Benny glanced at Dean, fists on his hips. "On which did you say you lived now?" he asked.
"Fourth," Dean answered, looking at the storage box containing all his furniture in front of them.
"How many of your friends are gonna help us?"
"None."
"Right…"
"Thanks Benny."
"Always happy to help, brother."
Benny went back and drove his pick-up at the closest from the storage unit as possible, while Dean started to unstack all the cardboard boxes. After only thirty minutes, the car was packed and they were ready to drive to Dean's apartment.
They soon realized the amount of stuff in the storage unit was actually easy to move, for the exception of Dean's bed frame, mattress and couch. Most of the boxes were half-empty and filled with clothes. Some contained a few books, some photo albums, vinyl records and CDs. Nothing fancy. They even found an old CRT television that Dean decided to keep in case it still worked.
Dean walked to the passenger side while Benny took the seat behind the wheel. Once Dean locked his safety belt, Benny started the pick-up and they began their drive back to Chicago.
It took them about two hours to reach Dean's apartment. Luckily, they found a parking spot not far which allowed them to unload and put everything down at the bottom of the stairs. An old lady gave them the stink-eye when she tried to reach for the stairs, walking between all of Dean's boxes with some difficulties. Of course, Benny and Dean hurried to help her out and she eventually thanked them then climbed slowly to her apartment.
Carrying the cardboard boxes was easy and the task completed in a short amount of time. However with the bed frame and the couch, they had to come up with a solution to manage to get them around the stairs corners. It took several attempts but they finally reached the fourth floor. The bed frame and mattress were immediately installed in Dean's bedroom, the couch went against the wall in the living room, the television was placed on top of a cardboard box as there was no cabinet in the furniture. The vinyl record player was immediately plugged next to a window, on the right side of the couch so it would be easily accessible.
As soon as most of the boxes were emptied, Benny and Dean sat down on the couch, a beer in hand, proud of their achievement of the day.
"Thanks buddy," Dean said after gulping down half of his beer. "I never would have managed this without you!"
"You know you'll owe me now, brother," Benny commented with a smirk, looking at Dean.
"Course! You name it!"
"Once you're reintegrated, I want a full dinner, hamburger, beer and dessert. The whole nine yards!"
Dean let out a laugh. "You got it!" He clinked his bottle to Benny's. "Might take a while though."
"I wouldn't be so sure," Benny replied, leaning a bit towards Dean. "You might join sooner than you think."
"What? You got some info and didn't tell me?"
Benny let out a laugh that sounded like a growl. "No, of course not. It's just a gut feeling."
"Well then… if that isn't a 100% trusted source, I don't know what is!" Dean retorted with a wink.
"You'll see! You'll tell me and you know what I'm gonna say?"
"Told you so?" Dean guessed.
"Told you so! Exactly! That's all a little prick like you deserves!" Benny burst out laughing, immediately followed by Dean.
"If you're right, then yeah, I deserved it!" Dean replied, a huge smile on his lips. "How about we make a bet. I say I won't reintegrate before… errr… two month or more!"
"Okay. And I say one month. No, make it three weeks, tops!"
"So what, three weeks or less?"
"Yep!" Benny confirmed. He held out his hand. "And if I win, dinner again."
"Okay! And if I win, dinner and you'll help me buy a new couch," Dean counteroffered.
"Hey, that's not fair! Then I want… errr… dinner and a movie. Deal?" Benny suggested.
"Dinner and movie versus diner and couch shopping. Deal!" Dean agreed, his eyes sparkling as they clinked their bottles.
They drank a few gulps before sitting back a bit more comfortably, looking at the small television in front of them.
"Your couch sure is ugly," Benny commented after a while.
"Horrible," Dean agreed. "But comfy."
"Yeah, comfy." He repeated. "Seriously, what got through your mind to buy something with so many shitty colors?!" he wondered.
Dean let out a loud laugh. "It was my grand-dad's. My parents had kept it in their basement for whatever reason, and I got it when I moved to Chicago for the Academy training. It's a pull-out and the bed is actually really soft. I had some nice time on it too with some ladies from the Academy!"
"Okay brother! Stop right there, too much information!"
"Like you don't tell me what's going on between you and Andrea!" Dean countered.
"Not everything!" Benny shot back. "Not the sex life!"
Dean gave him a sideways glance.
"Not everything!" Benny corrected.
"Sure…" Dean said sarcastically, making his friend laugh.
"Speaking of whom…" he finished his beer in one sip. "I better head back home before sunset. I promised I'd help her with the garden today."
"You better hurry then."
Benny nodded. He got up and went to put his empty beer in the kitchen sink. He took his jacket he had left on Dean's bed then reached the front door where Dean was waiting for him.
"Thanks again, Benny. Have I ever told you you're a lifesaver?"
"Many times, brother. But keep going!"
They chuckled and Dean pulled Benny in a bear crushing hug before letting him go. Benny waved at him, put his hat on and left.
(***)
That Wednesday, Dean just couldn't wait to talk to not-Doctor Castiel Novak. There were so many things that had happened lately, he wanted to share the good news with him, knowing for sure that he would be happy for him if not even proud.
Thanks to Benny who dropped by at his apartment early morning, he got his beloved car back. A black Chevrolet Impala from 1967 which he entrusted Benny for the time of his assignment. After a bit of administrative paperwork, his car was legally his again and it was with happiness that he drove to Castiel's office a little earlier than usual. He found a good parking spot nearby, locked his car and hurried to the office.
