Usually, while they were at work and apart, Cas and Dean would find the time to text each other. Sometimes the conversations were long, sometimes fleeting. Most of the time silly. Today, however, what had started off as silly, ranging from Cas jokingly messaging Dean to “sEnD nOoDz” to what they each had for lunch that day, had broached a more serious topic, and Cas couldn’t pinpoint exactly when that had happened or what text it was that had sent them down this dark road, full of deep and mysterious things (at least to Cas). Life. Dean’s life, to be more specific. He was a different Cas from a different universe, yes, but until a certain point was reached and separated them, their timelines had been a single one, all the same events had happened, all the same plans had been hatched. Cas couldn’t help but feel like Dean’s life was his life, too.
During their discussion, Cas had learned that while he (other him) had survived for a while, eventually he had willingly laid his life down for Dean. His reaction to himself had been a non-reaction, he felt he always knew that if and when it came down to it, he would willingly sacrifice his life for Dean. He had in his own timeline, he was sure that future him would have thought no differently, done nothing differently than made sure the man that he treasured lived to breathe another day. It was the events that predated Cas’ death and culminated in Dean’s demise that bothered - bothered was a tame word - him.
Cas knew that he should have sat down a long time ago and just watched what was documented, but there was a huge, huge part of him that didn’t want to know. Now he had part of the story, and it made him sick, but now that that door was opened he needed the rest. Maybe not tonight or this week, but eventually.
He decided that he was going to leave work early to be at home with Dean, hopefully not too long after he got there from patrols. So he told his manager he felt ill (he kind of did), went and bought the whiskey Dean had asked for and a couple of pizzas flew himself home. Cas went straight to Dean’s room (sort of their room now?) and with just a short knock to announce himself, opened the door slowly and walked in. “Hello Dean,” he said as he closed the door with his foot and moved to sit the pizza and whiskey on the table closest to the door. “All the meats, and the sauce is the only vegetable on there at all.”
After mentioning the one time that Cas couldn't find him, all sorts of questions had been raised, and for some reason, he told Cas everything, freely. He wasn't sure why he had been so open about everything, but it had felt good. Cas had said he would come home early and Dean couldn't help but feel a little guilty about that. It was all stuff that had happened in the past, but he had never really talked about it. He consistently stuffed it all down, never wanting to appear weak in any sort. He could have always talked with Sam, but he didn't want to put that weight on him. Dean was the older of the two and he was supposed to be the strong one that Sammy could always depend on.
He didn't blame anything on Cas, he had been used like a pawn the same way. Chuck was a fucking dick head who had been pulling the strings on every decision they made. For the entirety of his life, he had been played. He lost both of his parents, he had to grow up fast to take care of Sam. He never got to stay anywhere for too long and John had held him to the highest standards. Standards that he then placed upon himself.
He had been stretched out, laying on the bed when Cas walked in, but he quickly sprung to his feet to greet the other man. "I didn't even think about food, for once," Dean stated with a smile and pressed a simple kiss to Cas' lips. "Thank you." He wasted no time in grabbing a box and then moving to sit back down on the bed. "How was work?"
“After we talked, I didn’t think you would.” Cas slid out of his sandals and left them lined up under the table. It was still a little startling for Dean to greet him with a kiss, but he wasn’t complaining. Not at all. It even managed to erase what he had been thinking, the way he felt, before he came in here. But the thought was fleeting. He assumed that regardless of how stoic Dean seemed, he wasn’t as okay as he showed people. He needed to talk, Cas wanted him to talk, because earlier everything seemed to just spew forth from Dean like a dam had broken, and knowing him, he had never really taken the time before to say any of those things to anyone and it was all building up inside of him. Cas needed to hear it. Aside from the entire feeling of being too cowardly to find out, watching it felt a little impersonal, and a little like he was prying in Dean and Sam’s lives.
“Work was work, I used the pricing gun to scan barcodes and I put stuff on a shelf. And apparently ate a bad lunch.” Cas nudged Dean’s shoulder and smiled over at him as he sat down on the bed next to him and without preamble flipped the lid on the pizza box back. Steam billowed almost invisible from the pie, carrying waves of the delicious pizza fragrance to their noses with it and Cas’ stomach growled in response. Cas reached into the box and pulled up the first slice, offering it to Dean. “How were patrols?” he asked, taking the second slice up and taking a bite. “Or were you at home tonight?”
