August 31, 2014
"Cas, have you seen my shoe?" Sam called, shuffling around the living room carefully. Cas peeked in from the kitchen, scanning the floor and chuckling when he saw Sam's tattered sneaker poking out from under the couch. He crossed the floor and handed it to the teenager. "Oh...thanks...I guess I didn't see it there." Sam ran his hand over the back of his neck and adjusted the patch over his eye.
"It's okay, Sam. That's what I'm here for." Cas touched Sam's shoulder reassuringly and smiled at him. "You excited for your first day back to school? Last year of school, that's exciting." Sam's bruises had faded for the most part, and he was almost back to looking like himself (minus the eye patch and scarring on his face). He pulled a shrug.
"I guess. I mean, this thing," He gesutred to his eye patch with a disgusted look on his face. "Will probably attract some attention, but I'm sure half the school already heard the story anyway."
"It'll be okay, Sammy, I promise. If any of them give you a hard time, you let me know. I'll take care of it." Cas shot him a wink before meandering back into the kitchen to finish drinking his coffee. He was halfway through the sports section of the news paper when Dean stumbled into the kitchen, scratching at his stomach absently.
"Mornin', babe." He mumbled, snagging the mug of coffee from Cas' hand and taking a large drink. He wrinkled his nose and scowled at the cup. "Ugh, how the hell do you drink that milky shit?" Cas opened his mouth to answer, but Sam's quiet snicker cut him off. Dean rolled his eyes at Sam. "Real mature, bitch."
"Jerk." Sam's reply was instantaneous and Cas couldn't help but smile. The term of endearment was commonplace between the brothers, but it would never fail to make him chuckle. A car horn sounded in the driveway and Sam took a deep breath. "That's Jess. Wish me luck." He sighed, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and heading out the front door. Dean settled into the chair across from Cas, his eyes scanning over him.
"What?" Cas chuckled, brushing his hand over his jaw self-conciously.
"Nothin'. Just admiring the view." Dean gave him a wolf smile and reached over to brush Cas' hair back. "So, I got a proposition."
"Oh? Well, if it's anything like your usual propositions, you'll have to wait until I get off my shift tonight." Cas laughed, adjusting his uniform over the Kevlar, the clothes suddenly far too hot and too constricting.
"No, it's, uh," Dean's eyes flicked away nervously. "It's not that. I want you to come with me." Cas quirked an eyebrow. "Tonight. On my run."
"Oh...yes, of course. I'd love to." Cas nodded, trying to conceal exactly how excited he was. It had taken months to convince Dean to allow him to come on a run with him.
"Good, that's, uh, that's good." Dean drummed the table top gently before getting up and grabbing his own cup of coffee, black, the way he liked it. "So, we'll go tonight when you get home. Just...you know, don't tell anyone."
"Dean. I'm a police officer. I think I know that I can't tell anyone I'm going on a moonshine run with my bad influence of a boyfriend." Dean snorted a laugh into his coffee cup and shook his head.
"I know that, Cas, I just wanted to be clear. You're going to see some things tonight that...well, that you might not like. You give me the word and I'll have someone take you home, no questions asked. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."
"I'll be fine, you worry too much, as usual." He stood, draining the last of his coffee and moving to place the cup in the dishwasher. "I'll see you after work." He dropped a quick kiss to Dean's temple before heading out for his shift, giddiness about going on the run building in his chest.
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It shouldn't have been a surprise to Cas that "moonshiner Dean" was completely different then the Dean he saw on a daily basis, but it did. The swagger in his step was amplified, his face was twisted in a scowl that was down right terrifying, and his muscles were wound tightly. Even the way that he spoke, the way that he carried himself, his entire demeanor shifted when he stepped out of the Impala and faced his crew. He practically oozed aggression, and dominance, and was not someone to be trifled with.
Cas followed behind him carefully into the barn, which was one that he'd passed nearly everyday on his shifts. The smell of moonshine permeated the air around them as they passed three seperate stills. He had no idea Dean's operation was this big. Men scattered, moving to one side or the other when Dean walked through the center mass of the group.
