I'm alive…
I no longer have the right to promise when a chapter will be out. I'm really sorry about that. But bear with me. I'm doing my best. It's been months, I know. Months and months and months. I've been dealing with the loss of several people who were very close to me. I'm very sorry. I'll do my best to keep up.
! I've received some messages, and I just want to address this real quick.
I understand that some of the characters have been OOC. There's a reason for everything, remember. If it doesn't get explained in the story, I'll explain it at the very end, or you could PM me and I would be happy to answer things. Just keep reading, and remember that this is not only an AU to supernatural, it is also an AU to real life. For example, in real life, mostly doctors are unable to refuse life-saving treatment to patients who can't afford it. In this AU, they can do that. Please remember this as you read! Not everything will make sense right away, and feel completely free to ask questions! But please refrain from chewing me out for something before you know all sides :)
On this next chapter, I'm… sorry? This chapter will most likely will not be what you're expecting.
Good luck.
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…
For the whole next week, Dean stressed. It passed in a blur, and when he helped Sam through the door Friday after school, he was about ready to collapse. He settled on the couch next to Sam, making sure that the boy was comfortable and didn't need anything, and then he reached for the remote.
"What are we doing tomorrow?" Sam asked, and Dean paused. He glanced at his little brother, confused.
"Nothing, why?"
Sammy stared at him like he had gone crazy, and for a moment Dean thought he might be. What was Sam even talking about? "Dean. Your birthday? January 24th?"
Dean gaped at his brother, completely shocked. He had completely lost track of the date. The last time he had thought about his birthday was before the crash, probably close to New Years. How had almost a month passed so quickly? With Sam in the hospital and getting his Chemo and dealing with everything, Dean had completely lost track of his birthday.
"Oh." Dean said, sitting back against the couch. "Oh."
There was a pause as Sam looked pained. Dean watched, and his brother's voice got really quiet. "Did you forget?"
Dean didn't respond, but that was response enough. It was quiet for a few minutes before Dean said, "I… Do you want to go see a movie? Uh, invite one or two more people? Lunch, maybe. That burger place by the theater."
Sam smiled. "That sounds good. Who do you want to invite?"
Dean debated for a moment, before saying, "Invite Jess. I'll invite Cas, and it'll be fun."
Sammy looked like he couldn't hold back his smile. "Alright, I can email her. You gonna call Cas?"
Dean nodded and pushed himself up, stepping away and sitting on the loveseat instead of the couch. He speed dialed Cas's phone and touched the phone to his ear.
Cas answered on the second ring. "Hello, Dean."
"Hey, Cas," Dean responded, smiling. He liked Cas's voice through the phone. It reminded him of something that made him feel good. It was probably Novak. It reminded him of the way Cas sounded through the stereo of his car.
"What's up?" Cas asked.
"So, um, I was wondering if you were free tomorrow. Sam and I were going to the movies, and I think he was going to bring Jessica, and I was wondering if you wanted to come? Probably around noon."
He could hear Cas's smile in his voice. "Yeah, sure, sounds fun. What's the occasion?"
"Oh, no reason, we just wanted to go," Dean said. He didn't want to make it a big deal that it was his birthday, but he heard Sam exclaim loudly from the couch.
"Hey! No! Cas! CAS, IT'S HIS BIRTHDAY!" Sam interjected in a voice that was just shy of a scream, and Dean couldn't cover the mouthpiece of the phone in time.
"It's your birthday?" Cas demanded, "And you weren't going to tell me?"
"Yeah, I didn't want it to be a big deal-"
"Shut up, you get one birthday a year. You're turning nineteen, right? Okay. I have stuff to plan, I'll see you tomorrow at noon." And the line went dead.
"Cas?" Dean asked, though he knew the boy was gone. He dropped the phone from his face to look at the screen. "Damn it. Really, Sammy?" He asked, exasperated. "I didn't want it to be a big deal."
"Hey, I just thought he should know, and you weren't going to tell him."
Dean rolled his eyes and got up to make food for the both of them, wondering if Cas was going to get him a present.
As he slowly stirred noodles into boiling water, he allowed his mind to wander back to the tour. He had no idea what to do, and he had no idea what to do about it. After a glance over his shoulder to make sure Sam was still on the couch, he grabbed the bottle of whiskey from above the fridge and he took a couple large swallows, leaning for a moment against the cool edge of the appliance and feeling the warmth spread out through his whole body, burning through his throat and his arms and legs and fingers and toes. He couldn't wait for the day he could find a suitable replacement for alcohol. For now all he had was the cold neck of a bottle and this warm blurry feeling in his face.
As he stepped back to the stove, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He didn't bother checking the screen as he held it to his ear and spoke a "hello?" Into the mouthpiece.
"Dean," Dick said, and Dean raised his eyebrows.
"Yeah? How'd you get my number?"
