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I'm glad you're here, man.
''So, he's doing alright?" Cas inquired, leaning precariously against the worn table that once belonged to the Men of Letters. The demon cure certainly hadn't gone according to plan from what Sam had filled him in on, though Cas doubted that the younger Winchester had told him all the details about what had truly happened in the Bunker's dungeon. Instead of gradually regaining his emotions, his humanity, the cure had back-fired on them, allowing Dean to escape. Hyped on on the inhumane wrath of the Mark mixed with the warped mind of a demon's, it almost let to one brother being executed by the other.
Sam let out a half-hearted sigh. ''As well as you'd expect, I guess.'' His eyes darkened as he lowered his head slightly. His voice took on a note of sadness. ''He won't even look at me, Cas.''
Castiel interjected. ''Sam, you know Dean as well as I do. It's not about you forgiving him-''Sam opened his mouth to interrupt but Cas continued on. ''It's about forgiving himself.''
''He did try to kill you, Sam. And while we both know he was under the influence that no one would have a chance of overcoming, Dean doesn't see it that way. All he knows is that it was his body going through the motions, even if he, the real Dean, wasn't there.''
When Sam remained silent, Cas added gently,''Get some sleep. The cure has taken a lot out of you, and I know you having been sleeping for the past six weeks.''
Sam, who looked damn near close to saying yes to that proposition, shook his head. ''I have to watch-''
''I'll watch over Dean. Now, go.'' Sam nodded, muttering a half-hearted good-night before retreating to his own room down the hall. Cas didn't miss that the younger Winchester had chosen to take the long route, most likely avoiding the hall where...that happened.
Cas couldn't help but feel sorry for the younger Winchester. He'd spent the majority of six entire weeks on a wild goose chase for his AWOL brother, running on nothing but emotion and caffeine. And when he finally caught up to Dean and tried to fix him, he got to play a twisted game of Cat-and-Mouse throughout the bunker halls and a hammer nearly embedded in his skull in return.
But then, Cas couldn't really blame Dean, either. After he lost his Grace and fell to Earth as a human, he had discovered...things. Emotions. They were not what he was expecting, to say the least. After rebelling against heaven, he had always yearned to feel true joy. Love. But what he didn't know is that with love came hatred. With happiness came the worst possible grief imaginable. Over those few months, Castiel found himself yearning for nothing more than to stop it all. Stop feeling.
He supposed it was the same with Dean. He'd been dragged through Hell and back, quite literally, all for one person. Sam. Cas couldn't imagine the pain that Dean felt when Sam wanted nothing to do with him. But he did know that if it was him,he would have wanted nothing more than the pain to just go away.
And so it did.
At least, until they came back. Until Sam came back.
Could Cas really blame Dean for wanting to just be left alone?
***
He waited until Sam had rounded the corner before making his way towards Dean's room. Honestly, the angel wasn't sure what he was expecting. Sure, it was almost certain that the only thing that Dean was doing was sleeping, but after everything that had happened today, from the cure to more stolen Angel Grace(Cas quivered in disgust at the thought of it), Castiel was ready for anything.
A low cry greeted him from the darkness. The fine hairs on the back on his neck slowly rising, Cas stuck his head in the open doorway, looking around. His eyes landed on the hunched form of Dean, curled in a cacoon of blankets, twitching heavily in his sleep. He let out another moan, Cas could see from where he stood that the hunter's eyes were screwed tightly shut. Whether from pain or something else, Cas couldn't tell.
Dean was having a nightmare.
Honestly, he should have predicted that from the start. After everything he had been through today, it must have been a living hell for him. Literally. But still, he could not help the sharp pang of grief that wrenched at his Grace. For he wanted nothing more than to reach out and help the human, his human. But he knew that he could not.
Cas was unsure what the social protocol was for a friend who recently was cured of being a demon who was having a nightmare was. For a few uneasy moments, the angel lingered in the doorway before realizing that he was being ridiculous and went to sit down on the end of Dean's bed.
''Cas...'' Dean cried in his sleep, arm lashing out. ''No, no!''
Cas inhaled sharply at the mention of his name. Almost instantaneously, unwanted memories of Dean, battered and bloodied as he was brought down to his knees, the business-end of an angel blade poised above him in the hands of no other than Cas himself. I need you... Those three simple words he had never truly stopped thinking about. They continued reverberating over and over in his mind, mocking him. Mocking him for what, however, Cas wasn't sure.
Focus, Cas thought fiercely. Dean needs(there was that damned word again)you.
Leaning forward until the angel was hovering directly over Dean's trembling form, Cas curled his palm around the hunter's jaw, letting out a short start of how warm he was. Fever, that was what the humans called it.
Beneath him, Dean let out another cry. ''No! Please...''
Cas visibly flinched. He hated seeing Dean in this much pain. But even with his replenished grace, he was no longer strong enough to alter someone's dreams, to ward away the nightmares. So he focused on something that he could do. He brushed his fingertips across his cheek carefully, so carefully as though using the slightest amount of force would somehow break the human, and used his grace to fight off the fever, at least temporarily.
Tapping into his new Grace was dangerous for him, especially because it had not yet settled completely in his body and could potentially burn out all at once, which would leave him good as dead. He didn't care. For Dean, Cas would risk the world. Hell, he already had.
I did it, all of it for you.
He realized.
I lov-
Dean woke up.
''Cas- Cas, no!''
