Sorry, sorry, sorry this took forever!
Anyway, this is a heavy one - put your reading glasses on.
Chapter 9
"Divine Intervention"
He'd never say it, but going to sleep beside Castiel had been granting Dean's wish for peaceful, nightmare-lacking sleep without fail. Something about the comfort of having him beside him, knowing he was there, and knowing he didn't intend to get up and leave put Dean at ease. This led to well-rested, comfortable awakenings. He would breath deep and stretch and if Castiel's back was to him he would nuzzle his head into the man's back or hair - like a total girl. But he couldn't deny it was a nice way to wake up, and it was something he'd never had before. He'd been thankful for it every day they'd woken up together.
So when Dean awoke suddenly from the disorienting feeling of an increasing pressure on his arm, he immediately knew something was off. Before he could register what it was, it was starting to hurt. He opened his eyes, blinking them into focus as he felt something was wrong - Castiel was gripping him too tightly, his fingers locked around Dean's arm with bruising force. And he was pressing his face hard into Dean's chest. Everything registered slowly to Dean, as was still half asleep, but the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach was quickly sobering him from the peace of his slumber. His voice barely rasped out, "Cas?"
But Castiel didn't move. His deathgrip remained on Dean's arm, the pain of it becoming sharper as Dean's consciousness revved up. That's when Dean noticed the sharp bursts of Cas' breath against his chest, and the harsh shaking of his body. His brain snapped to attention and he pried the former angel from him so he could get a good look at his face. He wasn't ready for what he saw.
Castiel was pale, paper white, dark circles under his eyes and cheekbones, making him look sunken and sick. His lips and teeth were stained dark red with blood - it was all over Dean's abdomen, down Cas' neck and chest. "Oh my God - shit, shit!" Dean didn't even bother to hide the utter panic. He rolled Cas onto his back and Cas looked like there was something he wanted to say - but all that came out were desperate staccato gasps, and a spattering of blood. Dean leaned over him, they stared into each others eyes both knowing there was so much that needed to be said. They always thought there'd be another chance, that they'd know it was coming, that they'd sack-up last minute and get it all out. This wasn't right, it wasn't fair, they'd had no warning.
Cas reached up and clutched Dean's hand in his, Dean's stomach turning even as he gripped Cas' hand tightly, because the feeling of the blood making their hands slick and seeing how it dyed them red made him feel sick. Castiel held firmly onto Dean, his jaw set tightly. Looking into Dean's eyes, he suddenly felt strangely resolved. When. This was Cas' last chance to show what he was made of. His last chance to exude grace and bravery. He'd known this was coming. He was shaking all day yesterday, he'd coughed up blood, he just couldn't bear to tell Dean. And now, here he was, a vice in his chest seeming to literally squeeze the life out of him while this beautiful man laid above him with panic in his eyes.
Castiel looked at Dean calmly, his face relaxing even as his chest puffed desperately in the instinctual struggle for air. He wanted this to happen like he had some control over it. He wanted to keep it together, for Dean's sake.
Dean looked down at Cas he could see the strength in his eyes; he could feel Castiel being strong, and he nodded at him, his eyes feeling suddenly hot. He fought against that - he fought everything back. He just held Cas' hand, kept his eyes with his own, and pretended to be strong too.
It was a few minutes before Castiel's lungs just couldn't work any harder, just couldn't take any more. They were agonizing minutes and Dean spent everyone trying to memorize him, and wracking his brain for some last minute miracle. Dean hovered over Cas, running his fingers through his hair, making comforting sounds and impossible promises - It's ok, Cas. You're ok. I've got you... Cas' breath slowed to a stop, his eyes never leaving Dean, whose presence making it easier. He felt unafraid and un-alone, and that was all he'd wanted. With his last strength he pulled their clasped hands to his chest to let Dean know he wanted him closer. Dean leaned down and pressed their lips together simply, for the last time.
He pulled away to see Cas' eyes closed. Dean laid down beside him, never letting go of his hand, and snuggled into the crook of his neck. He felt Castiel's face turn toward his hair. He thought he felt his lips press into it.
They laid like that until Cas was gone. Dean felt the former angel's chest still, his heart still, his fingers loosen around his own.
