Tech service is kinda awful here in the south...
Chapter 7
When Dean stepped into the kitchen the next morning, it was to instantly draw a gun and point it to whatever creature had taken his brother's face and obviously fake short hair. The fact that Jessica was calmly sitting on a chair, a coffee in her hands, did very little to explain the situation to Dean.
"Hey!" Sam exclaimed, hands up in surrender. "You still asleep or something?"
"Who are you and what have you done to my brother?" Dean asked, totally serious. "How did you even manage to find and enter the bunker?"
"Should I worry, puppy?" Jessica wasn't sure how far a joke between the Winchesters could go.
"It's ok, precious. Dean, stop playing and put that away already."
Sam ignored Dean's incredulous snort and sat down beside his lover, both leaning a bit into each other and smiling. After a moment of hesitation, Dean decided that nobody else in the world could master a bitchface like his little brother, and thus he had to be the real deal, hair or no hair. The red glint in the blonde's finger was another clue that something important had happened last night between them.
"What the hell happened to your hair?" Dean couldn't wait a second more to know.
"I asked Jess to cut it for me."
"You WHAT?! I've been telling you to cut it for years, and suddenly you decided it by yourself? I think I'll go fetch some silver and iron after all."
"I have my reasons, so stop pestering me. Go eat your pie like a starving animal as you usually do."
"I do not!"
"You actually do, Dean," Jessica chirped happily.
"Shut your pretty face, blondie," Dean replied jokingly. "Don't think you'll get any preferential treatment as my future sister-in-law."
At this, Jessica's gaze all but caressed the engagement ring now adorning her hand. A wave of shyness put some pink on her cheeks, but the smile she tried to hide behind her mug was still visible. Sam's silent answer was another proud smile of his own, and the older Winchester didn't really know what to do with the sudden chick-flick atmosphere.
"Okay, you two lovebirds. I'm going to stuff my face with breakfast and gag at you putting up a rom-com scene as a mere spectator, since I want no part in it."
"Whoa, it's true you can really be a jerk, Dean," Jessica chuckled.
"Don't you know it, bit-... No, wait. I can't be calling you that. We'll have to think of something else to call you."
"Why would you need to call me anything?"
Dean's grin immediately faded. That question had sounded so... so Cas. Same Cas that was currently MIA, doing who knew what and where, and ignoring all of Dean's calls and messages. Hoping that the angel was safe and still alive, and just too busy to check with his best friend.
"Name calling is just another term of endearment to Dean," Sam explained. "Though it's only between us. Don't let him drag you into it."
"Hey, I wouldn't be calling a lady any nasty word. I can be a gentleman too, mind you. I respect women."
"Unless they are witches, right?"
"Dude, they deserve any nasty word you address them as, ladies or not. They're all... yucky."
"Don't let Rowena hear you say that. I'm sure she'll make you regret it."
A bit of fear crossed Dean's face, but the hunter rapidly masked it as annoyance, throwing a pie crumb at his brother in a very childish gesture.
"Okay, kids. Before this develops in a full-front food battle and I get stuck in the middle of it, I'm going back to my room." Jessica stood up and kissed Sam lightly. "Since, you know, my sheets need changing and all that."
Now it was Sam's cheeks that turned pink, while Dean remained there with eyes open wide and a half-munched pie in his mouth.
"Really?" he barely whispered, although the woman was already out of earshot. "Did that mean what I think and hope it means? Did you and Jess... finally?"
"Yes, Dean, it's exactly that." And Sam was just too much happy to also feel embarrassed. "It happened yesterday, after I gave you back the Colt. I went to talk with Jess, and... well, you know how it goes."
"Dammit, Sammy, that's awesome!" Dean swallowed and grinned. "Congrats, man! It was about time, really. And what's with the ring? Are you really going to tie the knot together?"
"Just... just hold your horses there, Dean. It's not that simple," the younger Winchester sighed, raising his hands in a placating manner. "Yes, I proposed last night; and yes, she accepted, so now we are engaged. And also yes, we... we slept together. But aside from that, Jess and I talked about a few things."
"What things?"
"I think we solved any possible misunderstandings about our mutual feelings. We still love each other and want to stay together, but there's more than that," he explained, running a hand through his now short hair. "I proposed to her because it's something I always wanted to do, and Jess accepted because she would have back in the day, but we know we can't have that dreamed life anymore. I'd like to marry her for real, but I'm not sure we can, considering both of us are officially dead."
"Oh, please, like that's such a big deal," Dean waved a hand, dismissing the issue. "Haven't we falsified tons of documents? We go around shoving fake FBI badges in people's faces, for hell's sake! What's a fake 'Alive' file compared to that?"