As soon as he entered, he felt something was not right. The secretary looked at him, clearly surprised to see him that early.
"Mr. Winchester, you were not expected for another thirty minutes," she commented. "Please have a seat," she said, pointing to the black leather chair next to her, the one Benny usually sat on.
Dean greeted her and took place in front of her desk.
"I would have to ask you to sit here," she indicated. As Dean refused and told her he was very comfortable where he was, thank you very much, she had to explain. "For privacy reasons, I really have to insist and ask you to sit right here or leave the office and come back in thirty minutes."
Dean's first reaction was to laugh her off, but he noticed her tone and serious expression so he obliged. He got up and went to sit where she indicated him. He did not like the spot at all. The secretary's desk hid his view to Castiel's office and the exit door, whereas his previous seat provided him with a perfect panorama to both. Deciding to be on his best behavior, he remained seated and waited patiently.
After maybe five minutes, he started to hear muffled screams coming from Castiel's office. He shuffled on his seat and looked at the secretary.
"Don't worry," she told him when she noticed his agitation. "It will be over soon." Then she resumed her activities.
He nodded and sat a bit more comfortably on the chair. He still felt a bit uneasy, wondering what was happening behind those walls and hoping Castiel was alright. He still wasn't sure what Castiel's business was but he surely didn't do anything to deserve being shouted at.
He needed to take his mind off the voice, especially because he couldn't do anything and couldn't hear anything. The secretary would do.
"I never asked your name, sweetheart," he told her with the patented Winchester smile. "What can I call you?"
She slowly turned her head to look at him, one perfectly shaped eyebrow raised and unimpressed look on her face.
"That's because I never told you," she shot back with a cold-calm voice. "But if your alpha-male ego wants to know, you can call me Miss. That'll do."
Well, it has been a while since Dean got shut down like this. Instead of feeling insulted, he chuckled.
"Alright Miss," he said. "Nice to meet you!" he countered.
"Of course it is," she replied and turned back to face her computer, which made Dean laugh harder.
"So, what's happening in there?" he asked. "Some douchebag customer or something?"
"Something like that," she admitted with a smirk. "But he's nothing Mr. Novak can't handle."
"He's something, right?! Mr. Novak I mean."
"Yes he is," she confirmed with a small nod.
"But what's his deal?" he asked. "Does he have a special PhD or something to do whatever he does?" he clarified as the secretary shot him an interrogative glance.
"He didn't explain to you? At your first session?" she wondered, brows slightly raised.
Dean opened his mouth but immediately shut it. How could he explain that he behaved like a total dick at that time? And that he didn't even give Castiel the opportunity to talk or explain anything? He clenched his jaw, trying to find something to say.
At that very instant, Castiel's office door burst open and someone came out. Dean couldn't see the person, hidden by the desk. He kept still.
"If you had a hint of common sense, you would pick the right choice, Castiel Novak!" Dean heard a man shout. "You will hear from me, and sooner than you think!" He then left the office, furiously banging the door as he exited.
Dean heard a loud sigh coming from Castiel's office.
"That went well," he heard Castiel comment, apparently approaching his secretary.
"Could have been worse," Miss replied. "By the way, Mr. Winchester is already in," she indicated with a hand gesture.
Castiel circled the massive desk and spotted Dean.
"Hello Dean," he said with a smile. "You're a bit early."
"Is that a problem?" Dean asked as he stood up.
"No, of course not. Please come on in."
"Are you sure? I can wait a bit if you want, so you can relax after having to deal with that douchebag."
Castiel grinned a little. "I've had worse."
Dean couldn't hide his surprise, shooting his eyebrows up, then complied. "Okay then. Let's go!"
He smiled at the secretary then entered Castiel's office and sat down in his usual chair. Castiel took a few seconds to arrange his desk and pull out Dean's notebook and file.
"How are you today?" he asked.
"Great!" Dean answered. "Many things happened this week."
"Please, tell me all about it." He said, preparing to take notes.
"I don't even know where to start!" Dean laughed. He remained silent for a second, thinking about his next sentence when he felt Castiel's gaze on him. He locked eyes with him, his smile slightly moving to a grin.
He should tell the not-Doctor to stop staring like this, it was intimidating. Especially with such blue piercing eyes. He must be quite popular amongst the ladies, being well-built and having such beautiful eyes and… was that stubble, Dean noticed. Since when did Castiel have a stubble? Or did he always have it and Dean never realized before? Well it was a nice stubble, according to Dean's standards. It fit him quite well, contouring his mouth and lips, which also looked quite good.
Dean frowned. When on earth did his almost-shrink get a handsome face? Dean admitted he looked a bit tired and had dark circles but that gave him something Dean couldn't identify, a little je ne sais quoi that made him good looking. Dean thought about the term "hot" but really, that would cross a line with his not-therapist he obviously did not want to cross. Dean's eyes travelled back from the stubble to his bright blue eyes. Maybe "gorgeous" would apply, he thought. Wait… what was he thinking about? What was he supposed to talk about?
"Dean?"
And that damn deep voice!
"Yes Cas?" he blurted out.
"About your week?" Castiel said gently, noticing Dean was lost in his thoughts.
