Dean finds him outside.
Castiel is sitting on the hood of the Impala, his eyes closed and legs crossed. The trademark trenchcoat the angel is never seen without is lying on the ground in a bundle, with a pressed black jacket and a tie. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone, and his sleeves are rolled up to the elbow.
It's the most casual Dean has ever seen the angel. Somehow, it scares him.
"Hey man," Dean says, wincing a little at the shift of metal under him as he joins Cas on the hood. Later, he's so going to lecture Cas about sitting on his car. "How are you holding up?"
"I fell from grace less than three days ago," Cas says, briefly opening his eyes to glare at Dean. "How do you think I'm doing?"
"Just asking," Dean quickly replies, holding his hands up. "Just wanted to make sure you're not about to go off yourself or anything stupid like that."
"What good would killing myself accomplish?" Cas asks, closing his eyes and turning his face up to the sky once more. "I cannot ever return to Heaven. Most of Hell would line up for a chance to torture information from me. And I'm still able to aid you in your quest here, limited as I am in my new form. No, killing myself would be unwise."
"You sound like you've thought about it," Dean says, chuckling nervously.
"I had. For a brief moment. After all, what is an angel without it's grace?" Castiel hums thoughtfully. Dean tries to push down the pinprick of panic that hits him. "But no, I realized it was a foolish notion to entertain. I am still me, and I will continue to stay by your side, and help you win this war."
"Thanks Cas," Dean says, and silence falls. A moment later he lays back against the windshield of the Impala, looking up at Castiel silhouetted against the evening sky. He's not sure why, but he can't take his eyes off the way the fading sunlight shines against Cas, illuminating him in gold and orange.
Castiel wishes he could forget.
In his dreams he feels the pain of a thousand needles ripping at his back, feels the aching inferno tearing through his wings, he feels the sensation of
and hitting the ground with a thunderclap and sonic boom, found by Sam and Dean in a crater stretching 500 yards in every direction away from him.
He wakes up screaming most nights, scrambling in the covers, kicking and clawing his way out to fresh air. Dean has taken to sharing a bed with him, waking up each time he does and speaking in a low and soothing voice, bringing Cas back to reality.
Tonight is no different.
Cas is shaken awake, his eyes snapping open. He shoves against whatever's holding him with all his might, feeling only the searing agony surging and ebbing in his upper back.
He's wild and frantic, legs tangled in the bedclothes, his hands ripping at his hair without him even noticing.
And then there's a touch.
A cool and comforting touch, stroking his back, over and over again, banishing the residual phantom pain.
Cas slowly comes back to himself, relaxing more and more into Dean's touch.
He falls back against the pillows, wanting desperately to rest, but unable to. The panic of the nightmare is stuck in his throat, rising and choking him every few seconds.
"Breathe," Dean whispers, gently running his fingertips over Castiel's arm. "It's okay. I'm here. You're okay."
Castiel's hand finds Dean's under the covers, and despite the slightly awkward position, Dean's hand in his is comforting. Dean doesn't protest, just lets him grip his hand until Cas is sure he's cut off circulation.
"I'm sorry," Castiel breathes into the darkness, inhaling sharply as another wave of panic chokes him. He knows he can breathe, logically, but it feels like there's a hand around his throat squeezing every few seconds and cutting off his air flow. He tips his head back a little, hoping to trick his body into realizing he's okay.
"Don't apologise," Dean says, quiet and close to Cas's ear. "It's fine. God only knows how many panic attacks I had when I came back from Hell."
And Cas, naive as he is about human emotion, recognizes that Dean's just taken a big step. He can count on one hand the number of times he's seen Dean admit to feeling fear.
So he curls in closer to Dean and runs his thumb over Dean's, hoping to convey his understanding without words. Dean must know what he means, because he holds Cas a little tighter, and it's not long before Cas is drifting back to sleep.
His last thought before losing consciousness is that Dean's arms are warm and strong and safe.
Sam isn't sure what to expect when he glances out Bobby's window. He sure as hell wasn't expecting to see Dean and Cas, huddled close enough to be one person, looking down at a road map. Dean's arm is slung over Cas's shoulders, the angel's head comfortably resting in the crook of Dean's neck.
They've just finished a hunt a few towns over, nothing but a simple restless ghost terrorizing her husband's secret affair family, and stopped by Bobby's for a little R&R before hitting the road again. Looking at the scene outside, Sam isn't sure he gets a choice in where they go next.
