Song Remains the Same
Chapter 34 / For Me, It's You
"You were looking down on me, lost in outer space.
We laid underneath the stars, strung out and feeling brave."
- Our Lady Peace
What happened?
That was Alex's first coherent thought as she came to. She last remembered seeing Cas on the floor of the church in pain—so when she'd seen the stake just laying there, she remembered thinking what the hell, right? Worth a shot. Well, apparently not. She recalled trying to kill the Whore and then being sent flying clear across the room where she'd hit a wall. She didn't remember anything after that—and it was also probably why her head hurt so bad. Shit. She blinked a couple times, eyes adjusting to a dark room. She was lying on what felt like a rigid motel mattress. And that's when she realized that there was the substantial weight and warmth of someone beside her. Lying beside her.
Even as she was turning her head and trying to see who it was, he spoke. "You're awake." Cas's face was so close that they were practically nose to nose.
Alex jerked her head back in surprise, then regretted the decision, cringing and shutting her eyes tightly against the sudden ripple of pain in her temple. "Ow."
His relief was replaced with worry. "Are you all right? Is the pain very bad?"
"I'm fine, I—" She stopped mid-sentence when she saw the blood trickling out of his nose. Without even doing it consciously, she pushed herself up so that she could see him better. "Are you okay?"
Her question seemed to strike him as odd. "I'm fine," he said, not seeming concerned about himself either way.
She automatically went to wipe the blood away from underneath his nose. "You don't look fine," she said almost accusingly, her thumb dashing away the streak of red. Her eyes darted up to his, which were already looking at her. Her thumb froze in place, her breath caught. And that's when Alex heard a familiar sound—Sam clearing his throat.
Startled and immediately realizing that she and Castiel were not alone, Alex looked up in the direction the noise had come from, using her elbow and forearm to push herself up a bit. Sam stood a few steps off, his arms crossed and a sullen expression on his face. He had a bloody nose. "Sam!" Alex exclaimed. "What happened to you?!"
Her brother grew even more brooding at the question. "Dean happened to me."
Alex sat up all the way, confused as fuck. She didn't see Dean anywhere, and automatically opened her mouth to ask where he was, then went silent before she'd even asked a thing. Something was very wrong. She could tell from Sam's face. She looked at Cas silently, whose expression only furthered her realization that something had happened. Fearing the worst, Alex looked back at Sam in dawning horror. Her voice dropped in volume and trembled. "W-where is he, Sam? Where's Dean?"
Sam's eyes fell away from hers and his jaw clenched. "Gone."
Her stomach dropped. "What do you mean 'gone'?" Alex asked, her tone becoming intense and demanding. Did Sam mean that Dean was dead? Her heartbeat was jabbering in her chest painfully as she waited for an answer in blank terror, remembering what she'd said to Dean last and how she'd left things with him. It was like every worst nightmare she'd ever had was closing in on her, every horror she could imagine coming true… and then, behind her, still reclining on the bed, Cas's deep rumbling voice explained what Sam meant:
"We believe he's gone to… say yes to Michael."
It should have been a relief after what she'd assumed a few seconds ago, but it wasn't. In fact, this was almost worse. Alex looked back at Cas in confused denial—no—no way, Dean wouldn't have done that! But Cas remained grim and resigned, like he saw no other explanation. Totally flabbergasted, Alex whipped her head back at Sam, who nodded heavily. And Alex was filled with sudden, misplaced anger. "Well why didn't you stop him?!"
"I tried—can't you tell?" Sam asked derisively, pointing at his face glibly.
Not really thinking, Alex swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her head was pounding. "We have to go after him!" She stood up too fast and experienced a painful rush of blood to the head.
Sam steadied her. "Whoa. Easy."
"Why the hell would you say it to me like that, Sam?!" Alex demanded shakily, losing her temper in a mild outburst. "That he's 'gone'?" Her voice raised an octave. "I thought you meant he was dead!" The words left a heavy silence in which Sam looked at her sadly.
"I mean, Alex…" her twin started in gentle sorrow, "he might as well be." He looked at her in increasing anguish. "You get that, right?"
She shut her mouth angrily even though she knew he was right. "Don't say that," she whispered. "Don't you fucking say that." She was suddenly so overcome with grief. "Dammit, Sam," she muttered and tried to pull away from her brother's grip. He didn't let go and Alex shut her eyes, growled through gritted teeth, repeating more emphatically this time, to herself more than anyone else, "Dammit!"
"What?" Sam saw that she was holding something back.
"He told me, okay?" she said, staring at her brother helplessly in a sickened daze as she realized what an idiot she'd been. "A couple days ago," she said, staring into her twin's right shoulder unseeingly. The fire died down, leaving her cold. "He told me he was thinking about saying yes." She looked up at her brother, who was shocked. Glancing guiltily over in Cas's direction, Alex struggled to maintain composure. All her previous anger was morphing into the most wretched sense of self-hatred. "I should have told one of you," she muttered.
Sam let go of her, deeply angry. "Yeah, you should have," he said darkly, sending another wave of regret coursing through Alex.
"It wouldn't have changed anything," Cas said, slowly pushing himself up into a sitting position on the bed. "If Dean's mind was made up…" Cas paused. "I doubt any of us could have stopped him." He looked at Alex meaningfully, and she realized he was trying to tell her it wasn't her fault. There was a heavy pause.
"Maybe not," Alex conceded hesitantly. She grew intense again, determined to make it right. "But we're stopping him now."
Sam gave a sharp, joyless laugh. "Oh good, yeah, so do you know where he went? 'Cause I don't." Exasperated, he ran a hand through his hair. "I mean I don't get it, I just—" Sam's face was gaunt. "I can't believe he did this to us."
"…Are you sure you're sure about this?" Alex asked. She didn't want to believe what they were telling her about Dean. "I mean what happened? What did he say? Maybe it's not what you think."
"Sorry, but it is," he told her and shrugged vacantly, seeming to be out of energy. "First of all: He's the one who killed the Whore." He paused, letting that little factoid sink in—Alex had all but forgotten about her for a minute. She felt hope fading. Sam continued. "We came back here, he picked a fight with Cas, stormed outside, said he was gonna change the future. Then he hit me in the face and took off."
Alex fell into unsettled silence, trying to swallow reality, trying to stomach it. All her anger dissipated into confused feelings of how could he? After all the time they'd spent fighting this, all the times Dean had promised her he wouldn't say yes—he was just going to run off in the middle of the night? Abandon them? It made no sense the more she thought about it. "But if he was gonna say yes, why not just, you know, do it? Why drive off and do it?"
