They had run out of gas two hours in. Sam's weird ass luck still held in all the ways it didn't matter but still made a difference. A car empty with almost a full tank and Sam would have taken it for the four wheel drive if it hadn't been one of those new kinds. One that demanded special keys to get the engine to start so they were siphoning gas.
"I'm sorry Cas." He meant it in ways he wasn't even sure of yet. The fallen angel tilted his head still learning the ways of humans, of being afraid of sleep and not liking the bodily demands. A hand was on his shoulder.
"He would be proud."
Sam choked back something that was still threatening to overtake him as they got in and kept going. He wanted somewhere away from cities and people and the things they turned into. He wanted somewhere that they wouldn't be found for a while, away from the stench of death.
Castiel made no arguments, staring blankly out the window.
XX
XX
It was the silence that was the worst. Missing Dean's singing along with the same damn music that he knew so well he could recite it backwards. The way Dean liked to move, all that energy too much to be contained so he was always going. The way he could laugh when he irritated Sam, some stupid thing or knowing Sam hated a song so he just turned it up more. Who smirked and grinned and made it his mission to be as frustrating as possible.
Creeping under his skin until all he was could only be Dean.
"Do you ever think," Sam started, swallowed back a lump, "about Dean being a ghost?"
Castiel made a quiet noise that Sam was sure qualified as laughter. "Your brother has a penchant for doing impossible things."
The image of Dean as the happy phantom skipping around the world while heaven's armies chased behind made him finally smile.
XX
XX
Sam was fairly sure that if Cas wasn't there he'd be talking like Dean was. Probably carrying on whole conversations and answering and being completely insane. Hell, if Lucifer figured out a way to saunter up looking like his brother Sam would be done, crawling and begging and just desperate to be near.
"You should eat," Cas said, passing over a protein bar of dubious quality.
Dried fruit wasn't a substitute for the real thing he decided, pulling the wrapper back. He tried not to miss produce too much, thinking of how Dean claimed the only good vegetables where the ones that came as flimsy offerings on his burgers.
Sam drove on, the small relief of having something to focus on. They used back roads that weren't choked with abandoned cars, through fields arid with their owners dead. Trying to avoid anything that once had humans unless they needed something.
Trucks were good for hauling large amounts of supplies at least. Even if it was all crap from houses they ransacked and probably really unhealthy. At least they had found vitamins so maybe they wouldn't have some deficiency breakdown here.
"You are sleeping less."
Sam nodded. Lucifer's pushed into his dreams, the entire front of understanding abandoned for the slow crawl into insanity. Of whispers that it was over, that his brother was gone.
"There's only small populations out here," Sam said, not wanting to talk about Lucifer ever. "I mean, the desert climate's not great but less demons and –"
"Smaller populations of infected to deal with for supplies," Castiel finished. "I agree. The best we can do now is to keep you from his hands."
It was a terrible truth, and Sam swallowed back the words as he looked up. The night was vast and endless and he wished he was a star plastered up there. Something cold and unmoving, something that refused to feel. Something that didn't know the sensation of numb devastation that was eating him like a fine meal.
The fallen angel put something into his mouth, eyes sliding closed and Sam smiled. They had found good chocolate a couple of days ago and Cas was determined to make it last.
XX
XX
It finally happened, he was breaking down.
They were leaning against the side of the truck that had the shade, hundreds miles of nothing lacing its patient fingers all through him.
His body shuddered, silent as he felt the tears come. There was a hand on him and he saw it in Castiel's eyes, the wet shine and he was gone. Fist in his mouth as he rocked back and forth, clutching at Cas, pulling him close as the fallen angel buried his head against him not making a sound. Boots kicked up puffs of dust as he uselessly moved his legs like they could run to some different future; one where this never happened.
Sometimes it felt like Dean was a ghost settled in his bones, something that he rode around with picking away at the joints till they gave.
