All That Remains

Author's Note: Okay so this one has been in the works for a while and I'm nervous because it's my first crossover AND my first attempt at the Torchwood fandom, but I'm really pleased with how it came out so hopefully you like it! :D Also, ***WARNING*** it contains major spoilers for Torchwood 3x04. Btw, just to avoid confusion, I can't figure out how to do the line breaks, so I wrote SPNxTW instead.

Infinite thanks go to my internet bffl Fiona (fionasank), just asdfghjkl I love you so much omg. And a quick thank you to my friend Teddy for lending me some of his alcohol expertise :P

"If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger."

- Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights


Dean collapsed on his bed in the bunker, feeling exhausted. It was late and they had just got back from a hunt- a simple salt-and-burn, but tiring nonetheless. He had thrown an arm over his eyes, ready to let sleep claim him, when he heard the sound of hushed voices coming from outside his door.

"Go ahead, just tell him!" Sam's voice said.

"But what if-" he heard Cas' voice try and interject, but Sam's interrupted.

"You'll never know if you don't try."

There was a sigh and then a knock at the door.

"Enter at your own risk." said Dean gruffly, not bothering to move from his spot on the bed.

He peaked out from under his arm and saw Cas lingering in the doorway, only to have an arm shoot out from behind him and roughly shove him in. Cas shot a glare towards the direction of the door and Dean heard a small chuckle fading away down the hall. Cas turned to look at Dean and Dean sat up slightly, his upper body resting on his elbows.

"If now is a bad time I can just come back-" Cas started to say, but Dean silenced him with a wave of his hand.

"What's up, Cas?" Dean asked. Cas approached the bed, perching himself on the very edge.

"The truth is Dean, since I've fallen I've had to adjust to new… feelings. Emotions were something that were alien to me as an angel, and even more so as a human. However, now that I've begun to understand them more, I find myself trying to place the emotions that I feel for you and-"

"Just spit it out, Cas. What's your point?" Dean said, rather rudely. Cas swallowed nervously.

"Well… it's love, Dean. I'm in love with you." Cas finished. He eyed the hunter with trepidation. Dean just gaped.

"Please say something." Cas said quietly, interrupting the silence that had fallen between them. Dean suddenly stood and started to pace.

"What the hell do you want me to say, Cas?" he asked, frustrated. The former angel looked down towards his lap, seemingly embarrassed.

"You don't return my sentiment." he said, resigned. Dean stopped his pacing for a moment and sighed, wiping a hand tiredly down his face.

"No it's… it's not that." Cas looked up and tilted his head in confusion, a flicker of hope renewed in his blue eyes. He waited for Dean to continue.

"I don't know if you've noticed, Cas, but everyone, everyone that I love either leaves me or dies. I just… I don't want that to happen to you, man. I can't let it." Dean said, looking at Cas sadly. Cas stood up and slowly approached him.

"Dean, I-" he started to say, reaching out towards the hunter.

"No! I'm sorry, but I can't." Dean interrupted, dodging Cas' touch and disappearing out the door. He grabbed his jacket and left the bunker, trying his best to block out the image of the former angel's hurt-filled eyes.

He really needed a drink.


"We've got to get you out of here; I can survive anything, but you can't!" you say as you clutch onto him, panic filling your heart.

"Too late. I breathed the air." he says quietly.

Both your eyes and his are filling with tears. He knows what's coming and so do you, however much you try to deny it.

"There's got to be something! There's got to be an antidote!" you say desperately. There's a way out of this, of course there is, there has to be.

"You said you would fight." the 456 says and you turn to it.

"Then I take it back, alright?! I take it all back, but not him!" you say, bravery and heroism be damned.

You see him start to fade and he falls to the floor. An endless litany of "no" erupts from your mouth. This isn't happening, this isn't happening, this can't be happening, but it is and you let the tears start to fall as you cradle his body because you know that there's nothing you can do about it.

"It's all my fault." you say, as that realization crashes down on you. You mean it as an apology, but you don't expect forgiveness, you don't deserve forgiveness.

"No, it's not." he replies feebly, but you know in your heart that this isn't true.

"Don't speak, save your breath." you tell him, caressing his face.

"I love you." he says, a choking sound that he forces out through his tears.

"Don't." you say. You can't say it back. Not here, not now, not under these circumstances. You cling to the desperate hope that there will be another chance to say it. You'll take him to a romantic dinner, walk him home, and that's when you'll tell him. He'll smile and kiss you, and as you make love that night, the sentiment will be renewed from both of your lips too many times to count.

His eyes start to slide shut and you call his name, begging him to stay with you. He hangs on a little a longer.

"It was good, yeah?" he asks, as if there was even the remotest chance that he wasn't above and beyond good enough.

"Yeah." you assure him.

"You'll forget me." he says sadly.

"Never could." you reply sincerely.

"In a thousand years time, you won't remember me." he says, repeating his insecurity.

"Yes I will. I promise I will." you say, pouring your heart and soul into those words because you need him to understand that whether it's a thousand years or a million, you would never- could never- forget him. Ever.