"Alex," Sam said her name in a lecturing, correcting tone. "Dean straight up told me he was gonna do it. Okay? I can tell you don't want to believe me but… I'm not making it up or jumping to conclusions. He's saying yes to Michael." Sam looked at her, his expression clearly stating and that's that—end of story.
"And what, you're okay with that?"
He softened, seeming to realize how he'd come off. "No. Of course not." He sighed raggedly and went back to the original question she'd asked, his voice gentler now. "I, uh, I dunno why he'd drive off to do it. I guess he's not gonna do it right away." He thought for a second and expelled a heavy breath. "This is Dean we're talking about. Maybe he'll want a last hurrah."
"What, you mean like bars, girls, Van Halen live?" Alex's tone bordered on sarcastic because she felt so powerless and couldn't believe that it had come to this. Her head felt like it was splitting in half.
Sam was quiet and thoughtful. Then looked at her in epiphany. "Lisa?"
Alex had to think a minute. "Lisa...? Lisa Braeden?" She wasn't sure if she followed Sam's line of logic. "He hasn't even seen her in like two years."
Sam shrugged slightly. "It's where he's went last time he thought his number was up." Well, he did have a point, didn't he. Alex remembered driving halfway across the country to visit her when Dean had been headed straight for Hades on the Hellhound express. She thought hard about it. Maybe Sam was right. "Look, it's a long shot," Sam said slowly, "but it's the only idea I have."
Alex wasn't so sure. But at this point, all she could think about was why Dean would do this. She felt betrayed at a base level. "He told me he wouldn't," she said faintly, more to herself than anyone else. She put her face in a hand and rubbed her forehead with fingertips, trying to massage away the headache and the stress, the sense of being abandoned, the urge to sit down and scream and cry and throw a tantrum like a kid would. How could Dean do this to them? "That stupid, selfish asshole," she muttered in a miserable, wavering voice. She felt someone touch her arm gently. Surprised, she looked up and over. Cas had gotten up at some point and was standing beside her, looking at her in tense worry.
Sam was looking at Cas hopefully. "Cas, you okay enough to zap us around?"
Cas's frown became a touch guilty. "No, not yet. The Whore cast some kind of weakening spell on me." He looked down grimly, his voice lowering in a morose quality. "I'm all but useless. I'm deeply sorry." He cringed a little and sat down, too tired or too weak to keep standing.
Sam and Alex both looked at Cas silently, uncomfortable at his comment about uselessness. Sam attempted to smooth it over. "It's, uh, it's fine Cas. I'll… jack us some wheels." He glanced at Alex cryptically. "Either way, we're leaving, now."
Alex took his cue and began picking up their bags off the floor as he hurriedly threw his books into a backpack. "And if this whole Lisa thing turns out to be a bust?" she ventured, not sure if she was on board with the theory or not.
"It won't," he told her emphatically.
"It better not." She grabbed a metal hanger out of her duffel, tossing it to Sam. He caught it deftly.
"What's that for?" Cas asked. He sat on the bed with a hand on either knee, giving the appearance of exhaustion and discomfort.
"You'll see." Sam went over and hauled the angel to his feet, looping one of the angel's arms around his shoulders. "Come on Cas, you're gonna have to walk a little bit."
They exited the motel, Alex weighed down with all their bags, Sam helping Cas along. The angel shuffled pathetically.
"Sam what the hell do you keep in these bags, bricks?" Alex complained. Her twin wasn't too interested in her question, instead looking at their two options in the parking lot. A beat-up old Ford pickup or a minivan.
"Truck," Sam said decisively—it was closer, anyway—and Alex looked around furtively, tossing their bags into the bed of the pickup. She then took Cas from Sam, helping him around to the other side of the truck. Sam jimmied the lock using the hangar in about five seconds then jumped into the truck, reaching across and unlocking the passenger door. The door groaned loudly when Alex pulled it open. Helping Cas in, Alex got in after him and shut them in. It was a little cramped with the three of them all in one seat.
Sam fumbled underneath the steering wheel, yanking some wires out and brushing them up against each other repeatedly. "Feels sort of weird, stealing a car with an angel watching," he said with a glance at Cas, whose face registered chagrin at the comment. The truck roared to life loudly as the wires sparked together, and Sam glanced at his sister as he shifted the truck into gear. "Battle Creek is like a nine-hour drive," he told them, looking behind as he backed the truck up. "Strap in for the long haul, guys."
And so they headed East, not sure if they would find Dean, not sure if they were right about where he was going, not sure if they could stop him if they did find him.
"Who is Lisa?" Cas asked a couple minutes down the road, breaking the silence.
Sam glanced at his sister, who didn't look like she was in the talkative mood. So he explained, instead. "Old flame of Dean's. They met way back in the day, maybe ninety-eight or ninety-nine." His face wrinkled in thought. "We went to see in her, when was that, two-thousand seven?" He looked at Alex for confirmation.
"Yeah, I guess."
Cas studied her thoughtfully for a minute before turning back to Sam. "Why would he go and see this woman?"
Sam had to think for a minute, giving the impression that he wasn't quite sure about Dean's motivations. "There… haven't been a lot of girls who Dean's actually cared about seeing again. But Lisa… I dunno." Sam was quiet for a minute. "I think he kind of loves her."
Alex looked at Sam in silent surprise. She hadn't expected him to say that. She looked away again, and the truck became silent. Cas watched Alex sidelong. She remained tense and distressed, quiet, staring down at her knees.
He looked down at Alex's hand which rested on top of her leg, just inches away from his hand. He gingerly brushed the back of his hand up against the back of hers.
Her eyes jumped to his hand, and then up to his eyes. For a minute, she didn't do anything, just looked at him with eyes full of an emotion he couldn't name. And then her fingers moved toward his hand, the backs of them brushing against the backs of his. That simple reciprocation made something in his chest swell. And when she gave him the smallest beginnings of a smile, a smile she obviously had to work to give him, a smile that was tinged with pain and fear—the swelling feeling almost felt impossible, like something inside of him would burst. He looked at the scrape across her cheekbone, the dark bruise just above her temple from her fight with the Whore… and the sight of those injuries, small as they were, inspired such a deep sense of failure. He couldn't seem to keep her safe, no matter how hard he tried. Underneath his gaze, Alex's flickered and she looked back down into her lap. But their hands stayed close, and after a couple seconds, she turned her hand, falteringly closing her fingers around his, glancing at him from the corners of her eyes. And even though he felt weaker than he had in a long time, Castiel felt like the simple action of her putting her hand into his could give him the strength to do anything.