"I forget at times," Cas was saying. His voice almost inaudible against the wind rushing through the open windows as Sam drove the long expanses of nothing that wound through the desert like a string. "When I wake up I expect to see him, complaining and eating. Until I remember and it's losing him all over again."
His hands tightened on the wheel, turning a bloodless white because he's not sure he can say it. That he misses all the tiny little things that snapped together to make Dean. Or that he missed impossible things, things they never had. Things he still longed for like sleeping all happy and tangled in Dean.
Castiel was looking at him now, eyes glittering in the harsh sun so brightly it made the blue in his eyes explode. Bottomless wells of grief and loss and he made himself look away, pay attention to keeping them on the black ribbon carved into the parched earth.
"If you ever want to tell me know I will never judge you."
A nod, that was all Sam can manage and when he chanced a glance his friend was back looking out the window, wind assaulting his hair, whipping it into crooked angles.
XX
XX
It wasn't so cold right now, Cas curled up in the front seat to stay out of the wind. It was wild and expansive, more so at night; like nothing had boundaries in this free form infinity. Soon they'd run out of water and have to make a choice on whether to die of thirst or risk another town. It had been too close last time. The wound, a long furious rent down Cas' back, still fiery and swollen from where he had stitched the frayed skin together.
When Cas was sleeping it felt as if someone had reached in and ripped out his guts. Like he was holding his belly, trying to keep the last of himself in as he leaked all over the ground until there was little left.
Sitting on the back bumper, pressed up against the chilled metal of the tailgate, the want was just too strong and he slid his hand down. He hoped Cas was still out like a light. Hoping the fallen angel wasn't all the way dead, though maybe it would be a mercy if he slid out unaware.
Somehow he was ready despite all the death and blood and just pure grief that chewed more out of him every day. He tried not to think about Dean, the way he had moved or the loud brashness of him. He tried not to think of what those hands might of felt like with their papery dryness and callouses drifting over his skin. Of how they could have moved together, the scent of them hanging heavy in the air.
He bit into his hand when his body went over the edge, stopping a sound that was something between a groan and a sob. He knew he was weeping. Dean would have given him a pitying look, said some smart ass thing about fondling himself like a girl.
He got himself cleaned up, checked to see that Cas was breathing and alright. Not that he should ever have to sleep, to have something stripped of him he had had his whole damn existence because of them.
Think of something else, anything else but these things, he commanded himself.
It didn't work.
XX
XX
"Why do you stay?"
They were huddled together, the night punishingly cold as Cas shivered trying to get warm under the layers of blankets. The sides of the truck bed and tarp cover kept out the brunt of the wind, limiting the sand and cold that blew around them. The cost of being a hundred miles from anything, of not being near something that could tell.
"You are my friend, Sam. I will be with you as you continue to say no."
"I won't break a promise to him again."
"I miss him."
Sam pulled him closer, Castiel wrapping an arm that wasn't warm enough around him, face cool against his neck. They waited for dawn, to see if heaven would grow tired of waiting today and just attacked.
XX
XX
The wound was oozing infectious gooey pus; the smell alone heralding the final outcome. Castiel's eyes were glassy, hands working the blanket he laid on between his fingers as if he had managed to be partially somewhere else for a while. Somewhere that didn't have Sam trying to scrap out dead skin and foul smelling stick determined to grow inside him.
Whatever had gotten in there had gotten in deep, weaving a home for itself in his friend. Sam knew it was in his blood, the pallor despite all the sun they got. Those eyes a more diffuse shade of blue betraying the constant excruciating burden of just existing. Nothing seemed to work, and Sam wanted to punch something. He wanted to ridicule himself because what good was swiping what miniscule amount of drugs they could find if this is the result they got.
Cleaning, disinfecting, clean bandages, pills taken and water coaxed down with food. Yet that body grew weaker, trembling under the weight of just itself.
Cas had said no when he wanted to move them somewhere with a less brutal sun.
