Because like hell or high water, he was not going to wait another second.
“Dean, Dean!” Sam attempted to grab his attention, both hands on the handle on the ceiling in a small attempt to hold himself together at the speeds Dean was driving. “Who was that, Dean? Who was it?”
“We need to go, we need to go,” Dean only repeated instead. It was not until later that he realized he had never put his phone on speaker or that Sam had no idea why he was jolted out of sleep until they arrived at that empty alley.
There were no other souls around the alley, but the light just above the telephone pole flickered and sparked every few minutes. It was almost fitting really.
“Oh my God…” he vaguely heard Sam whisper in the background, but Dean wasn’t paying attention to that. He was paying attention to the figure standing in front of the telephone booth.
He looked the same, and yet the clothes he wore should be nothing but ashes right now. Or maybe they were slightly different. He always did like wearing a stupid trench over anything else.
When he turned, however, Dean knew. He didn’t need tests. He didn’t need blood to be drawn. He didn’t need a blade. Without realizing what he was doing, he began to close the distance. Right in that moment, that distance of a few feet felt like a few inches. He was done. So done with everything, prepared to not come back.
Dean spoke with every step. “You…”
Dean nearly tried to convince Billie before he was thrust back. “Son…”
Two feet. “ Of a…”
“Bitch” Dean collided with shoulder’s first, both arms moving to wrap around the other man’s form and hold on tightly. “You son of a bitch,” his voice finally broke.
He heard Sam’s footsteps get closer, but what made more of an impact was the other man’s arms match his own and pull Dean closer. He could practically hear the heartbeat underneath the other man’s chest.
“You son of a bitch,” he mouthed into the crook of the other man’s skin, fully aware his face was not wet because of any sweat or otherwise.
He still had yet to say something, anything. But his phone call had said it all.
Two words, simple words he’d never thought he’d hear again in that gravely voice.
Just a few hours earlier, Dean was dead in more than a literal sense, lost. And now, his angel pulled him out.