Chapter 6- Pepper Spray
The speed with which Dean arrived would've caught Sam off guard if he hadn't already resigned himself to a long night of being coddled by his brother. However, since he was familiar with his brother's ways, he just sat back and tried to prepare as best he could mentally. When their special knock (once slow, twice fast) resounded on the door 10 minutes later, Sam simply sighed and stood to let Dean in.
He had to admit, he hadn't been expecting Castiel to be on his brother's heels when he opened the door, but as Dean descended upon him in a frantic wave of big brother worry, Sam realized he would be an idiot to think otherwise. They'd probably been glued to the hip ever since the Dead Eyes broke into Cas' apartment, and if Dean was this worked up about him, there was no way he'd leave Cas by himself anywhere right now.
"What happened? Are you alright?" Dean asked, eyes scanning him critically for any sign on injury even though Sam had already clarified on the phone that he was fine.
"Really Dean, there's no need to smother him," Cas admonished before shutting the door and nudging them back towards the living room, "At least let him sit on the couch. Hello, Sam."
"Hi, Cas," Sam said, amused at the man's ever-practical nature. Cas' aura was like a calm ocean compared to Dean's frenzied, worried one, "How's life?"
"Fairly interesting," he replied as Dean practically pushed him back onto the couch (just lie down Sammy!), "You know, there's never a dull day with your brother."
"I bet," Sam commented dryly, "Dean, I'm not sick."
He batted his brother's hand away from his forehead, and Dean clicked his tongue before frowning. There was a new array of fading bruises on his face, and with his frown, he brought attention to a sore spot on his forehead.
Typical Dean. Always concerned about others and ignoring the fact that he walks around as one giant bruise.
"You look like it," Dean said bluntly, "When's the last time you ate?"
"Uh, I was going to eat, but you know…stuff happened," he replied, gesturing vaguely to the kitchen.
Dean got a 'you're-concerning-me-with-your-idiocy' look and opened his mouth to no doubt berate him in a brotherly manner over it, but before he could, Cas clamped a hand on his shoulder.
"Let Sam tell us what happened," he suggested, sending cerulean pulses down Dean's arm in a subconscious effort to soothe him, "I'm sure he's ready to inform you about everything as long as you're willing to let him speak."
Shades of teal formed along Dean's arm, forming so quickly that it couldn't be the first occurrence of its kind.
Dean grunted, face pinching in thought. Surprisingly, he didn't shrug off Cas' lingering hand, which was mind-boggling in itself. Dean's tolerance of touch like that was on par, if not even lower, than his own.
Sam watched patiently, and also a little nervously as his brother puzzled through the Enochian expert's words. He had expected to be bombarded by unnecessary and overbearing attention as soon as Dean walked in, and for the foreseeable future. Sam knew his brother meant well, and in their youth, it had even been something he'd relied on him for, but Sam wasn't a kid anymore. He could take care of himself, and he didn't want Dean to drop everything to tend to him like he was an invalid.
Cas' presence changed all that though. He was acting as an anchor for Dean, and while his brother was still in overprotective big brother mode, Cas was taking the edge off it. Cas could be overly blunt and a little awkward, but his steadiness and well-placed words were doing wonders right now. Sam would be forever grateful to him for it, but he was now navigating unknown territory. Before, Sam knew how much Dean would try and butt into his life, but now?
It's like trying to predict how strong a hurricane will be by raising a flag in midst of the storm.
"You'll tell me everything?" Dean finally asked, green eyes slightly narrowed as he crossed his arms. In John's old leather jacket, he cut an imposing figure, but Sam knew better than to be intimidated by the tough pose. He'd watched Dean practice looking badass in the mirror too much for it to work on him.
He sighed regardless as he took in the worried, frantic green aura battling against the calming blue. Dean's worry was more than evident, and quite frankly, Sam was tired. He couldn't work this out on his own anymore, and while a part of him chafed at what felt like giving in, a larger part of him was relieved that he could finally tell his brother.
