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Dean Winchester was a study in contradictions. He was a brash, self assured man’s man, who drank, drove, loved and lived hard. He was also a son, a brother, and, right now, his family’s sole source of income, which was why he was driving his beloved ‘67 Impala around the city streets, cell phone clipped to the dash, picking up passengers as a contract driver. The pay wasn’t much, but when he turned on the charm, the tips were pretty damned good. He had a 4.9 rating (he’d have a solid 5 if it hadn’t been for the occasional jealous boyfriends or girlfriends who couldn’t tell the difference between natural charisma and flirtation…) and he had a host of regular clients. Right now, however, all of those faithful riders were inside, out of the driving rain, and he was cruising around, competing with every other driver for the dwindling number of people still out and about this close to midnight.
An hour ago, it had been easy pickings- the theater had standing room only crowds this week, with lines around the block and ticket scalpers three deep on the sidewalk. Now, the streets were empty, pavement gleaming in the rain. He’d already worked a full day at the garage before going home, showering, grabbing the sandwich Sammy had made for him, and heading out the door again. By now, he’d been awake for 19 hours, wouldn’t be in bed until after midnight, and needed to be up again at 5 am.
He never questioned if it was worth it, though. Sammy was on track to be the high school valedictorian, and was a shoo-in for college scholarships, but in the meantime there was still rent, food, utilities and Dad . John Winchester had worn his body out hunting the monster who’d killed his wife, but revenge didn’t come with a pension, and health insurance for a forty-seven year old man with a bad back, bad hips, bad knees and a seriously bad attitude didn’t come cheap. Dean’s two jobs kept them afloat, but it was always a challenge to make the money stretch to the end of the month.
Sammy had offered to get an after school job and Dean had locked THAT shit down immediately.
“No fucking way, Sammy! You need to do what you do best- use that giant brain of yours to stay on top at school so you can get a free ride to college. You wanna throw that away for some minimum wage job flipping burgers, just so I can sit around drinking beer and watching TV after work? Not on my watch. You stay in all your after-school nerd clubs and let me worry about the money, got that?”
Sam hadn’t gotten it, and they still had the same fight every time a shut off notice came in the mail.
Truthfully, Dean didn’t mind his second job, and prided himself on tailoring his ride to the people paying him. For excited tourists, he narrated the drive, pointing out landmarks and telling amusing (or salacious) stories about the city’s history while they rode. For the uptight business types, he shut up and pretended he was a Secret Service agent, driving the head of some incredibly important government agency to a classified meeting, probably something to do with nuclear secrets and world peace. Regardless of the passenger, however, he kept the music on. He’d turn it down, if requested, but his bio made it clear-”Dean W. Driving since 2021. Rating 4.9 from 214 passengers. 1967 Chevrolet Impala. Classic Ride, Classic Rock!” Normally the company insisted the vehicles be less than 15 years old, but recently they’d branched out, and offered the option of a ride in a vintage car. His buddy Nick drove a 1960 Corvette and had no problem finding people whose bucket list included a drive around the city in a bright red convertible while The Beach Boys blared from the speakers.
Hey, it paid the bills.
Some of them, at any rate, which is why he was the perfect man for the job he was about to be offered.
Dean was more than ready to call it a night when he got a ping. Single rider, pickup on the corner of 38th and Walnut, then a nice ride south out of the city, which meant Dean would be driving most of the way home on the customer’s dime.
He took a quick glance at the guy’s profile- a 4.8 rating, good tipper, no red flags. The company didn’t list subgenders for either drivers or customers, but Dean wore blockers, and kept a number 22 Stillson pipe wrench under the passenger seat, just in case. He’d never had a problem- he didn’t look like anyone’s idea of a pushover, and the few Alphas who got off on harassing omegas weren’t going to mess with one who could put them through a wall without breaking a sweat. Dad and Bobby, bless their crusty, desiccated hearts, had never seen any point in treating Dean like some delicate hothouse flower, so he’d been raised to be a fighter. And if there were Alphas out there who didn’t like it, their disapproval wasn’t keeping Dean awake at night.
Pulling up at the curb, Dean leaned over and rolled down the window. “Are you Gabriel?”
“Deano?” The man who slid into the back seat was on the small side, with dancing eyes and an air of mischief. Dean hoped he wasn’t going to be the type to tell bad jokes the whole ride.
“So, what’s a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?”
“The car?”
“The city, moron. C’mon, work with me here. You’re clearly young, hot, and driving a car that screams “let’s have sex in the back seat” and yet you’re content to drive assholes like me around for a living?”
What the hell, this guy didn’t lack for balls, but he also had no sense of personal boundaries. “What I do with my life is none of your business, and if you touch me, I’ll break your arm.”
“Whoa, whoa, hold on!” Gabriel sat back on the seat, arms spread and hands open, as if to show he had nothing to hide. “I’m not gonna kidnap you and sell you to some sex ring…” His eyes narrowed “although I’d get a pretty good price. No, Deano, tonight is your lucky night. I’m gonna offer you a job.”
“Sorry, pal, still not biting. I wouldn’t be carting douchebags like you around for a stipend and tips if I wanted to make a living selling my ass.”
“Shame. I’ll bet it’s a nice ass. Good thing I’m not looking for a fuck; I’m looking for a driver.”
“Yeah, and you got one.”
“Not for me, for my brother. He’s kind of a… recluse, I guess you’d say. I pay someone to take him out for a drive every night, but my usual guy is retiring, and I need to hire someone new. It’s a long term gig, every night if possible, from midnight to 1 am. You pick him up, you drive him around the block for an hour, you drop him off, you leave. For that, you get 75 bucks a night.”
“Bullshit.”
No bullshit. Look, my brother’s got some problems. He only goes out at night, and he’s terrified of going too far from home. He’s not much for conversation, and he always wears the same clothes.”
“Jeez, he must stink!”
“He doesn’t. He owns multiples of the same outfit. It’s an OCD kind of thing…has to have the same clothes, same routine, same driver, same time, same route.“
Dean thought about it. He needed the money; they needed the money. If he did this, every night, he’d more than cover the rent on the crappy little duplex they lived in. His paycheck from the garage could go to the other bills, and the money he made driving everyone else could go into savings. It might be nice, for once in his life, to have something put away in case of emergencies.