"Sam gave it to me," Dick responded, and Dean opened his mouth to ask when, because Sammy didn't have a phone since the crash, but the man kept going. "I wanted to see if you and Sam would come with me to my speech tomorrow morning. Probably… Eight until eleven? I'll treat you both to breakfast, if you'd like."
A response didn't come instantly to Dean's mind. The man had to know that it was Dean's birthday. Did he actually just not know, or was he doing this because it was the older Winchester's birthday? Was this a punishment, or a treat? Dean had no way of knowing. Could he even refuse?
"Uh, yeah, sure, I guess."
"Okay, I'll pick you two up at seven forty five, then."
"Okay."
The line went dead, and Dean furrowed his eyebrows. Weird. He had no idea what to think. He still had no idea who this guy was.
When he sat down with Sam's food and a bowl for himself, he mumbled, "So Dick wants us to come to his speech tomorrow. He's going to take us to breakfast too, pick us up at seven forty five."
Sammy glanced at the clock, and asked, "Does he know it's your birthday? Did you tell him?"
Dean shook his head, and Sam frowned. "Hm. I guess we'll just see?"
"I guess so."
.
…
.
That night, Dean hardly slept. He lay in bed and turned on Thirteen, but he couldn't get himself calm no matter how long he laid there with his eyes closed. And the weirdest part was that he wasn't freaking out about his birthday. He was freaking out about the tour. He thought that once it was planned he'd spend half his time freaking out and the other half the time being excited, but he was hardly excited at all. He kept thinking about what would happen to Sam if he left. He couldn't just leave him all alone here. Not while he was going through Chemo. He had tried to bring it up to his little brother again, but Sammy would have none of it. He shut down every conversation that grew anywhere near that topic. Dean could see just how badly his little brother wanted him to go, but as the tour was getting closer and closer, he realized just how uncomfortable the whole thing would be for him. Every second he would be wondering if Sam was okay, if his incisions were bleeding again, if someone was helping him limp to his third hour class, if he was able to shower without falling, if his hands and feet were swollen like they had been for a few days.
Dean had begun to feel sick when he thought at all about the tour. And he had something all planned out, too, if he had to back out. It would crush Cas, he knew, but he knew that if he asked Ash to go as they not-technically-a-mechanic mechanic, Ash would be very excited for it. That way they still got to take their tour, and Dean didn't have to leave Sam.
But for now, Dean was ignoring it. He was hoping it would get better. They still had two weeks before the tour even started, and Dean had decided that if he ignored it, maybe it would get better. For now, it wasn't.
He slept in short little bursts through the night, but managed to keep himself away from the bottle of whiskey in the drawer, and he called that a win.
Dean climbed out of bed when he couldn't stand lying there anymore, groaning and rubbing his hands over his face when he saw the time. 6:45. He had an hour and fifteen minutes until Dick showed up.
He pulled on jeans and grabbed a t-shirt, leaving his feet bare as he padded quietly through the house. He had a load of laundry in the dryer so he could grab socks when his feet got cold, but for now, he would enjoy bare feet. The cool hardwood floor of the hallway felt nice.
Dean spent a half hour organizing the kitchen and Sam's pills, but it wasn't calming like it usually was. He found himself slumped in one of the kitchen chairs, staring at the tiny pills on the counter a couple feet away and spacing out. January 24th. He was officially nineteen. In one more year, he'd never be a teenager again. It wasn't fair, really. Five of his seven years that he had to be a teenager were gone, completely wasted in the back of the Impala and in motel rooms that smelled like cigarette smoke and regret.
"Dean?"
The older Winchester jumped and spun around, his eyes finding Sam, who was leaning against the doorframe. "Happy Birthday, Dean," His younger brother said quietly, limping to sit with him at the table. He set a small box on the table, and Dean smiled.
"When did you find the time to get this, huh?" Dean grinned, his fingers working through the newspaper wrapping. Sammy didn't respond, he just smiled a little bit and watched him open the present.
Dean popped the lid of the box off and stared at the bit of metal inside. He pulled it out and turned it over in his fingers… it was a ring? There was a W on the top, and on the inside in scratched out letters, it read, Winchester – family don't always end with blood – looping all the way around the center.
"Sam…"
Sam smiled wider and Dean pulled it onto his middle finger; it fit perfectly. "I had 'family don't end with blood' in there because it doesn't. You're a Winchester if we decide you're one. You and me, we're Winchesters. Dad… Dad wasn't. But Bobby was. You're family if we say you're family."
Dean pulled his little brother into a hug, tucking his face into his sweatshirt and trying to hold back tears. He never wanted to let go of his brother. He never wanted to lose his brother. He wouldn't be able to survive without him.
"Come on, I gotta get ready," Sam mumbled reluctantly, pushing himself up. "Dick is gonna be here real soon."
