Chapter Sixty

Wild Horses

Fun Fact: Chapter title is in reference to the song Wild Horses by Grace Power, a song that sums up Dean's life, and many lives like his, beautifully.

TW/CW: A blurted-out admission about underage sex work – no details given. Mention of past child abuse, verbal, physical, and generally neglect. Overall discussion about John Winchester's A parenting.

Valerius Estate: August 20, 2010 – Night

Bobby ran a hand over his face as he walked into the entertainment room. The family was spread out, Orion working to get a movie going on the projector that hung on the far wall. Azrial was curled up in Marcus' arms, her feet resting on Crowley's lap. They were talking very quietly, and based on Marcus' face, the man had finally been clued in about Alastair. He absently patted Mora and Samael on the head, gaining strange looks from the wolves. He chuckled, the sound sticking in his throat.

"Sorry, used to the hell hounds and my own dog," he said softly.

Mora gently butted her head against him and padded over to Azrial. Samael was observing the room and everyone in it, clearly overwhelmed. He wondered when the angels would be able to shift again. If they would be able to. He finally padded further into the room and, to Bobby's surprise, curled up on the other side of Crowley. If Crowley was bothered by the proximity, it didn't show on his face. Then again, he was extremely focused on Azrial and Marcus.

"Heard you shot him again."

Bobby glanced at Rufus. "Yeah. Azrial tried to stop me."

"Had it coming," Rufus said flatly. "Haven't heard everything yet, but those boys stopped being his kids a long time ago. He had no right to go off on them."

"Was only his shoulder," Bobby muttered.

"You should have killed him years ago."

Bobby shot his friend a surprised look. Rufus sounded pissed, though he was keeping his voice even for the sake of the full room. Dean's head was in Castiel's lap, the two talking about something to do with hunting. It was Dean's default safe subject, and Castiel was happily indulging him. Sam was leaning heavily against Castiel as well, Gabriel's feet in his lap as the archangel rested his head in Rowena's lap. Gabriel was rubbing his temples, likely trying to push away whatever spell had kept him from throwing John into one of his dimensions.

"I thought about it more than once," Bobby said quietly. "Agonized over it, actually. Maybe in another world, I took the plunge. Maybe John pushed too damn far, and I snapped."

"They're your brats," Rufus said firmly. "Don't let that bastard get in your head; he ain't worth it."

Bobby nodded absently, watching as Jo and Claire entered the room and joined the others on the floor. He doubted anyone would be going back to their rooms, especially when pillows and blankets were dragged in.

"Never expected it to get so big," Rufus mused.

"What?"

Rufus snorted and elbowed him. "Our broken little family ain't so little anymore."

Rufus moved to take one of the few armchairs still available and struck up a conversation with Balthazar.

"Pet, are you going to stand there all night?" Crowley asked, drawing his attention away from the rest of the room.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm coming, Your Majesty."

He walked over to join everyone else and had to agree with Rufus; their family wasn't so small anymore. He'd never admit he loved it as much as he did.

Line Break

Dean stared up at the ceiling, enjoying the semi-silence as everyone slept. He'd barely paid attention to the movie as Castiel gently worked him out of his panic attack. A strange acceptance had washed over him once he was surrounded by his friends and family. He felt like he was close to finishing a chapter in his life, and only one thing stood in his way.

"Do you want to go now?" Castiel whispered.

Dean snorted, turning his head to look at his angel. Castiel was cuddled into his shoulder, his blue eyes bright in the low lights. "Reading my mind again?"

"No, but I can sense your resolve," Castiel admitted.

"You up for it?"

Castiel rolled on top of him, and Dean brushed a stray hair out of his angel's face. "I am if you are, Dean."

"Too good to me," Dean said softly.

"We are good for each other," Castiel gently corrected him. "Together then?"

"Together," Dean agreed.

"Will you two get a bloody room?"

Dean snorted at Crowley's annoyed, half-awake grumble. Castiel's lips twitched, but he did roll off him to avoid his vessel collapsing on top of him. They stayed cuddled together a bit longer, enjoying the peace and safety of having everyone around.