"What do you want to do, Cas?" His voice was scarcely audible, sweat coating both of them. He shifted, jeans caked with dust and the never ending feeling of just always dirty. "Do you want me –"
"I'm not trying to leave you, Sam," his voice uneven, eyes more focused now. Sam shuffled over so Cas could see him without having to move.
"I know." He squeezed a hand that was clutching the blanket, the skin clammy and too warm. "I don't want you to suffer and we're losing this one."
They were losing everything.
"I keep hoping for a miracle. That my Father shows up, that Michael does something," the words are raspy and Sam pushes the hair out of that face with a damp cloth. "Don't let them take your soul willingly."
"I won't," he promised since that was the only thing he could actually promise.
Castiel was trying to push himself up, Sam grabbed him before his arms buckled from simple exertion. Fade blue eyes, ribs like steps up that washed out chest with the Enochian tattoo a brilliant black smudge along his side. An arm slung around Sam's neck, a small fire cutting through his skin.
"Not laying down," the voice rasped, fingers clutching at him.
"Okay, Cas."
Somehow his voice was steady when the rest felt so undone, the weight of his weapon cold in his hand even as the world already felt lit up. Sam ran his free hand through that unruly hair, kissed his temple. Castiel's face slid into something that was peace as the shot was lined up.
"Love you, Cassie."
XX
XX
The few times he was able to dream without Lucifer polluting his thoughts he dreamed of Dean. The way he sat, the way he laughed all full and big and just there. Sam wanted to touch, to tell his brother it was alright, that everything would be okay.
Sam tried to count all the freckles spread out across those cheeks each time before he woke up, face pressed into Castiel's shirt. Feeling like all the filaments that made him Sam were blowing away.
XX
XX
Tongue slide over his cracked lips, barely providing relief as he stared at the inside of his eyelids. Dean was behind him, somehow they both were wedged along the truck's bench seat, his brother's arm curled around his waist. Water would have to be gotten soon before it got dangerously low. Out here in the heat the bodies in the streets just mummified, couldn't even decay properly so they sat on the earth unable to join it.
Sometimes it felt like eyes were watching, that not everything was all the way dead yet.
"It's alright, Sammy."
"He says he can help me, make it go away," he murmured, voice cracking from disuse. "Make me go away."
Dean shifted, nestling more into him like he a well fed cat. Sleepiness from the heat and fatigue ate along his consciousness, made it crumble and disintegrate.
"You're never here when I wake up."
There wasn't an answer, only that press along his skin like fine static as he slipped from the world for a while.
XX
XX
They had found him finally. A whole little gaggle of demons staring, teeth glinting and he wondered if Lucifer even had a vessel still or if he had burned like a sun through Nick.
His muscles ached as he palmed Ruby's knife in one hand, Cas' sword in the other. From the looks of hunger on their faces he knew this wasn't going to be fast. Some sort of retribution against him for running and hiding himself away out here. He raised his eyes up, staring at the vibrant sky that was powder blue and empty.
Michael, if you can hear me and if you haven't destroyed my brother can you tell him I love him, that I fought to the end?
There wasn't a lot of power left in him, but he hoped as they came closer, eyes black and ravenous, he could take a couple down. He would keep the promises made until everything that made him Sam was ripped away.
The first one lunged when there was a sound close by as his world turned to white.
XX
XX
They were stopped as he sleepily opened his eyes, trying to stretch and see against the glare of the Texas summer all around them.
"Are we already –" his words cut off when he saw he was alone and panic began to flood as his own door was open. Hand already on his gun when he saw who was standing there. "Dean?"
"Seriously? Your heaven is riding around in Baby?"
There was something pleased, pushing a faint smile at his brother's mouth as he got out, confused as if waking from something far deeper than sleep. They were in the middle of the road, highway stretched out for miles of the flat landscape. The sky so big it felt like it was threatening to swallow him if he reached up too high.
