3:35 PM: incoming text message from: Sam:
where are u? U need to be here...it's ur job. My best man's not gonna bail on me is he?
3:37 PM: outgoing text message to: Sam:
Bobby would have my ass if I bailed. Princess is getting ready–Be there asap
3:38 PM: incoming text message from: Sam:
u invited Cas? ...Have u told him?
3:42 PM: outgoing text message to: Sam:
About?
3:44: incoming text message from: Sam:
Dad.
"I'm ready."
Dean's head swipes to the bathroom door. His eyes go wide, trailing down Castiel's body, decked out in his almost usual attire; everything but the trench coat, and his dress jacket is buttoned. Hair combed neatly now instead of messy, which almost makes Dean a little sad, but he had to do the same with his anyways. The stubble on his cheeks is gone and shaved, exposing a sharp cut jawline. Castiel smiles when he notices Dean is checking him out.
Red hair swoops out from behind him, "He should be all set." A high toned voice says.
"Thanks, Anna." Castiel turns to smile at her, and then places fingers gently on his neck. She swats his hand away.
"Don't touch!" Anna yelps, "You'll smudge the makeup."
Castiel rolls his eyes and shrugs. But Dean has to admit, Anna did a fine ass job. You'd have to be an inch away from Castiel's face to even see a slight discoloration in Castiel's neck. From where Dean's standing, he doesn't even see anything but skin. Makeup really does do wonders. Luckily for Dean, most of his marks are covered by clothes, with only maybe one or two faintly outlined spots that you'd have to be staring directly at to really notice.
Anna had even touched up the edges of Dean's eye from the bar fight. Of course, now the skin is just more of a faint yellow-ish green instead of a purple, but a little coverage never hurt. Thankfully the little cut above Dean's eyebrow blends into the hair, making it almost impossible to notice.
Castiel walks over to him and adjusts Dean's tie, tightening the knot at the top. Dean watches his long, tender fingers brush against his neck a little. His eyes gaze to his lips, crooked to the side and lower lip sucked in, nose scrunched in the slightest bit as his eyes focus to adjust Dean's tie properly.
Needless to say, Castiel looks just as stunning as he usually does. Blue eyes look up to meet his, "Ready?"
Not really.
Dean nods anyways. Castiel gives Dean's chest a little pat, moving then to his sister and giving her a warm hug. She wraps her arms around him, "Bring me home some cake." She jokes. Castiel smiles warmly at her.
"Thanks Anna, for uh—" Dean motions to Castiel's neck and his face.
Anna grins. "Of course, Dean. It was nice meeting you." She smiles, but Dean can still see worry in her eyes. Dean tenses a little.
Castiel nods and smiles at her one more time, and then he's leading Dean out the door. They start down the hallway, Castiel leading frantic and quick. The little smile on his face seems to stay put. He's excited, Dean can tell.
Dean wonders if now is a good time to tell him.
His phone vibrates again.
3:59 PM: incoming text message from: Sam:
?
Dean sucks in a breath,"Hey, Cas—"
"Dean," Castiel turns around and smiles at him, "I'm really happy you invited me to this. I've been interested in formally meeting your brother. And I love cake."
Shit.
Dean feels his throat tighten a little. He tries to open his mouth, but his lips won't seem to tear apart. He rolls the corner of his lips up instead and exchanges Castiel a small smile.
It's not like Dean regrets inviting him. God no. He wants Castiel to get his mind to ease, to let him forget about Michael, about his Mom. Dean wants Cas to have a good time, with him. And Dean wants to have a good time with Cas. God dammit he's going to have a good fucking time with Castiel even if it kills him. He's using his time like these last two days with Castiel are his last two days alive.
So yeah, Dean doesn't regret inviting him in the slightest bit. He just regrets his father.
Okay, all Dean has to do is keep away from John. That's it; simple and easy. Just stay away. Besides, John can't be that stupid to start a scene in the middle of his son's wedding. John will most likely just avoid Dean like he has been for the past few years anyway.
And anyways, as long as Castiel is by Dean's side the whole time, nothing's going to happen to him. And Dean wont let anything happen to him either way.