“I was out during the day, trying to avoid those damn bugs, but they just seem to be all over the fucking place.” Dean had been through a lot in the past forty years, and he conquered it all, head-on. Countless obstacles were thrown his way, along with so much death and bloodshed. Yet, he continued to fight. However, when it came to insects, he really wanted to avoid them as much as possible. It reminded him of the one case he and his brother had worked on years ago, after Sam had just started hunting again. It was incredibly creepy, and something he never wanted to encounter again.
He was sure that at some point, Cas would want to know more about the things he had already told him. He would tell him willingly, though he would make sure to keep a firm hold on his emotions.
“I bet you that pricing gun is a good fucking time. Maybe you should bring one home so I can price everything in the bunker.” Dean laughed at the thought, but he wasn’t completely serious about it. It did seem like one could have fun, though it would probably get old fast. He took the offered slice of pizza from Cas and looked at him curiously. “Did they just pull this right out of the oven or something?” he questioned, before taking a hearty bite.
“It was magic,” Cas said in response to the fresh from the oven hot pizza. He, personally, wasn’t a fan of cold pizza, and ever since he had started getting his powers back (when he wasn’t agonizing over his worthiness to have them, that is) he was using them on things he never would have before. It beat using a microwave, which still continuously laughed at him, or waiting for the oven to heat it back up. He closed the lid loosely, knowing that no matter what they did or how long they left it, it would still be hot until they put, or what was left of it, in the fridge later.
“We have to figure out some way to take care of the bugs, if for nothing else than to cut down on that incessant chirping.” He never thought he would say that or anything disparaging about an insect, any insect, for any reason, however, these bugs were turbocharged and demon sized and they needed to go. There had to be a way to find some kind of relief aside from wishing yourself deaf. He had patrols tomorrow, maybe being submerged in the bastards would inspire someone to have an idea.
He took a bite of his own slice and leaned back against the headboard, stretching his legs out in front of him. “I could arrange to leave the pricing gun in my vest pocket since you’re into that. And there is some very high-priced merchandise, too.” Cas teased, going along with the humor he recognized in Dean’s tone. He hated to bust that up by asking questions about what Dean was saying to him via text. Maybe it had been easier for him to talk that way, not so personal as face to face. Cas would go and sit in another room and let Dean text him everything he had never said before if he couldn’t say it like this.
“So,” he began slowly, reaching out with his free hand to rub his fingers on the small of Dean’s back as a comforting gesture. “What we were talking about earlier. Do you feel like going into that anymore or do you want to collect the hugs I owe you and talk about it another time?”
“In Vallo, nothing seems to last forever.” While they were very much a disturbance, Dean was sure that at some point they would be gone. They had been through so many different things over the past year and unlike the buildings, everything vanished eventually. It wasn’t their first occurrence with giant bugs, but Dean was grateful that this time it was only cicadas that had grown in size.
“Magic, huh?” It was a little strange with Castiel being human, yet possessing certain powers that had returned. Not that it bothered him. He kept forgetting that Cas could do things, simply because he wasn’t wearing his usual suit and trench coat. “I wish Cas had been around more so he could magically heat up my pizza.” Dean joked playfully, bumping Cas’ arm with his elbow. “If you bring the pricing gun home, maybe you could knock Sam out long enough for me to put price tags all over his face.” While he was a little over forty at this point, Dean still acted like a child from time to time.
When he felt the hand against his back, he knew what would come next, and he wasn’t sure how to respond. He took another bite of pizza and chewed slowly, thinking it over in his head. He had already pulled some of the trauma up, so why not the whole damn thing? “What do you want to know, exactly? I mean, there’s a lot of shit to pull up, so if I have a general idea of something, that would be a little helpful.”
Cas nodded.”We can only hope the cicadas are one of those things.” He knew that that was a double-edged sword for Dean, what he had said about nothing lasting forever in Vallo. That was the only thing that Cas knew that he couldn’t try to fix and had no control over, as much as he wanted to. The little bit of control he felt he had gained back when he came here didn’t extend to that, and he hated it.
“Well, you have one Cas here now, so if you ever find yourself with cold or lukewarm food, just - say my name and I’ll come running.” And he would. He said it playfully, but he would come whenever Dean called, for whatever reason, and he would help if he could in any way he could. He was totally gone for this man. “I can do that. You know, anything to annoy Sam.” He grinned. Sam was fun to annoy simply because of the faces he made when he was annoyed.