He knows Dean and Cas have been growing steadily closer since Cas's fall from grace. Sure they'd already had a weird tension before, but now there's something a little extra. Sam pretends not to notice the mornings when he wakes up first, greeted by the sight of his brother and an angel tangled together under messy bedsheets. He looks the other way when Dean lets Cas sit up front in the Impala for long stretches of time as they travel from state to state. He even kept his mouth shut that one time Dean let Cas share his pie.
"When did they become a thing?" Bobby asks over Sam's shoulder, scaring the living daylights out of him.
"Jesus Bobby, don't do that!" Sam shouts, rubbing his wrist from where he hit it on the wall as he spun around, ready to clock whoever had snuck up on him. "And they're not a thing."
"Not yet," Bobby snorts, shaking his head and walking away. "You damn Wincesters, can't pick normal human partners to love."
Sam almost objects, about to name Jess and Lisa, before realizing that so far, his and Dean's track records for falling in love are tilted a little more towards the paranormal end of things. He sighs, glancing out the window again, where he can see Dean saying something to a laughing Cas, their heads about 2 inches apart and the road map completely forgotten.
"Goddamnit Bobby," Sam mutters, leaving the window and following the older hunter. "Stop being so right all the time."
The first thing he notices is that it's cold. It doesn't affect him, really, but if he concentrates on the sensation, goosebumps begin to rise along his vessel's skin.
Gabriel groans and sits up.
He's in a snowdrift, stark naked and shivering.
Gabriel stands, cracking the joints in his stiff neck and taking a long look at his surroundings. Swirling snowflakes fall all around, the night lit up bright by the full moon reflecting off the fallen snow.
The last thing he remembers is pain. A sharp, burning feeling filling his body, Lucifer's cold eyes staring down at him and a scorching heat spilling from his torso as his older brother twisted.
It wasn't the fact that he died that hurt him. He fully expected to be killed walking into that room.
It was the way Lucifer's lips curved into a small smirk as he ran Gabriel through, twisting the blade deeper into his body as he died. He still remembers eons ago, when the universe was new and Lucifer was full of light and hope. How things have changed.
Gabriel snaps his fingers, manifesting a warm parka and ski pants, grateful when his magic works. He wasn't sure that spending millennia as a pagan god went over well with his Father.
After all, who else could have resurrected him?
Gabriel begins to walk, having sighted the lights of a city not too far away through the snowstorm. He could have just popped in and saved himself the time, but there's something about being alive again that makes him want to relax and enjoy every step he takes
It isn't long before he's on the outskirts of the city, stomping the snow off his boots in the doorway of an old fashioned bar.
"Well don't you look like a jolly good fellow," Gabriel smirks at the stoic bartender as he walks up. "Hey mister, you don't happen to know what town I'm in, do ya?"
"Lake Tahoe, California," the bartender replies, picking up glasses to clean. "Where are you coming from?"
"Oh, nowhere in particular," Gabriel's smirk widens as he spots a familiar figure in the back corner. "See ya around."
He crosses the bar.
"My oh my, just my luck to run into my favorite Winchester here. Where's Dean-o?"
Sam's head snaps up at the sound of his voice, a million emotions flitting through his eyes. Gabriel drops into the seat opposite Sam.
"You're dead," Sam says, finally settling on a mixture of shock and anger.
"Apparently not. Turns out I might be Dad's favorite after all."
Sam's eyes harden.
"You faked it again, didn't you? God, Gabriel, how could you? And I actually believed it this time."
Gabriel ignores the hurt that floods his system at Sam's words and plasters on a grin worthy of the Cheshire Cat.
"Shockingly, not this time, Sammy-Man. I was dead as a doornail with a cherry on top. Then I woke up about 40 minutes ago, near this country hick town, and, well, here we are."
"You're... not lying?" Sam asks, wonder creeping across his face.
"Believe me, I wish I had faked it. That would have been quite the trick. But no." Gabriel lifts his shirt, exposing the perfectly pointed star shaped scar on his stomach, the faintest silver sheen reflecting off it in the light. "Dad left this as a reminder."
Sam relaxes, pity twisting his expression up as he sits back. Gabriel knows that angels don't get scars without interference from God, and Sam must know it too because all the doubt and suspicion in the air has vanished.