"Yeah, that would be nice," Sam said softly, like he believed it was just wishful thinking.
Dean frowned, feeling there was more to it.
"Spit it out, Sammy."
"Jess mentioned wanting to go back to college. Finishing her major, finding a job, earning some legit money..." he laughed a little. "That's a lot of false documents."
"Yeah, that's true," Dean leaned back in the chair. "It also means distance. Getting far from here, from you."
"I want Jess to be happy," Sam blurted out, hastily and sincerely. "It's the only thing that matters."
"Not to me. While I'll be glad for Jess if things turn out well for her, I care that you are happy too."
"I'll be happy as long as she is. Whatever happens."
The atmosphere in the kitchen had gone from pink to sour, and both of the brothers noticed it. Looking for a way to lighten the mood again, Dean focused on the other astounding fact of the morning.
"And what's with the hair? Don't think you're coming out of this kitchen until this X-File is solved too."
"You sure you want to know?" Sam laughed. "I warn you, the answer is extremely cheesy and chick-flick alike. You might not keep it in your stomach if I tell you."
"Go on, I'll manage somehow."
"Well, the truth is... I like long hair. I mean, that I liked Jess' long hair when we lived in Stanford. I loved her and loved her long, curly hair. Every time, after we made love, we cuddled together and I caressed her long hair, again and again. And when she died... eventually, I started to miss the feeling, both the love and the touch of her long hair. So, I let my own hair grow, though of course it wasn't the same."
Dean allowed himself a little smile.
"So now that you got your babe back, you finally can look like a man again? That's always good news in my book, dude."
This time, the breakfast crumb flew in the opposite way.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
When Castiel came back to the bunker, the mood was more than grim. Sam had tried to make it light, but Dean was far beyond pissed to follow the game. The fury, the disappointment, the worry... and the hurt. It was just too much to take at once, and the angel's very evident guilt in his face made it all the worse. Dean couldn't stand it, he wouldn't stand it, so for once in his life he chose to retreat instead of facing the truth. Whatever truth that was, he wasn't sure, but he was afraid of it.
That, however, hadn't worked all too well when Castiel followed him to his room instead of leaving him alone. The pitiful angel had even tried to give back the cassette, the one gift that Dean ever gave him. It had pulled some strings in his heart to understand that very likely the seraph didn't know how gifts worked because he never received any, and then Dean just... mellowed. It was just above him, to remain angry with his best friend, and specially now, knowing what other things had already transpired between them. So, like always, the hunter eventually gave in and forgave him.
Which was the reason Castiel found himself once again in front of his door, the ominous weight of the Colt hanging accusingly in his pocket, carefully hidden. He had taken it when the hunter went to get a beer, and now, when he was just about to go away again, felt the irrepressible need to talk to him one last time. Because Dean would notice quite fast the disappearance of the Colt, and he would know for sure it had been him. And then it wasn't going to be pretty.
"Dean," Castiel called, knocking on the door. "Are you sleeping? I... I would like to talk a bit more. I mean, if it is not too much of a bother to you, of course. If you do not want me in your presence, that also would be understandable."
The door opened with an old sound that could use some oil, and a still kinda annoyed hunter let him in, closing again after he entered.
"I apologize for delaying your rest," Castiel stuttered, looking at the still full-dressed human. "You probably need it."
"Yeah, well. Nothing new under the sun*, right?"
"Dean, Sam has just informed me of everything that has happened since I went uncommunicated, and I want to...
"Cas, stop," Dean smiled sadly, shaking his head. "Just stop apologizing already, man, because... Listen, you know what? I think I should be the one saying sorry."
"Why do you think that, Dean?" Castiel frowned. "You have done nothing wrong."
"Maybe I did. Yeah, really. Because I look back, and since the moment you pulled me out of Hell, you always gave up everything for us. For me. And that never ended in anything good for you," Dean recalled, averting his gaze from the very blue eyes that always seemed to hypnotize him. "And I guess I grew complacent, believing it would be the same forever, like... like you are some kind of puppet that only moves when I pull the strings. But you're not, Cas. You're your own person, with your own wishes, your own ideas... and I can't expect them to always agree with mine. Here, look at us now: you go by yourself and I get so mad at you."
There was silence for a minute, Castiel trying to correctly interpret whatever Dean was saying to him. It wasn't easy.
"Dean, are we discussing the same subject yet?"