You watch in horror and disbelief as he slips away. You call his name and beg him to stay with cries of "don't go", "don't leave me", "please don't", but you're too late. He's gone.

You give him a gentle kiss, knowing that this will be your last chance to do so. Rather than being warm and inviting, his lips are cold and unresponsive.

You remain holding onto him as you collapse, letting the virus take you, and you descend into nothingness with the knowledge that when you inevitably come back to life, it will be without him.

Jack awoke with a gasp in the crappy motel room that he was currently in. He sat up and tried to catch his breath, kicking off the tangled sheets around him. He was covered in a light sheen of sweat and, knowing that he wouldn't be getting back to sleep anytime soon, decided to take a shower.

Jack undressed slowly, sluggishly. As he stood under the stream of hot water, he tried to let the memories of Ianto's death wash off of him- unsuccessfully, of course. It had been months since his death, but Jack was forced to relive their final moments together practically every night. He let his tears mix with the water, allowing himself a moment of grief, but after a few minutes he stood up straight, wiped his eyes, and turned off the shower.

Wrapping a towel around his waist, he walked back into the motel room. After Ianto's death, he had left Torchwood, needing some time off to get his head together. He spent some time exploring the depths of time and space, everywhere from the raining comets in Sector 15 of the Andromedius Galaxy, to the lava pits of the Xenon Nebula. Right now however, he was taking a small break by traveling around and seeing what Earth had to offer him. He was currently making a pit stop in Lebanon, Kansas.

Jack eyed his bed longingly, wishing he could surrender to a dreamless sleep in its comfortable embrace, but put on clothes (his typical attire of a button up shirt, suspenders, and trademark coat) and headed out to the local bar in need of a drink and a distraction.


Jack entered the moderately tasteful bar to be met with sounds of softly playing rock music. The bar had hardwood flooring and the seats were upholstered with a dark red material. The dimly lit place was pretty much empty, save for the few drunken men arguing over the sports game that was playing on the old television set in the corner. He took a seat in front of the bar.

"What can I get you?" the woman behind the bar asked in a pleasant British accent. Jack gave her an appreciative once over. She was average height with a lean build, but curvy in all the right places. She had long blonde hair with a fringe that swept over her light blue eyes. Jack had seemingly found his distraction, a very attractive distraction at that. He glanced at the nametag pinned to her Cambridge University t-shirt. "Fiona" it read. He shot her a flirty smile.

"Fiona." he said, dragging out her name slightly and letting it roll off his tongue. "Beautiful name for a beautiful woman."

Fiona rolled her eyes at the frankly lame pick-up line, but smiled in spite of herself.

"Gee, thanks." she replied with an air of amused sarcasm.

"My pleasure."

"So, are you going to order anything or just sit there chatting me up all night?" she replied cheekily.

"Both, with any luck." Jack said with a wink. He heard the sound of someone sitting on the stool next to him.

"I'll have a beer. Anything you got is fine." he heard a gruff- and rather sexy, thought Jack- voice say. Jack turned to face the newcomer and widened his eyes slightly. The man was drop dead gorgeous. He had light brown hair that stuck up at the front and green eyes that could only be equated with sunlight shining through a tree canopy. The man looked very muscular and had one hell of a jawline that was covered in mild stubble.

"I'll have what he's having." Jack said to Fiona, his gaze wandering to the man's slightly pouted pink lips as his wicked mind conjured up things that would put that mouth to good use. Fiona nodded, looking slightly disappointed that she had lost Jack's attention, and went to grab their drinks.

"So, what's a handsome man like yourself doing drinking alone?" Jack asked incredulously, his charming smile on full display. The man looked mildly uncomfortable.

"Uh… sorry pal, I don't swing that way. I mean… I might, but I'm taken. I mean… Christ. I don't know what I mean." the man rambled, finishing in frustration. Fiona returned with their beers. The man took a large swig.

"Well, I've always said that the good ones are either straight or taken, but you don't seem to know what you are." Jack said questioningly.

"Look man, no offense, but I don't really go around talking about my personal life with strangers." the man replied, but Jack just smiled.

"We'll just have to fix that then, won't we?" he said, sticking out his hand. "Captain Jack Harkness, at your service."

"Dean Winchester." the man replied, shaking Jack's hand.

"There. Not strangers anymore." Jack said. Dean couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at the man's persistence. Dean eyed his drink.

"Well… I'm gonna need a hell of a lot more to drink than this to start talking about my feelings." Dean said, a hint of disdain in his voice. Jack laughed.

"I'll drink to that." He said, tilting his bottle towards Dean. The two men clinked their bottles together and drank.


Three beers and four shots of whiskey later, both men were feeling pleasantly buzzed, enough to start opening up.

"It's just… my line of work and relationships don't mix. People always get hurt or worse and… I'm just trying to protect him, you know?" Dean explained.

"Are you really doing it to protect him, or are you doing it to protect yourself from losing him?" Jack asked, looking at Dean seriously. Dean rubbed his forehead while pondering the question.

"Can't it be both?" Dean asked. Jack chuckled.

"I was in the same position as you were, once. My job has risks too. You have no idea how many people I've watched die, people I've loved and cared about." Jack said sadly.

