CHAPTER 8
There is no one righteous, not even one;
there is no one who understands;
there is no one who seeks God.
All have turned away,
they have together become worthless;
there is no one who does good, not even one.
Their throats are open graves;
their tongues practice deceit.
The poison of vipers is on their lips.
Their mouths are full of cursing and bitterness.
Their feet are swift to shed blood;
ruin and misery mark their ways,
and the way of peace they do not know.
There is no fear of God before their eyes.
Romans, 3:11-18
THEN
Lawrence, Kansas, June 2013
Sometimes, Sam and Dean had a guy's night out. They usually went out with Bobby, after work on Fridays, ending the night at the Roadhouse with burgers and lots of beer. It was more like a way to keep in touch with their old friend, the closest to a father figure they'd had after Dad left.
Dean decided to invite Cas along on an impulse. The guy was always working, or at the library, or… well, lately he spent a lot of time with Dean. So it was Friday, Dean knew Missouri had given Cas the night off, and he knew Cas would spend it in his room reading, all by himself, if he didn't take him with them. So he did.
Bobby raised an eyebrow when Cas introduced himself formally as always, but shook his hand and rolled his eyes, saying "Grab a beer, son, and don't call me sir; I'm Bobby to you." He looked at Dean speculatively when Cas sat beside Dean, with his chair maybe a little too close to Dean's, but didn't say anything, shoving a plate of French fries in front of them instead.
Soon, Bobby was chatting animatedly with the three of them, calling them all 'idjits' and saying 'balls' and 'shit' to everyone, Cas included. Sam started talking about his plans for the future and which city would be ideal for him to start his career, while Bobby nodded and smiled like a proud father. They were doing their best to include Cas in the conversation, asking him his opinion about everything, even after Cas admitted shyly that his knowledge about most cities was very limited, since he had rarely left his hometown all his life.
And suddenly, seeing Sam and Bobby talking to Cas like they were old friends, Dean had an epiphany, and it hit him like a punch: Cas fit in their lives like a glove, he kinda belonged there, and Dean could genuinely see himself with him, as in, with him. Meaning, Cas was boyfriend material, and although the thought made Dean feel like a teenager girl, it was true, so he would give it all the thought he wanted, dammit.
Dean had had a fling here and there with guys, but had only dated girls. Not because of any convention or hetero normative rule, no. It had just happened that all the guys Dean had been interested in were in the closet, and Lawrence was a small town, and Dean hated to hide who he was. If he was with a guy, he had no problem admitting it to everyone. It just had never happened, Dean and any guy usually didn't last enough to call it a relationship.
But Cas wasn't any guy.
Cas was an awkward dude, a nerdy guy with rusty people skills who, surprisingly, made Dean fell incredibly at ease and good. Things with him were simple, their friendship had flowed naturally from the start – or, from the day Cas saved him from the truck. Cas was uncomplicated, brutally honest and looked at Dean like he was someone worthy of being paid attention to, with his big blue eyes always curious and interested in everything Dean did or said.
Dean realized he wanted more of that.
He was almost feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush, but the truth was that he wanted to hold Cas close, kiss him silly just because he could, take him for walks, movies, DVD nights. Cas was different from everyone Dean had ever met, and he wanted to keep him around, preferably for a very, very long time.
"You really like him, don't you?" Sam murmured.
Dean blinked, looking at his brother and realizing he had zoned out. "Leave me alone, bitch," he mumbled with a hint of a smile on his face. Bobby and Cas were engrossed in a conversation about old films.
"You were totally looking at him and making doe eyes, jerk," Sam said with a low voice.
"Stop. I do not make doe eyes at anyone."
"Not when he is looking," Sam went on. "But when you see he's not paying attention, man, you totally do. And it's cute."
"Stop it, Sammy," Dean hissed, "I don't even know if he… if he's into…"
"Into guys? I have no idea. Into you? Hell yes."
Dean's eyes widened. "Really?"
"Come on, don't say you never noticed his complete disregard for personal space with you. And he looks at you as if he thinks you hung the moon, man."
"Shut up, you want him to hear?" Dean hissed again, nudging Sam's elbow.
But when Cas turned to him asking about Clint Eastwood, Dean noticed how close he was, and how he seemed to absorb Dean's every word when he explained all about westerns. Dean started to think that hey, this could really happen. He would invite Cas out next Friday, maybe to the Roadhouse again, just the two of them, and see where things would go from there. Like a date, only not too obvious.
