June 3, 1995

Dean's dad pulled his head out from under the Impala's hood and gave Dean a lopsided smile. "Looks like we're about finished here – how about you go on in and rustle us up some sandwiches while I clean up this mess?"

"Sure," Dean answered, wiping the worst of the grease from his hands on a shop towel.

They had just spent the whole afternoon in the garage tuning up the car, with Dean doing the hands-on work. The only thing his dad had needed to walk him through was gapping the spark plugs since Dean hadn't done it before. His Baby gleamed like she was brand new, and he puffed up in pride. Tonight he'd be taking Robin Custer out on their first date, and he wanted her to be impressed.

"Hey, Dean," Dad called out just as Dean was stepping out the door. "You did good, kid. That car's a classic. I expect she'll still be running like a dream in another twenty-eight years."

Flushing happily, Dean replied, "Yes, sir!"

With a huge grin on his face, he left the garage and crossed the parking pad to the side door of the house. Stepping into the kitchen, Dean kicked off his shoes to avoid tracking oil all over the floor, then scrubbed his hands with the orange pumice soap they kept under the sink. Rummaging in the fridge, Dean dug up some bologna and cheese slices. There wouldn't be enough for Sam when he got back from the library, but he could eat peanut butter.

He was slathering mustard onto some bread and singing "Born to be Wild" at the top of his lungs when a massive crash sounded from outside. For an instant he froze, trying to figure out what made the noise. Then more crashes came, followed by voices shouting, but the ear-splitting scream was what drove him to move.

Dropping everything, Dean burst out of the house and ran across the pad to the garage in his sock feet. He flung open the door, shouting, "DAD!"

Red.

Red everywhere.

Red.

Everything in front of him swam unsteadily as his brain tried to process anything beyond red.

Two sets of yellow eyes turned toward him at his cry. Two feral grins. Two sets of hands, covered in red to the elbows, holding long, narrow knives. And two pairs of black, black wings stretching wide over what was left of his father's body.

The demons exploded into motion, charging toward him with unearthly shrieks, and Dean couldn't move, even though he knew he was about to die.

But instead of knives from the front, Dean felt a crushing force strike him from the side, and the wind was knocked from him in a whoosh as he hit the ground hard and skidded through the dirt.

Gasping, he scrambled to his feet, but immediately tripped over a sagebrush and fell again onto the dusty gray ground.

"Dean!"

A winged figure rushed toward him, and hands grabbed at his arms as he tried to fight the demon attacking him.

"Dean, stop!"

Castiel?

Dean stopped fighting and looked up, stunned to see Castiel staring back, wide-eyed and pale. Castiel, who'd been gone for over three whole years.

"Dean, are you hurt? Did they hurt you?"

Looking around wildly, Dean realized they were outdoors in a wide, barren landscape he'd definitely never seen before. There was nothing but blue sky, sagebrush, and the occasional juniper stretching out in all directions. Castiel must have flown him away.

Away from the demons. Away from Dad.

Dean shoved himself to his feet in his surge of panic. "We have to go back!"

"No, Dean."

He grabbed Castiel roughly and insisted, "We have to go back! Right now!"

Castiel shook his head slowly. "We can't. In a few minutes the demons will be gone, pulled back to the ether. If we go back before that, they'll kill us both."

"Dammit, Cas, we have to help my dad!" His fingers dug in hard as he shook Castiel by the shoulders.

Unfazed by the abuse, Castiel stared at Dean, waiting until he met his eyes, then spoke softly but with finality. "Your father is dead."

Dean shoved, pushing Castiel and his stupid opinions away. "No, he isn't! You don't know that!"

"I do. I can feel it. His life energy was gone – consumed. The artery in his neck was severed, but he was gone even before he bled out."

Backing away, Dean put his hands over his ears. "No, no, no, NO! I could have done something. I could have helped him!"

