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February 7th, 2019 – Lebanon, Kansas,
"Michael, outta my head, Michael, outta my head," I chanted to myself, my knuckles tightening on the pearl. My eyes were shut when I felt the rush of air and the sounds of the electricity crackling.
The bunker fell in darkness, illuminated by the red emergency lights.
The grid shutting down was never, ever a good sign.
I could feel the presence of something, hostile and alert before I saw anything.
A shadow moved towards Sam, who grunted loudly, first hit in the chest, then a buttstock to the face. He fell from the impact, his head narrowly missing one of the pillars.
I took my best shot and hit the guy with what should have been a solid right hook, but it didn't quite work,
Instead, I got punched in the face with a nasty left hook before being kicked - crashing to the ground.
Trying to get up, I heard the metallic click of a shotgun being cocked. Then in a low familiar voice,
"don't you move"
The man in the shadows was about my height. I couldn't take my eyes off his figure.
Sam took a sharp breath. He gasped. He recognized the voice too. Impossible. It couldn't be, and then I realized that was really his voice.
The moment the light came back up, I asked
"Dad?"
He was there, in the flesh, in his black jacket, bearded, and sharp-eyed - standing in the bunker.
"Dean, Sam, What in the hell?! Sammy? Aren't you not supposed to be in Palo Alto?"
Sam repeated, puzzled. "Palo Alto?"
"What happened to you?" asked Dad. Then, suddenly, I realized that Dad probably saw a broad man looking vaguely like Sammy, not like a nineteen-year-old twink that went to Stanford.
"What year is it?" I asked carefully
"It's 2003," answered Dad.
"It's 2019." Sam quipped
"No, how?"
"We...I think… we summoned you." Sam hesitated.
Dad demanded, "You boys better tell me what the hell is going on right now."
"We are going to need a stiff drink," I said.
Sam gave me a look. "Let's get some whiskey in the kitchen," he muttered.
We barely passed the corner; out of sight from Dad, Sam demanded that "how did this happen?"
"I-I I don't know.”
"You said that the pearl gives you what your heart desires, right?”
"So my heart desired," no my heart didn't fucking desire Dad, well not this version of him,
I had to admit to myself that I always wished we grew up all American, with apple pie and a white picket fence, no monsters! With the Dad that Mom remembered so fondly and loved, not the one we grew up with.
"A normal family Sam, I wanted this since I was four years old,
But not like this...
You know, like before mom died, before yellow eyes, no hunting, no need for Cas' mission."
"Dean"
"Sam, you get it, right? If we had the family together, Dad would never have changed, and Cas would not have to ..." I couldn't finish the sentence, but I did not need to explain either. Sam knew he understood.
Sam sighed deeply. "I am so sorry."
"I know, ok, Sam, let's just talk to him and figure the next step when Mom is back. "
Back in the map room, I could not believe that Dad was there in the flesh, sitting at the table, looking the same as he did in 2003, when he was 47, suddenly I realized he was almost my age now...
For the next hour, we sat with Dad, trying to make sense of our lives since his death. How do you explain a lifetime? Sam and I did our best going from Lilith to Jack, from hell to purgatory, leaving out the salt and burns and some weirder kinds of stuff.
Finally, Dad asked, whisky in hand and finger raised, "So you saved the world?
"More than once," I said, cringing even as I answered with a mix of pride and embarrassment. I was there, 40 years old, and still trying to impress this asshole. I knew it was wrong; it felt it, but I couldn't help myself.
"And you've done this time travel thing before?" Dad asked, leaning towards us, patient, interested.
"Few times," San chimed in; I could feel that he wanted to connect with Dad. He was trying to make him proud in some way.
So I went on with, feeling both dirty and delighted, seeing Dad nodding softly.
"Actually, our grandfather, your Dad, he's the one that helped us find this place. I think he will be real happy to know you're finally here."
Dad had a slight, sad smirk, "right, a Man of Letters."
Sam continued, "Yeah, we are legacies because of you."
Dad chuckled and sighed softly. He put his hand on his mouth in a familiar gesture that I recognized in myself.
