Warning: This chapter contains some DubCon. Proceed with caution if it's iffy for you.
"Hey Sammy." Dean bit into his lip, hard enough to make it bleed. He had reassured his siblings they didn't do anything wrong, and then Leah whisked them away, his promise to call when he knew something dying in his throat. He sat in the waiting room, feeling pale, before remembering his promise to be home for dinner.
"What happened? Did something go wrong?" Dean found himself absurdly grateful Sam could tell something was wrong from a few words.
"No, no the visit went great. My dad, he started hemorrhaging. I figured I should call- I'll probably be spending the night here."
"We're on our way. We'll bring dinner. Hey, Cas, grab the Tupperware."
"You guys don't have to. I know Cas needs to be with Rebel right now and stuff."
"It's in the- here, Cas you talk to him."
"Hello, Dean."
"You guys don't need to come!"
"Do you want us there?"
"Yeah, of course. Leah just kinda took the kids and I have no idea what's going on with my dad. There was a lot of blood and they took him to surgery. I'm goin' out of my mind here, Cas."
"Then we're coming."
"What about Rebel?"
"My son is still small enough to be fairly portable. I took care of getting a lawyer this morning and I can spend time with Rebel in a waiting room almost as easily as I can here. We're coming, Dean."
"Thank you."
"We'll see you soon."
Dean sat. He tried not to worry. Everything had been going so well. Too well, for it to be his life. He had just decided to accept it. He took a moment to be grateful to Ellen and Bobby who were not only keeping a roof over his head, but were gracious enough to understand his situation and allow him to take off on short notice.
His mind clicked things into place with a sudden clarity, no doubt brought on by stress. He would have to ask Sam to be sure, but he realized he had heard Ellen's name before. He didn't know a lot about her past- had never thought to ask about what she had done before she opened the Roadhouse. All he knew was she had left a stressful job in the public sector and never looked back. He got the feeling the Ellen he worked for was also Sam's mystery contact.
Sam and Cas showed up not long after and sat on either side of him. They forced him to eat, but otherwise remained quiet. Cas silently handed him Rebel when he reached for the baby, and Rebel's grip around his fingers kept him grounded. By the time two hours had passed, Dean thought he was going to go out of his mind with worry.
"I think I'm going to hire the PI," Cas said.
"What?" Dean turned to look at Cas. He was grateful that someone had broken the thick silence in the room but it was the single strangest opener he could think of at the moment.
"Henricksen. I think I'm going to hire him. Turner agreed to take my case pro bono and maybe Henricksen can dig something up. Help my case."
"Sounds good. I'll get his info from Ellen when we get home." Dean was glad Sam seemed to be able to keep up with everything.
"What's the name of the bar Ellen owns anyway?" Dean figured now was as good a time as any to get things cleared up.
"Does it matter?"
"Just think I might know her."
'It's called the Roadhouse."
"I knew it."
"You know the Roadhouse?" Sam sounded very confused by that.
"Yeah. I work there."
"Oh, God. How did we not put that together sooner?"
"Well, if you would ever actually talk about the past."
"Hey, now." The banter was friendly despite treading into potentially sensitive waters. The waiting room door creaked open, and a rush fell over the room. Dean didn't want to look up, in case it was her.
"Mr. Winchester," Dr. Morgan began.
"Don't. Please don't."
"We did everything we could. The damage was too extensive."
"He was getting better. He was going to quit drinking."
"I'm so sorry for your loss."
Dean could tell her words were genuine. That perhaps she had actually grown to care for his father. He couldn't find the words to express it. Cas sensed his distress and placed a hand on his harm. Dean found himself placing a hand over it, needing the solace of human contact.
"What do we need to do?" Sam asked.
"He'll be moved to the morgue shortly. You'll need to claim his body within twenty-four hours or the state will give him a pauper's burial."
"Right, so uh," Dean tried to find words.
"Go home, Mr. Winchester. Let your friends take care of you and help make arrangements. And for the love of God, try to get some sleep."Dean nodded. Cas handed him a tissue.
"I'm fine."
"You're crying." Dean allowed his hand to drift to his face and was surprised to feel wetness on his cheeks. He took the tissue.
