Ten: The Heartbreaker
Dean was frozen for what felt like hours.
He didn't understand. The jars, the hearts, and… the labels. The Bradys. It had to be them. But how did they know about this? Had those assholes been to Dean's house? How had they found out? How had they followed Dean to this cabin?
A bird squawked somewhere, breaching the silence in the air and the disbelief and fear in Dean's head. He was staring down at the hearts of the two kids he cared most about, of the girl who was like a sister to him and a boy who had the world at his feet. It was like some weird form of karma, everything he'd done coming back to him, but those bastards, the ones he had killed, had deserved it. Charlie and Kevin, though, what had they ever done to anyone?
He was going to get back at those fuckers for this. They didn't get to do this. They didn't get to rip apart the people Dean cared about. He wasn't sitting quiet now. No fucking way.
Before he knew it he was calling Cas, phone at his ear, hands stinking of dried blood and formalin and stomach back flipping like it never had before at the mere sight of the jars. Cas picked up after three rings.
"Dean?"
"I'm coming back there."
There was a sharp breath. "What happened?"
"They killed Charlie. And Kevin." Dean felt numb as he said it, numb and dead and he wanted to rage and storm and break something but he couldn't seem to move enough for it.
"The Bradys?"
"Who else do you think?" The intense anger was back and Dean got up from his kneeling position, slamming his fist against the wooden cabin wall. "Shit. Shit. Should have realised those two assholes weren't the last of them!"
"Dean, please don't come here."
"Cas, I need to do this. They've gone too far."
"Dean. Dean!"
Before Cas could continue, Dean had cut his call. There was no way he was reasoning with Cas about this crap. Once and for all, the Bradys were going to be dead.
~o~
Jess was at the airport to pick Sam up and it took one look at her face to know that she'd probably already spoken to the FBI. Cas had messaged him at the airport before he left Montana and he'd been thinking of excuses all the way back. Finally, he'd decided to pretend to be oblivious to whatever bothered her.
Jess did not smile or even talk when she saw Sam, and Sam did the same. She helped him with his bags and he limped after her, watching her stiffly walk away. They got into Cas's car in silence and she started to drive, still wordless. A few minutes later he had just rested his cane against his thigh when she spoke up. "So how was Whitefish?"
"Good."
"Meeting go well?"
"Yes."
"Did he say he was going to murder more people? And that you should just say nothing about it?"
Sam turned, squinting at Jess, pretending she didn't make sense to him. "What are you talking about?"
She gave him a cold look. "I know you went to visit Dean."
"No, Jess, I—"
"Don't lie. I talked to Danny."
Sam frowned. "Danny?"
"I wanted to tell them to let you rest a while. I thought it was unfair you were already working a case. Turned out," she sighed, "it wasn't a case. How long have you been lying about this, Sam? Since when did you know about Dean?"
Sam was not about to answer that. He folded his arms. "You decided to spy on me?"
She glared at him. "I wasn't spying, okay? I just wanted you to get better."
"Who told you that was your responsibility?"
"You're my boyfriend!"
Sam clenched his fists. "So?"
"So? I can't take care of you a little bit?"
He rolled his eyes and relaxed against his seat. "Just stop, okay? Stop with this."
"Stop with what?"
"All your coddling! That's all you've been doing ever since I fucking woke up! I'm a grown man, Jess."
"So you're going to put this crap on me? You went to meet Dean because my coddling was too much?" Her anger was evident in her voice, and Sam would recoil if he didn't have bigger things to worry about. Jess rarely got pissed like this. But, okay, she had a point right now. He'd give her that.
He snorted, turning to watch the Boston skyline as it whizzed by. He wished they were back in Tyngsborough already. "Please," he said, "this has got nothing to do with you."
"Okay," she said. "Fine. I can understand that. I am not officially part of your family yet and there are things that have nothing to do with me. But are you going to pretend this is not related to Cas either?"
He raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"You know he's not all right," she hissed. "You know better than I do how he's taking this whole thing with Dean. Why would you egg him on?"
"I didn't egg him on."
"So he didn't downright lie when he said you were visiting that friend of yours, Rufus, at Whitefish? Because he either knew—or realised that it was Dean you'd been visiting?"
"I was not visiting Dean," Sam maintained. "And yes, I went there to say hey to Rufus, all right? He's been around for me and Dean a lot. It's a bad time. I needed some fucking space so sue me for lying, Jess. I said I was working so you wouldn't call me. I needed to be away. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
She snorted. "That's funny. You told me last year that Rufus is dead. But… sure."
Sam froze. Shit. Shitshitshit.
"I mean," Jess continued, "I could, for a bit understand why Cas lied about that. I think he was hoping to get news about Dean, and he isn't doing so well. It's pretty obvious." She smiled. "I knew you couldn't lie for shit."
The silence that followed was one of the most horrible periods of Sam's life. He folded his arms, knowing Vargas was probably coming for him and Cas soon. If Jess decided to complain. He knew Cas was handling Dean's situation right now but this was so, so fucked up.
"I think we should split up."
