Chapter Text
Sipping on a hot coffee, Dean was chuckling at the story Sam was telling him, one involving a prank Dean had done to him in their teen years.
The one when Dean had apparently thought it funny to put Nair into Sam’s shampoo bottle.
“All my hair had fallen off. It was right before the school yearbook picture. Mom was furious.”
Giggling at the thought, Dean said, “I’d say I’m sorry but…that sounds pretty funny. A hundred percent douchy, but funny.”
“I wore a beanie for months after that,” said Sam, half-laughing himself.
“Is that why you let your hair grow and never cut it after?”
“Ha-ha.”
“I’m sorry though. I mean, I don’t remember doing it but…”
He let out a sigh, almost regretting his last comment. Not the apology, but the mention of his lack of memory. It turned the enjoyable conversation they were having into an awkward moment.
Thankfully, Sam didn’t seem too hung up on that. “It’s alright. Long time ago. Besides, I got my revenge.”
“Oh, yeah? How? Same treatment?”
Sam made an awkward face. “I crazy-glued your hand to a bottle of lotion while you were sleeping. And by bottle of lotion, I mean…bottle of lube.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. For some reason, that incident never reached our parents’ ears.”
“Can’t imagine why.”
And they both burst into laughter.
A timer went off on Sam’s phone.
“Showtime?” Dean asked.
In Sam’s rental, after they left the timeless-looking diner they had been occupying for the last hour or so, they headed to the Kansas City Airport. A twenty-minute drive.
“Sam? I got another question that I meant to ask. I thought about it late last night.”
Dean had a lot of questions these days. And for the first time in a really long time, he wasn’t afraid to ask.
And Sam was always happy to answer if he could.
“It’s one about the random stuff,” he clarified.
“Shoot.”
“Does Eggs in a Basket mean anything special?”
Sam glanced at him.
“I’m asking because I—I made them randomly one morning. I was planning on making French Toast and I ended up making that instead. Or with it. Like…I didn’t even know what it was called or why I did it. It was weird. So, I thought, maybe, it was one of those—I don’t know, does it mean anything?”
Keeping his eyes on the road, while still glimpsing at him from time to time, Sam said, “I don’t know if that’s what it is, but yeah, Eggs in a Basket means something. And it’s funny you said you made them with French Toast. Or instead of.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s what Granddad used to do. Granddad Henry? We used to visit him every Sunday morning growing up. And what he always made on Sunday morning was a pile of French Toast with one Eggs in a Basket for each of us.” And Sam turned to him. “That was your favourite with bacon.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Before he passed away, he lived with us for a couple of years—that was around middle school for you—and whenever he felt like you needed cheering up, he would make them for you. And it worked every time.”
Dean took a deep breath, letting the somewhat serene feeling spread through him. They both fell into deep thoughts. Feeling partly validated every time Sam would confirm that not everything was perhaps gone.
Some things, it seemed, had remained.
And Dean would never get over how comforting that was to him.
They arrived at their destination shortly, and Sam parked the car as close to the front entrance as he could.
“Got the keys?”
Dean retrieved them from his pocket and wiggled them before shoving them back in. “And got the address and everything.”
“All right. Then I should head back.” But as soon as he had said it, Sam checked the time on his phone, and added urgently, “I could stick around for another five—no, ten minutes, I think.”
Evidently, he had no desire to leave Dean on his own.
“I’ll be okay,” Dean told him, wanting to reassure him.
“You sure?”
Smiling, Dean said, meaning his words, “I’m sure.”
Sam drew another deep breath, after a quick glance around them. “All right. Text me when Cas gets here so I know he made it.”
“Will do.”
After untying his seat belt, Dean grabbed the door handle, readying himself to step outside the vehicle. But before doing so, he paused, and looked at his brother.
“Hey, Sam?”
“Yeah?”
They exchanged a meaningful look.
“Thank you. For…you know.”
Sam’s face softened.
“Any time, Dean. See you both tonight, okay?”
Dean gave him a firm nod. He climbed out of the car, and waved at him goodbye.
Because of Dean’s supposed fear of flying, deciding what was the best way for him to return to Lawrence had been tricky. It had been the subject of a long discussion between him and Castiel (and Sam, too).
Dean’s idea, from the get-go, had been that he would travel from New York to Kansas by train on his own.
Neither Castiel or Sam had opposed the idea, per se, but they hadn’t exactly been completely sold on it, either.
“How about I drive you back,” Sam had suggested. “I’ll fly to New York, like always, and you and I can drive back together. Or you and Cas take the train together?”
Options that Castiel had seemed to have been in agreement with Sam.
And Dean understood why. And he loved them both for it.
But Dean was adamant about doing the trip the way he saw it needed to be done.
On his own.
