When Castiel disappeared abruptly, taking the psychiatrist's body with him, Bobby nearly collapsed. He was sitting now on the couch next to John; both men looked shell-shocked.
Sam's eyes shifted from his father and uncle, to Dean. He met the other's green gaze, and Dean moved to his side.
"Okay, Sammy?" the older teen asked softly, reaching out to brush a finger down his cheek.
He nodded and shot the other as much of a smile as he could manage. His brother had been right. Twelve years in the hospital, at the hands of that demon doctor, when he had been right all along. He swallowed hard, hands shaking suddenly as the adrenaline of earlier began to wear off.
Sam turned his gaze to John as the man muttered a low curse almost beneath his breath. John ran a hand over his face before raising his eyes to Dean.
"Dean, I'm – I was – I'm sorry. You were right, all these years and – I didn't know. I'm sorry."
Dean stared at the man for a moment, before shifting his eyes to Sam. Sam reached out and caught hold of his brother's hand as Dean moved closer to him. He glared at his father, a silent challenge, as the man's eyes fell on their locked hands, then raised to look him in the face.
There was no way in hell he was letting go of his brother. Not for John, not for all the demons on the planet, not for anything. Never again.
John saw the challenge etched in Sam's features, and he saw the wariness etched in Dean's. He remained silent, biting down the urge to demand that Sam release his hold on the older teen. There were, he figured, more important things to consider right now. Like the fact a demon had just been in his living room. Like the fact an angel had killed the demon, and then whisked his body away into thin air.
Like the fact that he had left his son in a mental hospital for twelve years, and the boy had been right about the supernatural beings he had been claiming were real all along. Like the fact that the doctor he had entrusted with Dean's care had been the very demon Dean had tried to warn him about.
His fingers tugged at his hair as he ran a hand through it. It wasn't like it was something easy to believe – even now he could barely believe it. He hadn't had any proof, any indication that those things existed.
Realization struck him, yet again, as he raised his eyes to his sons. He hadn't tried to believe. The notion that demons and angels and other supernatural beings were real had been so far-fetched, that he had blown off any consideration that Dean was speaking the truth. That his son wasn't as .. hell, as crazy.. as he had believed. Schizophrenia aside, Dean had been right.
Sam had listened, though. He had tried to convince John to consider that maybe there was some truth in what Dean had been, for years, trying to tell him. His younger son had listened, and had actually taken in what Dean had been saying: hell, he had been the only one listening, apparently.
He muttered another curse as guilt rose up in him. His eyes fell on Dean – the young man was watching him with a look of uneasiness and, yes, mistrust – on his face. John shook his head and rubbed at his temple: this was too much to process. All of it.
John looked over at Bobby as his brother asked suddenly,
"How many of those – how many are there? An angel, that's what your friend is?"
Dean shrugged a shoulder, eyes on the far corner of the room. "Don't know," he answered, "Don't have a headcount. Cas is the only angel I've ever met, except maybe Gabriel. Demons though, seen a couple of them since being out, and before, in the hospital."
"Gabriel?" John stared at the teenagers for a moment, "Sam's Gabriel?" He shook his head – again, too much to process right now.
"I'm sorry, Dean," he told his oldest son again, eyes meeting the young man's. Dean only shrugged a shoulder, before moving to slip his arms around Sam and press his face against the younger boy's neck. Just as he had in the hospital. Just as he did every time he needed to feel safe. That realization struck John like a hard slap to the face, and he closed his eyes as that guilt clawed at him again.
His eyes returned to Dean as he heard the young man mutter, "Then I'll deal with 'em. Just shut it." The boy's eyes were focused on the far corner of the room, and he had a look of annoyance on his face.
Dean had been right about supernatural beings, and he saw and spoke with something only he could see. There was definitely no parenting manual for any of this.
John and Bobby both jerked in surprise as they found an angel suddenly standing in front of them. "What the hell?" John breathed as he stared at the angel standing in the living room again, "Does he do that often? How does he - ? Holy shit."