Jess's voice breached the silence and Sam looked at her from his place to watch a single tear slipping down her cheek while she continued to stare at the road. "I don't know what's going on with you but I will not get involved in this. I tried to help you and I always will but you're covering up for someone's heinous crimes and I can't be a part of that. I can't be with you anymore if this is how it's going to be. If you're going to lie and cheat everyone like this. I can't be on your side for this."
Sam's heart missed a beat. He was the one who was supposed to say this to her. He reckoned it was easier this way but he didn't know why he felt bad, now that she had voiced exactly what he wanted.
He reined himself in. "Okay."
"Okay," she echoed, sniffing. "I'll drop you off and take my things. I have that hotel booking anyway, so…"
He didn't reply to that. He enjoyed Boston's view, and then the smaller roads, and he didn't utter a word until they stopped at Dean and Cas's place. When Sam was taking his things out, he sensed Jess's eyes on him and turned to her. She averted her stare and focussed on the ground. "You've changed," she said.
"No."
"You have." Her eyes were filling again when they met his. "You're not him anymore. You're not Sam…" she swallowed, blinking the tears away.
"I still love my family," he said. "I love the people I love. You know that."
"I wish that were the only thing you needed to be."
Sam drew out his bag and slung it over his shoulder. "I will always stick up for Dean. There are things he's done for me that you would never understand."
"You're right," she whispered in reply. "I don't. Not the fact that Dean has done more for you than I know. And also how and when you got so damned selfish."
He left her there and entered the house, the sound of her broken voice still lingering in his ears.
~o~
Cas had tried calling Dean several times after that last talk. Dean was obviously not in Whitefish anymore from what he could deduce because he wasn't stupid enough to stay. Plus, he was in one of his rages and Cas knew he was probably driving out to Massachusetts full speed.
Vargas had already phoned in, asking Cas about Dean.
"Sam's girlfriend called," she said, sounding business-like, "Dean was trying to contact Sam. What do you have to say?" Cas realised that Jessica had lied to Vargas. This was interesting.
"Dean does care about Sam," he said.
"So could he have contacted Sam?"
"He might have tried to," said Cas. "Sam didn't know. Jessica was the one who told me."
"She said he tried your landline."
"Then I believe her."
"Castiel, if he tries again…"
"I will tell you."
"Yes. You will. Our deal stands."
Cas sighed. "I understand, Agent." He ended the call, knowing they were done, and clenched at the bedcovers as he turned his head to the ceiling to take a few deep breaths.
He didn't know if Vargas had bought his story, but he could only hope for the best. He could literally see her wiretapping their phones though, if it hadn't been done already, and he had no doubt that it had. She would start looking for their burner phones now. He was just hoping for the best anyway.
Now he had had enough of Dean ignoring him and being stupid, so when he tried Dean's phone again and didn't get a reply, Cas left a voicemail to his husband.
"Dean," he said, "if you don't call me right now I am, as you would say, divorcing your ass."
He felt anxious and smug when he put his phone down, knowing Dean would definitely call back now, and hoping the police didn't find him first.
~o~
Belle thought about her short conversation with Castiel. She had his and Sam's phones wiretapped but for some reason had never thought to do their landline. No one ever called on those these days, and they had Sam's girlfriend over, so why would Dean risk having her catch him?
Except, apparently, he had risked it. Maybe he didn't know Jessica was staying over at their place. It had to be that, or the fact that Castiel was lying, and he was very aware of what was happening. That seemed even more plausible. Belle did not trust Castiel Winchester and she had good reason for it. It was very apparent that given the chance, he would go back to Dean without a backward glance, would welch on their deal, although, he didn't have much choice here. Even still, he needed to be monitored closely.
Could he and Sam and Dean be communicating via burner phones?
Her phone chose to beep at that moment with an email, on the investigation she'd ordered on the last few calls received on the Winchesters' phone number. She opened the attachment immediately to check, only realising the next moment that Dean, in fact had not called. There were no unknown numbers, no payphone numbers—nothing suspicious. It was too clean.
Had Jessica lied? She'd also said Sam was at work with some clients—maybe she was trying to divert from that? Maybe work wasn't what Sam was really doing?
Belle needed information about the firm that Sam was working at.
As for finding the burner phones. She could, of course, get another search warrant and ransack that house again, but phones could be hidden anywhere or destroyed if they knew she was coming. It would be easier to just find out if they existed and do more wiretaps. This would take a couple of weeks, but it was doable, at least.
She stood up from her laptop and moved to the window of her room, scrolling through her contacts to get through to the local PD. She would talk to them about searching around to see if either Sam or Castiel had gotten a burner phone and track the type and number. These people, if they were involved with Dean, were not escaping from her clutches. Henriksen had been damn good but Belle was better.
She was going to prove it, too.
~o~
Sam watched Jess leave, already feeling a little guilty with their less-than-stellar break-up. She hadn't spoken a word after, just gathered her things and left as soon as she could. Sam had watched her pack, her hair shrouding her beautiful face and her tears, but when she'd given him one defiant last look before leaving, it was like she was challenging him to feel any more remorse about this entire situation.
Sam had just shut the door and made himself comfortable on the sofa with a magazine when Cas entered the living room, hasty and bothered. He stopped when he saw Sam.
"When did you get back?"
"Just now," Sam replied, "your bedroom door was shut, I thought you were busy." He nodded at Cas's troubled appearance. "What's wrong?"
