Chapter Text
Later that same night, after Dean had finished making dinner and left Sam’s bowl filled with spaghetti on the table, Sam says his goodnights to Cas and leaves out the front door to go to his own house. It’s been a number of hours since either of them have seen Dean. Castiel spun a story that Dean didn’t feel good and went upstairs to rest so Sam wouldn’t go around snooping. While Sam ate dinner and Castiel kept him company, they made plans to go shopping the next day for more household items.
Locking the door behind Sam, Castiel leans his forehead against the cool wood, sighing deeply. He gives himself a moment before picking himself up to go to the kitchen, flipping off the lights of the main entry way as he leaves. He gathers up Dean’s forgotten comforter off the floor and walks to the base of the stairs and turns off the lights, the kitchen snapping into darkness. Light beams down from the upstairs hallway, giving Castiel a clear path of travel.
And yet, he cannot move.
As if his feet are encased in cement, Castiel cannot move. He picks up a foot to begin his ascent upstairs, but when he looks down, he sees that they are both still planted on the floor. He holds the comforter a little closer to his chest.
Just give it to Dean, then be on your way , he tells himself.
A breath in. A breath out. Castiel climbs the stairs.
He rounds the banister and stands in front of Dean’s door. Dread antagonizes him from under the surface of his skin. He again shifts the comforter in his hands, and wonders if it is best to leave it at the door and go away.
Go away
The words have been on repeat in the interior of his skull all night. Castiel closes his eyes and gathers up the courage to face Dean. It’s crazy to think that he was once a warrior. An angel who led thousands and murdered even more. And to think knocking on a door is what will bring him to his knees. A man, a human. That is what will make Castiel kneel.
Using his knuckles, he knocks. Soft, yet swift.
Silence.
Castiel stands still to try and pick up on any signs of life from the other side of the door, yet there is none. He is inclined to knock again, but right as he decides to, through the door Dean says, “Come in.”
Thinking he must have hallucinated it, Castiel studies the patterns etched into the wooden door before realizing that he had in fact heard Dean’s voice. He still waits a heartbeat before reaching for the knob, twisting it slowly, and opening the door.
The hallway light spills into the bedroom. Dean is sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows to his knees, and with something small in his hands. Castiel takes a step inside, but sticks close to the door.
“Your comforter,” he says and holds it out for Dean to take.
Dean, though, keeps his eyes on whatever he has in his hands. Castiel tries to get a glimpse of it, but in the low light, it’s difficult. It takes a moment to pass for him to realize Dean isn’t going to take the comforter from his hands.
“Well,” Castiel whispers, and places the comforter on the floor next to the door. He stands up straight before pausing. The silence wraps around them both, pulsating. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again. Though, it’s not entirely directed at Dean.
Plastic clicks against plastic as Dean shuffles the item around in his hands. He looks like he has something to say, but his jaw is set tight.
Castiel nods his head, understanding. His fingers twitch at his sides before he turns to leave.
“I just can’t,” comes Dean’s strained voice. Castiel doesn’t dare look at him. “I just can’t .”
Gripping the doorknob, Castiel shuts his eyes. He visibly cringes at Dean’s words. It doesn’t feel right to say anything, even if certain words hang inside Cas’ mouth. He swallows them instead.
He steps out into the hallway and shuts the door behind him, sealing Dean in the dark room.
The moon hung high in the sky for what felt like days. Castiel, an insomniac angel, roams the two houses left by Crowley. He snoops around in the basements, observing the ropes, knives, candles, and other occult items left by the demons that have surely once occupied these four walls. He tests the foundation for any remaining sigils or sulfur and destroys all that he finds.
Sometime between one and three in the morning, when Castiel was deep in the basement of Sam’s house, he finds something strange. Behind a wooden bookshelf is a hole in the wall that is boarded up with plywood and bricks. Standing in the middle of the room thinking, he then vanishes with a flap of wings. Appearing in the basement of Dean’s house, he finds where the hole connects to.
The moon inches across the sky. Castiel watches from the front porch of Sam’s house as the ocean becomes streaked with reds and oranges. He knows it’s just a matter of minutes until Sam is awake and walking outside with a cup of coffee.
Sure enough, right when the rising sun reaches above the horizon and the vibrant colors have melted into the blue water, Sam comes out onto the porch.
“Cas,” He says, obviously surprised. He looks back inside, saying, “If I had known you were here, I would’ve gotten another cup. Want one?”
Castiel shakes his head. “No, I’m good. There is something I would like to show you, though.”
Sam looks at him sideways, a concerned look dawning onto him. “What’s the matter? Should we get Dean?”
Castiel opens his mouth, but finds that he has no words. Taking in a breath and looking out to the ocean he tries again. “No. I believe he is still sleeping. And, it’s not serious.”
Sam nods, saying, “Ah” as he follows Castiel back inside the house and down the stairs to the unfinished basement. A large floor to ceiling wooden bookshelf has been moved and behind it is a dark hole leading into the foundation of the house. Sam, with an eyebrow raised, asks “What’s that?”
“A hole connecting both houses. Presumably used by Crowley’s demons when they used this place,” Cas replies.
“Cool. Like Clue.” Sam takes a sip of his coffee. “Dean will love this,” he says, then pauses. “Wait. This wasn’t here last time I was down here. How’d you find out about this?”
Castiel sighs and motions around the room. “I don’t sleep. I need something to do to pass the time. Last night I busied myself with looking around the houses to see what had been left behind.”
“Oh,” Sam says shortly. “Well, more shipment of things should be coming in soon. I know our couches will be here within the week.” He turns around and starts back up the stairs, Castiel at his heels. “Once the Impala arrives we should take it into town and shop around for other things, like TV’s and such.”
The two weave throughout the house and back outside, as Sam had wanted to enjoy his coffee with the sunrise. In silence, the two listen to the birds, the breeze, and the distance crashes of the rolling waves.
It’s a strange thing to enjoy life after such horrific events. To see red from a sunrise and force your mind to not think of blood or fiery graves. To pick up a bottle of kerosene and start not a fire to burn bones or a loved ones corpse, but to roast marshmallows and enjoy a night on the beach.
After Bobby’s final death, one that left both Winchester’s with a grief so deep they still wake up empty most days, they were contacted by some bank in a state deep down south. After the news of Bobby’s death had reached this bank, a representative reached out with their condolences and a surprise. Apparently, Bobby and Mary had a couple accounts set up. Accounts no one knew about, not even John.
To normal people's standards, the money was miniscule. But, to Sam and Dean, boys who have been living off scams and gambling since single digits, it was more than a fortune. Enough for three one way tickets to Hawaii, a splurge on Amazon, and much more. And, it greatly helps that the two houses had been completely paid off for years.
Once Sam had finished off his coffee, he went inside to begin his day properly. Castiel, without anything better to do, goes back inside Dean’s house to change out of his nightly clothes that now had dust embedded into the fibers.
While inside his bedroom, with the door open and before he’s got the chance to put on a shirt, Dean’s door swings open. Since the two rooms are directly across the hall from one another, it is not easy to dismiss each other. After pausing in his doorway, Dean nods his head to Cas and sends a ‘Morning’ his way before heading downstairs. Castiel looks to the ground and mumbles “Morning to you, too.”
When Cas finished getting dressed and went downstairs, he expected to find Dean in the kitchen. But, he was not there. Nor was he in the living room, or in the downstairs bathroom, or outside the house. While standing on the front porch, Cas’ shoulders drop in disappointment and regret.
What has he done?