The Shattered Man - TranquilGuardian (2024)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

I was absolutely hauling ass. Away from what, I wasn’t sure, but the sound of it barreling through the trees behind me told me that it was one big son of a bitch. Small branches and thorns bit into my cheeks and exposed arms as I pushed my way through the thicket, but I didn’t feel any pain. I was too focused on not turning into lunch. Not ending up monster chow had kind of become the daily agenda. I tightened my grip on the handle of the spear in my hand, prepared to turn and fight whatever was chasing me once I passed the upcoming bend in the trees. I’d memorized this clearing; it would give me the advantage I needed. Leading whatever boogeyman was chasing me there was the easy part. My time here was permanently etched into my brain. After several weeks of going in circles, things became easier to decipher. I’d noticed the differences in the shape of the fallen logs, the rock formations, the bark on the trees. I was a regular Boy Scout. I knew I couldn’t run forever, and I didn’t intend to; I just needed some space. Some room to move if things went sideways. The dry leaves crunched under my boots and my eyes narrowed as I started to round the turn, and the creature behind me snarled loudly. It was definitely getting closer, and evidently was not fond of fast food.

I cleared the last tree and dug my boots into the mud, preparing to spin and face whatever asshole had it out for me, when someone grabbed my arm from the tree line. I lunged at them on reflex, and Castiel easily knocked the spear out of my hands as he stepped into my path. He grabbed both of my shoulders to look me dead in the eyes. “Wake up.”

“What?” I demanded, picking the spear back up quickly and peering past him into the darkness. I grabbed his coat and tried to move him to my side, but he wouldn’t budge. My relief with seeing him alive and my adrenaline from the impending fight had mixed into anger. “Where the hell have you been, man, I thought you were dead!” I noted that he was clean shaven and his clothing, which had been tattered and beyond filthy the last time I’d seen him, was pristine. What the hell?

He stood in my path urgently, blocking me from whatever stirred in the trees just beyond my line of sight. “Wake up, Dean,” he repeated sternly. His lips were pressed into a hard line. “We aren’t in Purgatory anymore. I need you to open your eyes.”

“What the hell are you—” I started impatiently, tugging on his arm again, and he put two fingers to my forehead.

****

I woke with a start in my own bed. I was drenched in sweat and Sam was standing over me, looking worried. My light was on. “Dude. Are you okay? I knocked on your door like ten times, I’ve been shaking you.”

I groaned, blinking against the light and rubbing my eyes before slowly sitting up. My head was pounding. “Yeah. I’m fine. Nightmare, I guess.”

Sam looked doubtful. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Nope,” I said without hesitation, wiping my damp forehead with the back of my hand. I could feel my shirt sticking to my back. “What time is it?”

“It’s 11. I, uh..I found us a case, I think. I wanted you to come take a look at it.” He jabbed his thumb back in the general direction of the library.

I nodded, blinking the last of the sleep out of my eyes. “Yeah, give me a minute. I’ll be out.” I yawned massively, waving him off.

“Okay, yeah. Sure,” Sam replied, nodding. He gave me one last skeptical look before walking out, pulling the door closed behind him.

I swung my legs over the edge of my bed, yawning again and running a hand through my hair. Truthfully, I’d been having a lot of nightmares lately. Most of them about Purgatory, some about Hell. But they all ended the same—with Castiel appearing out of nowhere and telling me to wake my ass up. They were so realistic that I never knew they were dreams until I was conscious, and Cas hadn’t exactly been around for me to ask about them. He was pouting. Again.

I knew he was okay, because he answered Sam’s calls and texts, and he regularly checked in with us that way as well. But he wouldn’t speak to me. We’d had an argument about three weeks before, and he’d said it was best if he distanced himself from the bunker if I was going to be “irresponsible and reckless”. That’s what he had called it when, nearly drunk, I’d brought Marie home from a local bar. He was right that I wasn’t thinking, and that it wasn’t safe to show people where we lived. But for him to throw such a fit about it was blowing things out of proportion. Marie was just a small town barfly, and even in my drunken state I’d been smart enough to mumble “Christo” before I had her in the Impala. (Don’t drink and drive, kids.)

