Chapter 35: Goodbye (Until We Meet Again)

Note: I'm afraid we are approaching the end of this story. :'(

Despite his bone-deep weariness, Dean finds it difficult to sleep. He slips into a fitful rest and wakes up with his heart thundering in his ribcage. So, he lies awake and wonders how different life would be, were he not a hunter. When he was four, he wanted to be a fireman. He had expressed this wish to his parents and John had bought him a fireman's hat and fire trucks to play with. He can't be sure if his parents would have agreed with his career choice now -had they been alive and had life been normal for all of them. But it was quite thoughtful of John to entertain his idea as a child. So, Mary dying in a fire ran deeper than he'd ever admit. He knows now, that as a 4 year old, there wasn't much that he could have done. He did the best he could; he grabbed his brother and fled to safety. But growing up, he often blamed himself. What sort of fireman was he if he couldn't save his own mother? That dream burnt along with Mary. And that was the last time he ever had a dream of his own. He didn't spend time wondering who he could be in the future anymore. He could never be a doctor, engineer or lawyer. He couldn't have a permanent shelter or a wife and kids of his own. So, he never indulged in such thoughts. Instead, he became everything his family needed him to be; an obedient son, a protective brother and a fierce soldier.

Now that he lets his mind backtrack into the territory that was once strewn with caution tape, he wonders what his mother would have thought of him if she could see him now. Would she have liked who he became? What would she have expected of him? He doubts that she would like him. She would have been disappointed in him. He is no better than the monsters he hunt. He has sins he can't confess, guilt he can't bury and self hatred he can't swallow.

She wanted him to be a doctor. She used to buy him plastic medical kit to play with. He liked it back then. He could imagine himself being a doctor if not a fire fighter. She taught him how to read , write and count. She would give him reading exercises in the evening before he can play because she wanted him to be well-read. He learnt one new word a day. At the age of four, he was smarter than most kids his age. His IQ was equivalent to that of a 6 year old child who attended pre-school. He was a sociable kid too; his playmates loved him. Even friends of his mother adored him.

For once in his entire life, instead of pushing away thoughts of his past, Dean allows himself to think, 'I could have been so much more.'

And he's right. You see, Sam is always looked upon as the smarter brother between the two because he always puts effort in gaining knowledge. There is no questioning Sam's intelligence. He got a full ride to Stanford University despite constantly moving around. He has the patience of a God in researching for information and has an eye for details. He is well-read and can carry an intellectual conversation with philosophers if he ever gets a chance. However, contrary to popular belief -and that includes Dean's self perception- the older hunter isn't stupid. In fact, he's far from it. If Dean were concerned about his studies, he could have been academically excellent too. But unlike Sam, he never had the privilege of allowing himself to work hard for anything other than keeping his family alive and together. While Sam spent his weekends finishing up homework in whatever cheap motel that they stayed in for the week, Dean trained -under the critical eyes of his father- skills that were considered necessary to defend himself and his family. Dean perfected his aim and gun firing skills instead of studying text books. He only passed his GED with whatever he learnt from Sam's homework and from the knowledge he picked up with the minimal attention he had, in whatever class he was forced to sit in. He sawed off his own shotgun in sixth grade. He even constructed an EMF meter from a walkman and rebuilt the Impala from scratch once the car was damaged beyond repair. His favourite authors are Kurt Vonnegut and Harper Lee, for the love of God. Whenever he could find time to get cosy with a book, he does. He finds an escape in the world of fiction. Besides, he feels a little closer to his mother when he reads.

However, he was never looked upon as brilliant for any of his efforts because as John would say, it's unimportant for their survival. Success only revolved around a good hunt. Everything else is irrelevant. He has created a reputation as the brawn to Sam's brain. He is often regarded as the one with the barge-in-with-the-guns-blazing attitude and he wears it like a medal. He never focused on his self development. As a teenager, he didn't want to. He took pride in resembling his father. He bragged about being a hero. But the price he had to pay isn't worth any of it. There is so much more to Dean Winchester than being every monster's deadliest nightmare. But the world will never see it because he himself doesn't believe there is more to him than that.

Yet, the one thing that Dean is certain he's good at is being a brother and a caretaker to Sam. If all else fails and the world dives head-first into cataclysm, there is one thing Dean can do. He can save Sam. Or he can die trying.

The next morning, Dean faces a distraught Sam the moment he walks out of the shower.

"What?" Dean asks.

"You should take a look at this," Sam says urgently and walks over to the table that plays the role of the living room in the boathouse.