"Thank you for trying."
"It's my job."
Dean forced a smile. Dr. Morgan slipped out of the room and Dean stood. He felt like he was leaving part of himself there. Sam and Cas walked on either side of him as they left the hospital and he tried not to make it obvious he was leaning into Sam a little.
"I'll come back in the morning with you to claim the body," Sam offered.
"Thanks. Can you drive? I need to call Leah."
"It's late."
"They need to know. Leah can decide whether or not to wait 'til morning to tell them."
"Ok. Keys?" Dean tossed him the keys and dialed. Cas went to his own car.
"Hey, Leah. Yeah, I know what time it is." Dean paused, trying to keep his voice from breaking. "Listen, it's important. My dad didn't make it." There was a pause Sam knew was Leah offering condolences. "Tell the kids in the morning or whenever you're ready. Just make sure they'll get the chance to say goodbye. Good night. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
Dean hung up the phone and stared at his hands. God, he wasn't a crier. He was Dean freakin' Winchester. He didn't cry when his mother left. He didn't cry the night he came home to find John half-dead in a puddle of vomit and two sick kids, crying, one with an exploded diaper. He didn't cry the first time he left school to bail his father out of the drunk tank or the day social services came. He didn't cry when he became a legal adult at sixteen and had all the responsibility in the world placed on him. He wasn't going to cry now because the man who made his life Hell was dead. He stared out the window, watching gas stations and box stores fly by in a haze of neon. Sam pulled into a residential area and parked.
"Let it out," he said.
"What?"
"Let it out. I can tell there's something you're holding back, so scream, cry, hit the dash. Do whatever it is you need to do; I won't tell Cas. Just let it out."
Dean felt the tears well up and over despite himself. He knew he would hate himself once he got a few hours of sleep in him. Right now though, somehow in the car, with no one but Sam it simply didn't matter. A sob escaped his chest and as soon as he lost that first bit of restraint he lost it all.
It felt like every time he should have cried since he was fourteen- every time he was helpless, betrayed, hurt - started to be felt. He looked at Sam desperately through racking sobs, trying to communicate he was powerless to stop it.
Sam got the message, and pulled Dean tight against him. Little by little grief began to slip into some of the tears. Not grief for the loss of the man John was, but the fact that Dean would never know if he could be the man he was going to try to be- if he really was going to turn over a new leaf- and for his siblings who would never know the man he had been before Mary left their family in shambles. He wasn't angry anymore. He had let the anger go in that social worker's office when he was sixteen.
He, for reasons he couldn't place thought of the psychology class he had taken his last year of high school. The five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance popped back into his head for the first time since he had taken the test. He had come to the private conclusion he had been mourning John for a very long time. He was at depression. Suddenly, he jerked his head up from where it had been buried in Sam's shoulder.
"I have to call Henry."
"Alright?"
"He's my older brother. I don't know if I ever mentioned him. He's two years older and he was gone as soon as he turned eighteen. The kids got taken not long after. He doesn't know anything that's happened. I have to bring him up on four years of Winchester family drama. He's gonna blame me, want to know why I wasn't driving Dad, why I don't have the kids back yet. God, I've failed."
"Slow down. It's late."
"I can't. I mean it's my fault. It was my job and I always failed at it. That's what he said." Dean felt another round of tears coming on and they felt a little hysterical at this point.
"Dean, this is a seriously shit set of circumstances."
"Exactly. You know that. I know that. What am I supposed to do? I don't know the first thing about planning funerals. I don't think I've ever been to one. And Henry will be a mess, and God, Sam I've known you three months and you've been a better brother to me than he was in sixteen."
"I've done it. Planned a funeral. Well, helped, technically. It's not too hard. Did your Dad have a church?"
"No, but he still had the burial plots him and Mom bought. And there's this church on third Mom took us to when we were little."
"Alright so we'll have the service there. And I assume you'll do the eulogy." Sam took in Dean's red, swollen eyes. He realized Dean was still clutching his forearm. "We can talk about it tomorrow. After we claim the body."