"Yeah! My week! Haha!" Dean sputtered, feeling heat spreading on his cheeks. "I got my Baby back this morning!"
"Your baby?" Castiel questioned, frowning deeply. He spread his right arm and caught a big yellow folder. He opened it on his knees and started browsing the papers in it. "I was not aware you had a child…" he mumbled.
"What?!" Dean almost squealed. "No! Not a kid! My car!"
"Your car?"
"Yeah, my car! I call her Baby!" Dean burst out laughing. "For God's sake, I don't have a kid, I'd be a terrible dad!"
"Hum… right… that was surprising…" Castiel commented while rearranging the folder and putting it back on his desk. "I thought my information was flawed."
"Nah," Dean dismissed. "I was just talking about my car. I have this '67 Chevy Impala and let me tell you, she's the best and most beautiful car ever! 327 four barrel, 275 horses, this thing is over forty and still badass!"
Castiel looked pleased at Dean's enthusiasm. He nodded and wrote all information down. "Keep going," he told Dean when he stopped talking to let Castiel take notes.
"I got the car from my Dad, when I graduated high school at eighteen. He told me that was my first step to becoming a man. He also gave me my first beer."
"Was it really your first beer?" Castiel asked, looking straight at Dean.
"Of course not!" he smirked. "I had to make a face to make him believe it was my first try!"
Castiel grinned. "That's what I thought," he admitted, still staring.
"Aren't you gonna write that down?" Dean asked.
"Your first beer experience is not relevant to your post-assignment life," Castiel explained. "However if you feel that it is necessary, I can take note."
"What are you going to do with all the stuff you write? Publish a book? And call it something like "The thrilling life of Dean?" or maybe "My life in a mob?" or "How to not reintegrate civilian society?"" Dean teased.
Castiel shook his head. "Nothing of the sort," he clarified "but I will keep them as archive."
"In case my reintegration goes south and you need to cover your ass?" Dean guessed.
"Dean, that's not-"
"No worries Cas, I get it. Just do your job."
Castiel seemed to want to argue but instead of protesting, he just frowned a little and looked down at the notebook.
"So my Dad gave me the Impala," Dean resumed as if nothing had happened. "Told me to take care of it. I knew I had to, otherwise he'd tear me a new one." His laugh came out a bit sad. "The car helped me to get jobs, which helped to pay bills and get Sammy through college." He lost himself in past memories. "But I had to get rid of everything that belonged to me, so I left Baby with Benny, who registered it under an alias and kept it in a garage. He brought it back this morning and we could make all the papers. I'm officially the owner again!" he cheered.
"Congratulations," Castiel commented with a little smile.
As soon as Castiel pronounced the word, Dean felt the shift in the atmosphere. When he had entered the room, it was all nice and casual. Now it felt colder and more professional. Dean knew it was his fault and blamed his big damn mouth. One day he'll learn to think before speaking.
"Thank you," he replied gently, "but you have to wait for the other great news."
He waited a few seconds, under Castiel's scrutiny.
"Since Monday, I have my own place!" he finally blurted. "But that's not even the best part. I called my brother and he said he'll try to fly over for a weekend!"
Just the thought of seeing Sam again made Dean ecstatic. Of course their conversation had its ups and downs but what Dean clung to was what Sam had told him: he would try to catch a red eye flight to meet him in Chicago in less than two weeks.
"This is really great, Dean," Castiel congratulated him again. "I am really glad to hear that."
"Thank you, Cas," Dean replied shyly, feeling Castiel's warmth again.
"Tell me all about it. What are your plans?" he asked.
He smiled, happy Castiel showed signs of interest. He felt light headed. Suddenly, he couldn't hold it any longer and told him about his conversation with Sam, how he found the apartment, how Benny helped him move his stuff, what he planned to do while Sam's here, how he hesitated to buy a better couch despite this one being so comfortable but ugly, what he wanted to cook, how he desperately wanted to meet Sam's girlfriend, how he wanted to make it up to him for not being there while his engagement broke off, then told Castiel about the first conversation they had, giving more details.
When Dean finally stopped talking, almost an hour had passed. Castiel, who usually ended their session after thirty minutes, had let him speak for so long. Dean felt a bit ridiculous, being a real Chatty Cathy. However, Castiel seemed satisfied with the session and strangely again, did not write everything down, sometimes focusing his full attention on Dean instead of taking notes. Dean had not commented on that anymore and was glad he learned his lesson. There was again a warm atmosphere between Castiel and him which he hoped would remain as long as he had to attend their sessions.
Castiel and Dean finally got up and shook hands. He left the office, Castiel following him closely. As soon as he reached the lobby, he waved the secretary goodbye with a wink and a small grin. Her crooked eyebrow was all the reaction he hoped for.
Feeling lighter than ever, he walked to his car and decided to go for a drive. He drove to Lake Michigan, found a nice spot near an artificially created beach, ordered a hamburger and fries from the nearby food truck, and waited for the sunset. When the sun went down, illuminating everything in a soft orange color, at that exact moment, he felt good and at peace. He knew it wouldn't last so he enjoyed it as much as possible.
(***)
The week went by very quickly for Dean. He worked many hours on the Impala, verifying this, screwing that, changing the oil, getting her back into shape. He loved every single minute of it. It also helped him to ignore some bad dreams he was having recently. Waking up screaming and drenched in sweat really wasn't a way to start the day. But thanks to Baby, he managed to ignore what these nightmares were about.