"I was surveying for electrical storms and stuffs, you know the usual kind. And I came across one that happened last night. So get this, electrical storm, unpredictable weather, animals going crazy like a deer practically ran into a car instead of the other way around, flocks of birds migrating and stuff. And this is where it gets interesting. I quote, …a blast of light that illuminated the state of Maryland for approximately a minute. Sources have confirmed that the light emerged from—"

"St. Mary's Convent," Dean finishes for him as he peers at the article himself.

Sam turns his head away from the laptop to look at Dean. He wears the same terrorized expression that he had when he was 10 and encountered the sort of monster that he believed only existed in his nightmares. John -who was wounded and unarmed- shouted, "SHOOT, SAM! PULL THE TRIGGER!" He couldn't move, he couldn't breathe. His hands were tight around the gun that he pointed forward and he was shaking so bad that he would sooner shoot John than the thing that stood before him. He shut his eyes tight as it lunged towards him and only opened them when he heard two gunshots. It wasn't from him though. He exhaled sharply and blinked a few times before turning to his right to find Dean with a cold, hard glare staring down at the remains of the atrocious creature while still gripping the sawed-off, double-barrelled shotgun.

This time is not that much different. Sam is forced to face his greatest fear all over again –because it's quite obvious by now that fate never sides the Winchesters- and he feels helpless and terrified. Again, he finds himself waiting for his brother to figure this out.

Dean says with a clench in his jaw, "Pack up, we're going."

An hour through the quiet drive, Sam breaks the silence by asking, "What am I gonna do if Lucifer comes for me?"

"He won't," Dean assures.

Sam snorts and looks at his brother in disbelief.

"That's all you've got? He won't? Geez Dean, thanks for the reassurance."

"He won't cause he can't. You're not drinking demon blood. Your vessel can't contain him."

"But how if it doesn't matter?" Sam asks quietly.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"I mean I used to drink demon blood. Gallons of it. How if that's enough?"

"You said the trials purified you, remember?"

"It felt like it, yeah."

"Then, you're gonna be fine. He gotta ask your permission to wear you to prom. If he comes after you, you say no."

Sam laughs bitterly and shakes his head.

"In case you don't remember, Dean, the devil could be quite persuasive. You think he's gonna stop once I decline?"

"Then, you keep saying no." Dean glances over to the passenger seat to meet Sam's eyes briefly.

His voice is unwavering when he says,"You say no every single time, Sammy. You hear me?"

Sam nods determinedly as he looks down at his hands. He doesn't know how he'll do it but he knows he will never let Lucifer in again. He promises that to himself and to Dean without actually saying it out loud.

Dean then turns on the radio and focuses on the road ahead. Half an hour later, he loses control of the steering wheel and swerves the car dangerously when he hears, "Hello, Dean." Thank whatever higher power that is watching over them because Sam has enough awareness to take the wheel from Dean and swerve them back to the road. Dean immediately hits the brake and stops at the side of the desolate highway. He slams his hand on the wheel with agitation and mutters a harsh 'Son of a bitch' and hangs his head backwards as he regains his breath.

Sam turns around so fast, he could have easily pulled a muscle.

"Cas?" he exclaims.

"Sam," Castiel says with a small smile and nods.

Dean presses the 'off' button on the radio a lot harder than necessary and turns around with a furious look on his face. The first thing he notices is how Castiel's eyes are bright, gleaming blue again.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he almost shouts.

Castiel opens his mouth to speak but Sam interjects.

"You're an angel again?"

"Yes. Michael vanquished Metatron and has returned the Grace of all angels."

"Lucifer?"

"He is still in the cage. Along with Gabriel."

Sam releases a deep sigh as he looks forward and hangs his head against the headrest. The relief is visible in the way he lays back against the seat and lets his muscles relax.

"Then why the hell are you here?" Dean asks, still angry at Castiel.

"I came here to apologise," Castiel answers.

The crinkles at the corner of Castiel's eyes are more prominent. As though he had aged. Or consumed with exhaustion.

"I'm sorry, Dean, Sam," his eyes swivel from one hunter to the other.

Dean reaches over the seat and plants his fist on the side of the angel's face. Castiel moves his head to the left mechanically –for Dean's sake- to reduce the impetus gained by Dean's flying fist. Nonetheless, it hurts like hell for Dean and instead of trying to act cool, he lets out a string of curses and cradles his hand against his chest. He opens the door and steps out, face still scrunched up in pain.