A mere hour and a half into the drive as Sam sped down a deserted country road, the car suddenly lurched as a loud explosion somewhere in the engine area shook the entire truck.
"What the hell!" Sam exclaimed, steering the suddenly powerless truck over to the side of the road, coasting on momentum. Alex realized Cas's arm had shot out in front of her as if to shield her or keep her from flying forward.
"Great, just great." Sam got out of the truck and slammed the door, hollering something about, "get a flashlight, will you?"
Sam yanked the hood of the truck open and smoke poured out. He coughed, grimacing. Alex dug through her duffel, finding a flashlight. "What's wrong with it?" Alex asked, squinting down into the haze of smoke as she shined the beam down into the abyss.
"Radiator maybe?" Sam waved a hand in front of his face in an attempt to clear the air. Alex's eyes swept over the smoky jumble of parts as she waved a hand to clear the smoke. And then she spotted the problem and all hope of a quick fix fell away.
"Nope. Not the radiator." She looked at her twin with a fake, sarcastic smile on her face. He gave her a look like she was crazy before he leaned closer over the engine, squinting into the clearing smoke. His face fell when he saw the huge, gaping hole in the engine.
"Are you friggin' kidding me?" he exclaimed, aghast at their bad luck.
"You would pick the truck that was fifty miles from throwing a rod," Alex muttered with a sigh.
Sam made a supremely irritated face and huffed, then threw a hand up, obviously wracking his brain. "Okay so… what, I guess we walk back to that gas station we just passed back there."
"No, let's sit here in the dark and do nothing," Alex countered wryly. She got an exasperated glare from her twin who commented "ha ha" snidely and went to the passenger side door where Cas was attempting to get out, one arm braced against the door, the other against the doorframe.
"Can you walk, Cas?" Sam asked.
Castiel shot him a glance that could only be called cranky. "Yes, of course I can walk." The angel promptly stumbled, nearly faceplanting onto the side of the road. Sam managed to catch him before that could happen and then push him back where he could lean against the truck. Sam turned and looked at Alex, who was standing there watching, unable to believe how wrong every little thing was going for them right now.
"...He can't walk." Sam was clearly sharing her exasperation. He looked around, casting for ideas on what to do. Alex recognized how stressed Sam was. He was probably feeling just as bad as she was.
"How about I go back to the gas station, swipe another ride, and then come get you guys?" Alex offered.
Her twin stopped racking his brain, considered, then nodded in agreement, but not without a slight edit on what she had proposed: "Yeah, good plan, but I'll go so you can stay here with Cas." Of all things a little smirk came across his face. "I think we both know he likes you better than me." A little sheepish at the call out, Alex tried not to smile and failed. Sam smiled back, his hand moving back to take something out of the waistband of his jeans. "Just in case you need it," he told her, holding his pistol out to her. She didn't take it, opening her mouth to argue, but Sam's expression was deadly serious. "Take it."
Alex stared at him, conflicted and suddenly worried, but she did what he said after a couple seconds of unwillingness. She took the gun and tucked it down it into the waistband of her jeans at the small of her back, cursing herself for leaving her firearm in the Impala.
Sam nodded tersely and he turned to go, but Alex said his name, stopping him. "Sam." He turned, eyebrows raised in expectancy. She had maybe lost one brother tonight after parting on shit terms. She wasn't gonna let that happen again.
She hesitated, then went to her twin and hugged her arms around him tightly, surprising him with the suddenness and intensity of her actions. He reacted slowly, hugged her back uncertainty. When she drew back to look him in the eye, she was tense. She didn't tell him what she really wanted to say. Instead she settled on, "Be careful, okay?"
And God bless her twin who saw right through her silent fears. His face softened and he squeezed her arm gently, looking her in the eye and getting that knowing look. He held her gaze earnestly and told her in no uncertain terms, "I'll be back. I'm not going anywhere, okay?"
Her face crumpled with emotion, eyes filling with tears as she nodded. "Okay." And Sam hugged her, tightly this time. Alex fought to keep from breaking down, struggling to regulate her breathing.
When they broke apart, she nodded and forcing a thin smile. "Go on, time's wasting."
Sam glanced back at Cas, who was silent and watchful about ten feet away. "Hey Cas, take care of her, all right?" Cas looked as though Sam had insulted him, but Sam was looking back at his sister and didn't notice. "I won't be long."
"All right."
Sam shoved his hands into his pockets and headed down the road at a brisk stride, his hulking form becoming an inky silhouette as he got further and further away.
Alex watched him go, feeling more and more like this was the future she was going to be living in—one where both of her brothers were gone. She almost couldn't turn around and face Cas because she felt so emotionally raw. So much had happened in the past twenty-four hours, and it all left her completely overwhelmed.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, took in a deep breath, and turned around to look at Cas, who stood at the cab of the truck. He was holding onto the edge of the truck bed, looking at her in what was obvious concern. Alex wandered over to the end of the truck near the tailgate, but didn't go any closer to him. She couldn't think of a single thing to say. She just wanted to smash something to pieces, wanted to punch Dean in the face and shake him until he came to his senses. And even though part of her needed nothing more than to go to Cas and be held, she felt herself reverting. Like old times, she found herself wanting to be left alone in silence with her pain. It was easier where no one pried in and pressed at breakable things like her thoughts and feelings.
"This has been an eventful evening," Cas finally said, breaking the silence hesitantly. Alex frowned slightly, looking up from where she'd been staring at the ground—was he trying to joke? Was he trying to get her to talk to him? His expression clouded. "I'm sorry Alex." Her eyebrows moved together questioningly, and he let out an unhappy sigh. And she could already tell he was going to start beating himself up again before he even opened his mouth. "I failed to protect y—"
She felt so much sudden anger and she snapped, because one person having a pity party was more than enough for her. "Stop, Cas! Just don't." He was surprised by her outburst, and his surprise turned to hurt as she flat-out ranted at him in misguided anger. "You're always whining about how you didn't protect me this time and how you failed me that time, and just..." her fiery anger died out and she felt herself teetering on the edge of great and weary sadness. She shook her head, quiet now. "Can you just not?" She shut her eyes, trying to get a handle on herself, miserable because now she'd gone and been rude to Cas, who didn't deserve it.
She opened her aching eyes, and he might as well have been a wounded puppy with the way he was looking at her in confused misunderstanding. "Why are you upset with me?"
"I'm not… I'm not upset with you," she managed weakly, wanting to hide. "I'm just upset."
