xxxxxXxxxxx

Chapter 13- "Dawn"

"Excuse me forgetting, these things that I do.

See I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue.

Anyway the thing is, what I really mean.

Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen."

~Elton John "Your Song"

xxxxXxxx

The noise was loud, people passing by walking into the diner. Each time the door opened, the greasy delicious smell of burgers and fries blew out. juxtaposed at the entrance of the diner there was also a covered drive in station for cars.

"Here you go," the car hop in her pink cardigan sweater and tight black cropped pants lowered her tray. She picked up the orange baskets of food, and handed them over to the two kids sitting on the roof of their black car. "One cheeseburger, extra onions." She handed that basket to the younger of the two. A cute looking kid, with a long mop of dark hair. "And one triple bypass with extra bacon and curly fries." This one went to the teen, a lanky looking kid in a brown leather jacket.

A wicked smile too old for him played on the teen's lips as he accepted the burger basket from her. "Thanks sweetheart."

She took his money with a bit of an awkward smile and left.

"Dean, that was lame." Sam settled his burger plate into.

"You're just a kid Sammy," Dean argued, picking up his burger half wrapped in paper. "What do you know?"

"I know enough to know that she's not gonna fall for something like that." Sam picked at his burger, pulling apart the lettuce from in between the meat and the bun.

"You gonna eat that or dissect it?" Dean eyed his kid brother who was doing everything but actually eating the burger.

Sam gave him a bitchfaced look; but it dissolved a moment later when he picked up the burger and took a bite. The taste that exploded on his tongue- it wasn't like an burger from McDonalds. It was –

"Amazing huh?" Dean said around a mouthful of masticated burger in his mouth.

Sam's mouth was too full to answer without spraying food, but he nodded in the affirmative.

"I knew this place would be good when I smelled it." Dean said it like he had single handedly built the restaurant. He took another bite of his burger, talking, again, with a full mouth. "So how'd you like the movie?"

"It wasn't that scary-" this time Sam's mouth was full too. A piece of lettuce plopped on the paper cradled in the orange basket. "Ghosts don't act like that."

"It's just a movie," Dean surmised. Huge pieces of onions and lettuce fell into his basket, and he picked these up with mayonnaise stained fingers and dropped them in his mouth. "But it was kind of lame," He watched Sam's give a look of silent 12-year-old affirmation as he chewed another bite of his own burger. "Carol Ann's done this for three movies already. She should've run faster than some dumb ass ghost car-"

Sam gave a grunted laugh this time, which turned into a half choke.

Dean whacked him once on the back. "Chew your food."

"Shut up," Sam said clearing his throat.

"Here," Dean lifted up his paper soda cup and handed it to Sam. "Wash it down."

Sam took the cup and took a pull from the straw.

"You good?" Dean eyed him with a concerned look.

"Yeah," Sam looked up from his hacking. His eyes were slightly watery, but the look was still happy. "Real good Dean." Sam didn't want to go back to their crappy motel-of-the-week with the fuzzy cable and the lumpy beds. "This is great Dean, thanks for taking me-" Sam's voice dropped away, but a genuine smile took its place.

Dean shrugged half a smile, pretending for a moment to be annoyed at Sam for being such a little girl. But the smell of the onions, the warmth of the metal of the Impala under him, Sam's denim clad legs beside him on the hood – it made all that dissolve. "No problem Sammy."

xxxxxXxxxxx

Dean's side felt aerated; and it burned like it was lit on fire. Leaves from the ground were jammed into it which made the wound scream in agony.

"Sam?-"

Fallen Cypress branches were scattered everywhere, some of them massive, almost the size of the trees themselves.

"Sammy?" Dean crawled to the still shape sprawled against the base of the tree.

Sam was covered in blood, his face white even in the darkness.

"Hey!" Dean grabbed Sam's shoulder's and Sam jerked.

"Easy," Dean said pulled one hand back, a gesture of surrender to show Sam that there wasn't a threat. "Take it easy-"

"Dean?-" Sam coughed, hard, a fist size amount of blood dripped out of his mouth and made him pant for breath. His eyes dropped to Dean's side where the blood was stained against his side. "You-" His eyes flew to his brother's face, and his hand reached out to examine the wound.

"It's nothing," Dean pushed Sam's hand away.

Sam's eyes were defiant "That's not nothing-" he reached his hand out again, but Dean slapped it back.