What are you worrying about, dude? Chill out.
Somehow Dean had managed to leave the hotel without knowledge of ever stepping out, and now he's being led into the hotel parking lot. Dean can see the shiny, sleek exterior of the back of the car sticking out of one of the spaces. At least they'll make an appearance with the car.
"You wanna' drive?"
Dean's head whips to Cas, "What?"
Castiel holds the keys up to Dean, "Here." He grins, "You know the address anyways."
"Dude, hell yes!" Dean yells, snatching the keys from Castiel's hand. Dean eagerly slips into the drivers side, Castiel soon follows into the passengers seat with a grin on his face.
"Okay, so you know how to drive st—"
Dean shift the gears into reverse and steps on the pedal, sending the two of them flying forward, "Oh my god, this is friggin' awesome." Dean says. It reminds him of his childhood in a weird sense, when he still had his mustang. It gives him a sense of comfort, a sense of home-like feeling.
Once Dean pulls out of the lot and begins to drive, Castiel clears his throat, "So how long is the drive?"
"'Bout ten minutes." Dean smirks, hands tightly gripped around the wheel. He glances at Castiel for a second, and he seems blank; staring straight out into the window, eyebrows furrowed slightly and eyes wandering aimlessly.
"Well don't look too excited," Dean jokes, smiling a little at Cas. Cas doesn't look back and Dean's eyes flick from the road to his eyes, "Somethin' on your mind?" He says, reverting his attention back to the window.
"No," Castiel breathes.
Lie.
"So who will I have the pleasure of meeting while I'm there?" Castiel continues. He takes a deep breath, hand smoothing across his face. Dean deepens his stare on the road. Castiel would be #1 in the class of bad acting. Dean wants to ask about it more, but it's not his place to snoop.
"My uncle, Bobby," Dean huffs a laugh, "Don't let him intimidate you. Iron on the outside and fluff on the inside. His wife Karen keeps him in line. My cousins—Meg and Charlie, they'll be there too. Charlie you'll love, Meg maybe not so much."
Castiel tilts his head, "Why not?"
"Sammy and I used to call her Little Demon," Dean smiles, "She was always the one to knock over the vase and blame it on Sammy or I. Fucker always got away with it too."
"Sound's like Gabriel," Castiel huffs with a laugh, "He was always, uh, I don't know—the trickster of the family, you might say."
"Now that sounded like it definitely has a story behind it."
Castiel pauses for a second and shakes his head at his feet. Dean looks over to see him grinning to himself, "One time, a really long time ago, when I was still in junior high—" Castiel pinches the bridge of his nose and laughs, "—Gabriel had woken me up, screaming at me that I was late for school. Of course, the student that I was, would rather be skinned alive than be tardy. Got up, got dressed, ran to school. Turns out it was 6 A.M. on a Saturday. And by the time I got back, Gabe had locked me out of the house. Waking my family up at 6 A.M. by ringing the doorbell was not fun for anyone but Gabriel."
Dean lets out a harmonious laugh, "Oh I would've paid to see that."
"It wasn't funny, Dean." Castiel defends, "It was the middle of November. My nose was growing icicles."
Dean can't help but laugh again, glancing at Castiel with gentle mockery, "Sound's like Gabriel's a little demon too, huh?" He grins to Cas, who's already staring at him with a look that Dean knows is one where Castiel is trying to look annoyed, but also that Castiel can't help the small smile that spreads across his face.
"Little demon," Castiel repeats, "What does that make me, then?"
"A dorky angel," Dean responds quickly, hand finding Castiel's knee and gripping it, rubbing his thumb against clothed skin.
My dorky angel.
Castiel's hand slides over Dean's, a sweaty palm wrapping around boney knuckles. And then Castiel threads fingers in between Dean's, his palm pressed tight against the back of Dean's hand.
Dean's always had a problem with holding hands. Always thought it was un-manly. But no matter how hard he tells himself to pull his hand away, his body refuses to listen. And it just feels safer. Dean knows that he feels safer when Castiel is with him, touching him, because that's how he knows Castiel is safe.
