Eight: The Sister

One week later

Tyngsborough, Massachusetts

Marv Jenkins always knew he was going to die early. His diabetes had never been in control and the doctors had told him just as much, that he either needed to take care of himself and keep up on his medication, or that he wouldn't survive. But then in all the ways that he had imagined he'd drop dead, this was not one of them.

"Please – please, I don't know!" he hissed, his throat clogging up.

The stranger was pressed against Marv, strong with a painful grip, restraining him easily with his knife against Marv's throat. "You know where Dean Winchester is," he growled, "and you're going to tell me."

"N-No! I swear I don't! He's a psychopath. I only knew his husband, I—"

Excruciating pain hit his throat, seizing his entire body. The man tightened his grip on Marv and there was more pain and ohgod no more until… finally, bliss…

Bliss.

~o~

"You know this man, don't you?"

Cas had been eating a quiet dinner at a burger joint when a photo suddenly slid across the table to land beside his plate. He looked up to see Isabelle Vargas take a seat before him, and then cast another glance at the photo. His heart skipped a beat. He knew who this was.

"This is my literary agent," he told Vargas. "What happened?"

"He was found dead."

"Where?"

"In his office." Vargas was silent for a moment, seemingly trying to figure Cas out. She narrowed her eyes. "Is your husband here in Tyngsborough?"

"No," Cas replied quickly. "I promise you he isn't."

"Look, Castiel, we have a deal."

"And it stands," he replied. "I would tell you if I knew where Dean was. This is—"

"Don't tell me it's the Bradys," she sighed, interrupting him.

Cas narrowed his eyes at her. "It was not Dean. Two of them tried to kill Sam. I do not understand why it's impossible that they committed this murder."

Vargas signalled for a coffee as she rubbed her eyes. The waitress was there with a cup the next moment, pouring coffee out of a pot. Vargas reached for the sugar. "We investigated them. We sent forces to Boston. They're wealthy, they own a small pharmaceutical business, and we suspect they do more than just kill people, but—"

"I don't understand why they are not behind bars, then," Cas snapped.

"There is no evidence," said Vargas. "Look, even if Dean didn't kill half those people, he is still a criminal. He still murdered my ex-partner." She took her cup and drained her coffee in one go, making Cas's throat ache just watching. She put her cup on the table and stood up, taking Marv's picture with her. "You have a nice day."

Cas watched her go and pushed his burger away, already having lost his appetite.

The last few days had been horrible, to say the least. Cas had been reported to the police the moment he and Sam reached the hospital, then taken into custody. There had been several interrogations and even a search of his and Dean's house and Cas stuck to his story—with everything Dean had told him to say and hidden anything and everything suspicious well enough that it wouldn't be a hindrance.

"He means a lot to me," Cas said. "I didn't know he was going to… but he wanted to talk to Agent Henriksen. That's all."

"You knew what he was up to, though? Before that day? That he was killing people?"

"Yes."

"You didn't report that to the police."

"He – he…" Cas chuckled nervously. "He said he'd change…"

"And you believed him."

"He is a very good man. He is very caring of me and Sam and I know he didn't want to do it. He was helpless."

Vargas's eyes widened in shock. "So… since he was so helpless… you kidnapped a federal agent?"

Cas wrung his hands together, his shoulders slumped. He had noticed that it made him look small, scared, and unsure. "I… I didn't know what to do. I just followed whatever I thought was right."

"And you watched while he murdered Special Agent Henriksen and Dr Peter Warner."

"I tried to stop him, but he threatened me." Cas mustered up his saddest face. "He doesn't mean it. He's never meant any of it. He's a very kind man and he treats me so well."

Cas's statement had, of course, led the FBI to think he was suffering from Stockholm Syndrome. They asked him if Dean abused him and Cas denied it, feeling sick to his stomach as he hinted at emotional and verbal abuse instead. It made him throw up to say those things about Dean and he spent the end of all the evaluations crouched over a toilet bowl, covering his eyes and trying to keep his breathing in check. If these people knew of the kindness in Dean, they would never arrest him. It was true, perhaps, that killing people was wrong, but Dean was still a good person.

He had chosen this life himself; had been in awe of Dean when Dean had killed Banks all those years ago and he agreed with Dean's principle of killing all such human beings. They didn't deserve to live. He had first-hand experience in the kind of pain they'd caused. The nightmares and flashbacks and the painful disconnection from reality; of feeling like he was incomplete and ruined; he knew it all and anyone who made someone feel this way deserved to die.