Cas clenched his fists. "Charlie is dead," he said.
Sam almost dropped his magazine. "What?"
"And Kevin," said Cas. "At least, that's what I think it is."
Sam stared at him for a moment before he was able to speak. "What the hell, Cas?"
"Those are exactly my thoughts, but then your brother called and made it worse."
"How now?"
"He's coming here."
"To Tyngsborough?"
"Yes. He wants to kill the Bradys. Entirely."
Sam blinked, then reached forward for his cane. "Okay," he said, "if Dean's gonna be stupid, I think I should correct the one thing I messed up."
Cas raised an eyebrow. "And what is that?"
"Jess."
"What happened to her?"
"She left." Sam ran a hand through his hair, scuffing his shoe against the carpet. "I'll explain once I talk to her."
"Did she just leave? How didn't I notice? Sam, I tried to convince her about your trip to Whitefish—"
"She left just now," Sam confirmed with Cas. "She knew about Rufus. We kinda broke up."
Cas's eyes widened. "I'm sorry."
"Nah, I was planning to split anyway… I just hope she doesn't tell Vargas the whole thing." He clenched his jaw, realising just how deeply screwed they were. "I need to talk to her. She's at a hotel nearby."
"Jessica did speak to Vargas," said Cas, "but she lied."
"Lied, how?"
"She said Dean contacted us. She didn't give up his location." Cas looked away. "Love is a strange thing, Sam."
Guilt twisted Sam's insides again. "Shit."
"Precisely."
"I gotta go see her," said Sam. "She's pissed but I… I have to tell her…" he bit the inside of his cheek. "What are you going to do?"
"I think we should both stay back," said Cas. "Vargas is already highly suspicious. Just leave it be."
"What if Jess tells her about Montana?"
"If she does, Dean isn't there and he is safe now. So Vargas can search all she wants. But Sam, she won't."
"How do you know?"
"Like I said, love is strange. She is angry. She will take a while to stop loving you. Until then I believe you are relatively safe."
Sam chuckled. "I am going to hope you're not wrong there, Cas, 'cause if you are, we're screwed."
"Yes," said Cas. "We are in a mess, I cannot deny that. Not Dean, though. Not yet. We can stop that."
And that single thought kept Sam going. "Yeah," he said. "We can."
~o~
A while after their conversation Sam had begun to pace. He looked restless, like he wanted to do something, but he seemed unsure. He clenched and unclenched his jaw several times, casting glances at Cas then his watch, pacing more, and then at long last, letting out a quick breath. Cas himself had been checking his phone over and over, waiting for Dean to contact him but Sam couldn't seem to take the tension anymore.
"Okay," he said as he stopped pacing, "I'm making dinner." He started limped away to the kitchen. Cas followed him.
"I'll help."
"I'm also baking a pie," said Sam, "because Dean is so stupid, he deserves to fucking miss it. He fucking screwed everything up trying to avenge me. Idiot."
Cas chuckled. "Yes, that is a good enough punishment for your brother's idiocy, and to act like we haven't been as bad. Come on." He pretended like he was happy, like it was just another day and they were pulling Dean's leg, but both he and Sam knew that it wasn't going well at all. Cas just hoped that at this point, Dean would call him back.
He didn't have to wait more than twenty minutes for it, though. Cas was cutting a tomato when his phone rang again. He knew who it was even before he looked, but he smiled when he saw the number, despite everything that ran through his head. He wiped his hand on his apron and took it.
"Dean," he said, eager to listen to his husband's voice again.
"What the fuck was that voicemail, Cas?"
"Please listen to me—"
"I'm driving and I will be there as soon as I can."
Cas sighed. "Don't do this. The FBI is after you. Vargas called me. This is too risky."
"Screw that, dude."
"No." Cas put the knife down. "No. We've worked too hard on this. You need to listen to me."
"We? Cas, you fucking work for those assholes. You have a cushy deal with them to help them find me. What is your problem?"
Cas felt like Dean had driven a spike through his heart. He had never wanted to be like this in the first place. Never wanted to stay away from Dean. Sam didn't, either. Why was Dean talking like this?
"I'm just doing what you asked me to," he said, voice faltering. "You know I wouldn't even come back if it wasn't necessary."
"Yeah, and you're comfortable, right? I made damn sure you would be, so don't sit on our goddamned couch and tell me what to do. Screw you."
"Dean—"
"No, Cas, I—"
Cas took in a sharp breath. "Fucking please, Dean."
Dean stopped at that, the effect immediate. Cas never swore and they both knew that and Dean seemed spellbound for a moment. A moment filled with silence.
Cas rubbed at the bridge of his nose. This was a lot harder than he thought it would be, but he wasn't letting go. "Can I at least meet you?"
"Why, so you can change my mind?"
"No." Cas paused. "I love you." He reached towards the cabinet for a mug. Sam was eyeing him, questioning, but Cas just managed a nod. He needed coffee. He needed to do something with himself. He needed Dean back, but not like this. Sam contemplated him for a moment and then left the kitchen, deciding to give Cas his privacy with Dean.
"Why are you saying that?" Dean asked from the other end of the line, sounding wary.
"Saying what?"
"That. You know."