Dean nodded and let his brother go to get dressed, twisting his ring back and forth on his finger. He loved it. And plus, if he punched someone, it would probably leave a nasty bruise on his victim. Sam had managed to get him something that was nice, sentimental, and also a weapon.
He put socks on and pulled on his jacket, running a hand through his hair a couple times before deciding it was unmanageable and leaving it how it was. Hopefully not too many people would take pictures of them today. He was suddenly very self-conscious about his old clothing, the bags under his eyes, the three-day-old stubble on his face, his messy hair…
He ended up in the bathroom, shaving his face and actually brushing his hair until it looked a bit more manageable. He picked at his lips, at the chapped skin. There wasn't anything he could do about the rest of his appearance now, it was too late. He grabbed his little jar of Vaseline and stuffed it in his pocket. Good enough.
He was heading out of the bathroom when the doorbell clicked, and Sam headed over to open it. Dean saw that he was wearing one of his new hoodies, and a beanie that he had probably dug up from the bottom of his drawer. His hair stuck out a little bit on the sides and the back.
"Good morning," Dick said as Sam opened the door. "You guys ready to go?"
Sam nodded, looking for Dean, but stopping when he realized he was right behind him. "You got your pills, Sammy?" Dean asked, and the younger boy nodded again.
"Well come on then," Dick said. "I've got the car waiting outside."
It wasn't a car. It was a limo. Dick had brought a limo to take them to breakfast and the speech. God.
They headed down the walk and into the limo, as a man held the door open for them.
"This is Jeffery," Dick introduced, and Sam held a hand out to shake the man's hand, and the man smiled. Dean nodded at him while they climbed in and settled into one of the seats at the far end of the limo. Dick sat in the middle, and Jeffery got into the drivers seat.
"How was your night?" Dick asked, and Dean shrugged. Sam did as well.
"I slept alright." Sam said. Dean tried not to laugh. Sam just looked like he was lying. But Dick didn't pick up on it.
"That's good. I was thinking the diner on seventh for breakfast? My speech is at city hall… It shouldn't take any longer than an hour, and then a bit of talkback. Then I can bring you home."
"That sounds good," Dean nodded, his eyes on his feet. The limo was decked out, carpets and a small bar across from where they were sitting. It had little cups of water and a bucket with ice and sodas in it. Dean did everything he could do to not wrinkle his nose. Dick had been driving around in a limo with extra sodas in it while Dean thought his life was ending so he could keep Sammy's going. Dick had everything he couldn't want, and didn't know what it was like to want, or need something.
Breakfast was quiet. Dick tried for small talk, but Sam picked at his eggs, looking a little queasy, and Dean tried to keep him mouth full so he couldn't respond. Sam excused himself three times for the bathroom.
"Is he okay?" Dick asked as Sam disappeared once again to the bathroom.
Dean glanced at Dick like he was crazy before dropping his eyes again. "No, he's not okay. He has cancer. He can't keep food down, he throws up a lot."
"He's thrown up multiple times already?" Dick asked, eyes alarmed.
"No, I think he just doesn't want to throw up out here." Dean mumbled.
Dick nodded, looking at his food. His mouth worked open and closed like he was trying to figure out what to say. Dean shoved another forkful of his biscuits and gravy into his mouth.
When they finished, they climbed back into the limo and headed off to city hall. Sam was looking a little better, so Dean caught his eyes.
He raised his eyebrows a fraction of an inch; did you throw up?
Sam's head bounced back and forth, a miniscule shake of his head. Dean smiled a little bit. It was good the kid could keep down the little bit of the food he had eaten.
When they pulled up to the city hall, the man driving the car led them around the back and up a set of stairs to a fancy meeting room. Dean had never been in city hall, even though he knew it existed. He remembered driving past it in Bobby's car when he was little, looking up at the big building from the window and wondering what people could be doing inside. Now Dean saw that not much was happening inside of the great fancy walls.
Dick stood in front of a mirror and straightened his suit and tie, brushing a hand through his hair a couple times. "I'll be introducing you two. I don't need you to say anything, but if you would like to, I would advise against it, but I won't stop you. The media has a very good way of turning the things that you say against you."
The boys nodded. They wouldn't be saying a word. Dean tugged again on his jacket self-consciously, wondering how presentable he looked. He probably looked just like what he almost was, a high school dropout. He glanced at Sam, who still looked queasy, and was studiously ignoring eye contact with Dean. The older boy knew why. He knew that Sammy didn't want to see the worry that seemed to be constantly swimming in his older brother's eyes now. He didn't want to see Dean stressing over him, wishing that there were something that he could do to help when there was absolutely nothing.
Dick led them outside to the front step, just like in movies, and the boys sat in two little plastic chairs that had been set up for them. Dick stepped up to the podium, and looked out over… there was a crowd.
