Warnings: swearing, language, John Winchester, brief mentions of lack of self-esteem, mention of loss, gunshots, gun violence, blood, serious injuries, depiction of pain

Chapter 24: Apocalypse

"Waking up on a street at the end of the world..."

The words had come as on their own initiative and Kevin was rewriting them again and again, afraid to go further when Sam wallowed beside him on the sofa in their dressing room. He leaned back against the shoulder of the cellist, legs over the armrest, a foot raised on the back, neck twisted at an uncomfortable angle to watch over the shoulder of his friend what he was writing. It was not even the strangest position in which Kevin had seen him.

"Composing?"

"I'm trying." Kevin answered. He felt a bit pathetic, with a single sentence scribbled on the paper, in front of Sam who had already written many songs, some of which he found very touching. He expected a sarcastic comment that didn't come. The drummer had lit a cigarette, the smoke came stinging Kevin's eyes.

"Just a tip, if I may. Even if you think it's crap in the end, don't throw it away."

"You're not telling me to stick to cello?" The young man smiled.

"Nope. I think that if you have something to say, and cello isn't enough, Dean can sing it. Unless you prefer to keep it to yourself." Sam leaned a bit more against Kevin as if seeking a comfortable position for napping. "We still have time."

The cigarette smoke dispersed before reaching the ceiling and Sam breathed harder in the hope of send it up higher.

"Yet it looks like we don't." Kevin said thoughtfully, casting a glance around him. It seemed to him that he had never left the concert halls even if months had passed, and they were again moments away from going back on stage. Kevin felt too tired to be enthusiastic. They had barely acceptable set list made up half of old songs and half of new ones and it made him uncomfortable. He liked things organized to the nearest millimetre and this concert was not. The hall was very small, the tickets probably too expensive for the quality of the show they would perform, the album was only recorded at two thirds and there was on everything an amateurish smell that displeased him greatly. He had taken a pencil and paper just to keep himself busy before going on stage. "Now it's like having a countdown over the head before the release of the album."

Sam nodded. "Crowley likes to put pressure on his artists, and I imagine that he wants to be paid from the advance he made to us with the receipts of this concert."

"It'll be fun if that doesn't work."

"Don't worry for him, Castiel provided him a plan B. The concert is filmed."

Kevin swallowed hard. "You're kidding right?"

"Nope. Charlie saw the cameras move around the hall. We will soon get a pretty DVD with a nice and well smoothed sound."

"Dean's not gonna like it."

"Apparently he told Cas that he agreed."

Kevin let out a laugh between sarcasm and contempt. "He always agrees when it's about Cas, but here... He's playing Russian roulette and he doesn't even know that!"

"Thank goodness he doesn't, otherwise he wouldn't do it and we all agree that if it works, it'll be a damn stunt."

Kevin only half agreed on the concept, but he said nothing, returning to his paper while Sam was dozing off on his shoulder. The concert was the idea of Castiel and they had all agreed to play along, to not reveal anything to Dean apart from what concerned their work. The singer had made a point of honour to not try to guess what surprise they had in store for him and Kevin was still wondering if it was an act of faith or stupidity.

"I don't like it." He mumbled, staring at his paper.

"Me neither." Sam whispered. "But we'll have to pretend."

They had become surprisingly good at this exercise.

"Looks like nothing has changed

Like the apocalypse was just one big storm,

But nothing is like it was before."

##

Dean loved every aspect of Castiel but the fan did much good to his ego and he hadn't seen him enough lately.

"This is going to be spectacular." Chirped the young man, putting on a t-shirt too big for him.

"It's going to be a fucking mess and I can't wait for it to end." Dean grouched. He was leaning on his guitar and trying to tune it to his liking, the strings curiously loosened, which wasn't a good sign.

"Stop bitching!"

"I'll bitch if I please! I wasn't mentally ready to go back on stage so soon. None of us was. You know that I hate to submit a work not finished."

Castiel withdrew his guitar from his hands and leaned down to kiss him on the lips. "It's going to be fine." He promised with a smile. "Believe me, nobody but us will know that this isn't finished."

"Flattery won't work in this area Cas."

The accountant shrugged and moved away from him when Charlie knocked on the door. "The guest band is about to finish."

Dean got up with a nod as she disappeared into the hallway. He kissed Castiel again and this time, the excitement of the scene began to twist his belly.

"Take them away as you do me and everything will be fine." Castiel promised.