Cas swallowed as he took out his mug. "I love you. You know I do." He had no qualms about saying it again. Dean, on the other hand, had never said it. Not even once.
"Don't give me your fucking emotional shit," Dean snapped, quite suddenly. Cas winced as he reached for the coffee pot. "You get me, Cas?"
"Yes," he replied. The pot shook in his hands. He was tired. "I just… I'm sorry. I… I am a little stressed, Dean, I didn't mean. With everything with Jessica and Charlie and Kevin dying…"
There was a pause after that, but it ended when Dean let out a sigh. "Look, I didn't mean to…"
Cas stood there, staring at their kitchen and thinking of Dean pinning him against the island one too many times. Consumed by sudden weakness, he put the coffee pot down and sank to the floor to lean against the cabinets. "I know."
"You okay?"
"No." Cas shut his eyes. "No. Things are not going well and I need to meet you. Please let me."
Dean took a moment. "Cas," he said, "calm down, okay?"
"I am calm."
"No, you're freaking out." Cas realised then that his hands were still shaking. He clenched them. "Hey," Dean said again, "I'll meet you in Cleveland. That okay?"
"Yes."
"It'll take me a while to get there, so don't leave until I say so. Vargas is probably watching, too. I'll send you the coordinates. Don't worry."
Don't worry. Right. That was an understatement, Cas thought as he let out a breathy laugh. He waited for Dean to end the call, trying to shake off the dread that was building in his gut regarding what he was about to do.
He let the phone fall from his grip. He was unable to gather the willpower to get back up until Sam came over and knelt down to throw an arm around Cas, leaning against the cabinets with him.
"We'll deal with it," he said, but he sounded angry.
Cas knew why Sam was angry. He couldn't be sure, either. That they could deal with it. He had never felt so close to tears in a long, long time and he knew he was already not dealing with it.
The next day was horrible. Cas couldn't stop trying to browse through news channels. He was anxious every time his phone rang, scared it was Vargas, but each moment of silence from his phone killed him because he needed to hear from Dean and he didn't.
Sam coaxed him into watching a movie and Cas couldn't. They were both equally nervous; they both were hoping Dean was all right and while no news was good news, the lack of it was daunting.
It was around seven in the evening when Cas heard from Dean. It was just a text message, just a word, but it made his heart flutter and he felt like he had a lot of pent-up energy he needed to release. He already had packed his things and when he was in his room, gathering them up, Sam knocked at the door.
"Come in," Cas told him.
Sam looked tired and a little haunted. "Hey," he said quietly. He'd been a rock to Cas today, and Cas suspected vice-versa. He'd never felt so close to his brother-in-law, never this bonded, although they had always been very fond of each other and the best of friends.
"Dean texted me," said Cas. "Thank you, Sam."
Sam nodded. "Are you leaving immediately?"
Cas sighed. "Yes. This is all I can do right now anyway. I need to convince him that this is a bad idea."
"How will you do that?"
"I'll just… speak to him." Cas collapsed onto his bed, bending forward to hide his face in his hands. "Hopefully, he'll listen to me. Plus, my meeting him will stall him for a bit."
"Cas, you know when he's on a rampage—"
"Yes," Cas replied. He traced an unsure finger over the circular print on the bedcover. "It's difficult to talk to him, but I need to try, Sam."
"I get it," said Sam. "Let me know if you need help."
"I'd rather you weren't involved."
Sam opened his mouth, possibly to protest, but something held him back. He gripped his cane tighter. "You gonna take care?"
"Yes. I will. Of Dean, too."
Sam waited there for a moment, watched, and then got down to sit beside Cas before grabbing him into a hug. Cas returned it a moment later, gripping Sam tight, and Sam patted his shoulder when they pulled away.
"What are you going to do?" Cas asked him.
"I was thinking I'll meet Jess," said Sam. "She's leaving tomorrow, so this is the last chance I have, you know."
Cas smiled wanly, understanding what Sam meant. "Good luck to you, too, then. I hope you're successful, as well."
Sam shrugged. "I don't see why we won't be, Cas."
He held onto that thought, that ray of hope, and got up to make his way to Dean, knowing both he and Sam had a lot of work to do to correct this situation.
~o~
7:30 PM
The same day
Tyngsborough, MA
Jess was unimpressed to see Sam when she opened the door. He'd already waited at least ten minutes when she decided to open it, and right now she was in her pyjama shorts already (he almost forgot how much she loved wearing pyjamas even if it wasn't night time). She put her hands on her hips. "Sam."
"Can I come in?"
"No."
"Please."
She bit her lip. "What do you want?"
"Just to talk. I promise." He sighed. "Give me a chance to explain."
She contemplated him for a while, expression undeterred, and at long last, stood back to let Sam limp in. He settled his cane against the wall, casting a brief glance at the small, clean room around him. Jess had wanted to spend the night with him here.
He pushed that away from his head. "Listen, Jess, I've been—"
"An ass."
"Yes, yes, I have, and…"
"Sam," she said, "just leave, okay? I don't want any more explanations for this. I told you I don't want to be a part of this at all. Just leave."
Sam looked down at his shoes. "He's my brother."
"I remember. I also remember that he's a serial killer."
"He took care of me."
"And killed fifty people."