Sam suddenly felt like a little kid again as his shoulders slumped. For better or worse, Dean had always been there for him. They weren't on as close terms as they'd once been, but he was here now, wasn't he?
Maybe just this once I can let Dean take over for a bit.
"Yeah. I'll tell you everything."
Something in his voice must've given away his current mindset because Dean's aura quickly went from overwhelming concern to big brother determination. The green rose up and condensed into something more normal, but also steelier; a carefully controlled supernova of color. It was Dean's 'I'm-in-charge-now' setting, and it showed as he got Sam up off the couch.
"Cas, can you wait out here? I'm going to talk to Sammy," he said, sounding normal and even a bit pleasant. The hard undertone to his voice left no question in anyone's mind though that he wasn't really asking, but telling.
"Of course," Cas said slowly. Part of his aura turned into an odd, electric shade of blue, but settled as he sat on the couch. He'd processed the fact that he'd been ordered, and didn't know how to feel about it, but he trusted Dean.
"Good. Come on, Sammy," Dean said, voice falling into more gentle tones as he steered them toward his room.
Sam went willingly, a wave of exhaustion causing him to shuffle along. Sitting with Dean would be nice; almost like the old times, and as they sat side by side on his bed, Sam could almost imagine they were back home.
Wait…home?
Sam frowned. He hadn't thought of the tiny house on the edge of Lawrence as home in a while. A long time ago he had, when motel-jumping was still fresh in his mind and he'd still known John and Dean to be the two people that would always be there for him, but not anymore, so why…
Dean's aura swirled with every shade of green imaginable, but ultimately familiar to him as he turned on the lamp, and Sam realized while he felt nostalgic.
"It's been a while," his brother said, closing the door softly and toeing off his boots. He somehow managed to vocalize what had been on Sam's mind, and he didn't even have the ability to see auras to help him.
Yellow lamp light softened everything at the edges, making Sam's cramped room feel cozy. Dean took off his jacket and casually tossed it over his chair before removing a gun from the small of his back, setting it down carefully on his desk.
The gun was only the first weapon though. Sam watched as Dean disarmed himself completely, the most solemn sign of trust his brother knew how to give. Besides hooking up with people, Dean was never without at least one weapon on his person, and in even those situations, he always had something nearby. Everything was on his desk though, as far away as one could get from Sam's bed.
Something caught Sam's eye, and he questioned it as Dean set it down on the desk.
"Is that…pepper spray?"
He'd never known Dean to carry pepper spray, much less in an electric blue canister designed to go on a keychain. They had been trained to fight with just about anything and everything imaginable, and pepper spray had never been on the list (save for the one instance John had been caught in a side blast of the stuff while taking someone down). Pepper spray was for civilians, not Winchesters!
Dean blinked down at the pepper spray before his lips quirked, a bit of pink coloring his cheeks as his aura turned a very interesting shade of brilliant verdant.
"Uh, Cas gave it to me," he said, scratching the back of his neck bashfully, "He said-well, he thought I could use it against the Dead Eyes after this one-why are you laughing?"
Sam couldn't help it. The mental image of Dean Winchester, underground fighting champion and the most dangerous man in Lawrence, wielding a bright blue can of pepper spray against a bunch of gangsters, was too much for him to bear.
"It's-pepper spray!" he exclaimed, falling onto his side as he laughed out what felt like a week's worth of stress.
Dean's lips twitched in a valiant effort to hold back his amusement, but he quickly dissolved into chuckles.
"You wanna know something even funnier about it?"
Sam struggled to get himself together and sat back up with a wheeze. Dean held up the canister and twirled it around, his grin bright and mischievous.
"I actually did use it last week on someone that tried to rob us when we ate out on the west side."
There was a moment of quiet disbelief from Sam before he erupted into a fresh batch of laughter.
"No way. What did Cas have to say to that?" he managed to ask as Dean sat down beside him.
His brother shook his head with an eye-crinkling smile before pitching his voice down in an attempt to mimic Cas' gruff voice.