Castiel stared at John for a moment, head tilted slightly as he studied the freaked-out man. His blue gaze shifted to Dean as he said suddenly, "I was mistaken when I told you that I was trying to get you out, Dean. I was confused: I was not trying to get you out, I was trying to get you in."
"What?" Sam's brows furrowed as he stared at the man, trying to puzzle out his statement.
The angel was silent for a moment, head tilted again as he sorted his thoughts. Finally he replied,
"I am not from this world of yours. I am from .. an alternate dimension, if you will. Another realm. The Winchesters from my world, my Dean and Sam, fought to keep that world safe. They sacrificed everything: family, friends, themselves. Even when that world fell apart around them, they continued fighting for it."
"Sam – my realm's Sam – asked me, in his last moments, to take his brother some place safe. Knowing Dean as I do, I knew he would not leave his brother behind. I grasped them both tight and, in their last moments of that life, I used every bit of power within me to take them from a world that they gave everything to save but fell around them anyway."
Castiel's eyes flicked between the brothers and a slight smile touched his lips. "I brought them here and, in doing so, rebooted their lives, if you will. Is that the correct word? Rebooted?"
He raised a brow and shrugged a shoulder, dismissing his own question. "Bringing them into this dimension gave them new beginnings, in every essence of the words. You retained bits of your other lives, which is why Dean has the knowledge he does of the supernatural, and why you have the dreams you have about that other life. It is why you are connected as you are, even after a decade apart."
"Bringing you here drained me." His brows furrowed, "And my mental facilities as well, it seems. It took a long time for me to regain any of my powers, and to recall that I was not trying to get you out of the hospital, I was trying to get you into this world. It is something like reincarnation, only into your own selves, if a different version, in a different world."
Regret touched Castiel's features as his eyes focused on Dean, "I believe the dimension jumping, and the effect of shoving an experienced, full mind in a new body, directly resulted in what your doctors term schizophrenia. For that, I am sorry, Dean."
"That's – that's why I remember a life with Sam that I haven't had," Dean's voice was almost a whisper as he stared at the angel, "Not here, at least. It's – were we –" His eyes flicked to John briefly, before moving to Sam, "I loved him there, too."
"Yes," Castiel's smile was soft as he contemplated the brothers, "You loved him there, too. You sought him immediately when I pulled you from hell. You fought demons and angels alike for Sam. You faced Death himself for him. Your love for one another saved you both, as well as countless lives, many times throughout the years."
"You really an angel?" Bobby's abrupt question drew a slight smile from the man in question, and Castiel nodded yes.
The angel's intense blue gaze shifted to John suddenly, "Dean and Sam gave their lives for one another many times, their love was so deep. And found their way back to each other, every time. If heaven and hell could not keep them apart, what man believes he could?"
John stared at the angel, brow furrowed, before glancing at his sons. He shook his head, rubbing a hand through his hair, and breathed another soft curse.
Castiel's gaze returned to Dean as he finished, that soft smile gracing his features again, "You and Sam are soulmates, in this life and all others, Dean."
Sam stepped close to his brother and slipped his arms around him. He whispered his brother's name as Dean pressed his face against his neck, planting a soft kiss against his skin.
"Can you take us back there?"
Sam ignored his father's exclamation of "Sam!" at his question, his eyes locked on Cas. The angel studied him for a moment before shaking his head.
"I cannot. I am sorry. I can take you to another realm, or even another point in time in this one, but that one is closed to us now."
"This is crazy!" John started to stand, "Take you to another --? Are you out of your mind?" His eyes shifted to Bobby as the older man caught hold of his arm and pulled him back down on the couch.
"Be quiet, John," Bobby told his brother, features pensive.