"Please…"
"If you're going to defend him, Sam, I don't want to hear it. You can leave. I chickened out and told the cops he tried to contact you and somehow I got contacted. So you're not even involved. Not really. They will ask you questions, but…"
Sam went forward to cup her face. "Hey. Hey, look—"
She pushed him away. "Please leave," she repeated. With that, she made her way to the bathroom, shutting herself in there.
~o~
8:03 PM
Cas swore this was one of the strangest, most difficult days he'd ever experienced in his life full of strange and difficult things. The phone calls today wouldn't stop and he was half-scared that Vargas was going to wiretap him or Dean, apart from being fearful of Dean being caught by some other police. And just as he thought so, on this horrible, horrible day of his, filled with phone calls, there was another one, the ringing of his phone jarring as he drove. He looked at it and realised that this time it was Vargas. He clenched his jaw as he pulled over to the shoulder.
"Yes?"
"Where are you?"
He realised Vargas could probably hear the sounds of the cars passing by. He'd stolen the car he was driving but he still didn't want to take chances. He bit his lip. "I'm not home."
"Where?"
"I'm in Worcester. I needed some books and they have a Barnes and Noble here. You can contact me if you need to." The fact that he was in Worcester was the truth and he knew Vargas would be tracing him to this place.
"Okay." He heard her breath rustle against the receiver before she spoke up again. "Are you sure you don't know where Dean is?"
"Yes, I'm sure," he lied. "I would have told you."
"Castiel…"
"I don't know where he is."
She was silent for a moment. "Okay, then."
"Okay—"
"No, listen to me."
"Yes?"
"If Dean contacts you, or even Sam. If either of you knows where he is, tell him that we can maybe negotiate his sentence and not kill him."
"Maybe?"
"He's a murderer, of course he won't go scot free. But I will talk about a negotiation with the prosecutor who will take his case up."
Cas swallowed, staring at the cars that ran ahead of him. "If he contacts me, I'll tell him."
"You do that." Her voice sounded menacingly final and Cas knew he and Dean were about to dig their own graves. He didn't care, though. If he were about to die, this was the way he'd prefer to go.
He leaned back against the seat, trying to will himself to pull back onto the road and continue to drive, but he smiled when he thought of Dean. "I'll go with you, Dean," he whispered. With that, he was driving again with all the courage he needed.
~o~
8:06 PM
When Jess came out of the bathroom, Sam had lit the candles she'd spoken about two days ago. He had found them on the kitchenette counter along with a lighter and he had taken the opportunity, lit them, and waited on her bed. He liked the room, he realised. She'd really made efforts to try and cheer him up, to make him feel better about all this in her own way, and this was a testament to that. Had he not screwed up with her, this would be exactly where he was to be expected tonight.
He straightened when the bathroom door opened and watched Jess emerge, not expecting her nonchalance when she saw the candles. Instead, she put her hands on her hips. "You're still here."
"I said I'd take a rain check on this." He shrugged.
"The offer doesn't stand." She went over to blow out the candles but Sam got to his feet, wrapping his arms around her from behind. She looked sexy in her shorts, hair in a messy bun, and Sam wanted to take her to bed and appreciate every bit of her if she would let him.
He rested his chin on her shoulder. "Jess, please, just once. Listen…"
"Sam." She squirmed and broke away from his grip to push him. He stumbled back a few steps, blinking in surprise but before he knew it she had taken two steps forward to cup his jaw. Their lips met.
He responded at once, sighing as her mouth worked against his. His hand found her thigh and he moved his fingers over her smooth skin to reach under her shorts.
Her breath faltered. The next moment she was pushing him again, gentle hands prodding him away, taking his hand off her. She stood back, face red and hugging herself, eyes brimming with tears.
Sam opened his arms, trying to take her again. "Jess."
"Please leave."
She sounded so done, so heartbroken, that he couldn't move for a bit. He realised there was nothing for him to do here. There was nothing he could fix. This was over.
"Okay," he whispered.
He collected his cane and left the room, deciding not to look back at Jess as he walked away.
~o~
11:45 PM
"The FBI called me, Dean, and they have a deal for you."
It was a few hours later and Cas was still driving. He felt tired; he needed rest for his mind more than anything, and he couldn't take any more of this driving, even though he would be reaching Dean in an hour now.
He heard Dean's exasperated release of breath from the other side of the phone at the mention of the deal. "Are you stupid, Cas?"
"No, I spoke to Agent Vargas."
"Yeah. She's lying so she can get me to confess. Probably you, too. They're gonna kill me, dude."
"Dean, she sounded serious about it."
"I bet she did. These assholes will always sound serious. They're good actors." Dean paused. "Where are you?"
Cas looked at the road stretching ahead of him, trying to ignore the tiredness crowding his eyes. "Getting there as fast as I can, Dean."
"Good. I'm here. Come exactly to the coordinates I told you and call me again if you need to. It's an abandoned house, so don't expect five-star service."
Cas rubbed at his face. "Okay, Dean. And the deal…?"
"Cas…"
"I need to ask."
"Fine. Meet me and we'll discuss it. Ya happy?"
"No, but this will do."
And, if Cas was honest, for now, Dean's willingness to listen was enough for him.