So that's how Dean's hand stays for the remainder of the car ride.
But all Dean can think about the rest of the way is John. What he's going to do when he sees Castiel. What he's going to say. Hell, John can say whatever the fuck he wants to Dean, but if he dares to point one of his fingers at Castiel—Dean's going to lose it.
They finally pull into the long stretch of road, cars lined up on the side and small white tent in the distance. Dean pulls the keys out of the ignition and stares in front of him for a moment.
Castiel is the first to pull his hand away.
But Dean stops him.
"Cas, I need to tell you something." Dean blurts out uncontrollably. It's been in the back of his mind most of the ride, and something had just kicked it to the front without his consent. His throat goes dry.
Castiel loosens the tie on his neck a little, tilting his head up, he looks seriously at Dean. "Y-Yes. Of course, Dean."
Cas has the right to know. He deserves to know. Their hands only come apart when Dean unbuckles his seat belt and adjusts his body towards Cas. He can tell by the look on Castiel's face that he most likely thinks he's in trouble.
Dean finds Castiel's hand again, this time placing his hand on top. "You're not in trouble," Dean smiles slightly, and he sees Castiel's chest deflate as if he had been holding his breath.
"I can sense it's not good news, though."
Dean bites down on his bottom lip and sucks in a breath. He doesn't want to tell him. He doesn't want him to worry. But he has to warn him.
"My-my dad, um, John, he's going to be there." Dean starts, and Castiel's eyebrows raise and urge him to go on. "I just—I need you to stay with me at all times, okay? My dad's not one to mess with, alright? Just stay with me."
Castiel's face changes from nervous to blank. He nods, eyes flicking back and forth between Dean's. Dean can sense he wants to ask why, but he knows that Castiel is smarter than that, which is another reason why Dean can't seem to want to leave.
Dean finally gets the willpower to let go of Castiel's hand and get out of the car, standing and brushing down his suit jacket and pants. Cool air blows across his face and it almost feels like he was sticking his head out of a moving car.
Castiel walks over to him and adjusts Dean's red tie. He's calm. He's content. And it makes Dean feel that much better.
The gravel dirt road towards the big white tent seems to stretch forever. The wedding starts in forty-five minutes, which Dean concludes gives them enough time to maybe meander about for a while and introduce Castiel to family. Then all they have to do is sit through the ceremony at five, and then maybe have a piece of cake and go back to the hotel afterwards.
Castiel nudges Dean's arm. "Worry is an ugly face on you."
Dean glances to Castiel who's smirking knowingly in front of him. "I'm not worried."
"Dean, stop worrying for yourself. Wedding's are supposed to be fun."
I'm not worrying for me, I'm worrying for you.
Dean just doesn't want to see the look on his face, he doesn't want Castiel to feel the same way he did when John lashed out on him. He doesn't want Castiel to feel embarrassed for who he is. He doesn't want Castiel to hear that being gay is wrong from someone else; in fear that it may remind him of his Mother.
Inviting him to this was the worst idea you've ever had, Winchester.
It's silent between them as they both walk towards the tent, the sound of laughter and chatter getting louder. Dean groans in the back of his throat.
"I hate talking to people." Dean murmurs under his breath. Castiel laughs shortly after.
"Just smile and pretend you're listening." Castiel responds quickly.
Dean cringes when he's able to start making out recognizable faces. He exhales sharply, "Is that what you do?"
"Only when I'm talking to you." Castiel hums back to him, flicking his eyebrows up. Dean rolls his eyes.
The front of the tent is guarded by a short-ish and chubby man, only little shorter than Dean, and he's scribbling over a clipboard with sun glasses on his face. Lose the suit and glasses and he'd be right up creepy-biker-guy alley. God knows why he has the sunglasses on considering it's 4:15 P.M. in the beginning of September and the sun isn't even pointed towards him.
Dean leans over next to Castiel's ear, "I didn't know the secret service would be here." He chirps, and Cas nudges his shoulder and smiles brightly at the man in front of them.
"Name." The guard states clearly, head tilting up to Cas, lips pursed. Neither of them can see his eyes, but they somehow beat down on the two of them harshly.