Dad mumbled, "I just wished I had been there to see it."
I had this stupid instinct of wanting to reassure him, "Dad, none of this would have happened without you."
"It's good, it's fine, and it's that's all true God, the devil, you boys smacked in the middle. Now you live in a secret bunker with an angel and Lucifer's kid..." Dad said, perplexed.
"Yeah, about the angel, Dad, …"started Sam, his tone changing.
At this point, I just realized we did not mention Cas' name, not once. We were there bragging about his accomplishments, yet we kept his name out of it. In the retelling of our entire adult lives, our hunts, our fights, battles, and apocalypses, putting fifteen damned years on the table, we left him out... I realized ashamed.
We called him the angel (glancing over his role). So quickly, so naturally, we slipped back into our childhood habits of keeping everything Cas related silent in the Dad's presence. We had been too afraid of betraying him or revealing our transgressions of his damned rules. In some way, we were protecting our fleeting happiness. I feel like such a fucking coward, and it was making me nauseous.
"Dean," Cas' voice echoed in the bunker from the top of the stairs as he made his way down.
Dad looked up, a bit surprised, mainly amused. "Good to see that something stayed the same, so you kept the monster bait?" the tone was so mattered of fact like if he commented on my, his old leather jacket, just some object to be passed down, inherited, or disregarded.
A deafening silence, I could not take my eyes from Cas,
He had flinched at the sight of Dad. I can see his knees starting to buckle under his weight, his hands moving to his back. My breath caught in my throat.
Cas' face echoes all those horrible nights, where I find him on his knees next to our bed, our past taut on his shoulders, his cold body frozen in trauma and pain.
For an instant, I think he will sink to his knees, repeating, here at the bottom of the metal stairs, in our home, the abhorrent ritual performed in crappy motels, reliving our past. His chin is dropping slowly to his chest, his body following. Then suddenly, there is tremor, and he stops, steadies himself, his eyes raising first, finding me, with his intense look.
There is no longer fear but quiet anger.
I am frozen, fucking useless. This cannot be fucking happening.
Sam spoke first. His voice was harsh, commanding,
"Cas is family; He has always been." The kid is still the better person, doing the right thing while I am still petrified, feeling 17 again, the biggest fuck-up ever, incapable of making the right call; I still don't deserve Cas, the thought hit me again like a ton of brick,
Dad shrugged, still in a good mood, clearly indulging Sam's goody-two-shoes attitude. His voice is teasing, "I mean, I am not going to blame you for keeping Castiel as a family pet, as long as he still knows this place."
"Dad" Sam's tone is a warning, but the old man did not know that. He did not know the man Sammy became.
Dad was attempting to keep the conversation going - as if nothing happened. He turned back toward us, ignoring Cas completely, maybe expecting him to kneel in a corner, eyes lowered, hands behind his back, waiting to be called, waiting to be used. But the charm was broken, the sixteen years of Dad's absence and longing erased at once, the ideal image is shattered, replaced by a flood of painful memories,
I could feel Sam become tense, the righteous anger he had as a little kid trying to protect Cas, the roaring anger he had as a teenager before moving with Bobby bubbling at the surface.
Through the silence, Cas moved forward slowly, with each step, his wings opening.
Soon the shadow of his full winged silhouette is reflecting on the walls of the map room. The electricity crackles and sparks seem to fly around him.
I hadn't seen Cas lose control of his powers since he dragged my sorry ass from hell more than a decade ago. Cas usually hid his powers without effort, all his strength and power invisible under his dorky trench coat.
"What the hell?" Dad turned his attention to Cas he grabbed his shotgun and emptied it into Cas's chest.
Dad looked stunned at Cas, who kept walking at an even pace and was now mere feet away from us, ignoring the bullets hole in his suit and trench coat.
"What kind of fucking monster are you, you son of a bitch?' Dad said in his Corporal Winchester voice.
"I am an angel of the Lord," Cas answered simply, his voice steady and low. A voice Dad never heard; there is no humility, no subservience, no fear.