"My sons are talking to an angel," John ran a hand through his hair again, tugging at it in agitation, "They're talking about going away. I'm supposed to be okay with that?" His eyes shifted to Sam as the teen told him,
"We're supposed to be together, dad. I know you still don't understand, but Dean and I need each other." He turned his hazel gaze to Dean as he raised a hand to brush it against his brother's face, "Can't you see what us being apart has done to him? He spent his whole life in a hospital because no one believed him, and –" Sam shook his head, "I love you, dad, but Dean is everything to me. I need him, and he needs me. We're not whole if we're not together."
He brushed his fingers through the older teen's hair as Dean hid his face against his neck and murmured, "Love you, Sammy."
"Love you, too, Dean."
"Sam – "
Sam closed his eyes as he heard the pain in his father's voice. "I'm sorry, dad," he told the man, meeting his gaze, "I love you, but I need Dean. If you can't accept that, then I'll go some place where I can be with him."
All eyes turned to Bobby as the man spoke suddenly,
"You can stay with me. Both of you."
He glanced at John, saw the anger and desperation and fear on the other's face,
"They'll still be here, John. If we try and stop them, that angel is going to take them some place where we won't have them anymore. You don't want that any more than I do. They can stay with me. They can be together and we'll still have them."
John rubbed a hand over his face as he muttered, "I need time to process all of this. I need time to think."
"I'm not going home 'til next weekend," Bobby clasped his brother's shoulder, offering what support he could, "You have 'til then to come to terms."
Sam and Dean looked to Castiel as the angel stepped close to them. He laid a hand on each of their shoulders and told them, "I must go. Meg is stealing the nurse's uniform again. I believe she needs a change of scenery. If you need me, to leave here or for any other reason, call for me. I will hear you, and I will come."
"Thanks, Cas," Sam shot the angel a smile, which was returned. Dean stepped forward and pulled Castiel into an embrace, which was also returned. The angel stepped back when Dean released him: a moment later, he was gone.
John tried.
He tried to make amends with Dean, for the years he had spent refusing to even consider the boy was speaking truth. He apologized and tried to explain how difficult it was for someone without Dean's innate knowledge to believe supernatural beings existed. His son had only stared at him, arms wrapped around himself and nails digging into his arms until Sam instructed him softly to stop.
He tried to come to terms with his own guilt: he hadn't known that supernatural beings were real. His oldest son was still schizophrenic, he had still had those violent spells. He could have handled it all better, he knew: he needed to handle everything better in the future.
He made appointments of his own with a therapist Charlie recommended (though he had no intention of telling said therapist what he had witnessed in his living room the night Murphy had shown up, or anything about the supernatural).
Mostly, he tried to come to terms with the fact that his sons were determined to be together, one way or another. When he had walked in on them kissing two days after the discovery that Murphy had been a demon, he had automatically demanded them to separate. Sam had looked him straight in the eyes and told him, "No. I won't be without him anymore." It was extremely difficult to hold his tongue about it, though the wariness and fear on Dean's face had helped.
Three days before Bobby's planned departure back to South Dakota, John was sitting at the kitchen table with him. He was staring at his beer can more than drinking from it, lost in his thoughts. He raised his eyes to Bobby as his brother spoke,
"I know it's hard, John, but you've got to decide: can you handle the boys being together, or are they coming with me?"
"I'm trying, Bobby," he told the other man as he ran a hand over his face, "It's not easy. How do you just accept that your sons have that kind of relationship with each other?" He sighed and asked, a rueful smile on his mouth, "Are we sure this isn't all a bad dream?"
"'fraid not," Bobby chuckled, "Seems like it should be but, from what I can reason, it's all real."
"I just – I don't know what to do. I don't want to lose them. Either of them. I don't know how I can watch them have that kind of relationship, though."
"Maybe you all just need a little time," the other man suggested softly, "It's been a very trying couple of months. Maybe you and the boys just need time to process and to wind down. What if they come back with me, 'til after Christmas break? Then we can reevaluate and go from there."
"Sam would have to be pulled out of school," John reminded.
"So he can take a week off and home-school in South Dakota, least 'til he's settled in."