Castiel hesitates to answer. "Oh I'm not—"
"Dean Winchester." Dean interrupts, "You know, The Dean Winchester. Model, brother, Best Man."
The guy's facial expression doesn't change. If any, it goes more serious. "Oh, you mean The Dean Winchester that was supposed to show up two hours ago?"
Castiel chuckles in the back of his throat.
Dean grinds his teeth and takes a step closer to the man. He holds a pointed finger up towards his face, "You know, just because you have sunglasses doesn't mean you—"
"Dean! Cas!" A voice interrupts them. Dean's head snaps to the inside of the tent, and Sam's rushing towards them. Sam grins and places a hand on the guards shoulder, "It's alright, Cliff. Let 'em in."
The guard, which now has a name, nods his head and glances back and forth between Dean and Castiel again, "Let me know if there's any problems with these two," He starts, pinching his glasses and bringing them to the end of his nose, "Especially pretty-boy over here." Cliff nods his head at Dean.
"Yeah—leaving now." Dean sarcastically smiles at him and drags Castiel's arm inside the tent. Sam cuts in between them, hands falling on opposite ends of their shoulders. He's dressed up, black suit with a red tie, just like Dean.
"Glad you guys are finally here. Was starting to worry you two wouldn't make it out of the car," Sam jokes, a sly wink towards Dean. Dean rolls his eyes again. He's been here five minutes and he's already been mocked more than once. Dean doesn't even dare to look over and see how red Castiel's face is.
Sam walks them through the tent, arms still wrapped around their shoulders. Dean takes a moment to wander his eyes around. The tent stretches far on each side, tables draped in white tablecloths lined up in neat rows, each with a white and red rose bouquet in the middle. The tables circle around a clear, neatly trimmed patch of grass in the form of a stage-like area, and in front of that is the long head table.
Dean's eyes gloom across a sea of familiar faces, but he has yet to see John. Sam keeps leading them to a small opening in back of the tent next to the head table, outside again and to where Dean can finally see the sun begin to set over the horizon of long grass field. Each white chair is lined perfectly in rows, surrounding the long white stretch of sheet in the middle aisle. And there's even Goddamn rose petals scattered across the aisle way. The wedding canopy is white too, red flowers vined into the braided sides.
"Oh boy, Sammy, she's got you whipped." Dean pats his brother on the back. Sam huffs at him.
"I think it's lovely, Sam." Castiel corrects, eyes glued to the way the sun stretches across the canopy, giving it an orange glow.
Sam glances with a bitch-face at Dean. "Cas likes it." He states.
"Sam?" A voice comes from behind them, and they all turn around to see a blonde woman's head peeking through the tent entrance, "There's been a problem."
Sam clears his throat, his happy and pleasant demeanor fading into seriousness. "Shit." He mutters under his breath, "'Scuse me, guys."
Dean lets him pass. He watches Sam leave hesitantly, "Probably got the wrong flavor of cake," Dean jokes to Cas. Cas doesn't respond. Dean turns to face Castiel now, his eyes still unable to glance away from the scene in front of him. He's looking at the canopy like it's an unspoken memory.
Dean flicks his eyes from Cas to the canopy, "Cas, you okay?"
"Do you ever wonder what it's like to be under there?" Castiel answers quickly, finally drawing his attention to Dean. The sun accents against his eyes, bringing out the darker blue ring circled around the lighter iris. They're almost a little cold, even though the sun beams down on them.
Dean faces the canopy, the roses decorated on the sides. He doesn't have an answer. Mainly because up until then, he hadn't ever thought about it.
"I imagine it being terrifying." Castiel says again, "Making a promise like that. A promise to stay."
A promise to stay.
Dean doesn't really quite know what Castiel means by that. Castiel looks back to the canopy and pouts his lips a little.
He's keeping something in. Dean knows it now; that there's something Castiel isn't telling him. He's seen it from the moment Castiel had run away in the elevator that one night. Castiel's mixed emotions are confusing, yes, but it's like Dean can almost read them.