~o~
12:33 AM
It was the middle of the night and Sam was sleeping when his phone rang. It was not on the burner phone, though. It was an unknown number and with everything that was going on with Dean, he never felt good about things like this. So when he took the call, he was very well aware that this was probably the police. Literally no one else would really call him on this phone.
He cleared his throat. "Hello?"
"Sam Winchester?" a strange voice enquired among some background hustle and bustle.
"Yes?"
"You're required at the hospital immediately."
"Uh… Lowell General?"
"Yes."
"What's the matter?"
The caller was hesitant, but she spoke up after a minute. "There was a fire at the Red Cherry Hotel. There was one casualty. We believe she is Jessica Moore and we need you to come over to identify her remains. I'm… I'm very sorry, Mr. Winchester."
~o~
1:26 AM
The abandoned house that Dean had given Cas the address to looked positively uncomfortable. It was run down and located somewhere outside of public eye and it was obvious why Dean had chosen it. They would probably have to get vaccinated for tetanus after their talk here.
Cas parked his car a few blocks away and ran to the house. The Impala was nowhere to be seen in the vicinity of the house, meaning Dean had done the same. The house had a single flickering light at a window and Cas's heart missed a beat. Dean was here. He was finally going to meet Dean. Cas had driven as fast as he could without getting himself into trouble with the cops. He needed this, he needed to see Dean, to hold him, to talk, to not fight.
He could barely contain himself even as he reached the house and knocked at the door.
"Who's there?"
Dean's voice. Not from a phone, not far away. Just there.
Cas took a deep breath. "It's me."
~o~
1:26 AM
Jessica Moore was dead and Castiel was unreachable via phone. Sam had been called to identify the remains but Belle thought she knew exactly what was going on. When she had spoken to Castiel last, he was still around. Now, seven hours later, where had he gone?
"The fire came from a candle. They say she was asleep when it happened."
Sam's voice brought Belle back from her reverie. He looked small, somehow, hesitant and fumbling, and she didn't know what to say. He'd always seemed sure of himself. Confident. Fearless. Now he was just a young man trying to make heads or tails of everything and through her career Belle had always marvelled at how emotions and grief could completely change people like this.
"I lit those candles," Sam whispered. "Did she…?"
"We have reason to believe she had consumed a sedative," Belle told him quietly, needing to assure him.
"But I was there. I was in her room just before dinner."
"Where was Castiel?"
He looked up at her, hazel eyes widening. "Cas?"
"Yes, your brother-in-law. I can't trace him, can't get in touch with him. His car is still at the house but another car from two miles away was reported stolen. Did he go to meet Dean?"
"I… I don't—"
"Sam." She lowered her face to his level. "This is already a mess. I get a call from Jessica saying Dean tried to contact you—which, oh, I checked, he didn't call on your landline, so she was lying about something. This is all apart from the fact that you were not home for two days and when I contacted your firm they told me you'd gone to tackle a case at Montana despite them not expecting you to work until you fully recover. There is something going on here and we all know it so please tell me the truth. Did Castiel go to meet your brother?"
Sam pressed his lips together, looking pale and uneasy. He ran a shaking hand through his hair. "H-He might have."
Belle let out a breath. "What did he tell you?"
"Th-That he needs to speak with Dean."
"They have been in contact. And I want the truth again. No one is arresting you or your brother-in-law right now."
"I—"
"Sam. Is he in contact with Dean?"
"Yes," Sam whispered, and cleared his throat. "Yes."
"How?"
"Coded letters."
Belle felt her interest pique, glad that Sam was finally talking. "How didn't I expect that? So no cell phones?"
"No cell phones."
"And where is Dean? Montana?"
"Yes. Montana. Whitefish."
"The whole time?"
"Y-Yes."
"Did you go to meet him, Sam? Is that why you were there? I found out from your firm about a strange call from Jessica. No one's arresting you, so you can tell me."
"I… his c-cabin is difficult to find." Sam looked like he was on the verge of a meltdown. "I… Jess told me, she didn't… I supported Dean because he's my brother, and…"
"I understand." Dean was a murderer and Sam was a damned accessory after the fact but he was way more innocent than Castiel, and Belle could make another deal here. Sam was easier to pry the truth from than Castiel. Belle felt horrible taking for advantage of this tragedy, but it was best if Dean just got locked up now.
"Do you realise that Castiel might have killed your girlfriend?" she asked Sam, trying to be as gentle as possible.
He nodded. "I know why you think so. I know, a-after listening to m-me right now, you might not believe… but it's not Cas. He would never do that to me. It must be someone else, and I think I know who it is."
"Tell me."
He looked straight into her eyes and did not stutter this time. "The people who shot me. The Brady family."
~o~
1:28 AM
Cas's heart jumped into his throat as Dean opened the door and grabbed him. He stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind him and Dean was kissing him, every move of his lips filled with longing and lust. Cas didn't protest when Dean started to undo his clothes, pulling off his hoodie and t-shirt, kissing and nipping at Cas's jaw and ears and collarbone. He fumbled with Dean's shirt, fingers shaking, and he ran his hands over skin, feeling Dean's lips and teeth and moaning as he let Dean take him then and there.