“I want to make something very clear,” Castiel had told him. “I’m not hesitating because I don’t think you can do this. I know you’re capable. It’s just…this is a very long ride. We’re talking about an over twenty-four-hour train ride. And it might demand a lot of you. It would be hard on anyone. On a physical and emotional level, I mean. I just don’t want you to put yourself through unnecessary hurdles. There’s been enough of that already for you.”
Dean had kissed his cheek.
“I’m not. I promise I’m not. I get why you think this is a bad idea. But I—I have to do this. For myself. See it as symbolic.”
So it was decided that Dean would leave New York City the same way he had (supposedly) arrived, via the Amtrak, all the way back to Kansas.
Now, Dean could have easily made it back to Lawrence by train, been picked up by Sam from the station, and Castiel would have met them at home later on. And that would have been it.
But Sam had another suggestion, and Dean had to admit that this one offered a slightly better wrap up to the whole thing.
So, instead of riding all the way to Lawrence, Dean got off the train a little earlier, in Kansas City. Where Castiel’s flight from L.A. was to land.
From there, Sam picked up Dean at the station, kept him company as long as he could until Castiel’s arrival, and brought him to the Kansas City International Airport.
And now, the only part left of his travel to complete, was to reunite with Castiel, and the two of them were to drive to Lawrence together.
In Dean’s car.
Which was patiently waiting in the airport parking lot, where Sam had left it for them that morning, after arriving from Lawrence (and Sam was to return home with a rental).
Was all this necessary?
Probably not. But everyone agreed that the idea of Dean returning to Lawrence, driving his car—and with Castiel by his side—was a pretty picture.
So, not far from the main entrance of Kansas City International Airport, Dean paced quietly, breathing the sweet and hopeful air of spring, as he waited for Castiel’s arrival.
He wasn’t in a hurry. He wasn’t scared.
But he was excited.
His eyes never leaving the doors, searching desperately for Castiel.
Dean had opted to meet at the main entrance instead of inside the packed airport.
While he had been doing miles better over the last few months, crowds had remained an issue.
Therapy had considerably helped him deal with his anxiety. No blackouts or one of his headache episodes had occurred since the New Year.
Nightmares still surfaced, but rarely so nowadays. And Castiel was always right next to him to comfort him.
No major memories from his life before had returned, either. No memory of his parents. Or from High School. Only small things had been noticeable, like lyrics to songs he couldn’t remember hearing before. Or things about cars.
Dean knew a lot more about cars than he ever thought. Which wasn’t surprising to Sam, since Dean had been a mechanic before going missing.
Dean had liked the idea, but he didn’t feel confident he would be able to pursue that employment these days.
Sam had quizzed him one night, just for fun, and while Dean hadn’t had much success with hypothetical questions, he had effortlessly been able to name every part of a car when shown a picture.
From differentiating the radiator from the alternator, and the oil refill cap to the engine coolant reservoir. He wasn’t entirely sure what purpose they all served, but he had named every single one of them. Just like that.
“Something tells me that if you ever start poking at cars again, a lot more will come back to you,” had said Castiel. “You might have to relearn a few things, but that’s okay. That’s normal, actually.”
“And what if I don’t like it? Working on cars, I mean. Or what if I’m not as good as before? What if I can’t be a mechanic anymore?”
“That wasn’t what I was getting at,” had said Castiel, caressing his shoulder, “but do you want to be a mechanic again?”
Dean had bit on his bottom lip. The subject of what he should do now with his life had been broached many times between him and Castiel. It had also come up in therapy.
And the truth was that Dean had no idea. It was as though he was given a clean slate. And as great as that concept sounded, it was hella intimidating to him.
Castiel, of course, had no objections to Dean pacing himself. Or Dean trying new things. Or Dean exploring aspects of his old life.
“There’s no wrong answer here,” Castiel had told him, as he always did. “As long as it’s what you want to do and how you want to do it, you have my full support. All I want is for you to be happy, Dean. That’s what I always want.”
Since he had no idea, and making an official decision felt too pressuring, Dean, encouraged by both his therapist, Mia Vallens, who was incredibly kind, and Castiel, had taken baby steps in that direction during winter.
The first thing he had wanted to do, of course, had been to volunteer at Bobby’s at least once a week. Castiel joined him every time he could. Balthazar and Anael did as well.
The second thing he had done was give his name to Jody to work at the diner. He didn’t mind what it was, now that he could actually fill in a work application, legally, and felt ready for it, he just wanted to try some things. And he knew it was time to get out of his sanctuary. It was only part-time, it wasn’t anything glamorous, but doing just that made him feel better.
And a few months later, nearing the end of April, Dean still had no idea what he wanted to do in the big scheme of things of his life.
But he knew he wanted to live it.
Still pacing, he glanced at his phone, a shiny new one, and was disappointed to see there were still no messages from Castiel yet.