It was over.
No more dreamless nights, no more comfortable mornings, no more lovers' comraderie - no more Castiel.
Dean laid there for a long time after he was gone. He laid there staring at nothing, feeling the body beside him, not entirely able to reconcile that it was no longer Cas. Maybe this was a nightmare. Maybe if he didn't move, maybe if he prayed really hard, maybe if...maybe...
Dean was simply not able to get up. It felt like time had stopped and he was the only man left in the world.
Downstairs, Bobby was at the stove whistling to himself as his breakfast sizzled and popped in the frying pan. He turned to get something out of the fridge when he saw him and froze. Sitting at the table, Sam saw Bobby go stone still, the look on Bobby's face putting a chill in Sam's blood. He turned to see what had startled him and was met with a sight he would never forget - Dean was standing shirtless, in a complete daze at the bottom of the stairs. His chest, hands and forearms were bloody...and his lips. His eyes were glassy and unfocused. He swayed on his feet.
Sam warily approached his brother. Bobby set down his spatula, pulled off his apron and tossed it aside and hurried over as well. Sam put a tentative hand on his brother's shoulder, "Dean?" Sam noticed it took a long time for Dean's eyes to find him, and that frightened him.
"He...I couldn't...What..." was all Dean could get out, barely a whisper. It was hardly words at all. Then his eyes drifted again.
Fearing the worst, Sam ran up the stairs and swung wildly into the spare room to find Castiel already gone. He looked at the fallen angel lying cold on the bed - if there wasn't a sickeningly gray pallor to his skin, he would almost look peaceful. But then again, Castiel was covered in blood, the sheets were already turning brown with it. For a brief moment Sam wondered how long his poor brother had been lying there with the corpse of his closest friend. He stared at Cas, once indestructible. Once threatening and powerful and quirky. Now just...silent. Gone.
Sam turned away from the image, it didn't really compute in his mind. It would be better to think about Dean; easier in a way, to worry about his brother than to let his thoughts marinate on the fact that they'd just lost someone.
Sam clamored back down the stairs, seeing Bobby lifting Dean's bobbling head with a finger under his chin in hopes of getting him to meet his eyes. He held Dean's face in his hands, "Look at me boy," he said gently. "Dean, come on, look at me." Sam came up beside him. "He's in shock," Bobby said quietly, the worry in his voice not hidden. "Cas?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
Sam shook his head sadly. Bobby understood. They'd known this was coming, but somehow it didn't make it any easier.
The state Dean was in was hard for Sam to look at, and as he did he had to fight the urge to vomit. Bobby looked at him with nervous eyes and Sam's brain was racing - what if Dean was really broken this time? How many friends was he gonna have to bury? How many times would be too much?
Bobby left Dean in Sam's capable hands and went upstairs to Castiel. Sam led his brother to the couch, pulling him gently by the arm. Dean sat with his head bowed, still utterly detached from reality. He was lost in his own mind, and when he looked up again it felt like years had gone by, though it was only minutes. His little brother was on his knees in front of him with a washbasin of warm water and a towel that he was using to dab Dean's face. Sam pressed the warm cloth to his brother's lips, trying to be gentle, but also desperate to remove Castiel's now dried blood before Dean caught a glimpse of himself and was further traumatized.
They were silent. Sam's heart broke for his brother. Every time he found something good, something simple, the universe just snatched it away.
Sam took Dean's hand in his, turning it over and running the cloth over his palm. Dean looked down at the action, entranced. He watched closely, like he didn't understand it. His mind was everywhere and nowhere all at once and it left him dangerously confused and unfocused.
Bobby came back down the stairs and immediately went to the kitchen. After a few long silent minutes he came in and stood in front of Dean, holding out a steaming mug. Dean looked at it as if it took his brain a very long time to process what he was supposed to do with it. Then he slowly took it, letting it warm his hands - he hadn't noticed they were cold.
Sam and Bobby went to the kitchen and spoke in hushed tones. Dean didn't bother to over hear them. After a moment he suddenly stood up and Sam rushed back into view, having heard him move. "Dean?" he asked worried. But Dean threw up a hand, like a wave. He wasn't sure what he was trying to say with it - I'm fine maybe. Or Stop talking. Or Leave me alone, perhaps.