Cas had derived happiness from stalking them and killing them. From watching the fear in their eyes when they knew they were about to die. That they were about to suffer for being inhuman. Cas had derived pleasure from sharing this experience with Dean, sharing this exhilarating, beautiful mission they were on with the one person who loved him through all his imperfections and beyond; who was unconditional and giving. Cas had chosen all of this.

It was far from Stockholm Syndrome or any other kind of psychological condition and Cas hated that he didn't even try to refute it. It was an insult to the real people who had Stockholm Syndrome, who suffered in the hands of the very people Dean and Cas killed. However, he had promised Dean something and he stuck to it.

The FBI had a psychiatrist evaluate him. Cas memorised all the tells for lying and didn't use a single one. He stuck to his story again and again and after all of it, Vargas spoke to him. In the end he washed his face in the bathroom, muttering just one mantra to himself. For Dean.

Dean wanted this. Cas preferred going to prison with Dean and dying there, but Dean wanted something else, and this was the least he could do.

The FBI offered him a bargain after having evaluated him.

"We know Dean will try to contact you again," said Vargas.

"What do you want me to do?"

"We can offer you a deal," she said. "I spoke to the DA about this. You're going to help us find your husband. Any call or message or even clues that you get from him, you come to us. You tell us first."

"In exchange for?"

"We'll keep you out of prison. You were not operating out of free will, and I understand."

Cas wanted to grab her neck and show her just how much of a free will he had, but he didn't (for Dean for Dean). He needed to be there for Sam, too. It wasn't just about Dean either. So when Jessica flew over with one of the best lawyers from Sam's firm and the lawyer urged Cas to take the deal, he did.

"How do you know for sure that he'll contact me?" he asked Vargas, even though he knew the answer.

She had smiled. "He won't throw you away. He needs validation. He's an exhibitionist. He needs someone to be proud of him. And that is going to be you."

She was completely wrong except for the exhibitionist part, but Cas had to pretend to agree with her.

He'd been meeting with a lot of his and Dean's victims' families. He'd spoken about all the murders he'd committed with Dean, but he'd had to twist it to sound like only Dean was involved. Sometimes, talking to these people made Cas miss his family very much. He'd never felt lonelier, with Dean elsewhere and Sam suffering an illness. He couldn't even imagine either of them dead. The prospect of speaking to them again was the only thing keeping him going. It was the only thing that motivated him to get out of bed on some days.

"Do you see now?" Vargas had asked him, grabbing the opportunity when she saw the forlorn look in his eyes. "I know Dean killed people who were not good citizens, but it isn't upon him to decide who dies. They still have families and a life and they still deserve a fair trial—like the one Dean will get when we find him."

The statement kept Cas staring at the ceiling some nights. Was she right? Had the principle that had been part of him for such a big chunk of his life been flawed?

He spent most of his days at the hospital, waiting outside the ICU for Sam when he wasn't eating or with Vargas. Jessica was here and very worried for Sam, both because of his health and the revelation that his brother was a serial killer. She had the spare bedroom at the house and when she and Cas had to come back home at night, the hospital being unwilling to let them sleep outside the ICU, they spoke over midnight coffees and bonded.

The diner had to be shut down because there was no one to run it. Charlie and Kevin resigned, still friendly, but maintaining that they couldn't work for a serial killer. There was no one else to take their places, either. Marv had refused to work for Cas ever again and no other agent even wanted to talk to him, putting Cas out of a job and, well, Marv was dead now. Cas and Dean had money saved but Cas used it wisely because he wasn't sure how long this was going to take.

He had promised himself he'd look for a job as soon as Sam woke up, but Sam was being adamant about staying unconscious, it seemed. He'd been transferred to the local hospital and was now being treated there. His infection was clearing up but his lack of consciousness and coherency had made the doctors keep him in the ICU after promising Cas that they'd put him in a regular room once they were sure he was doing okay. Cas was very worried about that. A week was too long to stay unconscious. Sam dying was not acceptable at all, and he wished, even prayed that Sam would recover.

When he walked back to the hospital from the diner and back to the ICU with that thought in mind, a new prayer for Sam, he was surprised find a very ecstatic Jessica run towards him. She didn't even halt for a moment before pulling Cas into a bear hug.

"What happened?" he asked, putting his arms around her.

"Oh, Cas." She broke apart, eyes sparkling. "Sam just woke up."