Cas took another bite of his pizza and chewed slowly, thoughtfully as Dean spoke. He had said a lot earlier, and it wasn’t like Cas wanted to dredge it back up and make him relive it all, but - he said a lot of things, he mentioned a lot, it seemed like he wanted to talk. “Earlier you were telling me a lot of things. That you had become a demon was one. Chuck - Chuck being God another. And - I’m not even sure where to start asking you things, maybe - maybe start with the demon. How did you become a demon because I only know of one way, and yet - what brought you there, and brought you back?”
Dean didn’t think he would ever call on Cas for something so trivial, but maybe one day the situation would arise. “Then we will definitely have to play with the gun. He’ll be so confused and it will be absolutely fucking hilarious.” He was already grinning over the mere thought of it and he would have to somehow hold his laughter back. But, that was a concern for another time. He finished off his slice of pizza and grabbed a tissue from the bedside table to wipe over his mouth.
“Okay, well, let me start by saying this; you are probably going to have at least five more questions when I go through it all. So…” Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath, moving to let both hands rest against his lap. Instead of turning to look at Cas while he spoke, Dean left his head facing forward towards the door. For some reason, it was a little easier to speak freely without making eye contact.
“The whole demon thing started with Abbadon, a knight of hell. She managed to travel forward in time, searching for-” he paused briefly, reaching up to scratch over his jaw. He was trying to tell the story as best he could, but one thing was connected to multiple other details. “I’ll rewind back a little more. There is a secret society of hunters known as the Men of Letters, and the bunker we’re in was their safe haven. It was built way back in the day, early nineteen-thirties, so, at the time, this place was way more technologically advanced than it appears now. It turns out that hunting has been in our blood since day one, with mom and her family being hunters, along with the Winchesters being legacies in the organization. There’s a ton of shit filed away, if you ever want to delve a little deeper.”
Fuck. This story was still incredibly complicated, and part of him wanted to direct Cas to watch the show, but he was trying to be a little more open about things. “So, the Men of Letters had captured a demon named Abbadon and she ended up possessing a female member of the society, and then it all went to shit. “She escapes and travels forward in time, in search of my grandfather, Henry Winchester. More shit happens and we realize that we don’t have enough power to take her out, which is not good because she’s wreaking havoc all over. The only thing that could kill her was the first blade, which was left in the possession of Cain, as in Cain and Abel. In order to wield the blade you needed to have the mark of Cain, and I took that on so I could kill Abbadon. I eventually kill her, but then I get killed by Metatron, who you probably know of. Only, while having the mark on me, I can’t die. Everyone aside from Crowley thinks I’m dead and I wake up in my bed as a demon.”
Cas understood why Dean didn’t look at him while he talked, sometimes he felt like that too, that it just made it easier to say things you wouldn’t normally say. He wondered if Dean had ever said some of these things out loud. He listened quietly, taking in the words Dean said, only making small gasps a few times as the story unfolded. His fingers continued rubbing their gentle circles into Dean’s back, a slight increase of the area he covered, just letting him know that he was there, he was listening, and to go on how he needed to. When Dean was finished, Cas put his feet to the floor and remained quiet.
Dean was right, except he didn’t have five questions, he had twenty-five, but he wasn’t going to ask a lot of them, as he could probably find out some answers if he just looked. He wanted to know the things that were personal to Dean and whatever he asked would stay close to that.
“So it wasn’t the ‘usual’ torture that corrupted your soul and made it demon, it was the Mark,” he glanced at Dean’s arms, already knowing he would find them bare but he couldn’t seem to help himself. “Metatron, the scribe of God, killed you while you were a mark bearer, and the death wouldn’t take” Crowley was that demon he had heard about before all hell had broken loose in his timeline, so he didn’t really need too many explanations on anyone named.
“And clearly you’re not a demon anymore. What happened to change that?”
“Oh, right, I forgot about that part. I kind of went off the deep end and I did some things I’m not proud of. Sam refused to give up on me and tried to cure me by injecting me with blessed blood. I didn’t want to be fixed, I just wanted to be left alone to do whatever the fuck I wanted to. But, obviously, that didn’t happen. Sam tied me to a chair in a devil’s trap and it really fucking hurt. At some point, I managed to break free and I went after him with a hammer.” Dean’s voice softened a little, and he dropped his gaze to his hands.
