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Dean slid the credit card across the desk to the motel clerk and held up one finger. The guy nodded, pressed the card into the reader and turned it so Dean could see the keypad.
He'd booked rooms for one a hundred times now, but the sting of loss it provoked had yet to dull.
He wondered idly how long it had been – the days and nights of solo driving, lone hunting, and drinking alone indistinguishable from each other – and ran his thumb over the card as the man handed it back. It was so worn the expiry date was now illegible.
He would have to score another one soon. But right now he needed some crappy food and something to take the edge off.
“One-oh-four,” said the clerk, pushing the room key across the desk.
“Thanks.” Dean scooped up the key and headed for his room.
***
He crammed the last fries into his mouth and dropped the burger wrapper into the trash before reaching for the bottle of Jack. He leaned back against the headboard and washed down the carbs and grease with several gulps of whiskey.
He glanced at his phone even though it never rang any more. Since losing Sam, they had all stopped calling, even Jody. He had long since stopped wondering if they thought he was reckless hunting on his own and didn't want to 'enable' him, or if they blamed him. He sure as hell blamed himself.
The memory of Sam desperately fighting off three vampires on the porch while he slid into helpless unconsciousness on the neatly manicured grass below had him reaching for the bottle and pouring a few more fingers of whiskey into his gut.
The only person who had ever called was Cas, but the reception was always awful and the slices of conversation they managed were beyond stilted. And now not even Cas called anymore.
*drink*
Dean wished that he had been the one to die. He had promised he would take care of Sammy and he had failed.
*drink*
At least Dad wasn't alive to see how badly he had fucked up.
*drink*
Or Mom…
*drink*
Or Bobby…
*drink*
Or Charlie…
*drink*
*drink*
*drink*
*pass out*
***
“Hello, Dean.”
Dean blinked into the darkness. A slice of muted light was cutting across the room where the motel room curtains didn't meet. Standing on the edge of it was an angel in a trench-coat.
“Cas?”
“Yes.”
Dean practically fell out of bed, stumbling across the floor. “You son of a bitch…”
Cas ducked the drunken right hook and winced as Dean slammed into the wall.
“I'm sorry you had to go through this alone…” He took a step away from the hunter. Dean was pulling himself back to his feet - fury and grief blackening his eyes. “… but my orders were clear and they were in everyone's best interest.”
“Everyone's?” Dean's voice was hoarse with anger and sorrow.
Cas looked at Dean, his wide, blue eyes full of heartache. Even after everything they had seen and done, he had never seen Dean so utterly broken.
“What about Sammy? What about his best interests?”
Cas frowned. “It was because of Sam that I had to stay away. If you'd known the truth...”
“The truth? I *know* the truth, Cas. Sammy died because of me. I screwed up and I got him killed. And there's nothing you could have said or done to make that better, but...” Dean swallowed a sob. “...abandoning me before his body was even cold? How the hell was that in my best interests?”
Finally allowing himself to feel the weight of months of unprocessed grief, Dean dropped to his knees. Tears streamed down his cheeks and dripped on to his T-shirt.
“You didn't get him killed, Dean.”
“There were so many of them, Cas. I couldn't get to him...”
“Dean.”
“It was my job to take care of him...”
“Dean.”
“He was my little brother and...”
“Dean!”
At last Dean looked up.
“It wasn't Sam who died in that fight.” Now Cas looked like he was going to cry. “It was you.”
***
Dean scrambled back to his feet. “What the hell, Cas? Who brought me back this time? And if Sam's alive, where is he?”
Cas looked uncomfortable. “No one brought you back, Dean. Sam and I made a deal...”
“Dammit, Cas! I'd expect that crap from Sam, but you know better than that. What did it cost this time? Your grace? Or Sam's soul? After all we went through to get them back...”
Cas laid a hand on Dean's shoulder. “It wasn't that kind of deal. We … made an arrangement with Billie.”
Dean resisted the urge to wheel around the room in frustration; the weight of Cas's hand resting in the first place it had ever touched him was compelling. “Dealing with Death? Cos that always goes super well! For someone so smart, Sammy sure is dumb sometimes.”
Cas looked him square in the eyes. “It wasn't Sam. It was me.”
This was too much. Dean threw his hands in the air, dislodging Cas's comforting hold on him. “You what?”
