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themoonandotherslikeit · 5 years

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Something More Than What I Had- Part Six

Part Six- Revelations

“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” Revelations 21:4

“Hello, Sweetheart.”

Castiel looked up from the Bible and met Dean’s eyes from across the room. “Hello, Dean,” he said carefully.

“Smelled coffee. Why you up so early? Bad dreams?”

Cas pressed his lips together. Dean looked different in the dark, in the shadow. Castiel couldn’t make out his face, it was obscured by shadow, the only light coming from the lamp next to the typewriter. Castiel was bathed in warm light from the lamp. Dean had to see the Bible in his hands.

They stared at each other in the darkness, waiting for each other to make a move. Dean stepped out of the hallway into the light. His expression was soft, his lips turned into a disappointed frown. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out, Cas.”

Castiel tried to choose his words carefully. He knew the situation was fragile at best. He had been around killers before, and if he could’ve guessed the way his encounter would go when faced with the biggest murderer of his career, the situation in front of him wouldn’t have even made the list. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip; it was dry and cracked from the winter air. “And how did you want me to find out, if I can ask?”

“Cas, of course you can ask,” Dean said, stepping toward him. “I wanted you to find out when you were ready to know. You aren’t ready, Cas, you have to know that. I wanted you to see the gift that I was giving you, that I was giving everyone. I’m ridding the world of evil. The men were a plague, and I eradicated them.”

“Dean… you killed them.”

“I brought them to justice.”

Castiel pressed his lips together. “That isn’t justice. The law decides justice.”

“You were so heartbroken, Sweetheart, I just couldn’t sit back and watch. You don’t do that when you love someone. When you love someone you fight for them.” He was rambling, his eyes squinting, but he was still unbelievably calm. It was as if he couldn’t find the words. “I saw you that day outside of the courthouse after Azazel’s trial. You did everything right and it didn’t matter. The system is broken. The angels are gone, Detective. They’re gone.” He was getting emotional, his ears welling up with tears.

Castiel stepped closer to Dean. In that moment they weren’t enemies, they were just two men who were tangled together moments before. His stomach ached. He loved Dean. “What do you mean, Dean?”

“I saw what they did with my mom. She didn’t get any justice. I couldn’t let that happen, not again. Not to anyone else.” Dean closed the space between them, taking Cas’ hands in his own. The reality of the situation snapped around Castiel in an instant. He recoiled from Dean’s touch. “You’re mine, Detective. I wouldn’t ever let anythin’ happen to you. I’d never hurt you. You know that, right?”

He didn’t. Of course he didn’t. “Does Sam know?”

“He wasn’t ready, either. He is just a kid. It’s my job to protect him. I’m his brother.”

“I have to take you in,” Castiel said suddenly. If Dean wasn’t going to hurt him, there would be no need for cuffs, no need to make a scene. “Will you come willingly?”

“Right,” Dean said with a nod. “You have to bring in Duma today. I knew you’d want to go in early. I had plans, ya know, about when this finally happened. I’d make you breakfast in bed, and you’d relax for fuckin’ once. Better be glad I think you’ll look dignified with wrinkles, Detective.”

Castiel frowned deeply. “Dean, I’m not going to bring in Duma. She didn’t do it. I need to bring you in.”

“Oh.”

“Do you want to call Sam?”

“Why would I call Sammy?”

“To tell him. He will be surprised when we come to the precinct, won’t he?”

“I go there all the time,” Dean Winchester said as he batted his beautiful green eyes.

“Dean, get dressed,” Castiel said carefully. He couldn’t tell the game that Dean was playing. Dean seemed like he wasn’t all there. He looked confused. He looked different. Castiel reached one of his arms over to the other and gave himself a quick, but hard pinch. It hurt. He wasn’t dreaming. Was Dean in denial? Was he having a breakdown? Maybe he was hoping for an insanity plea, which, from where Castiel was sitting, was a real possibility.

“Sure, Cas. You sure you don’t want another round before work? Heard it’s good for your health.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“I think we’ve run out of time.”

“Damn, you’re right. I should’ve woken up earlier.” He leaned forward and placed a kiss on Castiel’s cheek, causing chills to run down Cas’ spine. “I’ll meet you back out here?”

“Sure,” Castiel said carefully. His body was stiff, and he was painfully aware that he was in his underwear and a shirt of Dean’s. He needed to change. His stomach tugged like he was going to lose it. He had to be ready to go when Dean came out of the bedroom, in case he got violent.

He turned and scanned the room, finding a discarded pair of jeans by the couch. He picked them up and slid inside, getting into his shoes and coat. He holstered his gun in the back of his pants, all the while listening for Dean’s bedroom window to open, in case he tried to make a run for it. “Let me grab a coffee, and we can head out,” Dean said, shrugging into his coat. “Damn.” He paused, looking Castiel over with a smile. “Sweetheart, you look so sexy in my clothes.”

“We don’t have time for coffee, Dean,” Castiel said, wishing he had his handcuffs with him. Dean’s behavior had his discomfort increasing rapidly.

“I got it, Cranky,” Dean teased, as he put the lid on his mug. “You aren’t fun in the mornin’.”

They left the apartment in the snow and walked toward the precinct. If Dean was talking, Castiel didn’t hear any of it. All he could hear was the soft footsteps in the snow. He could feel Dean’s presence like a moth to a flame. He was shining so bright that Castiel imagined he would be able to find him even in the darkness. He could feel Dean next to him, and the cold metal of his weapon in the back of his pants. He was grateful that the precinct was so close.

It was getting closer to six o’clock in the morning, and the evening shift was still staring at the papers on their desks trying desperately to stay awake. No one noticed Castiel and Dean walk through the front doors. He led Dean to the interrogation room, his fingers curling around the door frame. “Have a seat in here.”

“Sure thing,” Dean said, eyeing the room. “Are we going to do a sexy detective criminal role play?”

Castiel pursed his lips. “Just wait here, Dean.”

“Hey, you good?” Dean touched Castiel’s shoulder.

“Just get in the fucking room, Winchester!”

“Fuck, okay.” Dean's hands flew back. “I read ya loud and clear, buddy.” He looked a little hurt. The door clicked shut behind him, and Castiel turned to the trash can next to him and vomited.

Dean was the killer. Dean was the killer. Dean was the killer.

He could still see the letter typed and stuck in the typewriter, the pages missing from the Bible.... he could hear the Hello, Sweetheart . He threw up again. His arms wrapped around the trash can as if he was hugging his father's leg, begging for attention.

“Woah, did you drink too much? Because if you went out celebrating without me we are going to have words...”

“Charlie?” He looked up, tears streaming down his face. “What are you doing here?”

“Captain Singer is getting in early today, and I have to be where he is.” She crouched down next to him, pressing her palm to his forehead. “Fuck, Cas, you okay? No offense, but you look like shit.”

Castiel shook his head. “I’m not okay.”

“What happened?” She asked, rubbing his back gently.

“I...I can’t,” he gasped. It was too much.

“Shh, hey. You can. Look at me.”

He did.

“You’re the strongest guy I know. You look danger in the face daily and tell it, come at me. That’s strength. Did you and Dean...”

He didn’t hear her question, because at the sound of Dean’s name he was vomiting again. “Can you go to my apartment?” He asked her, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I need clothes.”

“You got it.” Charlie nodded quickly. “Let me go get Sam... he can...”

“No. I’ll get him in a little while,” Castiel said frantically. He wasn’t ready. He needed more time.

“Okay.” Charlie nodded, grabbing him a water bottle from her bag. “Take this. Sam’s in the break room. He was asleep when I got here. He looks pretty damn cute sleeping, for such a tall guy.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when I wake him,” Castiel said with a pained smile.

“I’ll be back soon.” She pressed a kiss to the top of his head and ran off.