He also bought some cheap shelves for his books that went in his bedroom and a cabinet for the television. He emptied the remaining boxes and framed a few pictures of his family that he found neatly wrapped between the bigger books.
To his surprise, he received a phone call from Sam on Saturday afternoon. The conversation was very short as Sam had only a few minutes before him. He informed Dean he managed to get his Monday off as promised. He would take a flight from San Francisco the next Friday late night, at 22:30, and reach Chicago at 4:31 on Saturday morning. Dean would have to pick him up at the airport or Sam would have to take a cab. Dean insisted he would be there to meet him and drive him back to his place. Sam would stay the whole weekend and leave the next Monday late evening to reach San Francisco before midnight and catch some sleep before work.
Dean had asked if Sam would come alone or if he would join with his girlfriend. Sam told him he would come alone which gave Dean some conflicted emotions. He was happy he would get his baby brother back for him alone for three days, but was a bit disappointed he wouldn't meet his significant other because Sam, most probably, didn't trust him yet enough to meet her. But he understood and promised Sam they would have the best weekend ever.
As soon as he hung up, he started a list of all the things he needed to buy and what he needed to do before Sam's arrival, along with all the possible bars and restaurant they could go out. Unfortunately, the list of places he knew was rather short. Except for one diner, all the other locations were possible mob hideouts. As he was supposed to either be arrested by the cops like the rest of the Crowley organization or have fled somewhere, he just couldn't show his face and act as if nothing happened. He needed to ask Benny.
On the next Wednesday, Dean felt really talkative and told Castiel about almost everything he had done during the week, including the phone call with his brother. The session lasted the usual thirty minutes and Castiel almost didn't have to ask any questions as Dean happily provided.
They parted with Castiel telling Dean he was eager to hear about Sam and Dean's reunion.
(***)
Saturday arrived both fast and slow. Dean couldn't wait to see Sam again but as the days went by, he grew more and more anxious. What would happen? Will they get along fine? Castiel had tried to reassure him during their session. Benny was also very supportive. However, neither would be present during the weekend. It really was about him manning up and dealing with all the problems he caused to Sam.
He had originally planned on sleeping until 3am on Saturday morning, but when his alarm clock showed midnight, it was obvious he was so excited, thrilled and anxious he wouldn't be able to get any shut eye. He left his bed, changed the sheets with fresh ones and decided to clean his apartment which was already pristine as he had scrubbed every inch and corner since he knew Sam was coming over. He might have been stress-cleaning too. Now he just couldn't remain seated or in bed. He checked if the beers were stored in the fridge, that there was enough junk food to last a whole siege. He even bought Lucky Charms for Sam's breakfast as he remembered they were his favorite.
After a while, he just walked aimlessly in his apartment, not knowing what to do. He sat down on the couch and held his phone out. He almost called Benny but managed to stop himself before the dial got out. Benny was most certainly asleep and Dean didn't want to bother him. He then thought about Castiel. After all, it was his job to listen to Dean so he could spare five minutes of his time and… Dean's thoughts stopped as he realized he didn't have Castiel's phone number. He grumbled and decided to ask him next time they meet.
Dean finally decided to drive all the way to the airport and wait there. After all, nothing good would come out of him moping in his apartment. He grabbed his keys, his wallet, and after locking his door, ran down the stairs and got in the Impala.
He drove up to the airport, Led Zeppelin blasting out of the speakers. It was a relatively quick drive as it took him only twenty-five minutes. The traffic was really light which was expected considering it was 2am.
Once he reached the airport, he found a parking spot the furthest from any other car. He didn't want to risk a dent on Baby's door because of some douchebag. He got out and walked slowly to the airport entrance. After all, speeding up wouldn't make Sam's plane land any faster.
He looked for the Arrivals sign and, when found, followed it through corridors and different halls. It wasn't that far, a few hundred meters or so. Once he reached the door for passengers to exit, he looked around for information about Sam's flight. He found two flat screens showing the different flights approaching Chicago. There were only five planned to land in the next six hours. Sam's was on time, which was a good news. But he still had two hours to kill before he would finally be reunited with Sammy.
He remembered a Starbucks on his way over. He walked back and thankfully, the coffee shop was still open. Apparently, it was open 24/7. He walked to the cashier and smiled. The cashier seemed exhausted and didn't return Dean's smile. However, Dean didn't mind. He was in a mood for something sweet and caffeinated. After looking at the drink list, he decided for a mocha. He placed his order.
"Which size?" the cashier asked in a tired voice, eyes half-closed.
"Regular would be fine," Dean answered, taking his wallet out.
"Grande or Venti?" he replied.
"Regular?" Dean tried again, at a loss at what the young boy was saying.
"Grande or Venti?" the cashier repeated, which started to run on Dean's nerves.
"Whatever man," he grumbled. "I have no idea what you mean, I just want a drink not too big and not too small. You're talking nonsense!"
The boy gave Dean a long weary look and sighed. He indicated empty cups arranged in size from smallest to tallest. "Grande," he said while showing one, "Venti," while showing another.
Dean shook his head. When he was in the mob's owned coffee shops, ordering a simple mocha wasn't that complicated. "Grande," he answered.
The cashier nodded. "What's your name?" he asked.