He came toward her, using the edge of the truck bed as support as he shakily covered the distance between them. Then he stumbled badly, only staying on his feet because of how tightly he held onto the truck and because she'd lunged forward, half catching him. He seemed ashamed.
"Jesus, Cas, you can barely stand," Alex said, realizing just how weak he must be feeling. "Sit down, okay? Come here." She guided him to the truck bed and yanked the handle up, letting the tail gate down with a loud creaky thud.
She helped him sit there and he looked down at his feet, which dangled in the air a few inches above the ground. "I seem to be more and more useless these days," he commented blandly, setting her off again.
"You're not useless, will you stop saying that?" She couldn't disguise how mad his self-loathing comments made her. He looked at her sadly, as if he didn't understand how she could see him as anything other than useless. She wondered if he'd be this weakened if he hadn't been cut off from Heaven. She felt so cynical and guarded, so to blame for what he had become—someone who thought he was useless, who felt less than worthy, when she was the one who was useless and unworthy and stupid. "Is it worth it?" she asked him in a decidedly bitter tone. "Being cut off from Heaven and stuck down here with us in the middle of all this hopeless bullshit?"
His reply was startlingly swift. "Yes." His eyebrows moved toward each other in earnest, as if he didn't know how she could even ask him that. "I'm with you."
His heartfelt response touched a raw nerve and the emotion Alex had been struggling to hold down broke free, angry tears springing to her eyes. "Why the hell would you want that?" she asked harshly and turned away, walking to the tail light on the opposite end of the truck, hating herself and feeling like it was her fault Dean had left, her fault Sam hadn't wanted to stay with the family back when they'd been teenagers, her fault she hadn't been good enough for Dad to love more than he had—but mostly she felt that it was her fault that she had compromised Castiel and her fault that they were in too deep and tangled up in this complicated, uncharted territory.
So when she heard the tailgate groaning and his feet hitting the ground, when she felt his hands on either side of her arms, when she heard him say her name with a voice so full of caring and worry... she couldn't fight him off or turn him away; she didn't want to. She couldn't refuse her relentless need for him. She surrendered and turned, going into his arms, letting him hold her as the tears came even though she was ashamed of herself. "How could he?" she asked brokenly. "Why would he just leave? Why would he abandon us, me?" Her heart felt destroyed. "He said he would never do that. He promised me he wouldn't say yes."
She felt his hand resting against the back of her head, the warm and scruffy skin of his cheek and lower jaw pressed against the side of her temple. Against her back, his hand pulled her closer soothingly, whether he intended it that way or not. And she shut her eyes, the tension fading as she focused on the feeling of his chest rising and falling. How would things be, she wondered, if they were just two people? But they weren't. They were Castiel, the outcast angel who had fallen into her family and Alex, the human girl whose brothers were main players in the end of days. She wondered sadly if she'd been the straw that broke the camel's back. The thing that had tipped the scales for Dean and had made him decide to say "yes." It made sense now.
Alex drew back and looked up into the angel's eyes. "If he hadn't seen us, Cas... he wouldn't have gone," she told him softly, feeling so guilty, but also upset because she shouldn't have to choose between her brother and the one she loved.
He pressed his hand against the side of her face. "Why do you think that?" His thumb brushed a tear streak away.
"Because of what Lucifer said to us when we were in twenty-fourteen. He told Dean that he wouldn't say yes to Michael, that he wouldn't kill Sam, that he wouldn't be able to save me from my own foolish choices…" she trailed off, unable to say more.
"Me," Cas said heavily, understanding the unspoken implication of 'foolish choices.' Hearing him say that broke something inside of her. He fell into deep and troubled thought. "I'm tearing your family apart, Alex."
She almost smiled at that comment, and it was a jaded, sad little smile. "This family's been on the rocks a long time before you came into the picture, Cas," she told him honestly, her voice carrying heavy notes as she thought of how true that was. However, she was wondering now what Sam meant by Dean 'picking a fight' with Cas, and she looked at him carefully, suddenly suspicious. "What exactly did Dean say to you?"
Cas didn't have to think back—he answered immediately, like it was all he'd been thinking about. "That I'm risking your life. That I'm selfish and if I wanted to keep you safe I'd walk away."
"He would say that crap," Alex muttered angrily.
Castiel just looked at her sadly. "It's not 'crap' though, is it?" The question, so gently said, caught her off guard and left her speechless. Cas looked down, his expression twisting in anxiety and guilt. "He implied that I'm… taking advantage of you."
Her eyebrows slammed together in an angry frown. "Now that is shit," she told him, leaving no room for argument. But he didn't look convinced and Alex felt her emotions running high. She could literally pummel her older brother. "You're not taking advantage of me, Cas, and I am not some kid!" She had to take a few deep calming breaths. "He acts like I don't know how to think for myself but I do. And I know what I'm doing with you."
"...And what is that, exactly?" Cas asked, startling her, not only because of the earnest, anxious way he sounded when he asked—but because she realized she didn't quite know how to answer. What was she doing with him? Who was he to her? He just wasn't something you could just put into earth terms—boyfriend? Lover? Friend? None of those seemed right. The only word that came to mind for her, when she thought of him, was everything. He was everything. He was so unlike what she had expected to encounter, maybe because she had always believed, deep down, that she was meant to be alone. Castiel was nothing she could have dreamt up in a thousand years. He was a sum of contrasts, as intense and as fierce as a volcanic eruption and at the same time as quiet and as gentle as a stream cutting through the heart of a forest. She glimpsed, sometimes, how otherworldly and magnificent he was, how divine. And she wondered why such a creature such as him would look at her the way that he did, would vow himself to her, would kiss her in a way that made her feel like she was his world.
At her silence Cas grew even more downtrodden and looked away. "He's right," he said softly. "You deserve far, far better than me."
Shock wasn't a strong enough word for what Alex felt when Cas said that. "Dean said that? I am gonna strangle him." The anger faded as she thought about what she'd just said. "If he's not dead already." She heaved a charged, weary sigh, regarding Castiel in tense sadness. Didn't he know how, even though he wasn't technically a man, he was the best one she'd ever met? "Cas—there is no one better than you."
His face registered uncertain confusion. "I don't understand how you can think that." The deep thought on his face gave the appearance of measured deliberation. "Every minute I spend with you is something I value beyond compare, but… I'm not worthy. And I feel very guilty."
His words were painful barbs. "…Don't feel guilty," she pled softly.
"I do, though." His morose state only increased as his eyes traveled her face and took in her distressed features. "And now I've upset you."
