Terribly sorry for the delay on the update. I didn't mean to leave you hanging for this long. There seems to be some kind of a dam in my mind that's backing up all the words that used to freely flow. Advance apologies if it takes a little while for me to get the rest of this story out. Also, many thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter!
The sounds of rain splattering pavement and leaves echoed through the trees, and made the silence more prominent. More real. Excruciating and maddening.
No one spoke a word. We stood motionless as rain and reality soaked our skin to the bone. Sam's expression hadn't changed much since the angel had confirmed the conclusion he had already drawn. His hazel eyes held a hint of sorrow, but mostly he remained stunned. Dean, on the other hand, was less willing to believe I was who Castiel claimed I was. He looked between me and his angel friend with baffled disgust.
"That's not fucking funny, Cas." Dean's voice shook with rage as he scolded the angel, who's confusion remained plastered across his face. Castiel tilted his head and the crease in his brow deepened.
"Of course it's not funny," he agreed. "I wasn't laughing." He paused to glance at me and, upon seeing the shame on my face, his expression softened into understanding. "I see. You did not tell them who you are."
"Yes, he did," Dean insistently spat, waving an arm in my direction. "His name is Maddox. And he is not my father."
"I'm sorry," Castiel said with sympathetic eyes, and he gingerly placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. "But that demon is your father."
"No!" Dean shrugged Castiel's hand away. He brought a fist up, more for show than as a threatening gesture, and idly shook it in Castiel's direction. "He can't be my dad. See, cause my dad went…" He trailed off when he remembered he didn't actually know where I had gone when I disappeared in a flicker of light. Horror flared in his eyes and they grew moist with gathering tears. "He can't be."
"What reason would I have to lie to you about this?" Castiel asked. He pointed to Sam without turning his eyes from Dean. "Sam knows this to be true."
Dean's gaze shot from the angel to his brother. His head briskly drew back in surprise when he noticed Sam's bewildered face.
"You don't seriously buy this, do you?" Dean questioned, appalled by Sam's reaction. I hesitantly turned my head to look at Sam.
"Yeah," he confessed, his gaze still fixed on me. He blinked and his face folded into something terrible and painful. "I do."
I shifted awkwardly where I stood and nervously rubbed at the nape of my neck. Dean blinked in disbelief, staring between his brother and me. He slowly shook his head and took a step back.
"He can't be," he whispered. "There's no way he was in the pit this whole time." He stared at me with misery and malice. "Why aren't you saying anything?" he demanded to know with a furious panic. "Say something!"
"What do you want me to say?" I questioned, managing a calm tone despite how agitated I felt.
"Tell me you're not him," Dean said with pleading eyes. Eyes that begged for me to tell him I wasn't his father, not because he couldn't stand the thought of me as a demon, but because of the guilt he would torment himself with. He still blamed himself for what I'd done for him so many years before. Knowing I had never gone to Heaven would break him.
But I couldn't lie. Not this time. Sam had figured it out before Castiel even said it. Deep down, even Dean knew it; he just didn't want it to be true.
"I… can't."
Dean clasped a hand over his mouth. A single tear spilled from the corner of his eye and ran freely down his cheek. He shivered as he stared at me, his jade eyes centered distantly on me. His chest heaved in a borderline panic and, for a minute, it looked like he was about to collapse. His knees began to buckle and he staggered backwards. He caught himself, steadying his shaky legs and slowly brought his hand down and away from his face.
"... Dad?" he whispered.
"Hi, Dean." I forced a grin, the same grin I used to give him when I came home after a hunt. It was tired and painful, but it also carried a sense of deep relief at the sight of my son. I'm sure it looked different on Max's face, but the gleam in Dean's eye told me it was familiar.
The deafening silence returned. Dean's face paled and, for a minute, it looked like he was going to throw up. Then he did something completely unexpected; he marched up to me and threw his arms around me.
At first I was too stunned by his reaction to move. I had expected him to continue his denials in a heated rage. I thought he would scream at Castiel and Sam for believing such a thing. I expected an intensive quiz on things nobody but I could possibly know. But the denials and the questions never came. Gradually, I not only accepted his embrace, I returned it with full force.
We clung to each other as if we were never going to let go. A sorrowful calm swept through me as the darkness gradually retreated to allow me this tiny reprieve. To allow me to take in the feel of my son's embrace and, for the first time since I fell, to feel something good.
When Dean pulled away, his cheeks glistened with fallen tears. He clamped a hand on my shoulder and a tiny smile curved across his lips.
"I never thought I would see you again." His voice carried a deep note of relief that blended with an air of wonder. His smile disappeared and his expression twisted into a look of confusion. "Why didn't you tell us?"
"Would you have believed me?"
Dean carefully thought about this before he slowly shook his head.
"No," he admitted with a short, humorless laugh. "In fact, I probably would have stabbed you in face for saying it." He paused as a wounded look creased his brow. "Why didn't you come look for us?"
A heavy sigh steamrolled past my lips.
"I wanted to," I insisted. "I did. But I…" I faltered. I discovered I didn't have to go on when I peered into Dean's face; it was tight with terrible understanding; I hadn't avoid them because I didn't want to see them, but because I didn't want them to see me.
A guilt-laced horror washed over Dean. He brought a hand up to his forehead as he backed away from me. His mouth hung open as he fought back the tears that welled in his eyes.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered. His hand slid down the right side of his face until it covered part of his mouth. "I didn't know… dad, I'm so sorry."
