Five point six billion versions of
The truth under one roof
Some revelation
Take a bit of this give a
Bit of that
Put it in a blender pull it
Out a hat
There's no going back it's a lie
It's a fact
Has the cat got your tongue
Been too long in the sun
There's dust on your tracks
There's no going back
- "Evil Louie," Deep Purple
The afternoon's trip is easier and, with the trial done and Castiel and Dean finally on the same page, they make a day of the two hour drive from Pontiac to Lake Forest, taking the route up through Chicago. They stop in Edgewater ostensibly so that Castiel can show Dean his old college at Loyola, but mainly so he has an excuse to get Dean a view of Lake Michigan unfolding across the horizon. Madonna della Strada Chapel on campus was a haven for him after Jimmy's death, while he was throwing himself into medical training, and it backs onto the lake. He encourages Dean to turn off the car and roll down the windows so they can linger in the breeze off the water, and can both soak in their respective ideals of tranquility: the bell tower and delicate stonework of the church for Cas, and a vast expanse of open water for Dean. He brushes aside Dean's quip about the little lake in Kansas and his grubby river not really holding a candle to Cas's views. For him, it was always about watching Dean instead of the scenery, anyway.
"I didn't think we were gonna win." Dean's voice is normal enough that it seems like any casual conversation starter, and Dean sits with his arms braced over the Impala's steering wheel, chin on his wrist and a coke from their cooler in the back dangling from his fingers, looking out at the sunlight dancing across the lake. Castiel has taken enough confessions in his life to know one when he hears it, though, the admission of perceived weakness and uncertainty, and he lets it go without false platitudes.
"I knew you were in the right, but I didn't know if the jury would listen." Castiel hesitates a moment, before confessing for himself. "I prayed that they would."
"Still weird, the praying thing." Dean shoots a sideways look at him, but he doesn't seem to be judging. He shrugs, then, pushing it away. Dean will learn to cope with their different views on God. He raises the coke to his lips, letting it rest there a moment, and it's as if he's speaking to the soda next. "This whole thing, the trial. . . it's still fucking with my head."
Dean hasn't been able to figure out up from down, or what to do, and he's only just now on solid ground and it still doesn't feel entirely real. It's easier not looking at Cas for this, because he knows Cas is doing that thing where it's like he's trying to peer into Dean's skull just by staring hard enough. Cas doesn't respond by pointing out how obvious that's been, or by downplaying it, or by trying to make it seem like this thing-fiasco though it was-hit him nearly as hard as it did Dean. Cas just absorbs that information without pushing for more.
"I was gonna give you the choice to stay here, you know." He offers it like an escape, though he knows now what Cas is going to say.
"I had gathered that. I never had any intention of staying, though, if you were giving me the 'choice' to go with you."
Dean shakes his head, amused and relieved and. . . hell, he doesn't even know. This conversation, for as casual as it is framed, carries a lot more weight than either of them will admit to. "Stubborn bastard."
Castiel hums his agreement, folding his arm on the top of the car seat and settling in comfortably, the conversation over with his complete lack of defense to that accusation. He is stubborn. And if Dean had tried to leave him for anything other than Dean's choice, Castiel would have dug his heels in. If Dean wanted to go, Castiel wouldn't force his company on him. But Cas knows where he wants to be.
The silence that falls is companionable and refreshing after days of tension, all the forced communication between them and others. There have been too many words and explanations and confessions, too much testimony and prying.
Seeing Dean go quiet and still, lulled and comforted by staring out at the water, has Cas wishing he still had money, wishing he could find some way to give Dean some small bit of this peace, a little waterfront property of their own somewhere here, or in South Dakota, or on the beach in California. He doesn't care where. Someday, if he can pull it off, that's become part of his dream; marrying Dean and raising a family together somewhere that Dean can escape to the water to think, idly fish, or to watch storms roll in.
Not yet. It's too soon, too raw, and he chastises himself for letting the daydream get too far away from him, growing more elaborate, uncomfortable with planning Dean's future out for him even in his fantasies.
He still wants that house on the water.
Probably not anywhere here, though, after all.
His family's property is lakefront, after a fashion: they own a decent stretch of the waterfront, but the house is set so far back from it that all you can see are the trees from the front, where the picture of them as children was snapped, and where he presided over Emmanuel's wedding.
"You didn't tell me you lived at the X-Mansion." Dean whistles as he squints through the windshield at the sprawling estate, and he rolls his eyes when Cas stares at him blankly, not getting the reference. "Movies. Comics. We're going to work on this."
