can call Charlie. If you think she should be present."
Dean nodded. "You can zap us there?"
"Yes," Castiel said. He knew Dean usually hated being teleported places, it made him nauseous, but he didn't think now was the time to ask about that. Dean probably didn't want to have to go through moving the body by hand.
Castiel placed one hand on Dean's shoulder, and he half-bent down to place the other hand on Sam's, and suddenly, there were in a clearing in some forresty area.
"Do you want Charlie here? I can go-"
"No," Dean interrupted. "Not right now. We need wood."
Castiel knew better than to ask again. He opened his wings, which were not visible to Dean at the moment, and flew off to retrieve the wood they needed. When he got back, he helped assemble the logs in the typical hunter's funeral pyre. It was all happening very fast for Castiel, but the assembly took some time. He could have easily done it himself much quicker, but he knew Dean wanted to take the time to do it with his hands. Neither of them were in a rush to finish because of what they knew came next.
By sundown, Sam's body was burning on the pyre; it was a traditional hunter's funeral. Dean and Cas stood nearby, their faces warmed by the flames as the sky got darker and the air got colder. Dean shivered as the cold seeped through his jacket, but inside he felt numb.
Castiel wasn't bothered by the cold temperatures, but he paid close attention to Dean, not wanting his human friend to freeze. He stepped closer to the fire, hoping Dean would follow, but Dean stayed back. The flames were too hot for him, and he didn't feel like moving. He stared into the bright fire that consumed his brother's body, his mind feeling blank, his body feeling empty and cold. He stayed like that, unmoving, until the sky had gone completely dark, and the fire had died down quite a bit. Castiel looked up and noticed how bright the stars were, compared to other times where he had watched the sky.
The air had finally gotten too cold for Dean to ignore, and he knew it was time to go home. He noticed Castiel looking up at the heavens, and wondered what the angel was thinking. He placed a hand on Cas's shoulder, and Cas turned around. Castiel didn't need Dean to ask, he knew to bring him back to the bunker so Dean to rest and warm up.
They were suddenly there, in the bunker. Castiel had taken them directly to Dean's bedroom. The sudden change confused Dean's senses, and he almost lost balance, but he had no intentions of staying up anyway, so he let himself fall onto his bed, dirty clothes and all. Castiel hesitated, unsure of what to do. He wanted to help Dean into some cleaner clothing, and perhaps take off his shoes so he could rest better, but he knew Dean would have felt uncomfortable if Castiel attempted to remove his clothing for him, so he stood there awkwardly, staring down at Dean. He eventually decided to sit at the edge of the bed and place his hand on Dean's arm. There was much he wanted to say to him. That everything would be okay, that Sam would be resting peacefully in heaven, that Cas would be there if Dean needed anything, that he wouldn't leave Dean's side unless he wanted him to, but he kept his mouth shut and hoped his hand on Dean's arm would get him the right message. Neither of them moved for quite a while, and after a few hours, Castiel noticed that Dean had fallen asleep. Castiel kept still. He wouldn't move at all that night. He wanted to be there in the same exact spot when Dean woke up, so that Dean wouldn't feel more alone than he already did from losing his brother.
The next day, Dean hit the books like nothing was different. He wouldn't talk though, and Castiel decided to keep a bit of distance between himself and Dean, so as not to bother him. For that reason, he couldn't tell what it was Dean was reading.
Cas went to the kitchen and looked through the fridge for ingredients so he could cook something for Dean. He wasn't sure what to make, or whether he could cook well enough at all, so he instead decided to zap himself to one of Dean's favorite burger joints and grab him a bacon cheeseburger, something he knew Dean would enjoy. He brought it back, and set it on the table where Dean was reading, before stepping away and sitting himself down on the couch. He sat there quietly, replaying his favorite memories of Sam in his head. Part of him wished he could have been there to stop Sam's death, but he knew the Winchesters were human, delicate, mortal. He'd saved his friends before, multiple times, but he had come to terms with the fact that they'd have to die one day, and he couldn't spend all his time hovering over their shoulders waiting to heal them if anything happened to them. He had to let them live their lives the way they chose, and accept that he had let himself get so attached to mortal beings. Joy, fear, pain, and loss were all part of what came from being close friends with humans. He knew that from the beginning, but it still hurt.
Castiel was so lost in thought that he hadn't noticed Dean get up and leave. He noticed the burger had been left untouched, and he worriedly tried to search for Dean around the bunker. It took him only a second to figure out Dean wasn't home. Cas took a quick look at the books on the table, what Dean had been reading, and it seemed most of it was Christian mythology, but also John Winchester's journal. Cas left the table and searched the garage, and saw that the Impala was missing. He wasn't sure how long he'd been lost in thought, but he didn't think Dean could have gotten too far.
Meanwhile, Dean drove the Impala down the road, and then turned onto Route 281, the highway. Lebanon, Kansas was a very small town, and soon, he only saw flat fields to his left and right, and the occasional tree or shrub. The highway stretched out ahead and disappeared into the distance. He pressed down on the accelerator, making his car pick up speed. He was going much too fast now, but that's what he wanted.
