“What are they?” Dean asks in a hushed voice.
“Souls,” Cas tells him.
“Where are they going?” Dean steps closer to Cas.
“Home.” Cas brushes his hand against Dean’s.
“Like Heaven?”
“I don’t know.”
They lock their fingers together as an orb stops in front of them, twinkling like it’s trying to communicate with them. Dean can’t help but smile.
“Well, wherever they end up,” Dean says glancing at Cas. “I hope it’s half as good a what we got here.”
Cas smiles back and the orb glows almost blindingly bright. ”They hope so too.”
“I don’t want to be like him,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.
She hangs her head. “We don’t have a choice, though.”
“Yes we do,” you tell her. “We can run away. Hop in the truck and just drive.”
“And go where, Ben? Who’s going to talk to us when we look like this?”
You bite your lip. She’s right, but you refuse to admit it. “It doesn’t matter, we’ve got each other. That’s good, right?”
She lifts her head and looks at you with watery eyes. “But for how long? We’re slenders, Ben. We can’t just avoid that.”
“But we can try, right?”
“Dad will find us,” She says as a tear slides down her cheek.
You pull her into your arms. “Let him,” you whisper.
“I don’t want to be like him,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.
She hangs her head. “We don’t have a choice, though.”
“Yes we do,” you tell her. “We can run away. Hop in the truck and just drive.”
“And go where, Ben? Who’s going to talk to us when we look like this?”
You bite your lip. She’s right, but you refuse to admit it. “It doesn’t matter, we’ve got each other. That’s good, right?”
She lifts her head and looks at you with watery eyes. “But for how long? We’re slenders, Ben. We can’t just avoid that.”
“But we can try, right?”
“Dad will find us,” She says as a tear slides down her cheek.
You pull her into your arms. “Let him,” you whisper.
The news comes in on the wall screen just as your alarm goes off. You squint at it for a moment, not sure whether it’s serious or just a joke from Billy again. But your bracelet doesn’t shock you when you lie back down and there’s a government seal attached to the bottom of the message. It’s hard as fuck to duplicate that seal and your bracelet only malfunctioned once, but that was the week after you got it and tried to shatter it with the back of a screwdriver. Your ribs start to ache where the guards kicked you before they’d arrested you.
You wait for a few more minutes, expecting something bad to happen. But the message stay in the center of the screen, making you uncomfortable. So you sit up and push the blankets off your legs. You don’t want to be in the presence of the new anymore. But as you stand up and make your way to the kitchen you realize that it’s on every wall in the house, following you like a stray too stupid to realize no one wants it.
“You think it’s real?” You ask your sister as you sit on the bar stool across from where she’s making breakfast.
She shrugs and smiles. “I learned a long time ago not to question the news. I’m surprised you haven’t yet.”
“So what do we do?”
She looks up at you with the newest trend of irises; her eyes look like they’re bleeding. “Whatever we fucking want!” She hisses and shakes her wrist. “Goddamn bracelet!” It shocks her again. You lunge forward and clap your hand over her mouth before the lets a string fly from her mouth and you have to clean up her drool puddle off the floor, again.
“How about the museum?” you ask.
She nods. You remove your hand.
“You sure we won’t get in trouble for not just going back to bed?” She asks as she butters a piece of toast.
“Probably,” you say, grabbing a piece of bacon and shoving it in your mouth. “Buh whus life if you can’ fuck uh a bih?” Your bracelet zaps you quickly. “Ah!”
She shakes her head and laughs at you.
Your fists clench and unclench, nails digging into your palms as you white-knuckle your entire existence once again. Supernatural doesn’t look at you, content to just smoke his hand-rolled cigarettes and pretend he doesn’t know why you’re angry. But you aren’t letting it slide tonight.
“I’m sick and tired of you bullshit!” you shout at him. He tries to smirk and you punch him in the mouth.
He spits blood onto the pavement. “that the best you got?”
“Why do you hate me so much, huh?” You grab the front of his shirt with both hands and pull him to your face. “I have done nothing but defend you,” you sneer. “I love you so fucking much and I bend over backwards to keep you from fucking drowning. But what do I ever get from you, huh? A bunch of backhanded compliments and a turned cheek when I need you the most? How the fuck is that fair?”
He looks at your shoulder instead of in your eyes, tonging at the split on his lip.
“‘M not homophobic,” he says after a beat. You aren’t sure if he’s trying to convince himself of the both of you, you really don’t care. You’re sick of his shit.
So you shove him away from you, glad a little when his back hits the side mirror of the impala and he bites back a hiss of pain.
