SPN FICLET: aftermath

[xylodemon]

aftermath
Castiel, Dean | gen | ~800 words

--

"Alright," Sam says, breaking nearly a half-hour of solid silence. "You ready to tell me what really happened?"

There's only one thing he could be talking about, but Dean asks, "With what?" anyway.

"With Billie. And," Sam's voice dips, "Cas."

They're north of Waterloo, parked on the shoulder of US 63. Jack is pacing the field behind them, trying to reconnect with whatever cosmic disturbance he's been sensing the last couple of days.

Dean shrugs. "I already told you what happened."

It's drizzling again, barely enough to mist the Impala's windshield, but it's an excuse to get out of the car. As Dean reaches for the handle, Sam grabs his arm.

"Where you going?"

"To get the kid before he gets soaked."

Sighing, Sam says, "Yeah, not so fast," and shifts sideways in his seat. "Spill."

"I already told you—"

"You told me Cas had some crazy deal with the Empty and that he cashed it in to keep Billie from icing you."

"'Cuz that's what happened."

"Sure," Sam says, his mouth thinning a little. "But it isn't the whole story."

Dean doesn't know if he can tell the whole story—the tears in Cas' eyes, the rasp in his voice, the way his hand shook as his touched Dean's shoulder.

The last, bittersweet look on his face.

He says, "Sam," and stops. He's has an ache under his ribs, so raw and brittle and horrible he barely has room to breathe. "I'm not—I can't—"

"Hey. I know that Cas," Sam hesitates before continuing, "meant a lot to you. But you're obviously carrying something pretty heavy."

Dean checks on Jack in the rearview mirror. He's moved deeper into the field, is standing beside a cartoonish-looking scarecrow, his shoulders hunched, his collar flipped up against the wind.

He says, "fine," and squeezes his hands into fists. "You really wanna know?"

"Yes."

"He—he, uh." Fuck fuck fuck. "He told me he loved me."

Sam is silent for a long, long time.

Dean breaks first; he can't take the sick feeling chewing at his gut. He grunts, "Nothing to say," with his eyes fixed on the windshield.

"I'm just surprised."

"You're surprised?"

Sam shakes his head. "Not like that. I'm surprised he finally told you."

"What?" Dean asks, voice cracking. "You, uh. You…knew?"

"Yeah."

Dean closes his eyes. "Fuck."

"Are you—oh." Sam makes a face Dean can't even begin to interpret. "You really didn't know."

It isn't a question, but Dean mumbles, "No," anyway. "I—how the fuck would I have known."

Sam huffs a little. "I mean, he wasn't exactly subtle." After a pause, he adds, "Neither were you."

Dean feels sick again. He rubs his hand over his face and tries to keep breathing.

Sam says, "Hey," and nudges Dean with his elbow. "It's alright. We don't have to keep talking about it."

Dean doesn't want to talk about it. But now that the band-aid's half off, there's no point in leaving it hanging there.

"I just—I didn't know."

"If you had," Sam ventures, "would it have changed anything?"

Dean closes his eyes again. "Probably not."

"Why?"

"'Cuz it's Cas," Dean snaps. "He's a fucking angel." Was. Was a fucking angel. "You heard what Chuck said. In ever other universe, he pulled me out of Hell and walked away."

"But not in this one."

Dean lets out an ugly laugh. "No. In this one i ruined everything for him."

"Dean," Sam says quietly. "Don't think about it like that."

Dean's eyes are stinging. He barks, "He's dead," and rubs them with the heels of his hands. "He told me I'd changed him. That I taught him how to care about things. All it did was get him killed."

"He made his own choices."

Dean snorts. "Yeah, and he chose me. Stupid fucking choice."

"Stupid or not," Sam says, "it was his choice. Isn't that what we've been fighting for all these years? What we're fighting for now? Free will?"

Dean thinks about Cas being swallowed by the Empty. Smiling through tears as black goo surrounded him. Sacrificing himself so Dean would keep breathing another few days.

"Not like this."

Sam nudges Dean's side again. "I get it. Believe me, I get it." He pauses for a moment, scratches his jaw. "After this Chuck stuff is settled, we'll work on getting him back."

Dean swallows hard. "We can't. That's—it was part of his deal. This time, it's forever."

Sam waves that off. "Like that's ever stopped us."

"That what you're telling yourself about Eileen?"

"Yeah," Sam says. He barely flinches. "I figure if we keep grinding, we can take out Chuck and reset whatever he did that zapped everyone out of here."

Dean says, "Yeah, alright," and heaves out a sigh. The rain is starting to pick up; he watches it for a moment, then jerks his thumb over his shoulder and tells Sam, "Go get Jack, will ya? Baby ain't a waterpark."

Sam huffs at him but climbs out of the car. Dean watches him go.

Then:

"Hey, Cas. I hope you can hear me. What you said to me before you, uh—before you left, I need you to know that I—I do too. I have for a long time. And once we get Chuck snuffed, I'm getting out outta there. I just—I want you here. With me."