He ignored his brother's apparent concern and trudged silently to the shower.
Sam hoped Dean would cry, he needed to, but he didn't. He couldn't. He only watched Castiel's blood swirl away down the drain and felt a disturbing pain of regret that he was throwing away the last part of him. But he didn't cry.
He got dressed and went downstairs, walking right past Bobby and Sam, who stood when he came in, watching him like he was explosive. Dean didn't spare them a glance as he went outside, grabbing an axe and starting in on a pile of wood. Sam and Bobby watched from the porch. It didn't even look like he was taking his frustration out on the wood - he was just chopping. Methodically. Calmly. It was unnerving.
He built a pyre quickly, the process going quicker when Sam silently came out and joined him. Dean couldn't help his brain knowing what Bobby was doing inside - getting Cas ready to burn, wrapping him up. Like they'd done with their father. Like they'd done with Bobby's wife. Like they did with everyone they loved. In the end, the fire always took them - Mary, Ellen, Jo, Ash. Everyone eventually. Now, even the one person Dean had foolishly been relieved to think would be impermeable to the Winchester curse.
As if Dean had conjured him with his thoughts, Bobby came out and whispered to Sam. Dean could hear but he pretended not to; "If he wants to see him, he should do it now," Bobby whispered. Sam went over to his brother, arguing with himself internally about how he should say this.
"Dean? You can... go and see him now. Say goodbye. Look at him one last time before... Bobby wraps him up."
Dean stopped chopping and thought for a minute. He didn't know if he could do it, look at Cas with no life in him. But his brain told him he needed it, that he should see him once more so the last image he had of him wasn't of Cas straining to breathe and covered in blood.
He dropped the axe and went inside.
It felt like walking the Green Mile. Every step took an eternity. He got to the spare bedroom... and there he was.
Bobby had done a good job and Dean was appreciative for the time he'd taken; it was obvious he'd cared for him. He'd cleaned him up and washed his hair and combed it. He'd put him in a dark blue button-up and black slacks that were nicer than any of them had ever worn in life. The irony of that almost amused Dean. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Dean thought that blue shirt would make Castiel's eyes really shine.
Like this, Cas almost looked like he was just sleeping. Dean stood beside him, looking down into his passive face, noting how his skin was so pale and perfect and it made his eyebrows and dark eyelashes stand out in contrast. With nothing to stop him now, Dean let himself admit that Castiel was beautiful.
Something was off though...Dean squinted down at Cas until it hit him. His hair was combed back off his face, and while it made him look very handsome, it didn't look like Cas. Jimmy Novak, maybe. But that's not who he needed to say goodbye to. Dean reached down and mussed his hair gently, letting his fingers run through the soft strands a little too long.
It was dusk when Sam, Dean and Bobby stood in front of the fire, the heat and smoke burning their eyes. Sam leaned on a longer piece of wood, staring at the monstrous though well-crafted pyre they'd constructed. His face was full of regret. He wished he could have saved him, done something. And he could feel Dean beside him, not crying, not moving, just...there.
Dean felt Sam looking at him. "Aren't you going to say anything?" Dean asked staring forward his eyes glazed over and distant.
"What, like a prayer?" Sam asked.
There was a moment of quiet while Dean worked up the courage to say it - "About why he was in my bed. Why we were together."
Sam watched his frighteningly numbed brother barely put an effort into instigating. "No," Sam said, in a definite tone. Maybe there was more he should say, he thought, but that would have to do for now.
Sam knew the truth. Bobby knew too. Dean saw that now. The truth was out even if it had never been put into words and that was all Dean needed to know. The rest of the night was spent in silence, as minutes turned to hours and the fire began to die down. Sam and Bobby left Dean alone with the remaining smolder, not sure if it was the right thing to do or not, but knowing he wasn't ready to leave it.