“What’s the catch?”
“Catch? There’s no catch.” Glancing up into the mirror, he saw Gabriel looking back at him with an expression of wide eyed innocence. “Do the same thing, the same way, every night, and you’ll make the easiest paycheck of your life. Just don’t get him upset.”
“And what upsets him?”
“Any change in routine. You park outside the house. He’ll be waiting on the sidewalk. You get out and you open the back passenger door. He’ll get in the car. You drive him around the block for exactly an hour. You park, you open the door, he gets out. YOU leave. That’s important. He’ll wait on the sidewalk until you’re out of sight. Then, and only then, will he go inside. Think you can handle all of that?”
“What if I can’t make it one night?”
“You contact me and I contact him. You either show up at midnight, or you don’t show up at all. You don’t drive by any other time of day, and you sure as hell don’t stop and knock on the door. You interact with him for one hour every day, at the assigned time. If you can’t make it from time to time, that’s ok, but don’t make a habit of it.”
“It’s a deal.”
“Fine. Here’s a written list of the rules. Follow them, and everything will be fine. Fuck up and I’ll fire your ass into next week.”
The rules were both straightforward, and terribly, terribly complex. It was like walking through a minefield; pretty damned easy as long as you didn’t land on any mines. Every step was choreographed like an old-fashioned waltz- stop car, get out, open door, close door, get in, drive, repeat. He could do this.
236 Spruce Street was easy to find. It was a pristine brownstone, in the historical section of the city. He parked, opened the back door, and waited for the man in the beige trench coat to get in.
“Hi, I’m Dean.”
“Hello, Dean.” the man replied, and damn, wasn’t that a voice. It sounded like a clear mountain stream rolling over a rocky river bed, if mountain streams were full of honey bourbon.
His passenger got into the back seat, and let out a sigh. “Long night?” Dean asked. The man nodded, then, as if realizing Dean couldn’t see him, cleared his throat and said, in a slightly hoarse voice “Yes” before lapsing back into silence
Ok, so not a big conversationalist. That was alright, clearly this guy wanted the silent treatment. Dean could keep his mouth shut, but he couldn’t drive Baby without a soundtrack. Thumbing a cassette into the tape deck with dexterity born of long practice, he pulled away from the curb.
“What kind of music is that?”
Glancing in the rearview mirror, he saw his passenger tilt his head inquisitively. It was kind of adorable.
“What, you’ve never heard Heavy Metal before?”
“My last driver liked jazz. My first driver liked ragtime.”
“Look, dude, I was hired to drive you around the block for an hour. You want to sit here in silence, I can do that too.”
“I’m sorry- I’m afraid my people skills are rather rusty. Please play your music. If you would like, you can talk, and I will listen.”
What a weird guy. “You’re the boss.”
“Actually, I believe my brother is the boss; he’s the one who’s paying for your services.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “It’s just an expression, man.”
“Oh. I see. I will try to remember that.” As if to himself, Castiel murmured “You’re the boss!” multiple times before lapsing again into silence.
He didn’t speak again for the remainder of the trip.
When the allotted time was up, Dean pulled up to the curb at the same spot he’d picked Castiel up. He got out, opened the passenger door, and waited as his new customer unfolded himself, and with deliberate motions, got out. He stood for a moment on the sidewalk, and Dean had the feeling he dreaded going back inside. Dean didn’t get it- if HE had a place as nice as this, he’d be grateful every time he walked through the door, but Castiel moved slowly, before turning to look back.
Good night, Dean.”
“Good night, Castiel.”
They stood awkwardly for a moment, then Dean remembered his instructions. Drive away once he’s on the sidewalk. Don’t stay while he goes inside, it only makes him nervous.
Dean drove away and didn’t look back.
Gabriel showed up the next night. “So? How’d it go?”
“Fine. I showed up, we rode, I dropped him off, I left.”
“Good. Any questions?”
“Plenty. If he decides he wants to go to the grocery store, do I take him?”
“What?”
“Well, the guy’s gotta eat- what does he do, order everything online?”
Gabriel gave a bark of laughter. “Cassie? Use a computer? As if.”
“So what? You bring him everything?”
“Let me make one thing clear.” Gabriel was suddenly all business, his normally cheerful face like stone. “You’re his driver, not his social worker. It’s not your job to worry about him. It’s your job to drive the damned car. No more, no less. If you can’t do that, I’ll find someone else. His lifestyle is beyond weird, but it works for him. If you start asking questions, it’s just going to make things worse. Got it?”
“Got it,”
Asshole.
Every subsequent night was much the same as the first. Dean picked the music, and Cas sat in silence in the back seat. Occasionally he would ask a question or make an observation, but for the most part it was them and tape deck. Castiel had made it clear he knew nothing about any music made after the turn of the previous century, so Dean relished the opportunity to provide him with an education. He decided to go alphabetically through the greatest bands of all time.
“This is Aerosmith- ever heard of them?”
“An arrowsmith is a person who makes arrows, also known as a “fletcher”. Dean rolled his eyes and grinned.
“Not even close, dude. Prepare to have your mind blown.”
******************************************************************
The months went by, and slowly Castiel began to open up. At Halloween, Dean discovered the man knew nothing about pranks, candy, or toilet paper, but was an expert on the origins of the jack o’lantern.
He had also never heard “Monster Mash”.
“It’s a classic!”
“No, Luigi Boccherini’s Cello Concerto in B Flat Major is a classic. This is…”
“Hey, I can turn it off, if you want.”
“No, it’s…charming.”
Cas relaxed against the back seat, and Dean heard him mutter “but it’s not a classic. ” Grinning, Dean cranked the stereo and sang along at the top of his lungs. By the time their hour was up, he had Cas howling along to the chorus of “Werewolves of London” and counted it a night well spent.
Gabe would turn up every few weeks, never at the same place, or time, but always with the same questions. “How’s Cassie?” “Does he talk to you?” “What about?” “Does he seem depressed?” Dean always felt vaguely uncomfortable talking about Cas when he wasn’t there to defend himself, but as Gabriel reminded him, HE was coughing up the cash for their little operation, and he expected reports. The reports seemed to please him, because he kept smiling and he kept paying the bill.