"This isn't going to work, Cas," Dean continued, deliberately ignoring the question. "It has never worked for me. It failed with Cassie, it failed with Lisa and Ben... it had failed so many times with Sam too. So better to stop it here before it actually begins, because..." he breathed deeply, "I don't know what I'd do if it failed with you too."
"My... my apologies, Dean, but I am not quite following your point."
"Happiness, Cas. I'm talking about happiness," the hunter spelled it out, exasperated. "Whenever in life I try to get something good for myself, it always spits me in the face. This obviously won't be any different."
Castiel couldn't stand it, finally figuring out where this was going. Eyes wide open in heartbreaking realization, he launched at the crestfallen human, gripping him tight by the shoulders and pushing him against the wall. Dean grunted a bit, it had been a long time since the angel had used his supernatural strength on him, and he wasn't expecting it.
"Dean, please," Castiel whispered a desperate plea. "Get mad at me all you want, yell at me, show me no respect if you must... but I beg you, do not load this onto your shoulders. I will not allow you to blame yourself."
"Cas, what the hell..."
"You are worthy of happiness, Dean Winchester," Castiel didn't halt the pouring of his heart. "Please, stop with this self-deprecating crap you always put yourself through, because it hurts me deeply. Being the Righteous Man or not, that does not matter. You are a righteous human by your own right, Dean, and you deserve to be happy. And I... you would not believe how honoured I would feel, if I could contribute to even the smallest fragment of said happiness. Because I love you, as much as an angel can love."
Dean was looking so intensely at his eyes, like trying to find the truth or lie of such statement in them. The earnest angel didn't know what else to say, so he decided to stop talking and start acting.
He closed his eyes and kissed Dean.
Dean gasped in surprise, never imagining the seraph could try something like this on his own. This was their third kiss yet, but the first one that Castiel initiated. Like the other two, it was innocent enough, since he didn't dare to go for more than what Dean was comfortable offering. Brushing their lips together in tender pecks again and again was already more than what the angel ever hoped to get from the hunter.
"I am afraid too, Dean," Castiel confessed softly against his mouth. "You are not alone in this. Every second of our lives, we seem to be in one dangerous situation or another. I came to believe that there is no perfect time for anything, there is no use in waiting. So whatever happens, Dean, and whenever that happens, I will be grateful and never regret it."
It hurt Castiel to say those things, as sincere as they were, knowing that in a matter of minutes he was going to flee with the Colt and disappoint Dean again. But the hunter didn't know that yet. At this moment, it was still okay for Dean to keep even the littlest faith in him that Castiel long ago convinced himself not to deserve, but craved anyway.
"Cas..." Dean tried to answer, but no words came to him.
Frustrated for that, he decided to shut up and follow his-best-friend-maybe-something-more's example, and kissed him back.
It wasn't the same as the previous times, though. Dean wasn't in the mood to be soft and tender, he was furious and agitated. He was uneasy and hurt, and that showed in his kiss. His passion flowed through him to his lips, where he touched Cas' once more and didn't let go.
Dean raised a hand to the angel's chest to get a fistful of fabric, pulling him closer. Castiel's grip on his shoulders relaxed, following the Winchester's lead over his mouth. They kissed hungrily, and then... barely the tip of Dean's tongue dared a lick, meeting the seraph's. Castiel yelped at the sensation, but the sound was suffocated in delight even before leaving the cavity of his mouth; it felt hot, both physically and figuratively, and nice enough to deserve imitation.
The hunter groaned in satisfaction when Castiel's shy tongue darted out, meeting his in a timid greeting. Just a second of stalling expectation was enough for both men to fully leap into the kiss, breathing heavily and tasting each other like thirsty castaways. Dean tasted like the beer he had been drinking an hour ago, a little tinge of bitterness mixed with the permanent sweet flavour of the pies he constantly ate; Castiel was indescribable though, merely cool and fresh like the purest water.
"Dean..." Castiel murmured, trying to catch his breath when their make out session became calmer. "Please, tell me what this means."
"I... I still don't know where this is going, Cas. Sorry," Dean replied, honest. "But like you said before, I'm not waiting anymore for that perfect moment that we never get. We... we simply take it as it comes, ok?"
"Alright, Dean."
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The silence in the car was heavy. Despite the rain the day before, the morning had dawned clear and cloudless, but inside the Impala the mood was as dark as the leather seats.
Sam tried to stretch a bit, but it wasn't easy with the limited space. His back ached and his arm was still numb for sleeping on it for several hours, not precisely in a warm bed but on the cold and wet ground of the park where Castiel had left them. Looking briefly at his brother, he was sure Dean wasn't aching any less, but in his case the heart pain was probably worse than any other on his body.
