This is it. Final chapter. For real. It's all in the title. Hope you enjoy it and thank you so much for reading!
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Freedom is not instant happiness.
They did not wake up to a perfect world, where everything suddenly clicked into place and felt right. Sam went on his morning run. Dean tried to sneak bacon – real bacon – into his brother's breakfast. He would walk Miracle. They would watch a movie. They would roam the internet for cases, for signs of evil, for the other shoe to drop. A life of hunting keeping them on edge.
Freedom does not change the past.
Dean had never imagined that they would celebrate free will alone. When he half-jokingly had suggested that they should go to the beach and do every stereotypical touristy thing imaginable, it had been a poorly disguised dream. All he wanted was Sam, Cas and Jack by his side, waves splashing softly around their feet and overly sweet drinks in ridiculously decorated pineapples. But here they were, just two of them left standing, and instead of feeling the high of the win, the bunker felt empty and abandoned.
Freedom does not erase pain.
Normally, Dean would drink alone for these kinds of occasions. But that was the old Dean. The angry, destructive Dean. And… Hell, he was still angry. Everything they had lost in the battle still stung painfully. But instead of letting the anger eat him up, he did his damned hardest to focus on the good, on honouring the sacrifices that their friends and family had made for the cause. To not be destructive.
So instead of drinking alone, he is sitting in the library with Sam by his side and Miracle by his feet. It had started with a beer, then another, then another, and now the whiskey is flowing freely. And they are talking, reminiscing.
They are trying to celebrate the lives of their family instead of mourning their deaths, though it is hard to tell the difference when all that is left is him and Sam. The feeling of loss hanging heavily in the air.
"To Cas." Dean lifts his whiskey yet again.
"To Cas." Sam concurs.
Ironically, Dean does not remember the epic battles. You would think that saving the world multiple times would feel significant in a moment like this, but all Dean can think of is the moments in-between. The precious times between one battle and the next. Meals they shared – Or more correctly; Cas letting Dean eat his untouched meals while enjoying each other's company. The road trips where Cas allowed Dean to listen to his music without any complaints. Cas hanging on every word Dean told him when explaining human behaviour. The times when he and Sam tried to teach Cas to be a hunter, to impersonate an FBI agent, to… everything. And it is all these little things that he and Sam are now sharing.
"Do you remember when I taught him how to hotwire a car?" Dean tries to keep his voice light, but there is a heaviness hanging on his words that he just can't get rid of. "I sent him in to town to practice. He was so mad when he came back. Apparently, he almost got caught." Dean huffs a half laugh.
"Yeah, I remember. If he could have smitten you, he would." Sam smiles as he picks at the label of one of the empty beer bottles.
"Yeah, probably. He picked a pretty new car to practice on. I told him to go for an old, easy one." Dean frowns. He had been pretty clear about that, hadn't he?
"And how the hell did you expect Cas of all people to be able to tell the difference?" Sam huffs.
"Oh… right." For a moment, the brothers just stare at each other, but then they burst into laughter. They laugh more than the situation calls for, but it comes easily when aided by sorrow and alcohol. When the laughter dies down, Dean smiles; "But at least he remembered the pie."
"Dude, we always remember the pie. We don't want you to throw a bitch fit." Sam throws the small specks of paper from the beer bottle label in Dean's direction, the little pieces not making it very far before dancing down on the table.
Dean looks unimpressed at his brother through the sad, little beer-label-snowstorm. "You're the bitch, bitch."
"Jerk." Comes the knee-jerk reaction.
The room falls quiet once again, both brothers lost in memory. It has been going back and forward like this all night. They sit in heavy, yet somehow comfortable, silence until one of them remembers something they want to share and enjoy together.
Sam is the one to break the silence this time, apparently having contemplated Dean story. "Cas always had that naivety about him, you know? Always wanting to do what was right, believing in the best in people. It was a lot to expect him to just go grand theft auto after a quick tutorial in the garage." He doesn't say that it was a lot for Dean to expect that of Cas, but that is none the less what Dean hears. "I mean, there was a lot of things he didn't understand about the world and how things work. Even when Metatron filled his head with all that literature and stuff, the world still didn't really make sense to him. It was just knowledge that he didn't know how to apply. It was annoying at times but… it was also kind of nice to see someone so ancient and powerful be so… innocent, you know?"
Dean doesn't know why Sam's thoughts take this turn, but it makes something in his chest tighten. He thinks back to all the times when he had had to explain pop cultural references to the Angel, every time Cas would tilt his head in confusion when Dean failed to use words that Cas was familiar with. Dean must have pushed his buttons on so many occasions, speaking a language that Cas had no chance of understanding. How hard it must have been to be new on Earth and be around them, especially Dean, who was so stubborn, so… dismissive. How Dean always just expected the Angel to follow his lead, to catch on to every hidden meaning, every little human gesture, when Cas had lived most of his life in Heaven among emotionless, humourless, inhuman dicks. And when Cas didn't get it, Dean would snap at him, call him names.
"You think we were too hard on him?" Dean barely realises the words leaving his mouth. "It's just… Sometimes… It was not easy for him to be on Earth. And we- I-…"
Dean doesn't complete the sentence. Some of Cas' actions looks different now that… well… after everything. How he would hang on every word that Dean tried to teach him, because he had no better teacher. How he kept doing what he thought was right, because that was what he saw the brothers doing every day. How he would watch Dean in his sleep, which was still really creepy, but… Cas had just tried to watch over him, right? Be a good friend in the only way an Angel would know how. And again, Dean had just snapped at him.
Sam interrupts his thoughts. "Maybe we were a bit hard on him sometimes, but… This line of business makes people… rough around the edges. I mean, we learned everything the hard way. Dad was not one to cuddle us through life, it was more… trial by fire." Sam sighs with a sad smile.