“It was you, Cas. You’re the one who saved me.” He inhaled a deep breath and lifted his head, both hands rubbing over his face. “I still had the mark, which meant I was still bloodthirsty. I almost killed you, Cas.” He turned his head now to look over at the other man, curious about what he was thinking. “I killed a lot of people who didn’t deserve to die.”
“You were a demon, Dean, those people -” Cas offered him a small smile and a slight tilt of his head. “What you were thinking and doing - none of that was your fault. It was in your nature at the time. But Sam - he knew the real you, I know the real you, and that’s why you were saved. That’s why no one gave you up for lost.” He reached forward for Dean’s hand. Dean’s life - just the very little he had heard so far, seemed to have gone off the rails, one crazy thing behind the other. It was a lot to his credit that Dean wasn’t screaming down the walls of the Bunker on a daily basis. He sounded like he had definitely earned that small comfort. But here he was, sitting on his bed looking all calm, cool and collected, and telling Cas about the life Cas had missed out on when their timelines had diverged.
“Do you want to go on?”
“It was still me, Cas. I wasn’t possessed like everyone else, that was all me.” Dean countered firmly, shaking his head. He allowed Cas to take his hand and he gave it a slight squeeze before speaking again.
“I killed Death and released the Darkness, also known as Amara, God’s sister. It was bad, there was this...I don’t even know, some kind of weird virus that was infecting everyone in the town because of the darkness being released and so many people died. She also went around eating the souls of random people, leaving them soulless and without a care in the world. She and I were connected, so she never tried to hurt me, but I was powerless to stop her. Eventually, she got what she wanted, her meeting with her brother, which I helped to facilitate. So, in exchange, she gave me-” His eyes closed and he squeezed the other man’s hand, while a single tear slid down his face. “I got my mom back, only it wasn’t the reunion I had been hoping for.”
He released Cas’ hand and stood from the bed to pour himself a glass of whiskey, and one for Cas. “Do you have any idea how many people have died because of the choices I made?” Dean took a slow sip from his glass, turning towards Cas. “It was just one thing after another. It never seemed to stop or slow down for us.”
“I know it was still you inherently, but the mark, it seems to have an adverse effect on people that wear it. It was told around Heaven, that Lucifer was the most gentle of the archangels before he wore it. We were told the mark was his first prison, his first punishment.” Cas hadn’t been positive that Lucifer had worn it for the reason he had before hearing this, it was just a rumor, one of several started long before he came along. Same with the Amara rumor. She had been nothing more to him than what amounts to a scary bedtime story that kept the angels in line. Don’t go against the archangels, they don’t play around. All of this was beyond interesting to him, but he was also positive that as interesting as it seemed from his point of view, not an ounce of it seemed that way to Dean, or to anyone else who lived through it. He wished he could take that away from Dean or at least some of the pain his life had caused.
Honestly, all of what he was hearing was leaving him faint and nauseous, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with any of it. But he needed to hear it, not only because of the reasons he had already listed, and because it did involve him - or a version of him - but because of the still-new relationship that he and Dean were building. He wanted to know everything about Dean. This Dean.
“You can’t save everybody, Dean,” he said, knowing that Dean had probably heard that a million times from a million different people. “You did what you could. You made decisions that you had to. You shouldn’t hold things against yourself. You’re a real-life hero, you know? You didn’t have to do what you did, but you sacrificed and you did it. Not selfishly or because you expected something back. That’s all that matters.” Cas got up from the bed and swiped his thumb over Dean’s cheek and kissed him lightly and tenderly. “And you’re still doing it here, making a difference. To Sam, to DJ, to me. “ Cas didn’t expect his words to make Dean suddenly cheer up, but he wanted Dean to know that he was in his corner, no matter what. He would always be.
“Do you want to talk about your mom now or a lot of nothing special?”
"You can't save everybody," Dean snorted, shaking his head. "If I had a grave, I think that would be the perfect inscription. I lost count of how many times I heard that." Did he want to talk about Mary? No, not really. A hero. He wasn't even close to being a hero. "But, I did, Cas. It was all laid out to tell the imperfect story of the Winchesters."
