Chapter Text
Dean Winchester was standing on the balcony of his loft, looking out over the Pacific Ocean.
Soft music from his favorite radio station was wafting through the open doors. It was early evening, the sun already on its way down for yet another beautiful sunset. Dean’s guitar lay forgotten on the sofa he kept out there, the sheets of half-finished music strewn all over the table, saved from the soft breeze by the whiskey tumbler and the decanter; the balcony had always been the best place for him to create new songs.
Not tonight, it seemed. Not anymore.
He checked his phone again. The screen was black, long forgotten and in sleep mode. He pressed the button to wake it up, swiped the screen lock, and entered his code. The text from Charlie was still open.
The concert is confirmed, Monterey is now on your tour schedule. No backing out, Winchester!
Dean read it over and over again until the screen went black once more. Monterey was part of his tour now.
It was a last minute call: One of the top acts from this year's Monterey Music Festival had dropped out at the last minute and the event organizer had called around for help. Charlie, his crazy friend and manager, had jumped at the opportunity. The date was set only a week before his actual tour started in San Francisco, so it was perfect. At least in her eyes.
Benny, that sonofabitch, had backed her up, as had Ash and lastly the girls. They all knew Dean’s background story, knew what it meant to him, and had pushed for it anyway. In the end, Charlie had contacted the event organizer.
An hour ago, she had sent him the text with the confirmation.
The current song faded out and the radio announcer’s voice drifted through the early evening air. “Just this moment, some great news has reached us, folks. Guess who’ll fill in for the Sunday concert of this year’s Monterey Music Festival.” The announcer’s voice sounded excited and Dean contemplated switching off the live stream. He’d always loved the Monterey radio station he’d once worked for while in college and live streaming it was his way to stay in contact. Right now, though, he felt like it was a stupid idea.
The announcer went on: “Let’s see if you can guess when I play this …”
The first few chords of “On Different Paths” played, the tell-tale soft melody along with his sad voice chanting the haunting intro of “Dah dum dum dum”. Dean closed his eyes, trying to keep his emotions in check.
“Oh yes, you guessed it. Dean Winchester, I repeat: Dean freaking Winchester and his band Purgatory will be the final top act this year. You heard it folks. Monterey’s very own prodigal son is finally coming home. I mean, it’s only been ten years and L.A. is really far away … Okay, nope, all jokes aside. It’s great to hear that Dean Winchester has finally decided to come home to give a concert in his home town. Two more weeks everybody, two more weeks. Make sure to check for available tickets and …”
Dean tuned the voice out, gazing over the ocean. The view had always reminded him of the view they had from Castiel’s house.
Cas.
Ten years.
It had been ten years now, but that day was still just as clear in his mind as if it had been yesterday.
* Cas lifted one hand, putting it to the side of Dean’s face, pulling him down to press their foreheads together. “I can’t do this anymore,” Cas whispered. “I’ve changed ... we’ve both changed too much, Dean.” *
Dean closed his eyes again, willing the memories away. Ten years and it was still so painful.
“Now, let’s get in the right mood, shall we? I hereby declare this evening to be a Dean Winchester tribute, oh yeah. Let’s kick it off with the one song that made this handsome fellow famous. We all know the story behind it – or at least the story he claims this song is based on. This is for all of you as well as Dean Winchester’s first love. Who knows, maybe he’ll meet the lucky girl again …”
The cold feeling in his stomach only grew worse. His first love. They still thought it was a girl. Still never knew the truth about him.
“On Different Paths” started again and this time Dean reached for his whiskey. Nine years since he’d written this song, and it still managed to rip his heart out. What the hell had he been thinking putting their break-up into a song?
You want to walk, I'd rather spring
When you talk, I want to sing
You grow roots, I have to fly
* “You want different things, Dean. I can’t give you all that you want.” *
We denied the silence around us
Where has our love gone?
