The black hills of western South Dakota were smaller than Dean would have imagined. After looking at map after map, he found that they stood fairly isolated from the rest of the state; a dome of awe-inspiring waterfalls and free range buffalo whose breath turned to ghosts in winter. The hills themselves stood at a dark gray, tinted with moonshine at night. The most astounding part was the grass, bright and vibrant like a Friday afternoon laced with the smell of early summer. The tips turned to light beige on most blades, creating a color palette as soft as the mustang's mane. From the first picture, Dean was in love.
Twenty-six hours was nothing on the Impala. She had gone across the country so many times that her tire tracks guided the way of lost travelers, and her engine found everyone's home. Dean would be far away, very far away from Cas. Yet, he couldn't be much farther than he already was. The disconnect he felt from his husband was an itch that could not be scratched away, and at some point it would ravage their relationship into oblivion. He could only push and will it away for so long. At some point, he would break.
Twenty-six hours, while long, was not three weeks. Other destinations would have to be hit on the way in order to fully last for those twenty-one days. He decided to dedicate this trip mostly to nature, visiting parks and fields and trees that stood gallantly above the world. Cas would enjoy it much more, as it would feel like more of an escape than just more stone and metal buildings. He studied the roads Cas had traced, searching for any pattern that he might have hidden in the vibrant red. However, nothing really stuck out. Maybe it was just random. No meaning or significance, just a short little trip; there and back again.
The walls were rigid, cold stones tracing dust on to Cas' fingers. He had first touched the walls just minutes after they had left him alone, and now it was all he really had done. Just… touch. His eyes had nothing to look at, a light that flickered above him and the metal bed frame with a thin mattress. The only hint that the outside still existed was a tiny window above him, one with bars that fit its size. He had heard rumours that pieces of this hospital were once part of a prison, and slowly he was starting to believe them. As he had done before, he cuddled beneath the window, but the scent of the pines was masked by the emissions of cars. Briefly, he would smell their tang, and those moments felt infinite in the bare walls. He pulled his coat around him, waiting for more of those moments to come.
Footsteps came not long after, one of the doctors, though not one he had met before. The doctor wore a cheap, but fine suit, and in his hand held an envelope. From what Cas could see, the envelope was tinted the same color as Dean's map paper, and he quickly jumped up to recover it. The doctor smiled slightly at him, "This is from your partner. I need you to open it in front of me to make sure there's nothing dangerous in there."
Cas took the envelope, realizing that it was the hand-folded map paper. Dean had made the envelope for him, and the kingdoms of Middle Earth now creased in his dry hands. He took a deep breath in excitement, and made sure to not rip any piece of the map. Inside, he found a folded up loose-leaf paper, and two small photos. Before he had a chance to see them, the doctor took the envelope and shuffled inside. When he was satisfied with the contents, he handed the envelope back, said his goodbyes, and left him alone again.
Cas sat down on his bed, hating the horrible noise it made when he did so. He reached his hand inside, first grabbing the loose-leaf. All three holes on the side were ripped, as if Dean had very quickly grabbed it and wrote. The messiness of the handwriting said the same. He smoothed it against his thigh and silently read.
Hello Castiel,
I have decided I will finish our road trip. I found something beautiful the other day, and I realize i'm hurting myself by just waiting for you. I'm going to send you pictures, and a blank notebook. I want it to feel like you're there, okay? It won't be the same,I know, but when you come back home, I'd be happy to do it again. I promise I won't read without you. If they let me, maybe I'll send some voice recordings of me reading, ok?
Love you,
Dean.
Cas' face hurt from smiling when he was finished reading. His teeth stuck out from between his lips, and he could feel his eyes watering a bit. He was so glad that Dean would leave the house, as he had feared Dean would spend these weeks doing nothing but driving back and forth from the brewery.
After a few deep breaths to reign in his emotions, Cas poked his fingers in to the the envelope and pulled out one of the pictures. It was a picture of the two of them at the opening of the brewery. Dean was smiling at him as a small group of eager new customers walked in to those doors for the first time. It felt like ages ago, but some things made the picture a bit more immortal. Cas, of course, still had his trenchcoat on, but it was much cleaner back then. Baby was in the background, her old tires worn from her years on the road. Dean had the same leather jacket, and Cas the same blue tie. Yet, back then, both their smiles were wider. They were real; dimples and bright eyes and silent laughter. Nothing there seemed wrong; perfect. Perfect. They were perfect. So, Cas couldn't help but shake his head, what had changed?
