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Okay, Cas, I'm just gonna talk.
Pray.
Yeah, you know, talking is actually much more my thing. Yes, it is. Don't make that face, you know the one. Talking feels less silly.
All right. No, it doesn't, I'm out here by my-fucking-self, man. It's my fault, yes, and yet. If a tree falls in a forest and no-one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? If a guy is talking to his best friend when that -- what'd you call yourself once? Celestial wavelength of intent? -- angel is, like, no more than twenty miles away, will that angel get his feathered ass over here already?
Sorry. Sorry. I'm. It's fucking cold. I keep thinking about shit that's already happened. Stuff I've already said.
Stuff I haven't.
Glitch in the matrix or some shit. If this is the episode's big dream sequence, the budget must be fifty cents and a pack of smokes.
Can't feel my fingers at the moment, or I'd get out my lighter. Not to smoke, of course, never got into that except a few times as a teenager. Lighting my hands on fire sounds like a plan, though, damn. But you see the problem, right, Cas? My hands are frozen, can barely move 'em. I'd fumble the lighter into one of these fucking snowbanks soon as I'd try to get it out of my jacket pocket, and then, no fires.
And there is nothing, I mean not a single damn thing, around that isn't covered in snow.
No, no, you're right. Third degree burns're probably not much better than frostbite. Potato, pah-tah-toe. I love potatoes, man, I wish I'd stolen twice as many fries off your plate last night.
I wish I'd--
Hooboy. Jesus. Shouldn't hurt this bad to take a deep breath. I get that.
Okay, here's the thing.
…Here's one of the things.
It wasn't anyone else's responsibility but mine. I let 'im go, I'm the one needed to gank 'im. Behead 'im. Whatever. I'm the genius who made the call he was fine. Little splish-splash of chimera blood, wipes right off? Everyone else, the whole nest, obvious we'd take 'em out, and we did, and this guy, I thought. I really thought he wasn't infected.
I guess I wanted someone to walk out of there alive. Other than me, I mean.
But yeah. Yeah. He, uh. He was definitely. He was already gone when I arrived. I don't know…maybe if I'd figured it out earlier, what he was really saying… The message he left that admin at the hospital…
We were lucky he had the presence of mind not to hurt anyone when he was in town. The strength or whatever. To hold it back -- the, uh. What'd you call it? The prey drive.
Not that… By the time I got to the shack, he. He wasn't himself anymore, whoever he was.
Why these monsters gotta always choose these fucking shacks in the woods, I'm asking. Converted outhouse: I'm telling you, Cas, the place was five sticks held together with spit and spiderweb. And he wasn't even shivering. All that fur.
Yes. Okay. You're wondering. I would be too. Yes, he had claws.
Don't give me that look.
It had to be done. And if I'd taken Baby, she's the one whose brake line he would've cut and tires he would've slashed. We'll steal you a new truck, Cas, don't worry about it.
It is fuck. Ing. Brutal. Out here. I don't mind telling you. My face feels like that fire I'm not gonna be able to set.
I know you can't just wing it over here and blip us back to the motel. Fuck. I didn't mean to mention-- I'm saying. I know you'd be here if you could be.
If Jack could, even. Do not send the kid out here. I'm serious, we're not risking his soul on me. Talk about a lousy return on your investment. Absolute shit risk/reward ratio.
Next time we're at a goddamn dive where every television is airing fucking CNBC, buddy, that's gonna be the sign that something is one million percent wrong with that town. Or at least that dive. Good fries, though, I hate to go and on about 'em, but gettin' 'em crisp like that, and creamy inside, it's a real skill.
Comfy booth. Cozy, I guess you'd call it. Little votive candle on the table and all that. You and me and two decent cheeseburgers and fries.
I wanted--
Well. Isn't important.
Shit. Shit, I gotta sit down.
This forest just keeps going, I swear I thought there was a path through here out to the road? It looked like there'd be one when I was on the road, so. Didn't seem this far, driving in. And now it's like, what road? But it makes sense there wouldn't be much traffic out in this. I don't know if this qualifies as a blizzard, but it's close enough to suck.
Phone's dead, of course, pretty certain you figured that out already. Maybe Sam's tracking it anyway? Honestly don't remember if that's a doable thing if the battery's kaput. Maybe it'll show the last place I was? You know that already, though, yeah? Yeah. So I'm not worryin', you'll know where to start looking.
Leavin' a real clear trail behind me too, 'cause I am just cutting through this snow like a champ, these boots are made for walking, I can't feel my feet but they are still down there at the bottom of my legs, doin' their thing.