"'I'm glad you utilized my gift to its fullest advantage, Dean. There's no need to use a knife in every conflict.'"
The replication was poor, but it sounded 100% like something Cas would say. They laughed for a few minutes over the anecdote in a way that only people close to each other can, with a single look from the other triggering a new round of laughter. The atmosphere only grew serious once more when they calmed down.
It wasn't an overwhelming sense of seriousness; Sam had relaxed enough that the following conversation wouldn't be as horrible as it could've been. He was glad Dean had gotten him to laugh because spilling the beans would be much easier.
Sam started with the very first time he'd sleepwalked, going through his dreams and even the visions he'd had. It was the first time he'd told anyone of their prophetic nature (besides Ben of course), but Dean took it in as much stride as one could. Sam knew it helped that Dean had long known of his ability to see auras and had his own abnormal strength to contend with. While he got stuck on a few aspects of the visions, he largely accepted their validity. It'd be hard not to after something like the vision he'd had of Wilkes.
Telling of Ben's similar issues went much more hesitantly. Sam wasn't sure how Dean would take it, but it was…better than he anticipated. Apparently Lisa had filled him in on Ben's 'night terrors' earlier that day, so it wasn't too big a shock, but learning your son was having premonitions naturally didn't sit well with Dean.
Sam's voice got a bit raspy, but he managed to wrap it all up. By the end, they'd fallen back onto the mattress, legs hanging over the edge as they stared up at the ceiling. It was an echo of the position they'd always taken in childhood; side by side and eyes upward to look at nothing.
"Do you know if…if he sees bad stuff?"
Dean's voice was rough, aura tumultuous with the colors he only got when he was feeling particularly paternal.
Sam's insides twisted in a reflection of his brother's mood. He'd only given it a passing thought at the time, as he'd been too busy and stressed to contemplate the true implications of Ben having visions. Now all he could think of was the fire that must've plagued Ben in his dreams, and the confusion he must've felt waking up surrounded by cold tile in a bathroom.
Ben's only 4. He doesn't deserve any of this.
"I hope not," he said quietly, "I love him like he's my own."
Sam's eyes remained fixed on the ceiling as he spoke. He wasn't sure why he'd said that last part (stupid, stupid Sam), but it had slipped out before he could stop himself, and now they were out in the open.
I do love him, he thought firmly, though the certainty wavered as his old concerns about Ben's potentially misplaced affections for him surfaced.
The mattress creaked, and Sam could sense that Dean had shifted to his side. He glanced over to see Dean with the oddest expression on his face as if he were both confused and exasperated. It was a far cry from the anger he'd been expecting, but he stayed tense just in case the other shoe decided to drop.
"Of course you do," he said, "I'm not an idiot Sammy. You wear your heart a little more on your sleeve than I do, and Ben's got a lot of love to give. As Lisa likes to remind me time and time again, you're both similar enough that it's obvious you two would bond."
He poked Sam in the chest gently, "But that's what you're supposed to do dumbass. If anything happens to me-"
"Dean-"
"No, listen to me," Dean said firmly, grasping his shoulder as he tried to roll over and block out any of that talk (Dean lead a risky life that worried him enough as it was; Sam hated discussion of dying), "If anything happens to me, I know that you'll take care of him. I don't want Lisa to do it on her own, and I can rest easy knowing that you'll step up."
Sam picked at a loose thread on his comforter, focusing resolutely on it as he tried not to let his emotions slip. He didn't want to start doing anything dumb like cry, but it was such a relief to know that he wasn't somehow encroaching upon Dean's fatherhood rights by caring for Ben.
Dean sighed, but he smiled slightly as he did so. He wasn't angry; just a bit amused judging by his aura and resigned.
"Lisa said you might do this," he muttered as he moved closer, "C'mon Sammy. We can have one chick flick moment tonight."
Dean slung an arm around his shoulders, and Sam managed a watery laugh (Lisa, in all her wisdom, had struck again) before the tears slipped down his cheeks.