"...I just don't want you to feel guilty," she said, overwhelmed with how hard this was. She looked up at him imploringly, gathering her courage, trying to tell him all she felt. "You said to me, earlier tonight, that you thought maybe it didn't matter that we're different from each other. And I agree, it doesn't matter, or it doesn't have to matter..." His eyes looked back and forth between hers as she forged ahead. "It doesn't change anything about how I feel, either." She saw how deeply the words affected him—like he couldn't believe it, like it filled him with wonder and worry all at the same time. She swallowed, continuing. "But… we need to face the facts, Cas. The things that make us different make this hard. There's like a thousand things against us." She took his hands gently, hesitantly looking up to him. This was one of the scariest things she'd ever done, telling him her innermost thoughts. "But I… I still want it. I still want this."
He was soft. "Do you truly mean that?"
"Yes."
"I… I feel the same," he told her earnestly, fumbling with the heavy emotional content of the conversation.
She felt exhausted and drained by it too, but like they were getting somewhere. She couldn't stop now. "That's what counts," she told him emphatically. "How we feel. What we think about us. Not Dean, not Sam, not Heaven, not Hell. Us. You and me. That's what matters."
His gaze was steady on hers. "You're what matters." He became upset, afraid almost. "I don't know how to be what you need," he said and it was nearly a protest. "I'm not right for you."
She looked at him through swimming vision. This was the moment of truth. "But Cas... there's no one else. For me... it's you." She said it while struggling to keep her face from twisting up in all the emotion she felt in her words. "And that's it." End of story. No one else, ever. That's how deep it went, how in love she felt.
His expression was so touched that he could have been close to tears. She suddenly found herself being pulled close into an unexpected kiss that was charged with great amounts of soulfulness. She was set on fire, feeling like sparks were raining down over her. And responding urgently, trying to pour all the things she felt for him into the kiss, she pressed him forward. He backed up against the truck's side and she thought maybe his knees buckled because his entire body seemed to stagger—and breathless, they broke the kiss, looking at each other in mutual surprise.
He stared at her in dawning wonder, breathing a little heavier than usual. "How do you make me feel so much?" he asked slowly, as if he were in awe all over again at how kissing her made him feel. His question seemed to remind him of something or trigger another question, because his voice lowered, his expression began to border on anxious. "Is it wrong? To want..." He trailed off into silence, giving the impression that he was slightly embarrassed.
"To want what?"
In response, his hand moved down from where it had rested against her waist—and his thumb grazed against her hip bone through the fabric of her jeans. She didn't miss his meaning, especially when his dark eyes met hers. Oh.
She suddenly felt very aware of herself and of him and of how air was in short supply. Her mouth had gone dry, her pulse was like butterfly wings. He wanted to know if it was wrong to want her, and realizing that was what he was asking made her completely flustered in the most pleasant, aching way. "N-no," she stuttered breathlessly, trying to focus on answering his question, instead of how near she was to him. "It's not wrong to want to be close to someone." She moved her hand from his arm up to the side of his face, brushing the backs of her fingers along the side of his face tenderly.
He covered her hand with his own, grasping gently as he leaned in to kiss her again—and then headlights swept over them. By instinct they stepped apart, looking into the light from the approaching car—and then were left realizing it wasn't Sam when the car passed them by, leaving them in silence and darkness once again. And feeling suddenly bashful, Alex backed up a little.
"You, uh, you should sit down," she told him, indicating the tail gate again—she wasn't sure how he'd managed to stand all this time, he still looked really drained. He looked at her in faintly perplexed bewilderment, then did as she'd said—sat down in the dead center and settled himself there… and then startled her when he very awkwardly patted the spot beside himself. When she looked at him in surprise, he seemed to think it was because she didn't understand the gesture.
"It means I'd like you to sit beside me," he explained, and she was immediately rendered helpless at the cute comment, grinning crookedly.
Should she really be that surprised or amused about the things he was learning and doing these days? He was absorbing at an amazing fast rate, becoming human in so many ways—and she knew that best of all. After all, he'd had sex with her just a day ago… and he wanted her again that way. The thought alone could have turned her into jello, and a little uneasy at how fast she was becoming physically aroused, she sat beside him, glancing at him furtively. He wasn't the only one who wanted it again. And she wondered if she laid down right there and pulled him to her, if he'd make love to her right then and there under the starry night sky. She squeezed her legs together tightly, clearing her throat self-consciously. She looked up at the night sky, rubbing the back of her neck with her hand. "So, uh, you been out there?" she asked him, trying to think of anything to say to fill the awkward feeling silence. "To the stars?"
"I've been everywhere," he told her, looking from the sky to her, unaware of her more illicit thoughts. "But I like being here." With you. He didn't say it out loud, but he didn't have to. They looked at each other for a long moment, and then he looked back up. "There." He pointed and she followed his gaze. "That's the constellation Lyra," he told her. She smiled to herself because she recognized it. For the moment, she forgot her physical discomfort.
She leaned a little closer to him, indicated either side of Lyra. "And that's Hercules there... and Cygnus on the other side." He looked mildly surprised. "What?" She shrugged a shoulder up toward her ear humbly. "I once had a study guide of constellations and a twelve-hour car ride, what else was I gonna do?"
His expression was fond and his lips were upturned. He looked back to the stars, his face soft and open. She liked when he looked like that. "The star Vega, there at the top right of the Lyra constellation… do you see it?"
It was kind of hard to miss—it was the brightest one in the constellation. "Yeah..." she confirmed slowly. And for a minute he said nothing more and she thought he'd had no greater point to make.
And then he spoke, his husky voice full of years and experiences and memories. "There's a story that the angels tell," he said, and the way he said those seven words rendered Alex into a state of rapt attention, because whatever he was about to say was important—she could tell. "They say that every star in the galaxy belongs to a person who has lived, is living, or ever will live. Every star is…" he thought about it for a moment, "an echo of a soul, I suppose you could say." He looked at Vega again, his eyes fond as they reflected the starry host. His mouth lifted almost imperceptibly into the ghost of a smile. His eyes crinkled a little at the edges. "I always thought that one would be yours."
Alex couldn't look away from her guardian angel. Strange he would say 'always,' since he was as old as time and she, well, wasn't.
He seemed to realize his vagueness and corrected himself. "Well. Ever since I first saw you." He grew distantly reminiscent, a soft smile softening his face further. "I wasn't even in this vessel yet when I started watching over you." Their eyes met for a long, fascinated moment. Him wondering about her. And her wondering about him. Becoming fractionally more fascinated in the most intense way, Cas's head tilted to the side by a few small degrees. "But... I think sometimes you sensed me."