Slowly, he began sharing his fears about his brother. “Look, I know you think my brother’s not the only crazy one in the family, but trust me when I say that right now you are the only thing standing between Cassie and a very, very bad place, literally and figuratively. He’s pretty traumatized. A while back one of my brothers thought he should be put away somewhere, in fact, he tried pretty damned hard to make it happen.”
“Your brother sounds like a dick. Any chance I’ll encounter him?”
Gabriel muttered something that sounded like “You’d better hope not” before saying “It’s doubtful you’ll meet any of them - Michael and Rafael are off being important somewhere, and Lucifer’s in jail- life sentence, no chance of parole.” He let out a humorless laugh. “And all parties are more than happy to forget Castiel ever existed. I hired you, and the guys before you, because I’m afraid that if he doesn’t try to maintain SOME contact with the outside world, he’s just going to fade away completely.”
“He seems to be doing ok- he doesn’t talk much, but sometimes he asks questions.”
“About what?”
“Usually the music I’m playing- I don’t know what things were like for you guys growing up, but Cas has NO clue about popular culture. I still have a hard time believing the two of you are related.”
“The funny thing is, Cassie has always been much more interested in people than the rest of us. He really loves them, but doesn’t understand how to interact with them, you know?”
“Yeah, I do.”
As December entered its third week, Cas began to look… sick. It wasn’t anything Dean could put his finger on- the clothes, and the body under them didn’t seem any smaller, he wasn’t coughing (or puking, thank God); he just looked worn out, as though something were slowly sapping his strength. Dean made a point of bringing some of Sam’s protein bars along on the rides, but Cas always refused them.
“C’mon, man, you look like crap.”
Castiel’s face crumpled into that look of perplexity Dean always found so endearing. “I look like…what?” he asked, giving himself a surreptitious sniff.
“You look sick.”
“Oh…it’s just…I am a bit tired. I have been working on a project that takes quite a bit of my energy.”
“Are you getting enough sleep?” For a man who functioned on a solid four hours a night, Dean was vigilant about the sleep needs of everyone else in his life. He had no trouble tearing Sammy a new one if he found his brother still awake, nose buried in a textbook, when Dean got home at 1: 30 AM. “I mean, I get it- I don’t sleep much.”
“I don’t sleep at all,” Castiel countered, then froze. “I mean, of course I sleep, it just… feels like I don’t.”
“Are you eating enough?”
“Yes.”
Dean wanted to press further, but remembered Gabriel’s admonition about prying. It would only make things worse. He resolved to keep an eye on Cas anyway.
Fuck Gabe.
*********************************************************************************
Dean figured he may as well work on Christmas Day. Growing up, the only thing special about Christmas was the lack of anything special. These days, he and his brother exchanged gifts, and went in together on something for Dad and Bobby, but that was about it. Any pretense of festivity was over by noon, and they spent the rest of the day eating pizza and watching TV, or in Sammy’s case, reading a book.
He pulled up outside Castiel’s house and was stunned to see the man awkwardly holding a brightly wrapped box- shiny white paper, tied with sparkling gold tulle, and trimmed with black feathers and golden bells. This wasn’t a package, it was a work of art.
Shit.
Was he supposed to get Cas something? Truthfully, he hadn’t even considered it. He liked the guy, as much as you could like someone you saw for an hour a day and exchanged stilted greetings and occasional non sequiturs with. That didn’t put him into gift giving territory, did it?
“This is for you” Castiel said with an uncertain smile, and Dean immediately felt horrible.
“Crap, man” he replied” I didn’t get you anything for Christmas.”
“Well that at least will not be a problem. Since it is after midnight, today is Boxing Day, not Christmas”
“Great, does that mean a big red glove is gonna shoot out and punch me in the nose?”
“What?” Castiel looked lost.
“You know, like in The Roadrunner? Acme? Looney Tunes? Jesus, weren’t you ever a kid?”
Now Castiel just looked lost. “No, I don’t believe I ever was. And I am certain I have never encountered a roadrunner, much less one that wanted to punch me in the nose. Is that another cultural reference?”
“Yeah. But the joke’s on me, Cas-I’ve never heard of Boxing Day.”
“According to Gabriel, Boxing Day is a British tradition. One gives holiday gifts to one’s employees on the day after Christmas…unless, of course, Gabriel was just making a fool of me.” His brow wrinkled. “But none of my old drivers ever said anything.”
“Nah, man, it’s good. If you say it’s a tradition, let’s make it one. Now hop in, I’m freezing my ass off here.”
After getting ready for bed that night, Dean opened his gift, and held it for a moment, awed.
It was a snow globe, with a black 1967 Impala inside. Peering through the minuscule windows, he could see figures in the driver's seat and the back passenger side. Turning it over, he twisted the knob, and the opening strains of Led Zep’s “Friends” began to play. Dean’s first question- “Where the hell had Cas gotten this?” was quickly supplanted with another. “Were they friends?” If this gift was any indication, the answer was “Yes” at least on Castiel’s end. What about Dean? He NEVER thought about Cas when he wasn’t driving him around.
Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He jerked off as often as any other red-blooded American man; the only difference was that he did it with one hand on his cock and the other frantically fucking himself on his fingers. At those times, he admitted shamefacedly, Cas was front and center in his mind.
Which was nuts.
He wasn’t into guys, and even if he was…hell, he didn’t know if Cas was even an Alpha. Not that it would matter, he had to admit. His imagination filled in the gaps- the smoothly muscled chest, the dusky nipples, the hard, flat abs…and what the hell was he doing? He’d never seen the guy in anything other than a suit and a trench coat; for all he knew, Cas had a body like the Pillsbury Dough Boy. That was the problem with fantasies-you could imagine whatever you wanted as long as you were prepared to have your dreams crushed by cold hard reality. With a sigh, Dean put the snow globe on his bedside table, got into bed and fell asleep to the sound of Led Zep.
The next morning, Sam bounded into Dean’s room bright and early, and stopped short at the sight of the snow globe. “What’s that?”
“My client gave it to me. Plays Led Zep.”