He stopped throwing up after what felt like forever. He stood up and walked to the two-way mirror. Dean Winchester sat with his hands flat on the table and stared directly at Castiel as if he could see him through the glass. He could’ve sworn that Dean wasn’t even blinking. He felt rotten in his own skin, with the smell of Deans sheets sticking to him, his sex still fresh on Cas’ skin. He wanted to strip naked and scrub until he bled.

Castiel felt like a fucking idiot. He wasn’t cut out to be a cop. He should’ve been a botanist or maybe a janitor, something where lives weren’t on the line, at the very least. He hadn’t known it was Dean when he was right under Castiel’s nose the whole time. In his bed. If he’d had anything left inside of him to vomit, he would have. He was empty, in the most complete sense of the word. He pressed his palm to the glass.

“The people who walk in darkness will see a great light. For those who live in a land of deep darkness, a light will shine. Isaiah 9:2,” Dean murmured, continuing to stare impossibly at Castiel through the glass. “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. Psalm 23:4.”

“What are you doing?” Castiel asked no one in particular.

“Detective, I know you’re out there,” Dean said slowly, carefully. He clasped his hands. “It’s rude to leave a guy hangin’.”

Castiel closed his eyes.

“The grace of the Lord Jesus be with God’s people. Amen. Revelation 22:21. There is no grace with God’s people anymore, Detective. I think you know that. Give me a pen, Cas, and you’ll see. I sound better on paper.”

His ears almost perked up at the sound of his name. When he opened his eyes, Dean was in front of him, his hand touching Castiel’s through the glass. “I never lied to you, man. Don’t leave me alone in here.”

Castiel pressed his lips together as Dean rested his forehead against the glass, and his forearm above it. He looked handsome with his eyes almost gray from exhaustion, and his hair still tussled from bed. His chin and cheeks were covered with prickles of hair since he hadn’t had time to shave. He looked disheveled in the way that a man always does after he is ravished.

“You really love me, Detective?” Dean asked, as he hovered over Castiel, his lips only a breath away.

“I do.”

Cas felt Dean’s fingers run along his arm, and then Dean tangled their fingers together, pinning Cas’ arm above his head. “I never thought someone like you could… could love someone like me.”

“Someone like you?”

“Yeah.”

“It was always you,” Castiel whispered, leaning up to kiss him again.

“It was always you,” Dean echoed Castiel’s thought. “I saw you in that bar, and I hit on you. I don’t make a habit of hittin’ on men in clubs when I’m supposed to be helpin’ Sammy, but I think I knew. You’ve got a way about ya, buddy.”

Castiel was captured by Dean’s words. The gruff of his voice was still against Castiel’s throat in his mind, harder, faster, fuck I love you. He didn’t realize he was walking until he pushed open the door to the interrogation room and was face to face with Dean again.

“Cas,” he breathed with a relieved exhale, like he was a balloon deflating after a child’s birthday party. “I didn’t think..”

“Do you know why you’re here, Dean?”

He needed to get another detective. It wasn’t appropriate for him to work the case any longer, but he couldn’t make himself move.

“You want to talk to me about the murders,” Dean said slowly, carefully.

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’ll tell you.” He nodded.

“Do you want to contact your lawyer? You have the right to one.”

“I don’t want a lawyer, Cas. I wasn’t lyin’ in my letter when I told you that if you forgive me that I will make it to heaven. You’re the only person I need to convince. Maybe once you hear it, you won’t want to keep up with this. Maybe we can just go back home and get into bed. I know that’s where you’d rather be, Sweetheart.”

I don’t think I can forgive you. “Have a seat.”

Dean walked back to his seat and lowered himself in it. “What do you want to know?”

“I want you to tell me the truth. Did you kill Fergus Crowley?”

“He got what he deserved, Detective. Did you know that he was going to continue? I talked to Krystal. He was going to kidnap more women to sell and if they fought back he’d kill them. Do you really think he didn’t deserve what happened to him?”

“That wasn’t what I asked you, Dean.”

“I just want you to understand.”

“My opinion means nothing here. There is a right way and a wrong way,” Cas’ voice was strained, his throat stinging from the vomit, scratchy and pained, but nothing hurt more than how it felt to look at Dean.

“According to who?”

Castiel gripped the back of his chair. He knew he should sit, but his legs were buzzing. “I didn’t even know you were religious.”

“I’m not.”

“The Bible verses? The angel wings? If you’re not religious…”

“God doesn’t give two shits about us anymore, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t right. If his soldiers aren’t doing their job to punish the wicked, then we have to. Mom said angels were watchin’ over us, but no one was watchin’ over her. I wish there’d been someone like me out there when she was killed.”

“Did you kill Fergus Crowley?”

“If I answer that you will leave. I’ve seen Law and Order.” He tilted his head to the side inquisitively.

“You want to talk to me,” Castiel said slowly, as the reality settled in. It was Dean’s game, and he had no real stakes in that could let him win. No matter what Dean had to say, Castiel would lose. They both would.

“Yeah.”

“Why?” Why can’t you just let this be over?

“I always wanna talk to you.” He gave one of those big grins that made the skin around his eyes crinkle, the kind of grin that got Cas’ heart racing, but it was racing for a different reason this time.

“Say whatever you want to say, Dean.”

“You don’t want to talk to me?” Dean asked, his bottom lip poking out in a pout. “I thought what we had was more than all the bullshit, Detective. I thought it was real.”

“Detective Novak, I have your clothes.” Charlie's voice came over the intercom in the interrogation room.

“I’ll be back,” he said sharply before exiting the room, feeling Dean’s eyes on his back the entire walk to the door.

“What the fuck?” Charlie asked, her eyes wide in shock. She held Castiel’s clothes folded in her arms. “Please tell me that you are doing some kind of roleplay in there, and not what it looks like.”

Castiel looked around and grabbed her hand, pulling her into the single stall bathroom. “Lock the door,” he instructed. She followed the instructions and he peeled off Dean’s sweatshirt.

“Jesus, Cas,” she commented on the hickies covering his chest, stomach, and thighs when he wiggled out of his jeans. He shot her a look, and she put up her hands in surrender. “Sorry, explain.”

He slid into his gray slacks and buttoned up the deep blue shirt that she picked for him. “He did it.” His voice sounded completely defeated and forgein even to his own ears.

“What do you mean?”

“He is the killer, Charlie. He murdered those people.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I don’t think it, I know it. I was at his place, and I found a typed up letter just like the ones I received at the crime scenes. A Bible with the pages ripped out... he did it. It was Dean.”

“Shit. Does Sam know?”

“Dean said he didn’t tell him.”

“But did you?”

“I haven’t had the chance.”

“But you’re interrogating him? You’ve arrested him without his brother knowing? Without your partner knowing?” She handed him a polka dot tie.

He wrapped it around his neck and began to tie it. “I haven’t arrested him. He seems… off.”

“Yeah, he’s a serial killer, Cas!” She exclaimed, completely perplexed.

“I told him I loved him last night,” he admitted quickly, needing to purge it from his system.

Charlie dropped Castiel’s belt. It clattered to the floor. “You did what?”

“I was walking to his apartment, and I just couldn’t stop myself. I looked at him and fuck.” Castiel turned and sent his fist flying into the stone wall. He cried out in pain, but the sting of broken skin on his knuckles centered him just enough to get it together. “I’m in love with him.”

“Oh, Cas,” Charlie murmured, reaching for his hands, but she refrained from taking them. “Are you sure it’s him? Maybe there's an explanation.”

“Trust me, Charlie, I wish there were,” he said solemnly, bent down, picked up his belt, sliding it through the loops, and clasped it. “I need to talk to the Rookie. I’ve been stupid. I want the answers, but I don’t think I’m going to get the ones I want. I don’t think there’s any closure for me.”

“I really thought he was the one,” Charlie said, looking down. “I feel like I pushed you two together…”

“I thought he was the one, too,” Castiel admitted out loud for the first time. “But that doesn’t matter. He is just another criminal that I have to put away. I did say I was married to the job, makes sense that I would be attracted to a psychopath.” He unlocked the bathroom door, his back to Charlie. “I’m going to talk to the Rookie.”