"I'd like that." Castiel agrees, only partly because he's convinced Dean is speaking a different language than him sometimes and mostly because Dean is discussing their future, too, making plans for it however mundane, and that warms him in ways he couldn't necessarily describe even if he were inclined to.
"We're under-dressed, aren't we?"
"We are." Cas is trying not to sulk in the face of this place, as the gate rolls open for them. "It won't matter what we're wearing, though, we are here to face my brothers' disapproval. I'm tempted to dig in the trunk and steal a pair of your work jeans and a band shirt."
"You rebel."
"No, that would be Gabriel. He is the rebel. Balthazar is the lecher. Lucifer is morally depraved. Uriel . . ." there's no way he can crash-course Dean for every potential member of his family and their mates and wives and nieces and nephews who may arrive.
"Huh." Dean is frowning at him, fingers drumming on the steering wheel, and he seems as reluctant to get out of the car as Cas is. "Tips for getting through this without punching anyone?"
"Don't punch anyone." Castiel answers immediately, tonelessly, earning him a raised eyebrow and a smirk.
"Smartass. Does that apply to you, too?"
"I am going to try not to punch anyone."
"Because the last time you met these guys, there was punching." It isn't a question: Dean heard the testimony and Gabriel's vague account.
"It was well deserved." And there's Cas's mask again, the stoic demeanor undercut this time by a still simmering anger, even after all these years. Emmanuel he went to both looking for and dreading his forgiveness. Amelia and Claire he approached as if he was coming home. Chuck he just needed to meet, to come to grips with in some way. Cas expects no reconciliation here, just more of the family politics that he escaped years ago. But it's too late to back out now.
Emmanuel's boring little fuel efficient car pulls up behind them, his twin circling the car to open the door for his mate, Daphne's hair pinned up and her dress prim and demure, but for some reason this time it doesn't make Dean want to tear his hair out, seeing them casually walking around as a picture-perfect pair. But he wasn't jealous on Cas's behalf, of how easily their lives seemed to come together. Not really. He and Cas are both screwed up, and their relationship is a little abnormal, and they don't meet anyone's ideals, and they should own that.
"I can get my own damn door." Dean warns Cas, throwing it open with the tell-tale squeak he refuses to repair because he long ago accepted, on behalf of his car, that sometimes the supposed flaws are what adds character.
"I never thought you couldn't. . .?" Castiel's confusion is genuine and endearing, like he has no idea what prompted that random assertion. Dean might as well be declaring he can tie his own shoes, as far as Cas is concerned.
Emmanuel looks good, Dean has to admit, in a very tidy kind of way. Stepping up beside his brother to rest a hand on his shoulder and draw his attention, it's like he's inviting the comparisons again, and Dean's got no illusions that Cas's family will think Cas is the shabbier twin in contrast, but screw them anyway. The twins don't seem to need to decide on it, they just take off towards the door as soon as they're side-by-side; they were once two parts of a whole and it's like they can't help being a unit, though they've fallen out of sync now without Jimmy to keep them together.
"Why are we here, Emmanuel?" Whether or not Dean took him on this trip, Castiel wouldn't be here, at this house, if Emmanuel hadn't set this up.
"Because you can't choose your family, Castiel. And we need to fix this." Emmanuel smiles at Castiel, still a little uncertain but hopeful. "I know things ended poorly with them, but. . ."
"'Poorly.'" Dean snorts at Castiel's droll delivery as he repeats back the word, though it doesn't win him any twitch of amusement from his brother. How long has the guy had to get by without anyone appreciating his grim sense of humor? Daphne certainly doesn't appreciate Dean's snort of amusement, but he flashes her a grin and shrugs as the twins carry on unaware.
"Castiel, I didn't bring you here to start a fight again..."
"I have no intention of starting any fights." The emphasis there even in Castiel's deadpan tone. Cas won't start any fights, but he's not promising to play nicely. Dean's starting to think he may not be the best influence on him. The guy has moved on from the years of letting Zachariah and his ilk treat him like crap while curbing his temper, and it's pretty clear why. Okay, so maybe that's an influence Dean doesn't mind, bad or not.
With a significant look at Emmanuel, Cas dares him to argue that, hoping still that he'll hold him to his guilt. After a moment Emmanuel sighs softly and falls back, holding his arm out for Daphne to take as Dean sidles up beside Cas with his hands in his pockets and his eyebrow raised. There's not enough time for more discussion-the door swings open, and they're ushered inside.