"Dean," Sam calls out as he steps out of the Impala too.

Castiel appears in front of Dean with a flutter of wings. He reaches out and touches Dean's fist and the pain subsides instantly. This only serves to anger the hunter even more. He shows his appreciation by throwing another hard punch on Castiel's jaw. Again, he shakes his hand in pain but steps back to avoid any physical contact with Castiel.

He hisses with clenched teeth, "I don't need your fucking help. And I most definitely don't need your stupid apology."

Sam walks over and puts a hand on Dean's shoulder to calm him down.

Sam then utters quietly, "You can't say you're sorry, then turn around and make the same mistakes, Cas. You can't expect us to forgive you or even trust you after all that has happened."

"I don't," Castiel says.

"What?" Dean barks.

"I have come to terms with the fact that there is nothing I can say or do to redeem myself to the two of you. I have betrayed your trust and wronged you time and time again. I don't expect forgiveness."

Dean rolls his eyes and tugs at Sam's sleeve.

"Let's go," Dean says as he turns away.

"Dean, wait. I need…"

Dean stares at him indignantly.

Castiel sighs before trying again.

"I need the angel tablet."

Sam throws a suspicious glance while Dean laughs bitterly and says, "Yeah, go fuck yourself."

"It isn't a request, Dean."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Was that an order, Mr. Holy Servant of the Lord?"

"I'm an angel, not a servant. And yes, I believe it was."

Dean moves forward in temper but Sam stops him with a hand across his chest to pull him back.

"Who the hell does he think he is?" Dean asks Sam in disbelief.

Sam wears a hard expression as he glares at Castiel and asks, "What for?"

"Michael is sealing Heaven until all of our problems are solved. The angels are returning home for once and for all. It is risky to leave the angel tablet on Earth where it can be misused."

"You think we're gonna mess with your tablet?" Sam asks incredulously.

"I don't but Michael does. He is concerned that Abaddon may take hold of it. He has demanded that I bring it back home."

"Now, you're Michael's bitch. Wow, colour me surprised," Dean retorts.

"No, I am not. I have to redeem myself among the Heavenly Hosts, Dean. You of all people, are aware of the devastation I have caused. Michael has given me an opportunity to reinstate my loyalty by returning to Heaven and assisting him in fixing all that is broken."

"Yeah, that is if you don't destroy the entirety of heaven first."

"Dean," Sam says in an attempt of stopping him from uttering hurtful things.

Castiel just looks down at his feet. Dean climbs in the car and Sam hesitantly follows.

Instead of driving off, he calls out with exasperation, "You want the tablet or not?"

Castiel vanishes and appears in the back seat of the Impala. The ride to Garth's boathouse is deafeningly silent. Once they arrive, Dean runs up the small flight of stairs, goes through Kevin's usual entrance test and brings out the tablet. Surprisingly, Kevin doesn't argue. He is relieved to get rid of the tablet. Maybe now he can return to a normal life. The kid can hope, right?

"Here's your dumb stone. Now go pass it to your boss," Dean snaps.

"Yes, I will."

Castiel is still perched on the seat, looking down at the tablet.

"What, Cas?" Dean asks a little less threateningly.

"Michael gave me a choice. I could stay on earth or return to heaven. Whatever choice I make, there is no going back. He is closing the gates with or without me inside."

The Winchesters wait quietly for what he has to say. Castiel looks at them expectantly.

When he hears no response, he sighs deeply before continuing, "I have to atone for my sins."

"So, this is the last time we'll be seeing you then," Sam states.

Castiel nods solemnly. Dean doesn't say anything. He just looks at him for a long minute, and lets the silence stretch.

Sam pats Castiel on the shoulder, "It's been a hell of a ride, Cas. Don't screw up again, alright?"

Castiel nods with a sad smile.

"I need to ask for one last favour from you."

"What?" Sam asks.

"I have to release the vessel to show good faith, as proof that I will not abandon heaven to walk on Earth again. I wish to pay Jimmy Novak my last respects. Can you cremate his body on my behalf?"

Sam looks to Dean who is still staring at Castiel wordlessly. When he notices that the attention is on him, he clears his throat and shrugs.

"Yeah, whatever," Dean says nonchalantly as he turns his back to Castiel.

"Bury the body or salt and burn?" Sam asks.

"The latter is more preferable. A hunter's funeral," Castiel smiles.

"A hunter's funeral," Dean repeats softly.

"Yes," Castiel says as he feels the need to answer.