“Cas, you can take a second,” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “No one would blame you.”

“I don’t need a second,” he said, shaking his head. “All I’ve wanted was to find the son of a bitch who did this, and now I’ve got him. There’s no sense in letting emotions get in the way.” Castiel opened the door and pushed out into the precinct, running immediately into Sam Winchester.

The Rookie was pouring himself some coffee, his eyes were red rimmed and his hair stuck up in the back from where he was sleeping peacefully on the couch in the break room. The sleeves on his plaid dress shirt were pushed up to his elbows. He didn’t know. Castiel was about to ruin his life forever.

“Hey, Novak, good morning.” Sam glanced at his watch. “Damn, you’re here early. I thought I’d have a little more time to get presentable… but I should’ve known you’d be here earlier than we agreed.”

“Rookie we need to talk.”

Sam looked up from his cup of coffee with a frown. “Sure, Cas. What’s up?” He grabbed another coffee cup and poured it for his partner.

Castiel took it, even though the coffee was old, and even though he was jittery as all hell already. He took a sip out of habit.

“Jesus, are you okay?” Sam asked, gesturing to the broken skin on Castiel’s knuckles.

“Let’s go somewhere private to talk.”

Sam ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, okay. Lead the way.” They walked back to the evidence locker. Castiel unlocked the door and clicked on the light. The single fluorescent light buzzed angrily like a bee trapped behind glass. “You’re freaking me out, Cas. What’s going on?”

“We were wrong.”

“That’s pretty cryptic, wrong about what?”

“Duma isn’t the Angel Killer.” It wasn’t an official name, but it was a hell of a lot better than the alternative.

“What? Did you find something else? I’ve been researching all night. She looks good for it…”

“Yeah, I found something,” Castiel said in almost a hiss through his clenched jaw. He felt sick. His stomach gnawed against the coffee he was suckling. It was better to keep it busy. Maybe he was just yearning to give himself something in his stomach to vomit up. He felt like he was going down a hill too fast, like he couldn’t quite get a grip on it. It was that empty, weightless nausea.

“What was it? You weren’t supposed to be working, but I’ll let it slide if you got a lead,” Sam teased gently, trying to relieve some of the palpable tension in the air.

“I wasn’t working. I just came across the information.”

“What was the information, Cas? Are you feeling okay? You look a little green…”

Castiel pressed his lips together and looked up, his eyes meeting Sams. They weren’t as green as Dean’s, with flecks of gold in the center, but still familiar. The kid would never get past it. How could he? Dean was his older brother, his pillar, his light in the darkness. How was he going to feel knowing that the man he held in such high regard was a murderer? Probably just as bad as Castiel was, knowing that he slept with the criminal he’d been hunting. The man both of them loved was the man they were hunting. “It’s Dean,” he said suddenly, but quietly. His voice was barely a whisper, a withdrawal of smoke.

“What?” Sam laughed, shaking his head. “What’s Dean? I know you guys are dating, Cas. You don’t have to be weird about it.”

“That isn’t what I’m saying, Sam.”

“Okay, then what?”

“It’s Dean. Dean is the Angel Killer.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean it’s Dean? That’s crazy. I’ve never heard him quote scripture in my life. He doesn’t even own a Bible.”

“He does, Sam,” Castiel said carefully. “I’m sorry. I don’t want it to be true, trust me.”

“This isn’t funny, Cas. Is Dean hiding somewhere? He loves to pull pranks. Come on out asshole!” Sam looked around the corner of the shelves in the center of the room. They were alone.

“It’s just us, Sam.”

“Then you’re recording this,” he said stubbornly. “I can’t believe you let him rope you into this. You’re supposed to be the serious one.”

“I assure you that this is no prank. I’m sorry, kid. I saw his Bible on his writing desk… it was missing all the pages we found at the crime scenes. He was writing the letter when I showed up at your place.”

Sam stared past Castiel, and it was a moment before he spoke again. “Did you arrest him?” He asked quietly.

“He’s here in the interrogation room. I wanted to talk to him first. I didn’t want it to be true.”

“What did he say? Did he say he did it?”

“He said this wasn’t how he wanted me to find out about it.”

“But he didn’t say that he stabbed them? How do you know for sure? This is all circumstantial…”

“Sam,” Castiel reached out and put his hand on his partner’s shoulder. Sam flinched, but didn’t move away. “I’ve done this for a long time. He did it. We need an official confession. I can get him to say it, but I thought you’d want to talk to him before he’s booked officially. I owe you that much.”

“You’re wrong.” Sam’s voice broke. “You have to be.”

Castiel smiled weakly at his young partner.

When he started at the Sixty-Sixth Precinct, the older detectives always said that there would be one case that would make his career, one case that would change him forever. He had that case when he was a rookie himself, he fucked up and someone ended up dead. Looking at Sam, he knew that this was the kids case. Something was breaking inside the young detective right in front of Castiel’s eyes. There was no going back from a case like that.

“He’s my brother.”

“I know, kid.”

“He… fuck. Can I talk to him?”

Castiel nodded and opened the door to the evidence locker and let Sam out. He walked to the interrogation room, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He was frozen in place. “You’re wrong,” Sam said again, to no one in particular. It sounded like he was trying to convince himself to turn the knob with trembling fingers.

“Maybe,” Castiel said finally, even though it was a lie. The kid needed a push, and he had two hands capable of giving that to him.

Sam turned away from his partner, opening the door to enter the interrogation room alone.

“Sammy?” Dean said, standing up from sitting on the edge of the table. “I was expecting Cas.”

“Is it true?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is it true?”

“Sam, I…”

“Don’t, Dean,” Sam snapped, his eyes brimming with tears. “Don’t fucking lie to me. Don’t play like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

Dean sighed. “Sammy, you don’t remember this, but every night before we fell asleep mom would tell us that angels were watchin’ over us. It was a comfort, ya know? How could anything be bad when there are angels watchin’ over us?”

“I don’t remember that.”

“You were just a baby.” Dean scratched the back of his neck with a fond smile that quickly melted away. “Where was the angel that was supposed to be watchin’ over her? She is dead, Sam. I saw her burnin’. Do you know what that does to a kid? I still smell her burnin’. I still hear her screamin’ under the roar of the flames. I still see her when I close my eyes… I blamed the police for a long time. Since they didn’t find who did it.” He sighed and shook his head. “But it wasn’t until you became an officer that I realized they’re angels, too.”

Dean walked to his brother and held his face in between his palms. “You’re a fuckin’ angel, Sammy. You watch over people the best you can, but your hands are tied. You can’t do God's work because the system is failing. You can’t find justice, but me… my hands aren’t tied, Sammy. I am not held back by anythin’, not by a badge or a boss. I can help. Doesn’t that mean I have an obligation? I can fix it. I have to fix it.”

Sam stepped away from his brother, his forehead wrinkling. “Not that way, Dean. You aren’t God. It isn’t up to you or me to decide people’s fate. You aren’t God.”

Dean’s hands fell to his sides as Sam moved away from his touch.

“I know that, Sam. There is no God. Not anymore.” There was a darkness behind Dean’s eyes. He looked empty, almost as if he was looking into the flames right then.

“You killed them.” Sam swallowed hard.

“The Lord saw how great the wickedness of the human race had become on the earth, and that every inclination of the thoughts of the human heart was only evil all the time. The Lord regretted that he had made human beings on the earth, and his heart was deeply troubled. Genesis 6:5-6. God even knew that people were wicked, Sam. I am doin’ what He would want. I’m gettin’ justice.”

“Dean, God is good. The Bible says not to kill…”

“But Sammy, I saw you. You were so upset about the girl, Amara, about findin’ her killer. Then when I saw Crowley walk free; I couldn’t just let that happen. I couldn’t sit back while he hurt other girls,” Dean said almost desperately, walking toward his brother.

“We were taught right and wrong, Dean. Our whole life… you have to know that this was wrong.”