He went home with a spring in his step, thinking that he would take a chance and maybe, if he were lucky, Cas would like him back. Maybe, his nerdy, adorable friend would be more than just a friend.
NOW
Lawrence, Kansas, August, 2013
When John left the garage, it was almost morning, a Tuesday like any other. There was nothing different in it; the sun was still shining and people were still going to work as they always did. But Castiel's heart was heavy, and he said goodbye to Dean with a sense of foreboding he couldn't get rid of.
He spent the whole day like he was in a bad dream, something poking at the back of his mind, telling him he had to stop Dean no matter what; if only hecould. He had never felt so useless, so weak and impotent before, and as an angel, he wasn't used to that. It wasn't his place to question Death's decision, but to make him almost human, to strip him of most of his Grace only because he had questioned an order seemed too much punishment to such a little crime.
Only, this is no little crime, Castiel. The worst thing and angel can do is to disobey, you're starting to think as a human.
And these insolent thoughts of yours are exactly why you're in this current situation.
But he was human, wasn't he? He felt love, pain, pleasure and now fear, like humans did. He was almost as human as any of them; almost as helpless and weak in the face of things he couldn't control. Just like any human, he had no control over the future; he had no say in what would happen and how. It drove him crazy.
At night, when Dean knocked at his door, when they were alone after the diner was closed, he clung to the man he loved with a desperation he had never felt before. They didn't talk about it at first, but Castiel could feel Dean's apprehension in every gesture. Dean was scared too, and Castiel felt once again the weight of his uselessness, the despair of knowing that there was nothing he could do to stop Dean from making a big mistake. He could only hope that he would be the one to steal the file, that someone up in Heaven would hear his prayers and give him at least that: the ability to be the one to break the Commandment, sparing Dean.
"You're quiet," Dean said, after a while.
"I'm always quiet, Dean."
"You're worried, aren't you? About tomorrow?"
Castiel only nodded.
"Look, Cas, if you don't wanna come, then don't. I'd feel better if I knew you were safe at home anyway."
"Just because I sweep floors, like you said, it doesn't mean I will be completely useless," Castiel replied icily. "I'm going with you."
"Hey," Dean smiled awkwardly, apologetically. "I didn't mean it like that. I didn't call you useless."
Castiel sighed. "I know. But as you said yourself, I'm a grown man, and I can make my own decisions. I'm coming with you and John."
"Okay, okay. Just… Shit, Cas, I don't wanna get you in trouble."
"Dean, let's make something clear: I completely disagree with you about this. I think this is one of the worst ideas in the world, and so many things can go wrong I can't even start thinking about them. This is illegal, not to mention dangerous, stupid and-"
"Cas, I know, alright? I know you don't like it, but it's for Sam, man. It's the only way."
"You didn't let me finish," Castiel said. "There's nothing about this that I like; on the contrary. I would give anything to change your mind, but I can see you already have your mind set about this. This is wrong, Dean, you and your father are wrong and I really hope none of us regrets this. But if you're going, I'm going. And I'm not changing my mind."
"Shit. Okay, then, I guess I'm not the only one who's stubborn, huh?"
"Sam is going to be very angry at you when he finds out."
"He can hate me all he wants, but I'm not gonna sit and watch his future go down the drain. Besides, he never stays angry at me for too long."
Castiel shook his head, dismayed. "Alright," he simply said.
"Let's not talk about this anymore, okay?" Dean asked, putting his hand on the nape of Castiel's neck and pulling him closer. "C'mere."
Dean kissed him hungrily, holding him tighter than he usually did, and that alone was proof that he was not alright. Castiel lost himself in his embrace, in the feeling of his mouth and his kiss, trying to ground himself in the here and now, not in the 'what ifs' of tomorrow.
Later, when Dean turned Castiel's blood to liquid fire with his hands and the angel felt his insides turning to molten lava with pleasure, all he could think was that he was not ready to lose Dean. There was a sense of dread surrounding him, and the mere thought that he could lose this, could lose Dean to some scheme he had started by defying Death in the first place, made his eyes brim with unshed tears without him even noticing it. He whimpered, hiding his face in the crook of his neck to force the tears back.
"Hey, Cas…" Dean whispered, their mouths almost touching, "It's alright. It's gonna be alright."
Castiel didn't answer, couldn't answer. He was overwhelmed with fear, with the realization that Dean's life was very much finite, and if he broke another Commandment, it would be even closer to its end. Instead, he kissed Dean harder, praying that this wonderful, perfect man would not be harmed.
If he only knew.
THEN
Lawrence, Kansas, December, 1994.