It was like everything went still when he said that. The meaning of his words clicked immediately, making Alex's jaw sag open softly. After Dean died, in the depths of her despair sometimes she'd felt a warmth nearby, the slight kiss of a breeze that seemed otherworldly somehow—leaving her with the comforting impression that some benevolent and protective force was near. That she wasn't alone. There had sometimes been strange flashes of light at the edge of her vision too. And while not knowing the source had bothered her, in time she'd imagined that perhaps it was Dean's spirit, coming to keep her company beyond the grave. "That was you?" she breathed out, amazed and stunned.
He was struck tenderhearted by her question. "It was me," he confirmed quietly. Something incredible hovered between them keenly, sending a thrill through Alex's chest.
How did she even begin to respond? She was caught between a feeling of reverence and a giddy feeling she couldn't quite name. "My guardian angel..." she finally commented softly, amazed as it settled over her. How he'd been caring for her in ways she never knew all along. It made her think about everything in new light. Including the first time she'd seen him in the flesh. "It must have been so strange when we first met. How I thought..." She trailed off, because their first in-person meeting she'd been ready to kill him. Now, remembering the way he looked at her that day... she understood things differently. "How I thought you were an enemy." She'd been so very wrong.
Cas contemplated her intently. "Well, I understood why, to a certain degree..." His volume lowered just slightly. "But I suppose a small part of me did hope you would recognize me."
The sweetness of purity in those words he spoke. Alex became ruefully apologetic, cracking a weak, self-conscious grin and scratching the back of her neck in an awkward bid to do something with herself. "Well... sometimes I'm a little slow on the uptake I guess." She thought a moment more as she digested. "Why didn't you tell me sooner, Cas?"
He turned a shade sadder. "I didn't think you would believe me." Alex resonated with his more somber expression. She probably wouldn't have. He met her gaze again. His eyes were warm. "I'm glad you do now."
That warmth reached into her depths easily, leaving her softer inside. "Me too," she whispered, amazed as she thought of it: from complete strangers to this. And while it should have thrilled her, it caused feelings of confusion. "Cas, I'm sorry, I just... I don't understand," she managed tentatively after a moment. "What you saw in me then. Or what you see in me now." She fidgeted, dodging his intense eye contact. "I'm just like this weird, outcast girl." A freak of nature, nowhere near normal, a bumbling emotional mess. Finally, her dark, worried eyes met his. "Why me?"
Of all things, an odd little smile came over his face. "It's ironic, I suppose," he mused gently. "Because I wonder the same thing. Why you would ever want me." Alex felt her eyebrows rising in tandem with a touched smile. Faltering, he reached over and covered her hand with his gingerly, surprising her with the emotion filling his eyes. He spoke very slowly but purposefully, like he'd thought his words over for a long time. "Nothing ever meant anything to me until you." Cas looked down to their hands, his expression intense. "I existed for millennia in this crowded universe. But I was alone." He seemed to have thought about this a lot. His eyes slid back up to hers. "I don't feel that way when I'm with you."
Alex exhaled softly, blinking a few times against vast emotion. What he said was an echo of what her soul felt. When he was there at her side, she felt part of something, like she belonged in a way she never had before. It was intense and overwhelming and she was suddenly terrified to lose it—all she ever did was lose things, people, relationships—it was her curse. She felt like she could cry again, her emotions were in such a sudden whipped up frenzy. "I just don't want you to leave me," she blurted out in a harsh whisper, filled to the brim with fear that he too would walk away.
Castiel was taken aback. "I won't," he told her in no uncertain terms, trying to convey himself and his devotion in the way he spoke the words, but Alex just became more upset—however, it was in that unsettled, quiet way she had.
"I lose everyone," she whispered. Her eyes were becoming distant, like she was fading away. "Everyone."
His hand still rested on hers and he tightened his fingers through hers, jolting her back from wherever her mind was going. "No. Not everyone," he told her, wishing he knew a way to really reassure her that he wouldn't leave her—not now, and not ever. She didn't look convinced, she just looked fearful—and Cas felt abysmal. He didn't know how to comfort her. How could he prove it? How could he show her? He moved his hand from hers to put his arm around her shoulder, hesitating, because he wasn't sure if she would accept or reject the gesture. He didn't have to wonder long, because even before his arm stopped moving, she responded as if that was what she'd been waiting for—she leaned into him, hugging her arms around his middle, putting her head against the front of his shoulder, nestling against him.
And the fierce feelings in his chest soared. It didn't matter to him what the future brought, as long as he could remain at her side, protecting her. He supposed he could understand how she was so hesitant to believe he would stay—she'd lived a life where she'd been let down and ignored countless times. So Castiel vowed to prove himself worthy of her and of this. Whatever 'this' truly was. Two beings, called to each other without being able to stop themselves. Cas let his head lean down over hers, and he wasn't sure how something could feel beautiful… but she did. And without meaning to, he was suddenly thinking of the Vatican. How she had felt, sounded—how it had all made him feel. At the unbidden memories, Castiel felt as though the night had become ten degrees warmer, like the collar of his shirt was too tight against his neck.
Could that happen between them again? If it did happen again, would it happen differently? Was he supposed to initiate it? And if he was, how was he supposed to go about doing that? Would it feel the same? He wondered that if tonight, if he laid them down there in the bed of this truck, if she'd let him give her the only thing he knew how to: himself. Growing embarrassed at himself, Castiel felt his jaw tighten. Was it wrong to have these thoughts about her?
He felt her shift slightly in his arms and he tilted his head down toward hers, his lips brushing against the hair at the crown of her head. He didn't know what else to do but to tell her. "I won't leave you," he said. Her arms tightened around him.
How could either have known that what he'd just said, even though he meant it, wouldn't turn out to be true?
A few minutes later, Sam would return to find them like that—feet dangling over the end of the truck tailgate, arms wrapped around each other. He would always remember the sight of them like that as the headlights of the stolen car he was driving washed over them. Sam Winchester realized that night, after seeing them like that together, that Castiel loved his sister. There was just no other way to say it or put it, there was no going back from that conclusion for Sam. It was almost frightening to him to see the angel hold his sister like that, and he wasn't sure why, only that the intensity and quiet fierceness that Cas exuded and held Alex with was staggering to look at.