“I was taught right and wrong, Sammy. Mom taught me. She read me the Bible before bed. So when I lost her I learned it, more and more, a little at a time, and the more I learned, the more I knew.”

“Mom wouldn’t have wanted this, Dean. You can’t pretend you’re doing this for her… or for me.” Sam frowned, staring at his brother. It was like parts of Dean were peeling away right in front of him, and Sam knew, as desperately as he wanted Castiel to be wrong, that Dean did it.

“But Cas, man. He is the one. I knew that when I saw him. It was just gonna be Crowley, but then I saw him when Azazel walked. I already knew Azazel was bad. I invited him to the poker game, but when I saw Cas’ face… I knew he had to die. Do you know how terrifyin’ that is, Sammy? To see someone and to know that they are pure evil? You and Cas are good. I’m not. I never have been, but you are both my family. It is my job to get rid of the people in your way. To get rid of the evil. To find justice.”

“This doesn’t make any sense. It can’t be you,” Sam said, his hands shaking. His eyes flickered to his brother. “The morphine. Fuck. I should’ve known. It’s what they used at the hospital with Dad. Did you steal it?”

“He killed her, Sammy. You and I both know that.”

“We don’t, Dean. We never did. He was a bastard… but he was our father.”

“He deserved what he got.”

Sam peeled his eyes away from the gaze that his brother had him stuck in. “You killed him, too?”

“Detective Winchester, get out of there now, boy! Don’t make me tell you twice,” Captain Singer’s voice boomed over the intercom.

Sam stood up a little straighter and locked eyes with his brother one last time before he turned and exited the room. He could feel Dean’s eyes on his back even as the door shut.

“You two, my office, now, ” Captain Singer said through clenched teeth.

Castiel and Sam exchanged a look before following him into the cramped office.

“Shut the goddamn door.”

Sam let the door click shut and braced for the skinning they’d get. He was used to it, growing up being John’s son, but there was something different behind their Captain’s eyes.

“You two idgits better start talkin’, and you better make it real fuckin’ good, ya hear me? You better have a real good explanation for why you’ve got that boy in my interrogation room with ya.” He crossed his arms and watched Sam and Castiel staring back at him blankly. They didn’t have the words, at least not the ones that their Captain wanted to hear. “I’m missin’ birthdays here, boys.”

Castiel stepped forward. “It’s my fault, Captain.”

He raised a graying eyebrow. “The kid was talkin’ to him. Why?”

“When I was with Dean last night… I found some evidence linking him with the crimes of the Angel Killer.”

The Captain stood up a little straighter. “He’s a suspect?”

“He practically confessed,” Sam said through clenched teeth.

“And you two just took it into your own hands? You decided fuck the law, I’m not gonna call for backup, I’m going to interrogate him myself?”

“I don’t think we really thought it through, Cap,” Sam said like a little boy in trouble.

“Novak, did you call for backup to arrest him?”

“No, Sir.”

“So you did it yourself?”

“No, Sir.”

“What am I missin’ here?” He asked, quickly losing his patience.

“I didn’t arrest him.” Castiel picked at the skin around his thumbnail.

“You think he’s innocent?”

“...no.”

“Help me understand this, Novak. You found a criminal, believe him to have committed his crimes and didn’t arrest him?”

“It’s complicated Sir…”

“I know you’ve been havin’… relations with this man, and what you do on your own time is your own business, but if you two are right and he is a killer then you might have fucked this up. If he walks, I swear to God neither of you will ever work in this city again. Now go home while I figure out what to do with you.”

“Captain I’d like to stay… he is my brother,” Sam said weakly, still unable to truly grasp what was happening. Captain Singer looked at Sam, scratching his beard as if he was really thinking. His jaw was set, and it was pretty obvious to Sam that he was pissed. All that he knew, was that he couldn’t leave knowing what he knew. “I can answer any questions you have about him. Maybe I could be helpful.”

His captain gave a big, heavy sigh before shaking his head. “I’ll probably regret this, but you can stay, Winchester, just give me your badge and gun. If you’re here, you’re here as a civilian.”

Later that evening

“Hey,” Charlie said, lowering herself onto the stairs leading up to her apartment next to Castiel. He was sitting with his face in his hands. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling…”

He met the eyes of his friend, his own feeling bloodshot and swollen. “I found a liquor store, and I drank it,” he slurred.

“Oh my.”

“I’ve been so fucking stupid.”

“Hey, you’re not stupid,” Charlie said gently, her hand resting on his shoulder.

“I am. How did I miss this? It was right in front of my face. What kind of detective am I if I missed this?”

“None of us saw it.”

“But I fucked him. I slept next to him…”

“Sam lived with him, and he didn’t know,” she pointed out.

“The kid is a rookie. He doesn’t know his ass from his elbow.”

“Right,” Charlie said, pushing her hair behind her ears. “What’s this really about? You were interrogating him outside of protocol. You’d never do that, no matter what.”

“I needed answers.”

“Bobby put Hanscum and Mills on it, they’re pro’s. They’ll get the answers.”

He shook his head. It wasn’t the same. They were good cops, but they hadn’t been on the case. They didn’t know.

“Cas,” Charlie said, treading lightly. “It’s okay to miss him, to be disappointed.”

“I’m only disappointed that I didn’t see it sooner.”

“So you could save yourself the pain?”

His head snapped to hers, his vision blurred, from the alcohol, or maybe the tears that stung his eyes. “No, to save people from being murdered. What kind of self centered person do you think I am?”

“I don’t think you’re self centered. I don’t think you’re self centered at all, actually. Not even enough to mourn for the man that you love. You should mourn, Cas. It’s okay to be devastated.”

“I’m not devastated,” Castiel snapped. She wasn’t understanding. It was all a lie, it had been from the beginning. Killers always got close to the head detective in their case. Dean managed to insert himself right in the middle of the investigation, and Cas didn’t even notice. Charlie would never understand how sick it made him. “He killed three men. Four, most likely. His father’s death was suspicious… I’m just...” He sighed in frustration, curling his hands into fists. “I’m not sad. I’m pissed off. I’m furious.”

“Okay,” she said, a slight irritation in her voice. “It’s okay to be furious. He lied to you.”

“He is a murderer, Charlie! That’s it! I let him get close to me, distract me so he could kill people! I didn’t notice, and I will never be able to forgive myself for that. End of story.” He stood up, wiped his sweaty palms on his gray slacks and pushed out into the white, snow speckled evening air, leaving his badge and gun on the steps behind him.

Six months later

“This is a collect call from the New York State Prison, will you accept these charges?”

“No.” Click.

It had been six months since Dean Winchester was arrested. Six months since he confessed to all crimes. Three counts of premeditated murder.

It had been six months since Castiel hopped in a cab and took it to New Jersey to visit his brother Gabriel. He was hiding. Hiding from his job, from his partner, from New York, from the guilt, but most of all he was hiding from Dean.

It had been six months since he’d had a nightmare. The only demon he had left to face was himself.

He received one letter a week since Dean was incarcerated. He didn’t open any of them. Dean called and called, but Castiel never agreed to speak with him.

Since the weather had warmed up, Castiel was gardening out behind Gabriel’s house. Despite living in the city his whole life, he was doing surprisingly well. He stared at his blank phone screen that read Call Ended, his hands still dirty from planting his tomato seeds.

“Want a beer?” Gabe called out from the house.

“Okay,” Castiel said, wiping the dirt from his palms onto his jeans.

His brother popped the caps off the beers and met Castiel halfway, his arm extended. “He call again?”

“Why do you ask?” Castiel asked, putting the bottle to his lips.

“You always get that look when he calls.”

Cas sighed against his beer bottle. “He won’t take a hint.”

“Why don’t you block the phone number?”

Why didn’t he? “I don’t know.” He looked down the neck of the beer, as if the answer was in the foam.

“Maybe you should go see him. Seems like you didn’t get any closure.”