It was then that Dean noticed Jack had the eyes of a veteran; they looked like they could tell a million stories of the horrors they'd seen and they bore the mark of Jack having aged beyond his years. Dean knew that look well; he saw it every time he looked in the mirror. Jack continued.

"I worked with this man, Ianto was his name. He died a few months back. I loved him, more than he knew, more than I ever told him. I had this stupid idea that if I kept it casual, didn't get too invested, that losing him would hurt less. It didn't. I can only hope that he knew how I felt, but I'll never know. You don't want to live with that, Dean. Take it from someone who knows, it's worth the risk." Jack finished and looked down, his expression blank. Dean placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry." said Dean sincerely. Jack looked up and gave him a small smile.

"Thanks." Jack said. He cleared his throat and changed the subject. "So, this guy of yours. What's he like?" Dean smiled.

"Cas is… Jesus, where do I even start… he's got this incredible heart. He's always thinking about helping other people and putting them first. Even when he fucks up- and trust me, he has big time- you know that his heart is always in the right place. He's really, I don't know, quirky I guess. He's got a really weird sense of humour and he doesn't get a lot of pop culture references. He's kind of awkward and really blunt too; if he has something to say, he says it. And he's got these eyes man, these blue eyes and when he stares at you- usually really close because he has no freakin' concept of personal space- it's like he's piercing your soul or some shit. He- and I know this sounds cheesy as hell- makes me feel a bit less broken." Dean said. Jack chuckled at Dean's lovesick expression.

"He sounds like a real angel." Jack said. Dean suddenly barked out a laugh. Jack raised an eyebrow. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, it's nothing." Dean assured him, still chuckling. Jack shrugged.

"Do you love him?" Jack asked, after a minute of silence. Dean looked slightly surprised, as if the question never really occurred to him.

"Yeah… Yeah, I do. And I'm probably going to hell for it." Dean said with a smirk, and Jack could have sworn he heard Dean mutter "again" under his breath.

"Tell him." Jack said, looking Dean directly in the eyes. Dean's brows furrowed for a moment in indecision, but then he thought of Jack and Ianto. He knew that if the number of days he and Cas spent together had an expiry date- pretty much a guarantee in the life of a hunter- he wanted to make the most of those days.

Making up his now much more sober mind, Dean stood up.

"You know, what? That's exactly what I'm gonna do. Thanks Jack, I owe you one." Dean said, sticking his hand out.

"Always happy to play the matchmaker, Dean." Jack said smiling, shaking Dean's hand. Dean smiled back and turned to go. He suddenly felt someone slap him on the ass. He whipped around, shooting a mock angry glare at Jack. Jack just sat there smirking.

"Go get him, tiger." Jack said, giving him a wink and a little salute. Dean rolled his eyes, laughing. He gave a small wave, and left the bar as Jack turned his attention back to the pretty bartender.


Dean entered the bunker quietly, not wanting to wake anyone. He crept to Cas' room and, seeing that his door was ajar, peeked inside expecting to be greeted with a sleeping figure. However, Cas was sitting up in bed under the covers, his knees drawn up to his chest. He seemed very lost in thought, and jolted in surprise when Dean entered the room.

"Dean, you're back!" he said, caught off guard.

"What, you waiting up for me or something?" Dean asked, chuckling.

"Yes." Cas replied immediately, his expression serious. Dean smiled tenderly at him and sat across from the former angel on the bed.

"Look, Cas… about before…" Dean started, but Cas interrupted.

"Dean, I have something to say." Cas said, his face taking on an air of determination. Dean raised an eyebrow slightly, but nodded for Cas to continue.

"I may not be an angel of the Lord anymore, but I assure you that I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I understand that I am no longer indestructible and I also understand that on some level that scares you, but Dean I will do everything humanly possible to never leave you. I know that my promises might not mean very much to you anymore, but it's the truth." Cas said, his eyes pleading.

"I know." replied Dean calmly. Cas looked surprised. Dean continued.

"Someone made it clear to me that I need to stop dwelling on what I've lost and start appreciating what I've still got left, and I plan on doing just that." Dean said before leaning forward and planting a soft kiss on the former angel's lips. It was a small and relatively chaste kiss, but it was everything Cas could have hoped for. After a minute, the two broke apart with matching grins. Dean ruffled Cas' hair and stood up to leave.

"'Night Cas." he said, turning his back and heading towards the door.

"Dean, wait!" Cas said, stopping Dean in his tracks. Dean turned back around to be met with the amusing sight of Cas with a slight blush to his cheeks. Cas took the corner of his bed covers and pulled them back. He looked up at Dean with a silent question in his eyes. Dean let out a little chuckle before shedding his extra layers and jeans, and crawled into bed with Cas. Dean pulled him closer to his side and pressed a kiss to his temple. Cas hummed with pleasure and it didn't take long for the pair to fall asleep.

And outside the room, a certain tall, long-haired little brother may or may not have punched the air in victory.

Author's Note: Hopefully you enjoyed it and didn't find it to be too OOC, feedback is most definitely appreciated! :)