“I know that,” you tell him. “But flirting with a few guys doesn’t excuse you form being a fucking douchebag and making me feel like shit because you can’t bother to speak up for me every now and then.”
He straightens up and pressed down his jacket. “What do you want from me? An apology? Fine, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pretended to not hear you, okay.”
It’s not sincere. It never is. So you let it fall to the ground and die like every other lie he tries to feed you nowadays.
“What I want from you,” you say, stepping forward and holding his chin between your fingers, forcing him to look at you. “is to know that this thing we have between us isn’t as one sided as it feels. I want you to be on my side as much as I’m on yours. And yeah, maybe once in a while I want you to look at some ass hat who’s messing with me and say, ‘So what if my friend is gay? I swing that way too sometimes’.”
“I will never say that,” he says, and you can tell that he’s more opposed to the phrasing than actually standing up for you.
“So add a bit of salt to it and rub it in their cuts.”
He smiles and nods. “I’ll try.”
You let go of his face and place a small kiss to his cheek. “Good. Now let’s go get some food.”
“What are they?” Dean asks, stopping beside Cas in the clearing. “Souls?”
Cas gives a shake of his head, barely even moves. “No.” He stares in awe of the thousands of glowing orbs floating around the two of them. It feels like their in a warm snow flurry, Dean thinks. Or maybe swimming among a school of land jellyfish.
“Then what?” Dean asks after a few moments.
“They’re wishes,” Cas whispers. He looks at Dean briefly, wearing an expression that only looks like sadness and defeat. “And dreams,” Cas adds.
“Of the monsters?”
Cas shakes his head again.
“Humans, then?”
Cas nods as he reaches up and pull an orb from the air. “I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas says so quietly Dean almost doesn’t hear him.
“For what?” Dean questions. “It’s just a field of light. No big deal, right?”
But the sadness on Cas’ face has deepened so much in just a few minutes, and if Dean didn’t know Cas better he’d swear the angel was two seconds away from bawling.
Cas just holds the orb in his hands, staring at it as he mouths sorries to it over and over. Dean reaches out to grab the orb from Cas, telling him that they really need to move because Benny still waiting at camp for them. But just as he touched the ball of light he wishes he hadn’t, wishes they’d never stepped foot in this godforsaken field. Because right when his fingers graze the light he hears his own tiny, four year old voice calling out to anyone who would listen.
“I wish Mommy would come back. Please, please, please bring Mommy back.”
Dean yanks his hand back as if he’d been burned. He stares at the orb for a moment, not understanding the trick being played on him. He grabs Cas by the sleeve, knocking the orb out of his hands and snapping him back to the present.
“Let’s go, Cas,” Dean demands. He bites his lip, fighting the tears that want to fall. Cas just nods and lets Dean pull him away from the clearing.
Hours later when he’s sandwiched between Benny sleeping on his shoulder and Cas sleeping on his lap, Dean allows himself to cry. He fucking hates purgatory.
(Source: gofuckingsource)
Dean brought Cas home when he was a puppy. You remember the way Dean blew into the house with the snow and wind chasing after him, his collar turned up so high it almost covered his ears. He shook off the snow as he laughed then looked into his coat and cooed at something you couldn’t see.
“It’s okay, buddy,” Dean whispered. He walked toward the kitchen and sat down on a bar stool at the island. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. I promise.”
“You finally snap or something?” You asked, making your way towards Dean. He looked up and raised his eyebrows like he had only just realized that you were there too. It lasted for only a moment, then Dean smiled. He reached into his coat and pulled out the tinyiest puppy you had ever seen.
“I found him in a box on 5th. All his brothers were dead. Frozen,” Dean explained. He brought the puppy up to his face and touched their noses together. The puppy whined and stuck his tongue out. “He’s a fighter, Sam. Think I was maybe meant to find him there.”
“Thought you didn’t believe in fate?” You asked, holding out your hand for Dean to pass the puppy to you.
“I don’t. But this little guy was almost dead, and when I passed the box he opened his little eyes and gave out the best little bark he could manage, just to get my attention.”
“How do you know it was meant for you?” You turned the puppy in your hand, examining him. You could feel just about every bone in his tiny body.
“Do you know anyone else, besides me, that would walk down fifth in a fucking blizzard?”
“Good point.” The puppy wiggled on your palm, breathing heavily. Then, after a yawn that exposed the bad shape the puppy’s teeth were in, he opened his eyes. You nearly gasped at their epic blue that put a sunny day to shame. You handed him back to Dean who started stroking the puppy’s muzzle with his thumb the second he had the puppy in his hands.