“It feels pretty final to me,” Castiel said, tipping the bottle back to his lips again.

“Come on, little brother. You don’t have to lie to me. Have you talked to Sam?”

“On and off.”

Gabriel scratched his chin. “What does he have to say?”

“I told him I didn’t want to talk about Dean,” he sighed. “Bobby gave him a pass, and he’s on probation, but he’s still working in homicide. He says he misses his partner, but I told him I’m done.”

“You can work at the comedy club with me.” Gabe wiggled his eyebrows. “I’m working on an act right now that includes some close-up magic.”

“As exciting as that is,” Castiel said through clenched teeth, “I don’t know how much longer I’ll be here.”

“You just planted a vegetable. You’ll be here for awhile.”

“Tomatoes are fruit,” Castiel deadpanned.

“Right.” Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose. “Where will you go if you leave?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never taken a vacation in my life.”

“Oh trust me, I know.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “My point is… I don’t know where I will go. Anywhere else.”

“You can stay however long you need to, brother.”

“I know. I appreciate it,” Cas said with a sigh. The condensation on the outside of the bottle mixed with the dirt on his hands. He reached down and wiped them on his jeans, leaving muddy, smeared handprints on his thighs. “I don’t mean to be such a burden.”

“Are you kidding me? My house has never been this clean.”

“I believe that.” He laughed dryly.

Gabriel took a swig of his beer. “Charlie’s been calling for you. Are you going to ignore her forever? I think she will come out here eventually if you do. I can only keep her at bay for so long.”

“Did you tell her I was here?”

“She knows.”

“How?” Castiel narrowed his eyes at his older brother.

Gabriel shrugged.

“You told her.”

“She is hard to say no to.”

“You were bested by a girl.”

“Hey,” Gabriel snapped. “She is more than a girl. She’s inhuman.”

Cas snickered. “Don’t I know it,” he sighed again and stared at the bubbles dissipating inside of his bottle.

“You’re not going to feel like this forever. I know sometimes things feel pretty endless, but I’ve got it on good authority that eventually the bad shit stops.”

“I don’t know how to make it stop.”

Gabriel reached into his back pocket and pulled out a letter addressed to Detective Castiel Novak, and he placed the letter in Cas’ hand. “I’d start with closure. Shut the door and lock it, man, it’s the only way you’ll be able to really move on.”

Castiel took the letter and stared at the familiar scrawl on the front of the envelope. It would match two dozen more that sat in a drawer in his bedroom, all unopened. He looked at the letter like an old friend, a temptation, a kiss stolen under the moonlight. He looked at it like it was from the Dean that he thought he knew, instead of a stranger in an orange jumpsuit. He looked at it like it was from a man that he loved in a different life, instead of the one that he loved in this one. Instead of the one that broke him.

Two weeks later

Castiel Novak didn’t dream while he slept. His unconscious mind was filled with a buzzing emptiness. He almost missed the nightmares.

“No! Enough, Gabe! You can’t hide him anymore. This isn’t healthy. He loves that goddamn job, and he’s a New Yorker! He hasn’t set foot in the city in half a year.”

“I know that,” Gabriel said with a huff. “I’ve tried everything! I even put temporary purple hair dye in his shampoo a few months ago and he didn’t care, Charlie. Do you get that? I prank him, I make jokes, and he just doesn’t fucking notice. He is a shell. This guy fucked him up.”

“You’re protective of him. I know, because I am too. He’s my person. Let me help him.”

“He doesn’t want help.”

“Respectfully, I don’t give two shits what he wants. Now move out of my way, or I’ll make you move .”

It was no real surprise to Castiel when Charlie busted into his room not more than a minute later. She walked right to his bed and scooted in next to him, pulling his quilt over their heads. They laid on their sides, face to face, nose to nose. “Hey,” she breathed.

“I knew you’d come eventually.”

“Are you going to make this hard or easy?”

“What do you think?”

“Hard it is.” She smiled widely. “Sweetie, I know you’re in a bad place.”

“That’s an understatement,” he admitted quietly. It was hard to lie when it was just Charlie.

“You miss him.”

“No.”

She gave him a look, her eyebrow raised and her head tilting more into the pillow like fucking really?

He sucked in his breath, feeling a sob threatening to creep up his throat before he nodded twice. “It feels really fucked up to miss him.”

“We can’t help who we love, Cas. You’re a gay man, so I know you know that already.” Charlie wrapped an arm around him. “I can’t let you do this to yourself.”

“Do what?”

“Punish yourself. You’ve done enough, honey. You’ve done enough.”

Castiel didn’t believe her. He couldn’t, but there was something in her tone that was painfully maternal. Something that made his heart ache. “He is sending me letters.”

“What do they say?”

“I have no idea. I can’t open them. They’re all in a drawer haunting me.”

“Do you want to read them?”

“No,” he said, and it felt like the biggest lie he’d ever told.

“Then why are you keeping them?” There was that look again.

“Because… if they’re there then I can always change my mind and read them.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

Charlie put her hands on either side of Castiel’s cheeks and looked into his eyes. “For being honest with me for the first time in six months.” She forced a smile. “I’m mad at him, too. Especially for what he did to you and the kid.”

“The seasoned detectives always talked about the one case that they could never get past. I was certain that it was Benny.” His voice broke from saying the name out loud after so many years. “I didn’t think anything could be worse than that, but this . It has to be this, Charlie. I’m never getting past this. I am a ruined man.”

“You aren’t ruined. You’re hurt, but we always keep fighting, Cas. It’s what we do. You get knocked down, and you get up again.”

“Do not say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

“I won’t say it, but only because I think you get the picture.” She moved her hands from his face and propped herself up so she was looking down at him. “What if Harry Potter decided that he couldn’t fight Voldemort because he was just Harry? No matter how many times that you are knocked down you have to get back up. It’s up to you, and fuck it, it’s up to me, too.”

“I don’t understand that reference,” he said with a desperate frustration.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I know, Cassy, okay? It’s just the sentiment. I’m just saying, get back up, Rocky. You’ve gotta keep going. You’ve gotta try again, or you’ll never survive this.”

Castiel ran his tongue along his bottom lip, wetting it, before he let out a shaky sigh. “Okay.”

“Great,” she said, brightly. “Now get up, take a shower and brush your goddamn teeth because your breath is disgusting.” She laughed, poking his nose. “It’s time, Cassy.”

“I know it is,” he agreed, sitting up.

Charlie hopped out of his bed and walked to his window, opening up the curtains. “We have to get you the hell out of Jersey, Novak, I’m serious. This is where joy comes to die.”

“Don’t tell that to Gabe, he sells joy for a living.”

Charlie laughed outright. “You clearly haven’t seen his show if you think he’s selling joy.”

“Touché.”

Later that afternoon

“Are you ready?” Charlie turned to Castiel in the backseat of the cab.

“No.”

She took his hand in hers. “You can do this, and afterwards we can get really, really drunk.”

“I’ll take you up on that one,” Cas said sadly, squeezing her hand. “I hate you for making me do this.”

“That’s okay. You can hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” he said, wrapping her in a hug. “Thank you for making me get up.”

“I was worried that you’d get bedsores.” He could feel her grin widely against his shoulder.

“We wouldn’t want that.”

“You’re much too pretty for bedsores,” Charlie said pushing his too-long-hair out of his eyes. He was well overdue for a haircut.

Castiel leaned forward and placed a kiss on her cheek. “You’re pretty, too.”

“Quit trying to romance me, Novak. I’m not into all of that.”

“Likewise.” Castiel laughed for a moment, before it stifled into a sigh. “I suppose I should go in.”

“You are racking up the cab fare.”

“Subtly does not become you, Charlotte.”

“I brought a book. I’ll wait outside for you,” Charlie said, pushing him gently toward the door of the cab.

“Alright, alright. I’m going.” He shut the door behind him, and walked the long walkway to the front of the jail. He signed in. He was searched and scanned.