"This isn't your fault," I spoke firmly. My eyes flickered to the angel who stood watch behind Dean. "Isn't that right, Castiel?" I spat the angels name like it was poison on my tongue. Dean's brows knitted together in a perplexed look as he turned to look at his celestial friend. Castiel hung his head, but his shame-filled eyes remained on Dean.
"The cupid's spell…" Dean murmured to himself as he fit the pieces together in his mind. "Fate. It was all a set up. You wanted him to go to Hell." A wild anger blazed behind his green eyes and his body stiffened. His fingers curled into tight fists as he glowered at Castiel. "Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded to know, furious his friend had withheld this information from him. "Why didn't you save him?"
A painful regret formed on the angel's face, and he lowered his gaze to the cold, wet ground.
"We knew your father had returned to perdition," he admitted without looking at Dean. "But we couldn't find him." He paused and found the courage to lift his eyes to my son again, but the remorse remained. "Even if we had known where he was…" He trailed off, deciding against finishing his statement. He didn't need to. We all knew where his story was going. "I'm sorry, Dean," he gently apologized. "But if you had known, you would have tried to rescue him."
"You're damn right I would have," Dean said with a heated pride. Castiel sighed.
"The journey would have killed you," the angel said as a matter of factly, this time without regret.
"Sam got Bobby out," Dean argued, pointing to his brother, who remained in his place beside me, stunned speechless.
Castiel heaved an impatient sigh.
"Retrieving Bobby's soul was different," the angel attempted to explain. "Sam did not have to travel very far into Hell to find him. I can't imagine how deep your father's soul…" He halted and carefully considered the word he seemed hesitant to use. "Fell."
"Did you seriously doubt we couldn't do it?" Dean challenged, more hurt than offended by his friend's misgivings about his capabilities. The angel's blue eyes fluttered to me, wordlessly begging me to help him reign in Dean's temper. The last thing I wanted to do was help an angel. I was thoroughly enjoying Dean's argument with the celestial being. But it was ill-timed, and low on our list of problems.
"That's enough," I spoke loud and clear, and Dean's head snapped back to me. "We have more important things to worry about right now."
Dean blinked and gradually nodded. His natural reaction to my giving orders as a demon was to defy them with threats of exorcism, but he remembered who the demon was, and easily obeyed.
"Yes, sir." Just like old times.
His right hand lifted to his forehead and he stared distantly at the ground, lost with overwhelming thoughts and ideas.
"We gotta get you cured," he stated decidedly, looking up to me again.
"I'm not sure curing your father would be wise," Castiel spoke up, and Dean shot him a glare. "Not now, anyway."
"Are you shitting me?!" Dean fumed, throwing his hands up.
"You mentioned he's been bound to Crowley," Castiel went on, ignoring Dean's frenzied fit. "I wouldn't put it past Crowley to torture himself if he knew your father could feel it. As a demon, it will be unpleasant, but as a human…"
Castiel didn't finish. He didn't have to. We all knew I could survive anything Crowley might attempt to do to me as long as I stayed a demon. But my chances of surviving whatever the king might do if were I human were far, far slimmer.
"Shit," Dean muttered in defeat.
"We don't even know what will happen to me after I die if you do cure me," I interjected, reminding Dean of the conversation we'd shared in Albuquerque. "As much as I'd love to be cured, if I'm just going to end up back in Hell, I'd rather not bother."
Dean's brow wrinkled into a gentle protest. He refused to believe there was no way around my condition, refused to acknowledge the horrible possibility that I would be stuck like this. Forever.
"We'll figure it out," he promised. "We always find a way. Right, Sam?"
All eyes fell to Sam, who stood motionless and uncomfortable in the proverbial spotlight. He absently nodded as he continued to warily eye me, barely blinking in his struggles with the weight my identity had left in his mind.
"Yeah." The whispered word choked out with minimal conviction.
"Come on, Sammy," Dean said, rolling his eyes. "Say it like you mean it."
"We should get going," Sam said instead. He turned his hazel eyes away from me and to the angel. "Mind if I ride with you, Cas?"
A muddled expression weaved its way across the angel's face where it stayed until understanding found him. His expression softened and he nodded.
"Yes. Of course, Sam."
I turned to look at Sam, but he was halfway to the Impala with his head turned away from me. He retrieved his weathered backpack from the front seat and hastily slung it around his shoulder. He made it a point not to look at me as he climbed into the passenger's seat of the gold Lincoln, and wordlessly closed the door behind him.
Seeing Sam so bitterly rattled stung, and it must have shown, because a hand was suddenly placed on my right shoulder. I turned to see Castiel and the flat, empathetic smile he offered.
"He just needs some time to adjust," he told me reassuringly with a kind voice. I shrugged his hand away from me with a violent jerk.
"Don't touch me," I growled warningly.
Castiel's hand fell slack at his side. He turned to Dean, offering him the same lopsided half-smile-half-frown. Dean returned the compassionate look with a cold stare.
"Dean, I-"
"Don't," Dean abruptly interrupted, putting a fist up to signify he was disinterested in anything the angel might have to say. I couldn't help the childish smirk that pulled at my lips, or the delight I found in Dean's sudden contempt for the angel. Neither of them noticed this.
Castiel wordlessly shuffled past us and climbed into his car. We watched as he jammed the keys into the ignition and backed the old Lincoln into the parking lot before gradually pulling towards the highway.
"Come on," Dean broke the quietude. He pulled his keys from his pocket and paused. He stared down at the silver objects before extending them to me. "You wanna drive?"
I offered him a tiny grin and shook my head.
"Naw," I said. "Just make sure you replace those wiper blades next town we come to."
"Yes, sir."