"Ok." Dean seemed willing to go along with whatever Sam said. It also seemed like he had finally cried himself out.
"You ready to go home?" Sam asked the question carefully, not wanting to push, but also knowing it was more early morning now than late night, and several hours sleep would probably do Dean good.
"Yeah. Yeah, I think so."
"It's ok if you aren't."
"We can't stay here forever. I can't hide forever."
"Home then."
"And responsibilities tomorrow?"
"And responsibilities tomorrow," Sam confirmed.
Sam drove, the past few days finally catching up to him. He could feel the exhaustion creeping into his eyelids and was relieved when they pulled into Dean's usual parking space. Dean was rest his head on the glass of the passenger window, obviously drifting. Sam roused him and got him into the apartment. Cas was sitting up, waiting.
"Hey. Just making sure you guys got home before I turned in."
"Thanks."
Cas was far too sleepy to question what had taken so long. He hadn't slept in more than twenty-four hours. He just nodded and shuffled off to his room, plopping face first onto his bed.
"You ok?" Sam asked.
"Not really. I just need some sleep. I'll be able to think in the morning." Dean stalked off to bed, closing his door.
"Right." Sam went into the kitchen, surprised when he saw Gabriel sitting at the table.
"Hey."
"Hey. What are you doing here?" Sam bent down to quickly kiss him.
"Well, I was invited for dinner, but whenI got here there was an open door to an empty apartment. My dear brother didn't evennotice me sitting here."
"Shit. I'm sorry I didn't call. We kinda ran out of here. Dean's dad died tonight and that was a distraction." Sam sat down heavily next to him.
"It's fine. Just be glad I'm the one that found the apartment open. Sounds like the last thing you guys needed to today was getting robbed." Gabriel stood up from his chair and straddled Sam, kissing down his neck, nipping at his collarbone.
"Yeah, that would've sucked." Sam's hands went to Gabe's slack clad hips.
"I have to go out of town for a couple of days."
"No."
"I'll be back in time for the funeral."
Sam dragged Gabriel's head down to kiss him properly, licking into his mouth.
"No. Stay here."
Gabe let out a low groan. "Here's what's going to happen." He paused for another kiss. "I'm going to make us feel incredible, right here on the kitchen floor, then I'm going to leave because I have a flight in five hours."
Gabriel took Sam's face between his hands and kissed him deeply. Sam happily returned the kiss, burrowing his hands under Gabe's shirt, pulling it out. Gabe got the message and shrugged out of his suit jacket, dropping it to the floor. Sam mouthed at Gabe's neck, sucking at this pulse point. Gabe threw his head back, but his hands worked under the hem of Sam's shirt, hitching it up. Sam pulled back with a quiet pop to allow the shirt to be pulled over his head.
The shirt was tossed to the ground and they resealed their mouths together. Gabe's hands worked up and down Sam's back, feeling the muscles coiled with tension there. His hand wrapped around to the front, running over the ridges of his abdomen and up his pecs, wrapping around his neck, strong shoulders beneath his palms.
As he did that, Sam's hands worked the buttons on his shirt, desperate for skin-to-skin contact. Sam pushed the shirt off Gabe's shoulders and kissed the freckles decorating them. Gabe rocked his hips down, trying to get some friction. The chair creaked dangerously.
"Floor, before we break the chair," Sam grunted out.
Gabe got to his feet and yanked Sam up- leaning up to kiss him, hands tangling in his long hair. Sam groaned when Gabe tugged. They lowered themselves to the floor, and Sam found himself pushing against the smaller man beneath him. Sam rocked against his hip, feeling the other man's clothed erection staining against his zipper.
Sam wrapped his mouth around a nipple as he worked the fly of Gabe's slacks open. Gabe arched up, moaning.
"Shh. They'll hear."
"Just don't stop."
"That can be arranged," Sam whispered as he yanked down the pants and boxers in one go.
Sam shucked his own jeans and moved his lips along Gabe's jaw line. His hips eventually canted down of their own accord and forced him to bite back a moan that threatened to escape him as their dicks brushed.
"Sam, quit teasing. Thought this was supposed to be a quickie."