Sam grabbed it, and shook the snow around. “Wow! You know what this means, don’t you? He LIKES you!”
“Yeah right. He tolerates me.” Dean could feel the back of his neck getting red, and Sam yelped in delight. “I knew it!”
“You don’t know anything” Dean retorted.
“Oh please! You’re really going to sit there and tell me that guy doesn’t get your motor running?” Sam rolled his eyes.
“Pull your mind out of the gutter, man. I don’t swing that way.” Dean protested. “Yeah, I like the guy and he sure as hell needs a friend, but that’s it, ok?”
“You just keep telling yourself that, Dean.” Sam’s face grew serious. “You do know that it’s OK to like guys, right? I know you’ve always gone for women, and that’s cool too, but if you like this guy…”
“Sam, give it a rest. I’m not gonna jump the fence just because a guy I work for gave me a thoughtful gift.”
“Did you just use the word thoughtful? ” Sam yelped in glee.
“Shut up and go get ready for school. And shut up.”
On New Year’s Eve, Dean picked up Gabriel. The man got into the car with a party hat on and a glass of champagne in hand.
“Leaving the party early?”
Gabriel laughed. “I haven’t even started yet- this is just the warm up. A few glasses of champagne, some pleasant company, what else could a man ask for?”
“A report on his recluse of a brother?”
Gabriel snorted. “Always straight to business, this one. Would a little small talk hurt?”
“Fine. How were your holidays?”
“Great. How were yours? Dare I hope my brother acknowledged them?”
Dean shot a glare into the rearview mirror. “You know he did.”
“How the hell would I know that?”
“Well, he gave me a gift, and since he doesn’t go out, or order things online, you must have been the one who bought it.”
“I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“The snow globe?”
Gabriel was silent for a moment. “He gave you a snow globe?”
“Yeah, had my car in it. Played Led Zep, too.” Dean’s lips curved into an unconscious smile. “It’s pretty cool. Must have cost him a bundle.”
Gabriel sighed. “You have no idea. This is uncharted territory-every other driver he ever had got a pair of gloves. Which I bought. Cas doesn’t really grasp the whole “holidays come around EVERY year” thing.” He gave Dean a shrewd glance. “You must be something special.”
Suddenly, Gabriel was serious again. “Look, it’s good that Castiel has something to care about, and I do appreciate the fact that you care about him too. Just don’t…turn this into something it’s not, okay? Trust me on this, you do NOT want to be any more involved than you already are.”
Dean sighed. He already knew all of that but hearing it out loud made it infinitely worse. “Ok.”
***************************************************************************
Dean wasn’t going to risk his job by pushing Castiel, but surely, showing gratitude was within the rules? “Hey, I wanted to thank you again, for the snow globe.”
Castiel smiled uncertainly. “Did you like it?”
“I loved it, but how did you manage to get me a gift? Gabe says you don’t get stuff delivered…,and he says he didn’t buy it, either.” He chuckled. “Hey, you aren’t cheating on me with another driver, are you?”
Castiel looked thunderstruck. “Dean, are you saying…do you consider our relationship to be more than that of driver and passenger?”
By now Dean was sure his face was hot enough to fry burgers on. “Whoa, man, that was a joke!”
“Ah, I see. It was a joke.” Castiel made it sound more like a question, than a statement, and Dean needed to stop this conversation before he could let the tiny bud of hope inside his chest blossom.
“Exactly. No homo.”
Castiel lapsed into silence and Dean thought they were out of this particular thicket when his passenger spoke again.
“Hoc percallidum est. Bonum iocum fecisti.”
“Sorry, dude, whatever that language was, I don’t speak it.”
“But you just did.”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Cas.”
“ You just spoke in Latin, so I responded in kind.”
“No way man, I don’t speak Latin!”
“ But you said no homo.”
“ Yeah, so?”
“ In Latin,” no homo” means “no man”, which is a colloquialism which you use often- for example “No, man, that’s not what I mean” or “no, man, you’ve got that all wrong.” I assumed that you were speaking in Latin as a jest, and replied that you had made a good joke.”
Oh Lord. How to explain this? “ No homo means I’m not gay. ”
“Gay?” Castel brow wrinkled.
“You know, “batting for the other team”? “Light in the loafers”?” Dean rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Homosexual?“
“Oh, I see. You are not sexually attracted to another male? If I were a female would that make it easier?” Castiel sounded almost indifferent, as though they were discussing the weather.
“Might make it harder.” Dean joked, but Cas just looked confused.
“When I was last…out in the world, the derogatory term for a male homosexual was a “fruit” although I am not sure of the relationship between homosexuality and the mature ovary of a flowering plant, and I can assure you, God is indifferent to sexual orientation.”
By now Dean’s train of thought was so far off the rails it was practically on the interstate.
“What?” He shot a glance into the back seat. Castiel’s head was down, his hands fidgeting, and Dean knew he had to do something. “Hey, it’s ok, it's not…it’s just…I mean, I’m flattered and all, but…”
“Please”, Castiel interrupted. “You don’t need to apologize. It was just…a rhetorical question.”
******************************************************************************
In deference to the holidays, Dean had been playing Christmas carols, but with the season officially over, he devoted himself to continuing Castiel’s rock music education. Tonight Dean was introducing him to Kansas.
“Kansas. That is a musical group as well as a state?”
“You got it. Check out this one.” Dean popped “Leftoverture” into the tape deck and “Carry On, My Wayward Son” filled the car. Normally these days Cas interrupted the songs with incessant questions and comments, but this time he listened, and remained quiet for several minutes afterwards before finally speaking. “That is a very sad song.”
There didn’t seem to be much to say, so Dean nodded.
“The imagery is quite evocative - the angel, flying above the “noise and confusion”, trying to look for truth, and finding out that his brothers in arms would be better off without him.” Castiel lapsed into silence and Dean tried not to gape at him in the rear view mirror. The song wasn’t about angels, it was about a guy- a loner, someone the world didn’t understand. With a shake of his head, he hit “play” again and hoped Cas would have a better grasp on the other songs on the album than he did on the opening track.