The Next Morning
Battle Creek, Michigan
Sam let out a heavy, stressed-out sigh, keeping one hand on the steering wheel of the stolen Jeep while he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to work out a sore knot that had built up there overnight. He glanced into the rear view and saw Alex looking out the window with Cas beside her. They had been driving around Battle Creek for a couple hours now, looking for Dean the old-fashioned way: trying to spot the Impala. He'd called Bobby and let him know what was going on, asking him to keep an ear out for any leads. But truthfully, Sam felt hopeless. He was so devastated that Dean would do this. Even if they did find him, what if it was too late? And if it wasn't too late, what if Dean refused to get down off the proverbial ledge?
Sam felt so foul at the thought of Dean. This was just unfair to everyone; this was the definition of fucked up. He didn't understand why Dean thought saying yes to Michael would do anyone any good. Didn't he remember about how Lucifer was supposed to be present for the angelic boxing match, too? Didn't he remember that Sam was under no circumstances saying yes, especially not now? He'd made his mind up a long time ago to fight tooth and nail not to let the devil have him, ever.
Jesus, Dean, how could you do this to us?
Sam scanned the parking lot of another motel they cruised by, hopeful to see the familiar sleek black shape of his brother's car—but there was nothing. Sam wasn't used to being the one in charge. Not that he wasn't a take-charge kind of guy, but with Dean, there was only room for one leader. Sam had basically never overseen the family or been in charge of taking care of his twin—not like Dean had been. So today he was trying not to crack under the pressure he was putting on himself to find his brother, save the world, and keep his family safe. He'd been trying to focus on one small step at a time: Steal a car. Get to Battle Creek. Track down Lisa. Make sure Alex didn't fall apart. Make sure Cas rested up and got better as fast as possible. He'd actually told Sam a few hours ago he thought he was well enough to start shazaming around again, but Sam told him to save it for when they found Dean, just in case it weakened him again.
Sam felt his stress tripling as they passed a bar. No Impala. They'd gone to see Lisa as soon as they got into town and found out Dean had visited and told her goodbye, basically. Sam was close to panicking. Where the hell was he? There were only so many bars and motels and gas stations in this town, and they'd driven by most of them twice now.
Seeing Lisa again had brought back a lot of memories for Sam. She'd been shocked to see them, and then a little weirded out when Cas had asked within her earshot, "this is the woman who Dean loves?"
It was weird how Cas could be so innocent and childlike in his cluelessness one minute, then intense at frightening levels at other times. Maybe that's why Sam felt the beginnings of worry when it came to Cas and Alex. Because he wasn't entirely sure what the guy was capable of. But, if Cas loved Alex—and Sam knew he did—he knew that the angel would never hurt her.
Even if it was probably the oddest pairing on the planet, Sam could appreciate the fact that someone cared so much about his baby sister's wellbeing. He didn't understand why Dean couldn't. If Dean was going to flip his shit over seeing a kiss or whatever, Sam didn't even want to know what Dean would have done if he'd seen what Sam had, in the kitchen of that restaurant. Sam got embarrassed fast, remembering Cas and Alex making out against the wall. Dean would probably have murdered Castiel if he'd seen that.
Sam thought about how protective Dean was, how overprotective… and how it made zero sense that he thought walking away and leaving them right now was the correct thing to do. Had Dean lost his mind? Had he literally gone insane? Sam was so harrowed by the entire thing. His only hope was that he could talk some sense into his brother when… and if… they found him.
He slowed down as they drove by another motel parking lot. He scanned the cars parked there, desperate to see the familiar sight of the Impala.
Mike's Travel Inn
Room 100
Dean folded up his beloved, worn out leather jacket and set it down into the brown box. He drew his keys out of his back pocket, feeling an unexpected twinge—Alex's old silver whistle dangled from the silver loop next to the couple of keys he owned. His chest clenched in pain and he closed his fingers around the whistle and keys, taking a moment before tossing them down on top of the jacket. He took his gun out of his waistband and removed the clip, checked it for bullets, then snapped it back in and set the pistol in beside the keys. And that was it. These things were what he would leave behind.
Dean wondered how the hell these three little things were all that would be left of him when he was gone—and only one of them was actually his—the gun. The jacket? That was Dad's. The whistle? That was Alex's.
If Dean had been an optimist, he wouldn't be packing his things and preparing to leave a letter for the people he loved. But he wasn't an optimist, he was a realist. Yeah, Michael said he'd spare Dean and maybe he would. But Dean wasn't banking on it—he didn't exactly trust angels or take them at their word. Basically, he didn't foresee himself coming back from what he was about to do. And it sucked a lot, but in his mind, he was taking one for the team and saving the people that he could.
Dean poured himself some dark whiskey and took a sip of the familiar amber liquid. It burned good and never got old. If nothing else, he was gonna make sure Michael agreed to some specific things. Guarantees of safety. For Lisa and Ben. For Bobby. And for his sister, who needed someone to look after her more than almost anyone. He thought of how stupid she was, how shortsighted. There was a painful feeling in the bottom of his throat when he thought about leaving her alone. He'd promised he never would.
Forcing himself to focus, Dean pulled a chair up to the little motel table, took a pen up in his hand, and pulled a sheet of motel letterhead over. He paused, the reality of what he was doing coming over him all over again.
He began to write.
Sam, Alex, and Bobby—
Given what's about to happen, I'll be surprised if this package ever finds you. But if it does, I want you three to know that what I'm doing isn't about giving up. John taught us better than that. This is about time. We've run out of it.
Left the Impala in Cicero. Where I'm going, we don't need roads. I know you'll look after her for me. Bobby—you've taken more for the team than anyone could ever ask. That makes you an honorary Winchester in my book.
Sam. You told me once that you pray every day. Not sure if that's still true. Probably isn't, but if it is, give it one last try for me. And Sammy—one Winchester lost to this fight is enough. When it's over, after you've said yes and given in to Lucifer, I want you to know I'm gonna make good on what we talked about. You won't be alone at the end. I love you and I'm sorry it had to end this way, but at least it'll be the two of us together. If I have to go out, it makes it better that it'll be with you.
Alex. Words can't say how much I love you. Please believe me when I say that everything I ever did was me trying to protect you. Hopefully what I'm about to do will make up for all the times I failed. I know it's hard to understand, but I'm not just doing this for the greater good—I'm also doing it for you. I know you don't believe me but I just want what's best for you. I mean that. Like I always told you, kiddo: keep your chin up, your head down, your aim straight. Know that I'm proud of you.
If I come back from this, I don't expect any of you to forgive me, and that's okay. I'm doing this because it's the right thing to do. You all know what a stubborn son of a bitch I am, so I hope you believe me when I say I didn't want to do this, and honestly, as I write this letter, I still don't. I'd rather stay here with you crazy ole bastards. But that's not an option anymore. I know that me saying 'no' to Michael is what causes all that crap in 2014. I've decided I can't let that version of tomorrow happen. So, here's to a brighter future.
