endoftheverse | Deerington Inbox.

Same place this came from.

[He reaches under the desk, pulls out a particuarly well-made bone dagger; looks like the same materials that his odd little bracelet is also made out of; maybe now it's abundantly clear Sam's put in a lot of time here in Deerington. Gotten things from particular people, good people, and in this case-]

Cas gave 'em to me. Our Cas, I mean. When he was around.

[He hasn't spoken about Dean's previous stay much. Hasn't spoken much about Cas, either. But it was a wound that was still healing — god, Sam's first night after realizing they'd vanished was one of the worst he'd had in a long, long time. But it's unfair to not talk about their friend, right?]

[ He's almost sorry he asked. Cas is raw wound in Dean that he doesn't know to heal; a massive fuckup on Dean's part, because he didn't take care of the angel when he should have, he didn't do right by him, he inadvertently taught him unhealthy coping mechanisms, and now there's a whole...fucked up dynamic between them Dean doesn't know how to fix--

and he won't get the opportunity to fix. He's dead home, and Cas is not here, so all Dean is left with is regret and the knowledge that he's the one who ruined Cas- ruined what they were, what they could have been.

Doesn't matter now, does it.

Except maybe it does, because he isn't sure he knew that Cas had been here - or if he did, he'd forgotten up until now (either purposefully or due to everything that's been happening nudging it aside), and something uncomfortable twists in his chest, and he folds his arms, eyes sharp as he views Sam's little collection, his lips pressed thin. ]

That was nice of him.

[Sam recognizes everything for what it is, because he knows his brother well enough to read the discomfort, see the guilt and complex feeling that spirals with regard to Cas and what he, too, became in their 'verse. Sam became the Devil's meat puppet after years of nightmares, Dean became a colder, ruthless leader, and Cas became a depressed junkie who drowned himself in sex and medication.

Yeah, they're a trio alright. Three sad strands, perfectly braided into the world's saddest friendship bracelet.

He sighs softly though his nose, nudges Dean with his shoulder as he collects some things off the desk.]

You came back. He might, too.

... I'd usually just say I don't believe in good things happening, but you're here, so I can't exactly pretend I know who'll come to town. [He's quiet for a moment, and adds:] He taught me meditative yoga, and I flushed a lot of pills when he wasn't looking. Give-take relationship... Never thought I'd ever get to know him, considering I left before we ever really knew each other.

[ Dean blames himself for Sam's inevitable collapse, as well as Cas'. It all hinged on his choice, and he chose wrong. He should have called Sam. He should have made things right. He shouldn't have let Sam's last words to him be Dean, don't do this.

It's on him. Their whole fucked up world - it's on his shoulders. ]

I wouldn't consider my presence necessarily a 'good' thing, Sammy.

[ Look what he did, after all. Dean is an asshole, he's cold, he can be cruel. Less so here, in Deerington, because something about reuniting with your brother is good for the soul. ]

[He rolls his eyes, but there's no heat to it.]

And my presence is a good thing?

Works in progress, Dean. That's kind of what we are, these days.

[He clears his throat, rubbing his thumb absently along the inside of his palm.]

And anyway, you being here is good. Really good.

I would've given up in this town a long time ago, if you hadn't come along. You can't remember me at the start, but, uh. I was — well, honestly, I'd been visiting the sinkhole practically day by day, wondering if I should just pitch myself in. I was sure you hated me, and I was sure you would've wanted it as much as I did.

But I was wrong, and... I think — even after what's happened, uh. Recently.

I think I'm getting... better.

I've been getting better.

I think if Cas had gotten to be here longer, he would have gotten better, too.

[So maybe he will come back.

And maybe he'll be a work in progress, too.]

Edited 2021-04-25 19:18 (UTC)

Well, I uh-- I guess I'm glad I was there.

[ Which is weird, because he doesn't remember it, at all - but Sam isn't the only person to tell him that he's been here, so Dean knows it isn't a Lucifer deception or something.

He's uncomfortable talking about Cas, about the addiction, the orgies, all of it, its clear from his expression he doesn't like the line this conversation took. ]

I miss him. [ Despite all the guilt, the pain...Dean misses him. A lot. ]

... I know you do.

I miss him, too.

[Which is funny to say, isn't it? Dean by every right deserves to miss him way more. He was with him the whole step of the way into the apocalypse; they knew each other, lived in each other's pockets like Sam and Dean had once upon a time. Stuck through it, self-destructed together, and...

Cas was just — here for Sam when he needed it. They were friends, in that short time.