"Sorry what?"
"What's your name, sir?"
"Dean," he answered, not even trying to make any sense out of this nonsense. He handed out a ten dollar bill. The cashier gave his change back.
A few minutes later, the cashier called his name and handed him the beverage.
Dean took it, refrained from making a snarky comment because the kid obviously had had enough, then walked to the exit gate. He found a seat opposite to the doors, next to the panoramic window. Just one hour forty-five minutes to kill before Sam's arrival. He took a sip but it was still way too warm to drink. He almost burned his tongue and cursed the Starbucks for making coffees so hot. Starting to get a little bored, he took his phone out and started browsing his contacts. Of course, it was way too late to call anybody, however he itched to call some of his former relations while in Crowley's organization. One person in particular. But just as he thought about her, he mentally chastised himself. All ties were cut the day the police and F.B.I. worked together and arrested all organization members. And if his nightmares were either about her or about some of his actions, then he would have to live with it. This was his life now.
Dean waited patiently for Sam's plane to land. He let his mind wander, thinking about how the weekend would go, if one day he'll gather enough courage to call his parents, what was the deal with that Castiel guy who probably was the strangest person Dean ever met. He hoped he would sign the papers soon. However he knew that having high hopes only led to disappointment.
Before Dean really realized it, the wait was almost over. A small crowd had gathered in front of the gates and chatter was getting louder by the minute. Then, a voice came out of the speakers and informed the plane had landed. Just a few more minutes before Dean would be reunited with Sam. Dean felt his heartbeat speed up. He forced himself to calm down. He drank the remaining cold drops of his mocha and went to threw it away in a nearby trash can.
The gates suddenly opened and the passengers slowly walked out. Some of them had vibrant smiles while hugging their loved ones. Others looked like businessmen and women, tired from the flight and only looking for a hotel room. Dean was now carefully watching who was coming out. He feared he wouldn't recognize his own brother. How much can someone change in five years? After all, the last time he saw Sam he was twenty-two. Dean didn't have time to think any further. A familiar face was walking towards him, at least twenty centimeters taller than everybody else. Dean couldn't help but smile. He raised his arm and waved at his brother, but didn't call him, somehow he felt a knot in his throat. He just couldn't speak. Sam made a beeline and stopped only a few centimeters from Dean. He too was smiling brightly.
At that exact moment, Dean felt like a kid waiting for his mother's instructions. Should they hug? Should they shake hands? Should he say something? Surprisingly for him, Sam moved first. He crossed the space between them and hugged Dean. Suddenly, Dean's face was covered in hair but he didn't mind. He closed his arms around his brother and tighten his grip. It had been a long time, such a long time. He now realized how much he had missed this.
"Heya Sammy," Dean managed to croak after a while.
Sam kept silent and continued to bear-hug him, burying his face in the crook of his neck. They did not move for a solid minute. Dean noticed how tall, how muscular and fit Sam now was. He had left a scrawny young adult and met with a giant, healthy and strong man. And he missed all this, all the changes. His heart ached, knowing he would never be able to go back in time and be there for his little brother.
"Dean…" Sam finally said as he withdrew. "You actually came."
"Course I did, Sammy!" Dean defended. "It's… it's really nice to see you buddy."
Sam's smile became a little bit sadder, for a reason unknown to Dean. "Yeah, you too."
Silence fell between them, a little awkward.
"So, err… do you have a luggage or something?" Dean asked, gesturing to Sam. "Can I help you carry?"
"No, I'm good. Just got a backpack." Sam explained, showing a black bag that hung on his shoulders.
"Okay, cool. I'm parked not far. Let's go."
Sam nodded, pushed his brown mane behind his ears and followed Dean who had already taken the direction back to the parking lot.
They walked side by side until they reached Dean's car. Sam let out a small laugh when he saw it.
"What's funny?" Dean asked, smiling at Sam.
"The Impala." Sam explained. "I can't believe you still have the car!"
"Come on, it's the Impala! She's as beautiful as ever!" Dean answered. "Just look at her!"
Sam inhaled but didn't comment. Instead he simply nodded, lips in a thin line.
"And Dad gave it to me." Dean continued. "I know he'd tear me a new one if something happened to her."
"Yeah, I remember. It was a pretty big deal when he gave it to you."
"It was his pride, remember? He used to work on her every damn weekend!"
Sam chuckled. "Used to drive Mom crazy."
He shook his bag off his shoulders and waited for Dean to open the doors. "All she ever wanted was to have a nice family trip somewhere but Dad was too focused on the car."
"Yeah…" Dean agreed. "But she got some trips after he bought the new one, right?"
"Some trips… not much… You left after a while and she basically gave up on the trips."
Dean nodded, biting his lower lip while looking at the roof of the car, clearly lost in his thoughts.
"We should get going, right?" Sam asked, brows arched.
"Right. Right! Let's go!" Dean exclaimed.
They opened the doors and got into the Impala. Dean started the engine and slowly exited the parking area.
As soon as they left the airport, Dean noticed how tired his baby brother was. His eyelids were slowly drooping, he slumped a bit more on the seat by each passing minute and he only gave short answers when Dean asked him about his flight and made attempts to small talk. He decided to let Sam get some rest and true enough, a few minutes later his breathing evened out, indicating he fell asleep.