~o~

Three days later

Sam was already bored of the hospital. His week-long bout of unconsciousness hadn't worked for him because the doctors were just everywhere, checking this and that, being absolutely paranoid about him, when he knew he was going to be fine. They didn't seem to believe the same thing and Sam understood that; it was their job to be absolutely sure that he didn't die.

He was only worried for Dean, honestly. He had spoken to Cas, and Cas told him about how Dean had arranged for him and Sam to be safe. Cas wasn't happy about being safe at the cost of Dean but he also said that he'd been concerned about Sam's wellbeing as much as Dean and hence, had agreed to this setup.

"You were very sick, Sam," he said, looking down at his hands. "We needed to get you to a hospital. You know how much your brother cares about you. I do, too. The possibility of your death was unacceptable to the both of us."

Sam could see how much he hated not having Dean with them and instead of empathising or agreeing with Cas's lovey-dovey praises of Dean, he wanted to go and kick his brother's ass for being a goddamned martyr.

He cleared his throat. "Cas. Thank you."

"No, I know it looks selfish—"

"Dean is stupid," Sam told him, "but I know where you're coming from, okay? I know what you're doing for me. For us. That it's not easy."

Cas took a sharp breath. "I lied," he said, voice cracking a little, "I lied about Dean and told these people that he treated me badly. I made them think I was brainwashed."

"You had to," Sam pointed out. "And you did it to take care of me. The nurses told me you were here a lot. As much as you could stay."

"I am protecting myself and leading Dean to a life in prison."

"No." Sam caught his wrist. "Hey, no. We don't get to pity ourselves, okay? We're going to get through this. Dean is, too."

Cas was at a loss for words for a moment but then he leaned forward to pull Sam into his arms. Sam melted into the hug. Cas was another brother to him and his presence was always reassuring. He meant what he'd said, though. That they'd get Dean back.

~o~

One of the first things that happened after Sam was conscious and coherent again was that he was subjected to an interview. Special Agent Vargas was kinder than Henriksen but she was also smarter and more astute.

She entered his room with a small smile, dressed in a pantsuit and ready with her ID. She was a short, middle-aged Latina woman with long, brown curls that ran down her back and Sam could see that she had plenty of experience in the field. The fact that she seemed like she was in more control of herself than Henriksen made Sam realise that she would be harder to deal with.

She had introduced herself the moment she entered. "Special Agent Isabelle Vargas," she said. "I was Special Agent Henriksen's partner."

"I've heard." Sam extended his hand to her. "Sam Winchester."

Her mouth slipped into a half-smile. "I've heard, as well." She took the seat next to his bed, her posture business-like as she reached to draw out a couple of pictures. "Recognise them?"

Sam squinted at the pictures. "They shot me."

"They're dead now."

"I'm aware."

She raised an eyebrow. "Castiel told me you didn't know—"

"No," said Sam. "I did not know what my brother had been doing all this time, but you know, Cas didn't wait for you to break the news. I think he considered it best—and I agree—that I found out about this from family."

"And how did you feel, knowing that Dean is a murderer?"

"I don't remember signing up for therapy, Agent," Sam replied, letting an easy chuckle slip. "My brother is not a murderer, and you should punish the Brady family for this, not mine."

"They're dead, like I said."

"I believe they lived with their father and uncle."

She nodded. "You were roommates with Tyson, the youngest brother, weren't you?"

"Roommates. We dated a while."

Her eyes widened and her mouth opened a tad. Sam cleared his throat. "Your expression tells me you didn't expect that. I didn't take you for a close-minded person, Agent."

"I'm – I'm not," she said. "Why didn't Castiel mention…?"

"He might have done the decent thing and decided to let me talk about my own relationships," said Sam.

It was her time to clear her throat. "Sorry."

"So why isn't the Brady family behind bars yet?"

"We have no evidence against the remaining Bradys," she said. "They haven't done anything. I did speak to you brother-in-law about this, too."

"Oh, please," Sam twirled a loose string from the blanket around his finger. "Trying to kill me was nothing out of the ordinary for them."

"And we have agents attempting to dig into their family—can I call you Sam?"

"That's my name."

She seemed to get more comfortable. "We know they might be involved in selling illegal drugs," she said. "But as of now we can't find evidence that the family members alive were related to this case. So let's move on to…" she opened her notepad, "did you not know about Dean at all?"

"No," Sam lied, controlling his urge to ask her more. "I had no idea. I was having a holiday with him and… everything happened too quickly before I could even process any of it."