"Promised dad I'd always take care of ya," Dean muttered to himself. He reached out with his right hand and grabbed his open beer bottle and took a swig. He would have preferred something much stronger than beer, but it was too late to turn back to pick something else. The cold beverage felt tingly as it went down his throat, which was still sore from yesterday. He smiled, trying to enjoy his last cold beer. He took another sip, set the bottle down, then used his free hand to turn the stereo on. Highway to Hell blaster through the speakers, and he turned the volume up all the way. It was much too loud, but Dean wanted it that way so it would drown out everything else. He closed his eyes, then chuckled as the song played its chorus. He was on a highway, and he could literally be going to hell right now, although he hoped it would be the other place. Or wherever Sammy was at.
The loud music, the taste of beer, and the hum of the Impala, his baby, were the last things he felt, as the car slowly veered off the road, then smashed forcefully into the trunk of a tree. Dean was killed on impact.
Castiel arrived just as the car crashed. For a split second, he wondered if he could zap himself to the passenger seat and take the steering wheel to avoid the tree, but it was much too close, and he wouldn't be able to make a difference. It was done. Dean did what he did and Cas couldn't do a thing to change it, he was too late. He moved closer to the car to get a better look. Dean's death was more bloody than Sam's, he noted. Quicker, too. The impact had immediately squashed Dean's insides, shattering his bones and squishing his organs. It was a bloody, gory sight, and this was the man who had become Castiel's best friend, his first real friend, but somehow, he didn't feel the same sick feeling he had felt when he first saw Sam Winchester dead on the ground with Dean crouched over him.
It's because he isn't suffering anymore. That must be it, Cas thought. They're both resting now, in heaven.
It wasn't the first time Sam had died, but Dean knew this time, it was final. He hoped his own suicide would be successful, and that it would be final as well. It was time to retire. Time to rest, and not have to worry constantly about the well-being of his brother. Before, he had willed to live, but he had learned over the years that he couldn't be very useful as a hunter without his brother around. So that was it, he had to retire. But he couldn't leave Sammy alone.
After some time had passed, Dean realized he was back at the bunker. It was just as he had left it, but on the table, instead of the books he had left there, there were magazines. He picked one up and looked at the cover, then smiled. It was a copy of Busty Asian Beauties.
Dean caught a whiff of something delicious. He set the magazine down and lifted his nose in the air, sniffing. He followed his nose all the way to the kitchen. He saw no food lying about, but he could still smell it, and it smelled fresh. He walked over to the oven and opened its door. There sat a warm, fresh, whole apple pie. Dean grinned, and reached in, pulling the pie out. He sat it down on the counter and pulled out a knife and plate. He cut into the pie, the lifted a giant slice onto the place. He opened a drawer and took out a fork, which he stabbed into the tip of the pie. He lifted the fork and inhaled the wonderful scent, then opened his mouth to take a bite.
Then he remembered something. He set the fork down and pushed the pie aside. He longed to taste it, but there was one thing he longed for even more.
Dean scanned the kitchen, looking for anything that was out of place. He noticed one of the doors to one of the lower storage areas, where they kept miscellaneous utensils, was slightly crooked. He walked over and opened the door, but instead of seeing shelves behind it, he saw a bright light. He squinted, giving his eyes a moment to adjust. The door had grown to become a full sized door, and he walked through it. He could see clearly now, and he noticed he was in a long hallway lined with many doors, each with a name on it. The door he had walked through had his own name, Dean Winchester. Dean walked down the hallway briskly, looking from side to side, reading the names off the doors. An alarm sounded, and he could hear someone coming. He quickened his pace, now at a slow jog, until he stopped abruptly when he found the door he was looking for. He pulled it open, stepped in, then slammed the door shut behind him. The light was dimmer again now that he was out of the hallway. When his eyes readjusted, he saw Sam standing there, looking shocked.
"Dean?" Sam asked, surprised. Dean couldn't tell if Sam's look of surprise was of good surprise or bad surprise.
Dean ignored Sam's shock and rushed to him, enveloping his younger brother in a tight bear hug. Sam hugged back, a bit more slowly, still in shock. He then pulled away, but kept his hands on Dean's shoulders.
"Dean! Oh my god! Wh- what are you doing here?"
Dean couldn't stop himself from grinning as he looked as his brother. "It doesn't matter, Sammy. I'm here."
He pulled Sam back into a hug. Sam, still confused, pulled away again.
"Dean! Why are you here? Are you dead?"
Dean sighed. "Yeah, Sammy, I'm dead, okay? Now, can we not talk about it?"
Sam frowned.
"Oh, what, you're not happy to see me?" Dean pretended to be offended. "Well, if that's how you feel, I'll go back to my own personal heaven and live there alone for the rest of eternity."
"Dean. I'm always happy to see you," Sam explained. "Just not here. In heaven. Dead. I was hoping you'd keep on living for a while longer. But since you clearly aren't anymore… Well then I'm glad you're here with me."
Sam pulled Dean in and hugged him tight. Dean closed his eyes, and remembered how not too long ago, he was holding Sam's dead body, thinking he'd never be able to feel his brother close to him again. Now he was back in Sam's embrace, and Sam was even hugging back this time. They were dead, and Dean was afraid he'd get sent back to his own heaven if they were caught, but he took the opportunity to savor the moment and forget everything else, feel his brother in his arms again, even if it was just one more time.