Brothers Keep Her

Dean spent the first three months driving around the continental United States searching after every attempt to summon you failed. And Sam let him go. It would have done no good to try to convince him to give up; he could have talked himself blue in the face and Dean would have climbed into the Impala and driven away anyway. Dean couldn’t understand why you would give up your chance at heaven to be Death, or why you couldn’t say goodbye, but still, he never opened up to Sam.

Nice to see you again, my friend. Crowley’s surly voice stands the hairs on the back of your neck.

Billie bows out as you turn to face him. “Crowley. What brings you all this way?” You are used to seeing him pop up now and then. You hate that you have to let him take any souls at all, but you can’t do anything when they choose to make those deals, or even those bad choices over and over again. Then again, you don’t mind letting Crowley take the really dark ones - the people who dedicated their lives to terror and destruction. At least you get to guide their victims to the Gates.

“I happen to enjoy Toronto, actually. The food trucks are top notch. Have you tried the deep fried hot dog and purple rice?”

“Not big on hot dogs.”

“Pity. The old Death was quite the connoisseur. Give it a try sometime.”

“You came all the way up here to talk about a hot dog?”

“No. I was hoping to bend your ear for a moment, if I may.” He’s always played off the seriousness of the chaos down below like it was a wrinkle in his tie.

“Of course,” you say, careful not to add I owe you one. He did, after all, tip you off to the asshole Reaper who abandoned Jonah. Thanks to Crowley, you were able to retrieve him and get him to the Gates in time.

NINE AND A HALF months after you walked away from the bunker in the middle of the night Dean is in an old, shut-down factory building in western Kansas, standing over a summoning bowl. He and Sam are working a particularly puzzling case, and they realized they needed Crowley. “What do you know about Bellvue, Colorado?” Dean asks him.

“Who, me? Dean, why on Earth would you ever think I had something to do with your case? Or that I would even help you?”

“Shut it, Crowley, I don’t have time for your bullshit.”

“And I have time for yours? Lucky for you, I’ve got my hands full with Lucifer’s mess.”

Dean turns to leave. “Great. Useless as usual. You can go, now.”

“I don’t suppose either of you has come up with any solutions to our mutual problem?”

“We’re working on it,” Dean growls.

Crowley licks his teeth as he watches the Winchester walk away, still secretly harboring the bitterness of their falling out, and irritated that they can still successfully summon him at will. That kind of thing doesn’t win him any points down below. He has a reputation to rebuild, so he decides to burn Dean a little bit. Any little dig at the Winchesters earns another morsel of respect from his court, and he knows Dean well enough to know exactly what to say. “She’s doing rather well, you know.”

Dean freezes mid-step and tenses nearly every muscle in his body.

“She’s really taken to the role. You’d think she was born to it.”

Dean’s shoulders fall a little, but he doesn’t look at the demon. “Tell her...” He stops. It stings that Crowley has been in communication with you over the last year. He doesn’t know what to say because what he wants to say isn’t what he’s supposed to say right now, and he knows that.

“She’s not gone, Dean.”

He wants to take the bait and say, ‘Well, she’s not here, is she?’ but he knows better. Crowley’s always up to something and this is just another excuse for the demon to dangle something in front of him. He takes another step away before Crowley speaks up again.

“You know why she did it, don’t you? The Reapers. She did it because they were going to toss you and Sam out into the void the first chance they got. She gave up heaven so that you and Sam wouldn’t be damned to the Empty.” He scuffs his foot across the dusty floor.

Bristling, Dean finally spins around to face him. “What do you want, Crowley?”

The demon eyes him, dragging it on. “You remember those scratches on the back of her hand, don’t you?”

“And?” Dean fumes.

Crowley cracks a wicked smile. “You’re welcome.”

Before Dean can ask him what the hell he means, Crowley is gone. No matter - it doesn’t take him long to figure it out.

THREE MONTHS LATER

“Sammy, grab me a beer while you’re in there,” Dean calls out. He splits and shuffles the deck of cards in his hands after downing the last few drops from his brown glass bottle. The laptop sits open on the table, but it’s quiet and the screen is dark.

He doesn’t know you’re there. You don’t know if you’d be welcome after leaving the way that you did but you had to come back. Does he have a girlfriend, now? After what Crowley told you, you realized that your “clean cut” may not have been the best decision. You rub the scars on the back of your hand.

