His Fallen Grace

Chapter Eight

"This is Dean Winchester. Leave your name, number, and nightmare at the tone."

Beep!

"Hey uh, Dean. This is Sam. For the uh, seventh time. Please just... Answer your phone or... Call me back when you get this. Bye."

He pressed end, staring at his brother's contact for a minute before setting it face down on the table and picking up his beer. Sam didn't know where Cas went after that. Probably sulking somewhere, and he couldn't blame him. Dean was hard on him-but he couldn't blame Dean either. Cas had all the reason to be upset, but Dean, even though he shouldn't have flipped out on him, was in a way, right. Feeling sorry for yourself wasn't going to erase the past. Sam and Dean, they knew that better than anyone. Whether it was with Jess, Dad, or breaking the first and last of the 66 seals, they knew sitting around and fretting about it wouldn't change what'd happen.

Sure, that wasn't the first time Dean had snapped like that at Cas, but Sam just didn't get why he was so hard on him. They all made mistakes. Was it that he felt Cas didn't trust him? Or, that Cas didn't listen to him? Sam got Dean's side. Cas didn't listen. But Sam could also get Cas's side. He could relate. Cas thought he was doing the right thing. He thought he was helping. He had good intentions. But like Sam, Cas got taken advantage of. Cas's Metatron was Sam's Ruby. They were blind. They were being told they were doing the world good, that they were heroes, that they were doing the right thing.

That's the part Dean wouldn't get. Dean had never had someone tell him he was doing something right, something good, something that would save the world. Dean would never get how crushing it was to find out that that entire time, you were being deceived and used. Dean had made mistakes before just like the rest of them, but he'd never know what it was like to break the last seal that stood between Lucifer and the rest of humanity, or send man eating Leviathans roaming earth, or casting all of God's angels from Heaven.

That's something Dean would never understand.

Crickets chirped as Dean pulled the tab on a cheap, crappy beer he'd bought at the mini-market in a six pack, sitting on the hood of the Impala and gazing up at the stars. He needed to get away. Get away from Cas, get away from Sam, himself even, if that was possible. Cas and Sam, they just didn't get it. They didn't get what it was like having to glue together the pieces when someone shattered. He'd been gluing Sam back together since they were kids.

Sammy lost his teddy? You went and got up enough allowance to buy him a new one. Sammy cried? You wiped away the tears and told him you'd protect him. Sammy started popping questions? You kept your mouth shut and told him he didn't want to know the truth. Sammy was getting picked on? You went and kicked their asses.

Cas set the Leviathans free? Cas makes you leave him behind in Purgatory so the Leviathans can rip him to shreds? Cas makes the sky rain angels, all because he wouldn't listen to you? He expects you to patch him up and fix everything for him.

But what about Dean? While he's picking up the pieces of his brother and his friend and gluing them back in place, he's the one shattering. Sammy throws himself in the pit with Lucifer and Michael, Cas dies because the souls in Purgatory were too much for him to handle, Sammy takes on the trials, Cas makes Dean leave him behind, Sammy's willing to die and leave him behind to close the gates of Hell, and Cas comes back tattered and broken after setting the angels loose on earth, and Dean is left to pick up after them.

To grieve when they die. They don't get that the hardest part of it all is having to pick up your own pieces and glue them back together yourself. To deal with the silence of an empty room because your brother's dead. To take a glance at a tattered, blood stained trench coat in the back seat and feel that hole in your chest ache, remembering that clueless angel with the messy hair and his backwards blue tie.

Sure. Maybe for a few months while you're stuck in Hell or trapped in with Leviathans your brother looks at your car and remembers how annoying you were with your six tapes and your singing along as a slight smile tugs at his lips, even though he feels that dull ache in his heart. Or your angel friend starts wondering if you made it home safe as he spends day and night on the run in Purgatory. Yeah. That hurt. They suffered. They all had to pick up pieces and put themselves back together. But it's harder to put yourself back together when others are breaking, and you are too.