Dean didn't recognize any of the people in it, but there was at least a hundred people all gathered there. How did these people find out about this? But as he scanned, he saw two different news crews shooting from the crowd. Of course it was on the news. Dick Roman. What did he expect?
Dick waved once, and then leaned into the microphone. "Good morning," He said, his voice different, smoother, like he was trying to impress someone already. Dean was surprised he noticed a difference, wouldn't the man be trying to impress Sam and Dean as well? He was almost offended.
"My name is Richard Roman, and it's a pleasure to be with you all this morning." He smiled, which was creepy, and then kept on rolling. "I understand that this is off the topic of my speech, but I would like to formally introduce you all to Dean Winchester, and his brother, Sam Winchester." He extended an arm towards the boys, and Sam gave a nervous little wave. Dean felt himself slip into 'cool, unaffected and suave', and he sent a small smirk towards one of the cameras. His phone vibrated in his pocket twice, and he was glad that he had set it to silent. "I have taken these two boys into my care after the passing of their father in a car accident. They're tagging along to see what I do for a living." He gave a little smirk, and a small chuckle ran through the crowd.
He took a moment to organize the cards on his podium, and then he launched into a speech about the quality of the food at the restaurants that he owned. He didn't talk about Dean or Sam again, so Dean tuned him out, watching the people in the crowd instead. There were quite a few older people, looking like they had nothing better to do. There were reporters everywhere, scribbling in notebooks or holding recording devices or typing into their phones, their eyes intent on Dick. Dean realized suddenly how many different people cared about this guy, about tearing him apart or lifting him up. Now the Winchester children were just another piece of the game, another thing for all of these people to use against or for Dick. Dean suddenly couldn't wait for it to be over. His phone went off again, but he didn't want to be rude and text while the man paying for his brother's Chemo was giving a speech. So he left it in his pocket.
After a seemingly endless ten minutes of talking, Dick finished up with a simple, "Thank you for your attentiveness," And he turned and walked back inside, motioning for the boys to follow. Sam tried to stand and ended up needing Dean's help, the older boy winding an arm around the younger boy's waist and helping him limp into the building.
They followed Dick to a different meeting room, where they found both of the news crews waiting. They both looked ready to pounce, and Dick turned to the boys before they could.
"I will need to talk to them, and they'll want to talk to you two also. If you don't want to talk to them, that's fine, but if you do, that's okay also. They wont ask anything too hard, I promise."
Dean nodded, looking at the news crew. It didn't look too bad, just a couple questions… "I'll do the talking, if you want," He mumbled to Sam, who murmured back, "I can talk a little."
They headed towards the first news crew, but something suddenly hit Dean and he grabbed his brother's sweatshirt sleeve. "Sam, if the fact that you have cancer comes up…"
Sam dropped his eyes. "Yeah, I thought about that. That's okay. It'll get out eventually. If this is how it happens, that's okay, I guess."
"You sure?"
Sam only nodded, his eyes on the ground. Dean didn't push it.
A woman sat Sam and Dean down on a small sofa and faced them. A man pointed a camera at them. "So, Sam, right?" She said, motioning at the younger boy. "And Dean?"
"Yeah, I'm Dean, he's Sam."
"Alright." She glanced at the notebook in her hands. She had pretty eyes. Very blue. "Can you tell me what happened to your mom? Try to respond to everything I'm saying in full sentences, please, we'll be cutting my questions out."
"Oh, our mom died when we were really young." Dean responded. "I was four, Sammy wasn't even one yet. Fire in Sammy's nursery."
"Okay," She said, scribbling something down. Dean found himself staring at her hands. They were too… petite. Her nails looked like claws, all manicured into little ovals. Dean felt like they would be in the way if you tried to do… well, anything. "And you've lived with your dad since?"
Oh, shit. Dean flailed for an answer. He gaped a little bit, until Sam reached over and snapped his mouth shut with his hand. "No, we didn't live with our dad after she died. We lived with a family friend for a while, then with our Dad when the family friend passed away. When I started high school this year we kind of lived alone, our dad would come home to check on us every once in a while."
Dean was surprised how steady Sam sounded. He still looked pretty sick, but he sounded steady as a rock.
"You don't look so good, Sam, are you alright?" Dean was taken aback by how genuinely concerned she sounded. She seemed like a hyena, someone only interested in getting her answers and getting out.
"Actually," he mumbled, trailing off. "I'm sick. I, um…" His eyes flicked to Dean, silently screaming for help.
Dean took over, taking a deep breath to steady himself before starting. "Sammy has… uh, he had Carcinoma. Breast cancer. He had surgery to get it removed about a week and a half ago, and he just began Chemotherapy. He's been pretty shaky. Dick has been nice enough to pay for his treatment and hospital bill." Dean added, because why not help the guy out a little bit if he was helping them.
The reporter let out a little bit of a frantic noise. "Suddenly all these questions seem very shallow," she mumbled. "I think we'll stop there, then." She managed a smile. "Thank you boys."
