Against All Odds -Destiel

Chapter 7

"You may say 'I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one..."

-John Lennon 'Imagine'

Somewhere, across the country in a roadside bar, a man swallowed down the last of his whiskey and stepped up to the microphone. He wore a familiar leather jacket and over his shoulder an old beat up acoustic guitar. He cleared his throat, sitting on the stool behind the mic, and strummed the six strings, making sure they were all in tune. The pick between his fingers moved across the strings like the flow of a gentle river. Music filled the near empty bar. The man's eyes were closed as he felt the music pour out of him. His lips moved, but the voice was inaudible. And his face was blurred and it was difficult to tell exactly what he looked like. There seemed to be a dark blob surrounding the top of his head. A hat, maybe. No, his hair. Did he have a beard? No. Yes! It was too hard to tell. Glass broke somewhere in the bar, disturbing the easy acoustic mood that overwhelmed the room. Distorted faces turned to see two men fighting. The gentle music ceased and the man was no longer there.

The whole world shook and stopped. Then shook again. "Cas, wake up." A voice whispered.

Castiel groaned, tightening himself into a ball before rolling over on his mattress to see Dean leaning over him, smiling. "Dean? What-"

Dean threw a shirt over Cas's face. "Get your shirt on. You're blinding me."

Cas's voice came raspy still from sleep. "It's because I'm so attractive."

Dean chuckled. "Of course, babe." He kissed the top of his head.

"What are we doing?" Cas asked.

"Just come with me." Dean smirked. "And grab your guitar."

Cas laughed excitedly and followed Dean out the window with the guitar into the beautiful clear nighttime.

As they walked up the Winchester's driveway, Dean pulled out a set of keys which jingled as he twirled them around his index finger to grab the right one. Cas stood on the passenger side of the Impala, looking over the hood at Dean who said, "Get in. Don't worry, my parents won't even notice a thing."

They both got into the car, their doors closing simultaneously. "So what's up with your parents? And where the hell are we going?" Cas asked, curious.

Dean turned the key in the ignition and smiled wildly when the engine rumbled to life for him. "They're both asleep and drunk off their asses. After visiting Martin, Dad was so distressed that he deemed it okay to have a few drinks at home. He and Mom got super wasted. They won't even know we're gone. As for where we are going, well, you'll see." He winked.

Cas just chuckled softly and nodded. The backseat door opened behind Cas, startling him. A boy climbed in with a bookbag. "Cas," Dean said, "this is my brother, Sam."

Cas turned around and waved awkwardly. "Hello."

Sam smiled. "Hey, Cas."

Castiel turned back to Dean. "You talk about me?" He asked, flattered.

Dean shrugged.

"And don't worry," Sam added, "Dean mentioned how much he's in love with you." He teased.

Dean blushed. Cas laughed a little and squeezed Dean's hand. "Whatever, let's just go." Dean spattered, embarrassed as he put the car in reverse and they headed out for a late night adventure.

Cas observed as Dean drove, determined youthful eyes fixed on the open road, one hand on top of the wheel and the other hanging lazily out the open window against the warm metal. All of the windows in the car were down. Sam sat on his knees, arms folded on the door, letting the hot Kansas wind sting his eyes and blow through his brown hair. The joy in Dean's expression and the freedom Cas felt at this moment, the dark open road before them, empty and theirs alone, in the star speckled night, driving away from the dreary town of Lawrence and leaving their tattered lonely lives behind- It overwhelmed Cas.