"You and Castiel were held captive by him. He had Castiel kidnap a federal agent."

"I was told." Sam let out a breath. "I was too out of it so I don't remember. And if he'd held us captive he wouldn't be letting us go like this. I wouldn't be talking to you."

Vargas considered that but didn't comment. "Did you ever suspect him when disappeared with Castiel every three months right around the murders? I can understand that you might have not noticed what happened before he went all exhibitionist, but afterwards, you didn't see a pattern? Have you been following the news?"

Sam smirked. "With all due respect, Agent, that is your job. I don't try to view everyone as criminals. Especially not my family."

"You accompanied them sometimes, correct?"

"I did."

"So when your brother disappeared with Castiel in the evenings…?"

"They liked going out to drink sometimes. I let them have their privacy. I didn't think of it that much."

Vargas looked like she needed a bit to process that. She scribbled something on her pad, eyes scanning Sam once as she looked up, and he couldn't even make out if she believed him. Sam could read gestures and tells in seconds. These were things he was proud of as a lawyer. So if he couldn't tell what she was thinking, he had to give it to her.

There was a long pause. Sam took the time to sip water, staying nonchalant. Vargas examined him thoroughly and he didn't slip. There was no way he was making a mistake when his brother's life and freedom were in danger.

Finally, she seemed to give up. "What about when your father died?" she asked Sam, turning back to her notepad.

"It was a fire."

"Did you know Dean set that one?"

Sam clutched his blankets. Yes, he was aware of the exact events that night. He had been there. Dean did a lot of things but at his core, he was the best person Sam knew. No one could convince him that his brother was a bad person.

Sam looked away, knowing he needed some sympathy now. "Dad wasn't a good person. And he died in an accidental fire, my brother didn't kill him."

"Is that what Dean told you?"

"Yes, and I believe him. Dean was not happy at home. Dad never wanted to take care of me and Dean was the one who raised me."

"Why was your father a bad person? According to you, not Dean."

"I… he didn't treat us well. More Dean than me, actually."

Sam glanced into her eyes, trying to detect sympathy there, but there was none. She seemed to be analysing something. "What about your foster dad? Didn't Dean kill him, too?" she asked.

Even thinking about Banks infuriated Sam, and he had to grit his teeth at Vargas's calmness and complete apathy asking him about it. "He beat me up," he said, remembering Dean pressing that ice pack against his cheek. "He even… he tried to rape me once. He got to Cas, too." That night when Banks had crept over to tug at Sam's pants. Dean punching Banks the next moment.

"And then he just died?"

"Someone broke into the house. Dean found him lying in the basement." Sam remembered turning every chair over and breaking the china and wreaking havoc. He had no regrets about it.

"What about his relationship with Castiel?"

Sam shrugged. "Never seen two people more in love." He snorted. "They're morons."

"Was Castiel happy?"

Sam pursed his lips, staring at a peeling piece of paint on the wall opposite him, trying to look like he was recollecting everything he could about Dean and Cas. "I think so," he said at long last. "I mean, he never looked like he wanted to leave Dean or that anything was bothering him…" He blinked and turned back to the agent. "You think my brother manipulated him in some way?"

"Our psychiatrist believes it's a case of Stockholm Syndrome—"

He scoffed. "Stockholm Syndrome? Cas? Please."

"I think it's your turn to open your mind, Sam. Some of the things we spoke to him about are personal, so maybe you can talk to him."

"I will."

Vargas looked at Sam like she believed him a little bit but she still seemed sceptical. "You've had your eyes closed for a long, long time."

"No," said Sam. "I know my brother is a good person. There is nothing he won't do for me. Or Cas."

"Including killing others, apparently."

"Please," Sam snorted. "I know him. And I'm a lawyer. It's my job to read people and make use of it when they stand before me in court. You think I'd miss something like that about my own brother? He would never kill people just like that. I would have known. I would figure it out, okay? Stop thinking Dean killed anyone. He never would." He said it as desperately as he could, with as much conviction as he had.

That softened her. Sam could see the sympathy brimming over, the disbelief at his blind faith and loyalty for Dean. A sense of accomplishment leapt up inside of him.

Vargas took the bait. "Serial killers are a tricky lot," she said, her voice soft. "They're great liars, Sam. It's not your fault for not knowing. You were blinded by affection for Dean and it's understandable. He raised you."

"He's done a lot more than just raise me." Sam turned to the vase of flowers on his nightstand, the truth of just how much Dean had done for him threatening to bubble over in the form of rage. Vargas would never know.