"Yes, sir." Sam barely managed to keep the smile out of his voice as he began kissing his way down Gabriel's body. He paused right below his belly button and sucked a hickey into the flesh. Gabe's hands tangled in his hair, trying to push him down farther. Sam looked up.
"You want something?" Sam licked a stripe across Gabe's hips.
"Want, need you to suck me."
"Hmm…. Ok."
Sam dipped his head down and pulled the head of Gabe's cock into his mouth, sucking gently. He tongued at the slit, pulling drops on pre-come into his mouth. Gabe groaned quietly above him. Sam pulled his lover's hands back into his hair, and using a trick he had learned a week before, gripped his thumb in his left fist and let Gabe take control of the blowjob.
Gag reflex controlled, Sam groaned when Gabe began thrusting into his mouth in earnest. The vibration went down through his body. He palmed himself through his boxers, desperate for some relief. Gabe gave a few more thrusts before moving his hands, trying to pull Sam off. Sam shook his head, and swallowed Gabe back down resuming his previous rhythm. A few minutes later Sam was swallowing strands of come. He pulled off with a pop, licking Gabe clean.
He stood and hauled Gabe, still unsteady on his feet, and pulled him against his chest. He savored the feel of the smaller man against him, body still quaking with aftershocks. Sam was beyond ready for bed. He would have to get his relief tomorrow morning in the shower or he was going to pass out.
"Your turn, kiddo."
"I'll take care of it. Go get some sleep before you have to be at the airport."
"Sam," Gabe protested.
"It's fine. Go before I change my mind." He was trying to be as gentle as possible.
Gabriel hesitated for a moment before reaching into Sam's boxers and gripping his shaft firmly. He gave a few smiles then an experimental flick of his wrist. Sam's hips jerked forward on instinct and he grabbed onto Gabe's shoulders for support.
"Gabe." Sam tried to be firm, pushing him away.
"Let me. Can't leave you all hard and wanting."
"It's, uh, fine." Gabe gave a few more strokes, and Sam knew the only way to get rid of him was to just let him. Apparently what he wanted didn't matter. "Uh, ok, ok. Just hurry."
Gabe jacked him slowly, rolling his balls between his fingers and teasing him with the edge. Sam stood there, eyes glassy, biting his lips, waiting for his body to do its thing. Eventually Gabe began to pick up speed and Sam let out a low gasp as he spilled over Gabriel's hand. Gabe pulled his hand out of Sam's boxers and wiped the sticky seed off on Sam.
"That was fun. I'll see you around yeah?"
"Yeah." Gabe dressed and slid out the door. Sam stood there, feeling betrayed and used.
A few minutes later he slid into bed, fighting the urge to shower Gabe's scent off him. He forced his mind to clear so he could drift off in relatively peace. He was awoken a little after seven by a pounding on the door.
"Castiel Novak, open up! Police!"
Sam rolled out of bed and opened the door on the instinct. He knew why they were here and he wanted to make them go away. He couldn't even send Cas crawling down the fire escape.
"Morning," Sam grunted out at the two officers clogging his doorway.
"Is Castiel Novak here?"
"What do you want from him?'
"We have a warrant for his arrest."
"Why?"
"We can't share that information at this time."
"I'll go get him." Sam sighed, making no secret of his displeasure.
Sam found Cas in Rebel's room, comforting the baby who had been woken by the knocking.
"Cas, I'm so sorry."
"Turner and I talked about this. That they might arrest me today. I'll be arraigned Monday, probably, plea not guilty."
"We'll call Turner, and Henricksen I guess."
"Thank you, Sam."
"We'll see you soon. We'll take care of Rebel."
"I know. I suppose I should go."
"Yeah. Good luck." Sam wrapped Cas in a brief hug.
"Thank you." Cas put a hand on top of Rebel's head as a way of saying goodbye. He took a deep breath and walked to the living room. Sam watched from the mouth of the hallway and he felt Dean come up behind him.
"Castiel Novak, you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be provided for you."
Sam heard the click of metal handcuff closing and the dull thunk of the door. Rebel started crying and Sam followed Dean to the nursery to settle him and get ready for the day. His life was falling apart.