The whole barn shifted and groaned with life, the tattered wood of the walls practically a living being itself. All of the men seemed to have developed a dance, when one shifted, the rest of the group shifted around him, all of them moving in perfect harmony.
"This is impressive, Dean." Cas whispered, afraid of speaking too loudly. He didn't want to disrupt the flow of things, and he certainly didn't want people asking questions. He knew a lot of the men in the barn, and they knew him. Meaning they knew he was a sheriff. He could see that going over well.
"It's a good group of guys. Honest men." Dean growled over his shoulder, the timbre of his voice sending chills down Cas' spine. He wanted to make a comment about "honest men" doing illegal work, but he couldn't bring himself to. Not when one of those men doing the work belonged to him.
They passed into a small office where two men were hunched over computers, arguing absently about something. They were both scrawny and had no meat on their bones. One of them had long, stringy hair, and a moustache that Cas hadn't seen since his best friend had tried to grow facial hair in eighth grade, and he wore a mesh tank top that, frankly, Cas didn't think anyone should ever wear. The other man was a bit more mature looking, though his curly brown hair was wet with sweat, and his goatee looked like it was sticky from the empty soda cans strewn about the desk.
"Ash, Chuck, this is Cas." Dean hooked his thumb over his shoulder at Cas after indicating which of the men was which. Chuck stumbled to his feet and extended a hand, which Cas shook slowly.
"Good to finally meet you, Castiel. Dean talks about you all the time."
"Yeah, man, you'd think you hung the moon up with gum and paperclips, way the boss is always goin' on about ya." Ash gave him a slow smile, but remained seated in the computer chair, sipping at a beer can.
"It's good to meet you both." Cas nodded politely, but he took a cautious half-step back towards Dean, standing close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off of Dean through his jacket, but not close enough that they were touching.
"He's gonna be coming on the run with me tonight. You boys are gonna need to man those scanners, and let me know if anything out of the ordinary comes across. I don't want no surprises after we get outta here." Ash and Chuck nodded their agreement. "Good. The car loaded up?"
"You bet, boss. Gassed, packed, and ready to rumble." Ash responded. Dean nodded slowly and turned to look at Cas, gripping his bicep and pulling him out of ear shot of the other two. "You sure you want to do this?" He whispered.
"Dean, for the hundreth time, yes, I'm sure I want to do this." Cas sighed, rolling his eyes and tugging his arm out of Dean's grip. Dean sighed and raked his fingers through his hair before nodding and leading the way out of the barn, around the back of it. Cas quirked an eyebrow at him. "Didn't we park the Impala out front?" Dean chuckled and nodded.
"Yeah, we did. We're not taking Baby, too dangerous for her. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to her. We're taking Colt. The 'company car'." They stopped walking in front of a car that was covered with a grungy taupe colored tarp, the sound of crickets in the field filling the silence between them. Dean glanced at Cas and grabbed the tarp, tearing it off.
Underneath was a polished, jet black Camaro. The car was gorgeous, Cas had to admit that, even if he didn't know the first thing about cars it was obvious. It practically oozed speed and danger. He ran his fingers over the hood of the car slowly, his eyes roaming the glossy paint as he moved into the passenger's seat. Dean watched him through heavily lidded eyes before smirking, and backing up a few steps. Cas watched him curiously, busting into a loud, throaty laugh when Dean sprinted forward and slid across the hood before jumping in the open driver's side window.
"Alright, easy there, Bo Duke." He said between bouts of laughter. Dean smirked and fired up the engine. He leaned over the stick shift until his breath puffed over Cas' chin and he gave him a broader shark smile.
"Bo and Luke got nothin' on me, baby." He rasped, leaning in to place a quick kiss to Cas' lips. When he pulled away, he was grinning and shifted the car into gear before tearing out onto the road. Cas fidgeted in the seat nervously as they started towards the dusty, abandoned road that Dean had taken him to those months before. His stomach was knotted and sitting in the bottom of his throat as they rode in silence.
