running home, running home,
running home, running home

for emma, bon iver

chapter sixteen

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SHE FIXED the car. All the way down to the damn tape deck, she fixed it. Dean doesn't know how, and he decides not to question it.

On the drive home, Sam gets a call from the hunters back at the bunker. They learned that all of Michael's monsters have simply...gone. What they could find, dead, and the rest vanished. He can't fathom everything she must've been feeling in those fleeting moments. Everything it could've taken from her in order to focus on reversing all the damage Michael did, and still try to talk to him.

There's an emptiness in the air as they return to the bunker. It's been his home for far longer than he's known Catherine, but now it doesn't feel right. It doesn't quite feel like home without her there.

It's even worse returning to his bedroom. There's traces of her all over it. From her shoes in the corner next to his to his jacket draped over the chair that she kept stealing. Even the pillow on the bed that she's all but claimed.

He moves to leave, but stops when his eye catches something on the desk. He slowly goes over and sinks into the chair.

For a while, he just sits there, staring at it. He can almost feel it staring back.

As slowly as he walked over, he picks it up.

The cassette only has two words written on the front.

For Cath.

He gently brushes his thumb over her name. It was supposed to be a birthday gift, but she never acknowledged the day herself and he thought maybe she wouldn't have wanted him to. Then everything with Jack happened and he forgot about the whole thing for a while. Then he thought, maybe Christmas.

He glances at his watch. It's well past midnight, nearing closer to sunrise now. Christmas day.

Too late. And she's not here.

Merry fucking Christmas.

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HE ENDS up on the floor of his room, leaning against the bed with a bottle of whiskey in hand. He's well aware that he won't be getting to sleep sober.

There's a record playing, he didn't pay much attention to which one he grabbed. After listening for a second, he thinks it might be Stranger In Town.

He closes his eyes and takes another drink.

A gentle knock echoes through the room. He grumbles, "Yeah?" And the door opens.

"Can I come in?" It's Jack, standing in the doorway. Dean looks up and nods him in. He cautiously walks over and sits on the ground next to Dean, keeping a safe distance. "I, um..." He awkwardly clears this throat. "I know Sam and Cas, if I went to them, they'd listen, but..."

He gets it. "Yeah."

"It feels weird. Being in here without her."

"Feels wrong," he mumbles.

Jack nods. "Like there's a...missing piece."

Dean traces the lip of the bottle with his thumb. He feels so unsteady, being alone with Jack. He's never known what to say to the kid, he hardly does now. He's always been terrified of saying something wrong.

He glances over, just for a moment. He's not really looking at anything, sitting sort of curled in on himself. The position reminds him so much of Cath.

He thinks about how many times he's sat in a similar position, with his father on the other end. Usually in silence, though Dean was often trying to figure out ways to talk to him. It never seemed to happen. Anything Dean wanted to say, it always sounded ridiculous in the aspect of saying it to his father.

God knows he's hurt this kid enough. He'd be horrified if Jack thought him anything like his father.

"Jack?"

He looks up, saying nothing.

"You know she really loves you."

He grins at the statement. Dean blows out a breath and takes a drink, for a bit of liquid courage. Then he goes on, "And I know we don't...I know there's not a lot of talking going on around here, but, we all do. Y'know. You're family."

He nods, his grin growing wider. "Thank you."

He takes another drink.

"Can I have some?"

"Absolutely not."

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A WEEK passes. Then another. Then three. Three painfully long weeks of chasing cold leads. Nobody likes to leave Dean alone for too long, and he gets it. He sort of has a reputation.

The world has seemed to go on without them. Hunters have slowly trickled out of the bunker, doing what they can where they can. The four of them, though...well, it's safe to say nobody's sleeping much, least of all Dean.

Now he sits in the library, in the early hours of the morning, when it's still dark. Only Sam is in the room with him, typing away on his laptop. Dean stares blankly at his own, unable to focus on the screen, unable to pull his mind away from that moment she disappeared.

He's pretty much ignored it this entire time. Ignored her one request, because he couldn't bring himself to answer it. Couldn't bring himself to go along with what she'd planned. He still can't. He just doesn't know what else to do.

He gets up from his chair and leaves the library. He makes his way through the halls, to one of the many storage rooms within the bunker. The light clicks on as he walks in. For a second, he doesn't move. He just stands there. Then, with a deep sigh, he goes over to a dark corner and grabs the box he'd hidden there.

He brings it into the light and sets it– or, more like drops it– onto another shelf.

The blades shine in the light when he opens the box. Just two of them– the one he used to kill Lucifer, and the one left behind by Gabriel. He hid them away because, with Michael being the only archangel left, they're essentially useless. Just another sharp edge.

He understands why she asked him to get them. He does. He just doesn't know if he can live with it.

Archangel blades can only be wielded by another archangel. He understood the minute she asked– she wants to use it on herself.

Logically, it only makes sense. Especially considering she somehow managed to harness Michael's powers while kicking his consciousness to the side. If she can do that, she can damn well manage to use her own archangel-adjacent hands to kill him herself.

He knows it'll work, from a purely logical standpoint. And he understands. Last card, no other options. If he told anyone else about it, he knows they'd agree.

But he can't. Michael was right, no matter how hard he's tried to deny it. He can't hate the bastard more than he loves her.

And, God, he fucking loves her.

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LATER, IN the kitchen while he's guzzling coffee, Dean's phone rings. His brows furrow at the sight of Rowena's contact on his screen. He answers and brings the phone to his ear.

"Rowena?"

Hello, Dean. Is Sam there with you?

"Uh, no. He's..." He rubs his eyes as he thinks. "I don't know where he is. Probably trying to get some rest. What's up?"