“He might not make it, Dean,” you said, trying to be realistic about the situation.
“Yeah, I know. But we gotta have a little faith, you know?” Dean smiled and you rolled your eyes.
“You’re lucky I’m a vet.”
Dean just grinned wider and kissed the top of the puppy’s head.
____
Cas’ first night at the house was the worst. Dean stayed up with him all night, holding Cas on his chest, feeding him with an eye dropper that used to belong to your cat Ruby, and singing Beatles songs to him the way your mother used to sing to the both of you anytime either of you was sick. You used to tell Dean that he should’ve gone to school for music instead of Social Work, but he always laughed.
“Can’t save lives with just a song, Sammy,” he’d say.
“Melodies can be remedies,” you’d tell him.
“Yeah, but they aren’t the cure.”
You wondered, during Cas’ first night, if Dean still believed that. If he was only singing to lull the puppy into a good place in case he died, or if Dean was trying to save him with the lullabies. You didn’t know which it was, but it didn’t matter, because Cas was still alive the next day. And Dean called off work for the next week just to get the puppy on a proper feeding schedule and make sure that Cas knew that Dean wasn’t going to abandon him like his last owners had.
Four in his hand, three in his pocket, and one balanced on the tip of your nose as he balances on his elbows, staring down at you with that misty gaze that he calls lucky. He says this is the only change he’ll ever need. “It’s enough to fill a thousand piggy banks and still have extra left over to share.” You tell him he’s an idiot, that quarters don’t hold the meaning to life. “Yeah,” he agrees. “But you do, and I just really like the way your eyes change to match the silver.” His lips touch your cheek, touch your chin, touch your lips. “I can’t decide if their blending in to be nice, or if it’s a ploy to destroy ever bit of reserve I thought I once had.” You call him a moron, gasp helplessly as he tastes the hollow of your throat. “Probably the latter,” you whimper. He smiles, nips at your jaw, then whispers in your ear, “Probably.”
“Who are —”
The boy’s hand clapped over Dean’s mouth and his other arm wrapped around Dean’s chest, holding him still.
“Shhh!” The boy hissed in Dean’s ear. “They’ll hear you?”
Dean breathed in through his nose and waited as an orange light shone through the trees, searching for something, them most likely. It came and went in an instant and then it was night again. Dean waited and the boy removed his hand from Dean’s face, stepping back.
“You are the noisiest person I have ever met,” the boy said. Dean heard the cracking of twigs and realized that the kid was walking away. Dean turned around quickly.
“Hey!” he called after the boy. “Who are you?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“What? Wait!” Dean took off to catch up to the boy. He grabbed the kid’s shoulder and pulled. “Look at me!”
The kid turned around and glared at Dean.
“What the hell is going on?” Dean asked.
The boy shook his head and set his jaw. “If you have to ask, you’re more sad than I thought.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean asked, clenching his fists.
“Ever heard of Project Paradise?”
Dean nodded, of course he had. Everyone in the world knew what Project Paradise was, it was all over the new lately.
“Well it’s a lie,” the kid spat. “All of it. There is no peace coming. Just pain and misery.”
“But the news said —”
“Ignore what you heard on the news! Project Paradise isn’t some pretty retreat, it’s a war. A World War and they’re starting with kids like you and me.”
“You’re a fucking liar!” Dean yelled. He raised his fist to deck the kid.
“Yeah? Well have any of your friends gone missing?”
Dean didn’t have many friends, he’d only just moved to Nevaeh with his Dad and Brother three weeks ago. But if he really thought about it, yeah, people had been disappearing. It started with some kid named Andy his twin sister Ava. They just up and vanished two weeks ago and Dean always thought it was odd that no one even tried to look for them. It bothered Dean.
“It isn’t a coincidence,” the boy said. “All over the world kids are going missing.” The kid reached in his pocket and pulled out some pictures and a flashlight. “And then weeks later they show up on news feeds looking at least five years older than when they disappeared.”
Dean looked at the pictures in the boy’s hand. The one on the left was of a chubby looking boy, wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a candy cane sticking out of his mouth and on the right it was the same kid, sans the candy, but at least five inches taller and more serious than anyone Dean had ever seen. He was in a military uniform, like the one Dean’s uncle wore on the days he worked.
“You sure this isn’t like years between photos?” Dean asked.
The kids clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. “Look at the dates.”
Dean did and swallowed down his next questions. The dates were only two weeks apart and Dean remembered where he was when the news feed from the second photo had been on. And he’d bet money that the boy next to him did too.