"Dean?"
Dean's gaze snaps from Castiel and he turns around, now facing his brother peeking out from the entrance to the tent. Sam motions for him to come.
"Cas, I'll be right back." Dean says, but Castiel doesn't look to him as he's leaving, or even respond.
Dean hastily runs to his brother, "What's the sitch?"
Sam scratches the back of his head, "It's Adam, he can't make it."
"What?" Dean spits, "Great, what pit did he fall into now?"
"Says he's in traffic," Sam gestures quotations with his hands, "We're one groomsmen short now, so—" Sam cuts himself off and his lips form into a mischievous smile.
Cas.
"You want Cas to be the backup?" Dean raises his eyebrows in question.
"Well not just that..." Sam trails off. His eyebrows pyramid at the top, and Dean knows he's about to hear one of his God forsaken crazy ideas, "...I was thinking you could walk him down the isle, instead of Charlie."
Yep, there it is.
"What?!" Dean's eyes widen so much he actually thinks his eyes might pop out of his head. Sam shrugs with a laugh.
Sam smirks at him, "Charlie wanted to walk Gilda anyways! It turns out perfect since Adam was supposed to walk Gilda down!"
"Sam..." Dean shakes his head. He feels strange doing that. It feels nerve racking. In all truth, he's more than happy to walk Castiel down, but he's just nervous for it...and he doesn't know why.
"Dean, please." Sam shakes both Dean's shoulders, "You know you want to, man."
"Fine." Dean groans, clearing his throat, "But he doesn't even have a red tie."
"I can't believe Kevin had an extra red tie. Who the hell brings two ties?"
Castiel glances at him and smiles, wrapping his arm tighter around Dean's. Dean faces the aisle from the tent, looking over the heads of all the people sitting, waiting, for them to come out.
He can't believe he's doing this. He can't believe he's walking Castiel fucking Milton down the Goddamn isle. He can't fucking believe he's not up there already with Sam like he fucking should be. In a traditional wedding, Dean would already be up there, and he wouldn't have to stand where he is with his heart beating so hard against his ribs he thinks Castiel may hear it. But no, Sam had to insist on having all the bridesmaids and groomsmen enter.
So as Dean sits there, eyes shut, Castiel's arm hooked with his, he waits.
Someone hooks their arms around his waist.
"Dean!"
Dean's head turns, and he instantly grins at the smiling redhead, "Hey, Charlie, how you been, sweetheart?" He pulls her into a side hug with his free arm. She looks gorgeous, as usual, pixie cut gelled perfectly into place, red silk dress bringing out the amber in her eyes.
"Forget me," Charlie shakes her head, "Please do tell me about this man that is clutching so tightly around your arm." She giggles. Dean sucks in a breath and looks to Cas, who's looking up at him in question.
"This is Cas," Dean starts, hesitating, "He's uh, he's my-my uh—"
HE'S WHAT, DEAN? WHAT IS HE?
"I'm his date," Castiel picks up on Dean's stutter and sticks his free hand out to shake Charlie's.
Why didn't you say that? Idiot.
Well, maybe he didn't say it because he thinks that Cas is more than a date. Which doesn't make his heart beat any slower at all.
Charlie smiles by rolling her lips in, "Ah." She grins at Dean and then exchanges a wide smile for Cas. It's like Dean and Charlie can read each others minds.
Charlie winks at him. Date, huh?
Dean glares back. Shut up.
Charlie retreats her hand back suddenly when the sound of music begins to play, and she gasps. "Gilda, get over here!"
A girl with blonde hair comes up to him and begins to push him out of the tent. That's when Dean feels like he's going to throw up. He doesn't know why the hell he's so nervous. But then he's struck with the idea that it's all too real. Being here with Cas, being next to him, holding onto him, walking him down the isle, Castiel all dressed up and stunning, here with Dean.
And he feels the pressure easing. Because it's Cas. Because he'd never thought he'd be here next to him, with his dorky little angel, being at Sam's wedding; something that's so important to Dean. He'd never thought he'd get so lucky, never thought he deserved to be so lucky as to just touch Cas. And it's like he's not even nervous anymore; he's happy.