Dean drove the smoothest he knew how until they reached his apartment. He parked the car on the building's parking lot, stopped the engine and Sam began to stir next to him.
"We there?" he asked in a hoarse voice, not really managing to articulate properly.
"Yep," Dean confirmed "Fourth floor. You good to go?"
"Yeah," Sam nodded. He got out of the Impala, threw his backpack over the shoulder and waited for Dean to lead the way.
They walked through the parking lot for a few dozen meters before reaching the building's entrance. Dean opened the door and waited for Sam to catch up. They climbed the stairs and reached the old reddish door of Dean's apartment. He unlocked it as quiet as possible to not wake his only next door neighbor up. He turned on the lights, let Sam in then locked behind them.
"I bet you're knackered," Dean said, "maybe it's best you sleep for a while and we'll see what we do tomorrow?"
"Sounds good," Sam conceded. "Where's the couch?"
"Over there, next to the window", Dean indicated with his hand. He showed the couch then looked at his brother then back at the couch. "Shit…" he mustered "I don't even think you'd fit in there!"
Sam joined Dean looked at where he was supposed to sleep. He frowned. "Is it your old couch? The one from Samuel?"
"That's the one!"
"Dude, it's… antique!"
Dean laughed at that. "Yeah, it is. Still comfy though but -" he shook his head "I have no idea what's been fed to you but you're like the Green Giant!"
"Dean…" Sam began with a sigh.
"Seriously, you grew what… Twenty centimeters? Thirty? You're actually taller than me!" Dean wondered.
"Not taller than you," Sam corrected. "Way taller than you!" He laughed.
"Very funny, Gigantor!" he mocked. "There's still no way you'll fit here." He ran a hand on his neck. "Okay, you'll take the bed, I'll sleep here."
"Dean, it's fine. I had worse, I'll manage." Sam reassured him.
Dean frowned and looked up at this brother, suddenly very serious. "You had?" What had he missed during those years? What is Sam not telling him? He failed his baby brother? Again?
Sam shook his head, smiling. "Errr, nope. I haven't, but it's cool. I'll manage."
"Bitch! Don't scare me like that!" Dean refrained for punching his gigantic brother's shoulder. "Come on, I'll show you the bedroom. I'm used to sleeping here anyway."
Sam nodded and silently followed Dean, who was well aware that his brother seemed exhausted and that explained why he didn't protest any further.
"Here you go, make yourself at home. You're lucky, the sheets are clean today."
"Thank you Dean."
"Don't mention it. I'll—I'll see you in the morning. Wake me up."
"Sure, good night Dean."
"Goodnight Sammy."
Dean hesitated but finally turned on his heel and closed his bedroom door behind him, giving Sam his privacy. He then returned to the couch and contemplated it with a determined look.
"It's just you and me now. Please don't break my back," he muttered then swore when he realized he left his sleeping pants in his room. Well, too late now. He removed his jacket and let it rest on the floor next to the couch. His pants, shirt and t-shirt followed the same direction until he was left with only his boxers. Thankfully he had two cushions that he found in a box which would do as pillows for the night, and an old blanket that was thrown over the back of the couch. He managed to do a makeshift of a bed which was comfortable enough. As soon as he laid his head down, he fell asleep, exhausted by the day he had.
(***)
It seemed to Dean he only slept for about four hours, which must probably be true as he went to bed early morning. The sound of items being moved around in his kitchen managed to wake him up completely.
"Sam?" he asked, a hand rubbing his face.
"Yes, sorry I woke you up. I'm trying to make coffee and didn't find the machine."
Dean stood up slowly, testing how much the couch screwed his lower back. "S'okay Sammy, I'll do it." He cringed, feeling a bit sore. "Why don't you take a shower while I prepare breakfast?"
His heard his brother take a small inhale. "It's—I already took a shower. I hoped you wouldn't mind?"
"Errr, no, it's cool." He ran a hand through his hair and managed to stand up completely. "Hey, you know what I got you?" he asked, chipper and smiling brightly.
Sam shut a cupboard and raised his eyebrows. "What?"
Dean couldn't hold it in any longer, he just knew that would make Sam happy, just like when they were kids. "Lucky Charms!" Dean exclaimed, a huge smile in his lips. "Man, you just loved those! I remember you always asked Mom to buy you more."
Immediately, Dean felt something was wrong when Sam did not share his enthusiasm. He frowned. Was Sam looking hesitant?
"Spit it out, buddy. What's wrong?" he asked as he walked to meet Sam in his small kitchen.
Sam winced a little. "I—err… I kinda don't eat those anymore," he explained.
"Oh…" Dean slightly raised his eyebrows. "No worries, man. I can put something together real quick. What about PB&J? Sounds good?" he tried.
"Actually…" Sam still looked hesitant. "Do you have fruits or—err… or a yogurt?"
Dean almost let out a big laugh because Sam had to be joking, but as soon as he realized his brother was genuine about this, he stopped and tried to look serious. "No. No actually. Want me to make some pancakes?"
"No Dean, really. Coffee is fine," Sam objected.
Dean felt a bit bad to not be able to meet his brother's expectations. "You sure you don't want pancakes? I can assure you I make some mean pancakes!"
Sam shook his head. "Just coffee please."