Hot tears blurred his vision and he turned to run, but stumbled over a sagebrush root, falling again to his hands and knees in the dirt. A sob ripped its way from his guts and the tears burning the backs of his eyes finally spilled over, dripping uselessly in the dust, and once they'd started, they didn't stop. He pressed his forehead into the dirt, sobbing helplessly into the sharp pebbles and cheat grass.

"Dean." Castiel's voice was close. He'd knelt in the dirt beside him.

Dean raised his head, tears still streaming down his face. "Cas, it's my dad."

Castiel looked away. "If there were any chance of saving your father, I would have gone back for him alone. I'm sorry, Dean. I won't let you be hurt. I can't."

"Cas..." Dean's anger deflated, and the shock and loss rose up to suffocate him. He started shaking, so he wrapped his arms tightly around himself.

Quietly, Castiel inched closer until Dean was leaning into him. The great, black wings encircled them both, creating a dark, comforting cocoon around them. Dean turned to rest his gritty forehead against Castiel's shoulder as more tears fell. Nothing felt real. It couldn't be real.

Maybe he was sleeping. Maybe this was all a dream, and he'd wake up soon.

But after a while, Castiel's wings opened a fraction, letting in a little light and shattering the hope that it was all just a nightmare. "Dean? It should be safe to go back now."

Dean squinted and blinked into the light, but nodded slightly into Castiel's shoulder.

Castiel drew back his wings and stood, holding out a hand to help Dean to his feet. He waited until Dean nodded his readiness, then gripped his upper arm, spread his wings, and flew. To Dean, it felt like his insides were yanked home before the rest of him, with everything squishing back together again as they landed.

He stood rooted to the spot Castiel had originally taken him from. The demons were gone, but the rest of it hadn't changed.

red

His dad's body was sprawled near the Impala.

red

Blood pooled thickly around the body and was splattered liberally around the garage – on the car, up the walls, even on the fluorescent lights suspended from the ceiling. How much blood could one body possibly hold?

red

His dad's guts were pulled from a gaping wound in his belly and scattered around like the tools and car parts that had been knocked from the shelves in the scuffle.

RED

Dean turned and lurched out the garage door, falling painfully to his knees and throwing up on the cement of the parking pad. He puked until bile burned his throat and the back of his nose. As he choked and coughed, gagging the last of it up, Castiel brought him a reasonably clean rag that he used to wipe his face of the vomit, snot, and tears.

Crawling back away from the mess, Dean huddled against the outside wall of the garage, wrapping his arms tightly around his drawn up knees. He buried his face in his arms. Castiel crouched down beside him.

"What am I supposed to do, Cas? I don't know what to do." His voice was muffled, but he didn't expect any answers anyway.

Castiel remained quietly by his side for a long time.

When Dean finally raised his head, his thoughts were spinning. "I need to call someone. Who comes for this kind of thing? Ambulance? Police? There's nothing any of them can do." A horrible thought struck, and he was ashamed it hadn't occurred to him earlier. "Oh, shit. Sammy!"

He turned to Castiel in desperation. "Cas, what am I supposed to tell Sam? He can't come home and see all this. What am I gonna do? Where'll we go?"

"Dean." Castiel's voice was a balm to his ragged emotions. "I can find Sam. You call whoever needs to help you, and I'll bring Sam home. I'll make sure he doesn't see what happened."

Castiel stood up and Dean snatched his wrist. "Wait! I- Cas, I don't want you to go. I don't want to be here alone." The thought of being left alone with his father's body made him feel like puking again.

A faraway look settled over Cas's face as his eyes drifted half-closed. He murmured, "Sam is still downtown." Blinking, he focused back on Dean. "Make your call. I'll wait with you until someone comes before I go get Sam."

"But there'll be people here, all over the place. You can't let them see you!"

Castiel reached over to pluck a couple of cheat grass seeds from Dean's hair and brush the grit from his forehead. The gentle touch was soothing. "Trust me, Dean. I know how to stay hidden. I'll stay with you, I'll get Sam, and if you want, I'll come back after everyone leaves. I won't leave you alone."

Dean nodded. "Okay," he breathed. "Okay." He could get through this. With Castiel's help, he could get through this.