Once, while they were tangled together in bed with Dean idly trying to pull information out of Cas about his past, Cas finally gave in by labeling his upbringing in Illinois as 'pretentious.' Now that he's inside the old family home, Dean's more likely to go with 'snooty' and maybe even 'stuffy.'
The place is massive and over the top in every way. No item of furniture they pass looks like it has ever even considered the idea of comfort being part of its function. An austere Beta with her hair drawn neatly into a bun and a trim black business suit as her uniform leads them into a room that has gold gilding on the fireplace, on the walls, and on the bulky frames around paintings of angels in battle, and celestial might. Because hell, why limit the whole angel fetish to naming all your kids after them, when you can blow millions of dollars on old paintings, too, right? And this is just one room.
Finger food and drinks are placed on a white marble table at the center of the room, appetizers before the real dinner, but there's nowhere to sit, no real function to the room outside of being ridiculously ostentatious.
"Dude, you grew up in a frikkin' museum." Dean remarks out of the corner of his mouth to Cas, but not quietly enough.
"It's not all this formal, just the main floor." Emmanuel reassures Dean, but the guy combed his hair flat and put on a suit jacket to come back to what's supposed to be the family home, and he was already pretty dressed up. That's a sign if anything is. "This is where Daphne and I were married, though."
"Joy." Dean mutters to himself, and the door is opening again as Castiel's half-brothers begin arriving. Dean's pretty sure he can ID them all based upon the one family photo of them all as kids, but he's going to get introduced anyway. After all, he's half of the side-show that brings them together today. He's coming to understand this isn't dinner, it's a dinner party, and god he needs a drink.
The fact of the rest of the family's arrival in the room after Cas and Emmanuel are shown in, though, makes Dean uneasy. It's like they were in a holding tank, like Cas's brothers and their families were all elsewhere beforehand, talking about them and planning, and that's unsettling.
Inias is the first to reach them, the closest to the twins in age. He has a longer, narrower face than Cas and Emmanuel, his blue eyes less vibrant, but Dean's willing to bet still a sign that the Allen family patriarch had a thing for them when he started shopping Omegas. Or maybe he just paid up more cash to genetically make sure his custom-ordered kids matched that requirement. Inias's wife, a blonde Beta named Hester, looks down her nose at Dean from the first and doesn't endear herself to Castiel with it as they're introduced, Cas's explanation of Dean as his 'boyfriend' getting a faint sneer before she's bustling her husband away. Inias goes down as seemingly okay enough but gutless in Dean's book.
Daphne drifts off to follow Hester, probably to gather wherever wives are supposed to gather, and Castiel watches the blonde with his eyes narrowed until his attention is commandeered again as he's accosted into a hug with back slapping by a blond man with a glass already in his hand, and as far as Dean's concerned an accent that sounds like he fell out of a BBC Special. "Past time you showed up." Castiel blinks in surprise, but hugs him back in turn after a moment.
"Balthazar? You were supposed to be overseas."
"Oh, yes, and you were 'supposed' to return letters and phone calls. Funny how neither of us has done what we ought." There's a teasing sort of mirth in Balthazar's voice, but when he pulls back from the hug there's a warning in his eyes and his voice lowers. "Careful, Cassie."
Castiel tips his head to the side in confusion, brow furrowing and eyes narrowing in suspicion, but Balthazar doesn't give him time to completely blow whatever subtlety his warning carried. Cas still is about as subtle as a brick to the head and if anyone wondered whether Balthazar was passing notes, they weren't going to be wondering for long if he kept it up. "And I suppose this is the brother-in-law I've heard so much about."
"Boyfriend. Dean Winchester." The correction is instinctive, but Dean's mind is elsewhere as they shake hands.
Is that a warning, too, that they've been talking about him? Dean's always been a little paranoid, and this family doesn't help that, particularly not when a moment later, Lucifer steps into the room with a beautiful blonde on his arm and immediately sets eyes on Dean, lip curling faintly. It interrupts his comeback to Balthazar, who falls in next to him against the wall, crossing his feet at the ankle and taking another pull of his drink. "Wonderful seeing family get along, isn't it? I don't think I've seen Lucifer and Michael agree on anything like this in years."
Definitely a warning, then. Thankfully, Castiel is stiltedly engaging Uriel and hasn't noticed yet how his oldest brothers are there, now, waiting for their chance to apparently ambush him somehow. Dean glances at Balthazar, and nods slightly. "Thanks."