Before he knew it, Dean had been driving Cas for close to six months. He'd also started a savings account and had visions of being able to send Sam off to college with something more than a dozen flannel shirts and a few ratty blankets. It felt…nice. He carefully kept the checkbook and debit card away from John, who loved his sons deeply but had a tendency to forget they existed when his mind was otherwise occupied. His dad was more than capable of dropping a day’s wages at a bar, and since they were now Dean’s wages, that wasn’t gonna fly. He hadn’t spent the last five years getting by on four hours sleep so that his father could piss away everything he’d worked so hard for.
Some nights Castiel wanted to sit and think. Some nights he wanted to talk. But he always, always wanted the music on. Occasionally, he asked questions. Most of them were honest, sincere, and made Dean realize that Cas was right- he’d never really BEEN a kid. Certainly not a normal kid at any rate.
“What song is this?”
“Seriously, man? You’ve never heard “Stairway to Heaven?”
“Ah, another religious allegory?”
“More like a song about doing drugs.”
Castiel listened until the music ended. “No, clearly, it’s about the human search for the divine. The woman who searches for the path to heaven, who has to interpret the many meanings of words-” Castiel’s voice grew excited. “Don’t you see? The references to those who are watching obviously means the angels…”
“Obviously.” Dean smiled into the rearview mirror at the intensity of Castiel’s enthusiasm.
“And the smoke on the trees represents human death- it all makes so much sense! Why isn’t Led Zeppelin in the Bible? The man was obviously a prophet!”
“Dude, Led Zeppelin wasn’t a person, it was a band.”
“See? That proves my point! They must have been vessels. An angel could have spoken through all of them!” He paused. “What’s the next song on the album?”
“Take a deep breath, Cas, I gotta turn the tape over.”
**********************************************************************
Winter passed into spring, and then became a hot, sticky, sweltering city summer. Dean had occasion to regret the fact that the Impala didn’t have A/C, but Castiel seemed unbothered by the heat. Hell, he didn’t even take off his trench coat. He did, however, ask Dean to turn up the music once the wind began blowing through the open windows.
They were on their fifth time around the block when a shrill, screeching noise shot from the speakers, and drowned out the music. Dean heard a gasp from the back seat and looked in the mirror to see wide, terrified eyes. “Dean!” Castiel said in an urgent growl. “My brother is coming-We have to go home NOW!”
“Relax, man. If Gabe gets there a few seconds ahead of us, he can wait and we’ll let him in when we get there-and why the hell is he coming at this hour of the night? Is your whole damned family nocturnal?” Dean paused for a moment. “You’re not vampires, are you?”
“Dean, please! It’s not Gabriel, it’s Lucifer! Hurry!”
Cas paled, as if he had just thought of something. “The minute you let me out, get back in the car, and go, as fast as you can.”
Seriously? Not a moment to lose, but the dude STILL needed Dean to do his little chauffeur act just to get out of the damned car?
“Please don’t ask why. Don’t look back, and don’t COME back, no matter what you hear or see! Do you understand me?” Dean had never scented Cas before but that command was pure Alpha. Too bad Dean wasn’t the kind of omega who put up with that crap. “Look, man, I don’t understand what’s going on here, but if you’re afraid of this guy, why am I bringing you home? Why don’t we just keep going?”
“I can’t explain. Just please tell me you’ll listen, and obey.”
Normally, Dean would give that statement the middle finger it deserved, but there had been nothing in Castiel’s voice but worry. No domination, just fear for Dean’s safety. He hit the gas, and screeched to a halt in front of the house, then leapt out to open the door, but was stunned to find Castiel already standing on the sidewalk, his head tilted as if he were listening to a voice Dean couldn’t hear.
“It’s too late,” he panted, “you’ve got to come with me. I promise I’ll explain everything once you’re safe.” He held out a hand. “Do you trust me?”
Dean didn’t hesitate. “Yes.” He looked at Castiel’s extended hand
“Please, Dean, I can’t touch you. You have to touch me.” Rolling his eyes, he grabbed the proffered hand, and Castiel pulled him through the door.
Literally.
*******************************************************************************
When they were inside, Castiel dropped Dean’s hand. “We’re safe now, but…” he looked embarrassed. “Now you know my secret.”
Dean’s head was spinning from being pulled through a solid wooden door, but he still had enough curiosity to look around. He was standing in a large, rather ornate room. It had a fireplace, two couches, a few pictures on the walls, and a freshly mutilated corpse on the floor. Its eyes were burned away, and its mouth was open in a frantic scream cut off by the horrific gash in its throat. Blood spattered the walls and formed clotted puddles on the floor. The man’s eyes were gone, and blood ran down his cheeks, but there was no denying the evidence in front of him.
It was Castiel.
“You’re a ghost?”
Castiel nodded. “I have been, technically, since 1901.”
“1901? That body looks like it just died five minutes ago. And If you died in 1901… Gabe isn’t really your brother, is he?”
Castiel seemed evasive. “No, he is very much my brother.”
“Then he’s either found the Fountain of Youth or he’s sacrificing virgins to stay young.”
Castiel suddenly looked exhausted. “Being a ghost is not my only secret, Dean. I’m also an angel, at least, I used to be.” He ran a hand over his face. “Now no one’s really sure what I am.”
“So you’re the ghost of an angel? Why don’t you just… you know, go back to heaven or wherever?”
“Angels don’t have souls, Dean, only humans do. Angels were created to serve, not to live forever with God. When our…grace, for lack of a better term, is extinguished, our consciousness goes to a place called The Empty. It’s not heaven, it’s not Hell, it’s just…nothingness. When Lucifer killed my vessel and stole my grace, I should have gone there. Instead, somehow, it made me…this.” He spread his hands. “Gabriel found me, barely clinging to existence. He put a warding on the house, so it was preserved as it was at the instant of my death, and immune to any damage from the outside world. I stayed here, but after a few months, it was clear that I was fading away. I was able to grasp the last bits of living energy from him, but now… “ He gestured towards the corpse. “Even though we’ve kept this place in a condition of stasis, he's dead. Going out every night was a way to recharge my batteries. I suppose you would say.”