“You can’t just bring random humans here, Dean!” he’d dragged me aside and said angrily, after Marie had run (almost literally) into him the next morning. Castiel had reacted by shoving her against the wall and pulling his angel blade on her, which led to a really awkward conversation with my one night stand that my friend Cas was a paranoid schizophrenic who had mistaken her as a threat.

Since that day, he’d been MIA. God knows where he’d gone; Heaven, maybe? Doubtful, if it meant having to spend any time around his brothers and sisters. Not to mention I didn’t think they had cell reception. Regardless, with Cas not around to see it, I felt a little less guilty about having Marie back here a few more times. I kept telling myself I’d cut it off, but for some reason I just couldn’t get enough of her. Something about her was downright addicting.

I changed into a semi clean pair of jeans and a fresh shirt and splashed some water from the sink onto my face, making my way towards the kitchen for a cup of coffee and some Tylenol before finding Sam for whatever wild goose chase he no doubt had us going on. Cases had been slim pickings lately, and we’d both been seeing them where there were none as a result.

When I finally joined him at the table in the library, he was already on the phone with someone. “Thanks Sheriff,” he said. “Absolutely. Of course. Someone will be out tomorrow to have a look. Thank you.”

I raised my eyebrows as I sat down across from him, holding my warm mug in both hands and taking a slow sip. The familiar bitter taste of the coffee coated my throat and perked me up somewhat. Maybe it was just a caffeine headache. “What’s that about?” I asked, gesturing to his phone.

“Change of plans. I sent Garth the case I was looking at,” he said. “Jody just called, said the sheriff in the next town over from Sioux Falls, Parker, just found four bodies, drained of blood. He was kinda freaking out, she gave me his number. I told him FBI would come have a look.”

“Vampires,” I sighed. More vampires. It seemed like that was all we dealt with anymore. I missed the excitement of variety. “What was the case you sent Garth?”

“Sounds like a rougarou,” he said absently, shutting his laptop and stowing it in the black carrying case.

I threw my hands up in annoyance. “Dude. You realize how long it’s been since we had that rougarou? Can’t Garth take the nest?”

Sam frowned. “That’s way too many vamps. In case you hadn’t noticed, Dean, there’s one Garth and three of us.”

“Three? Is Cas coming?” I asked, meeting his eyes. I didn’t like the way I sounded excited at that prospect. If the dude wanted to ignore me, let him. This wouldn’t be the first time he’d vanished on me. But it never hurt any less when he did it, as much as I’d deny ever thinking that.

“No,” Sam said. He hesitated for a second. “He did call this morning, though. Sends us his best.”

Sends us his best. f*ck my four unanswered phone calls, then. “So Bobby?” I asked doubtfully. It wasn’t that I doubted his abilities, not ever. But since he’d recovered from his headshot at Dick Roman’s place, he’d been kind of reclusive and was semi-retired. Not that I blamed him. He almost hadn’t come out of that one. He didn’t let the wheelchair stop him, but the chronic migraines were no joke. I realized with a twinge of sadness that Bobby wasn’t getting any younger.

“No. Jack,” Sam replied quietly, as if he was afraid Jack would hear from wherever he was lurking today. “I want him back on board with us.”

“No,” I said flatly, setting my coffee mug down.

“Look, I know you sidelined him after he hurt that guy, but it was an accident. Now that he’s getting a handle on his powers, I think he’d really be helpful. We don’t know how many we’re dealing with.”

“No,” I repeated. “Look, the kid’s a liability on hunts. I like him, Sammy, I do. But he’s still learning how to control his mojo. He needs more time.” After he hurt that guy? He had murdered him, plain and simple. I knew it had been an accident, and that he wasn’t aiming for him, but sending someone innocent’s skull into a metal pole with your Jedi archangel telekinesis crap wasn’t something you could just apologize for and move on from.

