anonymity was never an option

114: dean

Dean was laying on the bed with his eyes closed taking in the soft smell of mountain fresh shampoo as Castiel burrowed his head into his shoulder.

The wet strands of hair tickled Dean's face, as Cas wrapped his arms around his torso, resting into his side as both of them relaxed into the comforts of Dean's bed. It was like this almost every night before they inevitably fell asleep.

It was something he'd grown so used to, that while Castiel was away he didn't know how else to put himself to sleep. Nothing brought him that same security, that same reassurance.

Sometimes he'd lay here and wonder what was going on behind those curious blue eyes beside him. What Castiel was thinking... or not thinking. What he wanted to say... or do. What his dreams were... or what his greatest fears were.

Ultimately, Dean just kept wondering. He had never asked the questions that flooded through his head every time he watched Castiel figure out a problem or think deeply about the future. He just sat there and watched him, thinking about the same things.

Sometimes Dean thought about the future. His future here, in this town. Whether he wanted to leave or whether he wanted to stay. He thought about his career. What he wanted to do once he graduated and had a life to live. He thought about Cas. What the future could hold for them, how long it was going to last, and how it was going to end... if it ever did. But mostly, he thought about his family. He thought about Sammy and how proud he was of how far he'd made it. He thought about his father and how he so desperately never wanted to see him again. And most importantly, he thought about his mom, and the future he'd never be able to have with her.

She had been on his mind a lot lately.

Watching Castiel lose Michael, reminded him a lot of losing his mother. He identified with the pain, and the anger, and even the sheer frustration that followed Cas when he didn't know what to do. It was like that for a while after his mom died. Dean was alone and anxious, no one was there for him, and he was the only one there to take care of Sam. Being trusted to raise a child, as a child, was one of the most tolling, yet rewarding, things Dean had ever faced. He may have lost the connection he had with his mother, but what he gained from his brother was something new and even more valuable. He found peace in giving his brother the life he deserved. The life Dean was never able to have.

There was a solidarity in knowing something good came out of something so horrible. But sometimes, Dean just wanted his life back. His old life, with his caring mother, and his sober father, in a nice little town with a cute little ranch, where nothing imaginable could touch the image of a perfect family. Nothing could hurt him. Nothing could hurt Sam. Nothing was wrong.

The closest thing he got was a one bedroom apartment in the middle of a college town with a job on the weekends and a curious boy in a trench coat to keep him company.

But wasn't that good enough?

Dean didn't really need anything else. He could be content with the life he was given.

He had to be.

It was all he had... it was all he needed. It was a peaceful life away from the sleepy little town that burned his mother and the bickering old man that blamed him.

There was nothing Dean could do about the past. It was gone, it was done. There was no way to get his mother back, or to fix the pain she left behind.

There was only the future.

All Dean needed was the old drunk mechanic next door, the boy he raised, and the half asleep mess that was laying in his arms staring at the pattern of his flannel.

The more Dean thought about it, the more he realized how much he had taken for granted. He had everyone he needed right here.

Maybe the future didn't look so bad after all.