John was silent for several minutes, toying with the beer can in front of him as he thought about it. "What kind of choice is this?" he asked finally, a humorless laugh escaping him, "I accept that my sons are romantically involved with each other, or I let them leave so they can have that kind of relationship, or I lose them? Shit." He lifted the can to finish off the barely cold beer; when it was gone, he crushed the aluminum can in his hand and sat it on the table. "They're going to be together, no matter how I feel about it."
"They are," Bobby agreed, "You heard that angel, John. These boys have something between them that, obviously, goes beyond blood and brotherhood. We can't change that and it looks like we can't stop it, either. Now we just have to decide how we're going to react to it."
John was silent again for a while, thinking. Bobby let him think in peace, drinking his own beer and doing some thinking of his own.
"I kept that boy locked in a hospital for twelve years," John finally said, fist clenched where it rested on the tabletop, "Twelve years. I know his issues went beyond his belief in .. in supernatural beings. I know he has more issues than that, still, with the schizophrenia and the violent spells." The man swallowed hard and shook his head, "But twelve years. I left him in there, at the hands of that – that thing.."
"You didn't know, John," Bobby tried to sooth, placing a hand on his brother's arm.
"I know," the man agreed, "I know. But – hell. After all that, he deserves to be happy. Dean deserves some happiness, and Sam –" He paused, rubbed a hand over his mouth, "-Sam makes him happy. I'm not going to lose my sons. I lost one for most of his life and I just got him back. I'm not going to lose them."
He sighed and sat back in his chair. "We'll try it. If – if it's too much and I can't deal with it, they can stay with you for a while."
"Okay," Bobby agreed with a nod, squeezing lightly his brother's arm, "It's a plan."
John nodded; a moment later, he shot his older brother an uncertain look. "Is – what would you do, Bobby?"
"Can't make this decision for you."
"I know," John assured, "I just – " He trailed off, a helpless look on his face. His eyes met his brother's as Bobby assured softly,
"I would do exactly what you're doing, John. I would give it a shot and see how it goes. If you think I'm going to judge you for your decision, I'm not."
John shot him a weak smile and nodded, relief touching his face. He chuckled softly as Bobby lightly cuffed him upside the head and reprimanded gently,
"Ya idjit."
Three days later, Sam and Dean were saying their goodbyes to their uncle. Their father was about to take the man to the airport, to catch his flight home.
"You boys take care," Bobby instructed them as he hugged each of them tightly, "Stay out of trouble, and try not to give your dad a heart-attack, alright? Remember, keep the displays of affection to the bare minimum around him for the time being, or he's liable to stroke out." The man smirked, causing Sam to huff a laugh, and finished, "If you need me, give me a call. I'll be back soon as I can catch a flight, or you can come out and see me. Got it?"
"Got it," Sam promised, hugging the man one last time. He wrinkled his nose as Bobby ruffled his hair; the man chuckled and climbed into the Impala's passenger seat.
Sam's eyes shifted to his father as John joined them beside the car. "I'll be back this evening," the man informed them, "There's money in the kitchen cabinet if you need it. Dean, make sure you take your meds. If you two –" John paused, color touching his cheeks suddenly, as he recalled coming home earlier than expected from a work meeting the previous night, and walking in on the boys making out in the kitchen, "Just – Stay out of my damn kitchen, will you?"
"Sorry," Sam shot him a sheepish grin, his own cheeks flushing slightly, "Again."
John rolled his eyes and shot them a smile, before moving around to the driver side.
Sam watched as the car pulled out of the drive a moment later, carrying his father and uncle toward the airport. His gaze shifted to Dean, whom was watching him, and a smile touched his mouth.
"C'mon," he grabbed his brother's hand and tugged him toward the house, "We have the house to ourselves for a while, for really real this time. Got some catching up to do."
Dean's raised brow and teasing comment of "Are you flirting with me, Sammy?" drew a laugh from him.
"Yes," he promised with a grin as he pulled his brother - his everything - into the house, "I am. Let's go."
[fin.]