"Don't mention it. No, really don't mention it. I wouldn't be here if Gabriel hadn't asked me to. I get along with my family far better from the other side of the ocean." Balthazar has used up all the time he can conceivably have while pretending this is just a casual introduction. Amusingly enough, they don't have any real introduction beyond that. Balthazar is there for Castiel, to have his brother's back; Dean's just incidental to that.
That works for Dean this time, though.
Uriel seems taken aback by Dean's gall as he steps right back up to Cas's side, but it's Cas who's surprised when Dean links arms with him like they're going out to the prom or trying to fit in among the filthy rich. Dean's got a plan, though, and it has nothing to do with being the Omega hanging on a rich Alpha's arm (god he needs to scrub this from his memory later) and everything to do with tugging him away and trying to get him warning beforehand.
"Stealing your brother for a minute." He apologizes to Uriel.
"I think you've stolen him for longer than that," Uriel remarks, his voice deep and judgmental and Castiel falters, brows drawing together, and stares at Uriel. There's a flash of hurt there, that Dean doesn't miss: in his accounting for how his brothers would fall, Castiel must have thought Uriel cared enough not to side against him in whatever divide is forming. If Cas is looking for allies in the family drama, though, Dean's pretty damn sure he's going to come up short. Dean barely resists the urge to flip Uriel off.
"What are you doing?" Cas finally asks Dean as he lets himself be moved away.
"We're playing along. Temporarily." Dean pauses, and turns them to block Castiel's view, locking eyes with him for a moment. There's no time. "No, that's bullshit. I'm trying to restrain both of our ability to throw a punch, no matter how 'deserved.'"
"I assume you're talking about me." Castiel jerks in Dean's grip at Lucifer's voice behind him, and would you look at that, the being sickeningly couple-y in public crap comes in handy pretty quickly. Castiel didn't think Lucifer would be here, his own squabble with Michael too long-running to ignore, but he wasn't exaggerating his urge to murder his older brother for making Dean's time with Alastair possible, and Dean's pretty sure that's a bad idea. Not because the world wouldn't be better off rid of Lucifer, but because Cas shouldn't make a habit of murdering scumbags for Dean. So being able to restrain Cas's kneejerk reaction to hearing Lucifer with him counts as a win. "I hear congratulations are in order. You managed to evade going to prison."
Around them, Castiel's family seems to be doing the reunion thing, mingling. Nine brothers, their wives and some older children makes for a decent sized crowd, but Dean's sure most of the ears in this place are turned towards them and it's creepy. He squeezes Castiel's arm, fingers pressing into him in warning, and he makes sure he's got Castiel's eyes on him. Whatever Lucifer and Michael have planned, if Castiel does something stupid he's just going to undercut himself. He waits until Castiel nods in terse and grudging acceptance before dropping his arm, and the two of them turn at once.
Lucifer is back to his tacky white suits again, as if he's compelled to stand out from the black suit jackets his brothers seem to favor, even Balthazar who threw his on negligently over a v-neck. Together, he and the blonde Omega beside him are beacons of light, signal fires among the dour attire of the rest of them, her in a virginal white dress, her shoulders bare and hair loose and flowing. It's not Lucifer's smug face, or the admittedly attractive body of the woman at his side that Dean notices, though.
It's the simple white ribbon choker adorning her neck, a single jewel dangling from it like a tag on her collar, symbolic of it at least. For her part, she seems proud to be there, hanging on his arm, showed off like a prize possession. Mingling around the room, the others have brought their wives. . . but Lucifer brought an Omega, and made it clear that she's a pet, because he knew Dean would be there.
There's no way in hell they're getting through this dinner, is there?
"Lucifer." Dean's pretty sure the temperature in the room just dropped ten degrees with the coldness of Castiel's greeting. "I assume you're here as legal counsel." Searching the room, Castiel's eyes land on Michael nearby, blue eyes locking, both of them assessing. Castiel's jaw flexes angrily as he puts his attention back on Lucifer afterwards. "Presumably about me."
Lucifer's smile widens, and it's answer enough. "We should have dinner as a family, before business."
"If you're intending to disinherit me, and any children I may have, I'd prefer we get it out of the way now." Cas's voice carries for its intensity though he hasn't raised it at all, reverberating through the room.
Lucifer doesn't get the chance to give whatever snide answer is on his lips and push this into a fight. Fashionably late as he pushes the double doors into the room open without waiting to be let in, Gabriel is probably the only person in the room less dressed for the occasion than Dean and Castiel. A Hawaiian shirt beneath a linen jacket, he grins as eyes turn towards him, reveling in being the temporary surprise guest and center of attention, the original run-away from their family, in whose footsteps Castiel later tread. "Sorry I'm a few years late. Got caught in traffic."