Neither of them cried very often, as tears were something they had little time for in their childhood, but of the two of them, Sam did it the most. Dean never held it against him when he did though, content to be the shoulder to cry on if it made him feel better.
And it did. Sam wiped them away as quickly as they came, but there was something cathartic as at least one issue was settled between him and his brother.
It's almost like the good ol' days.
"Just how much did you discuss with Lisa?" he asked as his brother shuffled away. Dean was always a bit awkward post-cry, but Sam didn't hold it against him. Some things between them were easier to let go.
"A lot," he responded, brow crinkling, "She said something about how our miscommunication needed to stop before it ruined us. She told me what she knew about the sleepwalking, and…"
Here, Dean hesitated, his aura condensing into a dark forest green.
Sam reached out a hand to clasp his brother's bicep, a bit alarmed at the sudden shift.
"What is it?"
Dean chewed on his lip for a second before averting his eyes.
"She said that we should 'stop being boneheaded about love'," he finally said, nose wrinkling as he said the word 'love', "Whatever that means."
He's just confused, Sam realized as the dark green lightened to a more normal apple green, He really has no idea what she's talking about.
"She was specific on the 'we' bit?" he asked, and Dean nodded.
"Do you have any idea what she was talking about? Cause at first I thought she was just talking about us and Ben, but it didn't seem like it!"
Sam smiled at his brother's confusion. Lisa had been clear with her encouragement to get a move on with Gabe, which he was planning to do soon (after the whole serial killer thing was over he could give it his undivided attention), but how did she know Dean was inadvertently caught up with someone new?
"Did you tell her about Cas?"
"Well, yeah," Dean said in an 'are-you-dumb?' tone of voice, "She saw the pepper spray can and got curious, so I told her Cas was a friend!"
A friend, Sam thought as Dean's aura took a much more positive quality just from saying Cas' name, You haven't made a new friend in years. No wonder she's preaching about love.
Dean may have been able to take down a grown man with his hands tied behind his back, but in the emotional realm, he was significantly lacking. Sam wanted to question him on how exactly he'd grown so close to Cas in such a short amount of time (and how thickheaded he was being about it), but he kept himself in check. They'd already exhausted the reservoir for emotional conversation, and he knew Dean would just clam up on him if he tried.
"It's probably just Lisa being Lisa," Sam assured, deciding that discussing Cas and Dean's relationship would have to wait for another night., "I wouldn't worry too much about it."
Dean nodded in clear relief. Knowing his brother, he'd probably been working himself into a state trying to dissect the meaning behind Lisa's words.
"About that cabin Sammy…"
He trailed off, and Sam knew from his aura that he wouldn't like what he was about to hear.
"You've had more dreams of it," he stated flatly.
"Yeah," Dean replied, pillowing his head on his forearm. Soft shadows hid his eyes, but Sam didn't need to see them to know that they were troubled, "Relatively speaking since I don't sleep often, but when I do…the cabin takes the prime spot."
"But you don't sleepwalk?"
Dean shook his head, leading the younger Winchester to mull on the differences between their odd sleep experiences.
Out of the two of them, it would make sense that Dean wouldn't be having as frequent dreams. On the rare occasion he did sleep more than four hours, he was so deeply asleep that nothing could disturb him, least of all some weird vision. Besides, something told him that this wasn't going to be a problem that Dean faced and that for whatever reason, Sam would be bearing the brunt of the visions.
I'll just add it to my repertoire since there's always room for more in my life.
"I've been feeling stronger lately," Dean remarked, absently flexing a scarred hand before curling it into a fist, "When I pulled you out of the Roadhouse, there was a giant pile of wood in the way and I just-bulldozed my way through it like it was nothing."
The mention of the Roadhouse brought back that night in vivid detail just for a moment. Sam hadn't spent much time thinking of it, but Dean had seemed almost unstoppable that night.
"I thought it was just adrenaline or something," Sam said, to which Dean shook his head.
"It had been building up for the previous few days, but the Roadhouse made me realize I wasn't just imagining it," he said, "It's not so bad that I can't control it. But it just feels off."