Pressing his lips, he concentrated on the flowers and controlled his urge to ask Vargas to leave. Jess had got him chrysanthemums, a mixture of red and yellow. She always said roses were lame and these were what she'd gotten him when he was in the hospital for his spine injury last year. According to her, they were lucky for his recovery.

Vargas sighed. "I understand that Dean wanted to protect you in every way, but sometimes, some things are still wrong."

"I know, but…"

She stood up, sympathy still occupying her entire demeanour. "I'm going to let you rest now," she said. "Your girlfriend and brother-in-law are eager to see you. Castiel is helping me get Dean into custody."

She thought Cas was going to out Dean to her. That was beautiful. Cas had played his part very well. First with the Stockholm Syndrome, now this.

Sam folded his arms. "Okay. Please don't… don't kill Dean. He is a good person. You just need to meet him. You'll know."

She walked to the door and nodded. "I really want to believe that."

"Will you kill him?"

"If he submits quietly… no. After that… it's up to the judge."

God, he knew they wouldn't hesitate to kill Dean if he put up a fight when they found him, and knowing Dean, he wasn't going to surrender quietly. There was no way Sam was letting that happen; no way he was supporting it. Did Dean even know Sam was well now? Did he know his and Cas's sacrifice had brought Sam back from the brink of death? Of course not. Sam was so going to kick his ass for this.

This was all so fucked up. Why was Dean getting caught in this when the Bradys were the ones who had attacked Sam? They should be in prison, too. He knew that Brady's father and uncle were involved in getting him shot that day, even if they weren't physically present. They needed to be punished, but there was no evidence, and that was what infuriated Sam the most. Even if other agents were truly involved in digging up their crimes, the Bradys were the ones who had pushed his family into this and Sam wanted them punished now.

There was a knock at his door, interrupting his thoughts. Sam rested back against his pillows, taking a few calming breaths. "Come in."

The door opened and he saw Jess's smiling face. "Hey," she said.

He grinned back. "Hey."

Jess had been extremely sympathetic, very understanding of the situation and Sam thought she was a good person, too; only, his time to let her go was coming close. Especially now, he didn't need her cooing any more about how his own brother turned out to be a criminal like she'd been doing in the last couple of days. Sam understood she did it because she was genuinely a good person, but he couldn't take it anymore.

He remembered his and Dean's afternoon talking about this and his heart longed for the company of his brother again.

"How're you doing?" Jess sat down on the chair beside Sam's bed.

"I'm good," he said. "Cas taking good care of you?"

"I can take care of myself, but yup." She opened her bag and took out a single yellow tulip for Sam's vase. "Should I change the water in the vase?"

"The flower will survive," said Sam. "And thanks. Where's Cas?"

"Lunch. He's coming in once I go out to eat. He was thrilled when you woke up."

"So you've said a million times in the last three days. And I know. He's been coming in a lot."

She licked her lip. "I know I shouldn't… but I also feel sorry for him, Sam."

"Why?"

"He really misses Dean. I mean, yeah, Dean's a…" she swallowed around the words, "but they were married, and—"

Sam smiled wanly. "Happens when you've loved someone for so long." He fiddled with his blankets. "Did you speak with the doctor?"

Her face brightened as she pushed her curls behind an ear. "I did! They're still letting you go tomorrow. Your reports are good."

"I know." Sam stretched. "I can't wait to get out."

"Neither can I." She leaned over and kissed him and he let her, heart skipping a beat as he kissed her back. He really needed to tell her how he felt.

"I've booked us a hotel room tomorrow and I went shopping for some scented candles," she said, winking. "And it wasn't just candles I bought. Just so you know."

He chuckled. "You didn't have to do that."

She shrugged. "I've missed you, too, and I don't want Cas to see us… you know. I don't wanna have him see us be together while he can't be with Dean."

She was so goddamned thoughtful. "Thank you," Sam said. The magical candle night wasn't happening, though, because he was breaking up with her tomorrow. He made up his mind as he watched her cheeks colour in happiness and anticipation at the prospect of spending alone time with him.

She pushed her hair behind her ears again. "I'm going to go get lunch. You want something?"

"Nah."

"Okay. Can I go ahead?"

He snorted. "Why would you ask me that?"

Jess stood up. "I don't want you to be alone. You know, with everything that's happening…"

"Cas will be here soon, like you said," Sam shrugged. "It's fine."

