Dean could feel the rapid rise and fall of Sammy's shoulders beside him, but he couldn't tear his eyes from the sky. It was lit across in amazing streaks of light. He would have found it beautiful out of context. Briefly, Dean was reminded of that story about the chicken. What was it? Small Chicken? No. Something like that though. The sky was falling. The angels. All of them.
He recalled Sam's words.
I really feel like we're gonna win this time.
Sammy always was the optimist. Sammy.
Dean forced himself to turn away from the sky to his brother. Sam was staring up, sunken, puffy pink eyes fixed on the sky, watching the world crash all around them, not for the first time. Jesus. Why did it always have to fucking be like this?
At a glance, Sam seemed fine. Shaky and ill from the attempted curing, but all in all, fine. But that didn't stop him from reaching out to shake his brother's attention onto himself, "Sam... Sammy!"
Sam finally turned to Dean and the look in those ridiculously tired looking eyes pulled something in Dean's chest. "You okay?"
Sam nodded, making his stupidly long mane of hair shake this way and that. He was about to say something else, but Sam interrupted, his eyes moving past dean to see a figure stumble out of the tree line. "Dean," he said pointing over at the kneeled man whose head was turned upward watching heaven expel its own sons and daughters.
Dean followed Sam's pointed finger. "Cas?"
It was a whisper he knew Cas wouldn't hear. He couldn't see Cas' face, only the outline of his profile. That long neck stretched back, his shoulders slack, his spine slouching, it was a Castiel Dean hadn't seen before. The angel had been motionless for a bit, so when he suddenly moved Dean jumped a bit.
Cas' hands rose slowly from where they'd hung at his sides to grip his hair. Dean could see his jaw shift, his mouth open wide, but he wasn't saying anything. His hands were pulling, yanking, at his own hair. Something was wrong...
Dean was upright without realizing he'd actually moved, his feet dragging him toward the angel. He looked back at Sam quickly, to make sure he'd be alright alone for a moment. When he reached Castiel's side he squatted and tentatively placed a hand on the trench coat clad shoulder.
Cas turned a bit and Dean was able to catch a look at his face finally. He was crying. Well that wasn't exactly how Dean would have described it. Cas was sobbing. Tears smeared across his face, making his eyes raw, his nostrils flared trying to suck as much oxygen as possible into his heaving lungs. His fists were still bunched in his short fluffy and disheveled brown hair. Dean immediately thought of the first time he met Castiel in that old barn. He'd stormed in like a damned tornado. Like he fucking owned the place. Dean remembered the look on his face. He'd looked annoyed. Of all things. Fucking annoyed. What a dick.
The memories of the past years with Sammy and Cas rushed through his mind. Cas betraying them, trying to take over heaven, lying to him and the bitterness he'd felt before was completely missing. To hell with stupid fucking grudges, Castiel was his friend. His brother. His...
Cas was his fucking angel.
He didn't know exactly why Cas was in the sobbing, but he pulled him into his arms all the same because... Well...because what else could he do?
They both gasped at the impact of one chest against another. It was a little awkward. Dean was never one for physical contact, though Cas' complete disregard for personal space in the past definitely made it less strange.
"Dean," Cas said. The short uttered name was rushed, breathy, as if Cas were about to melt into a puddle any second and he had to get the words out.
"Dean, I'm sorry."
"It's alright, just shut up."
"It's not though," Cas said. Dean could hear him reaching the edge of his control. A falling angel crashed to earth just a mile or so off and made the ground shake, the Impala rattle, and the sky light for a moment with fire. Cas's arms finally wrap around Dean and clutch at the back of his jacket, and with that Cas was broken.
A loud wail ripped from his chest, the volume of it made Dean flinch his head away a bit. The sounds that tore from his friends made Dean pull him a bit tighter and shift one hand to cup the back of his head, sort of craddling it against his shoulder.
"Cas come on now, it's alright," Dean said in a gruff voice. He didn't know what to say to placate Castiel. But what he'd just said had no effect.
Cas shook violently against Dean, fisting the back of the hunter's jacket.
"Shh, shh, hey... Cas, look at me. Castiel!"
Cas shuddered a bit pulled back enough to look Dean in the eye. Whatever Dean had planned on saying died on his tongue. He knew that look. Dean himself had worn it before. Cas' lips curled into a snarl and he pulled one hand around to punch at Dean's chest. To Dean's surprise, the impact was weak.
"Dean. They are my family. I made them fall. They are my family. I did this. Why can't I fix anything? Why is it so hard?"
Cas' words began to dissolve into sharp grunts as he started to pull at his hair again, ripping chunks of it from his skull.
Dean grabbed Cas by his wrists, stopping the abuse to Cas' hair. He crouched a little, forcing Cas to look at him again. He slowly raised a hand to run gently across Cas' scalp, soothing the aching there.
"We'll be okay. I promise. You know why?" His voice was just over a whisper. In his peripheral he could see the number of angels streaking through the night sky drop.
"Because you're my family. And I don't give a damn what we have to go through, what sons of bitches we have to face, what bastards we've gotta gank, we're gonna set things right. You and me and Sammy, saving the world because that's what we do."
Cas let Dean pull him against his chest, his ear resting on Dean's sternum.
Dean didn't know what possessed him to do so, but he began humming a tune, the vibrations deep and, hopefully, comforting to his friend. Hell it always worked when he was younger. Even with Sammy.
The melody to Hey Jude wrapped them both in a thin cloak of security. Dean wondered for a moment how long he could stretch out the song. How long before they had to return to the reality of the world? Before they were slinking back across this godforsaken country to follow some half-baked lead?
Well. He'd deal with that later, he guessed.
Right now there was just Dean, Cas, and The Beatles, sitting in the dusty driveway of an old church. And the sky wasn't falling around them, and his angel wasn't sad, and his little brother wasn't sick, and there was no world to rescue.
Dean smiled weakly, pressing his lips into Cas' hair. It smelled of soil.
"Then you begin to make it better."
Hoped you enjoyed the read! This one shot was actually inspired by an amazing piece of fanart. I've tried posting the link but it won't seem to work. So If you'd like to see the piece, by seraphlimonade on tumblr, please message me and I'll provide you a link via message!
On a completely unrelated note, those of you also following my BBC Sherlock fanfic, I WILL update it. I know I've been saying that a lot, but it has not been abandoned. Currently the chapter is about half way done and is about eight pages long. I appreciate all your patience and well wishes!
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