"So what are you boys doing here in Nowheresville, California?" Gabriel sits back too, relaxing now that he knows Sam isn't about to bust out the angel blade and send him straight back to wherever he was.
"Tulpas in Mt. Shasta, a few hours northwest of here."
"Ah, the little alien men living in the mountain," Gabriel nods, then frowns. "Wait don't tell me you killed them? They're harmless."
"No, we were more worried about the cult performing blood sacrifices to them. The tulpas just wanted to be left alone. How do you know about them?"
"Sammy, come on, I'm a Trickster. Give me a little more credit here. I started the legends in the first place."
"Well, people definitely believed them. Cas helped us out though. Who knew he'd be good at negotiating with cults?"
"How is my little bro doing?" Gabriel asks, noting the way Sam tenses up, his eyes skittering nervously away from Gabriel's face.
"He's uh, well, he fell. A few months ago. It's been rough, but Dean's helping him get through it." Sam's fingers are tapping on the table now, a frantic beat that suggests things aren't as fine as he's saying.
"Listen." Gabriel sighs after a short pause. "You're not allowed to tell a single soul this, but I do have a heart somewhere deep in here, and it's aching something fierce for that little seraph right now. Give me a call if Cas ever needs it, okay?"
Sam gives him a smile, nothing big, just the corner of his lips twitching up a centimeter, but it's genuine.
They stay talking in the bar until the sun rises, shining pale through the cloudy sky.
Gabriel watches Sam get more comfortable with him as the time passes, laughing and having fun, and thinks he could get used to this.
It's been almost a year since Castiel fell.
Dean steps out of the motel room, squinting angrily into the wind that's threatening to knock over a few trees.
"Cas?" He calls, zipping his jacket up to keep it from flying everywhere. "Cas where'd your feathery ass disappear to?"
He doesn't get an answer back, so starts walking, growing steadily more worried with every step that takes him further away from the hotel. Castiel can't have gotten too far, he's human now.
"Cas!" Dean shouts, hurrying down the sidewalk. "Castiel?!"
There's movement to his left, a figure among the trees in the small park down the street. Dean races towards it, relief washing over him when the angel begins to come into clearer focus.
The worry comes racing back though, when he realizes that Cas is just standing in the middle of the open clearing. What on Earth is the angel doing?
"Cas?" He asks carefully, slowly approaching him.
"Dean," Cas says, turning and grabbing his hand. His eyes are shining a brighter blue than they have in months. "Come here and close your eyes."
"Okay..." Dean says slowly, stepping closer to Cas and closing his eyes. He feels a little like he's in a cheesy chick flick, but nothing happens. He cracks an eye open, looking sideways at Cas, who's facing the wind with his eyes closed and completely free of the normal tension tightening his face.
"It feels like flying," Cas mutters without opening his eyes. "I feel like I'm flying again."
Dean closes his eyes again and breathes, trying to feel what Cas is feeling. The wind is cold against his skin, whipping around him in gusts that send shivers down his spine. He tries to imagine feeling this without the ground beneath his feet, twirling and dipping among the treetops.
For a second, he does.
He feels like he's flying.
He feels free.
And then Cas's hand tugs on his and he's brought down to Earth. He turns to face Castiel, catching sight of a wide grin and glowing happiness in his eyes before Cas's lips are on his.
It's warm, and real, and his hand comes up to cup Cas's face, and he's laughing and grinning as he kisses the angel over and over again.
He pulls away and rests his forehead against Castiel's.
"I felt it," Dean whispers gleefully. "I felt like I was flying.
"I know," Cas breathes and captures him in a kiss once more. "Thank you."
The wind is still swirling around them, cold and unrelenting.
Cas's hand is warm in his though, as they walk back to the motel together.
The motel room is dark, lit only by the long forgotten TV.
Cas's hands fist into the sheets. Dean's mouth is on his neck, their bodies pressed together, pleasure crashing over him in waves.
It's nothing like he's ever felt before.
Afterwards, they're lying together in bed, idly watching the old I Love Lucy reruns on the only channel this motel offers.
Cas is tucked again Dean's side, his fingers lightly running back and forth across Dean's hands.
"Dean?" Cas asks, propping himself up. Dean's face is just inches away and he leans forward, kissing him lightly.
"Yes Cas?" Dean mumbles against his lips.