It was Dean's job to take care of Sammy and Mom, because even though he was eight when Dad left, he was the oldest man in the family.
Of course, no one had told him that. But with Mom always depressed and Sam still a baby, what else could he do? At eight, he already split his time between school, homework, and Sammy.
Not that Mom didn't take care of them; she did, and there was always food on their table and a kiss before bed. But she had started to work as a waitress, and because the salary was barely enough, she frequently took extra shifts, leaving Dean to take care of Sam. Of course, sometimes her friends helped, but Dean insisted in taking care of his baby brother by himself. It was his baby brother, his responsibility and no one else's.
At thirteen, Dean's grades at school were abysmal, but he always managed to pass the year. He didn't have many friends, because all that mattered to him was his family. He helped at Missouri's diner and at Bobby's garage sometimes, and they always gave him a few bucks. He saved every cent he could to help Mom. Life wasn't perfect, and he couldn't say he had much of a childhood. But it was good.
Only, sometimes, all of this wasn't enough.
The first time he shoplifted, it was at a bakery. He grabbed a piece of chocolate cake and ran. It was Mom's birthday and he wanted to surprise her. The smile she gave him and the affection in her eyes made it all worthwhile, so he never regretted it.
Then there was the other week, when Dean had gone to Wal-Mart and bought the cheapest winter jacket he'd found. Sammy was getting big and his clothes barely fit him anymore. The jacket was twenty-six bucks and Dean only had fifteen. Even so, he went to the cashier and gave her the jacket and the money.
"Twenty six dollars, please," the girl with red hair and bored expression said.
"I – I only have fifteen," he mumbled.
"Then you can't take the coat," she said, glaring at him.
"Please, miss, it's for my little brother…"
She looked at him coldly. "Look, there are people waiting behind you. If you don't have the money for the coat, put it back and go."
"Please…" he hated begging; hated it with everything he had. But it was for Sammy, so he would beg if he had to. "The winter's too cold, he'll catch pneumonia if he-"
"Look, boy, I can't help you, okay?" the cashier rolled her eyes and said loudly, "If I let you walk away with it I can be fired or they will deduct it from my salary."
Humiliation tinted Dean's cheeks red. He looked at the people behind him, and every single person in line was looking at him with consternation.
"O – Okay then, I'll just – "
"Wait a minute!" said an old lady next to him.
"I'm sorry, I'm already leaving, please don't-" he was ready to beg her not to call the cops.
"Here, take this, darling," she gave him twenty dollars. "Take the coat to your little brother."
Dean shook his head. He wouldn't accept charity. "I can't, m'am, thank you, b - but…" he said, looking at the floor, embarrassment making him stutter.
"Young man, I was poor when I was young. I know how it feels to be cold and hungry."
Dean's head jerked up. "I'm not hungry. My mother takes good care of us." He felt the need to defend Mary; she did her best and it wasn't her fault that she was sick because her bedroom didn't have a proper heater.
"Even so, darling. Take the money, please," she said, smiling kindly. (")I insist. Your little brother needs it."
Dean thought for a minute. What was more important? To keep his brother warm or to keep his pride?
In the end, he took the money and told his mother he had bought the coat in a clearance sale.
NOW
Lawrence, Kansas, August, 2013
"I still have a bad feeling about this." Castiel said, as he put the black mask over his face. "I feel like a criminal."
"That's because we are criminals, Cas," Dean snapped, irritated. But seeing Castiel's mask askew, he grimaced. "C'mere," he said softly this time, adjusting the mask on Castiel's face. "C'mon, Dad and Charlie will arrive any minute now."
They were in the back of the police station, across the street, behind a wall of an old vacant lot. The night was calm, a Wednesday night like any other, and the streets were usually empty at one thirty in the morning. Tonight was no exception, and Castiel breathed through the mask, watching Dean wearily.
The plan was simple, but there were so many variables that could turn it into a disaster, that Castiel didn't even want to contemplate them right now, if ever.
John and Charlie would wait until two in the morning and then go to the police station. They would simulate a couple's fight to attract the attention of the policeman on the front desk. Then, while the man tried to calm a nervous John, Charlie would go to the restroom and put a lighter near the smoke detector. When the fire alarm sounded and everyone started leaving the building, Dean and Castiel would enter through the back door to steal Sam's file. Charlie would sneak up to the central computer and delete any records about Sam's arrest, as well as any mention of him she could find. Simple, and probably fast, unless the police were better prepared than Dean and John thought.