The other news crew didn't get to talk to Sam and Dean, because Dick was standing there, and he led the boys out as soon as the reporter dropped the camera from their faces. They got back into the car, where Sam was quiet, so Dean was quiet, so Dick was quiet. It was excessively quiet in the back of the car until they got back to the Winchester home, where Dean helped Sam from the car, and they waved goodbye to Dick, and watched him drive away.
Dean twisted the ring on his finger, watching the man's car until it disappeared into the distance.
"What the FUCK!?" Sam suddenly exploded, doubling over at the waist. Dean panicked, thinking he was in pain or something horrible was happening, but Sam just straightened back up, a rock in his hand. He took a couple steps, as quick as he could, towards the street, and hurled the rock as hard as he could after the car, even though it was already gone. "WHAT THE FUCK!" He screamed again, grabbing a new rock.
"Whoa! Whoa, Sam, calm down, what are you tweaking about?" Dean demanded, grabbing the kid before he could wind up and throw his rock. The first one had clattered away in the street. Dean wasn't sure about Sam's aim, he didn't want to have to deal with a knocked out window or something.
Sam had tears streaking down his face, which was contorted in anger. "He's a fucking asshole," The boy sobbed, clutching the rock as Dean tried to pry it from his fingers. "He's such a fucking asshole."
"Sam, he didn't do anything wrong, I don't get what you're-"
"It's your fucking birthday, Dean!" This made Dean go quiet. Oh. "He's this huge guy, he has to know everything about us, he has to, there's no damn way he doesn't. And he didn't say happy birthday, he didn't get you shit, he didn't even treat you nicer than before. He's just an inconsiderate piece of shit!" Sam screamed, yanking his arm away from Dean and throwing his second rock down the street. Dean stood a foot or two behind his brother and watched the rock fly and skid across the cement, and then another and another until Sam was wearing out, breathing hard and hiccupping through his sobs.
He gave up on grabbing another rock and turned around, tears and dirt from his hands all over his face, and Dean hesitantly held up his arms. Sam fell into them, crying into Dean's shoulder, and Dean rubbed between his shoulder blades until he could calm down. It wasn't really a big deal to the older boy, he hadn't really minded. He was sure that Dick just wasn't aware that it was his birthday, and so he didn't even know that he should have said something.
When Sam had calmed down and pulled his face out of Dean's jacket, said boy led him into the house, where he settled him on the couch and grabbed a blanket.
"I overreacted," Sammy mumbled, his head down. "I'm sorry."
"That's okay," Dean responded from where he was grabbing some water for Sam. "I think you needed to get that out of your system."
Sam nodded when Dean handed him the drink, and he drank gratefully.
It was awkwardly quiet for a moment until Sam turned on the TV. Dean headed for the kitchen to grab some water for himself. As he was grabbing a couple of pieces of ice from the freezer, he remembered that his phone had gone off during the speech, and he pulled it out of his pocket to check it. There were three messages on his screen, and he scrolled through them.
New message from Blue Eyes White Dragon.
New message from Blue Eyes White Dragon.
New message from Gabriel.
Cas's first message read, I know this sounds super weird but I think you're on my TV. And the second one, just a minute later, said, OH MY GOD DEAN YOU'RE ON MY TV. Dean chuckled without responding. He could talk to him when he saw him in… Dean checked the time. Forty minutes. Gabriel's read, Since when does Dickface Roman have custody of you?
Dean quirked his mouth and texted back, why is he dickface?
He hardly had to wait at all for a response. Because he's killing our ecosystem with his stupid companies and doesn't care about anything except power.
Have you ever actually met him? Dean didn't know why he was defending this man he didn't know, except the fact that it kind of irked him that he had to be under the protection of this man and Gabriel was kind of making him feel like shit about it.
No. Sorry. I have a grudge.
Dean didn't bother responding, stuffing his phone back in his pocket and heading back out to the living room and Sam. Sam had turned on Buffy, and was watching, already deeply entranced with the show. Dean liked to picture that Buffy would make a good girlfriend for Sam. For some reason though, Xander had always been his favorite character, and he didn't know why. Maybe secretly, way deep down inside, he related to the uncomfortable, loser kid.
They were just at the end of the episode when a click sounded through the house, and Dean called out, "Come in!"
The door opened, and Jess stepped through, a grin on her face. "What are we watchi-?"
"SHH!" Sam managed, his eyes glued to the screen. "Buffy's fighting the she-mantis."
Jess slumped herself over the back of the couch, planting a kiss on the top of Sam's head, and fondly watching the boy watch the show. Dean watched her watch him, studying the way her eyes crinkled at the edges and her fingers slid through his hair. Dean felt an ache in his chest, and he turned his face away. If anybody were to ask what was wrong with him, he would have stuck his lip out like a six year old and said, nothing.