Line Break

Dean made his way down to the guest cottage, enjoying the summer night air. There was a cool breeze rustling through the trees and plants, carrying the sweet scent of grapes on it. The moon was full tonight, casting the villa grounds in ethereal light as it bounced off the mostly marble building. The walk was strangely long, but he didn't care. The fresh air settled his nerves, and the thrum of Castiel's grace through his blood put him at ease. One of the nymphsmaking white flowers grow under the moonlight caught sight of him. He gave a half wave, expecting her to vanish like all the others did. To his surprise, her green lips curled into a soft smile, and she waved back before vanishing in a burst of flowers. It was a vivid reminder that his life would never be what it was before the Apocalypse started. Moreover, Dean never wanted it to be. Black and white never really suited him and Sam, especially after John's dying request to kill his brother if it came down to it. Now that he knew more about the world, he'd rather kill himself than go back to how things were.

Dean sighed, brushing his fingers through his hair. He caught sight of his mother's wedding band and frowned. He pulled the band off and shoved it in his pocket, a sense of finality settling over him. Castiel had been silent, letting him process his ragging emotions without comment. He didn't feel alone, though. Castiel's grace wrapped around him as if the angel was standing next to him, and they were walking hand in hand. He reached the cottage door and could hear the hushed arguing. It almost made him laugh. It was just like those few years he remembered with his mom. The fact was his mother and father were shit for each other. The only good thing to come of that union was him and Sam. He knocked, quick and hard, ending the argument. A moment later, the door opened, and he tilted his head at his mother.

"I need to speak with John," Dean said flatly. "And I'm sure he'd like that gunshot healed."

She hesitated, her fingers gripping the door tightly. "Maybe that isn't-"

"Let him in," John cut in. "Sure he has something to say about all of this."

Dean brushed past his mother, not bothering to reassure her. He was beyond that point and honestly hoped both chose to return to Heaven. He doubted it would happen, though. He stopped in front of John and crossed his arms, eyeing his exposed upper body. The bleeding had stopped, but the wound looked angry, as if it was infected. He briefly wondered what type of bullets Bobby had in his gun currently. The ring around the opening didn't look like a normal entry wound.

"You want me to heal you?" Dean asked. "I will, but in exchange, you're gonna shut up and listen to some hard truths."

"I'll heal on my fucking own," John spat. "Not gonna listen to a monster-loving fag."

Dean snorted, unbothered by the slur. It was hardly the first time his father had used it against him, even before Castiel came along.

"Feel free, but Bobby doesn't keep normal bullets in his gun anymore. No telling how long that wound will fester."

He turned to leave and almost reached the threshold when John growled in annoyance. "Heal my shoulder," John ordered.

Dean turned around, raising an eyebrow. "You agree to the deal?"

John grunted, nodding. Dean walked back to him and traced his fingers over the gunshot wound. Once he confirmed the bullet was still in John's shoulder, he shook his head.

"You'd think getting shot at by Bobby once would teach you he doesn't miss unless he wants to."

"How was I supposed to know he would-SHIT!"

Dean wasn't particularly kind when he used Castiel's telekinesis to yank the bullet out of John's shoulder. Honestly, he could have used grace to miracle the damn thing away. This felt better, though. Like a tiny victory over the man who'd caused him so much pain. He inspected the bullet in his fingers, noting the familiar rune work.

"You're damn lucky I pulled this out," Dean said. "These bullets are based off the ones used in the Colt. They were a gift from Crowley when we decided to take the smackdown to Lucifer. I'm not surprised he made more for Bobby that would fit a normal gun without telling us."

Dean made the bullet vanish before pressing his palm firmly to John's shoulder. A soft blue glow later, and the wound was shut. Interestingly, it left a scar. He'd have to mention this to the others since they weren't sure how durable the souls-turned-army were. It made sense to him, though, that nothing could truly destroy a soul; rather, it would slowly force them to transition back to their proper place in the afterlife.

"Come outside," Dean said emotionlessly. "I have a feeling you're gonna try and hit me, and I really don't want Cassiopeia and Aeliana up my ass for doing damage in here." Dean stalked outside, his body humming with energy. The truth is, he wanted a fight too. Fighting was easy compared to all the things he wanted to scream at John.