Dean rubbed his chest absentmindedly, around the area where they'd gotten their matching pentacles. Sam eyed the motion, noting it for later reference. He wasn't sure if it held any importance, but he couldn't help but recall the time he'd clawed at his chest in Gabe's apartment.
"I don't know what's going on, but I'm going to keep an eye on you and Ben," Dean continued somberly, aura already completely set on what was in his head the new mission, "This sleepwalking and vision business can get dangerous, and I don't want either of you getting hurt cause you nodded off at the wrong time with no one around."
Sam pressed his lips together. He had been expecting this, and while he could understand Dean's reasoning (waking up in the bathtub still freaked him out a bit), Sam didn't want his brother babysitting him for what could potentially be a long-term problem.
"And I know you don't like it when I breathe down your neck, but this is different Sammy," Dean said fiercely, suddenly sitting up with blazing green eyes, "You can't brush this off. You're seeing weird shit and dead people and bad stuff, and completely setting aside the whole sleepwalking bit of it, that stuff will mess with your mind."
"I know, but you can't watch me 24/7! It's impractical; we have lives to lead," Sam hissed quietly, "You can't predict when I'll suddenly get hit with a vision or fall asleep, so there's no point in watching me."
"Sam-"
Sam cut him off with a wave of his hand, "Just-if you want to keep an eagle eye on someone, then let it be Ben. You can't watch the both of us, and he needs it more than me."
It was an underhanded move. They both knew it, but it needed to be said. Dean really couldn't keep an eye on the both of them like he wanted to, and this way, he wouldn't feel as if he was just standing aside and doing nothing. Sam knew he was putting Dean in a hard position here (choosing between a brother and a son?) but ultimately, he knew fatherhood would win out.
Dean's aura flitted through a myriad of shades. His green eyes were just as turbulent, and he glared viciously at him before falling back against the headboard with an aggrieved sigh.
"You really suck sometimes Sammy," he huffed, crossing his arms hard enough to stretch his shirt, "You know I'd watch Ben."
"That's what you're supposed to do, dumbass," Sam echoed with a faint smile, and Dean grunted before flinging a pillow at him with lightning speed.
Sam couldn't quite duck it in time and yelped as it clipped the side of his face. It stung like a bitch, as Dean always had extra power to put behind his throws.
And he now has even more to put behind it. So much for winning this pillow fight.
"That's what you get for being a smartass," Dean proclaimed before hurling another pillow that narrowly missed him, "But you've made your point. However, you're going to have to do something for me."
"What's that?" Sam asked suspiciously, already a bit on edge. He'd probably do what Dean asked regardless, but he truly had no idea what his brother could ask of him right now.
Whatever it is can't be too bad, right?
Dean got out of bed in one fluid motion, leaving Sam to flop back in the newly opened space.
"Come see Lisa with me tonight so she can check you out."
"She won't be able to do anything for me," Sam responded automatically. He loved Lisa and trusted her expertise as a nurse, but he didn't have high hopes for her having any idea what to do about his premonitions.
Dean pulled a face as he began to gather up all of his weapons and replace them.
"I know, but it'd make me feel better. Put my mind at ease and all that shit," he said, face lightening briefly as he picked up the pepper spray before falling into a scowl as he turned to look fully at Sam, "If I'm going to leave you to your own devices, I want Lisa to make sure you're at least semi-functioning."
It's a reasonable request, Sam thought as Dean finished getting ready, This way I can see Lisa and Ben too and see how they're managing the sleepwalking on their end.
"Alright, fine," he said, pretending as if he'd had to think long and hard about it. Dean would've been suspicious if he'd agreed too easily, and Sam wasn't going to mess this up now, "I'll go to put your elderly nerves to rest."
"Bitch."
"Jerk."
Dean adjusted his leather jacket and ran a hand through his hair before jerking his chin upward in a sign that he should get up.
"Come on. We've left Cas to his own devices for too long."