He steps out of the car and waits. After a moment, Sam and Dean realise that he's waiting for them to exit the car to shed his vessel. They step out of the car and stand before Castiel. Dean leans on the door when the uncomfortable silence drags.

"This is goodbye," Castiel announces.

Sam reaches over to pat him on the shoulder but Castiel moves forward quickly and grabs both the brothers. He hugs them while they stand rigidly.

Sam, at least has enough sense to slap a hand on his back uncomfortably and say, "Yeah, yeah. Okay, Cas."

Dean just stands without leaning forward or saying anything. When Castiel releases them both, he still has his left hand on Sam's shoulder and the right on Dean's.

He squeezes as he says sincerely, "Thank you, both of you. Thank you for everything."

Sam just nods with the lack of things to say and Dean tightens his lips into a thin line. He chooses to remain silent.

"Oh, one more thing." Castiel reaches his suit pocket and removes the angel blade.

He twirls it in his hand expertly so that the handle is facing Dean and says, "I want you to have this."

"No, thanks," Dean says.

"You will have to face Abaddon one day or another. My blade can kill demons. You will need it, Dean."

"Like I said, I don't need shit from you," Dean utters bitterly.

Castiel just tugs Dean's hand and places it in his palm before squeezing the hand shut.

"As remembrance then," Castiel says.

Dean wants to turn it down. He wants to spout harsh things like how he doesn't need to remember Castiel let alone keep his memento. But he finds it difficult to speak so he doesn't.

Castiel takes a deep breath and nods to himself as though he's strengthening his resolve.

"Close your eyes," he warns.

The Winchesters turn their backs on him and shut their eyes tightly. Castiel makes his exit in a stream of light until Jimmy Novak's lifeless body falls to the ground. As an angel, he doesn't have a definite form. So, he just floats above as rays of light and looks down at the Winchesters for the last time.

After a minute, Dean opens his eyes and turns around slowly. He sees Jimmy Novak on the ground. He touches Sam's shoulder to indicate that it's okay to open his eyes. They both stare at the body of Jimmy Novak for a while before moving forward to carry it. Dean grabs the upper body while Sam carries his legs. They place him in the back seat of the car with his crumpled trench coat and all. Dean looks at Jimmy's face and wonders how Castiel and Jimmy can look so alike but yet so different. He reaches over and closes Jimmy's open eyes. These eyes are a dark, depressing blue.

He stares one last time before climbing into the driver's seat and driving away to some place where they can cremate the body.

"You okay?" Sam asks with caution.

"What?" Dean asks distractedly but before Sam could repeat, the question registers in his head and he answers, "I'm fine."

"You don't have to lie to me. I can see it on your face."

"Then, you can see that I meant what I said. Cause there's nothing on my face."

"Yeah, that's cause you're trying too hard to look unaffected," Sam retorts.

He sighs and explains, "Dean, he is your best friend, practically the only friend you had. The angel that dragged your ass out of hell. It's okay to feel sad. You know I won't mock you. "

Dean doesn't say anything. He just turns on the radio and drums his fingers on the steering wheel.

After the salt-and-burn, they stand there for a moment. Dean watches as the corner of the trench coat that peeks out from the fort made of logs, catch on fire. If he feels sentimental about it, no one has the right to judge. He snaps himself out of the gloomy mood. After all, it's not like Castiel's dead. But that's the thing. He is as good as dead. He will never be seen again. No one will ever tilt their head or squint their eyes the way he does when he's confused. No one will be as indifferent to pop culture references as he is -sorry, was. Despite the differences between Jimmy and Castiel, they still wear the same face. Now that Jimmy's gone, so is the image of Castiel. Dean silently panics as the realisation hits hard. He wonders if he should have kept the trench coat. But then again, he still has Castiel's FBI badge to remember his face when he forgets. He also has the angel blade. And he has Castiel's phone and his ridiculous voice mail command if he forgets his voice. He reprimands himself inwardly because he really shouldn't feel this sentimental. The last time he felt this way was when Bobby died and he tried to hold onto whatever he can. Because he remembers how it felt to slowly forget his mother's face and her voice. It was terrifying. Sometimes, he thinks hard to recall his father's voice in fear of forgetting him too. He calls Bobby's phone once in a while to remind himself of how Bobby sounded. But Castiel isn't family. So, he shouldn't feel that way towards him. Except he's the angel that resurrected Dean from Hell. Castiel helped him save Sam from Lilith by disclosing the bond between prophets and archangels. The same angel who remained behind with Chuck to hold back Raphael and let Sam and Dean escape, carved an angel banishing sigil into his chest and activated it to clear the way from angels who were likely to stop the Winchesters, threw a Molotov cocktail at Michael, redeemed Sam from the cage, fled to keep Dean safe from Leviathans in Purgatory... God, the crazy lengths that Castiel has gone for them. Who is he kidding? Castiel is as close to family as it gets.

