Detroit

Dec. 5th, 2010 10:12 pm
delanach_dw: (Detroit Feather)
[personal profile] delanach_dw
Fic title: Detroit
Characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel, Michael, Bobby, Gabriel. Guest appearance by John Winchester
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 5343
Beta: [livejournal.com profile] seleneheart
Notes: AU from somewhere in the middle of season five. There are further notes at the end of the story. Written for the [livejournal.com profile] pictures2words challenge and inspired by [livejournal.com profile] inanna_maat's gorgeous art which can be found here.
Summary: Stuck in a tight spot, with Sam on the line, Dean goes with a backup plan his brother doesn't know anything about and says yes to Michael.





Dean said yes in Detroit.

It hadn’t been the original plan, but then the idea of taking out the devil while he was still in Nick’s every weakening body had been deeply flawed from the start. Desperation had driven them to a dark and broken part of the city where they knew Lucifer had paused in his campaign to make the world bow before him. Dean shivered when he saw that it was the same place he’d been to with his future self in his trip forward in time. And that’s when all hell broke loose.

Dean cursed. The son of a bitch had his brother, and he couldn’t let it happen, couldn‘t let Sam be blackmailed into agreeing.

“Yes!!” Dean screamed to the sky, his intent plain. He hoped that somewhere, the angel that wanted to wear him was listening and would get there in time. Sam would never forgive him, but the alternative was too painful to think on. Sam didn’t look good in white, and Dean always liked to have a backup plan.

Light filled him, burning him from inside out, bringing with it a pain he’d never known in all his years of hunting, and he screamed.

The being that filled Dean reached back to grasp the handle of the sword Castiel had helped him strap there earlier, and in two strides, he was there, his brother in front of him, eyes wide.

“Michael.”

“Lucifer.”

The sword slashed through the air, the sharp blade slicing through skin and muscle and bone. Lucifer’s already partly decayed vessel crumbled to the ground.

“Dean! No!”

The angel wearing his brother’s body walked to where Sam was standing. The demons that had held him fast had melted away, and Sam struggled against the ties that held his hands behind his back. Michael looked at him, looked into his eyes and saw the pain in the young man’s soul. His own eyes shone bright as emeralds with righteous power, but he gaze was soft, understanding.

“There was no other way. He knew that, and made the sacrifice willingly. He loved you, Sam.”

“No.” Sam shook his head, tears streaming down his face, and screamed at the angel in front of him. “NO!! You can’t have him! I could have … I would have been strong enough …”

“To control my brother?” Michael shook his head, sadness marring his perfect features. “No, Sam. He would have taken you and taken your strength and laid waste to heaven and hell and everything in between. He was my brother, and I loved him, but I could not allow that to happen.”

Sam let out a strangled sob and fell to his knees. After everything they had been through, he’d lost Dean again, and the grief tore at him. He felt a hand rest gently on his bowed head, could feel Dean’s callused thumb stroke his temple, but it wasn’t Dean, never would be Dean again. He wanted to wrench himself away from the touch, wanted to spit and howl at the angel, to tear him from his brother’s body, but he couldn’t move. Couldn’t stop himself from pushing up into the familiar touch one last time.

“So now what?” Sam mumbled without raising his head, unwilling to look up at the face that didn’t belong to Dean any more. “You do it instead? You give Zachariah what he wanted too? A clean slate?”

Michael chuckled, the sound deep and disturbingly reassuring, and Sam slowly looked up. Michael smiled down at him, beautiful and terrible, and Sam was taken aback how much like Dean the angel could be.

“This world, and the beings in it? This was my father’s best, most beloved creation. He gave you free will, he gave you the power to feel, from the most dark despair to the most incredible joy. This is what must be protected. I do not bow to the whims of those who would see this destroyed, be they demon, human or angel. I took the life of my own brother to protect the world. Do you really think Zachariah will escape his fate?”

Michael’s hand had slid down to cup Sam’s face as he spoke, and Sam felt a small jolt of power and the ties that held his wrists were gone.

“So … what now?” Sam asked with hesitation.

“Now, I have work to do. Your part in this is over, Sam.”

“What? No!” Sam surged to his feet, knocking away Michael’s hand.

Michael ignored him.

“Castiel?”

“I am here.” Castiel, who had been watching the exchange, took a step towards them.

Michael turned to him, and laid the heel of his palm on Castiel’s forehead. Castiel’s eyes widened and he took a deep breath as a glow pulsed visibly inside him for a moment then faded. Michael smiled at him.