He's so fucking happy. The happiest he'd ever been in so long.
And then he's walking.
And he doesn't even really realize there are people around him. Because all he really see's is Castiel. Castiel's walking forward, eyes set straight in front of him, smallest smile on his face, enough for dimples to just peek through the skin. The sun hits him like a flower petal falling into a puddle; soft, light, the sun soaking into his eyes just as the water would soak into the petal. And his eyes drown in the light, the orange and pink of the sunset against the blue, like crystal crimson.
And it's just beautiful.
It's absolutely, fucking beautiful.
He's not even walking Castiel anymore, Castiel is walking him, leading him next to his brother, where they wait for the other pairs to file out. Castiel has his eyes locked on the pairs walking out, smiling at them as each of them separate to their sides. Dean wants to watch them. He really does. But he can't. He's stuck, super glued tight onto the way the sun compliments how gorgeous Castiel really is.
Dean physically and mentally cannot let him go. He won't let him go. There's the biggest chance in the world that he's going to fuck this up, and he thinks he will, but he's going to try as hard as he fucking can to not. Because no matter how many times he's told himself that he can push through leaving him on Saturday, that feeling gets punched right in the face by the feeling of not being able to say goodbye.
"Dean, pay attention." Castiel whispers, and Dean snaps out of it. He glances around and gasps at the change.
Since when did everyone walk out?
All the groomsmen, the bridesmaids, and even now Ruby is here. And even Dean has to admit, she looks beautiful. The veil is still flipped over her face, but Dean can still see the way she's looking at Sam, the way she's holding his hands so tightly. Yeah, she can be a bitch sometimes, but Dean knows she'll take care of Sam. Well, she better take care of Sam.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, please be seated." The minister raises his hands, and then motions them down. The old man smiles at Ruby and Sam, "We are gathered here today to join Ruby Cortese, and Samuel Winchester in an inseparable bond."
"Love is the reason we are here," The minister says, and Dean sees Sam's grip onto Ruby's hands tighter, "In marriage we say not only "I love you today", but also "I promise to love you for all of our tomorrows"."
Dean hears a rasp behind him. He glances towards Castiel.
He's crying.
And Dean has never wanted to hug someone so tight. Why he's crying, Dean doesn't know; but it doesn't matter. Dean reaches for his hand, entwining their fingers together. Dean clenches his jaw.
Dean whispers so quietly barely himself can hear it. "It's okay, Cas. It's okay." He says, and the smallest smile spreads across his cheeks. He listens to the minister talk, watching Ruby smile under the veil, teeth white and unable to hide behind her lips. He watches her unhinge a hand from Sam's every once in a while to wipe her cheek. She laughs, and Sam laughs back.
"Sam, would you like to say your vows now?" The minister asks him. Sam clears his throat and pulls a paper out of his pocket. He opens it, looking at the crinkled sheet for a second. Sam huffs a laugh, then he puts the worn paper back into his pocket. Ruby looks confused for a moment.
"As the cliché says, you showed up when I was least expecting you. I intend to love you, hold you, and grow very, very old with you." Sam sniffles, and Dean smiles and shakes his head, "I love you for who you are, and that means I don't expect you to think you're perfect. But to me, your imperfections are perfect. I love you enough to never let you go, and that means that I will always be thinking of you, dreaming of you, wanting and needing you constantly, and hoping you feel the same for me."
Dean holds Castiel's hand tighter.
"Sam—" Ruby laughs, "—You're making my make-up smudge, you jerk."
Sam laughs and flips the veil over, thumbs finding reddened cheeks and wiping underneath her eyes. Sam leans closer to her, "It's your turn to make my make-up smudge now."
Ruby shakes her head, "Sam, when I saw you in the supermarket that day, I thought you were like—the hottest guy I had ever seen." The crowd laughs and Sam chuckles a little, "And then you took the last box of Frosted Flakes, and I hated you. But to repay your due's you took me to that crappy coffee-shop right next door to the supermarket, and that was the day I knew that I didn't want to share crappy coffee with anyone else."