“You mean you were sucking life out of me? Dean asked indignantly. Castiel looked shocked. “No, no that’s not it at all. I couldn’t venture far from my home because I’m a ghost and ghosts are very limited in their geographical scope. What I could do was go outside these four walls into a world where there was energy. Not just yours, Dean, but that of every living thing. And that’s enough to keep me…if not alive at least not dead. Interacting with you, with the world, every night is a way to keep me connected. It’s hard to explain using only three dimensions- how well-versed are you in particle physics?”
“Cas, I’m a mechanic.”
Castiel looked cowed, and said apologetically “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed. Your knowledge of quantum mechanics will make the explanation much easier.”
“You don’t get it, man, I fix cars for a living.”
When this failed to clear anything up, Dean elaborated. “I put nuts on bolts, I change oil. I rebuild engines, and transmissions. I fix timing belts. None of that has anything to do with physics.”
“But it does- you need to understand the nature of combustion, and of rotational speed- all of that is physics.”
“Huh. Really?”
“Really.”
“Huh.”
They both pondered this for a moment, then Castiel brought himself back to the point at hand. “The best way to explain my continued existence is through atomic fission. The force used to kill Jimmy was angelic- the simultaneous destruction of his body and my grace produced a very minute but very powerful atomic reaction and kept a tiny bit of my consciousness here. I have no power, but I’m not completely dead. I have all of the limitations of a human ghost. I’m tethered to my corporeal remains so I can’t go very far from the place I died. Gabriel risked his life and his safety to protect this house, and protect me. He put it in a state of stasis- that’s why poor Jimmy hasn’t decomposed.”
“Jimmy?”
“Jimmy Novak. He was my human vessel.”
“You POSSESSED that poor son of a bitch?” Dean couldn’t believe this was happening. He liked Cas, he’d trusted Cas, hell, he’d even JERKED OFF to Cas, and all the time the man was- what? Not even a man, apparently.
“Dean, no. He was a devout man- he actually prayed for this.”
“He PRAYED to wind up slaughtered?”
Castiel suddenly looked old, and tired. “Please believe me, Dean. I was on earth to try to stop a war. I needed a vessel. Jimmy volunteered, and proved himself worthy.” He paused, and continued in a voice laced with pain “It was only supposed to be for a few months, then he would return to his family. In exchange for his service I would ensure that they stayed safe.” His lips twisted and he gave an ironic smile. “Instead, I got him killed, and have lived with the evidence of it every day and night since.”
“So how is Lucifer coming back? Gabe said he was in prison.”
“He must have found a way out.” Castiel cocked his head for a moment, then nodded. “My brothers are coming to help.”
“Gabe?”
“No, Michael and Raphael. Gabriel…Gabriel disappeared from our family a long time ago. We all thought he was dead. I am the only one who knows the truth, and I swore never to reveal him. I won’t put him in danger by calling on him now. Michael and Raphael are…very powerful. Together they can stop Lucifer.”
Dean hated to ask, but he liked being alive and had no desire to die in a bloody puddle because a bunch of angels were at each other's throats. “What about me?”
“Apologies, Dean. It was never my intention to put you in danger.” Castiel looked pensive for a moment, then brightened. “I believe I have a solution. Take off your shirt. I need your blood.”
“Why don’t you use your own? “
“It wouldn’t work, I have no corporeal presence.”
“Good thing you never need to get laid.”
“What?”
Never mind, just trying to lighten the mood.”
“Don't.”
*********************************************************************************
“Shit!”
“I’m very sorry, Dean, I know this hurts, but if something goes wrong, if Lucifer gets in, this will protect you. One last section…there. You can put your shirt back on.”
Dean shrugged back into his tee shirt, ignoring the sting from the open wounds. Under Castiel’s patient direction, he had scratched some weird pattern into the tender skin of his chest. It hurt like a bitch.
“What is this?”
“It’s an angel banishing sigil. If you place your hand in the center, it will send all the angels away.”
“Where do they go?”
“It will send Michael and Raphael back to heaven. I’m not sure where it will send Lucifer, but he’ll be gone long enough for you to escape.”
“What happens to you?”
Castiel sighed. “I have no idea. It would probably send me to the Empty, which is what Lucifer wanted in the first place, I assume.”
“Fuck that.”
“NO.”
Dean was stunned by the force in Castiel’s voice. “I asked Jimmy to trust me and look what happened to him. I won’t let him hurt you. I don’t care what it takes.” He suddenly looked exhausted. “I have been living on borrowed time for over a hundred years, stripped of my powers, unable to do even the simplest thing for myself. Either way, it ends tonight. Please don’t let me have your death on my conscience as well.”
Before Dean could say more, there was another buzzing in the air, this one harsh enough to send Dean’s eardrums halfway through his skull. Castiel seemed to understand it perfectly, however.
“Dean” he said, his voice steady. “Could you please go to the door, and wipe off the lower edge of the last sigil?”
“And what will that do?”
“Gabriel wrote the spell very specifically. It has a general component, banning all angels, and another, banning Lucifer specifically. I need to ensure that my brothers can get in to help.”
Dean moved quickly to the door, and rubbed his thumb against an inch of the meaningless scrawl. “Like this?”
Cas didn’t need to answer. Suddenly, there were two more people in the room. No, not people, angels. Since they looked like people, Dean assumed they’d commandeered human bodies along the way.
It wasn’t like any brotherly reunion he’d ever seen. There were no hugs, no smiles, no expressions of joy that Castiel was still alive, or that they hadn’t seen him in over one hundred years.
“Brothers.” Castiel nodded at them, and got stone-faced nods in return.
“We thought you were dead.” Raphael’s dark eyes looked at Castiel without any particular emotion, and Castiel responded in kind. “Lucifer tried to kill me, but something went wrong. I’ve been surviving here, but barely.”
“We didn't know you were alive until we felt your grace stirring, just a tiny trace...that was foolish, Castiel. If we could sense you, so could Lucifer.” This was Michael.
“I know. I didn't realize that I was...coming back to life." He gave Dean an unreadable look. "In all these years, I never heard the voices of my brothers and sisters, but tonight…”
Michael nodded. “Yes, tonight the message was VERY loud. We wanted to make sure you heard it.”
“I did. Thank you for coming. It’s good to know that it’s at least three against one.”
The two other angels smiled. It wasn’t a pretty sight.
“You’re absolutely right- it IS three against one. But it’s the three of us against you, and it always has been."