“Welcome back.”

Castiel’s wide eyed gaze, almost rapturous, seemed to amuse the arch angel, and the crinkles at the corner’s of his eyes deepened as his smile widened.

“Your part in the fight is also finished.”

There was a moment of hesitation and Michael’s eyebrow’s rose, but Castiel let out a breath and answered.

“I understand.”

“There is work for you to do away from the field of battle.”

Castiel nodded and Michael turned to Sam.

“Take Sam to a place of safety and stay with him until this is over.”

Castiel nodded again as Sam raged.

“You can’t just send me away! I don’t care who you are, this is my fight too! I have to do this, I have to …”

“To what? Make amends? Atone for your sins? Sacrifice yourself needlessly because of your misplaced guilt?” Michael’s voice rose, edged with warning and Sam swallowed and took a step back. “Know this, Sam Winchester. Neither you nor your brother were to blame for this. You happened to be in the right place at the right time to be manipulated by those who work against my father. Do you know how many righteous men have found themselves in hell? How many have been deceived by demons into thinking they were doing the right thing? When humans were created and given free will, it was so they could make choices of their own and not be ruled by destiny, by fate. Both you and Dean made choices based on what you knew, what you were told, and those around you used you both. It is time to leave the guilt behind, Sam, time to face whatever comes with a heart free of despair.”

“But not free of grief.”

“That I cannot spare you from.” Michael shook his head. “Castiel?”

Sam’s vision was blurred with tears as Castiel approached him and reached out to touch him. He saw Michael raise his sword in salute, tried to imagine it was Dean looking at him with thanks in his eyes, and then they were gone.



Broken buildings and smoke hanging in the air were replaced by wooden walls and clear air.

“Where are we?”

“Montana. Deep in the mountains. There is food in the cupboards if you are hungry.”

“I’m not.” Sam looked around the cabin, eyes narrowing with suspicion. Without a word, he turned and strode towards the back of the cabin, pulling open a door to a bedroom with two beds already made up, and boxes in the corner. He pulled one box open and dropped the lid with shock. The last time he’d seen it was in John’s lock up. He ran his fingers along the windowsill, close to the window. The grainy surface confirmed his suspicions. There was salt in the paint.

Sam strode back out of the room, his anger building. He pulled the rugs on the floor aside to reveal devil’s traps in front of every door, and he’d know Dean’s work anywhere. There were toothbrushes and toothpaste and other supplies in the bathroom, and back in the main room, behind the couch, he found familiar bags filled with their clothes, and what shocked him most of all, his own pack with his laptop and John’s journal safely tucked inside.

“He knew!!” Sam roared at Castiel. “And you knew, you son of a bitch.” He lunged for the angel, but Castiel was too quick for him. “How long? How long was he lying to me?”

“He never lied to you about this place, Sam. It was your father’s bolt hole, he called it. He kept it ready and stocked in case he needed to bring you and Dean here. Dean found out about it when you spent some time apart months ago, and made it habitable again. He thought you both may have needed somewhere to retreat to. He asked me to bring you here if anything happened to him.”

“When did he know he was going to say yes, Cas? Our bags are here. I put my pack in the Impala’s trunk myself this morning.” Mention of Dean’s beloved car made Sam’s heart ache even more. He couldn’t think of it being back there in the middle of a war zone.

“I brought your things here as you approached Lucifer’s camp.”

Sam stared at him, demanding an answer to his question. Castiel sighed.

“It was a backup plan. He made the decision last night after he talked to Bobby.”

“Bobby knew too?” Sam’s voice cracked.

“No, he did not. And does not know about your brother’s fate.” the angel glanced at the radio on the dining table. It was Sam’s turn to sigh. “I can tell him myself, if you prefer?”

Sam shook his head.

“I’ll tell him. Soon.” Weariness hit him, and wrapped his arms around himself. “How can you keep me here if you can’t find me?” He asked with defiance.

“You no longer carry the sigils. Michael repaired your ribs.”

Sam snorted and opened the door, walking out onto the porch muttering to himself. “Great. Just …. Great.”

Castiel let him have time on his own. Later, he found him curled up on the old porch swing fast asleep and covered him with a blanket from a large chest in the bedroom. Then he sat on the railings and kept watch over the last of the Winchesters as Sam slept.