He didn’t want to go, but somewhere deep inside of him he knew that it was the only way. He knew, if he couldn’t read Dean’s words, that seeing him could make a difference. It had to, because in the previous six months nothing had helped pull him out of the grief hole that he’d been buried in.

The inside of the prison was gray and hollow like the emptiness within his own chest. He could hear the beat of his heart like the sound of a knock on a door. It echoed through him like the voices over the intercom inside of the prison.

“Follow me,” the guard said, leading Castiel to the visiting area. He gestured to the seat at the far end.

“Thank you,” Castiel said quietly before settling into his chair. One of the legs on the chair was uneven. He was leaning slightly to the left and every time he shifted his weight the leg clicked back down onto the tile floor. He stared through the fingerprinted glass and wondered when it had been cleaned last.

He was so distracted by the fingerprints of the longing that he didn’t see Dean approach, and suddenly he was there. He was handcuffed, and while Castiel could admit that he used to imagine Dean in handcuffs, it wasn’t like this. It wasn’t while he was in a gray pair of scrubs behind a fingerprinted glass.

Dean was smiling, and he looked like he’d lost weight. Castiel could make out the point in his cheekbones and his jaw was more defined. He looked tired, with darkening half moons under his sparkling green eyes. His freckles looked less frequent across his cheekbones, and Castiel wondered if he had imagined the night sky across his boyfriend’s face, or if perhaps they’d truly faded like dying stars. Perhaps he’d been inside, out of the sun all of these months.

Dean reached for the phone and tapped it, causing Castiel to almost jump out of his skin. He glanced at the phone. Was he really going to do it? He thought back to the dozens of letters in his drawer taunting him and picked up the receiver.

“Hello, Detective.”

“I’m not a detective anymore,” Castiel said flatly, his stomach flipping at the rough sound of Dean’s voice.

Dean seemed to scoot in to be closer to Castiel, even though there was a table and smudged glass between them. “Why not?”

“It wasn’t for me.”

His forehead wrinkled in confusion. “But you loved that job. You were good at it.”

“Not good enough.”

“You were always good enough.”

They sat in silence, Castiel’s eyes flickering down to his lap.

Dean cleared his throat. “You look good, Cas.” He smiled, changing the subject. “Very handsome.”

Castiel stared at him. He didn’t know what to say. He felt like he was standing next to his body looking down at some sad sack. He wouldn’t be Liz Kendall pining after a serial killer. He knew what Dean did and no amount of flattery could erase those facts.

“They said after the trial I may be able to move to a place with a view. A real view.” Dean smiled widely. “Maybe I could get some writing done… but ya know, I wouldn’t want to go too far from Sammy... from you.”

“It’s not like you have much of a say.”

“Right, but I just meant… If I had a choice I wouldn’t try to leave you. I wouldn’t give up on us.”

“Us?” Castiel shifted in his seat, the leg clacked against the tile. “There is no us, Dean.”

“Sure there is,” Dean said, blinking rapidly. “You love me and you’re… you’re family. Me, you, and Sammy are family. You don’t just walk out on family. Sure, it isn’t ideal, but all relationships have problems, right?”

Castiel’s upper lip twitched. “This isn’t a problem, Dean.”

“It isn’t? Fuck… that’s a relief to hear…”

He put up a hand to quiet Dean before he spun out of control. “It isn’t a problem because there’s no us anymore. I can’t just overlook this. It’s over.”

“I… shit.” Dean’s fingers ran through his hair, his eyes flickering away from Castiel’s. “I didn’t mean for that to happen, man.”

Castiel’s heart leapt around his chest like a rabbit in a cage. It banged against his rib cage. He rubbed his sternum, trying to calm it. “And what did you mean to happen, Dean?”

“Did you read my letters?”

Castiel shook his head. “That’s why I’m here.”

“Cas, you have to read them. Please.” His eyes were back up, his palm pressing against the glass.

“No, Dean.”

“I thought you liked the whole bad boy thing,” Dean joked with a glint in his eye and a shit eating smirk planted on his lips.

“No,” Castiel said, clenching his fists. “I don’t.”

“Cas, come on. I’m not some kind of psycho. You know me.”

“I don’t know you!” Castiel snapped. “I don’t know you at all. I thought I loved you, but I was wrong. I was in love with who I wanted you to be. You’re a murderer, and I would never be with someone who is capable of that.”

Dean looked like he’d been hit, he recoiled, his face twisting in hurt. His hand fell back to his lap with a soft thud. “You’re wrong. What we have is real…”

“It was never real, Dean. How could it be? Everything was a lie.”

“Not everything.”

“That’s what it looks like from where I’m sitting.” Castiel swallowed and the leg of the chair scratched angrily against the tile. “Stop calling me. Stop writing me. Just let me go, Dean. If you care like you say you do, you’ll let me go.”

Dean sucked in his breath like he took a blow to the gut. As Castiel turned to hang up the phone that connected them, Dean reached for the glass again. He pressed his fingers against it longingly. “Just read the letters, Cas. I explained everything… if you read them you’ll see.”

Castiel shook his head. “I burned them,” he said as he hung up the phone.

Two hours later

“This should be illegal.” Castiel complained into his whiskey glass.

“You love it,” Charlie said, holding her microphone in her hand as she tried to sing along with the words on the screen. “Kiss me like you wanna be loved.”

“Just because you’re a redhead does not mean it’s required to sing Ed Sheeran.”

“Us gingers have to stick together, Cas, don’t you know? Shit, you got me off the words umm…”

He laughed, a good hearty laugh and damn did it feel good.

Being a queer man meant that Castiel Novak was not unfamiliar with pain. It lived inside him from the moment he realized he was different, to the moment he moved out of his house when his father couldn’t stand to look at him anymore. The pain grew less and less the older he got. When he became a detective, the pain was almost gone completely. He no longer carried shame like an extra weight around his middle. He was comfortable with himself.

The pain had returned, but it was no longer his sexuality that plagued him. It was Dean. The way his heart ached for Dean was crippling. The moment he came back to New York, him crept back through the cracks of Cas’ carefully built walls. Seeing him at the jail didn’t help matters, and all he could hope for was that time was on his side. That the theory that all wounds eventually healed would be true in his case.

In the meantime, he had whiskey, and a bartender with a heavy pour.

He jingled his empty glass and the bartender filled his glass. “You’re a good one, Tom. Don’t ever forget that,” he slurred gently.

The bartender winked at him, making his cheeks warm up. Nope. No more relationships for you Castiel. You are celibate. You’re a nun. A priest. You’re not hooking up with anyone else! Plus, he isn’t Dean. He tried to shake off that thought as Charlie abandoned the rest of her song and waltzed up to him.

“The stage wasn’t ready for me.”

“Sure wasn’t.”

“Charlie! Hey!” A familiar voice said.

Castiel turned slowly, the whiskey in his veins weighing him down like wet clothes. He didn’t need to turn to know who the voice belonged to, Cas could pick the kid out of a line up blindfolded. “Sam.”

“Cas, hey.”

Eileen waved, her arm through Sam’s, and his eyes flickered to her as he signed, nice to see you.

Same , she signed back with a smile, are you okay?

Castiel shrugged lightly at her before his looked back to Sam. He’d spoken to him in the last six months, but seeing him was a completely different situation. The whiskey that had settled in Cas’ stomach began to churn angrily. “Rookie, want a drink?”

“He’s not a Rookie anymore, Cas,” Charlie said with a grin as she sipped on her rum and coke. “Isn’t that right? Our little boy is all grown up!”

The kids plaid shirt was tucked in, wrinkle free, but his sleeves were still pushed up to his elbows. He looked fucking exhausted, his hair a new level of shaggy, and his jaw sported a thickening beard. He wasn't sure what he expected to see, part of him thought that time stood still while he was at Gabriels, but the biggest part of him expected to come back to a completely new city. The pieces of his life that stuck and the pieces that changed were almost so minuscule and random that it left him completely unsettled.