"It's not that… you guys are testifying against…" She pursed her lips, glancing shiftily at him.

Underneath the blanket, Sam clenched his fists. "My brother would never do that to me, Jess."

Her chuckle was nervous. "Yeah, and… this hospital is probably the last place—"

"Dean will not do that to me." She didn't know even half of it. She didn't know what Dean had sacrificed for him. Sam knew he sounded a little scary right now but he wanted her to leave.

"Sorry," she whispered.

Sam relaxed. "Look, I know what it all seems like to you, but he's never done a single thing to harm me or Cas, okay?"

"I know, but Sam—"

"Let's not talk about it, Jess," said Sam. "I mean, with everything… the news and the FBI…"

"I get it." She leaned over and kissed Sam's cheek. "I'm sorry about Dean."

"I know you are."

"All right." She headed to the door, voice still quiet, "See you."

As he watched her leave, Sam had an idea. Jess was unquestioning and mostly innocent and that was something he really needed right now. She definitely wasn't dumb, though, so he needed to be careful asking her.

He licked his lip. "Hey, Jess?"

She turned back, already in the corridor but poking her head back in. "Yeah?"

"Book me a flight to Montana for tomorrow? I have a meeting in Whitefish."

She raised an eyebrow. "Sam—"

"Please," he said. "I've already missed a lot of clients. My stitches are healing well, I have no infection. I'm good. I won't exert myself. I promise. I can do this one."

"No, Sam."

Dammit. He should have asked Cas. But Cas was worse about this right now. He was taking his task of filling in for Dean very seriously and Sam didn't need to be coddled.

"Jess," he pleaded. "I need to get this shit out of my mind."

"Did your firm put you up to this?" she asked. "They should be booking you that ticket, first of all, not you, and if they're making you go tomorrow…" She clenched her jaw, looking all ready to rage and storm at Sam's colleagues.

"It's research," he said. "There is a hearing a week from now and I was working on the case before this whole fiasco happened. I'd wanted to investigate it. It's for me, okay? I have this hunch and they think I'm stupid for it. That's why they're not paying."

"So you didn't tell them."

"I told them, but they don't think it's important. And this guy—in Montana—he's important. I can see it and just… I need to do something to get my mind off Dean, okay?"

She sighed. "Sam."

"Please? I'd ask Cas but Cas already has a lot to deal with and he's tense all the time. I'll be back in a day."

"Cas will notice you're gone, you know," she pointed out, planting a hand against the open door. "You should tell him if you're concerned of how nervous he's going to be."

"I will. I will, but for tomorrow—"

"You know I can't…"

"Please." His voice dropped to a whisper. He had it in his head now that he needed to see Dean, meet with his brother once and convince him everything was fine. He just needed one fucking day with Dean.

Jess must have noticed the desperation, because she nodded. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah." She looked into his eyes. "If you promise to take care of yourself."

He grinned. "You know I'm the happiest when I'm working… apart from being with you and Dean and Cas, of course," he added hastily.

"Figures," replied Jess, grinning. "For someone who just heard of my plans for tomorrow night, you are ridiculously indifferent to sex."

"I'm not indifferent," he replied. "I'm just taking a rain check." He gave her a pleading look. "I just need this done, Jess."

She laughed, shaking her head. "Okay, Sam Winchester, your puppy-dog eyes win. I'll have that ticket ready for you. But you remember your promise of being careful."

He rolled his eyes. "I have no plans to experience this again. Believe me."

"I believe you." Her words carried more weight than he had anticipated and he felt his heart floating up to his chest, filled with happiness at the prospect of meeting Dean tomorrow.

~o~

"Sam, why would you do this?"

Cas was pissed and if he got any angrier, he'd have steam pouring out of his ears. Sam had just been discharged and Cas had been driving him back home when he revealed his plans to Cas. Sam knew he ought to cringe at his brother-in-law's clenched jaw and shining eyes, but he didn't care.

"I need to meet up with him," Sam maintained.

"Yes, and you could expose him for doing that."

"I will be careful, Cas," replied Sam. "Don't stop me. Not you, too."

"I'm stopping you for a good reason." Cas's eyes were on the road as he swallowed. "I've had to say some disgusting lies about your brother—just so I could keep my word."

"I know."

"And do you not respect any of that? Respect that Dean is in hiding for you?"

"He also doesn't know that I'm fine now," Sam whispered, staring at his lap, watching slats of sunlight run over him and pass as they drove through quiet streets. "He deserves to know that everything he did—everything you did, for me, is working."