Dean was nervous, but he had even laughed at Castiel's worries, saying that nothing would go wrong and they would be in and out in the blink of an eye.
Castiel wished he could tell Dean about the threat that loomed over him. But unless Dean saw a demon with his own eyes, like John had, – and Castiel prayed this would never happen – he wouldn't believe.
"You anxious?" Dean asked, looking at Castiel worriedly. "I still think you should've stayed, Cas. What if you get hurt?"
"We've talked about this. What if you get hurt, Dean? Don't you see that the worry goes both ways?"
Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure, but I told you… this is not the first time I've done something like this."
"Trespassing and stealing food or clothes is not the same thing as invading a police station," Castiel said coldly. "I told you, this is not the first time for me. I am going with you."
"Alright, alright Daredevil. I get it. I just can't imagine you doing anything like that; you look like an eighteen year old nerd." Dean looked at his watch nervously. "Almost two. I hope Charlie and Dad don't mess up."
They waited and waited, and these final minutes seeming endless to the angel. Dean rubbed his hands to ward off the cold, but Castiel was so apprehensive that he was sweating. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush, because his body wasn't used to this.
The fire alarm sounded. Dean looked at Castiel expectantly. "Okay, we count five minutes and go." He looked at his watch, pressing the timer. "Get ready," he whispered.
Dean didn't take his eyes from his watch, counting the minutes, and Castiel's heart was beating so fast he swore Dean could hear it.
The moment he dreaded so much finally came. "It's time. C'mon!" Dean pulled at Castiel's arm.
"Dean, no!"Castiel clung to his arm in a desperate attempt to stop him. "You can't go in there!"
"Now you tell me?" Dean looked at him with disbelief. "Man, if you chickened out I'll go alone"
"It's not that!" Castiel was desperately looking for something that would convince Dean to stay. "I can go alone! You stay here and watch the entrance."
"No way!" Dean snapped. "And while we're chatting here, Charlie and Dad are in there doing their part. Cut the crap and let's do ours!"
Then Dean was already running and crossing the street to the police station's back window. Castiel followed him, alarms sounding in his head louder than the fire alarm itself. No, no, no, no, no, he kept thinking, unable to do anything to stop Dean from getting inside the building.
The window was a little higher than they'd hoped, but Dean jumped with ease and clung to the windowsill, pushing his body inside. Castiel was right behind him, looking around frantically as if that would show him a way to stop this madness. But there was nothing.
The window led to a small storage room, with a lot of paper, a few empty boxes, dusty and old computers and even older desks. Dean was already opening the door, only a crack so he could see when the policemen left, as Castiel got inside.
"Careful!" Castiel said, touching Dean's shoulder.
"Come on, come on!" Dean whispered. "Corridor's empty."
With their backs glued to the wall, they crept down the empty hall to the main archive's room. It was big and poorly lit, with racks and racks of file folders meticulously aligned.
"Sam's must be the most recent one," Castiel whispered, going to the shelf closer to the door.
"I'll take a look over there," Dean said, pointing to another shelf at the end of the room, labeled with a W.
It took some time, because the police department was in dire need of an archivist and the fact that they were wearing gloves made everything more complicated.
After a few minutes, Dean's cell phone vibrated. He looked at the message. "Charlie deleted Sam's records. She's already outside with Dad; they're getting the hell outta here."
Castiel was getting anxious. In no time, the policemen would realize it had been a false alarm, or worse, that it had been on purpose. They would look for intruders and they would find them, all dressed in black, faces covered, stealing the police's secret archives. Oh God.
"Shit, shit, come on, where's Winchester, Winchester…" Dean muttered. "Crap, who put these files here? There's not a single name with a W!" he hissed.
But finally, finally, Castiel pulled a manila envelope out of the last drawer, with 'Samuel Winchester' written on it.
"I found it!" he said, triumphantly, turning to Dean.
"Lemme see," Dean grabbed the envelope from Castiel's hands and opened it, spreading its contents over a nearby table."
"We don't have time for this!" Castiel urged.
"Wait, I need to see if everything's here!"
"Dean! We need to leave!"
"Alright, alright!" Dean started to put the papers in the envelope again, but Castiel just grabbed everything and put it under his arm. The last thing he needed now was for Dean to walk out of the building carrying the file. He idly thought that, if Dean walked out without the product of the theft they had just committed, technically he wouldn't have stolen anything. It was a very small hope to cling to, but it was all he had.
"Okay. Let's get out of here." Dean walked to the door and put his hand on the doorknob.
Then, all the lights went out.