"Dean?" He questioned, his voice barely loud enough to filter over the classic rock coming from the speakers. Dean hummed something that sounded like 'hmm'. "Why this run? What made you change your mind about me coming with you?" He sighed and looked at Cas out of the corner of his eye. The look made Cas nervous until he saw the corners of Dean's mouth twitch upward.
"This," He gestured broadly to the road in front of him. "Is my last run. I'm getting out. I'm gonna get to pick up more shifts at the Roadhouse, and Bobby asked if I want to become co-owner of the garage, so that I can inherit it some day. I'm gonna start making an honest living. I want to do something that you and Sammy can be proud of, not something that you have to hide from everyone." Cas stared at him, his jaw hanging open.
"That's...Dean that's great! I mean, I wouldn't have said anything if you wanted to do this until the day you died, that's your choice, but I think running a garage when you're old and grey will be a little less stressful." Cas joked, reaching over and placing his hand on top of Dean's on the stick shift. Dean flipped his hand and captured Cas' fingers with his own, lifting the hand and brushing a kiss over the knuckles.
"It'll be perfect. You, me, and Sammy. And there's," He heard Dean audibly swallow. "There's something else I've been meaning to ask you." He took back his hand and reached his hand into his pocket, fishing around. Cas didn't know if the roaring in his ears was from the engine or the blood rushing to his head when Dean pulled a simple, white gold band from his pocket and handed it to Cas as non-chalantly as he would the sugar for his coffee.
"Dean..." He whispered, his blue eyes clouded with tears and confusion. "Are you...does this mean..." He stammered incoherently. Dean chuckled and nodded.
"I was gonna do this right, you know, flowers, and dinner, and music, you know, the whole shebang, but I..." Dean shrugged, the grin still plastered to his face. "I don't know, that didn't really seem like us. We've always been different, you and me, Cas. More gun powder and lighter fluid then hearts and flowers. So, I figured, what better place to do it then in the one place where a cop should never tread?" He smirked and looked to where Cas was sliding the ring onto his finger. "I'll take that as a yes?"
"I'm surprised that you thought there was any chance I would say no." Cas replied in lieu of dignifying, what he thought to be, a stupid question. "So, how's this whole thing work?"
"Well, you're gonna sit right here, I'm gonna get out and do the deal with my buyer 'cause he's new and I don't want any variables thrown into this, then we're gonna head home, and I'm going to show you just how much I appreciate the way that ring looks on you." He wiggled his eyebrows and stomped on the clutch, grabbing another gear as the speedometer edged closer to a hundred and ten miles an hour.
Cas knew a thing or two about driving at break-neck speeds, he'd been through E-VOC, afterall, but there was something positively...sexy about the way that Dean handled himself behind the wheel of a car. He was so comfortable, and at ease that it made Cas' heart clench in his chest.
He glanced out the window, taking in the scenery around him, vaguely registering that they'd reached Thunder Road and were blasting along the empty asphalt. His blood was thrumming with adrenaline when he caught sight of the dim headlights at the end of the road. Dean reached over and squeezed his shoulder lightly.
"Relax." He soothed, but his face was devoid of the trademark smirk. He had slipped back into 'business mode', Cas could tell, and the mask sent a shiver through his body. Soon enough, they had slowed to a stop five-hundred feet from the other car. Dean got out of the car, smoothing his hands over his t-shirt, and started towards the other car.
Cas shifted in his seat, squinting to make out the figure as the buyer came closer. He was a taller, broad shouldered man who's stomach seemed to be trying to escape the confines of his suit pants, and Cas could make out his hard features in the dim lighting from his headlights. His heart dropped to his stomach as flashes of his life, life pre-Tennessee, pre-Winchesters, pre-blow out fight with his brothers, flashed through his head like lighting.
"You Novak? I'm Zachariah, your training officer. I'll be your partner for the first year on duty."
He fumbled with his seat belt, trying his best to get out of the seat. He had to tell him. Save him. His mind scorched through his memories like wildfire as he watched Dean ambling closer, a crate of 'shine clutched in his hands, his muscles shifting with the weight of the crate, leaving him utterly defenseless.
