Chapter Twenty-Three

The road stretched out before them, soaked in the last rays of sunlight. If Dean had been into all that poetic crap, it would have seemed almost symbolic – the sun was setting on his old life, and tomorrow morning would bring a new beginning. There were also romantic overtones of riding off into the sunset with his husband, but Dean decided not to mention it.

"Does it feel strange?" Cas asked. "Knowing that you won't be hunting anymore?"

"A little," Dean admitted. "What about you?"

"Not really. Since I met you, my life has been in a constant state of flux. I was a hammer of Heaven, then I was a rebel. I was commander of a garrison, then I tried to be the Sherriff of Heaven, then I tried to become God. I became Emmanuel, then I went crazy, then I was brainwashed, then I was human, then I was an angel again, and then I lost my Grace for good. I used to be cold and emotionless, and then I fell for a human – in every sense of the word. I lost faith in my Father and then he officiated our wedding." Cas shrugged. "I was a hunter, and now I'm not. The changes don't really faze me anymore."

"But does this feel like a change for the better?"

Cas was quiet for a moment. "It feels like this might be the last one. The final upheaval. We'll wake up tomorrow and our lives will be different, but every morning after that will be the same. We'll be two humans living like anyone else, unremarkable, unnoticed. Normal."

"Is… that a good thing?"

Cas exhaled and the corners of his lips curled up. "I cannot imagine anything better. After everything we have been through, some peace and quiet will be more than welcome."

"You won't get bored?"

Cas blinked at him. "I will be with you."

"That's enough?"

Fingers twined with his around the steering wheel and Cas squeezed gently. "Always has been."

Dean's fears melted away. It had felt like the right decision to make, but he had needed to be sure that this was what Cas wanted. "Okay."

They arrived home an hour later. Dean pulled his bag out of the trunk and reflected that the only reason he would need to pack a bag like this in the future would be if they went on a holiday.

"The Grand Canyon," he said.

Cas gave him a questioning look.

"If we ever feel the urge to hit the road again. We've criss-crossed all over this country, but we've never done the tourist thing. We could visit the Grand Canyon, or the beaches in Miami, or the theme parks in California, or the national monuments in Washington, or the Niagara Falls… Anywhere we wanted to go. Just for the hell of it."

Cas smiled. "I would like that."

There was a bounce in Dean's step as they approached the front door. "It's going to be a good life, isn't it?"

Cas caught his hand and spun him around. "Yes," he said in a deep, sultry voice. "It is." He pulled Dean in for a kiss and Dean melted into him with a happy sigh.

Cas walked him backwards and Dean didn't mind being led; he was too busy trying to muss up his husband's hair and map out the inside of his mouth with his tongue at the same time.

His back hit the door and Dean was ready for the action to heat up – he wasn't expecting the door to swing open. They stumbled and almost fell but Cas caught Dean and the doorframe in time.

They looked at each other in surprise.

"Shouldn't that have been locked?" Cas asked.

Dean tried to remember if he had locked the door behind him on his way out. He flushed slightly as he realised he hadn't. "I, uh, was in a hurry."

Castiel's body language shifted to wary and defensive. He didn't draw a weapon, but he was cautious as he stepped past Dean into the house. "Stay here."

Dean followed him. He might be the walking wounded, but at least he remembered how to fight now. He would be there to back Cas up if he needed it.

They checked every room. There was no one there and nothing was missing.

"Good neighbourhood," Dean reflected. There wasn't much worth stealing in this house, but thieves would have at least made off with the flat screen television.

"We vetted this town very carefully. It has one of the lowest crime rates in the country. Even so-"

"I'll remember to lock the door in the future," Dean said. "I feel like we should celebrate the fact that we still have a T.V."

Cas raised an eyebrow at him. "Netflix and 'chill'?"

Dean laughed, remembering when he had taught Cas the true meaning of the phrase. "Exactly. You pick something, I'll grab us a couple of beers."

They ended up snuggled on the couch watching an old cowboy movie.

As Clint Eastwood rode out onto the screen, a memory sparked in Dean's mind. "Hey. I remember this one!"

"It's one of your favourites," Cas said.

"Yeah. I think I could almost recite every line."

"Mm, you showed me once. But this time your lips will be far too busy."

Cas turned his face towards him but Dean cheekily lifted his beer bottle and took a swig.

"Oh, two can play at that game Mr. Winchester."

They stole kisses between hasty sips of beer, and the movie faded into the background.

ooOOoo

Dean felt groggy and disoriented. A headache pounded at the inside of his skull, his tongue felt thick and fuzzy in his mouth and his eyes were practically glued together. He peeled them open with an effort and the sitting room spun nauseatingly around him. He shifted uncoordinated limbs and fell off the couch.

Hungover.

He was hungover. It didn't happen to him often because he had developed quite a high alcohol tolerance, so he had almost forgotten what it felt like, but this had to be a hangover. His whole body ached and the light coming through the windows was painfully bright and even his hair hurt.

He hadn't realised he'd had that much to drink.

He blinked blearily at the two empty beer bottles on the floor next to his head.

He shouldn't have become drunk off two beers.

Not even two. One was Castiel's and one was his. There wasn't enough alcohol in a single bottle to get him drunk, not by a long shot.

He remembered kissing Cas, tasting the beer on his tongue and racing to see which of them could finish first. It had been a draw. As soon as the last drop was drained Cas had set the bottles carefully on the floor and then shoved Dean down onto the cushions and climbed on top of him.

Dean didn't remember anything after that, but he didn't feel like he'd had sex. He was still fully dressed. Maybe he had fallen asleep.

"Cas?" he croaked.

He dragged himself to his feet and stumbled into the bedroom. The room was as he had left it; closet open, Castiel's clothes strewn out on the floor, their wedding photo placed reverently on the nightstand. Cas wasn't there.

He checked the kitchen, but there was no sign of him there either. Maybe he had checked the fridge for ingredients to make breakfast and had found it empty, so had ducked out to go shopping. Except there was no note.

Dean frowned and reached into his pocket for his phone.

Then the realisation hit him.

The fridge had been empty. Except for a full six-pack of beer that he didn't remember buying.

Drugged.

They had been drugged.

He had a vague notion of sitting in a bar, alone and cranky after a stupid argument he'd had with Cas, and feeling a beer being nudged into his hand from a sympathetic stranger. Then nothing.

Drugged.

Exactly like last time.

God, it was even the same brand of beer.

His abductor had been in the house.

Suddenly frantic, Dean yelled out at the top of his lungs. "CAS!"

There was no response and a cold hand of dread seized his heart.

Struggling to breathe, Dean clawed his phone out of his pocket. There was a text message alert from Cas.

Relief flooded him. He sucked in a desperate gulp of air and let it out shakily. It was just his anxiety playing tricks on him again. Cas was fine, he was over-reacting. He probably had just gone shopping; a greasy breakfast was the ideal cure for a hangover and god knows Dean needed it.

He was going to send a reply asking Cas to bring back extra bacon with a side of Tylenol.

But when he opened the message it only contained two words.

His turn.

ooOOoo