Dean had a sarcastic comment on the lips but held it back. They parted in the corridor, one joining the pit, the other heading backstage, where he found his companions. Sam was stretching, trying to tangle the hair of Charlie with the tips of his chopsticks, Kevin seemed uncomfortable. They were all holding hands when the intro music began and they rushed on stage one after the other.

Dean could have sworn that there would be a problem. Over time they all had developed a pretty safe instinct for when a concert would turn out badly. But everything went on curiously well. He appreciated the small halls, the proximity to the public and the silence whenever he began a new song. It was soothing and very rewarding to be listened to, for once. He sought Castiel in the crowd, aware that he had little chance to see him, the spots didn't light beyond the third row and the young man had gone so late into the pit that he had almost no chance of being so close to the stage. That was when he caught a familiar look.

The crowd was slowly rocking to the sound of his voice and the slow pace of Sam's drum as they performed a cover of a popular song. What caught his eye was the perfectly still man to the right of the second row, briefly lit by a blue spot. He knew the song by heart, his hands played almost automatically and it was the only thing that saved him from sputtering or hitting a wrong note. He closed his eyes for a second, wondering if he was surprised or worried to see his father in one of his concerts? John was sitting in the seating area for disabled. Arms crossed, his eyes fixed on Dean. From time to time he looked up at Sam, half hidden by his drums, then returned his gaze to his eldest son. The singer got up with a smile and turned to his brother, without ceasing to play a few notes that Sam followed mechanically to leave no blank in the show. The drummer raised eyebrows by way of interrogation. They were both wearing earplugs and headphones which would have prevented them to talk aloud anyway. Dean enunciated much as he could.

"Dad is here."

Sam frowned, not sure of having understood, but the expression of his brother's face was pretty clear. He shrugged. "Then be great." He said in an undertone, articulating his best. Dean nodded and went on a little violently to the next song in the set list, causing Sam and Charlie to lose pace. They looked at each other and changed their melodic line by mutual agreement, this time it was Dean who lost the thread and threw them a surprised look.

Someone handed a microphone to Kevin, who rose from his seat with a smile. "We had mentioned a surprise." He said to test the acoustics. The echo of his voice in the hall displeased him but there was not time to change the settings for his personal preferences. Dean smiled and took his mic from its stand, casting a glance at the audience that was clapped hands.

"I don't know what he's talking about, and I have nothing to do with it."

Audience laughter. Above them a large screen lit up, Charlie and Sam left their position and seated themselves on the stage, back half turned to the public to watch the screen. The soundtrack of the recording filled the pseudo silence in the hall.

"Sit down too, it's not interesting enough to stay upright." Sam said after retrieving Kevin's mic. No one in the audience sat and he shrugged.

On the screen was displayed a video made surreptitiously between two recording sessions, by the studio door. Dean looked tired, sitting on the old sofa in the studio with Kevin who was beginning to fall asleep by his side. The beginning of the sentence has been edited out, or maybe it hadn't been recorded.

"That's what is required of you in the end. You make yourself up, you pretend, you do your show to people who will never know how hard it is. And you smile. Cause you have the best job in the world and you don't have the right to be miserable. So you make as if until "as if" has become your only reality. And it's exhausting, you know..."

The video gave way to pictures, most of which were failed attempts of Castiel for the sleeve of the double album, others came from the personal collections of the band, interspersed with more or less long shots of them all, on the road, at home, elsewhere. Dean found himself smiling, forgetting for a second where he was and the role of fearless leader he adopted every time he took the stage.

Then Castiel appeared on the screen and the singer started, which made Kevin smile. He wore a shirt so white it had to result from a default setting of display contrast. He had bags under the eyes and scruffy hair. A strange mix of the dishevelled fan that Dean saw on tour and the very neat and tidy accountant who left him in the morning.

"My name is Castiel. No one here knows me. But I guess a lot of people here tonight can relate to what I have to say."

Dean felt a lump coming in his throat, Charlie slightly nudged him in the shoulder, which he retorted by tousling her hair, swearing under his breath. On the screen, imperturbable, Castiel continued to talk over the murmurs of the crowd.

"It is said that one hides more easily in bright light than anywhere else, that one never sees what is before their eyes. This may be why few people know who are really their idols. This may be why we made this video, so that people here tonight know who is Dean Winchester."

There were screams from the crowd and Dean turned, his microphone in hand while Castiel's image on the screen was fading. "Nobody told me it was my birthday." He joked. Then he turned back to the screen where Kevin had taken the floor. He was standing in the exact spot where Castiel had taken the picture of him that would figure on the acoustic album.