"I wish he could know, too, Sam—"

"I just need to thank him."

"He knows you are thankful. You're brothers. He doesn't need you to confirm such things with him."

"I'd feel better if I did."

There was silence. Cas didn't say anything, mouth shut tightly as he drove and Sam turned away from him to think. He was going to pack his bags the moment he got home. His flight was in a couple of hours. He needed burner phones—those prepaid ones. He could give one to Dean so the FBI wouldn't track them that way.

The car came to a halt before Dean's house and Sam gathered his cane, turning over to Cas, who hadn't moved from his place. His eyes were still stuck straight ahead, knuckles white on the steering wheel. Sam hesitated a moment before putting a hand on Cas's shoulder. "Hey."

Cas didn't respond. He seemed to have frozen right there and Sam wondered if he should shake him, but he didn't need to, for Cas suddenly leaned forward, slumping against the wheel, forehead resting on it. His eyes were shut, his breaths sharp.

Sam sighed. "Cas." He waited another moment before continuing, "I'm gonna go there and kick Dean's butt. Then we're going to get him back."

Cas let out another breath. "I miss him," he said earnestly, sincerely, and Sam gripped his shoulder tighter.

"I know."

Cas surfaced, eyes reflecting pain as he turned to Sam. "If I send something with you, will you give it to Dean?"

Sam clapped his back once. "Of course, man."

"Thank you."

They stayed like that in silence for a bit before they both gathered themselves, for the masks they would have to wear when they faced Jess again. For the promise Cas had made to Dean, to stay safe.

~o~

Sam ran into Charlie when he went out to Lowell for the prepaid cells later that day. She was looking at headphones when Sam entered, so her back was turned to him, but he could recognise her anywhere. Ideally and on any other day he would have loved to speak to her, but not right now. He wanted her not to see what he was about to do.

If he made casual conversation with her and ensured she was out of the store before he bought the phones, he'd be at less risk.

He walked over and tapped her shoulder. Charlie flinched but her face broke into a huge grin when she saw him. "Sam!"

"Hey!" He let her hug him and hugged her back. "How're you doing?"

"Not bad," she said, standing back. "You?"

"I'm out of the hospital," he said, shrugging, "so okay, I guess."

"Saw that on the news." The grin vanished. "I'm so sorry, Sam."

He cleared his throat, pushing his hair back. "It's uh, it's fine, Charlie, thank you."

"Dean, he seemed like such a nice guy, you know," she said, eyeing the store owner as she lowered her voice. "He was great with me."

"Me, too." Sam chuckled. "He is still—he didn't have anything against you, or—"

"I know that." She put her hand on his forearm. "Plus, if he intended to end us, I wouldn't be talking to you here, right?" She laughed nervously.

"He would never think of doing that to you," said Sam, and Charlie stopped laughing.

"How do you know?"

"I just do."

She nodded. "I believe you, then." There was a moment of quiet as she reached for her headphones and showed them to the shopkeeper before putting them on the counter for billing.

"I gotta go," she told Sam. "Take care. Tell Cas I said hi and give him a kiss from me."

"I'll say hi," Sam said, chuckling, "not sure I'll be kissing him, though."

She rolled her eyes as she stood on tiptoe to throw her arms around his neck and pull him forward to peck his cheek. "I love you. All you guys," she said. "No matter what the headlines say about Dean."

Sam didn't quite know what to say. "Thank you," he whispered back.

"You're a dork, just like Dean says." She grabbed her bag from the counter and gave Sam the Vulcan salute. "See ya later, bitch."

He waved at her, part sad and part relieved as she exited the shop. "Bye, Charlie."

He hadn't known many good people in his life, but he knew Charlie was one of them and Sam was extremely thankful for her. She was a great person and part of him was glad she wasn't working in Dean's diner anymore. That she was not involved in his family drama. Even if it meant they couldn't run the joint now for lack of replacements for her and Kevin.

She was better off far away from all this.

o

-Then-

Cas had a box of all of Dean's letters back to him. Dean, unlike Cas, wasn't very elaborate. He wrote short things, explained what was going on, and added a couple of pictures of him and Sam. Cas didn't expect, or even want, more from Dean. He preferred and loved Dean for how he was, from before Bobby died, and then after, when Dean asked Cas to join him on his hunts. The letters had, obviously, stopped after Cas graduated and moved in with Dean. They'd stayed in South Dakota for the next few years, Dean fixing cars and Cas doing freelance magazine work while trying to get published. They saw Sam off to Stanford and Cas had never felt more pride for anyone in his life. When Sam was in his third year of pre-law, Dean took Maureen's advice and opened a diner. But, since he wanted badly to change things around in life, they moved to Tyngsborough after Dean had read up about the smallest, least heard-of towns they could be in.