His phone vibrated, and he couldn't have been more grateful. He lifted it up to check the screen; incoming call from Blue Eyes White Dragon.
"Hey Cas. What's up?"
"Dean!" Cas sounded chipper and out of breath. "Is there any way you could pick me up?"
"When?"
"Whenever you're ready." Cas said back. "I'm ready whenever now."
Dean checked his clock; it was eleven fifty two. He probably wouldn't get Sam away from the TV until Buffy was over, and then they had to get him into the car and-
Oh shit! They didn't have a car! Baby was still sitting in a crumpled mess in the driveway, Dean had just barely gotten to rebuilding her.
"Cas, shit, we don't have a car. The Impala is still out in the driveway, all messed up…"
"Hey wait," Cas gasped. "Benny was actually on his way over here. Maybe he could pick you guys up and bring you over? Then I could drive us out to lunch and the movies? I actually," Dean could hear his sheepish smile. "I can't get my car started. I need you to take a look at it."
Dean chuckled. "Alright, that sounds good. How long until he gets here?"
"Probably like fifteen minutes?"
"Sounds good."
Cas said goodbye and hung up, and Dean turned back to where Sam was watching Buffy, his eyes still glued. Jess, however, had turned her eyes to him, and she wore a small smile. "Happy birthday," She said quietly. Dean just smiled back, mouthing, thank you.
She grinned and tossed a small box over Sam's head at Dean, who caught it on reflex. It was wrapped in newspaper, and he bit his lip and tore it open. Inside the box there was a small, smooth stone with an indent in one side. Dean picked it up and flipped it over, back and forth in his hand.
He looked up to Jess for an explanation, and she smiled. "It's a worry stone." She murmured, sitting down next to him and flipping it over so the indent was face up. She pressed his thumb into it. "You rub it for something to do with your hands, and you put all your worries into it. It can take it, because it's a rock. This one was mine from when I was really young. I thought you could use it."
Dean smiled at the blonde girl, oddly touched by the rock that he might have usually thought was pretty dumb. "Thanks, Jess."
"Happy Birthday," She replied, pecking his cheek.
Dean looked to Sammy, who was watching them, now that Buffy had ended. He wore a cute little smile as he looked at Jess, so smitten it was nuts. Jess noticed and grinned, going over to sit by him.
"I'm going to go grab my wallet and stuff," Dean announced, heading for his room. "No kanoodling!" He hollered back over his shoulder, and he got a laugh from Jess in response.
Benny honked his horn when he showed up, and Dean jogged to the door. "You guys ready?" He called.
"Yep," Sam grinned, and they headed out to the car. Dean decided to ignore the lipstick he could see on the corner of his mouth.
"Happy Birthday," Benny said cheerfully as Dean slipped into the back. "This is Andrea."
"Happy Birthday, Dean," She sang in a pretty voice, turning around a bit. Dean grinned at both of them.
"Thanks. Nineteen, almost to twenty." He announced, bobbing his head as Jess helped Sam into the car.
Benny turned on music as they drove to the Novak household, softly in the background. Sam and Jess chatted excitedly, and Andrea and Benny exchanged words in soft voices in the front. Dean was in a good position to see Benny reach over and put a hand on her knee, and she rubbed her fingers over his knuckles. It made Dean's chest ache. For some reason, his chest was aching with emotion a lot recently.
They pulled up to Cas's house and Dean jumped out first, Sam and Jess following when Dean told them that if he had to fix Cas's car, it might be a couple minutes. Benny and Andrea followed much slower.
"Cas?" Dean called as he got into the house. There was an odd silence, as if no one was around.
"In here!" He heard from a far corner of the house somewhere. He followed the voice to the garage, where he opened the door, and saw…
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"
Dean was having trouble taking it in. He was expecting something, he wasn't stupid, Cas was acting weird, but this was…
The entire garage was decked out. There were streamers thrown everywhere, and it looked like practically the whole family was in there, plus more. Naomi sat in the corner, looking vaguely amused, a party hat a little crooked on her head. Charlie lounged on one of the couches, along with… Lisa Braedon. The band was set up, and the non-band family members lounged around the room, grinning at him. Gabriel jumped up to him and snapped a party hat onto his head. Cas stood at the microphone, his guitar strung across his chest and pulling on his tank top a little bit.
"We wrote you a song last night, Dean. Dedicated to you," He said into the microphone, making his voice echo a bit.
"Cas wrote it," Gabriel clarified into his microphone as he returned to his spot, and Cas went a little red in his cheeks.
"Whatever. Here it is, anyways."
It started with piano and drums, no guitar. Cas grinned at Dean before lifting his mouth to the microphone.