He took a moment to look down the peaceful street. Nothing like the constant noise he had been accustomed to. The air smelled different as well.
Further down the entrance, past the taxis and pick up zone, his eyes then fell on a bus shelter. And slowly approaching it, a smile appeared on his face when he noticed the poster advertisement inside it.
Castiel’s new promo.
A shoulder portrait of him wearing a rich dark blue three-piece suit.
He looked amazing, as always.
Dean might have been biased, but this one took his breath away.
He glanced behind him, just to make sure Castiel hadn’t arrived yet, even if he knew he was a bit early, and stepped into the shelter.
He sat on the bench, and took a picture of the poster.
And then, he took another one, only this time, he made sure to include himself into the frame.
He accessed his DMs, and sent it to him.
Dean: I was gonna do a ‘who wore it best’ bit between us.
Dean: But I decided that you will always win that spot.
Dean: Because you simply look gorgeous no matter what.
Dean: And I’m very happy with that conclusion.
Dean: Can’t wait to see you.
Dean: Let me know when you’re here. I’m by the door, like we said.
Knowing Castiel wouldn’t be able to reply at that moment, he put his phone away, and admired the poster with a grin still on his face.
He felt his phone buzz in his pocket, excited for a second, thinking it was Castiel replying.
It wasn’t.
But it was Charlie.
In an effort to complete the transition of returning as Dean Winchester, of not staying hidden anymore, Dean had created a new account on Instagram, amongst other things. Charlie had been one of the first to friend him.
He had reached out to a lot of people. And a lot more had reached out to him than he could have ever had imagined. Especially after Rufus’ latest piece.
Charlie: I know you’re not super big on socials and all, but I think you really should take a look at this when you feel like it.
Charlie: Just like last time, the comments might just restore your faith in humanity a bit.
She sent him a link. Dean didn’t need to look at it. He knew exactly what it was.
His and Castiel’s interview with Rufus. Their newest one. The highly awaited follow-up story to their interview in December.
All those months ago, before Christmas, Dean had answered Rufus' every question. About his condition. About the shelters. About his story.
The only thing he had purposely left out had been Alastair’s name, because Dean firmly believed he didn’t deserve the thought, never mind the mention.
Dean had also left out Frank’s name, but for a very different reason. Like Dean, Frank had never liked the attention, so he decided that he should keep him in the clear, even if he doubted any harm would result from it. Just to humor him. He owed him that much.
Dean simply stated that someone kind had given him his phone in order to help him in the early period following his attack, and that he never had any issues with it afterwards.
That had been it. Those had been the only things he had omitted.
And like many other things he had done since making his circumstances known to Castiel, telling his story had been incredibly freeing to him.
To say that the interview had been a success, was putting it mildly. Providing the happy ending between the unnamed homeless man and the gorgeous model to the public, just in time for the holidays, no less, had been quite the feat.
The story spread twice as fast, and twice as far as the one before. A lot of offers had been made to them after that. And not just follow-up interviews.
Book deals to TV shows, too.
But neither Castiel nor Dean were interested. They had agreed to continue speaking with Rufus because they trusted him, and they were happy to leave it at that.
Charlie: You’ve done it again!
Charlie: The new article is trending!
Charlie: It was riveting, by the way.
Charlie: I’m so proud of you!
Charlie: Also, in a totally unrelated matter, I need to tell you that I literally printed out the whole thing and it’s on display at the shop for everyone to read.
Charlie: Right next to the other one.
Charlie: Because reasons.
Dean didn’t want to look at the interview now. Rufus had sent him and Castiel an early copy of it before publication.
He wasn’t really interested in checking out the comments without Castiel. Not that he particularly cared about that part. What had always been pleasing to him was to see new volunteers in the neighborhood, be it because of said article or not.
His phone buzzed, and he saw Castiel was texting him. Before checking his replies, he warmly thanked Charlie, and let her know how much he was grateful for her help. And he confirmed that he would let her know of his return in the city, but that he certainly wasn’t opposed to FaceTime conversations, as they had grown to do of late.
Castiel: Here. Just waiting for our little furry troublemaker.
Castiel: Also
Castiel: I have no idea what you’re on about.
Castiel: All I can see is the ruggedly handsome man in front of some ad.
Castiel: The one wearing a blue-blue shirt. [emojis]
Castiel: I like his eyes.
Castiel: And his smile.
Castiel: His lips are certainly not bad either.
Castiel: I’d like to talk to him very much. And then some.
Castiel: If it’s not too much trouble.
Castiel: [emojis]
Dean was beaming at his phone like an idiot and he didn’t care.
Dean: I’ll see what I can do.
Castiel: Much appreciated.
Castiel: [emojis]
Castiel: Shouldn’t be too long.