It was almost five in the morning when Dean found his way up Bobby's porch steps into the house. It felt almost wrong to leave the ashes that had once been Cas, but he just couldn't sit there any more. He made it to the living room, but didn't know what to do with himself after that. He just stood there, awkwardly, exhausted but not wanting to sleep; awake, but not wanting to think; sad, but not letting himself cry; angry, but too tired to break anything.
When he felt a slight breeze blow through the room, and heard the ruffled sound of wings, it felt like a steel knife to his heart. He squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel a presence in the room, but didn't dare acknowledge it. He wanted it to be Cas, and he knew it wouldn't be.
"Heya Dean-o." Gabriel's cheery words sounded strange in such a gentle and hesitant tone. The angel could feel Dean's heart sink at the confirmation that he was not Castiel. "I need to talk to you."
Dean let out a cold laugh. Why am I not surprised? he thought bitterly. It was like Heaven knew exactly when he was hurting most and was sure to never let him have that moment to himself. "What could we possibly have to talk about?"
"You."
Dean turned toward the archangel and stared at him with empty eyes. "I'm not in a chatting mood."
"No kidding," Gabriel's sarcasm attempted to bring a lightness to the air of the room that simply couldn't be acquired.
"Explain something to me," Dean started, barely keeping it together, "how does God let all of this happen? How does Castiel save the world, then save Heaven, then drown to death in his own blood? Does He care? Does He even know? Explain to me, how nothing is fair."
Gabriel's eyes were sympathetic. "That's what we need to talk about Dean. You're life has been unfair."
"No shit. I don't like to sit in a corner and pity myself, but damn..."
"I know."
"Do you?" Dean shot.
"Maybe more than you do," Gabriel admitted.
Dean cocked his head at the archangel. "What the Hell does that mean?"
Gabriel took a deep breath and shifted his weight, there was so much the Winchesters had been kept in the dark about. But now it was time to tell some truths - "Things were supposed to be different for you Dean. You would have been a different man, had a different kind of life, if we hadn't dragged you into our celestial pissing match. There was a whole other plan laid out for you where your mother never died, your brother never got used like a freak demon pawn, where you never even knew we existed and you were normal and intellectual and sensitive and in love. You went to school and played football and had a blissfully unremarkable life. Sam too. He was meant to marry Jessica. You were gonna be his best man, by the way. Your father was gonna walk her down the aisle in lieu of her own father's absence. You were gonna pay taxes and have kids and worry about cholesterol. Castiel was gonna go on eternally and contently ignorant of human emotion. But none of it happened like that, because of Azazel. Because of us. We insisted on dragging you into this thing with Michael and Lucifer. That all screwed up the life you could have had. Granted, you did save the world. So I guess everyone was right about you after all. But it doesn't change the fact that you've given a lot. More than you know, I think. And we can't go back. But we can try to make it right."
Dean just stared at Gabriel, the hurt of knowing everything their family could have had, but never did, pulling and tearing at his already threadbare heart. "Why are you telling me all this?" he asked his voice shaking, genuinely not understanding Gabriel's angle.
"The point is, the man you were intended to be would have just let himself love and be loved. Love would have been easy for him - for that Dean. Not so much for you. You've seen too much to let yourself."
Dean was taken aback by the bizarrely accurate insight into his psyche. He generally tried not to think about himself abstractly like that, so it was strange when Gabriel hit the nail on the head with such ease.
Gabriel continued, "Now that you've lost Castiel, you realize how you could have been happy and the labels and logistics of the relationship wouldn't have mattered. Right?"
Dean knew that he was right, and he didn't have it in him to argue, "Yeah, well...too little too late."
"Maybe not."
Dean just squinted at him. He was too tired, too over all of this bullshit to bother asking for clarification.
"You had to experience this, Dean. You had to know what you could stand to loose. I know, it was horrible. And I'm sorry for that." And damn if that didn't sound sincere.
"I don't understand what you're saying to me," Dean sighed, his brain so sluggish with exhaustion.
"I'm not here to rub salt in your wounds Dean. I'm here to heal them. You get something everybody at some point prays for, but never gets - Divine Intervention." Gabriel took a moment to let those words sink in. He saw it ever so slowly dawning on Dean, and Gabriel almost smirked, "God wants Castiel back on the map."