"I had almost dropped music. I had already dropped my academic career and I thought I just wasn't good enough in anything to live my dreams. And then I auditioned for this group. And I'm still there. Many people say that music saved them in one way or another and they are right. Me, music saved me because it gave me a purpose again."

Dean clutched Kevin against himself while Charlie was displayed on the screen. No one was longer talking in the public and Dean was beginning to fear a little what would come next.

"One day I lost everything. In one go. My family, my work, the friends I had… well I guess they weren't really my friends... The music, I didn't care. From that day what I remember is that you had a pink umbrella and you told me "if you need a job we need a bassist". This is the worst story ever. Music saved me when I had asked nothing to it, when it meant nothing to me. The music, that day, it was Dean and his unbearable habit of never abandoning anyone."

Dean turned to the bassist who was hiding behind her bangs and returned her nudge, muttering "idiot" in hushed tones, which made her smile.

"We probably should have never come to this." Said Sam, now in the screen. "We did this by accident because we had nothing else to cling to. And for one reason or another, it worked. I think it's because of Dean. Because he believes in it twice stronger than anyone."

Dean decreed that he wouldn't cry. He promised himself in his heart of hearts, knowing full well that it was a lost cause. He could no longer hear the giggles from the crowd nor their screams. He simply thought to himself that he was pleased that John sees it. Yes, Dean might be a total disappointment, John probably saw him as a mistake. But he was alone with his resentment and misplaced ideals while Dean was now sitting on a stage, surrounded by the people he loved most in the world and who paid him off a hundredfold. It wasn't worth the esteem of his father, but it was still incredibly good.

Castiel came back on the screen. "When I was fifteen, an act of generosity saved my life. When I turned eighteen, it's to music, your music that I clinged, and it hasn't stopped since. And if it can help just one person to smile one more day, it will be worth every effort. No one really sees the musician, because it's the music that counts, but it counts more than anything for some people."

There was a pause, and Sam's voice rose into the loudspeakers, he was probably behind the camera. "Finish your text."

Castiel smiled.

"I know this is not how you were planning it, but you know I'm a control freak. People who love each other give pet names to each other and sometimes I call you my treasure. It is always ironic and it shouldn't be. If there is one thing that everyone here, you included, should know it's that you are, in fact, really the being that I treasure most in the world."

On the screen were displaying other photographs, other short videos while the music continued at the studied pace of Sam's drums and Charlie's bass. When had they had time to record all that without Dean noticing? He barely saw them, didn't hear the noise of the crowd. He was floating in a strange dream, a smile on his lips.

The video gave way to Sam's serious face: "I am Sam, you are my brother and I love you."

Then Kevin: "I'm Kevin Tran and you restored my desire to dream."

Then Charlie: "I'm Charlie Bradbury, and you saved my life."

And Castiel once more: "My name is Castiel Novak, and I love you."

Dean became aware of the roar of the crowd. He stood up, trembling a little, he had lost his microphone and stole Kevin's while Sam was taking back his place on drums to fill a little over the screams of the crowd. The screen turned off.

"Hey, hold on, show again the guy from the last images!" Dean demanded, pointing at the screen. There was a moment of hesitation as the person responsible for the projection started the recording up again. The video paused on a slightly blurred image of a Castiel with a face slightly distorted by the words he was saying. "This man is somewhere in the audience and if he thinks he can get away with it he's really stupid." Dean smiled. "Denounce him and make him come on stage!"

Kevin and Charlie were laughing. There was a sway in the crowd while everyone was looking for Castiel and gradually like a small wave that was forming on the right side of the pit and the young man was half pushed, half carried on stage where Dean held him tight against himself.

"You're stupid, really stupid." He mumbled while continuing to suffocate him in his arms.

"I know." The other smiled.

The crowd continued to scream, Charlie had picked up her bass and Dean looked around for his father. It was a good thing that John was here tonight, the night Castiel had agreed to make their relationship public. The night everyone could finally see how happy and realized they were despite everything.

"What made you change you mind?"

"I'll tell you later." Castiel answered.

At this moment, some spots lit the crowd and Dean caught sight of his father a split second. As well as the firearm he was holding in his hand, and his gaze focused on them.

Castiel found himself thrown to the ground. The detonations briefly drowning out the music, the blood pounding in his temples and the cries of the crowd. He involuntarily counted two of them, but there maybe has been more. He didn't even realize that it was a gunshot. He grabbed the sleeve of Dean reflexively and dragged him in his fall.