"Say your piece and leave," John snapped. "I don't have time for you."

"Still feebly grabbing for control?" Dean sneered back. "I don't answer to you, John."

"No, you chose to take orders from a demon's whore."

Dean shot forward, punching John with more force than he probably should have. Then again, that was a human standard, and right now, neither of them really were. The man reared back as Dean fell back on his heels, ready to move if needed. John made to punch him back, but Dean shifted out of the way of the precise punch with ease.

"I'm surprised you didn't get fucking jumped on your way back," Dean said. "That entire army has a soft spot for Azrial."

"Only because she brought them back," John snapped. "They're just hoping to stick around when all is said and done."

Dean laughed, the absurdity of the statement making Castiel mentally shake his head. "You're so fucking naïve, you know that?"

John looked furious and took another swing. In the past, Dean would be nursing a black eye. He wasn't that man anymore, though. He'd been training under fucking legionaries, angels, and demons. That didn't even take into account the years of hunting the damn devil and Lilith. As good as John was, he just didn't have the experience Dean had from fighting non-stop the past few years. He moved at the last moment, shoving John's hand down and making the man stumble past him.

"They came because of loyalty—something you don't understand anymore," Dean spat. "Whatever happened to Semper Fi, John? What would your old Marine buddies think of you now? Bet they hold the same distaste hunters do if you leave a man behind or let someone die on your watch despite being able to help them."

"Dean, you're going too far," his mother said.

"Stay out of this," he said coolly without looking at her. "I'm pissed at you too, but in my opinion, John is the bigger issue."

"Stop being a disrespectful bastard," John spat. "Your mother doesn't deserve it."

"Doesn't she?" Dean asked. "I'm sure she can tell you why I'm pissed. For now, this is about you and me, John. If you continue to insult the Domina of this land, those legionnaires may just figure out how to kill you in this form."

"Why the hell would they do that? She's just their commander's wife. They don't have any loyalty to her."

"Are you kidding me?" Dean asked in disbelief. "Did you lose all your hunting skills between your trip to Hell and time in Heaven?"

"Think you're so smart?" John demanded. "How the hell would you even know what they think?"

"Because I spent five fucking minutes in the camp and listened!" Dean took a deep breath, trying to steady his temper. "I did what a hunter would and investigated. Azrial is a very private person, and whether you believe it or not, she's humble when it comes to what she does for people. I wanted to know why all these people were willing to risk Heaven punishing them to help us."

"And what did they tell you, huh?" John laughed, shaking his head. "She's nobody, Dean. She was a submissive housewife in the past and became a demon's whore after her husband died. It ain't that complicated."

Dean's felt his nails biting into his palms. Fury was burning through his blood, and he wasn't positive it was all his own.

I'll try and keep calm. I'm sorry. I didn't expect to react so strongly.

Dean took a deep breath as Castiel's words flowed through his mind. No one should hear this crap about their sister.

No, they shouldn't.

Castiel's gentle comment was loaded, but Dean decided not to focus on it for now. Besides, the implication was probably right. He just needed time to wrap his mind around it.

"I'm going to let you try and prove you aren't an absolute lost cause," Dean finally said. "Go talk to them. Be a damn hunter and gather information."

"You don't get to give orders, boy."

Dean's eyes narrowed, and he shot forward. This time he didn't pretend to be normal. To be human. He let Castiel's wings snap out of his back, let the power fill his green eyes until they glowed in the low light, and he bodily lifted John off the ground by the neck. He didn't choke the man; he did it mostly to show just how strong he was right now.

"I am her second," Dean spat. "Azrial is training me to lead part of her garrison, to lead men she cared deeply for."

"You're a monster," John snarled. "Just another fucking monster I need to kill."

Dean had to keep a tight rein on Castiel's power at the threat. The angel was pissed, and Dean knew if he let him take over John would be a blood stain.

"Maybe I am," Dean said softly. "But it turns out monsters loved me better than my sperm donner ever did."

"You take that—" John screamed, dragging his nails over Dean's hand.

"Quiet."

Dean watched John try to speak before realizing he couldn't. It would be amusing if his struggling wasn't so sad. Dean sighed and dropped John on the floor, frowning at the man.