Dean holds tighter.
Ruby continues, her voice a little broken, but she's still smiling, "Through it all you have become my best friend, my lover, and my companion. I promise you forever. And I promise endless boxes of Frosted Flakes."
And by the time the rings are settled comfortably onto each of their hands, Dean's sure he may have broken a few bones in Castiel's. But Castiel doesn't pull his hand away. The minister smiles lightly at them both, "In your journey of life together, remind yourselves often of the love that brought you together. Give the highest priority to your love. When challenges come, remember to focus on what is right between you. In this way, you can ride out the storms. And when clouds hide the sun in your lives — remember, even if you lose sight of it for a moment, the sun is always there."
Even tighter, now.
"Sam, Ruby, you have consented together in holy matrimony, have pledged your vows to each other, and have exchanged rings as tokens of your love and commitment to each other. In accordance with the laws of the state of California, and with great joy, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Mr. and Mrs. Winchester."
Sam and Ruby stare at each other, the both of them happily smiling and giggling, waiting for the minister to continue.
The minister nudges Sam on the shoulder, "That's your cue!" He laughs. Sam circles his arms around Ruby's waist, pulling her up into the air, her white strapless dress floating. She wraps delicate hands around the back of his neck, smiles against Sam's lips, and then kisses him. Sam picks her up, one arm hooked strongly under the bends of her knees, and the other wrapped around her back. Ruby squeals a little as Sam carries her down the aisle, leading them back towards the tent.
The sun has almost disappeared now, a sliver of it over the horizon, small wedding lights flicker on and light up the field. Castiel hooks his arm through Dean's again.
"Dean," Castiel says softly and tilts his head, "You're crying."
"Yeah," Dean responds, "I know."
"Sam, as much as I hate chick-flicks and all, I gotta' say, that got me."
Sam scratches the back of his neck and ruffles his hair. Ruby smiles at him and nods, "Thanks, asshole." She jokes with him, a smile spreads across her face that Dean can't help but return.
"You look beautiful," Dean says to them, and then he glances at Ruby, "I guess you are too, Ruby."
She nudges his arm. "Oh ha-ha, funny. So tell me about your friend."
Castiel tightens his grip on Dean's arm, stretching out a free hand to shake Ruby's. Dean smiles, "Oh, this is Cas, he's—"
"So this is who all the fuss is about?"
The four of them draw their attention to the man approaching. Dean chuckles, "Bobby." He grins. Bobby looks weird without his hat, even weirder that he has his hair gelled back against his head. His suit looks a little small for him, and the pink tie he's wearing was obviously not his choice.
"All I've been hearin' all night is "Castiel this, Castiel that" and "who's the pretty boy that Dean's got his hands all over"," Bobby gives Castiel a pat on the back, "Good to finally meet ya', boy. I'm Bobby. I'm sure Dean here's probably told you all about me. Right, Dean?"
Dean shrugs and flashes a nervous smile.
"He mentioned you, yes." Castiel laughs and shakes his hand firmly, "It's great to finally meet you. I'm Castiel Milton."
Dean's stomach settles a little. Everyone's okay with it. And there's no sign of John. And everything is going fucking perfect.
"Karen, c'mere!" Bobby yells, and Karen comes scurrying from across the tent, her pink floral dress fluttering behind her. She smiles wide and bright when she comes over, "This is Castiel." Bobby points out, and Castiel's cheeks flush.
"Oh!" Karen pulls him into a little hug, which Castiel awkwardly doesn't know how to react to, which makes Dean chuckle, "I'm so happy to finally meet you! You're the word around the tent tonight, Castiel."
Castiel blushes again. Dean wraps a hand around his back and pulls him in a little closer. Just then, a little bell rings.
"Dinner is served!" Someone yells, and rolling tables with silver containers come sliding out. Dean's the first one to book it to the tables.
Sam yells behind him, "Dean, there's a bottle of whiskey in the car, would you mind getting it?"
Dean puts down the plate he's holding, "Only 'cause it's your wedding." Dean yells back to him.