Sam didn't hear the detonation, he was hitting his cymbals, but from the corner of his eye he saw Dean violently shoving Castiel and sat up in his seat to see better. Charlie stepped back and there was a second gunshot. How did he know it were gunshots? Dean had also fallen to the ground. The third detonation caused a cry of terror in the crowd and a panic reaction. He felt his vision blur, his throat dry up suddenly and he felt frozen inside.

Gunshots?

Who had shot?

He hadn't realized he had risen, stumbling on the microphone connections, tripping over the cables that roamed the stage.

"Dean!" Castiel screamed after pushing the body of the singer who was lying with arms outstretched on the floor of the stage. "DEAN!"

Sam fell to his knees, expecting other gunshots but only heard the noise of the crowd and a horrible Larsen effect because of the mics remained open. There had to be light but Sam saw nothing.

"Sam!" Kevin called. The young man had seen Charlie falling and had rushed toward her as if to protect her. She was curled up around her bass in an uncomfortable position and sobbing, moaning in pain. He took her in his arms, she pulled away from him, screaming. He had a hand full of blood and when he caught her terrified gaze he saw that she was pale and sweaty. "SAM!" He shouted again. He had no idea what was going on around him, he could have been injured that he wouldn't have realized, and Charlie was still bleeding, the blood beginning to drip along the sleeve of his jacket which hid the wound.

"DEAN!" Sam didn't know whether it was him or Castiel screaming. Dean's eyes were open, he was short breath and his face was tense and pale. Sam leaned over his brother, just enough to see the blood stain that was gradually soaking his white shirt. He felt himself panic and looked up at Castiel who was trembling.

"What's goin' on?" Whispered the young man. Sam shook his head, unable to touch his brother, unable to do anything but breathe too fast to try to suppress the panic.

Dean was in pain, every breath was like a violent stab in the ribs, it radiated him in the belly, in the spine, in the arm. His vision was blurry, his head spinning. "Oh God." He thought. "I'm gonna die here."

He tried to grab the hand of Castiel, of his brother, anything, he was shaking, opening his mouth in search of an inhalation that he was too much in pain to really take.

Charlie felt herself been rolled on the side and moaned in pain. Screaming was too painful. She was still clutching her bass against herself by reflex. "I think it's the shoulder Char… Oh Lord please make it be the shoulder!" Kevin said. He didn't hear the noise of the crowd, barely felt the footsteps of the first-aid workers who were rushing on stage to evacuate them.

"Are you okay?" Asked someone in orange vest. Kevin nodded.

"She's bleeding!" He said flatly.

Charlie felt herself been taken by the legs and torso and placed bluntly on a stretcher. She no longer had her bass and uttered a strangled cry of panic, seeking the hand of her friend. "Kevin!"

Through the fog of fear and pain, she saw him get up and follow suit the first aiders.

Someone pushed firmly Castiel and leaned over Dean, turning a light on his eyes. "Can you hear me?"

Dean nodded with a grimace of pain. "Hurt" He grumbled. He was also laid on a stretcher, someone asked him questions but his head was too heavy for him to answer, he wanted to throw up.

Castiel felt curiously calm. Sam was losing his grip before him and it was necessary that somebody does something because everyone was busy evacuating the public and the injured. He stood up, took his friend by the shoulders and shook him violently.

"Get a grip!" He yelled several times. "GET A GRIP!" But Sam seemed impenetrable, lost in his own moment of panic. Castiel raised his hand and slapped him as hard as he could. The surprise brought the younger Winchester on earth, he touched his cheek one second, blinking.

"Dean..."

"Ambulance." Castiel replied, pointing to the stretcher that was retreating. He took his friend by the sleeve and followed the first-aid workers who were still asking questions to Dean and farther to Charlie accompanied by Kevin. "His name is Dean Winchester, 32, blood group O negative, no medical history, non-smoker, no alcohol in the last… what day is it... not for a while." He reeled off after catching the attention of a first aider.

"You are..?"

"His partner. And his serologic tests are negative for all known STIs, AIDS included."

The first aider nodded. "Any family history?"

Castiel looked up at Sam who shook his head.

Someone was calling their names further, Castiel took time to realize that it was Bobby. "What the hell happened?" Yelled the manager.

"Gunshots. Dean is... He's breathing and Charlie..."

"She's gonna make it." Replied Kevin who was coming. His clothes and hands were stained with blood. "They cut her jacket. They say she certainly took a bullet in the shoulder."

"Who shot? Who inserted a fucking gun in a fucking concert?" Bobby shouted again. He had approached to make sure of the condition of Dean and in his fog of panic and pain, the singer still found a way to grab the hand of Castiel who had climbed after him in the ambulance.

"Dad." He grumbled. "It's my father who shot."