"Dean?" He felt like he weighed nine hundred pounds as he staggered and pushed himself against the Impala before he collapsed.
"Sammy, hey man, it's okay. Everything's alright." Dean's hands are on him now and they can't be because he's dead. "He said you'd be a bit whacked out at first."
"He?" But Sam already knew. Oh, he knew and he was pissed as he saw that shifty look Dean got when he did something questionable. "What did you do?"
"He didn't get it at first Sam. I don't think he understood what his Dad was asking."
Sam wanted to scream at the sky that wasn't real, that couldn't be real at the thought of his brother being brutalized all over again after everything. That he should have been here, with the version of Sam that he wanted and craved for. Not bent over and desecrated and a hand was in his hair, holding fast.
"Sammy, you did good." Dean's breaths were hot against him in the noonday sun, the glare rebounding hard enough off the Impala's black sheen that it was almost hard to see. "I saw, Sam. We saw."
"You can't – " and his voice fails him as his face heats with shame, something low and primal urging him to run.
"I heard you," Dean was saying, face too close, mouth at his ear as Sam listened. That voice telling him of what his brother had dreamed of while dying, of seeing his memories after they grabbed him.
He couldn't start this. He didn't know how to start this.
"Sammy."
Dean's mouth was on him, pushing and wanting. It demanded and Sam gave, just melted into it because it was far better than he had ever been able to imagine. All Dean, it had always been Dean who was his beginning and end, his heaven and hell. The press of cloth between his fingers as he held on, terrified it would slip away.
"What did you do?" he got out again when Dean finally let him go.
"There's none of that paradise crap. The world is, you know, scotch taped back together. Minus the devil – " Dean's voice trailed off and Sam got it.
Sam swallowed down words about Cas, that wound raw and screaming still.
"Michael helped us?"
"He nattered on about always doing Dad's will," Dean waved a hand before it came to rest on his shoulder, a weight that he didn't even know he had missed. "What is right and good and blah blah blah. You know how they are."
Something bit deep in him, sharp fear bisecting him as he held onto his brother, twisted his fingers in that shirt.
"I don't think this is real," he whispered because it was so much of what he wanted. What Lucifer had sang to him in his sleep, told him that he would grant if Sam came to him and he wasn't sure anymore if he had or hadn't.
Dean was watching him, eyes half closed from the brilliance of the day and Sam waited for him to evaporate like a mirage in the pounding heat.
"It's going to be okay, Sammy," his brother said quietly. "I'd promise it was real but I don't think it would make much of a difference."
Sam shook his head because it wouldn't. It wouldn't take away that haunting feeling that flowed in him, growing more relentlessly certain until it felt like a wide current about to flood over.
"Let's not have this chick moment out here, huh? I'm blistering."
A sharp thwack on his back, Dean making his way around the front of the Impala and Sam crumpled into the passenger seat. The smell of the car, the way his brother wore his lopsided grin, happy to just be here with him. It felt solid and true but it was too much; too much good when all they had ever been served with was bad rotting from the inside out.
Sam attempted a smile, wondering if his brother had said yes. Wondering if he was currently still being worn.
"Not going anywhere, Sam," Dean was saying sliding over, punishing mouth pushing open his own, balancing finely between too much and rapture. The taste, feel, smell of Dean was all around him and he wanted to sink into it, just give himself over right here as his brother pulled back. "It's going to be okay."
Sam nodded, almost missing the soft 'Love ya, Sammy' that Dean got out as the engine turned over. He said it back, just as low letting it slide over him. He could pretend, maybe not forever but for a while. Maybe he could get so lost that it just wouldn't matter anymore.
Dean was driving, singing with glances thrown his way, to see where this road led.
End Note - There really is no concrete way to read this ending of whether or not Sam's views are correct. I personally prefer the happier less bleak version.
Thank you for taking the time read!