“What time is it?” Dean came round slowly, wondering how long he’d been sleeping. It felt like he’d been hit by a truck. Scratch that. Several trucks. He couldn’t remember when he’d gone to sleep, couldn’t remember much of anything. He tried to open his eyes, but nothing seemed to work and he panicked. “Sammy? You there, dude? What the fuck?”

“Dean Winchester.” It was less of a voice talking to him, more like a warmth surrounding him, communicating in a way that didn’t need actual words. “It is an honor to meet you.”

“It is? And who are you?”

“My name is Michael.”

Memories of being possessed by the angel slammed into Dean, and he screamed his way back into oblivion.



Sam spent his first day of captivity trying to get away anyway, just to be angeled back every time he got down into the woods below the cabin.

The next day he spent a whole morning yelling at Cas. For betraying him, for lying to him, for anything he could think of. The angel stood and took it until at last Sam screamed at him.

“Do something! Anything! Get mad, get upset, yell back, anything just … something, Cas, please. He would … he would shout back.” Sam stormed out and Cas let him get a little further before he brought him back.

Day three, Sam sat out on the porch swing, staring out over the trees. He was startled and somewhat amazed when Castiel made him a mug of chamomile tea and took it out to him. He wrapped his hands around the warmth of the mug and scooted across so Cas could sit down too. Then they spent the rest of the afternoon silently looking out across the mountains together until the sun set.

On the fourth day, Sam sat down at the dining table and pushed one of the other chairs out, motioning for Cas to join him.

“How’s it going?”

Castiel looked at Sam, then off into the corner of the room.

“Michael has successfully crushed Lucifer’s main forces. Now he, with Gabriel and Raphael at his side, are closing in on Zachariah and his followers.”

Sam nodded grimly, and pulled out his laptop, opening it for the first time since they’d arrived. There was a document on his desktop he knew hadn’t been there the last time he’d used it simply titled “Sam”. He resolutely ignored it, and went about testing the satellite connection out. Took him a while, but eventually he latched onto a signal and felt that much better knowing he could at least contact the outside world. He emailed Bobby and Chuck, and got more depressed at the number of people he wanted to contact but who weren’t around anymore.

Then he hit the news sites and watched and read articles that twisted what happened in Detroit and the rest of the country into explainable events. After a few hours, he closed the laptop down, still not willing to open the file he knew was from his brother.

Day five, Sam began writing down what really happened. His fingers flew over the keys, making sure that dates, places and those who had fallen would not be forgotten, not by him, and not by anyone who would eventually read what he was writing. One way or another, even if it read to most of the world as fiction, he was determined that the truth would be published for all to read.

At four in the afternoon, Castiel made Sam what had become his regular mug of tea, and sat down across from him.

“Zachariah has fallen. Michael is dealing with the last of his followers.”

Sam took satisfaction in knowing that the angel who had played Dean was gone. “What happens next?”

“Any demons that remain on earth will be destroyed.”

“He can do that?” Sam was a little in awe at the power the archangel must wield.

“He can.” There was a wistful longing in Castiel’s voice and Sam realized he wasn’t the only one who’d been ordered to sit it out.

“Sorry, that you can’t be part of it. That you have to baby sit me.”

“This is my part of it, keeping you safe. I am content with that.”

“You could have said no. You’ve rebelled in the past, so why obey now?”

“I made promises to my brother and to yours. Those I could not break.”

Sam sighed and went back to work.

The next day was the same, and Sam’s eyes were tired by the time Castiel brought his tea. The next time the angel approached him, it was midnight, and Sam looked up, bleary eyed.

“It is over.”

Sam thought the news would bring him some comfort, but it didn’t. He closed the laptop and went to bed, heart heavier than ever.

The following morning, he got up as the sun was rising and stared at the screen of the laptop. He drew his finger over the touch pad, dragging the mouse slowly across the screen to the file with his name on it, and clicked it open.

Sam,

If you’re reading this, I know you’re pissed at me right now, and I get it. I would be too if you’d done the same to me.

I’m hoping you’re in the middle of nowhere, Montana making Cas’s life a misery, not that he deserves it, but I’m guessing you won’t be happy about staying put. Just gotta deal with it, bro, you’ll be free soon enough.

Now here’s the chick flick part.

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I didn’t lie to you either. I needed a backup plan, and if I had to use it, I hope it worked.

I want you to live your life, Sammy, whether you keep hunting or not. Don’t look back, don’t think on what might have been, and there isn’t going to be anyone left to get revenge on, so I’m gonna come back and haunt your ass if you decide to go off on any suicide missions.