“I guess not,” Castiel said. “A lot has changed since I’ve been away.”

“Are you coming back to work?” Sam asked, shifting his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. His body language was discomfort, but his eyes told Cas a completely different story. They were hazel, but glinting a strong green against the green plaid in his shirt, and they were focused. It had to be a trait that he’d picked up from his brother. Dean was the only person that Castiel had ever known to hold such an intense gaze, that sometimes he thought that Dean could see right through his skin and into his soul.

“I don’t think so, kid,” he said, gripping his whiskey glass like it’d keep him from drowning.

“We miss you around there.”

“It’s just not right, not anymore,” Castiel said before taking another swig of his drink. The room was seconds from spinning, so he closed his eyes and tried to center himself. That didn’t last long, though. It was hard to hide from Dean when his face popped up every time Castiel closed his eyes. Hello, Detective. Chills ran up his spine, and he sat down his glass.

“The trial is next week,” Sam said, running his fingers along the outside of his beer bottle, rubbing designs into the bottle’s sweat. “Are you going?” Sam looked at Castiel like he wanted something from him, like he expected Cas to fix every problem that he had with one simple yes .

Castiel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. The kid was looking at Cas, like he was sure that he looked at Dean. “I don’t think so, Sam.”

“It would mean a lot to me to have some familiar faces, and I know it’d mean a lot to my brother.”

Castiel stood up from his seat and swayed a little, his hand catching the bar top to steady himself. His eyes settled on Sam’s chin, Dean’s chin . The way that he talked, tilting his head to the side, was all Dean, and Cas couldn’t fucking take it anymore. “Sam, I don’t mean to be rude, but he doesn’t deserve me being there.”

“Sweetie, don’t,” Charlie said, putting her hand out, but he gestured it away, his eyes not leaving Sam’s.

“He broke my fucking heart,” he said, his voice cracking, breaking into pieces. “I shouldn’t have to go and watch that. It’ll hurt too much. It’ll hurt too fucking much.”

One month later

“Where are you going?” Gabriel asked, leaning against the door frame to Castiel’s room.

Cas looked up at his brother from his open suitcase. “I need to start over, Gabriel.”

“I know.” He nodded with understanding in his eyes. Gabe was always such a child, but he was there when Castiel needed him. There wasn't much else that he could ask for in a brother.

“I think I’m going to California. I just need to be somewhere else. A different coast, a different time zone.”

“You can’t run forever.”

“I’m not running,” he sighed, laying down the shirt that he was folding. “At least I’m not trying to. I want to be happy again someday, and I don’t think I can do that here. There’s too much history. It’s smothering.”

“I understand.” Gabriel nodded and moved from the door, opening his arms for a hug.

Cas met his brother’s embrace, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing tightly. “Thank you for everything.”

“Thanks for leaving me with a goddamned garden. Don’t be mad if you come back and they’re all dead,” Gabriel said, giving him a squeeze before releasing him. “Don’t be a stranger. You have my number.”

“I do,” Castiel agreed with a nod.

“Alright, well I have a rehearsal for the show tonight. We have to go through light and sound queues. Will you be gone tonight?”

“I think so.”

“Are you going by the trial on your way out? They’re determining the verdict today, right?”

“Are they?” Castiel asked dumbly. “I hadn’t realized.”

“Hm.” Gabriel shrugged. “Maybe I’m wrong. Call me when you land.”

“I will,” he said, watching his brother leave.

He walked to his desk and pulled out his papers and his pens. He wasn’t an extravagant man, and he didn’t own many things, but the things he owned were his. He’d lost enough, and he wasn't prepared to part with anything else, no matter how small.

He opened up his last desk drawer and stared at the pile of white envelopes. Detective Castiel Novak. He sucked in his breath and pulled them out. Writing love letters long hand always sounded so romantic, but staring at the letters seemed like something else altogether. It felt daunting, heavy. He closed his eyes and pressed the letters to his chest like a hug. Dean. His mind called out like it was second nature, and he lowered himself down to a seated position on the end of the bed. He stared at the letters, willing his x-ray vision to absorb the information without making his hands rip the envelopes open to truly expose their secrets. Once they were open there was no going back.

Fuck it.

He tore open the one on the top, his heartbeat racing at the sound of paper ripping and his finger running along the inside of the envelope. He pulled out the page and unfolded it.

Dear Detective Novak,

Hey, Cas. I’ve been staring at this page for an hour trying to decide what to say. What could I say that would make a difference? I don’t have that answer, but I know I’ve always been more articulate on the page, so I will take what I can get. I’ve made a mistake, Sweetheart. I fucked up. I let my impulses get the best of me. The same way as when I kissed you back in the alley. I knew it was right, in my gut, so I did it.

It was the best kiss of my life. I thought I got high off that kiss. That kiss changed me. You changed me, even though I’m sure you won’t believe that. I know what I look like to you, I just want you to understand… life is full of disappointments. Dads who drink way too much and beat you stupid for wearing a pair of pink panties, even though a girl dared you to do it, and Moms who die. They burn alive and no one bothers to find the answers. The bad guys get away. I couldn’t let that happen to anyone else. I couldn’t let it happen to you, because you’re good, Cas. You’re better than I’d ever be. I know that because I am shitting in an open room with three other guys, and you’re out there living your life.

You deserve that life, Cas. I just hate myself for removing myself from that situation, because we could’ve had a life together, you know? The kids, a dog, the whole nine. I would’ve liked that. I’m sure you don’t believe me, but I do love you. I don’t say that shit lightly, Cas. I love you, man. You’re the one. You were always the one.

Dean

Dear Detective Novak,

Hey, Sweetheart. I got some yard time today, and I just kept thinking, damn that sky is blue just like my blue eyed angel. Looking up at the sky reminded me that I’m under the same sky that you’re under. That gave me some kind of peace, man. I never thought I could handle jail, but knowing that you’re out there helps.

I know you don’t approve of my methods, Cas, but it isn’t all bad. Krystal visited me the other day, and she thanked me for killing Crowley. I didn’t do it for the thanks, but some of those girls are going back to college and their families! That’s a win, right? We have to take all the wins we can get. I hope you aren’t too mad at me, Detective. I couldn’t stand it if I lost you forever.

But I figure nothing too bad can happen on a day where the sky is this blue. It’d just be wrong, and there’s enough wrong in this goddamn world, so I’ll take the good where I can get it. The sun on my face, sriracha ramen from the commissary, and you.

Dean

Dear Detective Novak,

So I’ve been thinking about first loves lately. I know, what a hard prison thought to have! I better not let the boys here find out that I’m made of cotton candy or I’ll be a bottom for sure, and I’ll only bottom for one guy, you hear?

Anyway, I was thinking about first loves. I always thought my first love was this dame Lisa from high school. She did cheer and yoga, and damn it if she wasn’t flexible. She was nice and funny (sorry, not trying to make you jealous. I’ll get to the point), but no matter what she had going for her, she didn’t make me feel a quarter of what I feel for you. I always thought at almost thirty I would be too old to have another first, but fuck, if there was anyone before you I don’t remember them one bit.

You light me up, baby. I promised myself I wouldn’t shit out a bunch of clichés, but you do that to me. You make them sound good. Damn it, you make everything sound good. Maybe it wasn't our time, Cas. Maybe it was fate, the fault in our stars, or maybe it was just me. Maybe I fucked it all up, but I think in another life it could be us. It will be us, because this isn’t something that just happens, you know?

This is real, Cas. It has to be.

Dean

Dear Detective Novak,

I love you with all the stars in the sky. I love you like I love pie. I didn’t say it enough, and I’ll never be able to forgive myself for that. I’d give it all up just to hear you say you love me one more time. Damn, I sound like a chick. Forget I said anything. Write me back, even just to tell me how gay this all sounds. Anything. I miss hearing from you. I miss your dry humor and your shitty attitude. I just miss you, ok?