"Whatever," Sam grumbled, getting up with difficulty from the bed. His normally shitty bed had felt pretty comfortable when he'd been talking to his brother and he was reluctant to move, "It's not like he could've burned down the apartment or anything."
Cas hadn't burned down the apartment while they were gone. In fact, he'd done quite the opposite. The smell of well-made coffee permeated the whole apartment, where the man was puttering around now with cups. His trench coat was hung up neatly on the rarely used hook by the door, altering his appearance in an odd way Sam had noticed lately when Cas didn't have his coat. It seemed Cas and his coat were as intrinsically entwined as Dean and John's old leather jacket.
"Normally I would ask before utilizing some else's kitchen, but I assumed it would be alright to take a preemptive measure," Cas said as the Winchesters drifted towards the breakfast bar, "Have you two settled what's needed to be settled?"
Sam purposefully let himself fall behind Dean so his brother wouldn't see as he watched the pair and their aura's interact. Watching two such large and flashy auras mellow out and blend at the edges when in close proximity was fascinating as always, and a big tell on their relationship.
Or rather, their potential for something more, he thought as he watched his brother awkwardly pat Cas' shoulder as thanks for the coffee, Dean will need some nudges, but it's all there.
"It smells good Cas, so don't worry about it," he said, interrupting what looked like very intense eye contact, "Dean, move."
He didn't have to add that last bit, but they were brothers, and Dean was still looking at Cas like he'd put the stars in the sky. Their auras were about as mingled as auras could get given the counter between them, and… was Cas actually smiling? Lisa was right; his brother was being boneheaded.
Dean must've realized he'd been staring at Cas because his cheeks turned a bit pink as he shoved at Sam and grumbled inaudibly under his breath. Cas ducked his head and shuffled down the counter a bit, sliding a pair of mugs forward as the Winchesters sat.
The show of embarrassment was so uncharacteristic for Dean that it helped make up Sam's mind right then and there. If these flames were going to get fanned, he'd have to do it. Maybe it was his own situation with Gabe giving him newfound confidence in what he saw (which was a bold thing to say considering he'd only gotten his shit together a few days ago), but he was sure that there was a spark of mutual feelings here he could encourage.
Sam hadn't played matchmaker in a long time. Back in high school, and even before then, it had been ridiculously easy to tell who had a crush on who. Auras were telling like that, but he always made sure to only meddle of the feelings were mutual. If it was, he sometimes gave people the nudges they needed, and have even put a few couples together in this manner. He'd quit doing it once he hit LU though, both because his own relationship with Jess was growing complicated, and because he simply didn't have the time to execute such subtle maneuverings to get people together.
But this is Dean, he thought as Cas prepped Dean's coffee for him just the way he liked it without prompting, Something like this is so rare for him; too rare, so I won't let it slip away from him.
"So Cas," he started, propping his chin in his hand as he casually stirred in his own coffee, "What was your thought process behind the pepper spray? Cause the canister is pretty cute-ow!"
Sam rubbed his bicep where Dean had landed one hell of a punch, but the damage had been done. Cas' eyes were sparkling with amusement now, aura lightening to a brilliant azure shot through with sky blue streaks.
"I told him it would be an excellent, non-lethal addition to his armory," he said, fixing a mock serious glare on Dean as he said 'non-lethal', "And I believe it was if his usage of it is any indicator."
"I told you, I already had my keys out, so of course I went for the pepper spray," Dean muttered, crossing his arms defensively, "I still prefer my knife Cas!"
Sam smiled as the two devolved into an odd sort of bickering, which involved Cas misunderstanding some of Dean's references and his brother having to backtrack and explain. Then Dean would remember they were arguing, and he'd launch right back into it.
He sipped on his coffee, content to let them argue like an old married couple before he spotted the notepad still lying on the counter.
Shit.
He'd been so caught up agonizing over what mother hen methods Dean would use on him that he'd completely forgotten to contact Gabe.
Luckily, Dean and Cas didn't seem to be paying him much mind. Sam mentally applauded Cas on being able to hold his brother's attention so effectively as he grabbed his phone from the coffee table and slunk down to the bathroom.