It's the voice of Castiel, Commander of heavenly armies.
At once, all I felt is overwhelming pride for Cas at his courage, strength, and restraint.
"My mission was to protect Dean when you could not" then dripping with disdain; he added, as a second thought, "Sir,"
Cas stared at Dad as if he saw him for the first time, clocking his head on the side.
Dad's smirked and turned to me, laughing
"He is the fucking angel that saved the world, Castiel? That cocksucker?" chuckling, "That's too funny, Dean, we were bending a fucking angel! All that time?"
I wanted to throw up; God, I hate him, but I hate myself more; he was making me his accomplice again, including me in his fucked up worldview, in Cas' abuse. I could not look at Cas.
Sam gave me a dark disappointed look that Dad ignore as he wipes a tear at the corner of his eye, "So funny,"
"Dean, do you still fuck him?"
"We are together..." my voice was smaller than it should be, but it has a harsh edge. My fists are tights on my side, my whole body probably screams, don't fuck with me. How do you describe what Cas and I shared? He has been my everything, my lover for twenty years, and my best friend for my whole life. I knew it would sound ridiculous to Dad, and I could not bear the thought of it being touched or sullied by him. I would safeguard it the way I did not protect Cas in the past.
He was still giving me a disgusting lecherous grin and did not see Sam's right hook coming, followed by a left uppercut. The old man took a step back and fell on the hard floor, bleeding, clearly with a broken nose.
"Sam," Cas intervened softly, his hand on Sam's shoulder; the tone is almost sad, "He is your father."
My stupor dissolved slowly, I approached Cas, and I didn't know what to say. My words failed me.
So I took Cas' hand softly, reverently, brought his hand to my lips. "I am so sorry, Cas, we were trying to get rid of Michael in my head and...." my voice broke, and I couldn't say more.
He placed his hand on his mark on my shoulder, reassuring me, soothing me. Gently he cupped my jaw, running his fingers softly against my face.
"My righteous man, My good boy," I still don't know if the term slipped from our safe, happy sphere or if it was intentional, but it felt good, soothing. He was trying to reassure me, but we both knew that I was the only cause and reason for his suffering.
"Dean, are you ok?" He was worried for me. It was so unfair. He was the one protecting me, whereas I should be there for him.
I nodded, he kissed me gently... his chapped lips on mine, an echo to all the kisses we shared, grounding...
I was aware of Dad's eyes on me, judgmental and harsh, openly ashamed and disgusted with me for being weak and fragile.
I heard him, as he grumbled, "Fucking sissy." I ignored him; I didn't fucking care of what he thought. He was not worth it.
But Cas didn't miss a beat, let go of me, and made his way to Dad. He crouched to be at eye level.
"You will not disrespect your sons ever again,"
Cas' was stern and terrifying. John fucking Winchester was sitting there with a bloodied face and shitting himself, staring in Cas' eyes full of ice-cold anger.
"They are better men than you could ever imagine,
Braver, stronger, more caring.
Did I make myself clear?"
"Yes, yes.. Dad mumbled.
Cas' raised an eyebrow so slightly,
"Yes, sir"
"It's commander," I added because I am such a Smart-ass sometimes.
They both ignored me. Cas's hand moved forward to touch Dad's forehead. He paled further and flinched.
The blue/white light emanated from Cas, healing my father, who looked so scared and incredibly confused. I've never seen him this way.
Cas stood up and looked at me, "I'll be in our room," and he left. Dad was still stunned, on the floor, looking haunted as if his life flashed in front of his eyes.
Sam stood there, stoic, looking at Dad as if he was not done with him.
"Dad, you did some messed up things, to me to Dean,
I don't" he paused,
"When I think about you, and I think about you a lot."
He sighed
"I think about you and Cas and how you raped Cas every fucking day...
You fought for us, you loved us, but that's not enough. I will never forgive you."
"Sam," Mom was at the top of the stairs, "What are you talking about?"
"Mary," Dad chocked up, clearly not believing his ears
"Mary," he repeated, his voice breaking.