"You know Cas didn't..." he tried to say.
"Don't," Dean stopped him sharply, not taking his eyes off the road. "Don't even start. That... that thing, it wasn't Cas. I know it better than anyone."
"Yeah," Sam muttered, sighing. "Just wanted to make sure we're of the same opinion."
It had been a hard, low blow for both of them. Castiel stealing the Colt and following a plan without them because, once again, he had put his own safety after the Winchesters'. Then Lucifer's spawn had sensed it, and very likely had taken advantage of the angel's good intentions to taint his beliefs into who knew what twisted lie in order to protect itself.
"I don't know what I'm gonna tell Jess about it," Sam added, absentmindedly touching the pieces of the broken Colt. "They've become pretty close."
"Just tell her the truth. Painful but easier in the long run."
"Do you really think that?"
"... No."
Of course not. Painful truths were never easy, and they didn't get any easier over time. It simply didn't work that way.
Clenching his hands on the wheel, Dean wondered how long it would take him to overcome this new wound. Castiel had declared his love for him again, but still, it hadn't been enough to make him stay; for once, it hadn't been enough to make him choose them, but there's always a first. Whatever trick the mini-Devil had used, it surpassed everything.
Dean was cursing at himself in his mind. If only he had known earlier what was actually going on with Kelly and Heaven's plan, maybe things would have turned out different. Castiel wouldn't have to steal the Colt, Eileen wouldn't be currently depressed about the lost bullet, Joshua would still be alive... they could have merged their plans somehow and figure out a better outcome.
"At least Dagon is dead now. That's... another big bad demon out of the game board," Sam acknowledged.
"Sure."
"Dean..." he sighed. "You know I don't blame you, right? For not putting the Colt back in the safe. You... you're not the only one that feels better having a certain weapon at reach, even inside the bunker. For me, that's Ruby's Knife. Maybe not enough to make me hide it under my pillow, but still."
"You don't blame me?" Dean snorted. "Well, I do. And you should too."
"Actually, it only made me wonder how much acquainted is Cas with your bed."
The little attempt at joking didn't have the desired effect, but at least it put the faintest of pink on Dean's cheeks. Too bad his freckles camouflaged it quite well.
"Haa, I wish this would only be a nightmare..."
A wish.
Now this, this made a few gears start running inside the older Winchester's head. Was is perhaps that simple? Should he use Amara's gift for this? With all that had been happening, the idea of using that black pearl never crossed his mind. Actually, he had completely forgotten about it... until now.
"Hey, Sam. What you just said, about wishing it away... do you really mean it?"
"What?"
"If you could make a wish, would you do it?"
"No, Dean," Sam answered immediately. "It was just a figure of speech. I wouldn't wish it".
"Why?"
"How why, are you serious? With all the supernatural crap we've dealt with? Wishes aren't real. There's always some sort of curse behind them, or the mockingly deception of a djinn."
"No, I-I know that, but... if there was a safe way of having your wish granted and for real, in the exact way you hoped for it to happen, without tricks or loopholes or anything... wouldn't you do it, Sammy?"
The younger brother considered it for a while, looking doubtful, most surely taking into account all possible consequences.
"I think not, Dean. Even having all the possible assurances, I still wouldn't do it."
"What? Why the hell not?"
"Because... if it was really something so difficult to get or impossible to happen that I couldn't do it by myself, and the only way was an extreme supernatural wish... then it's probably because it isn't mean to be."
"What kind of conclusion is that?" Dean almost fumed. "It's what wishes are for, aren't they?"
"Well, I guess, but..." Sam tried to explain better. "Remember everything we've gone through, all the times we thought we were done because there was no way to get out of it or make it right... and yet we did. Somehow, every single time, we found a way and we did it. Many times with help from others, of course, but... it was for real. It wasn't a wish, no matter how impossible it looked."
"Because it was meant to be, that's what you're saying?"
"Yeah, because it was meant to be."
Dean let his mind wander for a minute, frowning and pondering his brother's words. Meant or not, he had a way to make it real. Having all that power from the Darkness at his will, wouldn't it be stupid not using it eventually? But on the other hand, things never had gone very well for any of them whenever they held a bit of immeasurable power.
"You still remember we're Team Free Will, right? No 'Believe in fate' crap?"
Sam merely shook his head.
"Why are you asking, anyway?"
"No reason," Dean lied. "Just wanted a distraction. Something to argue about with you."
The younger hunter didn't look very convinced.
*Nothing new under the sun = nihil novum sub sole ;-)
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