"Please be awake," he muttered as his phone dialed.
He didn't have to wait long. Gabe even sounded alert as he answered with a "Hey Sammo," that had Sam smiling despite the severity of the situation.
"Hey Gabe. Look, I know this will sound weird, but do you have any way of checking on Olsen?"
"I could contact Jody and Donna I suppose, but last I heard she was perfectly fine. Why?"
Gabe's tone turned more curious at the end, and Sam chewed his lip as he debated what he would possibly tell the P.I. Telling him of the visions wasn't something to be done over the phone, but he needed Gabe to know the situation was imperative.
"A hunch," he said, mind racing as he looked into the mirror. His reflection was sickly enough that Dean's request for him to see Lisa didn't seem so farfetched, "This is the longest stretch of time De-The Crucifier's gone without killing, and it doesn't sit right."
"A hunch," Gabe echoed, but not in a disbelieving way. It felt more pensive like he'd expected the two words in some form or fashion, "Is this one of those Winchester things?"
Sam couldn't help the tense spike of wariness. Once again, he got the sense that Gabe's perceptiveness wasn't limited to his work.
"It's a Sam Winchester thing," he said, letting the P.I make of that what he would.
There was a pause on the other end. Sam could imagine Gabe's brow furrowing, eyes slightly narrowed as he tried to make heads or tails of the possibly loaded statement.
"You're so cryptic, Sam-a-lam," he groaned dramatically, "But I'll check because I trust you and you're one smart cookie."
"Thanks, Gabe," he sighed, running a hand through his hair, "Just want to cover all our bases."
"Of course. Be careful Sam."
Gabe rarely called him Sam, and with such a heartfelt 'be careful' to end the call, Sam was convinced the man knew he was sinking deeper into a mess. He just wasn't asking about it, because as he'd said, he trusted him.
He barely knows half of what I'm capable of or what I'm going through, he thought as he flushed the toilet to make an excuse for his absence and splashed some water on his face. But he trusts me anyway.
The cold water brought a little color to his face, but he still looked rough. Sam sighed before deciding that he'd just accept it and went to unintentionally break up whatever could've happened while he was gone.
It turned out to be a surprisingly sweet scene. Dean and Cas' faces were less than a foot apart; Dean had leaned in, and Cas had crossed his arms on the counter to lean in from his side. Cas' head was tilted as he nodded at whatever Dean was saying, completely captivated by his brother's gestures and persona. Their auras had calmed and spread to fill the apartment with their respective hues, altering the atmosphere significantly with their combined presence.
Sam lingered for a moment in the hall as he took it all in. Moments like this where auras were simply things of beauty were what made his gift (or curse, or skill; it depended on his mood) bearable.
"I'd hate to break this up, but if we're going to get to Lisa's, we should probably arrive at a reasonable hour," Sam finally said as he walked in, nodding to the clock in the kitchen.
The pair turned to look at him with simultaneous expressions of confusion before Dean's eyes slid to the clock. Upon seeing the time, he cursed colorfully before gulping down the rest of his coffee.
"Lisa will kill me if I show up after midnight," he said, scrambling up from his seat, "You two need to get ready!"
Cas's aura swirled through a few troubled shades of indigo, matching the moody frown on his face. Sam took notice and tugged on the man's sleeve to get his attention.
"Don't worry about Lisa," he said quietly as Dean disappeared down the hall, "She's not the enemy here."
"How can you possibly know that?" Cas asked, expression changing to crestfallen. He was clearly focused on Dean and Lisa's previous relationship, and their closeness now.
"Because I know Lisa, and all she wants is us Winchesters to be happy. She's not going to get in between you and Dean," Sam said, trying to be as reassuring as possible.
Cas' aura settled a bit (being reassuring was Sam's forte), but it still held a trace of insecurity. Sam could read all the doubt and nervousness written in the blues that warred with each other. It spiraled into anxiety, taking the form of crackly static that muted the vivid blues with its own less impressive blue-gray.