Well, your brother informed me of your...situation. Or, should I say, Mack's situation.

"What about it?" It comes out much more defensive than he intended.

I think I can help. Sam told me you have a semblance of a plan, you just need to find her, yes?

"Yeah, but Michael's not exactly easy to find."

Like I said, I can help.

"And why would you?"

Aye, haven't we gotten past this point, Dean? I want to help, if not for you than for her. Is caring a crime now, eh?

"Oh."

She makes a vaguely Scottish noise on the other end. Just meet me in two hours, would you? She doesn't leave room for argument by hanging up. He stares at his phone for a second, slightly baffled, before getting up to go tell the others.

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"HOW DO you know this is even going to work?" Dean questions Rowena, two hours later as they all stand gathered in a field not far from the bunker.

"I don't, not for certain," Rowena answers matter-of-factly. She kneels on the ground with her supplies spread all around her.

"So, we're just supposed to trust you."

"Witchcraft is an art, dear, not a science, I can't guarantee anything."

"Where did you even get this spell?" Sam asks, examining the parchment in his hands.

"I wrote it. It's taken me a minute to work out the kinks, which is why I didn't call earlier. Now," She stands, brushing off her hands, and turns to Dean. "Did you bring what I asked?"

He nods and reaches into his pocket, then holds out the item in his palm. She stares at it for a second, then shoots him a deadpan look. "A bullet?"

"What?"

"I said something personal."

"It is. She makes them. Personally."

"Personal meaning something that has meaning to her. She's probably made hundreds of those."

"Just take it. It'll work."

She rolls her eyes and takes it, mumbling under her breath, "You hunters."

What he decides not to share is the fact that Catherine taught him how to make different types of hunter-friendly bullets. The one he just handed off is infused with dead man's blood, and it's specifically the one she used to show him how to do it. He found it a few days ago among the things of hers scattered in his room. He didn't know she kept it. When Rowena asked him to bring something that might have meaning to Cath...well, it seemed like fate.

"The spell is ready," Rowena announces. "Now, listen. You boys need to be ready. The spell and whether it works is the easy part. The hard part is staying alive long enough to actually contain Michael."

"I'm sure we'll have no problem at all," Cas mumbles, an air of sarcasm to his tone.

"We've been ready for this, haven't we?" Says Jack. "We know what we need to do. We've planned for this." It sounds like he's reassuring himself more than anyone else, but Dean still nods at him.

"We're ready."

Rowena exhales slowly and drops the bullet into her bowl. The mixture sparks and a cloud of smoke erupts as she begins to recite the words to the spell.

The wind begins to pick up, a low whistling sound accompanying it. They hear what might be thunder in the distance over the sound of Rowena's chanting. She gets increasingly louder, and increasingly strained. She throws out a hand, and slowly twists it into a fist as she shouts out the last of the words.

Purple energy begins swirling around her hand, and her eyes glow the same color. Everything goes still, just for a moment. Then thunder erupts and a blinding blue bolt of lighting strikes the ground where Rowena aimed, and Michael appears as the bolt dissipates.

The next few moments happen in a blur. Time slows down and speeds up simultaneously. The energy surrounding Rowena's hand shoots towards Michael and she falls to her knees as Dean, Sam, and Cas rush the archangel. In her disorientation, she didn't even see them coming.

Power erupts from her in a blind attempt to counteract the attack, but it merely hits a tree. Cas throws a lighter to ignite the circle of holy fire and backs away. Sam wrestles her from her spot and shoves her towards Dean. He grabs her arms and wrenches them behind her, snapping the angel cuffs over her wrists.

He leans into her ear and whispers, "Got you."

Then they're jumping out of the circle and backing away.

The flames heighten as they leave the circle, tinting a shade of purple before returning to their natural color. They die down, uncovering their view of Michael. Everything goes quiet as she takes in the scene.

Sam and Jack both tend to Rowena, helping her stand and stay upright.

"You think these can hold me?"

"Yeah, I think they can," Dean answers, without a shred of doubt. He glances at Rowena. "You good?"

She nods, despite her heavy panting. "I'll be fine."

A smirk grows on Michael's face. "Do what you want, then, boys, but there's nothing you can do to get your Catherine back. She's gone."

"You're lying," Jack immediately counters.

She shrugs, and says nothing more.

Sam goes to break the circle, and Dean takes his spot by Rowena. "What the hell was that spell?"

"Eh, it was less of a summoning and more of a...capturing. Due to his nature a summoning wouldn't have been strong enough, so I took the elements of one and adjusted it to his power level, which resulted in that. It's more like I...ripped him across space. Hence the lighting. Also, I threw on a bit of a stun there at the end, for good measure. You boys are strong, but not that strong. I had to get him down to your level."

"Thank you?"

"Aye." She waves a hand in dismissal. "It took more out of me than I thought it would, but it's all fine. Just need a drink."

"Well, that's easy to manage. But, seriously, Rowena, thank you," He glances back over to the others, where Cas is binding Michael's wrists with rope atop the cuffs for good measure. He tries not to look too hard at her face. "Thank you for this. We owe you."

"No, you don't. Not this time, just get her back."

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author's note !!

rowena is so mother

anyways hey besties how are we feeling

btw i made a playlist for dean's mixtape in case anyone wants to know what's on it

(bc i'm not sure how much i'll get into the actual songs when it comes up again)

(shoutout to my mom for helping me make the playlist)

(i thank god everyday that she didn't ask more questions when i told her it was for a story)

here it is:

enjoy <3

u know the drill my loves make sure to vote and comment if ur enjoying <3

thanks for reading!!

-skye