* “This isn’t love anymore. I can’t change it and I won’t let you change it. I’m sorry, Dean, but we don’t work.” *
I feel young and you feel old
We're gonna fall, we’ve got no hold
We have to move
I agree, you disapprove
We walk on different paths
* Cas grabbed Dean’s hand to put it on his heart and placed his own hand over Dean’s. “It’s not the same rhythm anymore,” Cas said. *
Looking at his hand, it was as if he could still feel Cas’ heartbeat under his fingertips.
My heart beats faster than yours
They no longer beat as one
We shine brighter alone
Might have to be this way
As the chorus repeated, Dean all but dropped the whiskey tumbler on the table while running inside, almost slapping his laptop shut. The chords played on for one, two, three more seconds, then went silent.
Closing his eyes and letting out a deep breath, Dean tried to compose himself.
How could Charlie do this to him?
He felt the first tear slip down his cheek and sucked in a shaky breath before getting up and wiping the tear away.
“Maybe it will do you good,” he could still hear Charlie’s cheery voice. “Maybe you’ll see each other again. Maybe reconnect. Think about all the things you’d like to tell him.”
Okay, so perhaps his crazy friend had that point right at least. There were so many things he wished he could tell Cas. And it wasn’t all just because he had been his first and only real love. Long before that, they had been friends. Best friends. Just like he had never been able to have another real relationship after Cas, he had never called anyone else his best friend. Charlie and Benny and even the rest of his band definitely qualified for that position and yes, in some ways they were his best friends … just not … well, not his Best Friends.
That had always been Cas and with the years apart, Dean had come to realize that not only did he miss Cas’ as his partner and lover, he also missed their companionship, their friendship, the way they used to be inseparable. They had been Best Friends long before they knew what love and friendship even was.
Sometimes he wondered if Cas still thought of him and if he would talk to Dean if they ran into each other. There was so much he wanted to tell Cas if … when he saw him again.
Dean’s head snapped up. A sudden inspiration struck him and he walked back out onto the balcony, his steps full of purpose. Snatching up the music sheets, he put the one he’d started earlier aside. He might come back to it later, but he wasn’t sure. His heart hadn’t really been in it so it might just end up in the trash. Putting a fresh, blank sheet on a large book he balanced on his knee, he started to put down the words flooding around his head.
This was how Dean Winchester worked. Usually, it was the words that came to him first, the melody followed. There had been exceptions, songs where the music had come before the lyrics and others where he’d composed both at the same time. But usually, this was the normal order of things.
Unsurprisingly, Dean lost himself in creating the new song. He missed the beautiful sunset, missed the moment the red fireball hit the horizon. It didn’t matter; no sunset ever rivaled the ones he had watched with Cas.
The lights on his balcony went on automatically when a certain level of darkness was reached, no movement needed. Charlie had made sure of that a long time ago, all too well aware of her friend’s bad habit of writing even in the dark, hurting his eyes without realizing it.
The first draft for the lyrics was finished not long after. Dean read over it again before finally picking up his guitar, starting on the music. He alternated between strumming the strings, scribbling down notes on the sheets, and adding the lyrics, bringing them into an order that pleased him.
It was close to sunrise when he was finally satisfied, only now realizing he had worked through the night. He wanted to call up his band right away to get started on the song, but he knew he needed sleep. Almost nine years in the business had taught him that he was of no use if he hadn’t had at least four hours of shut eye.
Before going to bed, he shot a text to Ash, letting him know he needed his help to finalize this new song, since it would have rap elements in it. After that, he pulled up the band’s group chat and left a message, letting everybody know that they would get to work on a new song this afternoon.
Putting the sheet music on his bedside table, he stripped down to his boxers and got under the covers. Just as he had closed his eyes, they snapped open again. Pulling the sheet music over, he picked up the pen he always kept by his bed and scribbled the title on top. Satisfied, he finally drifted off to sleep, his new song “When I See You Again” right next to him.