It caught Sam off guard, as Cas' nature was so calm and generally unruffled, but he could sympathize with his situation. Dean was clueless as to how much Cas liked him, and for Cas, chasing after Dean probably seemed extremely hopeless. Lisa was just another added obstacle to him and a reminder that Dean liked women at least at some point in his life.
Poor Cas. He's in a really awkward position here.
Dean reemerged from the hall with a bundle in his arms and the need to rush clear in his stride.
"Alright, Sam. Bundle up; it's freezing outside, and you look one step away from a cold," he said, tossing what Sam could now see as his thickest jacket and a blanket to him, "Did you finish your coffee Cas?"
"I'm not taking this," Sam declared, pinching the blanket (which was coincidentally plaid) between his pointer finger and thumb like with a grimace, "What am I, 10?"
"It's cold outside," Dean said, completely ignoring his complaint as he leveled his best 'I'm-watching-out-for-you-right-now' gaze at him, "So put it on."
Sam scowled but acquiesced with a sigh. It must've felt like the Arctic Circle outside if Dean was admitting it was cold.
He draped the plaid blanket over his shoulders and stood, striking a silly pose in an attempt to ease Cas' stress.
"On a scale of 1-10, how ridiculous do I look right now?"
Cas pretended to seriously study him, and Sam almost thought the joke had flown right past his head, but his bright eyes gave away his amusement.
"About a 6," he answered in a deadpan voice.
Dean took one look at him before shaking his head with a muttered 'Sammy' and moving out of sight into the entrance hall. In mother hen mode, Dean wasn't the most receptive to humor.
"How about now?" Sam asked, tossing his hair and cocking his hip in an even more extravagant pose. It felt like he'd just about dislocated his femur, but he was sure he could give Gabe a run for his money in terms of dramatic.
This earned a smile and muffled snort of laughter, along with a score of 8.
"Cas, get your angelic butt over here! You don't even have your coat on!" Dean barked, sticking his head into the kitchen and waving the man's trench coat about.
"Angelic?" Sam asked, arching his eyebrows as he scurried over to lean over the breakfast bar and smirk at his brother.
Dean caught his insinuation and promptly turned very rosy, but Cas gave a very logical explanation as he took his coat.
"I'm named after a minor angel. The angel of Thursday to be exact."
"That's neat, having a namesake like that," Sam remarked, drawing his blanket a little tighter around him, "I'm guessing Dean calls you all sorts of silly nicknames."
"Oh yes," Cas said, a miffed look crossing his face as Dean began to splutter, "He likes to get very creative-"
"It's time to go," Dean interrupted, ears burning red now as Sam smothered his laughs, "Out, now."
"Fine," Sam groaned, dragging himself towards the front door. There was a whole car ride ahead to look forward to after all, especially if Cas could continue to drop gems like that. He gave Dean his best mischievous look on the way out to let him know that there would be no mercy.
Dean's seemingly out of the blue 'Sonuvabitch Sammy!' earned a strange look from Cas, along with Sam's responding snickers, but that was alright.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Sam had his brother back.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Imagine I have a little pepper shaker labeled 'Destiel'. Throughout this series, I've more or less kept a moderate hand on the shaker, but with this chapter, the lid came off and it all got dumped in. Picture a similar scenario with a saltshaker labeled 'Winchester brother moments', and bam you have this chapter!
I know a lot of you are chomping at the bit for Sabriel, and peace my fellow shippers! Thy ship is on a steady course and can be spotted in the near distance. Just hang in there, because Destiel and plot play a game of catch up in this chapter and the next.
For Lost in the Wind, I didn't realize Dean's traits were so contradictory until I'd gotten a few chapters into Chromaticity, and by then I just kind of went with it. As for Dean's POV, I'd probably write a lengthy one shot if I ever get the time. It's not something I'm completely against!
Also, for those readers that have been hanging in there and remember the golden days when I updated more frequently: you lot are the purest, best beings for sticking around. A special shoutout to you guys as it's been over a year since I originally began posting. You're the best!