"Alright…" Dean sighed and gave up. "Let me get that for you." He gestured for Sam to move and let him through in his kitchen. After looking in his cupboards, he got the machine up and running in only a few minutes. Meanwhile, Sam folded the blanket and put it on the back of the couch and rearranged the cushions before sitting down while Dean was busy with the coffee.
Once the coffee ready, Dean poured some in his newest mug and brought it to Sam who was waiting patiently and obviously a little awkwardly on the couch. "Sugar? Milk?" he asked as he handed it to his brother.
"None, thanks Dean." Sam answered. He took the mug and immediately put it down on the coffee table. "Hot!" he cringed.
"Duh!" Dean laughed. "Hey, I'll go take a shower. You make yourself at home, okay? And if you feel like eating something, just, you know—whatever." He said as he gestured towards the kitchen.
"Huh. Yeah. Got it. Thanks Dean."
Dean nodded but did not move. He hesitated and slightly opened his mouth. He wanted to add something but the words were stuck behind his lips. He was so glad to have his baby brother back, to talk to him and have a little domesticity like when they were kids. But he knew he was never good with words. And so he tried to articulate a sentence to express how he felt, but Sam's raised eyebrows and questioning look cut that short.
"I'll be quick," he muttered as he turned and headed to his bedroom where the bathroom was located.
Dean bee lined to his bedroom where he closed the door and silently insulted his incapacity to communicate properly, even with his own brother. He took his boxers off and threw them in the dirty laundry bag in a corner of the room then opened his closet and gathered fresh clothes for the day. He laid everything down on his bed when he noticed Sam had actually made the bed. This early in the morning? Dean had no idea what time it was. He looked at his alarm clock. Almost ten o'clock. So they really only slept for about four hours.
Decided to spend as much time as possible with his baby brother, Dean rushed to the bathroom and took what was probably his quickest shower ever. All clean and smelling faintly of ginger, he dried himself and put on the clothes: a worn out pair of jeans and a grey and black henley.
He looked at his reflection in the mirror on one bedroom wall and was satisfied with what he was seeing. He walked out and saw Sam, smiling bright while typing furiously on his smartphone.
"Hey Sammy! It's too early for sexting!" Dean shouted, making Sam roll his eyes even if he couldn't actually see it.
"Not sexting. Just confirming I was alright," he retorted, still smiling.
Dean moved towards the couch and used his silliest voice. "Aaaawwww. Your girlfriend's worried!" He sat down and wriggled his eyebrows.
"Yeah," Sam confirmed. "And you don't have to be a dick about it," he bit back, side-eyeing Dean who got thrown back.
"Sorry."
He gestured toward the phone. "That's—that's nice actually. And kinda cute." He looked at Sam, who seemed to accept this as an apology. "Hey, want more coffee?"
"Nah, I'm good."
"Okay. Awesome." Dean nodded and bit his lower lip. He nodded once more and tried to ease the tension in the room. "You know what you wanna eat today? Chinese? Italian?" he suggested.
"Dean," Sam cut him off, turning slowly to face him as he pocketed his phone. "I appreciate the effort but I didn't come all the way here for small talk."
"Yeah. Got it." Dean conceded. "I bet you have questions. Shoot!"
Sam nodded. His eyes were fixed on Dean while he thought about what to ask first.
"Where were you?" he finally questioned.
"Chicago. For the most part." Dean answered honestly. If he was going to fix his relation with his brother, he could not omit one bit and only tell the truth.
"What did you do?" Sam asked.
"I was in a mob. I—"
"In a mob?!" Sam interrupted, eyes growing wide. "You got to be kidding!"
"Wait! Let me finish!" Dean said, hands raised to try to calm Sam down. He waited for his brother to settle down, then continued. "You may have heard about it on the news. The Crowley Organization?" Sam nodded.
"Well, I infiltrated that mob. I was an undercover cop and my role was to get information and proof to help bring it down."
Sam could not mutter a word. His lips were slightly parted. Dean took this as an encouraging sign. Maybe Sam was ready to forgive his years of absence if he thought Dean did a good job. Just maybe.
"At first it was supposed to last one year. That would give me enough time to be trusted and sniff around, you know? But after a while, I got higher in ranks and closer to Crowley. They decided to extend my mission by a year. Then another. And another. I got in deep, man! Real deep. I was trusted by Crowley himself and managed to get loads of proof and testimonies."
"And that helped to bring the whole organization down?" Sam asked with a small voice.
"Yeah!" Dean scoffed. "You betcha! Benny said that thanks to me, Crowley would be away for life! And others too! We brought hell on them!"
"Benny?" Sam asked.
"My handler."
Sam nodded, eyes wide and a little disbelieving. "Wow, Dean. That's… that's… I don't even know what to say!"
Dean scratched the back of his neck. "I'm sorry Sammy. I just couldn't tell you, or Mom or Dad, about it. It would have put you and me in a dangerous position."
"And now?"
"What now?"
"Now you're telling me this but are you safe? Are we safe?" Sam questioned, worry creeping in his voice.
"The whole organization is wiped out! I'm just waiting on some confirmation from my Chief and the official trial but… I'm good. We're good." Dean finished with a smile. He exhaled slowly, not realizing how tensed he was. Even his fingers hurt as he noticed he white-knuckled through the whole story. "That's why I can tell you now but couldn't earlier. Chief and Benny said the last guys who were trying to escape got caught. The rest is just small fry. The whole organization is dismantled! It's awesome, right?"