"You promised to listen, so shut the hell up. I'm so fucking done arguing with you." Dean could feel Castiel's wings fluff in agitation. "First, Sam and I are done taking orders from you. You've been dead a few years, and you don't understand anything we've had to live through. What we had to face to be standing here today. For that alone, you don't get to say shit about our choices."

He rolled his shoulders, trying to lose some of the tension in his body. "I raised Sam. I gave up so damn much for that brilliant kid, John. I don't think you even know the half of it. If you did, you're more of a bastard than I thought."

"Dean, he did his best," his mother feebly argued from the sidelines. "I'm sure if you just let him go-"

Dean laughed, the sound burning his throat. He could feel the bitterness burning through his blood. The anger, shame, resentment, and abandonment. "You think he did his best?" Dean demanded, turning to his mother. "Really?"

"He said he did," she said firmly.

"He's a liar," Dean spat, losing what little patience he had. "If he'd done his best, Sammy and I would have been left with Bobby permanently when he offered. If John had done his fucking best, I never would have had to choose between feeding myself or Sammy. He never would have beat me while drunk out of his damn mind because I looked a little too much like you. If John had done his goddamn best, then I wouldn't have had to sell my fucking body at fifteen to get money for food after being left alone for months!"

Dean froze when he realized what he'd just said. Castiel had gone still inside him, shock and horror radiating through his grace. It was a mirror of his mother's face, her mouth was moving uselessly at his declaration.

Dean, Castiel prompted softly.

He felt panic coiling tightly in his chest. He hadn't meant to push this far, to say so damn much.

"I hate you," Dean choked out, unable to stop the words despite his best efforts. "I fucking hate you, John Winchester. So do me a favor and stay the fuck away from me. You didn't want a fag for a son, so guess what? I don't want you as a fucking father. Position's been filled by a man worth ten of you."

He lifted the spell of silence but didn't stick around for the blow out. He flew away, landing in a heap in the training pit. He curled up against the edge, breathing heavily. He just needed to breath. It would pass. It wasn't like he hadn't said anything that wasn't true.

A wing rested around his shoulder, not Castiel's, and Dean froze. He turned to see Sam staring out at the sparring pit. Gabriel's massive gold wings rested around him, his power thrumming through the air in a comforting hum.

"Please tell me you didn't hear that," Dean whispered.

"No, but Gabe felt Castiel's anger. Once he felt you leave the cottage, I came to find you."

Dean sighed in relief and leaned against his brother's shoulder. He felt Sam's head fall against his and relished the closeness. It felt amplified, probably because Gabriel and Castiel were brothers, too. The feeling of safety rested like a weighted blanket around Dean. He'd never been much for physical affection and talking things through, but then Castiel happened. Castiel who was happy to hold him close or listen as he rambled about things he loved or hated. Through that, he'd become so much closer to Sam. They'd rebuilt their bond to a point where Dean could confidently say he trusted his brother with his life. If anything, they were closer than they used to be, and he was damn grateful.

"Feel better for getting it out?" Sam asked after several minutes of silence.

"I do," Dean admitted quietly. "Feel lighter."

"I'm glad. You deserved to be heard after everything he did to you."

"If it was a few months ago, I'd tell you he did nothing," Dean said. "But Sammy, he fucked me up. Bad. Sometimes, I wonder if I'm going to turn into him, and it scares the crap outta me."

"You are nothing like him," Sam said firmly. "I know it probably doesn't seem like it, but you aren't. You're a lot more like Bobby than you ever were our father."

"If I started becoming like him, you'd tell me, right?"

"I'm sure Cas would, too," Sam promised. "We love you, Dean. You're not alone anymore, and you don't have to shoulder everything on your own. Let us help carry the weight."

Dean shut his eyes in a vain attempt to stem his tears. He leaned closer to his brother and breathed in the sweet summer air. It was over—for whatever that was worth. He'd finally slammed shut a part of his life he'd wanted to for years, and the relief he felt was overwhelming.

"If you cry, I won't tell anyone. No chick flick moments and all that."

Sam's gentle teasing made him laugh. And yeah, he was probably crying. Thankfully, he knew his brother would never rat him out.