"We're going to do that a lot more, right?"
Dean laughs, a deep rumble that Cas can feel where their chests are touching.
"Absolutely, Cas," Dean said, kissing him again. "Absolutely."
Hours later, the TV is still going and Dean's fallen asleep. Cas is twirling his fingers through Dean's hair, glancing at the screen every now and then. He's loosely following the plot, but his focus is more on Dean.
It's been weeks since they kissed in the park.
And while Dean showers him with affection when they're alone, Cas has noticed that outside the motel rooms and around Sam, Dean keeps his distance.
Cas knows that modern humans are strange when it comes to love.
He wonders why they think his Father cares so much.
Even if God hadn't been MIA for millennia, he wouldn't care.
Dean shifts, grumbling a little in his sleep. Cas looks down, taking in the way Dean's arm curls protectively over him.
He slowly moves it, inching away from Dean without waking him.
Cas slips out of bed, pulling on his pants and the nearest of Dean's T-shirts.
He steps outside, into the freezing night air. That was a mistake. He's still getting used to the increased sensitivity that comes with being human. Cas shivers and moves to go back inside when there's the telltale flutter of wings and he's whirling around, ready to fight barehanded for his life.
"Whoa! Easy there bro! It's just me!" The intruder blocks his punch, and Cas lets his hand fall in surprise.
"Gabriel?" He asks through chattering teeth.
"Castiel! Long time no see."
Cas just stares at him.
"Sam did tell you I'm back, right? If not, this just got a whole lot more awkward."
"Sam did." Cas is shaking from the cold now, wondering why he thought going outside was a good idea. "He said you were going to be in Morocco for a while."
"Yea, well, plans change." Gabriel shrugs, then frowns at him. "Hey buddy, your lips are turning blue. That's not normal."
"Too cold out here," Cas mutters, turning and opening the door. Gabriel follows him into the motel room.
"Cas?" Dean slurs sleepily from the bed. "Where'd ya go?"
"He went out in this weather like an idiot," Gabriel says. Dean shoots up, a knife appearing in his hands from out of nowhere. "It's like -4° outside Cas, not your wisest choice."
"Cas?" Dean whirls on him, concern seeping into his voice. "What the hell were you thinking?"
Dean races over, rubbing his hands up and down Cas's arms, obviously trying to bring warmth back to them.
"Hey asshole, make yourself useful and go start a lukewarm shower." Dean calls over his shoulder. Gabriel flips him off but stands up a second later and enters the bathroom.
"Here, Cas, get out of those clothes and take this blanket. We have to get your body temperature back up, but slowly. Too fast and it could make things worse."
"Sorry," Cas says, pressing closer into Dean's warmth. "Wasn't thinking."
"As adorable as this is, I think your shower's ready now," Gabriel says, smirking at them from the doorway. "If you two start having sex in there though, I'm leaving."
"We won't," Dean says, glaring at Gabriel as they enter the bathroom. "Don't touch anything."
Dean sits on the closed toilet while Cas showers, trying to banish the bone deep ache of coldness filling his body. The water feels too hot, like it's burning his skin, but he knows that it's barely warmer than room temperature.
"Too much longer out there and you would've been hypothermic, Cas." Dean hands him a towel as he shuts off the water and steps out. "You're still getting used to your human body, you have to be careful."
"I know, I'm sorry." Cas looks down at the floor, where a small puddle is forming beneath him. The uncontrollable shivering has stopped, but he's still feeling cold to the touch.
"Don't apologise, just," Dean sighs, "Don't do it again, okay? I don't want to see you hurt."
"Okay," Cas promises, looking up into bright green eyes. "I'll be careful."
Sam is awakened by a thump.
He sits up slowly in the darkness, reaching for the pistol under his pillow.
The light flick on and he draws, aiming at the suddenly visible figure sitting at the table.
"Whoa whoa! Why does everyone keep trying to kill me?" The person shouts, snapping their fingers. Sam's gun disappears, replaced by a candy bar. He groans and falls back on the pillows.
"Not happy to see me Sammy boy?" Gabriel smirks. Sam turns on his side and flips off the archangel. "Ooh obscene hand gestures from such a pristine boy?"
"I hate you," Sam groans, ignoring the way his heart skips a beat around Gabriel's reference to one of his favorite movies.
"Thank you. I appreciate it."