Dean

Castiel was in the car before he knew it, his suitcase still open on the bed. He still clutched the letters in his hand for dear life as he backed out of Gabriel’s driveway and headed toward the city. Toward him. He needed answers that not even a dozen letters could give him.

Dean was a monster. No, Dean was a man, nothing more or less. Men make mistakes. Some are forgivable and some are not. Castiel didn’t grow up believing in God, despite his angelic name. Castiel meant shield of God in Hebrew, so it was no real surprise that someone desperate for justice came to fall in love with him.

Perhaps it was wrong for Castiel to love Dean at all. Perhaps that love was long gone, as he had assured Dean the last day he saw him, but how could he know for certain if he didn’t see him one last time? Gabriel talked about closure, and Castiel knew, as the space closed between himself and New York City, that he had never gotten that closure. It wasn’t about slamming the door shut on Dean Winchester. It wasn’t about seeing him in that prison and knowing that he did the things that Castiel was most afraid of, it was about another end altogether. It was about saying goodbye to Dean and his feelings for Dean. Castiel hadn’t said goodbye, and this would be his last chance. If he hadn’t missed it already.

He got out of the car blocks away from the courthouse, knowing he wouldn’t be able to find anything closer. He shoved the letters in the back pocket of his slacks, and he ran. He ran, pushing past other people on the street. He could hear his shoes smack the concrete, the scratch of the chair against the tile in the jail, Dean saying his name in the darkness, and the beat of his heart in his chest. He pushed harder. “Get out of my way!”

It felt like the end of a romantic comedy, like he was running to break up a wedding or to confess his love. Except this time, there would be no confession, no wedding, and all Castiel expected was pain. He expected it to hurt, to watch him be led away in handcuffs, but he ran toward Dean anyway.

He half expected to find himself trapped back in that endless nightmare cycle that he’d been in over and over again, only to wake up next to Dean, but there was no rain on his face, the sun was out, and the walls weren’t closing in. Reality was so much worse than his nightmares.

The streets were crowded with onlookers, with protesters, with reporters. It was bustling, even more so than the usual New York City bustle. He pushed past the people to the tape separating the walkway from the crowd. Across from him he locked eyes with Sam, Eileen, and Charlie. He could see Charlie mouth his name, yet he heard nothing but the door from the courthouse opening.

Next to him the reporters called out questions, with their recording devices stuck well over the line, obscuring Castiel’s view of Dean. It was over. There was a weight in the air. An armed officer held one of Dean’s arms handcuffed behind his back. He wore a suit, and his collar stuck out from the neck of his suit, and Castiel’s heart squeezed at the image. Sometimes, Dean seemed like such a child, and when he turned and the sunlight glinted in the green of his eye, he looked hopeful. Fuck, he looked innocent.

Dean smiled when his eyes caught Castiel’s, bright and big. His left shoulder lifted a bit as if to wave, as if he’d forgotten that he was chained. As if he’d forgotten that he and Castiel weren’t the only two men on the street. Hi, Dean mouthed with a wink. Castiel was still angry, but in that moment his stomach flipped. There was something about the wrinkles around Dean’s eyes when he smiled, they made Castiel dizzy. They made him a little hopeful, too.

It all happened so fast.

It always does, doesn’t it? The day turning to night, falling in love, dying all happen in a blink.

Dean was still grinning in a way that was stupidly beautiful, even as his eyes widened in shock. His body jolted backwards a bit, his shoulder hitting the guard to his left from the impact. He was knocked completely off his feet, and Dean was usually so steady.

A gunshot is not an unfamiliar sound to a detective in the NYPD. With the point he was at in his career, Castiel could easily tell the difference between a firework, a car backfiring, or a true gunshot. He’d shot many at the gun range, heard them in the field, and shot many rounds of his own weapon, sometimes at targets, sometimes at people. He was taught to shoot to kill, don’t give the motherfuckers a second chance to attack.

So when Castiel heard the bang echo off the buildings, he didn’t hesitate. Perhaps it was instinct, or maybe it was the way Dean’s eyes had lit up when he caught Castiel in the crowd.

Cas leaped over the tape separating them, and the guards sprang into action, raising their own weapons. He managed to push behind them and catch Dean seconds before his head hit the ground. “Fuck,” he whispered, looking up at the ex-detective.

Castiel moved his eyes from Dean’s face to his bleeding abdomen. “Oh my god.” It looked like it hit an artery. A red rush of blood, like a dam being broken.

“Shit, does it look like that scene from The Shining?” Dean asked with a dry, strained laugh.

“Shut up,” Castiel murmured, putting pressure on the wound.

“Cas I...” He gasped out in pain as Castiel applied more pressure. Maybe to help, or maybe to just get him to be fucking quiet for once.

“Just focus on not dying, okay?”

Dean nodded with a wince, as if that was going to be tough.

Castiel could feel the heat of the sun on his back as the guards moved toward the crowd.

“You don’t understand!” A woman cried out. “He is a murderer! He killed my husband… my sweet Lucas. He was… he could be a monster… but he was mine. I loved him.” Her voice seemed to come from nowhere in particular. Castiel closed his eyes.

Mrs. Azazel. Of course. Castiel would never forget his interview with her. He wondered if she had Stockholm Syndrome with how much she defended her husband against his actions towards their daughter. He felt sick. When he opened his eyes Dean was looking up at him. His face was growing more and more pale by the moment.

Dean’s blood was seeping through Castiel’s fingers. His hands were slick with it. No amount of pressure was enough. He could hear the sirens from the ambulance coming, but it wasn’t fast enough. Everything was in slow motion.

It was all so slow, but in another way it was instant.

Castiel didn’t feel the pain. It was more like a pinch, a mosquito bite against his back. Another shot rang through the air, and it sounded like his mother’s prize vase shattering into a million pieces on the tile floor. He held his position on his knee to keep Dean in place.

He always thought he would’ve made an excellent soldier. Castiel Novak was a good man in a storm.

“Somebody take her down, for God sakes!” Castiel commanded. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t an officer anymore or that he was no one's superior, his presence demanded respect wherever he went.

The crowd was a wild mass of hysterical screaming. Sobbing. But Castiel was calm. His eyes were focused on the freckles on Dean’s cheekbones alone. Suddenly he believed the theory about angel kisses causing more freckles. He could leave a thousand.

“Detective, you’re bleeding”

“I’m fine, barely grazed me. Just stay awake for me, okay? Keep your breathing steady.”

“You were shot. I got you shot.” Dean's voice was shaking. It was a rough whisper as the blood continued to pool on his abdomen. His shoulders pulled forward as he seemed to try to reach out, but his hands were still chained in place.

“You didn’t do anything. This isn’t on you,” Castiel said, forcing a smile. “I’m good. Trust me. You’re the one bleeding all over the place. You always have to be the center of attention, don’t you?”

“You know me, a real attention whore.” Dean smiled a bit, despite the blood that trickled down the corner of his mouth. “You came.”

“Don’t be inappropriate. We are in public,” Castiel said through clenched teeth. It was a poor attempt at a joke. He clutched Dean’s wound with one hand, his other under Dean’s head.

“You love it,” Dean gasped, and closed his eyes.

He did. “Hey, hey look at me.”

“Don’t gotta ask me twice,” Dean said, his voice hoarse. “I never get tired of lookin’ at ya. Those fuckin’ blue eyes.”

“It’s just you and me, Dean. Okay?” Cas said, gasping from the stinging pain that danced up through the wound on his back. His hands were shaking.

“Detective?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t cry for me, okay?” Dean asked, turning his head to place a gentle, tear-soaked kiss on the inside of Castiel’s wrist. “We always get what we deserve. I always knew it would end like this for me. I’m goin’ out like an outlaw, and you can’t cry for an outlaw, Detective,” he said, his voice barely a strained whisper.

Castiel dipped his face down to Dean’s. “Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” he whispered before pressing his lips to Dean’s one more time. Cas kissed him slowly and deliberately, like a last confession, until the pain and the darkness overtook them both.

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