Gabriel could barely handle the overwhelming volume of emotion that he could feel flare in Dean's soul at the suggestion that Cas may not be gone forever after all. He tried to lighten the mood with his never ending supply of diffusive charm, "Now quit your brooding, Batman. Not to worry. I'll bring him back good as new."
Dean stared at him, disbelieving, "You'll bring him back...back to life?"
"Uh, duh. They guy's my brother after all."
"But you said...I thought you couldn't..."
Gabriel shrugged. "I lied."
Dean stared at him again, trying to process that information, but finding he simply wasn't able. It didn't make any sense.
Gabriel saw he was utterly perplexed and rolled his eyes, sighing. "I'm an archangel, jackass. You think I can't raise one little human? Dean, honestly... You're gonna give me a complex."
"You said he wasn't human. You said you couldn't."
"Yeah. And then I said, 'I lied'. Keep up, will ya."
Dean's brows were knit as he asked, "Why? Why would you do that?"
"Because things play out a certain way for a reason. There were things you had to understand about yourself, epiphanies your pea-sized brain had to come to naturally that my saving him before schedule would have thrown off track."
There was a moment of quiet and then Dean seethed, "...Don't."
Gabriel was confused by his reaction. He should be ecstatic, right? Maybe the human had misheard, "Dean-" he started to explain but was cut off.
"Don't. Don't you fuck with me about this," his words came out like acid and his eyes were feeling hot again. He choked it back.
Suddenly Gabriel understood. Dean always looked at Gabriel as the trickster, it stood to reason he'd be hesitant to believe Gabriel would do something so mammoth, so good, just out of he kindness of his heart. Dean couldn't stand to believe it if it was just another trick. "You're really gonna bring him back? You can do that? Right now?"
"Those are the orders from upstairs," he nodded.
"So...then, you just let him die? You could have stopped it all along - You could have saved him that pain!"
"You're not listening, Dean. It had to be this way."
Dean tried to understand that, but all he could think was that this month of frayed nerves, Cas suffering and literally dying, and choking on his own blood, this was all part of some scheme? Yet another Heaven-orchestrated manipulation. Dean was seeing red, "Bring him back now you son of a bitch." His voice was as harsh as it got.
"Watch you're tone with me, hairless monkey," Gabriel's tone was light but his eyes betrayed the underlying irritation.
Dean's eyes were glassy, he shook his head at Gabriel. His voice was low with emotion as he accused, "This was cruel."
Gabriel took a moment to observe this man, this very complicated man, before answering. "This was a lesson."
Dean shook his head harder still, not heeding the warning in Gabriel's tone. "How could you do this? Not just to me, how could you do that to him? Let him die - like that - how could you? You heartless dick!"
Dean's sadness was turning to rage right before Gabriel's eyes and he wasn't the slightest bit surprised. He kept his cool, "Perhaps you haven't noticed - I'm not subtle. Not about anything. There was a lesson here, as I said. And you've learned it. Now I give you a second chance." He stepped close to Dean and his eyes were sincere as he said, "Don't waste it."
"What the Hell are you going on about a lesson! What lesson!" Dean was starting to yell. He just wanted Cas back already.
Gabe was really starting to get irritated that Dean's was missing the point, "God, you're thick Winchester! Here, let me spell it out for you in crayon: You. And Cas. That's the lesson."
Dean simply stared, so Gabriel continued, "You've saved this world, you've done your part and you've suffered for it. Cas has given everything for the greater good, and he's suffered for it. Then you finally found each other in the dark and it was pretty damn good, wasn't it? But if you'd had the chance to, you'd have screwed it up eventually. So I showed you what you could have, if you let yourself and didn't get in your own way. So... Consider this reparations from upper-management."
This was all too much, Gabriel could feel the overwhelming weight of it all on Dean's soul. The poor man was literally doubting his own sanity. Gabriel tried to explain, "It's rare, that my father's got anything to say. We're usually floating around in a sea of questions - what does he want? How do we be good sons if we barely know him? I know you know what that's like. But I'm pleased to report, he's been watching after all. Cas was right. He didn't forget. He's not ignoring us. He's not ignoring you, Dean. This is my father trying to give you what you've always wanted - a soul mate. A best friend. Someone to love, who loves you. What you always should have been allowed to have."