"What are you doing here Gabriel?" Sam asks, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you'd be in Vegas by now."
"Sam, Sam, ye of little faith." Gabelu stands up and crosses the room to sit on the end of his bed. "I was in Vegas. Then I got bored. So here I am!"
"Dude it's like 2 in the morning, can this wait?"
"Your brother and Castiel are still awake."
"Ugh! I did not need to know that!"
Gabriel waggles his eyebrows at Sam, who gives him an unimpressed look.
"They're actually not doing the forbidden tango."
Sam wonders when his life became this.
"Cas wasn't thinking and went outside in the freezing cold and now Dean's being a mother hen and making sure he doesn't have hypothermia."
"Are they okay?" Sam asks, sitting up.
"Oh they're fine now, just being disgustingly sweet and cuddling under a pile of 4 blankets. So I came to bother you because I'm bored."
Sam rolls his eyes, but gets out of bed and joins Gabriel at the table.
"Alright, I'm not getting back to sleep tonight. What do you want to do?"
Sam notices the flash of surprise in Gabriel's eyes, that softens into something he'd almost call friendliness. He's not blind, he knows Gabriel's been slowly starting to warm up to him ever since that bar in Lake Tahoe.
"I'm thinking... Poker. Been wanting to test your skills since the first time we met."
Sam wonders as Gabriel explains his twisted, Trickster rules for poker.
He wonders when he started viewing Gabriel as a friend instead of an enemy.
Gabriel can't believe his luck.
He thinks his Daddy Dearest might have dosed him with an extra strong luck potion this time.
Coming back around town for another round with life was the start of it, evidently.
Then meeting Sam in that bar.
Then continuously popping up for late night chats with Sam since, and not once being trapped in a ring of holy oil or sent away with a sigil.
And now, sitting in the back of the Impala with Sam as the boys go off across the country on another hunt.
He's pretty much permanently joined the little trio at this point, and it's much different from what he's used to.
Really, he never had pictured his life turning out this way.
Sure, back on that college campus, when he and Sam had met for the first time, he'd had a few thoughts. Brief ones, really, that passed within minutes. Nope, no siree, no hanging around back of the mind fantasies about jumping Sam had ever occurred.
But, hypothetically, if they had, Gabriel was sure that was all they'd ever be. Fantasies.
Here he is though.
Cramped in the backseat of Dean's car, exchanging amused glances with Sam everytime Dean blushes from one of Cas's kisses on the cheek.
Gabriel could've just mojo'd them to the little town of Ashland, Oregon, where their next hunt is, but Dean had demanded to drive. Cas wouldn't go without Dean and Sam had been about to agree, but stopped halfway through "I wouldn't mind" when Dean had fixed him with a glare that could summon demons.
"I still think the teens got what was coming to them," Gabriel says, snapping his fingers and manifesting a stack of paper.
"Gabe, helping them is the right thing to do," Sam reminds him as he starts to fold a piece into an airplane.
"It's their own fault for buying an Ouija board from a clothing store. Really, you'd expect that to be a major clue that something was off." Gabriel tosses the first finished one at Dean's head, grinning when it hits him right on the ear. Dean flips him off.
"It's a good thing Kai called when he did. At least the ghost hasn't killed anyone yet. Theater kids, you can't take them in a group anywhere," Dean huffs.
"How do you know this Kai?" Cas asks, playing with Dean's hair. Gabriel's next plane hits Cas's fingers, who just turns and gives him an unimpressed look.
"Helped his cousin out a year or two ago. Dean, are we close yet?"
"We'll get there when we get there Sam."
Two hours and one fight that resulted in 40 minutes of silence later, they're pulling into a motel parking lot in Ashland, just down the street from the Southern Oregon University campus.
"I can't believe this was the cheapest place we could get," Dean grumbles as they unpack the car. "Freaking tourist trap towns."
Gabriel grabs Sam's duffel bag for him, winking when Sam gives him a confused look. He breezes into the open room, giving the place a once over.
Sam enters behind him, shutting the door with a quiet click.
"You know, I can carry my own stuff," Sam says, taking the bag from him.
"I know," Gabriel replies simply.
"Okay," Sam says, giving him another weird look. "So Dean and Cas are probably going to be getting acquainted with each other for a while, if the look Cas was giving him outside said anything. You want to go talk with the kids, ask them about the place they bought the board?"