Sam nodded slowly.
"That's gotta count for something right? I mean, I didn't ditch you for a Russian baby-doll. It was for something big!"
Sam put his hair behind his ears and licked his lips. "I need a drink."
"Coffee?" Dean suggested with a silly grin.
"Dean…" Sam growled.
"Okay! Beer it is! Hey, it's five somewhere!"
He immediately stood up and hurried to the kitchen where he grabbed two beers from the fridge. He uncapped the bottles and returned to the couch. Sam was now sitting more comfortably, head resting against the wall because that's how tall he was. Dean sat down next to him and handed him a beer. Sam took it and without any word, gulped down half.
"Hey, slow down tiger!" Dean warned, amused to see his brother drink. When he left, Sam was barely allowed alcohol.
"Thanks," Sam said as he rested the bottle against his thigh, eyes lost on the ceiling.
"No problem, man. I got another six-pack if you need!"
"No. I mean, thanks for telling me."
"Oh. Okay. Hum… sure…" Dean hesitated, unsure about what to say. Thankfully Sam still had questions he needed to ask.
"But what exactly did you do all this time? You just couldn't have stalked the guys and take pictures or whatever?"
Dean laughed. "No, nothing like that. I got hired as a mechanic in a garage that had ties with the mafia. Then, I got in for some of their operations. Helped here and there. Took care of business. Tracked down moles. You know, that sort of things."
"Moles?" Sam straighten up and looked at his brother. "Dean! Did you hurt people?"
"Oh come on…" Dean whined as he mentally slapped himself. "Why don't we talk about you, eh?"
"No, I want to know! And don't give me that's classified crap!"
Dean double-slapped himself and sighed. "Sam, I had to be the real-deal. I couldn't just pretend, that's not how it works." He looked at his brother and shook his head. He felt suddenly warmth in his limbs, like an old anger slowly washing over him.
"You know, when you watch cop shows, they make it look so cool and heroic. But being undercover for real? Dude, that sucks! Big time! You get dirty and you gotta play by their rules. You just can't show weakness or they'll know! And if they knew, it's not only me they'd take care of. First, they'd go after you, after Mom and Dad. After Benny, Chief Singer, Lisa and Ben! Everyone! They'd make me watch how they torture you. Then they'd kill you, slowly. And if I got lucky, they'd kill me next, nice and clean. And all this, just to set an example." He spat out, not catching a single breath between his words. "This is—that's so fucked up. I can't even tell you the things I've heard." He slowed down and without looking away from his brother, he concluded. "Yeah, Sam. I hurt people."
As Dean's monologue went on, Sam grew paler and paler, his chin hanging lower and lower. He was at a loss, clearly not knowing how to react. "I'm—I'm so sorry Dean…"
Dean shook his head. He wanted to leave the room and be left alone. He was angry and felt miserable at the same time. But he knew that was not the answer. He had to face his brother and maybe get things back on track. He brought the beer bottle to his lips and started drinking in long gulps, eyes closed. He let his thoughts wander while the cold liquid ran down his throat, trying to cool down before he could face Sam again. He dreaded to see the inevitable look of disgust on his face, knowing what he had done. Well… knowing partially what he had done. But maybe disgust was better than running away. When he had enough and felt strong enough to look at Sam, he opened his eyes and placed the bottle on the coffee table. He slowly turned his head, ready to deal with Sam's distrust. But what he saw was his brother's puppy face, the very same he used when they were kids to get the last Lucky Charms or even later when he tried to bribe Dean to swap his chocolate ice-cream for his strawberry one. Dean was weak against that look, he knew it. It was a Pavlovian response. Sam seemed so lost and frail despite his gigantic frame. Dean squinted. Was Sam's eyes getting wet? Oh no! Dean could not handle tears!
"Hey, it's cool Sammy!" Dean hurried to add. "What's done is done! I cannot change the past and really, getting rid of Crowley was a favor done to the world!"
Suddenly, Sam's arms were around his shoulders and his face buried in his neck. "I'm so sorry…" he heard, muffled. "So sorry Dean. I'm so sorry." The hug got tighter to the point of being almost painful but Dean did not care. He loved it. He raised his arms and hugged back, just as solid. But before his heartbeat could slow down from his happiness high, Sam had let go and was trying to go back to his own seat on the couch. Immediately, Dean missed it. It had been five years since he last hugged his baby brother properly. He felt entitled to a longer hug than this. Somehow he sensed it would not be the last and that thought alone made him smile.
"It's cool Sammy," he repeated "it's all in the past now."
Sam nodded. "What are you gonna do now?" he asked as he sniffed, trying to regain his composure.
"Back to being a cop," Dean answered "as soon as some guy gives his approval. I need his clearance before I can go back."
"You need a shrink's approval or something?"
"Well, not a shrink but yes. Seems like being undercover for five years could have messed me up. He's here to confirm I'm no danger for myself or society and that I cut all ties with the mob, that kind of stuff." Dean shrugged. "I'm learning to be a regular citizen again!" he laughed.
Sam raised his eyebrows. "Wow, I didn't know…" he sniffed again. "Hey, how about we go get lunch somewhere? What do you say? I'm starving!"
Dean approved eagerly. "There's this diner I know… sound good?"
"Yeah. Sounds great," Sam agreed, a smile on his face.