Take care of Bobby. Look in on Chuck now and then, make sure he’s not doing anything too sleazy with our life stories, and make sure Cas is okay. I know he’s an angel, but he’s not used to being around people.

Know that I love you, and if there’d been any other way, I would never have left.

Dean



Sam wiped a hand across his eyes and went outside to stand on the porch. He felt Cas arrive a few minutes later.

“He really did save the world, didn’t he.”

“Yes.”

Sam sighed. “Can I go now?”

“No.”

“Cas! Why not? It’s over, you said so yourself.”

“I am under orders to keep you safe here until Michael tells me otherwise.”

“What if he’s forgotten about me? I mean, it’s not exactly like he hasn’t had a lot of important stuff to think about.”

“He has not forgotten you.”

“Great.” Sam stomped off.

Castiel let him get some of the anger out of his system before he brought him back.



Next time Dean woke, he was sitting in a chair, body seemingly intact but when he checked for a pulse, there wasn’t one to be found. He got to his feet, realizing he recognized where he was. The garage John had partly owned before the fire. Dean had played there sometimes when he was a kid, when it was a slack day and John had time to watch him. His Dad had shown him how engines worked, and even though at three and four he hadn’t done anything but look, the time spent here had sparked his love of cars. Dean wandered over to the familiar work bench and touched the tools that lay there.

“Hey kiddo.”

Dean’s head whipped round and his eyes widened. John Winchester stood in the doorway, a smile on his face.

“Dad?” Dean’s voice was little more than a whisper. “Is it really you?”

“Yeah, Dean. It’s me.” He walked towards his son and as soon as he was close enough, Dean flung himself into his arms, unashamedly needing the comfort of his father, just like he had when he was four.

“I’ve missed you so much, Dad.” Dean sobbed out and John held him until he was done, rubbing comforting circles on his back.

Dean eventually pulled away, a little embarrassed, but John just smiled and patted his shoulder.

“Come and sit down. We need to talk.”

Dean followed but before they sat down he was asking about his brother.

“Dad, is Sammy okay? Is he …? Did he make it?”

“Sammy’s safe in Montana, like you planned.”

Dean breathed an unnecessary sigh of relief and nodded.

“And you? And Mom? Are you okay? Is Mom here?”

“Slow down, Dean. I’m fine, so is your mother. You don’t have to worry about us anymore. How much do you remember about what happened with Lucifer and Michael?”

Dean was about to say not much, but he opened himself to a flood of memories that were lurking in his mind, and gasped as they filled him. He’d said yes to Michael, let the angel in on the understanding his brother and Cas would be safe. The angel had taken him, and then everything was reduced to dreamlike recollections, as if he were watching himself go through what happened through a dark haze. Sam and Cas were sent away, and Michael swept through the country, smiting Lucifer’s armies wherever they had gathered.

He hunted down Zachariah and his followers and took them out with a satisfaction that echoed Dean’s own. And he wasn’t alone. Michael’s brothers stood with him again. Dean recognized Gabriel as he came to Michael’s side. They embraced and went on to destroy every demon who remained on the earth. Then, as Dean watched, Michael gathered the host of Heaven around him, and freed them of any earthly obligation, letting them return home to the welcoming arms of their father.

Once he was alone, Michael had returned to Detroit. He found the remains of Lucifer’s vessel, and burned them to dust, standing watch as the flames licked high into the sky. It was symbolic, he knew that. His brother was gone and all remained was the empty shell of a broken man who’d given in to despair.

And then there was only one thing left to do. He walked from the place, retracing his vessel’s steps until he stood by a black car. He opened the back door, climbed inside and lay down.

“I don’t remember anything after that.”

“What you did … you saved the world, Dean. There aren’t words to tell you how proud I am of you.” He put his hand on Dean’s neck and they looked at each other, both tearing up. “And I am, son, so very proud.”

Dean smiled awkwardly, ducking his head with embarrassment.

“The man upstairs is proud of you too.”

“You talking about God?”

“I am. And he wants to give you a reward for what you did.”

“He does?”

“Anything you want.”

“Anything?”

“Yes.”

Dean pondered. He could ask to go back, but there was something else that he wanted more. He wondered if he’d be pushing his luck.

“There’s two things.”

“Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”

“I want Bobby to be able to walk again.”

John nodded and his eyes glazed over, as if he were listening to something Dean couldn’t hear.

“Done.”

“Really?”

“Really. What’s the other thing?”