Give 'em hell, kids, and pour a cold one out for me.
— D.W.
It wasn't the best letter in the world, it left miles of things unsaid, but it would have to do. He folded it up, put it in an envelope, and set it on top of everything he'd packed up in the box of his personal effects. He sealed the box slowly, taking his time. Like he'd said in the letter, he wasn't eager to do this. Not at all. And he kept catching sight of himself in the mirror above the dresser and feeling despicable. No letter would ever make Sam or Alex understand. Especially Alex. He knew how abandoned she'd feel, and it caused him so much pain that he had to stop and bring a hand to his face. He'd promised Dad he'd always take care of Sammy and Al, and now just look at him. He was leaving them to the mercy of the world, he was accepting the fact that Sam would be Lucifer's vessel, he was leaving Alex without even saying goodbye and taking off after the worst fight they'd ever had.
And Dean thought of the three of them playing army men in the back of the car on long road trips and shoving Legos into the crevices of the Impala and racing each other up and down motel hallways and sharing candy late at night when Dad wasn't there and Alex blowing him smoochy kisses when she'd been really little and Sam screaming with victorious glee the one time he beat Dean at arm wrestling.
Dean lost it for a minute, crying shamefully and quietly, hating the sound of his shuddering breaths. He tightened his hand on his face. He was overwhelmed with knowledge of what he was walking away from. The family that he loved with everything he had.
After a minute Dean forcefully composed himself, finished taping the box shut, addressed it to Bobby, and decided to pour himself some more whiskey. He wasn't too affected by the stuff anymore, but it was worth a shot to try and dull the pain. And then heard a sound behind himself. He looked up into the mirror and was shocked at what he saw.
"What, you sending someone a candy-gram?"
Dean turned to face his siblings—Sam looked grim and disappointed, Alex like she might literally kill him. And the sight of them—he thought he'd laid eyes on them for the last time—almost broke him.
"How'd you find me?" he asked hollowly, not letting them see his real emotions. And then without warning Alex went apeshit, lunging at him across the dividing space to sock him across the face with so much vicious force that he stumbled backwards and subsequently knocked everything off the little motel table.
Shocked at the wallop, Dean reeled, just barely remaining on his feet, automatically clutching at his face—he could taste blood, he'd bitten the inside of his mouth or something. "Holy shit, Alex!" Dean exclaimed, looking at his fuming little sister in a mixture of indignant anger and slightly impressed surprise at how good of a swing she could throw. "Jesus!" He gingerly touched his jaw.
"Don't act like you don't deserve that," she spat at him, livid and trembling, madder than he'd seen her in a long, long time. "What the hell are you doing?!"
Dean glanced at Sam, who stood off grimly. And he was so overwhelmed with grief, because he realized there just wasn't a way for him to explain it. Not really. And he couldn't afford to let them see how he was really feeling. If he was gonna do this, he had to make them think he was an asshole. It'd make it easier on all of them in the end. "I'm doing what I have to do," Dean told her, reverting to his cold demeanor.
"No one makes Dean Winchester do anything," she challenged. He looked down. She would have been right about that up until recently.
"You're gonna kill yourself, right?" Sam asked quietly.
Dean let out a jaded breath. "I'm not gonna kill myself."
"No? You told me you're gonna let Michael make you his Muppet… that's basically kissing your life goodbye, Dean." Sam shook his head, disgusted. "What the hell, man? This is how it ends? You just… walk out on us?"
"Yeah, I guess," Dean said apathetically, and then saw Alex's jaw clench, her fists curl in, and he leaned away from her, eyeing her closely. "Easy, tiger, not the face." He got a dirty look as she crossed her arms and stalked off a few steps to contain herself.
Sam came closer, his expression full of accusing anger. "How could you do that, Dean? Leave us like that?"
And all the tender things Dean had been feeling for his siblings a minute ago were forgotten in favor of indignant anger. "How could I?" Dean was unable to believe Sam of all people would ask him that. It sparked anger, because Sam wasn't the one who knew what it felt like to be abandoned—that was Dean. "All you've ever done is run away!" Sam's face fell guiltily.
"Oh so that makes it okay?" Alex asked, and her bitchy tone really pushed some of Dean's buttons, because no, oh no, he had not forgotten about their little talk outside the church or the sight of her kissing Cas. He looked at her bitterly, feeling ganged up on, hopeless, angry, helpless.
"You know, you're a lot of big talk Al, but you're not in my shoes. If I remember right, you've run away too, remember? Where was all your self-righteous crap then?" He almost sneered at this point. "And by the way, where's your precious boyfriend? Left like usual, didn't he?"
She bristled at his comment but said nothing, clamping her mouth into a thin line. Sam was getting heated. "Listen Dean. I was wrong, okay? Every single time I ran away! Just… please." He gave Dean his best sad eyes, and Dean vaguely thought man, if eyebrows could win academy awards for best performance. "Not now," Sam was imploring. "Bobby's working on something."
"Oh, really?" Dean said, not believing Sam's simpering act for a second. "What, huh? Enlighten me." Sam said nothing. "You two got nothing and you know it."
"Maybe we don't," Alex admitted. "But we will."
Her fighting spirit was admirable but unfortunately wasted on him. "No... we won't," he told her unpleasantly, then set them both with an immovable, decided look. "Guys—my mind's made up. I'm doing this, like it or not."
"Not gonna happen," Sam said quietly, and his eyes jumped up to Dean's. "You know we have to stop you. "
Dean nodded, accepting that this was where it was gonna have to go. "Yeah, well, you can try," he told them, and there was a great, weighty sadness on his shoulders as he looked between the two of them. He didn't want to have to do this. Trying to dissuade them, he looked at Sam pointedly. "Just remember: You're not all hopped up on demon blood this time, Sam. And Barbie over there—yeah, she got the jump on me a minute ago, but she isn't exactly a heavyweight."
"We're not gonna fight you Dean," his sister said, to which he shrugged, his mouth pressing into a hard line.
"You're gonna have to."
"No. We're not," Sam said. "You're gonna come nice and quiet."
Dean chuckled just barely, a short and airy sound. They had another thing coming if they really thought that he was gonna just go with them. "Says who?"
And then behind him, a familiar, deep voice: "Says me."
Dean whipped around to find Castiel standing behind him, and before Dean could even open his mouth, he felt Cas's fingers touching to his forehead—and the world went pitch black.