I just wanna stay in the sun where I find,
I know it's hard sometimes,
Pieces of peace in the sun's peace of mind
I know it's hard sometimes
Yeah, I think about the end just way too much
But it's fun to fantasize
On my enemies I wouldn't wish who I was
But it's fun to fantasize
They dropped into the chorus and the others joined in on their own microphones, their voices blending to compliment Castiel's perfectly. Dean wondered vaguely how they managed to write this song in one night. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Cas to see what everybody else thought about it. He was just so… into it. It was fantastic. It was amazing to watch.
O-oh o-oh o-oh, o-oh o-oh oh, I'm falling,
So I'm taking my time on my ri-i-ide, o-oh o-oh oh,
I'm falling, so I'm taking my time on my ri-i-ide,
Then Cas did something Dean has never seen him do. He dropped his guitar to let it swing against his body, grabbed the mic in front of his face, and he rapped. But it wasn't like the rap that Dean heard on the radio. No, it was more like slam poetry. Something you'd never think you would hear in this setting, with the background music, and coming from this boy. Cas kept his eyes open for a few lines, but then dropped them closed and fell into the music, his whole body moving with it.
"I'd die for you," that's easy to say,
We have a list of people that we would take
A bullet for them, a bullet for you,
A bullet for everybody in this room
But I don't seem to see many bullets coming through,
See many bullets coming through,
Metaphorically, I'm the man,
But literally, I don't know what I'd do.
"I'd live for you," and that's hard to do,
Even harder to say when you know it's not true
Even harder to write when you know that tonight
There were people back home who tried talking to you
But then you ignored them still
All these questions they're for real like
Who would you live for?
Who would you die for?
And would you ever kill?
Dean was awestruck as they dropped back into the chorus again. He hadn't seen or heard Cas sing anything like this before. He didn't even know that Cas's mouth could move that fast. He opened his eyes and caught Dean's eyes, the blue shining. He sang through his smile, but it didn't mess the song up at all, not through the second chorus, or the bridge, or the chorus again.
The last chord faded out, and Dean started the applause. Everybody clapped too, but Dean put his entire being into clapping. He didn't know how to thank them for this.
"Happy birthday, Dean," Cas said quietly as the clapping died down, and Dean just stepped forwards and yanked him into a hug. Cas chuckled against Dean's neck, and hugged him back.
Everybody cheered, but it wasn't too loud for Cas to be able to hear Dean say, "Thank you so much," quietly into the singer's shoulder. He grinned his response into Dean's neck.
"Alright, lunch?" Cas asked when Dean pulled away. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving."
Turns out that Cas's car wasn't actually broken, it was just an excuse to get Dean to the house. Cas chuckled when Dean smacked him on the arm.
They got burgers and then walked to the little movie theater from them, going slow for Sam. He complained that he didn't need it, but Dean knew he was grateful as he limped along. It was okay, actually, because meandering along the sidewalk with Cas, a couple feet in front of Jess and Sam, who were hand-in-hand, with the sun shining and a smile on Cas's face as he watched Dean smiling, things felt okay. He felt like he could have a good day.
.
…
.
Cas drove Jess home and Sam joined her for dinner, and even though Dean was invited, he knew it would have been awkward, so he didn't go. So Cas drove Dean back to his house, and when they pulled up, Dean glanced at his little house for a moment before turning back to Cas.
"Want to come in?"
Their lips were locked together before the door was even fully shut, and Dean pinned Cas against the wall next to the door, holding his wrists above his head and trying to find wherever that song had come from in the singer's mouth with his tongue. Cas chuckled darkly like he knew exactly what Dean was going for, like he wasn't going to find it. Cas pulled Dean's jacket off his shoulders, and Dean helped him yank it the rest of the way and toss it somewhere behind him. Dean growled and worked a knee between Cas's legs, pressing forward and grinding into the boy. Cas gasped into Dean's mouth, and Dean took the opportunity to delve deeper into his mouth with his tongue.
Then Cas was pushing back, walking them down the hall and to Dean's room, where he pulled Dean down onto the bed without breaking the contact of their lips once. They lost their shoes somewhere in the hall. Cas worked his way down to Dean's neck, where he explored his collarbone with a fascination for how hickeys stayed, leaving little red marks in a trail down as far as Dean's shirt would let him. Before, Dean had been a little against hickeys, but only because of what his dad would say if he saw them. Dean tangled his fingers into Cas's hair and arched his back to press them together harder, welcoming the distraction.
Dean flipped them over so Cas was more on top of him, and he yanked on Cas's shirt until he pulled it over his head and tossed it to the floor.
Dean had to pull away and stop to stare at the art on Cas's body, completely distracted for a moment. There was just so much of it; there was a long barreled gun, and the music staff that spiraled down turned into a waterfall that crashed against the musician's hip, and a circle of flames surrounding a star, and a-
"Do you want to see my favorite?" Cas asked, his voice even lower and more gravelly than normal. The sound went directly to Dean's dick, and he nodded, his mouth dry.