''Dean! Dean, look at me.'' Everything that he had been contemplating seconds ago had been shoved back into the darkest corners of his mind. The place where all the crap that he couldn't bare to think of was stowed away, never to see the daylight again. The souls, Leviathan,finding out Dean was dead, those kind of things.
Cas grabbed for his arm to keep him from accidentally hurting himself while he slept. Bad mistake. The sudden action, although startling him out of his post-nightmare haze, shot him straight into attack mode. The next thing the angel knew was Dean's fist in his face, bone cracking under bone. He couldn't help the sharp cry of surprise that tore it's way out of his throat.
''Dean!''
The hunter thrashed around wildly, presumably grasping for a weapon to fend off his 'attacker' as Cas continued to attempt to pin him down.
''Dean,''he repeated, calmer this time, hoping the panic he felt hadn't bled into his voice as he yet again recalled the events that had occurred just hours ago. Dean, it's over.
It's over.
''Cas.'' He choked out, fumbling for the switch on the lamp that stood on his bedside. Cas removed his firm grip from Dean's wrists once he was sure he wouldn't try to attack him again, flicking the light on. Dean trembled visibly beneath him. Now that the lights were on, Cas noticed the tears brimming in his eyes that threatened to spill over.
Cas shushed him softly, carding his fingers instinctvely through his hair, though worry nagged at him like a sore thumb. ''You're okay, Dean. You're safe.''
Cas wondered what the definition of okay and safe even were for a Winchester. They had been fighting evil their whole lives, getting screwed over by Fate every chance the bitch got. And just hours ago, Dean had been a demon and tried to bash his brother's skull in. How in hell were they okay? They were never okay.
''Ikilledyou...''Dean whimpered, unconciously pulling Cas closer towards him. ''I...I killed you. And Sam.''
''No.'' Cas took Dean's face gently, so gently, in his palms and laid a chaste, comforting kiss on top of the hunter's forehead. He was highly aware of him stiffening beneath his lips, but Cas didn't pull away. If Dean wouldn't care for himself, Cas would do it for him. ''No, you didn't. You're safe, Dean.''
He felt Dean slowly, very slowly, begin to relax. That was when Cas rapidly became aware that he was straddling the hunter beneath him.
He cleared his throat, one of the many human tendencies he had picked up from his time on Earth, and slowly began to stand up. ''My apologies, De-''
Dean grabbed for his wrist, preventing him from moving farther. ''Don't,'' he whispered, so quietly in would have gone completely unheard if Cas wasn't paying the upmost attention to him.
''Don't what?"
''...Don't leave me.''
Cas never understood the term heartbroken. He knew humans tended to use it when they had 'broken up' with their significant partner, or had been put under serious emotional distress, but had never understood why it was referred to as that. Until that horrible day when Metatron had sneered in his face, Dean Winchester is dead.
But now...Three simple words. Three words that shattered his heart into pieces...But then, it always was three words when it came down to Dean.
Don't leave me.
Cursed or not.
He's dead, too.
I need you.
- I love you.
''Never,''Cas whispered out like a prayer. Glancing at Dean for permission(who gave the slightest incline of his head), he laid himself back down onto the mattress so he was face-to-face with him. Dean stared back at him, green, endless endless green that you could drown in. The angel leaned forward very tentatively, watching those beautiful emerald orbs for the smallest hint of doubt or unwant. He found none.
And then they met.
There were no explosions. No fireworks. No jolt of electricity running through his entire being as though he had been shocked. It just...was. Their tongues danced together, lips colliding, meshing together as though they were one. When they finally fell apart, Dean's flushed cheeks were tracked with tears, eyes a pit of endless misery.
''How...?How can you still stand to be near me?"he whispered, voice cracking as he swallowed down a sob. ''You know what I've done, I've hurt people! Hurt you. I'm poison, Cas, don't you get it? You've lost everything that you've ever known, because of me. And I'm so selfish, that I keep dragging you back to me. Because I know, you're the only one that won't leave me, unlike every other goddamn thing I care about. Even if I know, deep down- I'm killing you, Cas. Why can't you see it like I do? Why don't you leave me, just like everyone else? Save yourself, before it's too late."
''Because you need me,''Cas answered simply, blinking away his own tears. He hated that this beautiful, flawless being could see himself as so low. To Castiel, he was everything. To himself, he was nothing.''And I you.''
''You...you don't need me, Cas. I'm the last thing anyone needs.'' Dean's voice was raw with emotion.
''You're the only thing I will ever need, Dean Winchester. Because I-''
Dean realized what he was about to say. ''Stop.''
''-love-'' Stopitstopitstopit.
''Please...''Please, I can't bear to hear those words come off your lips. Not for me.
''You.'' Just like everyone else. Everyone who ends up dead.
Poison.
Dean barked out a half laugh half sob, turning his face away. ''You're an idiot.'' I love you, Castiel. But I can't bare to see you die because of me.
Cas didn't reply. Instead, he stood from where he lay, making his way to the doorway. Even without looking at him, Dean felt the loss of connection from the angel like a punch to the gut. All at once, he regretted nothing more than what he had just said.
Please don't leave me.
''Get some sleep, Dean,''he said emotionlessly, expression hidden in the darkness. By the time that Dean looked up, the angel was gone.
Dean didn't call him back. He sat there unmovingly for quite some time before laying back down, staring at the blank ceiling until his eyes burned, mind blank all except for the consistent throb of the Mark on his forearm and the lingering taste of an angel on his lips.
Because in the end, he had gotten his wish. Castiel had left him.
Just like everyone else.