This remains a hugely transparent excuse for me to make Dean talk about his feelings. Sorry I'm not sorry?
/
Dean was jerked abruptly into wakefulness by the tinny sounds of Bon Jovi coming from his jeans pocket. He groaned as he fumbled at the phone and lifted his head from the table.
He glared at the screen but his frown softened when he saw Charlie's name and he raised it to his ear. "Who calls at this hour of the morning for a chat," he grumbled.
"Hi to you too, Dean!" Charlie said cheerfully. "I'll leave you to your beauty sleep soon, I just wanted to check in and see if you knew anything about the mysterious shooting stars which have been confusing meteorologists the world over. Apparently one of them burned a hole through the roof of the White House but when they tried to investigate the security breach they couldn't find any trace of rock or metal. I figured something that freaky, you guys would probably know what was going on."
"Yeah, that would be tens of thousands of angels crashing to earth. Heaven is now population zero as far as we're aware," Dean said. "We're hoping this at least means there's no chance of them restarting the apocalypse any more."
"Wow," Charlie says, dragging the word out quietly. "Angels here on earth. Wow."
"Yeah, I doubt they'll live up to the hype but we can hope that they'll at least stay quiet for a while." Dean swung open the door to his room and flicked the switch, greeted by the familiar array of keepsakes and weapons.
"And you're still here! I'm just glad you guys made it through this," Charlie said, affection and relief clear in her voice. "I was worried about you."
"No way they're gonna drag me and Sam off this world without us kicking up a fuss," Dean said. "I'm glad it went down this way. I'm glad Sammy didn't-" He fell silent, grimly contemplative.
"Didn't what, Dean?" Charlie said cautiously.
"Didn't go through with it," Dean muttered. "Because if he had, only one of us would've made it through this alive." There was a quiet indraw of breath on the other side, then silence, but Dean felt that it was an open silence, where he could share as much as he wished to. He felt a slight loosening in his chest. The words had been rising higher and higher lately, threatening to bust out where once he had them on lockdown, hidden behind some wall whose existence he'd barely even acknowledged. It was a relief to know that he could reveal his fears without being judged and deemed weak, a fool, but demolishing his coping mechanisms had brought complications too. Acknowledging your feelings brought a lot of realisations, most of them uncomfortable, as it turned out.
"Dean?" Charlie said tentatively.
"Yeah," he said slowly. "Yeah, I should've known from the beginning but I guess I'm still good at pretending when it comes to Sammy." He settled back on the bed. "So hell's still open for business, and he's still walking and talking. And I'm still here complaining," he said finally with more lightness in his tone. "Tell me how you've been, huh."
"Well," Charlie said wryly," I've received a missive from a certain someone living on another plane of existence."
"Gilda?" Dean said in surprise.
"Yup! Apparently she's been trying to contact me for months. She said she's figured out a ritual to transport me to her realm, where I can live forever in the fairy palace."
"Sounds like a sweet deal."
"It's tempting, but I've been thinking that I might miss good old Earth, since I've finally found a place I maybe fit in."
"You know you're always welcome here," Dean said roughly. "Unless I text you that something bad's going down, then you stay the hell away from us."
"Message recieved, Dean wants his alone time," Charlie laughed. "Catch you on the flip side, Winchester."
"Speak soon, Charlie. Take care of yourself," he said, and smiled into the phone for a couple of seconds before he heard the beep and placed it down, sinking back onto the mattress and rubbing his eyes.