“I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t. Lucifer, Raphael and I were working a very complicated spell. It required a great many ingredients, and the final one was you.”
“What did you hope to achieve?”
“We were trying to kill God.”
Castiel looked shocked. “Our Father? What could you possibly gain from that?”
Raphael’s smile was devoid of pity. “He was ruining everything. Lucifer hated him for loving these hairless apes more than his own angels, Michael hated him for keeping him as the eternal heir to the throne but never giving him any power, and me? I hated him for wasting my time, my talents and my very existence. I was created to fight the forces of hell and win. But he’s never allowed the Apocalypse to happen. Too worried about his precious humans.”
“Those humans were his proudest creation and we were commanded to love them. Was that so hard to do?”
“If we’d succeeded, Lucifer would have ruled Hell, Michael would have ruled Heaven, and I would have ruled the earth and ground your little mud monkeys into the dust.” Raphael stepped closer to Dean, who shot him a defiant glance. “Let’s have a good look at you.” His obsidian eyes scanned Dean from head to foot and his eyes narrowed. “Not just a hairless ape, but a child of Eve.”
His voice filled with disgust. “Just when we think you can fall no further, Castiel, you find a new low.” Raphael moved slowly towards Dean and grabbed him by the chin. “Castiel has no money and no power, it’s a wonder he’s kept himself hidden from us as long as he has. What did he offer you, hmmm? What kept you by his side?” Raphael’s eyes narrowed, then widened. “You care about him! Oh how sweet. And now you know what he really is- just a weak flicker of energy tethered to a corpse. Humans need so little to fall in love, don’t they? But you’re an omega, after all; you just can’t help yourself. I know your kind- I invented them. God created Lilith, and gave her dominion over all the animals. She was lonely, though, so he created Adam to be her companion and helper. But Adam was human, and he got greedy- he wanted someone to hold dominion over, too. By then, God had wandered off to invent giraffes, so I created Eve. Adam could rut her like an animal, and Lilith could use her like a slave. Everyone was happy, even poor little Eve. And now, here you are- acting like you matter, speaking to us with such disrespect. Yes, I’m going to enjoy dealing with you. Once the Earth is mine, you’ll have a very special place on it.”
“Stop tormenting the damned omega, Raphael, we have more important things to focus on.” Michael barked. Raphael looked annoyed, but took his hand from Dean’s face. Dean was a few inches taller, and took the opportunity to look down at him. It earned him a slap before Raphael turned away.
He shook his head in mock disappointment, and waved a dismissive hand. Dean yelped as he crashed to his knees. “That’s where your omega belongs. Shall I put a leash on it as well?”
“Don’t you touch him” Castiel growled, but his brothers laughed. “Poor clueless Castiel, always daddy’s blunt little instrument, always loyal, always obedient, never thinking for himself. Do you know how many of your garrison have joined our cause?”
“None of them would violate God’s trust. They were great and honorable soldiers. We fought together!” Castiel sounded beyond hurt, he sounded betrayed.
Raphael smirked. “Uriel? He’s with us. Balthazar? We barely had to ask before he was tarnishing his halo. Quite the hedonist, once he got a taste of the good life.”
“You're making a mistake. There must be another way. Brothers, please, I don't want to hurt you…”
You don’t want to hurt US? Do you really believe you can?” Michael laughed.
Castiel looked between his brothers. “Why won’t you listen to me? Can’t you see that what you’re doing is wrong?” .
“What we’re doing will result in peace, in Heaven and Earth.”
“ Really? How long before the three of you are at each other’s throats?” Castiel shot them a look of disgust.
“Just the two of us now,” Raphael sneered. “Lucifer is still locked in the Cage. He took the fall, and Michael and I played dumb. Our Father didn’t even come back to ask what happened. We’ve been doing his job for him almost since the beginning. Have you ever even SEEN God, Castiel? He doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t care about any of us.”
“You’re wrong. I don’t know where he is, or why, but I refuse to believe he has abandoned us.”
Michael exchanged glances with Raphael. “We’re about to find out. I don’t know how you survived, Castiel, but somehow I don’t think God will be bringing you back this time.” Raphael’s face took on a calculated look. “I don’t know how he brought you back the last time.”
Dean saw Cas’s face relax a microscopic amount, and immediately understood. Michael and Raphael still thought God had somehow kept Castiel alive. That meant they didn’t know about Gabriel. Maybe Castiel’s one decent brother would survive this.
“Any last words?”
“I'm ashamed of you- I expected more from my brothers.” Castiel stood tall and looked every inch the warrior. Turning to Dean he said, ‘I’m sorry.” He gestured towards the door. “Please go over there and turn your back. I don’t want you to see me die.” Dean felt something tear loose in his chest, something he hadn’t really acknowledged until that moment.
It felt like love.
He nodded, and without looking at either archangel, walked towards the door, hand hovering over the sigil he’d carved into his own flesh. He knew the cold hard facts. Castiel was gone either way. The least he could do was make sure his killers went down too. As he walked past the table, he remembered what Castiel had said. “ Use the sigil when all else fails.”
Well, all else had failed, and Dean was damned if he was going to fail too. Taking a deep breath, he slammed his hand into his chest and felt the raw power rip through him.
******************************************************************
Dean carried on. He fixed cars during the day; he drove passengers at night. He slept as little as possible, his dreams filled with visions of Castiel disappearing in a blaze of fire, his face contorted in agony. Cas wasn’t the only thing that disappeared. When Dean came home that fateful morning, the snow globe was gone. It made sense, he supposed. Cas had created it out of his own meager life force, and now that Cas was gone, so was the only earthly memento of him.
Dean never listened to “Friends” again.
He never saw Gabriel either. He’d hoped, for a while, but as the years passed, he gave up. Hopefully, the angel was safe. He’d saved Cas once, and Cas had returned the favor, keeping their secret even to the end.
Sam graduated high school, then college, then law school. He was in Boston now, with his wife and son, happy, healthy, and safe.
They talked on the phone, sometimes, but Dean had less and less to say.
Sam and Jess came home for the funeral.