Sam must have witnessed the inner turmoil on Dean's face because he starts to say something.

"Dean-"

"He could have stayed."

Sam takes a few moments to understand.

"You could have asked him to."

"Yeah, like that would have made a difference. He always leaves and you know it."

"You didn't even try, Dean."

Dean just walks away without voicing out his thoughts.

'I told him I needed him before but he left anyway. Why would this time be any different?'

Castiel watches as Sam and Dean carry his vessel to the back seat of the Impala. He feels sorrowful. He immediately regrets the decision. He wishes so badly he could occupy the vessel again as he watches Dean close Jimmy Novak's eyes. However, he needs permission for that and Jimmy isn't alive to say yes again. He would have stayed if the Winchesters asked him to. Deep down, he wishes they did. He wishes they demanded him to stay despite Castiel's explanation as to why he should return to heaven. He wants to laugh at himself for being conflicted. His time on Earth has made him as fickle-minded as the humans he once deemed weak. However, he likes the thought of being able to feel. He used to see nothing but pain, anger and guilt in emotions. Now, he views it as more than that. There is love and care, purity and selflessness. There is beauty. And he's the only angel who has been blessed enough to feel. Who would have thought that falling from Grace could lead to a free fall of discovery? Castiel has discovered many things about himself but his most worthwhile lesson has been the realisation that there is nothing more important than family. Which is why he finds it difficult to tear himself away as he watches the Winchesters climb in the car and drive away. After all, family is two orphan boys and home is a long, black car.

He returns to Heaven once the car is out of sight. He gives the tablet to Michael and watches as Michael seals the tablet with an Enochian spell. No one can touch the tablet now. Not even angels. Michael then elevates Castiel from a seraph to an archangel. This surprises Castiel; after all, he is the reason why the angels had fallen. Considering that Michael is the only archangel left, he assures Castiel that he needs another angel to lead the garrison. But he has also mentioned that Castiel will have to follow his orders diligently and dedicate his existence to bring heaven back to its former glory. That will be the reparation for his past mistakes. Castiel is grateful for the forgiveness and compassion he has received. He decides to make the most of it. He will devote his life to building his home and uniting his family.

When he is adjourned from Michael's presence, he visits the eternal Tuesday afternoon of an old friend. He sits quietly and watches the man fly his kite in the park. It is reassuring to Castiel. A constant he can hold on to. At night, he has to return to his part of heaven as he holds the duty of raising the moon -yes, Castiel is the ruling prince of moon now while Michael rules the suns. But for now, he can bask in the sunshine in the park. It has been the same since the first time Castiel discovered this patch of heaven but it feels so different. Nothing here has changed except Castiel's outlook of it. Now, when he looks over to the autistic man, he feels a surge of affection that he has never felt towards the man before. He smiles as the man looks at him briefly. Upon making eye contact, the man immediately turns away, even takes a few steps further from Castiel. The archangel doesn't push his way into the man's territory. He is content to sit and observe. That's when he hears it.

'Castiel, you feathered douchebag...'

He laughs a little. Same old Dean. He didn't realise how much he missed hearing his prayers. His mind was so quiet when he was human. Maybe that was the reason behind his loneliness. His grace is in place, filling the once hollow body, Dean's voice occupies the recesses of his mind and he finally feels like the crack in his chassis is repaired. He is whole.

'I know you can hear me so listen up...

"I always do, Dean," Castiel says although he knows Dean can't hear his reply.

The journey never quite ends. He will always watch over the Winchesters.

Notes: It's me again. *waves at you* Guys, thank you so much for taking the time to read this story. The few of you who stuck with me from the beginning till the end, (you know who you are) I love you guys. I am eternally grateful to have your attention and time. *wipes away tears dramatically* This is the longest story I've ever written so I'm a little sad that it has come to an end. But, but guys, listen. If you want, I can write an epilogue. :D Hehehe. I'm getting clingy to this story. So let me know if you want one more chapter, right? I will write it for you guys. Goodbye, buddies! (Until we meet again.) :')