Nearest to the door, it's Michael who voices the opinion of Gabriel's 'audience,' disapproving and paternal, though there are only a few years between them. "Are the theatrics necessary?"
"Yeah, well, you know me Mikey. Couldn't ever resist an entrance line." He winks cheekily at his eldest brother, pops Raphael on the arm as he cruises past him, and beelines for Dean and Castiel, slinging an arm around them just as much for show-a small, irritating, and completely welcome pain in the ass as far as Dean is concerned. "There you two crazy kids are. Feels like just yesterday I saw you. Or day before. How's things? Congrats on the court thing, couldn't happen to more deserving assholes. Well, maybe it could." As if he's just noticing Lucifer for the first time, he raises his head and flashes his elder brother a grin without moving away from Cas and Dean. "Oh, hey bro!"
"Gabriel. This is unexpected," Lucifer seems surprised and a bit taken aback, and undeniably wary. Gabriel is more of a loose cannon than Castiel—Castiel is hot-headed, but steady in his way. Gabriel you can't predict, and he was the one to throw the first punch last time, even if it nearly had him hospitalized for it. Gabriel, Dean and Cas together on one side of a tense situation is a recipe for disaster.
"I love reunions." Gabriel's grin is somehow hard edges and threatening and yet completely cheerful, his words are obviously a complete lie and meant to be seen as such. His eyes slide away from his brother to his brother's companion, gaze following the ribbon around her neck before he offers her a lecherous wink. "Lilith, still letting this asshole lead you around by the neck, huh? When're you going to ditch the leash and join the party?"
"Gabriel." Michael has joined them, and Dean spares the guy a once-over. Michael Allen is the clean-cut, strong-jawed, portrait of what their father was apparently trying to recreate with the triplets. Where Emmanuel and Castiel are mirrors of each other, Lucifer and Michael-the only other two full siblings in a room full of half-siblings-are opposites in many ways. Funny, then, how Dean's pretty sure he hates both of them. "This is neither the time nor place for this behavior."
"It's a party, Mike. And a reunion with Cassie here, right? And hell, I've been hanging out with these two the past few days. . ." He squeezes Dean and Castiel "And figured I'd check back in on them before they left town again . . ." He turns his head, catching Dean's eye, and flashes him another completely false grin. "Speaking of catching up, brotherly affection, and welcoming you to the family… you got the present Lucy sent this morning, right? Some accountant. . ."
Alastair's accountant. Lucifer provided that witness for Crowley. He probably even drummed up clients of Alastair's so well protected legally that they were willing to testify. Lucifer made that happen, orchestrating the attempt to discredit Dean entirely all without lifting a finger himself. On the failure of that plan, he came here, and tore the rug out from under Dean and Castiel with Cas's family. His need to preserve his interpretation of their father's desires for the pride of the family, or spite, or just pure maliciousness. . .
Gabriel broke into Lucifer's files, giving Charlie and Ash the backdoor access they needed to his digital records, and probably stole physical copies for himself. Him breaking the law and turning on his family probably made their court victory possible, information filtering from Lucifer's files to Charlie to Sam to Henriksen's cross-examination. Gabe got wind of whatever 'business' Lucifer and Michael have involving Cas tonight, and sent Balthazar to warn them until he could show up himself.
Castiel's rapidly put all that information together for himself, and he beats Dean to the conclusion by moments, everything snapping into place. His head turns towards Lucifer again, the rest of him eerily still, and in the general silence of a room where no one is pretending not to be watching any more his accusation carries. "You son of a bitch."
(Yeah, Dean's definitely had an influence on Cas.)
Lucifer doesn't even bother denying it. Hell, he probably thinks he's done nothing wrong. After all, it's all for the good of the family.
"Castiel, have dinner with us and we will sit down afterwards and discuss. . ."
"Pretty sure he has nothing he wants to 'discuss' with you, man." And there goes that mouthy Omega again, speaking for his Alpha, and ain't that just a shock to Michael who stares at Dean like he issued a challenge. They're through here. The longer they stay, the more trouble Cas is going to get himself into. Dean's pretty sure at this point if Cas threw a punch, they'd be in jail again. If Cas signs anything here, they're up a creek. This entire dinner party is just fancy trimming on an ambush, even if most of the participants aren't entirely aware of it.