“I want … I want Sammy to be happy.”

“That’s a tall order, happiness, but I’ll see what I can do.”

Again, it was as if John was hearing a conversation off stage, and Dean waited. The hint of a smile touched the corners of John’s mouth, and then he was back with Dean.

“That’s a harder one, but you got it.”

“Thanks.” Dean smiled, and looked upwards, wondering if their whole conversation was being listened to. “So what happens now? Do I go with you? Are you the welcoming committee?”

“Well, I was, but it seems there’s something left for you to do.” John grinned and squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll see you around, Dean.”

“Dad? Wait! What do I have to do?”

But the garage was already fading away, and Dean was already slipping out of consciousness when John answered him with a smile.


Bobby woke up and stretched, his toes peeking out of the quilt into a cold morning. He wiggled them and pulled them back under the covers then shot upright, staring down at where the quilt still covered his legs.

He’d wiggled his toes. With great trepidation, he pulled the quilt back and tried to do it again, realizing that he could feel the fabric slipping over his skin. He wiggled his toes, moved his feet, and slowly, bent his knees. A rush of joy hit him and he swallowed against the tears that threatened.

He swung his legs out of bed, anticipating weakness since the muscles had gone unused for months, but he stood strong and tall.

“How the hell?” He muttered to himself and dressed quickly. What if it was temporary, he wondered to himself. Research, before he told Sam he needed to find out why he could suddenly walk again.

When he got downstairs, he skipped into the kitchen coloring up at how much Dean would have teased him if he’d seen it. A sadness that was still new clenched his heart. Dean would never tease him about anything again. He turned to go and consult his books, suddenly no longer hungry, but he found the way blocked by a small man munching on a chocolate bar.

“Hey Bobby, grab your coat. We’ve got places to be.”

“Who the hell are you?”

Gabriel snorted.

“Hell hasn’t got a lot to do with it, bucko, now get your coat.”

“Not until you tell me who you are.”

Gabriel sighed. “You’re just as stubborn as they are. I‘m Gabriel.” Bobby’s jacket appeared in his hands. Gabriel eyed him. “Do you sleep in that hat?”

A flustered Bobby didn’t have time to answer before the archangel clicked his fingers and they weren’t in the kitchen anymore, they were standing on the edge of what looked like a battle zone. Bobby did a double take when he saw the Impala close by.

“Michael hopes you enjoy the legs and wonders if you could drive Dean to Sam? Castiel’s got his hands full right now and I’ve got places to be.” The small man touched Bobby’s forehead and Bobby sprang back. “There, now you know the way.“

“Dean?”

“Yes, you know Dean? Tall, but not as tall as his brother? Thinks he’s a really funny guy?”

“But …”

“See, most people, when told they can have anything they want, generally ask for something for themselves, but not Dean.” Gabriel glanced down at Bobby’s legs and Bobby’s eyes widened in understanding. “It’s an attitude my Father appreciates. The second part was more complicated, so in order to fulfill it, we gave him something anyway. It’ll take him a while to heal. Putting him back together after an archangel rode him was a tough gig, but he’s almost there.”

Bobby walked over to the car and peered through the window. Dean was curled up on the back seat. When he looked back over his shoulder, they were all in the mountains, Detroit left far behind. Gabriel smirked at him.

“Now you haven’t got so far to go. Tell the boys I’ll see them around.” He clicked his fingers and was gone, leaving behind an empty candy wrapper.



The next day a there was a storm, which messed with Sam’s internet connection and sent dark clouds rolling across the mountains. Sam resolutely stuck to his work schedule, stopping only to eat, and to sip his tea.

It was mid afternoon before the rain let up and the sun lit up the whole landscape.

Castiel suggested that Sam take a break from writing and take his tea out on the porch, and they sat in their customary silence. As he held the warm mug in his hands and admired the washed clean landscape, an unexpected sound could be heard coming from lower down the mountain. It got louder as it got nearer, and Sam put the mug down. It also sounded very familiar.

“Cas? You hear that?”

“Yes.”

Now he was certain. He’d know the sound of that engine anywhere.

“It’s the Impala.”

“Yes.”

“Cas, now isn’t the time for one word answers.”

Sam was on his feet, his heart pounding, as the hood of the car came into view through the trees. As it got closer, he could see Bobby behind the wheel, with a shit eating grin on his face.

“B … Bobby?”

The older hunter got out of the car as soon as he’d switched the engine off, and walked towards Sam. Walked.