Dean shoved his phone in his pocket, and stood straight towards the main entrance. He fixed his bag on his shoulder a few times, as the anticipation increased. Every time the door flew open, he held his breath.
Until finally, it was Castiel’s turn. He was wearing sunglasses, and was dragging a big suitcase in one hand, and holding cautiously Honeybee’s carrier in the other.
The moment Dean saw him, his face lit up.
“Cas, here!” he said, lifting his hand, and hurried towards him to meet him.
Relief spread across Castiel’s face at the sight of Dean. He let go of his suitcase, and gently put down the carrier next to him, and instantly wrapped his arms around him as soon as he was within his reach.
“Missed me?” asked Dean.
“You have no idea.” And he tightened the hug.
Due to Castiel’s work, they hadn’t seen each other in over a week. Castiel had traveled between France and L.A. for the last ten days. They had still spoken to each other every day, while Dean had resided at the brownstone in the meantime, until he left a day ago to meet him here.
“How was the flight?”
“Good. The one back to New York felt long, but good. I was worried about the timing with Honeybee but—” he stopped himself, taking in a deep breath. “Everything is fine. What about you?”
“Same. I enjoyed the trip.”
“Yeah?” asked Castiel, happy to hear it.
“Yup. Everything went smoothly. I think…I think I needed to do this. I’m glad I did.”
“I can’t wait to hear all about it,” said Castiel.
“There’s not much to tell.”
“Don’t care. I still want to hear all about it.”
“Okay,” said Dean, laughing. “Ready for the last bit?”
“Lead the way, Mr. Winchester.”
Following Sam’s earlier instructions, they made their way through the parking lot, until they reached their car.
The ’67 Chevy Impala.
Dean couldn’t lie, it was a thing of beauty.
He sat in the driver’s seat. Rearranged the seat and mirrors.
He liked the car. It had a good feeling to it. He found himself grinning from ear to ear.
It didn’t spark memories though, which made Dean hesitate on starting the engine.
“You think it’s a good idea that I’m the one to drive us there?”
“You’ve been cleared to drive, honey,” Castiel reminded him.
Dean swallowed hard and turned the key.
He absolutely loved hearing the sound of the engine. He looked at Castiel and winked at him.
They turned onto a quiet street. Slowly making their way down the road, they observed the beautiful and homey residences, and large trees complimenting them, with wide eyes and excitement. Paying attention to the civic numbers, they finally spotted the one they were looking for, and Dean parked the car in the driveway.
Still seated in the car, Dean killed the engine and they both stared at the house.
A beautiful, two-story house. With large windows. A backyard. And a porch.
“What do you think?” asked Dean.
And Castiel’s sole answer was a gentle squeeze on his hand.
They climbed out of the car, grabbed their bags, walked to the front door with Honeybee.
Keys in hands, Dean turned around to look at the street. It just looked like any other street to him. No memories kicking in.
He unlocked the front door, and accessed the foyer.
Sam had said that not that much work had been done to the house since their parents had lived there. Besides the fridge and the microwave, which had been replaced by Dean a couple of years before he went missing, more or less the same appliances and furniture had remained.
Certain things, like the wallpaper and a few light fixtures, were a bit dated, but it didn’t feel old. It felt lived in. In a good way.
The house was well-kept, and had been cherished.
But no memory of that fact came to him.
Castiel, resting his chin on his shoulder, asked him, “Anything?”
Dean shook his head.
Despite the energy of the place. Despite the photographs on the walls. Despite everything.
Still nothing.
But Dean didn’t mind that much. Remembering would be amazing. But he judged that he had enough answers now to have a clear picture of his past. He had people who could help fill in the blanks if need be. And he knew who he was at his core. That was enough. That was more than what he thought he would ever have.
And besides, what truly mattered to him were his present and future.
And from where he was standing, with his heart full, and still incredulous of his luck to have met Castiel, the kindest soul there was, it was better than just amazing.
It was priceless.
“Based on what Sam told me, I think you’ll like the backyard,” he said to Castiel.
Hand in hand, they made their way through the ground floor, after Castiel freed Honeybee from his carrier, so he could go exploring as well.
The smile on Castiel's face, as they advanced through the main floor, taking in the large and soulful room, rendered Dean to quite a peaceful state. He had many of those these days, and would never take them for granted.
They reached the patio door in the dining room, and slid it open. Revealing a large backyard.
He took a look at Castiel, and Dean knew ideas of colourful gardens were already shaping in Castiel's mind. Where he could grow his own food. And maybe build an actual greenhouse.
Dean wrapped his arm around Castiel’s shoulder, and looked forward to many peaceful nights admiring the stars together.
“So? What do you think?”
Dean turned to Castiel, looking at him, always in awe of him, he said, “It feels like home. Especially with you.”
THE END