“Dean. I...” Cas sighed. “I couldn't bear the thought of you – alone, forever – in the Empty. So I made the deal.”
“Which was?”
“You could come to Heaven, but you'd be on lockdown. We wouldn't try to get you out and as long as you didn't know you were dead, you wouldn't try to escape.”
“So, this,” Dean gestured at his surroundings, “all this is Heaven's version of solitary?”
“Yes. We couldn't risk you finding out the truth. If you left Heaven, Billie would have returned you to the Empty.”
“And no visitors?”
Cas winced. “Sam said I would 'give the game away in ten seconds flat'. But,” his eyes were fixed on the floor, hands now clenching and unclenching nervously, “I disobeyed him.”
“I'm sorry?”
“I couldn't let you see me, but I've been here, Dean. Whenever it was safe to leave Sam, I've been here.” The words seemed to catch in his throat.
Dean stepped closer and with two fingers lifted Cas's chin until he could see his face. It felt like a black hole had opened in his chest. Cas's eyes were brimming with tears. Dean felt his own lips start to tremble and slid his hand on to Cas's stubbled cheek. A tear broke free and ran down the angel's cheek. Dean gently swiped at it with his thumb.
“It's good to see you, man.”
Cas nodded, fearing he might actually sob if he tried to speak. There was a question in Dean's eyes that the hunter couldn't voice either. Cas's answer had been 'yes' for fifty years, but a life of consecutive and concurrent crises had prevented there ever being a right time or place to say it. Then that fatal vampire ambush had happened and the deal had been made and he'd had to wait for the last piece of the deal to be completed.
He leaned forward so slightly that a watcher wouldn't have seen the movement, but Dean felt the tiny, and oh so significant, change in pressure on his hand and Cas watched the surprised delight bloom across his face.
Cas mirrored Dean and rested a hand on his face, waiting for a moment before pressing his lips to Dean's and sliding his fingers into the clippered hair at the nape of his neck.
For a moment Dean feared he was going to fall back to the floor. His knees buckled and he wasn't sure that even Cas's love could fill the heavy void in his chest. And then he felt Cas slide his free hand on to his waist and he was anchored again and every thought was of this kiss, of Cas's lips and tongue, of his firm body pulling itself against Dean's, of his own hand rising to bury itself in Cas's thick, dark hair while the other slid to the small of Cas's back and tugged him closer still.
His fingers began pulling at Cas's shirt, keen to feel warm, smooth skin instead of polyester cotton, but Cas broke the kiss, that awkward look back on his face. Dean's hands sprang back to his sides, his face failing to hide his sudden panic as he stepped backwards.
“Look, I'm sorry, I…”
Cas looked panicked too. “You have nothing to apologise for, Dean. It's just. I thought we should talk about Sam before we … get carried away.”
Dean's eyes narrowed. “Where *is* Sam?”
Cas gnawed on his lip. “You need to know that time doesn't pass in the same way here as on Earth.”
“What?”
“You've been here more than thirty years.”
“You *are* kidding me!”
“I am not.”
“Sammy's been on his own all that time?”
“I told you. I've been watching his back. Keeping him safe.”
“There's a great big 'but' in this, what is it?”
“Sam's waiting for us down the road. With his wife. And his dogs.”
“He's dead?”
“Died in his sleep at the age of 72. He can't wait to see you again.”
The levee finally broke and Dean stood, weeping into his hands. Cas stepped forward, hesitantly, and sensing no resistance pulled Dean into his arms, letting his coat soak up the tears.
***
Dean ran a hand over Baby's flank, frowned and climbed into the car. He started the engine and looked over at Cas.
“So if Sam's here, who's looking after Baby?”
“Baby is fine, Dean. Sam's daughter is almost as obsessed with that car as you are.”
“Daughter?”
“I think Sam should be telling you all this.”
“You're right. So we just drive and I get out of solitary?”
“Just follow the road. It will take us home.”
Dean smiled as he laid a hand on Cas's thigh and squeezed. “I'm already home, but let's go see what Sam's apple-pie life looks like.”
***
The motel clerk looked up as the Impala roared on to the highway, kicking up a cloud of dust as she went. He smiled, adjusted the ring on her finger and at last closed the book on the desk in front of her.
“I'm almost going to miss you, Dean Winchester. Almost.”