Then Cas climbed off of him, and Dean instantly regretted it. "Wait, just kidding, I-" He stopped short, because Cas had turned around, and Dean had a full, front row view of the large expanse of feathered wings tattooed across Cas's back, like they were tucked up against him. Dean reached up and traced his fingers across them, grinning when Cas shivered. He pushed forwards and kissed his way lightly down them, his tongue just barely touching the boy's back. Cas reached around behind himself to fist his hands in Dean's shirt, pulling them tighter together.
Dean dipped his fingers down the back of Cas's pants, chuckling when the singer sucked in a breath. Dean wasn't sure was he was doing, he had never done anything with a guy before, but he was slowly making a map of how Cas moved and breathed under his fingers and mouth.
Cas turned back around, dropping his weight back onto Dean's hips and pushing them together. He pulled Dean up so he could pull off his shirt and toss it behind himself. Dean found himself grinning as the singer dipped down to press their chests together, finally skin on skin. Cas pressed his mouth against Dean's again, running his tongue across the Winchester's lower lip, a small whine escaping him as their pants caught against each other.
"Pants," Dean gasped, and Cas nodded his agreement. He slid down and expertly flicked Dean's fly and button open. His fingers curled in the hem and he pulled them down, slow and dragging, never once breaking his eye contact with Dean, making the boy's chest go tight and his dick throb. The boy got his pants to his knees, though, and had to look down, laughing, because he couldn't get them any further. Dean laughed and pushed himself up so he could help him get them the rest of the way off.
Cas flipped over and made quick work of getting his own pants off, tossing them to the floor to join Dean's before rolling back over and bringing his face very close to the tent in Dean's underwear.
Dean gasped as the boy mouthed the bulge through his underwear, his fingers tangling in dark hair and his toes curling. Cas's fingers slid underneath the elastic of Dean's boxers, his hands still kind of chilly. He dragged his underwear down, his eyes again intent on Dean's, like eye contact was necessary as Dean's dick got caught on the band of his boxers and bounced against his stomach. Cas discarded the underwear behind himself on the floor, and then turned his eyes to Dean's dick, like he was trying to decide where to start. Dean felt his dick twitch as Cas gently picked it up with his thumb and forefinger.
"Dean," Cas breathed, and Dean caught his eyes. The blue was overwhelming. Once Cas was sure that he had Dean's attention, he swallowed Dean down in one go, and Dean was lost.
Cas was an expert at this. Dean wouldn't have been able to describe it, if someone had asked him about it later. Just one thing he knew was Cas with his tongue lapping sinfully up the underside of his dick, and then the next thing he knew, his vision was whiting out with his orgasm. Cas took it like a boss, swallowing over and over again around Dean's rapidly softening dick, until Dean was spent.
Cas crawled up the bed and stretched out next to him, a grin on his smug face. "You enjoying yourself?" He wiped the corner of his mouth on the back of his hand, his eyes twinkling. Dean huffed out a laugh.
Cas kissed him, his tongue barely touching the tip of Dean's, giving him a taste of himself. It was odd, salty, almost. Dean felt weird that he wasn't repulsed by it.
Cas seemed pretty content to just lie there and kiss him, even though Dean could feel the hard line of his dick pressed up against his hip. He unsteadily placed a palm over it, completely unsure of what to do. Cas gasped into his mouth, and, encouraged, Dean slowly palmed him through his underwear.
The singer's hips stuttered, grinding into Dean's hand, and he dropped his head to Dean's shoulder. Dean pushed his hand into his boxers, wrapping a fist around Cas and watching as the boy caught his breath. It was a beautiful thing to watch.
It was easier than he expected it to be, he just did the same thing he would have done to himself, adding a twist here or the press of his thumb there to keep Cas from falling into the rhythm. Cas gasped out Dean's name, his hands fisting in Dean's hair and pulling their mouths back together. His hips jerked up into his hand, stuttering and jerking forwards as he was suddenly pulsing all over Dean's hand.
The singer collapsed on the pillows, breathing hard. His hair was wild, pointing every direction, and Dean found himself chuckling. Cas pulled him down and kissed him again, nothing too deep or heavy, just the shallow press of lips on lips.
After a minute, Cas dragged them up and into the bathroom, where he quickly cleaned them off, and then back to bed, tucking Dean in and then cuddling down next to him. He touched his lips to Dean's, and then smiled. "Happy Birthday, Dean." He whispered.
…
.
This took me so long. I am so so sorry; it shouldn't happen again, I have the whole story outlined. But I'm in college now, and I am super overloaded with homework. I'll do my very best to get a chapter out every two weeks. Thanks for reading, guys! Leave me a review; let me know what you thought! (If you're not a porn person, sorry. Just skip over it, it's not going to be a super big part of this story.)
Hugs and Kisses
-Sami