"I guess." Dean rubs his neck and empties his glass. Despite Dean's poor teachings, Cas had come a long way. He remembers the first time he bought Cas a beer, and the Angel had looked at him as if he was nuts. 'I don't need food blah-blah-blah'. But Cas had still accepted it, and he had almost seemed happy afterwards. Satisfied, at least. And he started sharing drinks with them more often, and he learned which snacks to buy for road trips and to order food when asked, because Dean always appreciated the extra calories. He went from not giving a damn about 'sustenance' to actively participate in all aspects of it.
Cas simply acted more and more… human.
For some reason, this realisation doesn't make Dean feel better. He shakes his head and tries to refocus. These rabbit holes were still popping up in his head all the time, and he had to fight to keep himself from jumping in too deep.
Instead, he looks at Sam and lets the wave of affection that he feels for his little brother wash over him. Despite everything that they have been through, the love he feels for Sam has always been a constant. And no matter how they were brought up and what life had thrown at them, Sam had always stayed kind-hearted and so damn smart. Despite these feeling being so familiar, he rarely voices them, not knowing exactly what to say. This time is no different, and all he grinds out is: "You didn't, though. Get rough around edges, I mean…"
Sam looks down at his own glass. "I've not come out of all of this squeaky clean, you know. We've both done… things."
"Yeah, we have…" No point denying it. No point lingering. "But we also saved the world."
Sam huffs a smile and empties his glass.
Dean refills their glasses.
"To Cas. For saving the world. And my big brother." Sam raises his glass before drinking.
Dean almost drops his own glass. He quickly tightens his grip and downs the whiskey in one gulp to replace the burning in his throat with a different kind of burn.
He had told Sam about Cas' death, but not in excruciating detail. Not yet. So, Sam doesn't know exactly what mentioning Cas' death does to Dean. And combined with the realisations that this drunken evening has provoked, it almost makes Dean empty his stomach of its liquid content.
Dean had expected too much of Cas. The Angel had become a symbol of hope and all that was supposed to be good in the world. So, every time Cas failed or didn't live up to Dean's unrealistically high expectations, he lashed out. He called Cas names and scolded him for his deficiencies. Why does that something always seem to be you?... It wasn't… Damnit, Cas was not the something that always went wrong.
Dean had been completely unfair to him, despite his own many failings. But Cas was supposed to be better. To be the standard that Dean could only hope to ever live up to. To be the type of Angel that was worthy of all the prayers that the believers around the world sent heavenwards in their times of need.
And he was. Cas had transformed from an emotionless soldier to a protector of humanity.
When they first met, Cas had said that Dean had no faith. But Cas changed that. He gave Dean faith, pure and simple. Dean finally had something to believe in. And he was still believing and was going to do his utmost to do his best friend justice.
"I still pray to him…" Admissions seem to keep falling from Dean's lips without his permission tonight. But out of everything that he feels, this is all that he can express to Sam when the loss is still burning in him.
Sam just nods. "Good. He deserves that." And you still need to have someone to talk to, to tell the things that you won't tell me. But Sam doesn't say that. Sam never blames Dean for telling Cas things that he couldn't tell his brother. Of course, he wishes that Dean would confide in him more often, but Cas is the next best thing. And it is probably easier for Dean to open up in prayer and speak to someone who only hears him but is not looking at him, not judging him. Hell, Sam had overheard Dean talking to Miracle more easily than he could talk to Sam, tell the furball things about Cas' sacrifice that he was apparently not yet ready to share with his little brother. But as long as Dean keeps talking and hopefully deal with some of his feelings, that is all that matters.
When Dean doesn't say anything else, Sam realises that they have reached the end of Dean's emotional rope. They have probably uncovered more than Sam realises and maybe it's time to let it sink into that thick skull of Dean's. He empties his glass, and without a word, he leaves the library. Dean lets him.
Dean should go to bed too, try to sleep. But he doubts it will come easy to him, even though he has almost been up for 24 hours by now, and whiskey is flowing in his system. It should knock him out, but it doesn't.
It is all too much. Just too much.
Not only did he lose Cas in the worst way possible; The Angel sacrificing himself to save Dean's insignificant life. Cas had also left him with a message and emotion that he had never been good at receiving or dealing with: Love.
Not just Cas' love for Dean but recognising Dean's love for everyone else. Cas had looked so deep within him that he had reached a core that Dean didn't even know that he had. He had always just thought of his actions as instinctive and violent. He cared, of course he cared. But somehow, a long, long time ago, he had been consumed by the sense of duty instead of the actual feelings behind his actions. Look out for your little brother, boy.
And realisation feels awful.
"Damn it, Cas…" Dean slams his hand down on the table.
Too much insight, too much pressure to become a better man and to honour the life of the best friend he could ever have asked for, and it is too late. Too late to treat Cas better, too late to appreciate his sacrifices, too late to forgive all his past mistakes and help him through them instead of cutting him off.
So, Dean does the only thing that he can do. He folds his hands and lowers his head with a reverence that he had failed to show earlier in life. And he prays. He doesn't know for how long, but he gives thanks for all the help that he has received in the past twelve years, he apologises for his crude behaviour and snappy remarks, he laughs through tears as he recounts their funny experiences together. He says all the things that it is too late to say. He says the things that it hurts too much to say, but that needs to be said.
With a final, whispered 'amen', he wipes the tears of his face and lets his arms drop in exhaustion. His back hurts from bending forward for so long. He slumps in the chair and takes a deep, shaking breath.
Suddenly, Miracle nudges one of his hands and licks the salty palm.
Dean smiles.
-.-.-.-
There might be one more chapter…