Bring It On Home- A Destiel AU [COMPLETED]

Chapter 4

The next day, Dean found a letter in his mailbox.

Well, it wasn't a letter, really. It was actually just a piece of printer paper with a drawing in ballpoint pen. It featured a figure that Dean decided was either a badly-drawn horse or a dog with large buck teeth, and a speech bubble coming out of his mouth that read, "neighbor" in slanted handwriting. Underneath the picture, in the same handwriting: "It's a pun."

In spite of himself, Dean chuckled. Then he reminded himself he was pissed and he crumpled up the picture. Then he changed his mind and flattened it out and put it in his desk drawer.

It was only half Castiel's fault. He couldn't have known, but then did he have to go around, butting into Dean's business? This was why you didn't too close. Jeff and Laura never asked about his mother, didn't know he had a sibling, could tell you all about Dean's portfolio and how he liked his burgers but had absolutely no clue that his childhood had been the worst period of his life.

So yeah, it was a little on Cas.

Cas? Where did that come from? Castiel.

Two days later when Dean came home from work, there was something waiting for him on the doorstep. A round, smooth rock that fit neatly in his hand, and a scrap of paper that said, "Meditation stone."

Dean rolled the stone in his hand, and it nestled in his palm. It wasn't polished, just worn smooth by the tumbling currents of some river or ocean. It was heavy, a solid weight, and cool to the touch. He closed his hand around it and closed his eyes.

He felt very, very calm.

"Huh," Dean murmured. He pocketed the stone and stepped inside, fighting the urge to glance around and see if Castiel was watching.

Finally, three days after that, Dean woke up from where he had fallen asleep in front of the TV. Someone was knocking at the front door. He blearily checked the time - just after 12:00 am. He considered ignoring it.

They knocked again.

"Coming!" Dean groaned.

When he opened the door, Castiel was standing there. Out of breath, eyes bloodshot, hair wildly mussed, wearing nothing but a parka, snow boots, and pair of jean shorts.

"... Castiel?" Dean said. "It's midnight."

Castiel swallowed. "When I was twenty, my sister committed suicide," he blurted out. "At least, that's what the police say. I personally consider it homicide."

Dean blinked.

Castiel stuffed his hands into his parka and looked down. "I hope this makes us even."

Dean wished Castiel would start making sense. "Even?"

"Reciprocity, eye for an eye..." He was mumbling into his parka now, so low Dean almost couldn't hear him. "I didn't mean to find out what I did about your mother, so now I'm letting you found out about me."

Dean couldn't help but stare at Castiel incredulously. "So you think we're square now?" he asked. "Tell me, Cas old buddy, what exactly did you 'find out' about my mother?"

Castiel looked up, and his eyes - they normally turned down at the corners, he always looked a little wistful, but right now he looked really fucking sad. "She died," he said quietly. "You were there. You were very young, but old enough to remember. You still remember. Her face is in your mind, a composite of all the family photographs you've seen but in your memories - you remember her hands. Her soft touch. The way she smelled. Her voice, and her laugh. And even now, as a grown man, you often think of her in the quiet moments and wonder what she would think of you. You still miss her." Castiel looked straight into Dean's eyes. "You will always miss her."

Dean felt something warm on his cheek and realized that he was crying. He hastily wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "Fuck you," he said, his voice cracking.

"Dean..." Castiel reached out a hand for his shoulder.

Dean backed away.

Castiel swallowed heavily. "Can I come inside? I'm cold."

That's when Dean realized that they were still standing on the porch. "No. Go home."

But like a stray dog, Castiel just cowered there with big eyes and his tail between his legs. "Can I use your bathroom?"

"What's wrong with your bathroom?" Dean demanded.

Castiel glanced back at his house. "It's far."

Dean dragged a hand down his face. "It's midnight! Go back to your own house!"

"I like your hair," Castiel said. "And you have a great ass. Can I please come inside?"

"Flattery?" Dean gave his most disbelieving look. "That's really where you're going with this? You just made me fucking cry and you're trying to compliment your way into my house?"

Castiel just stared at him.

Dean waited.

Castiel tilted his head. "You look like you work out."

"Jesus Christ FINE, you can come in, just be fucking quick about it!"