Living with Dean had been difficult and beautiful and worth it. They woke up curled in each other's arms and Cas could never stop marvelling at the feel of Dean pressed against him, warm and naked. Sometimes in the mornings Dean would wake him up with kisses, fingers running all over Cas as Cas left half-moon indentations on Dean's back from gripping tight, gasping and grunting in pleasure, their heartbeats and breaths frantic and working as one.

Sometimes, Cas joined Dean in the shower or caught him in the kitchen, or let Dean brace him against walls to snatch kisses. They'd watch TV together and Dean would let Cas cuddle him on the cold evenings underneath big blankets. When they fought they always made up and when they went on their hunts, they always knew to have fun.

Stalking their game was the best bit. It was good to see how these horrible people were so easy to catch, stupid and unsuspecting as they were. Carving into their skin gave Cas relief. Like he'd been avenged. Like every time they did it, they got what they deserved from the world. Watching Dean work, working with him, everything was a pleasure. It was never hurried; it never needed to be stealthy. Their tracks were always covered.

Most of all, the one thing Cas would never forget was the day he'd finished a hunt, only to arrive home to one of the biggest and best moments of his life. They'd eliminated Henry Ericson today; he worked for a drug lord, and was involved in killing several innocents. They'd tracked him and his colleagues, and they had a plan of eliminating them all, but working towards it slowly so the police wouldn't make a connection.

It had been so good to see that vile, horrible man beg for his life. So good to carve into his flesh, Dean grinning alongside him, taunting the man, leaning in occasionally for a kiss. They took their time; no one was going to look for this man a while. In the end, like always, ever since he'd avenged Bobby, Dean asked Cas to go wait in the car as he took the heart out. Cas cleaned up, waited, and read a book and Dean emerged in a bit, all bright smiles and a wink and gestured to Cas to help him bury the body.

It took a while to do that, like always. They wanted to make sure no one found the body, not even accidentally, and for that, the grave had to be perfect, so they dug on and on until it was. They were sweaty when they finished the whole job and it was way past dinnertime. Finally, when they'd replaced the last of the soil, Dean held his spade in one hand, wiped the sweat off his brow, and linked arms with Cas to walk back to their car.

They put their gear in the trunk and Cas made himself comfortable in the car again, waiting for Dean to put some of his knives back in. When he came and sat in the driver's seat, Cas shut his eyes and breathed in the familiar, comforting smell of blood when he leaned over to kiss Dean. This felt amazing.

"That was so good," he remarked against Dean's lips. "I can't wait to start working on our next hunt."

"I know," Dean replied. "Me either." He looked extra-happy today. "I'm gonna drop you back at the motel and get us grub. That good?"

"Sure," said Cas. "And we need to call Sam. We haven't yet today."

"We'll do it once I get dinner," said Dean. "Talking to assholes makes me hungry."

Cas shook his head. "He deserved it."

"Tell me about it. He got some kids killed. Not cool." Dean pulled out in reverse, squinting through the back windshield. He turned into a dirt lane and soon the lone, rundown cabin and the newly-dug grave were in the rearview mirror and Cas was enjoying the aftereffects of his adrenaline rush. An hour later they were back at the motel. Dean dropped Cas at their doorstep and said he'd be back with food and Cas kissed him again. "Get back soon, I'm hungry."

"As soon as I can," Dean promised. The twinkle in his eyes made Cas extremely happy and he watched the Impala disappear into the distance before making his way into the room. When he switched on the lights, he realised there was something on their bed. It looked like a card from where he was standing.

Frowning, Cas slowly made his way to the bed and picked up the item. It was really a card, and it was plain, except, there was writing when he opened it. Dean's writing. Something fell out onto the mattress and Cas's heart skipped a beat at the scrawl.

Marry me.

He looked down to see a ring, a plain silver ring on the sheets, and then felt a presence at the door. When Cas turned, Dean was walking towards him, smiling, and Cas couldn't help but blink as Dean placed a soft kiss on his lips and went down on one knee.

'Well?" he asked, and he looked too calm and confident to be doing something like this; just like the man Cas loved.

Cas took Dean's hand. "Yes."