"Or we could stay here and do a little acquainting of our own." Gabriel cocks an eyebrow and smirks at Sam.
"Ah, sorry, you know," Sam grins at him, "I would but I forgot to pack the condoms when we left."
Gabriel's eyebrow lifts higher. This isn't the first time Sam has responded to his flirting, but it has a playful tone to it that hasn't really been there anytime before.
"Well, archangel here," Gabriel shrugs, "There's really no need for condoms. Though I will admit, flavored ones bring a certain je ne sais quoi to the whole shabang."
Sam's grin widens and he slowly approaches Gabriel.
"Oh yea? You already gave me genital herpes once, I'm not sure I want to repeat the experience."
Gabriel stares for a second and then throws back his head and genuinely laughs.
It's been centuries since he met someone who could truly make him laugh like that.
And maybe it's the joy at Sam flirting back or the tiredness from sitting in a car all day (and he can't even get physically tired!), or whatever else he's feeling, but Gabriel is suddenly taking three steps forward and flinging his arms around Sam's neck.
There's a second of hesitation, where Gabriel's on his tiptoes and Sam's looking down at him in shock, but then something shifts in Sam's eyes and then they're kissing.
It's hot and messy, and neither of them are the type to go slow, and before long, Gabriel's stretched out on the bed and Sam's doing things with his mouth that are blowing his mind.
Which makes sense, considering Sam is literally blowing him.
Yea, Gabriel can't believe his luck, he thinks, hours later as Sam sleeps next to him on the bed.
He doesn't know where it's coming from, but he hopes it never stops.
Bobby's getting old. His joints creak and his back is stiff in ways he never thought possible.
He's watched Sam and Dean grow up, become strong, skillful men.
He remembers when Cas fell, all those years ago, when Dean spent months searching every book in Bobby's house, determined to help his angel. He saw the fire in Dean's eyes, heard the protective note in his voice when he said Cas's name, felt the bond between them grow steadily stronger as time went on. It wasn't a surprise at all when they announced their relationship. Well, announced is a strong word. More like, a bright red Dean coughed out, "Me and Cas share a room now," when Bobby silently questioned their tightly clasped hands. He knew they would go to the ends of the Earth and back for each other.
He also remembers when Gabriel came into the picture. The first time he appeared at Bobby's house, he got shot 9 times in about 10 seconds. It wasn't until Sam had explained the entire story twice that Bobby even considered putting the gun down. He didn't trust Gabriel for a long time, the memory of Ruby still too fresh. He could see the attraction between the two long before anything official was ever said. But after the 50th or so time that Gabriel saved Sam's life, not expecting anything except a "thank you" in return, his heart loosened up and he started to welcome Gabriel into their lives. He knew Gabriel was far better for Sam than anyone else ever had been.
Still though, he wonders when it became SamandGabe and DeanandCas. He wonders when he started considering the two angels as sons, just like Sam and Dean. He wonders what it'll be like for them when he passes on.
Oh, he's getting old alright. His end is near, and this time it's just natural old age getting to him. No demons, no apocalypse, no getting out of it.
Strange, he always thought he'd go down kicking and screaming and begging God to let him have just a few more minutes, days, weeks, months, years.
He'd accepted the inevitable young. Everybody dies eventually.
But he'd always thought he'd be more scared to meet the maker. Death is permanent, it's depressing, and it's downright terrifying to leave behind everything you've ever known.
But Bobby also knows that he's lived a good life. He's killed more evil than he could ever begin to count, he's saved the world from destruction more than a couple times at this point, and he's made sure his boys grew up good.
So he sits at the window and watches. Dean's trying to teach Cas for the 12the time about the mechanics of the Impala, the angel more focused on kissing him every time Dean turns to tell him something. Gabriel's dodging between the cars with Sam, the two playing a clearly made up sport that looks like a combination of football, basketball, and good old fashioned tag. Sam catches Gabriel and pins him against a car, kissing him deeply as he stealthily steals the ball from Gabriel. Bobby chuckles when Gabriel realizes his mistake, Sam celebrating as he obviously wins the game.
Watching the four of them down there in the scrapyard, Bobby realizes that he's leaving his boys in good hands. Whenever his time comes, whether it's tomorrow or 10 years from now, he knows one thing with absolute certainty.
They'll take care of each other.