Gabriel smiled at him, and Dean allowed himself to believe, just for a moment, that maybe, as Castiel had said the first day they met, good things do happen.
Gabriel backed away from Dean a few steps, a sly smile on his face and raised his hand - when Gabriel snapped his fingers, Cas appeared between he and Dean, dressed in the blue dress shirt and black slacks, sleeping standing up but otherwise looking alive and healthy.
Dean stopped breathing. His heart jumped into his throat. He stared at Castiel, unable to move, unable to think.
Cas opened his eyes sleepily, and as they peered around Bobby's living room they looked bluer than ever. When his eyes landed on Dean, a slow smile spread across his face. He looked at Gabriel and asked, "Is this Heaven?"
Gabriel just looked between the two men and rolled his eyes, "Carpe Diem, boys." His shot them a silly smile, which after a moment faded into an etherial, affectionate gaze as he said, "Be happy."
Then with a gust of wind and the sound of wings, he was gone.
Dean didn't wait, he went straight to Castiel and hugged him tight, the tears he'd been desperately holding in all day finally slipping out. He couldn't help it. He felt Castiel's hands softly travel up his back. Cas chuckled lowly and Dean pulled away to look at his face. His smile hadn't faded. He said, examining Dean, "You feel very real."
For a moment, Dean thought his heart would explode, he felt it throbbing so hard in his chest. Dean hooked his hand behind Cas' neck and pulled him in for an almost violent kiss - the kind of kiss that really says everything you're too clumsy to get out with words. When they parted, Cas' eyes were glazed over and he blinked slowly at Dean. "Very real..." he whispered.
Suddenly Dean laughed. It was loud and abrupt and exploded out of him without warning. It surprised the crap out of Cas, who raised his eyebrows at this strange man. But Dean couldn't help it. What a friggin' day. What a month. He didn't know whether to run laps or sleep for a week. He was ready to burst at the seams with the overwhelming amount of emotion he was feeling. Dean looked at Cas, and the former angel noted that the laughter put a spark in his green eyes that made him look like a happy, simple, younger man. Castiel thought that seeing Dean happy was a perfect way to spend eternity.
Dean dropped a hand heavily on Cas' shoulder and said, "This isn't Heaven. This is South Dakota."
Cas' head tilted to the side as his brows furrowed. He remembered dying, every awful moment...
"You're not dead, Cas. Gabriel brought you back. You're alive."
Cas' eyes drifted around the room as he processed that. Could this be real? He argued, "I was dead..."
"And now you're alive," Dean said impatiently, gripping him tightly, as if poised to shake the reality of the situation into him if necessary.
Cas smiled as he accepted that it might actually be true. It did feel real after all. This Dean seemed far too accurate to be a facsimile, and Castiel was well-aware of the limitations of Heaven when it came to re-creating something Earthly. He looked at Dean, taking in the sight of him from top to bottom. Honestly...he looked horrendous. He was pale and exhausted and his eyes were red and he looked half-crazed and a little like he was tweaking. But in his uniquely-Dean way, he was still beautiful.
Dean could see he was being observed. Usually that kind of thing would make him uncomfortable. But not today. "You thought you were in Heaven? When you...saw me?" he asked quietly.
"Yes," Cas admitted, flatly and honestly.
Dean felt something spilling over inside of him, a flooding warmth in his chest, something he'd been fighting all his life. But he couldn't fight it anymore - or rather, he didn't bother trying. In that moment, he let himself fall in love. And it felt good. It felt better than anything else he'd ever felt. And suddenly there were thirty-some-odd years of relief flowing through him now that he'd finally let go and just let himself feel what he'd always wanted to feel, but had never been brave enough to. It was never the right time, and never the right person. That was different now. And it lifted a weight of solitude from his soul. He leaned his forehead against Castiel's as he wrapped his arms around his waist. Dean took the first truly full breath of his life as he pressed against his former-angel, breathing in the scent of him and just feeling him there at his side.
"You know you never get to leave me again now, right?"
Cas smiled widely, letting out a quiet laugh.
He never would.