There was so much that Cas didn't know, and he was about to tell him how things had gone when he said yes to Michael, but that wasn't something he was ready for. "Let's just move on for now." He stated with a sigh, shoulders slumped as he finished off his glass of whiskey and poured himself another. "I'm not sure if I already said it, but thanks for the pizza." Dean leaned towards Cas and rested his head on his shoulder. "Thanks for all of it."
“Ever think that all of those other people are right?” Cas knew that Dean would probably always have those issues with himself and every little thing he did that hardly anyone even noticed, but Cas couldn’t change that. He wanted to, he wanted Dean to be completely happy with himself, but there would always be some piece of Dean that would always hold himself to a higher standard, judge himself harsher, than anyone alive would ever think to.
“Moving on is fine. I love that you trust me enough to share everything that you have with me tonight.” He finally picked up the glass that Dean had poured for him and drained the whiskey as Dean leaned into him. He wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist and moved closer to him, enveloping him in a warm hug. “You don’t have to thank me for anything. I like it when you let me take care of you for a change.”
"It's not what my dad would have said." Honestly, he still wasn't completely sure why he had opened up to Cas, but that wasn't important. He would never lean on Sam like this. "Of course, I trust you." Dean reached over to set his glass down and melted into the embrace. He never did this, allowed someone to just hold him like this.
"You don't have to take care of me, it's fine." He buried his face in Castiel's shoulder, holding onto him tightly, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to spill at any second. What was this shit? Why the fuck was he even crying now? He had been about to pull away, but instead, he let out a loud sob and clung to Cas, his fists clenching the other man's shirt.
Your dad was wrong “Your dad was fighting his own demons, I think he expected a lot from you because of that.” Cas hadn’t known John personally, only what the Dean he had known before had told him, but he felt confident enough to say that much, and like he hadn’t overstepped an invisible line because Dean had become soft and pliant in his arms, and Cas became overwhelmed with his emotions for him at that moment.
“I like taking care of you, Dean. Not because I think you’re helpless or anything like that, I just - want to do what I can, when I can. You’re so selfless and so good, and you should be treated like you matter too, because you do.” Cas didn’t comment on the sob or the tears, he only clung to Dean harder, sliding a hand over his back, willing to hold him for as long as he wanted or needed it.
Now that was something that Dean would not deny. His father had definitely placed the highest of expectations on him, expectations he struggled to meet just to make his father proud. Even though his father was gone, Dean had continued to place the same expectations on himself. He was the older brother who needed to take care of Sammy, and not the other way around.
There was a part of him that felt terrified for needing this so much, but he was tired of running. He simply nodded his head in response, while still holding on to Cas. It was rare that he allowed himself to be so vulnerable, but he knew that Cas could handle it. That the weight he unloaded wouldn't take the other man down. He had been taking care of everyone his entire life, even at the early age of three, when his mother would be upset after a fight with his father ended with him slamming the door on the way out of the house. Dean had been there for her, giving her a hug and telling her it would be okay.
"I don't even know if I can let go, Cas." He admitted softly, his face still buried.
“If you do let go, I’ve got you. You’ll have a soft place to land.” Cas dropped a few soft kisses to Dean’s neck, not interrupting or obnoxious or seeking more than just the contact, just tiny signs of his affection. Small reassurances that he was both soft and strong, and if Dean wanted it, if he needed it, he could always count on Cas to be enough to hold him.
Cas walked them back to the bed, and dropping down onto it he pulled Dean with him, cradling him between his legs and urging him with his hands to get comfortable. He wasn’t sure how Dean would react if he would jump up and move away because this had been so much, so many large leaps had been taken for him to show that much vulnerability. But Cas wasn’t going anywhere, and he wanted Dean to really feel that.
Could he really jump and take a leap of faith with Cas? The angel had always been there for him in the past, though they had gone through a few ups and downs. He knew that Cas would never let him fall and walk away, but Dean was still hesitant. Admitting that you needed someone else seemed weak, yet at the same time it wasn’t. He blinked repeatedly, allowing the tears to spill free from his lashes.
While he allowed himself to be pulled in by Cas on the bed, he still remained a little stiff, trying to figure it out in his head. Slowly, he found himself loosening up against the other man, and he shifted to rest his head upon Castiel’s chest. It felt awkward and strange, but he didn’t want to let go of Cas, and decided he would take that leap now. “I trust you,” he whispered, his hand moving to rub up and down Cas’ arm.