They were writhing on a blanket that Dean had laid out, Cas on his side and Dean pressing up to him with his body rocking against Cas's. He had to bite his lips against Dean's warmth and touch and everything, everything, trying not to cry out because he didn't want to make noise. But, oh God. Oh God, ohgodohgod… Cas grunted, then gasped loudly as he came, Dean still gripping Cas's shoulder, thrusting against him. "Yeahh," he said, "oh, fuck yeah…"
A moment later Dean was climaxing, too, making Cas weak everywhere, sending his heartbeat fluttering and Cas didn't think he'd be able to stand or walk now. He didn't think he could move from here. He didn't want Dean gone, though, so when his husband pulled out, Cas was rolling over until he was on Dean, stroking his hair and kissing him again and again because, oh, he really, really loved Dean.
He didn't think he could love anyone this much.
Later, Cas sat relaxed in Dean's arms, still naked as Dean poured him whiskey in paper cups he stole from somewhere. It was incredible that Dean could find whiskey while on the run but there were some things Cas didn't doubt about Dean, one of them being his ability to acquire alcohol. The house was old and dusty but seemed to have a vaguely functioning TV and some electricity, even though Dean just switched on the dimmest light in the room so it wouldn't be immediately noticeable to anyone passing by. The blanket they were cuddling on was more comfortable than the bed Cas had slept in for so many days and he couldn't help but sigh. He had missed this so much.
Dean was resting against the wall behind him, holding Cas to himself with one bare leg draped around both of Cas's. He came up to kiss Cas's neck from behind, his lips sending butterflies into Cas's stomach. He sighed, sinking into the feeling as he let Dean cup his cheek, lips sucking at sensitive skin and making Cas shudder with every touch.
Dean's breaths were measured in the silence as he worked painfully slowly, each move sensual and enticing and unbearable. Cas realised then that he'd almost forgotten what he was here for, and it was so important that he needed Dean to listen. Hesitant about ending Dean's kisses, Cas turned around and kissed Dean's mouth to stop him. "We have to talk," he said.
Dean's hand was already moving down, fingers brushing against Cas's navel and lower. Cas's breath stuttered as blood rushed into his face. "Dean."
"Mmm."
Dean leaned in and kissed him again, his thumb working on Cas, and Cas was already becoming hard. He palmed the back of Dean's head, grunting, trying to pull away. "Dean, the deal."
"Yeah," Dean muttered. Cas hissed as Dean's palm rubbed him, goosebumps rising on his skin. Dean just kept murmuring against Cas's lips in between kisses, unperturbed. "I considered it," he said, tongue flicking at the side of Cas's mouth. "And it's dumb, so let me fuck you again now."
"Please think."
"Cas," Dean growled, "don't ruin it." He moved closer as he dragged his fingers, touching secret places and making Cas's breaths hitch. "All fours," he whispered.
Cas felt something sink into this stomach as Dean started to reach for the lube. "Do it before you come on me," Dean muttered, moving to kiss Cas again, but Cas turned away and disentangled himself from his husband.
Dean glared, hand falling limp to the side. "Shut up for a bit, man, and—"
"Hear me out," Cas interrupted him, still hard, but trying to focus. He'd really wanted the sex but they had more pressing issues right now. He drew in a breath. "What Vargas offered is a good deal."
That snapped Dean. "Excuse me?" He let go of Cas completely, sultriness gone and eyes growing dark. He took a sharp breath. "Okay, I'm not gonna explode. You explain."
Cas shrugged. "I just mean, you don't have to hide. Once you're out of prison, we can live happily."
Dean eyed him for a moment. "I need a drink," he growled. He reached for their whiskey glasses, turning his back to Cas as he took them over to his duffel and poured drinks. When he was back, he handed Cas a cup. "What do you mean, I'm out of prison?"
Cas drank the whole thing at once. He needed to deal with this. He needed to speak to Dean. "There is a bargain, Dean. A plea bargain. If you take that—"
"Are you forgetting who else killed those people with me?" Dean asked, taking a sip of his drink.
"I just did as you asked me to." Things were starting to swirl about a bit and Cas regretted drinking that whiskey all at once. He swayed and pushed back, leaning himself against the wall as he looked at Dean with half-mast eyes.
Dean didn't notice anything wrong with Cas as he finished his own whiskey and put his cup aside, his jaw clenching and unclenching. "That is fucking convenient, Cas. Screw you. I risked my ass for you and now you want me in jail!"
"That is not what I meant."
"I know exactly what you meant, and I'll say it again. Screw. You. Go back to your fucking FBI pals if this is what you came for." Dean stood up, kicking his paper cups away, and Cas was so tired. He knew what it sounded like, but honestly, he was willing to confess as well once they had Dean's deal settled. He wouldn't mind it if he had to spend the rest of his time with Dean in prison, but as far as possible he wanted to make sure they would both be out soon. Sam could do something about it. Help them. And if Vargas had a readymade deal for Dean right now… he… he was pretty sure this wasn't the reason he'd first… he'd wanted to confess with Dean.
His brain refused to work. Was he drunk already?
Dean wouldn't understand. That was the only thing Cas knew and…
He was too tired to negotiate. He just needed to switch off.
He blinked heavily. "I'm very tired, Dean."
"Good. Go the fuck to sleep." Dean wore his boxers roughly, blurring in and out of focus but not looking at Cas even for a bit.