“So what does it mean?” Dean asked. The boy shoved the pictures back in his pocket and turned off the flashlight.
“Other than the government starting a war?”
Dean nodded.
“I’m not sure yet,” the boy said, starting to walk again. Dean walked with with him, catching up easily this time. “But I’m going to find out.”
“Why?” The question came out before Dean realized how stupid it sounded.
The boy stopped walking and looked at the ground. He held a hand to his ribs and breathed slowly. “Because they took my brother,” he said almost whispering. “He’s the only family I’ve got and I have to get him back.”
Dean didn’t blame the kid for being and ass now, he’d do the same think if someone took Sam. Dean opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly the orange light was back and brighter than ever.
“Shit!” The kid swore and took off running. Dean ran after him, trying to keep up as best he could.
“Hey!” Dean yelled. “What’s your name? Hey!”
“Cas,” the boy yelled back. “My name is Cas. Now shut up and run!”
Dean looked back at the light that was too damn close for comfort and then he ran, faster than he ever had in his life.
Dean saw it on an infomercial one night, he thinks. It claimed that you could see the universe and all it’s wonders in your own bedroom for just twenty-two bucks plus shipping and handling. Dean almost passed it over and shut off the TV, but something hit him like a ton of bricks trying to smash his brain out the side of his head. So he picked up his cellphone and dialed the number on the screen.
——
It took three weeks for Dean to get the package. He had to backtrack through two states and almost through Canada before he was able to get it in Michigan. The little old lady at the counter gave him crap for it too. She didn’t believe he was really Jensen Ackles, like the package said. But Dean smiled sweetly and the woman grunted as she passed it over to him and told him to leave.
In the car, Dean was hesitant about his purchase. It was small and cheaply made. He doubted it would even work when he plugged it in. But he was on a mission now and he would jimmy-rig the damn thing if it mean getting the reaction he wanted.
——
The night air was cold against Dean’s bare arms and the pavement froze his feet through his socks. He regretted not actually getting dressed for this and staying in sweats and tee.
He folded his arms over his chest and walked to the Impala, careful not to step on any rocks on the way over. A figure sat on on the trunk, legs pulled to his chest and his head turned up to stare at the cloud-covered sky.
“You aren’t gonna see anything, ‘less you’ve got x-ray vision,” Dean said.
“I used to be able to see three galaxies at a time,” Cas told him, like it wasn’t anything all that impossible. Cas turned away from the sky to look at Dean. “Now I have to wait for the proper weather to barely even see the moon.”
“Welcome to the human world,” Dean said. He kind of wanted to take it back the minute he said it, but Cas’ face didn’t change.
“I don’t like being human,” the former angel admitted.
“Well, neither do any of us,” Dean agreed. He shifted his body from side to side trying to stay warm. “Hey, uh, I got something for you in the motel.”
“What is it?” Cas asked hopping off the trunk and taking off his coat to drape it over Dean’s shoulders.
“‘M not a girl,” Dean protested, but pulled the jacket tighter around himself.
“What’s this gift,” Cas asked again.
“I can’t just tell you or it’ll ruin it. Besides, I’m not sure I could explain it if I tried.”
“Fair enough,” Cas said as he started walking toward the motel. “Show me then.”
Dean took off after him, jogging a little to catch up. “Okay, but you have to close your eyes,” he demanded.
“Why?”
“Just do it or I’m sending it back.”
Cas huffed a sigh and closed his eyes when they reached the door. “Fine.”
“Okay, good. Now, I’m gonna lead you in and tell you when you can open them. But if you peak, I swear to god I will ship it back to Africa. You got me?”
“Yes, Dean, I got you.”
“Kay, good.”
Dean opened the door then and grabbed Cas’ arm, pulling him inside and kicking the door closed. He moved away from Cas for a second to plug in what he bought.
“Okay,” he said when everything was turned on. “You can open your eyes now.”
Cas did and gasped. Dean grinned.
The room was covered with imitations stars and planets emanating from a small soccer ball-like mirror thing that sat on the cheap dining table that came with the motel. It spun slowly, making the stars dance across the walls. It was beautiful and when Dean looked to Cas there were tears in the former angel’s eyes.
“Do you like it?” Dean asked.
Cas rushed forward and enveloped Dean in a tight hug. It took a moment for Dean to realize what happened, but he wrapped his arms around Cas and hugged him back.
“Thank you, Dean.”
“You’re welcome, Cas.”
Later that night, Dean had memorized two thirds of the constellations that Cas pointed out to him and even made up some of his own, which earned him a couple laughs from Cas that Dean swore he’d never forget.