"Told you I'm fine," Dean's voice was growl, one that he tried to keep the grimace out of. "We got her, Sam. We did it. That's all that counts." Dean looked over Sam. He was bathed in blood, but the only visible wound was the one on his leg; a half shredded crater torn at the base of his knee.

Dean didn't even know where to begin to put his hands. "We gotta get you out of here."

Sam panted watching his brother. "Dean I can't walk-"

"It's okay," Dean argued. "I'll carry you out of here-"

"Dean-"

The voice wasn't Sam's.

Dean glanced up and behind him to the figure in the wrinkled suit and tan trench coat.

"Cas?" His voice was half disbelief, half relief. The angel was standing right over them, watching them.

Cas looked over them both like a medic who was assessing the awful carnage of war. He reached out his hand to touch Dean's forehead.

"No-" Dean's voice was insistent. "Do Sam first!"

Cas glanced over at the younger man. His breathing was heavy and hard and blood was coating his lower leg.

A look settled over Castiel's face. Not one particular to angels; but particular to Cas. "Dean-"

"I know you can't heal the Trial's crap," Dean said this with a harsh grind in his voice. He glanced a long glance at his brother. "Just fix him as best you can. I can take care of the rest-"

"I can't," the angel watched Dean's face turn. Even with a bleeding gut, the anger on it could not be dimmed.

"Fix him!" Dean's cry was as raw as exposed steel girders scraping against each other.

"The Final Trial; no matter the injuries it puts Sam beyond the reach of any angel-" Castiel's eyes became ancient, sad. "I'm sorry-"

Dean stared at him. There was a disbelief in his face, heavy like a stone being held up by one hand. "Where?-"

Castiel's expression cut off Dean's words; the unspoken passed between the angel and his friend.

The disbelief melted off Dean's face and became something else. A resolve forged out of 34 years. "Go," he told the angel.

"Dean," Sam's voice reached him. "No, shut up!" The last words were a plea, not anger.

"Dean," Cas's mouth opened and closed like a landed fish.

"Keep us together," Dean's voice was a wet sound, but it still carried. "You understand?"

Cas's mouth opened again, a thousand utterance fighting to come out. But they all lost out over the silence that closed his mouth.

The flap of wings became like a breeze as he vanished.

Dean turned towards Sam. There was such a look on Sam's face that it cut through the darkness like its own light.

Dean pushed himself closer, a hand braced to his gut. He could feel a sticky mass of internal organ against his palm. "Sam," Dean pulled himself up so that he was leaning against the tree, facing him. His expression was sorrowful. "Don't you get mad at me."

Sam turned up his eyes. "Why?"

"Because you're my brother."

Dean watched Sam's eyes close with a long heavy breath and when he opened them again the look was piercing.

"I can't stay here without you anymore," Dean's voice was thick from the pain in his side, and from someplace much deeper. "I can't," his voice broke, just for a moment. "I'm sorry – I'm sorry I dragged you into this entire thing."

"You didn't," Sam's voice was failing at the same rate as Dean's. It waved in and out like a breeze. "I wanted to come," The hazel in his eyes shifted to a blue/green; cloudy, but still colorful. He felt a pressure on his wrist; and looked down from his haze of pain and saw Dean grasping his wrist.

"You did real good Sammy." Dean's traced Sam's wrist with a calloused thumb. "You know what really sucks?" Sam gave him half a look, but he didn't wait for him to answer. "I'm really gonna miss my room."

A dried sounding laugher erupted from Sam. In the middle of it Dean joined in, both noises echoed into the night.

The laughter ended when Dean stared, long and hard at his brother. He scooted the remaining distance until he was right up next to Sam and pressed a kiss in between his eyes; a few tear drops hitting Sam's skin. He drew Sam to him; smelling the blood and the forest rot on him; his body warm.

Sam couldn't move his lower body anymore; couldn't feel his legs. But he managed to sneak an arm out and pat Dean on the chest; and he left his hand there, and felt the beating of his heart.

A breeze had begun to pick up, warm with the hint of summer in its movement. For the first time since they had come into the wood, a trill of birds began to whisper a low cadence of songs.

"Wanna watch the stars?" Sam asked like it was a random night from days past, when they were allowed a few moments of freedom.

Dean didn't answer with words; he gazed again at Sam. He tightened his grip on his brother and turned his eyes upward to the night that had become dazzling in their absence from it; a myriad of stars painted the sky like diamonds.

Sam followed Dean's gaze upwards to those same stars.

And they watched them until they watched nothing at all.