Of course, he knew. He knew how her hair fell on her slim shoulders and exactly how many black dresses she owned. He knew which room she was in and her schedule for every single day of the week. He knew what had changed, but Dean didn't. Dean would never suspect it, just like Cas hadn't. Never in a milenia would he have guessed; but here he was, a survivor of human trafficking at the hands of his aunt, in a dark hospital room, crying over a picture. So much had changed.
The second picture took him a bit longer. It was wedged into the folds of the envelope, as if the journey of prying it out was part of its mystery. Cas slowly opened the small photo, and was hit with a brilliance of green. Grasses and shrubs all dotted the dusty ground of swirling hills, creating a scene straight from his poems. It was spectacular in all ways, from the worn benches atop the hills for weary finders to sit, to the occasional blueberry bush to break ones tumble down the slope. However, the red-barked trees reminded him… this was home. This was not an unreachable place. It was right in the pines with the angel statue, still smiling.
It took him some time, but he realized that Dean's trip had already begun. Right on that slope, the first in a sequence to come. It was enticing, and Cas could only imagine how many smiles would force their way onto his lips. He took both pictures and the letter and slipped them under his thin pillow, hoping that they would give him the best of dreams.
That night, Cas' dinner was brighter than normal. The nurse who had handed it to him had even commented on his smile, which didn't leave for hours after the envelope had been open. Every time it began to fade, he would think of the green, or the brewery, and it would jump right back on to his shadowed face. The old cornbread tasted extra sweet, and the water was just a bit more refreshing.
And as Cas laid down on his bed, eyes looking up at the dirty ceiling, he was still smiling. The black hills of North Dakota. The black hills of North Dakota. The home of the mustang he had come to love. Finally, there was hope.
The cleaning of their apartment had been cut short. Sam and Gabriel, both sitting on the dirty carpet, found many things that had sat there for months collecting dust, had more value than they realized. Each bin had some toy or picture or controller that just "means so much. We can't get rid of it!" So, here they were. Their 'keep' pile was much larger than Sam would have liked, and the only thing they had done was made more of a mess. However, Gabe had found remote-control helicopter.
It was a small thing, white with splatters of blue and red. It held a small bucket that the Novak's had put there to pass notes back and forth. It only lasted a few minutes when fully charged, but Gabe used every second of that time. He crashed many times at the beginning, but he blamed it on how old the controller was and "it must have a lot of dust in it." Eventually though, he did find his way, and soon the little plastic helicopter was spinning around Sam's head, who was not very fond of what was happening. Gabe, in proper Gabe fashion, laughed and did it some more, tripping over the clutter spread out onto the floor, but always gaining his feet just in time.
Sam put up with it for a few minutes, before his phone buzzed twice in his pocket. He took it out and flipped it open. It was a message from Dean, though the photo took some time to load on the flip-phone. When it did, Sam saw a picture of Dean's legs in sweatpants on a hotel bed, some form of crime show on the television in front of him. Soon after, another text from Dean, So it begins.
Sam heard a crash, and looked up from his phone to see the helicopter- yet again- on the floor. Gabe picked it up, but with it, a small slip of paper, "Oh. This must be one of our old notes."
Gabe grinned as he opened the paper, but his face soon turned to confusion. Sam could see his eyes darting over the paper, trying to process whatever wa son there.
"What does it say?" Sam pried, concerned after a couple seconds of Dead silence.
"I…" Gabe was still shocked, but Sam went over to look. It was a child's drawing with only black and yellow crayons. The black made the form of a person in what seemed like a black dress. However, her whole form was black, so it was difficult to tell. In the yellow, another person, this one with very long arms, frowning. Sam furrowed his brow, but thought little of the image.
"Whenever Cas drew himself, he would always give himself super long arms. It was to make sure we knew it was him in the picture." That didn't explain the woman in the black dress, who was much taller than Cas in the picture. She stared down at him, disgruntled, with one long finger pointing.
Suddenly, Gabe folded up the paper. He walked over to one of the bins, dumped all the contents on to the floor, and placed the paper at the bottom, "Our evidence bin. Everything we learn about what happened to my brother goes in here. Anything at all. …..We're figuring this out."
He paused in the middle, and his voice just so slightly cracked.
Without another word, he turned off the helicopter, threw it into the 'keep' pile, and carried on without a word.