"You're a good cop, Castiel, you just need to commit yourself to the leadership of the precinct. You can't always go challenging everyone, or you'll find yourself out on your ass."
"I understand, Zachariah, but what if the Captain was wrong about this?"
"The Captain is never wrong. Now run along like a good little soldier, and execute that arrest warrant."
His foot caught on the edge of the car door, causing him to trip and fall face first into the dirt on the edge of the road. The impact knocked the wind out of him, but he still scrambled to his feet, holding his stomach. He started forward, his feet moving numbly and his ragged voice calling Dean's name as loudly as he could with no air in his lungs.
"Hi, I'm Uriel, I'm your new partner." The man didn't look anything like Zachariah, and Cas felt a knot in his stomach. He didn't like new people.
"New partner? What happened to Zachariah?"
"Transferred. DEA came and picked him up for some thing they've got going in the South. Trying to catch illegal moonshiners, I guess."
"DEAN!" He screamed when he finally caught his breath. Dean turned slowly, glaring over his shoulder with a look that screamed 'get in the car, Cas', but Cas kept moving forward. "IT'S A TRAP! RUN!"
Dean was dropping the crate and sprinting back towards the car before Zachariah had a chance to react, dust kicking up under the souls of his thick-soled boots.
"Move, Cas, move!" He bellowed, grabbing Cas' bicep and hustling him back to the car. They slid into the their respective seats and tore down the highway, Zachariah's car hot on their heels. Dean's knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel. "What the hell do you mean that was a trap?" Dean growled.
"That's Zachariah. He was my training officer back in New York until he got transferred to a special unit with the DEA that was specifically designed to catch moonshiners. He was going to take you to jail, Dean."
"Not a chance." Dean replied, dropping into the next gear and hammering on the gas. Cas looked in the rearview mirror in time to see the muzzle flash out the driver's side window and Zachariahs' car. The bullet dinged off of the wheel well, and Dean cursed under his breath. "Son of a bitch is gonna shoot out my tires." He mumbled. Sure enough, four shots later and there was a loud explosion before the Camaro went skidding into the dirt beside the road. Cas' chest was heaving as he looked over at Dean.
"What the fuck do we do now?" He questioned, his voice breaking. "We're gonna go to jail! What about Sammy?!" Dean reached over and clamped his hand over Cas' mouth.
"Listen to me, okay? Nothing is going to happen to us. We're going to get out of this just fine." He reached forward with his free hand and pulled a silver gun with an intricate ivory handle from the glove compartment. Cas' eyes doubled. "You sit here, I'm going to take care of things."
He watched as Dean flung open the driver's door, shot him a confident smile, and winked at him. The next thing he knew, Dean was walking towards Zachariah's car, his hands raised in front of his chest and the gun artfully tucked in the waistband of his jeans. Zachariah stepped out of his car, his gun drawn but angled down, and his brow furrowed.
"Dean Winchester, you're under arrest for the illegal sale of moonshine." Cas heard him call. Dean nodded and continued his slow, methodical steps. When he was a hundred feet from the other man, Dean stopped, reaching for the gun and pulling it up quickly, firing off three shots. The bullets tore open the white shirt under Zachariah's grey sport coat and sent the man sprawling into the dirt. Cas' breath caught in his throat when Dean turned back around, his face a grim line.
He was walking back towards the car, the gun cradled in his hands and his eyes roving over the etched metal when Cas noted that Zachariah was still moving. He watched his old partner heave himself into a sitting postition, catching the dull black of Kevlar under his shirt in the light of the Camaro's headlights. His heart stopped. He tried to call out to Dean, to warn him, but the only sound he could produce was a choked squeak. He threw the door open and pointed, but Dean wasn't looking at him, he was still looking at that damned gun.
The gun shots from Zachariah's Glock were defeaning in the silence of the canyon walls that cradled the highway. Dean's eyes flashed with pain as Cas watched the bullets tearing through his back and exiting his chest, leaving trickles of dark, black blood down the front of his t-shirt.