"Guess we're not staying for dinner." Gabriel mourns dramatically, and he bends backwards to look past Dean and Cas across the room. "Hey, Balthazar. Grab a couple bottles to go, wouldja?"
"Red, white, or hard liquor?" Balthazar seems entirely unaffected by the unfolding drama, looking over the available unopened drinks on the table in the center of the room as if he's trying to decide what vintage goes best with a walk-out.
"Castiel. . ."
For all the non-confrontational vibe he puts off, it's Emmanuel who approaches Cas first, flanking Cas on his other side, a hand on his shoulder, turned to look at his brother and putting himself between Cas and his eldest brothers. Maybe he's supposed to be peacekeeper, rein his twin in. Maybe he's there to give his support. Whatever his purpose, Castiel's attention is drawn away.
"We can't 'choose our family.' You said that." Castiel's gaze settles on his twin, and he shakes his head as if he's brushing that idea away at last. "We do it all the time, Emmanuel. They do it all the time. If we cannot choose our family, then why isn't Claire here? Why isn't our father? Why was Jimmy's family not provided for? Why do you and the others live in fear of being shunned by this family, if we can't choose our family?" Raising his chin, Castiel spears Michael with a look, then Lucifer.
They choose to cull undesirable elements. They excised Jimmy's line from the family as faulty, drove Gabriel and Balthazar to run away rather than have to take part in their fights, tried to sabotage Castiel's relationship with Dean to keep their family from 'embarrassment,' and the rest of his siblings live in fear of being cut off from power and wealth and favor, abasing themselves to retain their status.
Castiel's done with it.
"Whatever 'business' you have for me, send it to my lawyer." Who they'll keep paying for out of Castiel's trust fund until it runs dry, if he has any say so, just for the bitter satisfaction of using their own money against them.
If their plan here tonight is to force him to choose between his family and Dean, there is no choice to make.
Dean watches the rest of the room as Cas marches out, trying to gauge expressions—Gabriel's half-assed salute to Lucifer and Michael seems suspiciously like a middle finger, and Balthazar drifts towards the exit, handing off a bottle to Gabe (he actually did steal drinks for them; Dean's pretty sure he may accidentally start liking another of Cas's brothers if this keeps up). Emmanuel is staring after Castiel like he's being torn apart, but Daphne takes his arm and he turns toward her instead.
Nobody else goes after him. Not yet, at least.
Castiel has Dean now, though, and through him Dean's family. A motley little crew of people too stubborn to give each other up, brought together by mutual respect and love, that clashes and bickers but backs each other in a clinch.
He'll be damned if Cas comes to regret choosing that.
xXx
Dinner turns into a lively affair after all. They end up at a steakhouse not far from the family estate that would be way out of Dean's price range if Gabriel hadn't ostentatiously dropped his credit card on the table and gleefully reminded them as one of the four oldest brothers he has a direct line to the family money.
They drink and eat their fill, after that. Gabriel's a funny drunk, Balthazar enjoys egging him on, and both of them and Dean are practically feeding Castiel shots by the end of the night in an attempt to get him to lighten up. Castiel's loosened up from melancholy into his usual handsy affectionate drunken self by the end of the evening, and they part ways with Balthazar and Gabriel as they cab together to the airport hotel they're staying at, ready to run again.
Dean has to peel Cas off him and into the Impala, tucking their leftovers onto the floorboard, and he drives to the sound of Castiel snoring softly. Campgrounds are cheaper than hotels but safer than pulling onto the shoulder and napping, and they'll need a shower in the morning, so Dean drops twenty on a permit and cruises them into a spot on the shoreline. They don't have a tent, but it won't be the first time Dean's slept in his car.
He perches on the hood to watch the water with one of the stolen bottles of alcohol, and he's not surprised when Castiel joins him after a while, shoulder to shoulder on the cooling metal hood of the Impala, and they pass the drink between them.
"What do I do now?" Castiel asks, apropos of nothing, quiet and faintly lost. When he was fired, he asked the same question of God; now he turns it to Dean, looking for answers as he always seems to. Castiel is ready to fight, ready to turn his back on everything, ready to do what he must for a cause, but he wants direction and he needs something to anchor him so that he doesn't lose himself again. He thought he had Dean, and the next courtroom battle to plan for, but after everything he's still not sure where they stand, and he's drunk enough now that he's unable to hide that uncertainty.
Now it's time to do what Dean should have done in the first place, instead of this ill-conceived attempt to get Cas to dump him. Taking a swig, Dean swallows it down with the last of his fears.
"Now we go home."
Both of them, together.