He skips out the tent, motioning to Castiel that he would be right back. Castiel smiles and nods at him. Dean can't even remember why he was ever nervous in the first place. If anything, this day had been one of the best of his life.
He looks around for Sam's car, finally finding the silver Cadillac and opening the back door. He looks, but there isn't a bottle in sight. Not in the front seat, not in the trunk.
"Really, Sammy?" Dean grunts, looking in the backseat again.
"Looking for something?"
Dean's lungs catch in his throat.
No.
NO.
He can hear the slur in his voice. The rasp; the broken words. He can hear the anger. And all in one moment, his night falls apart.
Dean slowly shuts the door and turns around. The bottle of whiskey is empty and dangling from his hands, his head lolls to one side, brows furrowed so much Dean can barely see his eyes. His jacket is unbuttoned, tie undone and hanging loose over his shoulders, collar unhinged. And Dean has nothing to say. Because it's like he forgets the whole damn English language.
"What did you think you were doing?" He says, hoarse and piercing, taking a step towards Dean. The moon behind him makes the silhouette around him darker, and Dean can see the shine of the moon through the swinging glass bottle in his hand. Dean can feel the heat begin in his core.
"What exactly did I do, Dad?" Dean spits, chest rising quickly. His feet won't seem to move.
John steps closer, and Dean's feet still won't leave. "Walkin' out with 'em? Holdin' his hand like you two were the ones gettin' married." Dean doesn't say anything. He only watches his Dad step closer to him. John walks unsteady until he's inches away from Dean's face, and Dean can smell the alcohol on his breath.
"You disgust me." John grits through closed teeth.
"Fuck you." Dean spits right back. He stands still, not a muscle moving, although his mind is telling him to flee. A gray aura starts to set around him.
"Dean?"
Dean's head whips around.
Cas.
"Cas, get back to the tent." Dean directs, rough and harsh. Dean can feel the heat begin to rise to his face. He clenches his fists.
"But—"
"Get back to the tent now!"
"No," John pushes Dean aside, stumbling quickly over to Castiel, "So this's him? This the fag you've been screwin'?"
Castiel freezes, and his face distorts into fear, his mouth parting and eyebrows raising. The bottle drops from John's hand and tumbles to the ground as he takes one giant leap towards Castiel, grabbing the collar of his white shirt and raising Castiel off his feet.
"You're the fuckin' pillow biter who turned my son into a fucking faggot? You disgusting sonuvabitch, you listen to me you fuckin'—"
Dean does not hesitate whatsoever to hit him in the back of the head with the empty bottle. It shatters, pieces of glass flying everywhere, and John tips to the ground and groans, his body hitting the dirt with a slam.
Dean steps over John, grabbing Castiel's arms and pulling him towards the Impala, "Cas, let's go. Now." Castiel is frozen, body tense and cold, "Cas! C'mon! Now!"
Castiel stumbles a little, but his legs work, dragging across dirt. Dean can hear John try to stand from the dirt, hands and feet scraping the ground.
Dean turns around for a second to see John stumbling up and spitting onto the ground. "I wish it was you who died in the fire that night! I wish it was you instead of Mary!"
Dean shuts his eyes. His feet begin to hurt mercifully, and suddenly it's as if he's walking across rusty nails. Castiel hooks his arm across his back. The walk to the car is the most excruciating thing he has ever done. All he can hear is his Dad's broken words, on repeat in his head, a broken record playing over and over. This is what he was terrified of. This is what he's always been terrified of. He promised himself, he promised Cas that he would protect him, and he failed.
He failed.
You're the fuckin' pillow biter who turned my son into a fucking faggot?
He failed on the only thing he promised himself that he would do. His hands begin to sting, a sharp burn into the center of his palms.
I wish it was you who died in the fire that night! I wish it was you instead of Mary!
"Cas, take me out of here. Bring me somewhere. I don't care. Just get me out of here."
Castiel buckles him in the passengers seat, and then cups the sides of his face with his hands, his eyes red and glassy. His hands wrap tightly onto the back of his neck, and all Dean can see is the foggy presence of him, a translucent figure.
Castiel whispers quietly, "I know just the place."