John had been out late one night, and gotten T-boned by a semi whose driver had missed a stop sign. Dean had the small house to himself now, just him and his memories. He’d tried, for a while, to go out, act human, make friends, or at least get laid, until he’d finally admitted the truth. Cas was gone, and now Dean was the ghost, haunting the city streets, driving around aimlessly in search of enough energy to live to the next morning.
He still heard Castiel’s voice in his dreams. Not the shy, diffident ghost with the earnest, incomprehensible questions about music, but the Cas he’d seen at the end- voice raw and screaming, as he disappeared forever. Whiskey took care of that most nights, but sometimes, when the sounds were too much to bear, he powered through wakefulness for days until his body took over and put him into a coma too deep to dream.
******************************************************************************
One morning, he awoke to the sound of music- it was a simple instrumental, but his mind filled in the lyrics. “Bright light almost blinding, black night still there shining, I can’t stop, keep on climbing, looking for what I knew.”
His heart couldn’t break, it was already shattered, but the music brought back memories he never wanted to relive. It took a moment for his head to clear, and he looked towards the source of the sound. There, on his bedside table, was the snow globe. He grabbed it and shook it, snow falling in time with his tears. Looking closer, he saw that it wasn’t his snow globe. The Impala was the same, but the passengers were different. Instead of one in the front and one in the back, the miniature Castiel was now riding shotgun. It was a message. It had to be.
Dean couldn’t wait to get to work that night. Even though he was only supporting himself these days and could easily get by on the money he made at the garage, he had nothing else to do, and somehow, the pain of driving and remembering was too sweet and tortuous to let go.
As the night dragged on, he began to lose hope. There were plenty of pickups but none in a blue suit and trench coat. It was midnight when he decided this ride would be the last for the night. He read the summons. “Steve. Pick up at the Gas-N-Sip on the corner of 7th and Culver. 5.0 rating.”
5.0? Who the hell was such a wonderful passenger that no driver EVER rated them less than perfect? He pulled up in front of the convenience store, and the guy was standing there. In the shadowy light, it was hard to see his features. He was well built but wearing a dorky blue vest with his name tag still on it. He pulled open the front passenger door, and Dean tensed. What the hell? This guy clearly had no social skills, which made his 5.0 rating even more suspect. Dean reached under the seat for his pipe wrench, then dropped it when the man spoke.
“Hello, Dean.”
In the dim luminescence of the dome light Dean got his first good look.
It couldn’t be.
“You changed your clothes.” To his dying day, Dean wished he'd said something more profound. “Where the fuck have you been? Do you know how…” Lost? Miserable? Heartbroken? “ Worried I was?”
Castiel sighed. It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time.” Dean turned his meter off. “Spill.”
************************************************************************
It was indeed a long story.
Dean had blasted Raphael and Michael back to heaven. To his shock, Castiel had landed there as well, in Joshua’s garden.
“Joshua- they’re after me- please, can you help?”
Joshua had. With his assistance, Castiel had managed to stay a step or two ahead of the archangels and that had been enough. He’d rallied the few members of his garrison who were still loyal to him and to God.
It had been a long bloody battle, hunting down all of the angels who’d mutinied. Castiel had won in the end, but it had been a close thing. When the dust had settled and the fires were reduced to ash, God himself came back.
“He wasn’t at all what I expected.” Cas admitted, frowning. “He was…gentle.”
“Did he have long hair and a beard?” Dean asked despite himself.
Castiel fixed him with a look. “He’s an infinite wavelength of celestial intent. He doesn’t have a beard. He doesn’t even have a face. He thanked me, which was odd, because he’s GOD. He could have stopped everything the moment it started. He could have gotten rid of Michael and Raphael with a single thought. Instead…”
“Instead?”
Castiel paused, looking pensive. “I asked him why. Why he’d let it all happen. Why he’d tolerated such…disrespect, such heresy, from his angels. He said that I didn’t understand, and perhaps I still don’t.”
“You and me both, Cas. What’s the point in being God if you let people pull shit like that?”
“He said it’s because he couldn’t bear to create creatures who didn’t have free will. What’s the point in obedience, in loyalty, in love , if it’s not a choice? And then… He asked me if I wanted to be God.”
“He can do that?”
“Apparently so. He offered me the chance to take over, to rule the angels, remake Heaven and earth in my own vision.”
“Damn, man, so you’re telling me you’re GOD now?”
“I turned him down.”
“Seriously? So now you’re what? Just an angel again?” Dean swallowed hard. Had Cas come back just to check in, to let him know he was ok, before flapping his way back to heaven?
“No. God offered me any reward I wanted. I told him I wanted to come here- to come home.”
Dean didn’t know what to say. Cas gave up a chance to be God, so that he could come back and live in his horrible house, and have Dean drive him around?
As usual, Dean’s mouth responded before his brain could get involved. “Is Jimmy still there?” Despite their short acquaintance, he’d felt a bond with the guy (or what was left of him) as the only other human in the room that fateful night.
“What?”
“Sorry, I was just thinking about your house…”
“I didn’t mean coming back to my house, Dean, I meant coming home…. to you. I felt a bond. A profound bond. You changed me, Dean. I want the chance to experience things in a different way, maybe even for the first time. I want to be human, and I want my life to include you. I have been working hard to be worthy of you. I have a job, and a place to sleep, so I will not be a burden to you. I know you have made it clear that you do not desire a carnal relationship with me, and I accept that, but…”
Castiel’s declaration ended in an undignified squeak as Dean’s lips cut off whatever else he was about to say.
*****************************************************************************
Later that night, Castiel reached out his very human hand towards the bedside table and shook the snow globe. “It’s still here.”
“And so are you- are either one gonna stick around?”
Castiel smiled and snuggled back into Dean’s embrace. “Through the rest of this life and whatever comes next.”
They fell asleep to Led Zep, singing about friendship.
Met a man on the roadside crying
Without a friend, there’s no denying
You’re incomplete, there’ll be no finding
Looking for what you knew.
So any time somebody needs you
Don’t let them down, although it grieves you
Someday you’ll need someone like they do
Looking for what you knew.
Mm, I’m telling you now
The greatest thing you can ever do now
Is trade a smile with someone who’s blue now
It’s very easy, It's very easy
It’s very easy, it’s very easy.