Cas didn't even seem to have the strength to reach for his own clothes. He'd also slept naked too many times to care. He relaxed against the blanket. "Can we talk about this again in the morning?" he asked, opening his arms for Dean. "Please come here. Sleep next to me."
"No." Dean headed to the other corner of the room, removing more blankets from his duffel and the tone of his response threatened to shatter Cas. "I'm gonna be gone in the morning," said Dean. "You do whatever the fuck you wanna."
"Don't be like that."
"I will be the way I want to, Cas," snapped Dean, "so shut up, okay? Go to sleep."
Cas obeyed him, pulling the blanket tightly over him and deciding he wouldn't sleep too heavily. He was going to talk to Dean about this and they were going to find a better way to deal with their current situation than this mess. He held on to the hurt he felt, promising himself to explain to Dean why he thought the deal was a good idea.
He just needed rest… he needed to shut his eyes right now. He also needed some time. He and Dean needed time…
Never mind that they'd had plenty of it all this while. Never mind that things had been crumbling between them ever since Henriksen had set foot into their home that day.
~o~
5:17 AM
Miles away, Sam lay awake in his bed, not sleeping a wink through the night. He had gone and identified Jess's body; she was heavily burnt, face just barely recognisable. He had sat in the hospital for hours, calling Jess's family and talking to the police and firefighters and everything had just been dizzying and confusing.
His hands itched. He wanted to talk to Dean. But he knew Dean was in enough trouble already and he couldn't do that. So he curled up, the pain in his back especially excruciating now, and he lay there for hours and hours to come.
~o~
8:23 AM
When Cas woke up, he felt like he'd been hit by a truck. His head was pounding against his skull, his mouth was dry, and there was a sound from somewhere, a loud sound, and he couldn't figure out what it was. His stomach rolled. He swallowed and screwed his eyes shut. He couldn't remember a thing. He didn't know where he was or what he was doing. He just… what was he doing naked and laid out on what felt like a blanket?
Someone was talking loudly beside him. Sounded like the TV. What was Dean doing, watching TV? Didn't he have to go to the diner?
"D—" the word got stuck in Cas's throat and he didn't know what to do. He felt like there was no strength anywhere in him. Like he couldn't move or think or…
"The video, which was identified as featuring Castiel and Dean Winchester, was texted to our reporter's phone this morning from an unknown number. Castiel Winchester, well-known author of the 'Werewolf' novel series was found, earlier this month…"
Cas barely listened to the rest of his description as his eyes shot open. What?
"Their pictures were launched last night in another attempt to find them after the confirmation of Jessica Moore's death. Moore was linked to Sam Winchester…" Cas sat up with all the strength he could muster, realising the sound was coming from the TV. What was going on? Where was Dean? And when did Jessica die?
"Dean?"
He looked around, blinking sleep out of his eyes, chest seizing up when Dean's bags were nowhere to be found. Hadn't he met Dean last night? They'd had sex, and Dean had cuddled against Cas. And then that… that hand job. They were fighting… for a bit. Dean had poured out whiskey for him. Cas couldn't remember all of it. What happened after? Why wasn't Dean here?
The sound of his own name caused him to look back abruptly at the TV. "Castiel, after being cleared of charges relating to the murders, was working in association with the FBI," the anchor said, unperturbed in her crisp suit. "He was found missing from Tyngsborough last night, where Moore was found dead. We still await confirmation on whether it was a murder. In the meantime, we present to you highly-censored footage of the Winchesters, which played an integral role for the FBI to confirm their unbroken contact with each other."
Were they… they wouldn't, right? Would they actually show that video? Had Dean shot it? How had it gotten there to the news people?
In the meantime, the anchor gathered her papers and the small box beside her widened to fit the TV. Cas couldn't help but watch in horror as a video came on.
It was him and Dean… from last night, the sounds removed and images blurred, but paused briefly at the end to zoom in on his and Dean's faces. Then it started again, still severely censored. It was just a small clip on repeat and even as he saw it, Cas felt warmth rush up his cheeks. Had… had Dean sent that in? Or had Cas done it, seeing as he couldn't remember a thing from last night after the sex?
That was when he noticed the post-it on the TV. He got up from his place, legs shaky as he went to retrieve it. It had Dean's handwriting on it.
Payback for the whoring. Go back to being the FBI's bitch.
Bile rose up Cas's throat. Fumbling for his phone, he found it and dialled Dean's number. Dean should have had some reason for this… he wouldn't just do this. He wouldn't.
Dean's phone was switched off. Cas tried over and over again, hoping and hoping because it couldn't be. But he had no luck. Dean had left. Dean had really done this.
Cas put his phone away and checked his watch. It had been seven hours since he remembered getting here. And… assuming Dean had left soon after Cas fell asleep, Dean was either reaching Tyngsborough or had reached it already.
A variety of emotions overwhelmed him, bludgeoning him all at once. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know why Dean had done this. He loved Dean; had never meant to harm him, he had just wanted to meet Dean. To see him after so long.
Payback for the whoring. Go back to being the FBI's bitch.
He crushed the post-it note and threw it away.
Why?
Cas buried his face in his hands, as he was unable to contain his tears anymore.