Sam couldn't help but find comfort in his presence.]

Well... If I can hold a sliver of hope to get rid of Lucifer...

I can hold a hell of a lot more hope for Cas to come back.

[ He's glad for Sam, really. Cas is complicated for Dean in ways he doesn't completely understand, and he envies the friendship his brother clearly had. ]

I don't put a lot of stock in hope these days.

[ Things got too horrible for him to hold out hope. ]

Look, I don't wanna go all chick flick moment. Let's get this desk moved, kitchen fixed, okay?

[ And your things, if you're bringing that, too. Pls come :< ]

... Right. Chick flick moments are rare, use 'em sparingly.

[You never know when you'll need one.

Besides, he knows too much proding'll just shut Dean down, put him in a headspace that'll be hard to get out of. He knows because it happens to him, sometimes, too. Only he's quieter and more curled in on himself, like a dog dying in the bushes.

He clears his throat as he glances around the room.]

Well, I don't... plan on coming back, so. I'll sweep through and make sure I haven't left anything.

Exactly. This ain't the time, so save it for later.

[ He's relieved Sam lets it go for now, because he can't talk about Cas, can't talk about the things he'd done and left undone.

That last bit, though, he perks a little, undeniably pleased. ]

Really?

[Sam smooths a hand over his mouth and chin, surveying the small space; he double-takes at the pleased little look Dean gives him, and feels a little warm in the chest. Brothers, man.]

... Yeah, actually.

[There's a hell of a lot he could say right now, especially when it comes to the two of them, and the chances Dean's given him here, and the fact that they've been joined at the hip so long in their lives that walking away felt like complete exile, but he settles for:]

This place has pretty crappy AC.

[ he tries to look unbothered, but he's kind of shining like a kid. ]

Cool.

[ He's kept the place tidy, made room for another person (two actually, if the other Sam was interested) just in case Sam every took him up on his offer to move in, to stick together. He didn't want to push, not with their lives as fragile as they are, their relationship so recently renewed.

But man...Dean really wants his brother back. ]

Well, I won't lie. You'll probably have to fix mine.

[His eyebrows raise.]

Guess I should probably get on that before summertime.

C'mon, grab that end over there; let's get the hell out of here. [He gives pause.] ... I don't think the elevator works, so I hope you're ready for a real fun trip down some stairs.

[It's fine, it's a nice day for brotherly bonding through bickering about moving furniture.]

Probably not a bad idea.

[ Dean groans in mock frustration, shuffling over to get ready to lift his end. ]

I see now why you didn't tell me before I came over here.

What, do you not need the exercise?

[C'mon, Dean, put your back into it.]

Pretend it's one of Dad's lessons in how to field carry an injured civilian. And if you don't do it quick enough, you won't get that gross cheeseburger you obsessed over in that Milwaukee diner that you made us double back around to get more of.

[ Ugh fine. He's in okay shape, he's been running for his life for a few years with no cheeseburgers in sight. God he'd kill for one. ]

Man. I'd do it again, too. Those were delicious.

[He rolls his eyes. Predictably.]

Yeah, yeah. Just get a move on.

[He supposes they're, uh. On their way home. Their home, plural?

Some part of him is nervous to live with Dean again, because the last time he'd moved in... they were gone. Cas and Dean both. If he ever had to wake up to a lifeless house again... he's not sure what he'd do.

But for now... they have this.

It's good.]

[ Their home. The Winchester cabin. Other Sam too, if he wants. Dean would like that. Keep all his Sam's safe, in one place. The other Dean also, if that's his jam. A real home, a place they can call theirs. ]

Look, Grandpa, I'm the one with the idiot end, here, use your legs--

[ Because this desk is pretty solid and Dean's the one going backwards so cmon Sam put your back into it, dammit! ]

... I'm moving, I'm moving.

[He's just too busy being amused, watching Dean shuffle down some stairs backwards, sorry.]

Who are you calling Grandpa, anyway? You're the one who still listens to mullet rock ritually.

Are you sure you're even lifting, dude? [ Because this thing is heavy and you' don't seem WINDED Sammy ]

Grandpa's listen to crap from the 40s. Cool people listen to mullet rock.

[He's injured, remember? Totally weaker. That's 100% the reason. Not giving Dean a hard time at aaaall.]

Does the 50's get a pass? The beginning of the Elvis era.

[Everybody likes a little Elvis from time to time, c'mon.]

Elvis gets a pass.

[ But like. That's about it. ]

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