Chapter 33.
Sam was eating toast in the kitchen when Dean and Cas joined him. "I don't get it." said Dean.
"Get what?" said Sam.
"How does all this," said Dean, indicating Sam's height with a sweep of his arm, "Run off that?" he concluded, pointing at the slice of toast.
"Well, this is my fourth." said Sam. He smiled. "I take it last night went okay."
"Yes, it did." said Dean, "Cas is fine. Well ... "
"Cas is fine." said Cas. He looked at Sam. "I had some rough moments. I missed Jules. Having Dean there helped."
"And did he keep his promise?" said Sam.
"Well ... " said Dean.
"He did." said Cas, "And I am very grateful that he did. I know it wasn't easy."
"Do you two want breakfast?" said Sam.
"Toast, no, but if you have any dead pig products ... " said Dean.
"We are never without dead pig products, Dean." said Sam, "Cas?"
"No, thankyou." said Cas. He seemed distracted. A moment later, he said, "I have to go."
"It's a little early, isn't it?" said Dean.
"Where are you going?" said Sam, detecting some anxiety in Dean's tone.
"He needs to get something for Jack." said Dean.
"Oh." said Sam, "Okay."
"I want to go early so I can be back sooner." said Cas.
"Good idea." said Sam, "Dean and I have to go to Sarah's place with the Jeep and when we're all back here, we can hang out together. Do you have any message for Jules or Sarah, Cas?"
Cas looked uncomfortable. "No, not really." he said.
"It's okay, Cas." said Sam, "It wasn't a demand. Any time you want to send a message to either of them, you can. If you're not ready to, that's fine."
"I know that your intention is always to help," said Cas, "And you do, both of you, all the time. If I seem ungrateful ... "
"You never do." said Sam, "Look, we've both been through stuff like this. We know how it makes you feel. Think about how angry we've been at times and how tolerant you were of all our bullcrap. It's fine, man. It's fine."
"Will you be gone long?" said Dean. Sam wondered if Cas heard, as he did, that it was really a plea for some information about his intended destination.
"No, I don't think so." said Cas, "But if I'm not here when you get back, assume a delay, not a disaster."
"Great." said Dean, "Call when you're on your way home."
"Is that really necessary?" said Cas, sounding a clear alarm bell for both of them. He had never raised an objection before. They exchanged glances.
"Is it a problem?" said Sam.
Cas looked from one to the other. "I may forget."
"No, you don't do that." said Dean, a suspicious tone entering his voice.
"It's a routine journey to buy something for Jack." said Cas.
"Just call, Cas." said Dean, in a voice that offered no room for negotiation.
"I'll call." said Cas. He headed to the doorway.
Dean called out after him. "Check your fuel."
"It's more than half full." said Cas, turning back to look at him.
Dean nodded. "Good. Good. Okay. See you later."
"Yes." said Cas. He left.
"You think he's lying?" said Dean when he was sure Cas had gone out of earshot.
"I think he really didn't want to call us." said Sam, "But maybe he's just sick of being treated like a teenager."
"You think I ... No, you could be right. I know one thing; tonight you should be on Cas watch."
"I thought last night went okay."
"It did, but I need a clear head dealing with this stuff, because my own stuff kept getting in the way."
"Michael stuff?" said Sam. Dean had made a lot of progress and seemed fairly clear of Michael's influence, but sometimes he was just very good at hiding his injuries and it was possible he had only been pretending to himself and Sam but Dean seemed reluctant to answer.
"What is it?" said Sam.
"Do you ever wonder how long this stuff lasts? It's not Michael, it's older. Even before Mom died, I felt ... " He couldn't say more. His eyes darted around in panic. Sam knew exactly why he was afraid to speak about this deep, unhealing wound.
"You can say anything to me." he said, "It won't change a thing."
"Biggest fear, from the first time I heard Mom and Dad argue ... losing my family ... ending up alone." Tears filled Dean's eyes. "See how dumb this is? I'm about to cry like a frickin' kid."
"Dean, what would Sarah say?"
"She'd say tears mean it's the stuff that matters. I know that. I get that. Doesn't make me feel better about it."
Sam smiled. "No, I know."
"All night, last night, whenever we were talking, I was trying to stay calm and focused and help him through it and all the time, everything he said sounded like he was giving up ... like he didn't wanna be around humans anymore. But he said he did and after I went to sleep, he woke me because he needed to talk. So maybe I'm just projecting my dumb, stupid, pathetic toddler fears."
"Could you not talk like that about my brother?" said Sam, "I have this rule: people talk like that about him and I punch them in the face. That would be awkward for all kinds of reasons, but mostly because you'd hit me back, harder."
"Yes, I would." said Dean with a smile.
"Do you wanna talk about this some more?"
Dean considered it, which felt like a small victory, but then he said, "Nah. We need to put all our effort into taking care of Cas."
"Okay, but when you do feel like talking ... "
"It's not easy stuff to talk about." said Dean.
"No, but it's the stuff that matters."
Dean nodded. "Buy me enough whisky and I'm sure I'll talk eventually."
"Sounds like a plan." said Sam.
"And don't think I don't appreciate how willing you are to listen to all my crap."
Sam nodded.
Dean went on, "And don't think I don't at some point wanna take some time over yours. Like, weeks."
"I know." said Sam, "By the way, whatever anyone else does, I'm not ever leaving you. You'll never be alone."
It seemed for a moment as if the tears would fall, but then Dean visibly pulled himself together and said, "Yeah, great. Get me my bacon, emo-boy."
Sam grinned. "Jerk."
Dean smiled back. "Bitch."