The laptop blinks to life and starts playing a cover of an old familiar song.

"Mama told me when I was young

Come sit beside me, my only son

And listen closely to what I say

And if you do this it’ll help you some sunny day...”

Dean freezes mid-shuffle and stares at the computer out of the corner of his eye. His back heaves with the slow, deep breaths that fill his lungs.

He reaches for the laptop and pulls it closer. Unlocking the screen, he opens the music player and pauses the song. He stares at it for a moment, shifting the bones of his jaw as he grinds his teeth. Sounds of closing drawers come from the kitchen, and Dean lets out a heavy sigh before pushing the computer back to the middle of the table.

"Boy, don’t you worry, you’ll find yourself

Follow your heart and nothing else

And you can do this, oh baby if you try

All that I want for you, my son, is to be satisfied...”

He places the deck on the table and turns his head. His movements are slow, deliberate; he shifts in his seat and cases the room with steely eyes and his mouth pressed thin. Your heart flutters, and you forget for a moment that you’re not supposed to be able to feel that anymore.

Shinedown belts out their rendition of the chorus as he stands, the wooden legs of his chair scraping across the floor. “Sam,” he calls. “Are you messing with me?”

Sam walks in with two beers, a bowl of salsa and a bag of chips. “What?”

“Did you turn on the computer?”

Sam cocks his head. “No... How would I do that? I was in the kitchen.”

Dean’s still searching the room, but you’re still invisible to them. “I dunno, some freaking remote control or something. Tech stuff.”

“Right because I have the money to spend on things we don’t need.” Sam’s smirk draws a smile across your face. “Why?” He sets the chips and salsa on the table and hands Dean a beer.

“It just turned on all by itself. I turned it off and it started up again on its own.”

“Huh,” Sam says. “What are you looking for?” He glances around the room.

Dean takes a deep breath and runs his hand over his head. “I dunno, man. I dunno.” He tips his bottle, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s your deal,” he says, and they sit down at the table again.

You smile at the sight of them, together. Happy. Good. They’re good.

You jump when Billie is suddenly beside you. “Are you going to say hello?” she asks in her velvety voice.

“I don’t think so,” you whisper, though you don’t have to. They can’t hear you unless you want them to.

“Seems a bit of a shame to come all this way and not say hello.” She gives you that snarky smile that makes you roll your eyes. You know she’s right. She hated these boys when you first met, but she’s softened up to them because of you.

“Yeah, but it was just a few days. They probably barely remember anymore.”

Billie lowers her chin and lifts her eyebrows. “You’re kidding, right?”

You look at her and shrug. So maybe you hope they still remember you... but it’s better if they don’t. Not because it would hurt them... because it would hurt you. And Death can’t have Earthly emotional attachments. They get in the way of the job.

She sighs through her nose. “They remember. They’ve moved on, because that’s what they do. They carry on. If you ask me, there’s nothing wrong with spending a little time with your old friends now and then, long as it doesn’t lead to another apocalypse or anything like that.”

“I have work to do, Billie. I’ve already stayed two minutes too late.” You watch Sam slap the table and laugh at his brother, laying down his winning hand.

“I got you, boss. Just remember to come back.” She winks at you.

You shake your head to protest, but she’s already gone. The boys are laughing, and Sam gets up and rubs his stomach. “You wanna go out?”

Dean almost chokes on his beer. “You? Did you just ask me to go out?”

Sam shrugs. “What? I feel like hitting the bar tonight. It’s Friday. Maybe we can find some live music.”

Dean stands, smiling. “I’m gonna go get my jacket before you change your mind, brother.” He raises his bottle in cheers to Sam and chugs the rest of his beer.

Sam scoops up the empty salsa bowl and beer bottles and takes them to the kitchen as Dean heads toward his room. Your heart pounds in your ears and you know if you’re going to say hello, you better do it now. You don’t know when you’ll have a chance to come back again.

You allow yourself to materialize in the empty study, then tiptoe to the table. You slide the laptop toward you and unlock the screen - of course, you don’t need the password. You’re just about to play another song when you hear a set of footsteps come to a sudden halt.

“[Y/N]?” Sam rasps.