Dean's hand reached out, the gun falling from his hands as his terrified gaze locked with Castiel's. Cas sprinted across the dirt, reaching the other man just as Dean hit his knees, coughing and hacking up mouthfuls of blood into the dust. He dropped down next to him and pulled Dean into his lap, pressing his hand against the bullet holes.
"Nonononononono, c'mon, Dean, come on!" He cried, tears dripping off the end of his nose and onto Dean's face. He felt the gush of warm blood between his fingers and watched the crimson covering the white gold band. "You can't do this to me, Dean, you can't."
"Sss," Dean slurred, his hand reaching up and fisting in Cas' shirt. He leaned his ear closer, ignoring the metallic smell of the blood that churned his stomach. "Sammy, you gotta, you-you-you," Dean stammered around another mouth of blood. "Tell him I-I'm proud of him. G-gotta watch out f-for Sammy, a-always watch out for Sammy, Dad said s-so." Dean nodded wildly, trying his damnedest to convey how important that fact was. Cas snuffled loudly and nodded in agreement, reaching up to brush the hair off Dean's forehead. His fingers left a streak of blood across ivory skin. He didn't look at it.
"Yeah, Dean, we'll look out for Sammy. You and me. Always." Cas nodded.
"I love you, C-Cas."
"I love you too, Dean. More then anything." Cas replied around a choked sob. Dean sighed, a shaky, watery sound from the bottom of his feet, his chest heaving and stuttering with ragged breaths. And then...it didn't. Cas felt the moment his heart stopped because there was no longer the slow pulse of blood through his fingers. There was no more electric spark that was Dean. There was nothing. Cas' hands quivered as he clutched Dean to his chest, violent sobs overtaking him.
"Castiel, you should have known this would happen." Zachariah rapsed, pulling the bullet from his Kevlar. "You should have stayed in New York." Cas turned to face him, his eyes flaming.
"You just took away everything from me, you son of a bitch! What the fuck makes you think you have any right to speak to me like this?!" He growled, his voice deadly.
"Do you remember the first day that you came to work at the precinct? You told me yourself that you were there to bring the world to justice, and to make it a better place. Scum like these men need to be taken care of for that to happen."
"Dean Winchester is not scum, you bastard." He snarled, tightening his hold on Dean.
"That's bullshit and you know it, Castiel. He was hell on wheels, and you were on a dangerous road to nowhere. You should be thanking me for saving you."
"Leave. Get the fuck out of here." Cas responded, pressing his forehead to Dean's. Zachariah scoffed, muttered something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like 'faggot' as he walked back to his car to call for back up, but Cas couldn't be bothered to react. He was too busy running his fingers through Dean's hair, the tacky feeling of his quickly drying blood catching on the strands. The sound of sirens in the distance was lost as he sobbed. He sobbed until his voice was ragged and he screamed to the sky.
"Please?" He called, looking up at the stars as the first drops of warm rain pattered onto his tear and blood streaked face. "You can't..." He swallowed a sob. "You can't take him from me. I need him." He bellowed, pounding his fist against Dean's chest. The body in his arms remained still. "I need him." His voice fell to a whisper and he buried his face into the crook of Dean's neck. He would find out later that the paramedics and Kevin had to peel him off of Dean's body and shuffle him into the cruiser, but he didn't remember that. It was all a haze.
He didn't remember stumbling into the house in a fog, he didn't remember Sammy gathering him into his arms and asking where Dean was in a quivering voice. He didn't remember telling Sam that Dean was gone, and he sure as hell didn't remember Same putting his hand through the dry wall in the kitchen and screaming until his voice gave out.
He did, however, remember collapsing onto the couch next to the teenager and staying that way until the morning sun broke and he had to face facts; Dean Winchester was dead. The man that he was supposed to marry, and spend the rest of his life with, was gone. He remembered going through the motions of making funeral arrangements, and talking to the officers that repsonded to the call. They all brushed off his involvement as 'wrong place, wrong time', burying his transgretions under the carpet. However, the most important thing that he remembered was a single request.
Watch out for Sammy.