Oh. Okay, so maybe it is-- It's, uh. The snow behind me. Must be coming down faster or something. Not leaving… I'm not leaving much of a path. No worries, though, I'm gonna be to the road soon.
I'm gonna…
All right. All right, yes. I'm sitting down. I'm picking a tree and I'm sitting down.
Jesus, it's cold.
Hey, while I'm thinking about it. I don't know why I'm thinking about it, really, it just came to mind 'cause what else is there to think about out here. Pine trees? They smell great. I'm admiring this one up close and personal. It smells like a Christmas candle, probably's got a hundred squirrels living it in.
But back to, you know, whatever I was saying. So, that deal you made with the Empty? The one you didn't tell us about for weeks and weeks. Not that I'm still…a tiny bit annoyed about you not telling us or anything. That one. The deal we broke. Remember that? Big terrifying mess of a spell, Rowena, Sam, Jack and me bleeding into a bowl?
This isn't a guilt trip, I swear. Spell worked. If it hadn't, we'd have tried something else. Absolutely no reason for you to go around with that fucking sword of Damocles hovering over you. Thanks for healing up my hand, by the way.
My hands are as blue as your eyes right now. Ha. That's. Probably not great. Forget about it.
My point is.
Huh. I don't remember.
Oh. Oh, yeah. I was going to ask, earlier. I. I really wanted to ask. Maybe it's none of my business, but I was going to say.
I mean. You acted like the Empty wasn't gonna have a reason to take you for ages. Forever, maybe. Like it was such an impossibility, that you might be happy one day. Which, considering that the Empty itself was threatening to yank you into eternal nightmare sleep if you--
Okay, you know what. Never mind. I can understand how you might've thought happiness was, uh, going to be hard to come by.
It's just.
Shit, man. I really hate that for you. Hated. 'Cause we fixed it, but I'm saying, the idea of it. That you thought you'd never have even a second of pure happiness?
That's grim as hell, buddy, and I am sitting in the middle of fuckall nowhere in a blizzard with this hole in my side and Smurf hands and even I feel happier than your deal sounds.
Sounded.
There wasn't-- There wasn't anything you thought might make you happy?
The deal lurking there, yes, but like. It's like maybe even if the deal hadn't happened, you still wouldn't have seen even the potential to be happy?
That's. That's so fucked up, Cas.
It's fucking devastating.
You. You deserve so much better than that. You deserve-- Listen, what do people always say the experts say makes us happy? Not that I've ever paid that much attention to the experts 'cause how hard could it be to be happy? Warm roof over your head. Job that doesn't suck. Enough money in the bank to cover expenses and maybe a vacation every once in a while.
Friends. Yeah. Good friends, people who care about you and you care about them and you take care of each other. Family. The one you were born to or the one you make.
Compassion. People who make you laugh and make you feel welcome. Make you feel loved. People who actually, in fact, love you. Not 'cause you're doing something for them but because you're kind, and funny, and gentle.
Amazing, really. Miraculous.
And grouchy. You are absolutely so incredibly grouchy sometimes, I am assuming this is one of those times, yes. Stop yelling. Just. Listen.
I wish you were here, but then I always wish you were here. It'd be handy as hell at this very moment, which isn't-- Isn't the point either. It's almost embarrassing. I should be embarrassed -- you've saved me so many times, over and over.
You've saved me in so many ways, I can't--
I hardly even know where to start, Cas. Which has really. Has really become a problem, lately. Well. Not super recently. Only in the last, um. Seven or eight years. Nine, tops.
It's just. For most of that -- listen, I know this sounds nuts, and I apologize for that -- I didn't.
Hoo. Hoooo-boy.
I didn't know.
What I felt, I mean.
The depth of it. What it meant, when you were gone and I… I never handled it very well. Yeah, I'm not great when you're…
When you were…
Fuck.
And I never…
I should've told you, Cas. I should've shown you, what you mean to me.
I should've held you.
That's all…that's all I've wanted most, the last few…
Well. Guess it's a little too late.
Okay.
You gotta promise me. You'll take care of yourself. And Jack. And, and Mom and Sammy, shit, shit. Shit. Cas. I'm sorry to put this on you. I'm so sorry.
It's beautiful here, Cas. The sun's going down and everything is still so bright, that way the sky gets when what's left of the light is reflecting off all the white, so peaceful except for, ha, there's a flock of cardinals off a ways, bursting up into the sky. All this snow -- it's a wonderland.
We, you and me: we could've been the thing that made you happy, Cas. I know it. I wish we had more time.