“Hey Sam.”

“You can … you’re walking again!” He hugged Bobby tightly, and Bobby patted him on the back. “How?”

“There’s someone else you should ask about that.”

“Who? Cas? He’s not exactly the talkative type.”

“No, not Cas. Oh, I left something on the front seat. Could you fetch it for me?”

“Um, yeah, sure.” Sam eyed Bobby and walked over to the car, not feeling ready to see it again so soon after losing Dean. He pulled open the passenger side door before looking in and when he did his knees buckled. Curled up on the seat under a blanket was his brother.

“Dean?” He whispered, thinking for one moment that Bobby had driven his body up to the cabin for cremation, but then Dean moved. “Dean!!”

Dean’s eyes cracked open and he smiled.

“Sammy.”

Bobby came up behind Sam and squeezed his shoulder.

“Let’s get him inside to bed first, then we’ll talk.”

“It’s really him?”

Bobby nodded. Sam pulled Dean out of the car, and carried him into the cabin and through to the bedroom, laying him down on the bed and pulling his boots off before covering him with the quilt. Dean murmured appreciatively and snuggled down to sleep.

Bobby held the door open for Sam, but Sam shook his head.

“I’m staying right here.”

Castiel dragged through a couple of chairs and made tea for all of them, including himself.

“I want to know how.” Sam was blunt and to the point.

Bobby told him what Gabriel had told him, that Dean hadn’t asked for anything for himself, so Bobby got to walk again, and Dean was given a reward because he hadn’t asked for one, and that there was more to it, but Gabriel hadn’t told him what.

“Cas?” Sam and Bobby both turned to look at him.

“Dean asked for two things. For Bobby to walk again, and for you to be happy, Sam. Giving him back to you was judged to be the best way to make that happen.”

Sam looked down at his brother and then stormed from the room. Castiel stood up to follow him, but Bobby stopped him.

“Best let him be for a while, son.”

“But he does not seem very happy.”

Bobby snorted. “Give it time.”

Sam spent two hours sitting in the Impala’s passenger seat, overwhelmed that Dean was back and almost reluctant to go back inside in case his apparent lack of happiness meant Dean would be taken away again.

By that time, Bobby was asleep on the couch and Cas was sitting at the dining table eyeing the laptop.

“What happens now?” Sam asked.

“It will take a while for him to become what he was before Michael took him. His body and mind are beyond exhaustion, but he will be fine and he will live out the rest of a natural life.”

Sam nodded, relieved there weren’t any get out clauses.

“It may be wise to stay here until he feels ready to move on.”

Sam nodded again, and walked towards the bedroom.

“Night Cas.”

“Goodnight, Sam.”

Sam stripped down to his underwear, and slipped under the covers with Dean. His brother immediately curled around him with a happy sigh. And as Sam let himself relax, surrounded by Dean, he felt a rumble as Dean murmured against his throat.

“Dad says hi.”



Six weeks later, Dean was back up to full strength and raring to get back out on the hunt. Although Michael had killed all the demons left on earth, there were still restless spirits and fugly monsters that needed to be dealt with.

Sam and Dean had been out for a run, and arrived back at the cabin, with Sam in the lead.

They came to a halt, both smiling at each other.

“So you feeling okay?”

“Never better. Back to my old self, fit, well rested. Yeah, I’m good.”

“Yeah? You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Why …?” Dean’s question was cut off by Sam’s fist snapping forward and catching him square on the nose, knocking his head back. “What the hell was that for?” Dean cradled his bloody nose and glared at Sam.

“THAT was for not telling me what you were gonna do in Detroit! Asshole!” Sam yelled.

“What? You’re still pissed about that?’

“Damn straight I’m still pissed.” Sam strode up the steps to the cabin door and slammed it behind him.

“Jesus.”

Castiel gave him a tissue.

“What the hell was that?” Dean asked the angel.

“That has been, I think you would say, a long time coming?”

Dean glared at him, certain he saw Castiel smirk before he left with a flutter of wings, leaving Dean to deal with his pissed off little brother by himself.

He walked up the steps and opened the door carefully.

“Okay, Sam, let’s talk about this like adults.”

Something told him it wasn’t going to be that easy.



AUTHOR’S NOTES

Thanks to [livejournal.com profile] azraelz_angel for running the challenge :)

And thanks and big hugs to [livejournal.com profile] inanna_maat for such lovely art to work with.

I guess this is my idea of how season five could have ended if Dean had said yes.


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