I love y--
-
"My brother and my friends are overprotective," Dean explained to Wanda, who continued removing the needle from the back of his hand. "I hate to waste resources."
The nurse gave him a long, unimpressed look. She capped the needle and shoved it in the receptacle on the wall near the tiny sink. Must've decided he didn't warrant a band-aid. There was only the barest mark left below one of his knuckles; her phlebotomy game had been superb.
"You need to pee?" she asked flatly, snapping off her latex gloves.
Dean considered the question. His body told him the answer was no.
"See, we ran in two bags, pretty slowly in case you passed out again. If you weren't badly dehydrated, you'd probably need to take a leak by now." The nurse picked up a clipboard and unclipped a couple of print outs. "You're extremely, astronomically lucky, in case no-one's mentioned that."
"Yeah, I--"
"Blizzards are no laughing matter around here, Mr. Jagger."
"Got it."
"Might want to look into taking advantage of some of these after-Christmas sales going on," Wanda continued. She gave him another level look. "What with you ripping your shirt on a tree branch and all."
Dean looked down at the ragged tear in his henley and the peek of his ribcage that showed no sign of trauma through the hole. He grinned quick. "Good idea."
Wanda, fooled not in the least, handed him the papers. "Give those to the nurse at the check-out window."
When Dean exited into the waiting room, Sam stood up, his expression pinched and nearly sallow. Dean didn't smile, since he didn't want to provoke a fistfight in amongst the moms with coughing children and the elderly folks who looked like their pain meds had worn off. Through the glass double doors he could see Cas and Jack standing just outside on the sidewalk as snow flurries fluttered around them in lamp light. He floated far above his feelings about them…or anything else.
He stared at Cas's hunched shoulders until he could speak out loud.
"You know they still use cocaine in some surgical procedures?" he asked Sam, with as much neutrality in his tone as he could muster. "A real perk of needing a knee scoped."
Sam squared his jaw. "Do you need a knee scoped?"
"Nah." Dean shot him some finger guns and breezed past. "I'm right as rain."
-
He didn't much register the car ride back to the motel, but then, he hadn't much registered the car ride to the immediate care clinic, except to note that he was surprisingly not dead.
Nothing out there but a bunch of snow, anyhow.
-
"My soul is fine, Dean," he heard Jack say.
The way Jack said it made Dean open his eyes.
Jack's mouth and little hand wave said, "Hello," and his expression said, Stop making me repeat myself.
The motel ceiling needed to be painted. Someone had patched up part of it inexpertly. A water stain left behind was the shape of Florida, or maybe just a flacid dick. Either way, neither comforting nor arousing.
"I'm supposed to keep you from standing up too quickly, falling down, and bashing your skull open on the nightstand." Jack sounded way too cheerful. "If you did knock yourself unconscious, there was some debate about whether or not this would improve your personality or decision making abilities, but it was decided you didn't need to incur more blood loss, especially if the motel charged extra for carpet damage."
Dean sat up slowly and flexed his hands. They were such a normal color.
"I'm sensing some latent hostility from people who aren't even in the room," he said.
"Oh, yes," Jack said, "Sam in particular is very, very upset with you." He helped Dean wad another pillow behind his back. "He's gone to fetch some food."
Dean swallowed. Took a moment to smooth the blanket at his waist. He looked up to find Jack waiting patiently.
"And Cas?" Dean asked, in a small voice.
Jack smiled with one corner of his mouth. "He healed you. You probably knew that. I was just the transport. Of a sort."
"Like a chauffeur, huh," Dean rasped.
"Exactly." Jack smiled more widely. "He's taking a shower in the other bathroom." He cocked his head. "He's probably about done by now. I don't hear the water running."
Throat burning, Dean nodded.
"I'm going to go check," Jack said. He left through the adjoining door.
Dean must have closed his eyes, and some brief period of time must have elapsed, to make it so that he was pulled back to himself by the dip of the mattress as Cas climbed onto it beside him.
Cas's hair was damp, a little messy. He looked pale, weary, worn, with dark eyes, and trembling hands that curled around Dean's.
He looked better than anything Dean had ever seen.
Dean clutched at his hands. He felt tears drip onto his cheeks and didn't bother to wipe them away.
He kissed Cas's wet cheek, tasted salt.
"If you ever do that--" Cas whispered, voice breaking off, hoarse like he'd screamed the heavens down.
"I know," Dean said.
He thumbed tears out from under Cas's eyes and kissed his temple, and beside his eye, and his forehead, and his mouth. And his mouth and his mouth and his mouth.
Cas sighed kissing him back, pulling him as close as possible.
Dean tucked himself into his arms and let Cas save him again.