Sam sighed, standing from the table. “Fine. I’ll tell him we’re heading out. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to hear we need him to ‘guard the bunker’ again. He knows he’s really just grounded.”

“He’ll be fine,” I said, standing as well. “I paid the Netflix bill, he’s got plenty to keep him company. I’m gonna pack a lunch. I’ll be ready in 20.”

****

The trip to South Dakota from Lebanon was only about five and a half hours, but the long stretches of empty highway felt like double that. I was running on fumes after having nightmares several nights in a row, and the interstate became hypnotizing around 3 hours in. I only realized I was veering out of my lane when the rumble strips hit the tires and I jerked the wheel back to the right a little too hard.

Sam woke with a yelp after his head bounced off the window, staring at me. “Do you want me to drive?” he groaned, rubbing his neck.

“No, I’m fine,” I scowled, cracking a window to let some cool air in. I turned the radio up and took a deep breath, and glanced over at him as he continued to watch me.

He narrowed his eyes, turning the radio back down. “Pull off at the next exit.”

I was too tired to fight him, and once I found an exit advertising gas stations I did turn off. Sam and I both hopped out to pee, and I realized it was one of those sleazy bathrooms where you had to ask for a key and go around to the back.

“Go ahead and fill up, I’ll go in and get it,” I sighed.

Sam nodded, and I heard the bell above my head as I pushed the door of the dingy little gas station open. A layer of dust coated everything, and the floor was uncomfortably sticky. An older guy with a beer gut sat behind what looked like a thick pane of bullet proof glass, and he was picking his teeth in the reflection of his pocket knife.

“Hey, I, uh…need the key to the bathroom,” I said, pointing lamely outside.

The guy—his name tag read 'Irv’—glanced out at the Impala and Sam, then back at me. “Need some help holdin’ it?” He grinned, raising his eyebrows, and held a key attached to a wooden baton through the hole in the glass.

“What?” I demanded, mouth dropping open indignantly.

“Do you need some help holdin’ it?” he repeated, as if my hearing had been the problem. “Never had a complaint. Or is Ole’ Boy out there gonna hold it for ya?”

“I—no, he’s my—what the hell, man? I’m not gay,” I said angrily. It wouldn’t have been so bad if this was the first time it had happened, but strangers had been assuming Sam and I were a gay couple for the better half of fifteen years, and it made my skin crawl.

“That’s what they say,” he chuckled. A raspy, rattled sound. “Hasn’t stopped anybody before.” He grinned wider, showing yellow teeth with several gaps where the rest should be. “Ain’t nobody with a pretty mouth like that truly straight.” He glanced at my hand. “And no wedding ring?”

My fingers flew to my lips automatically, horrified. I didn’t even know how to reply to that, so I snatched the baton from him and stormed back out, narrowly avoiding running into a display by the door.

“Everything okay?” Sam asked, seeing my expression as I stalked past the car towards the restroom.

“Oh, just great,” I said sarcastically.“But you’re giving the key back to Irv the Perv in there.”

I was very careful not to touch anything while in the bathroom and even flushed with my boot, but I still couldn’t shake the creeps as I passed the key off to Sam when I came out. I settled into the passenger seat to wait for him, pulling down the passenger side mirror and staring at my mouth. How the f*ck did a mouth look gay? Did my mouth look gay?

I watched Sam exit the bathroom and enter the gas station to return the key, and when he came out he was laughing to himself. He sat down in the driver seat and pushed the lever back to give himself more leg room. “Irv the Perv sounds about right,” he said, shaking his head.

I glared at him. “Not sh*t funny about it,” I spat.

Sam laughed again, pulling away from the pump and back out on to the exit. “On my way out he told me he was sad to see me go but it would be…” His lips twitched. “Downright org*smic to watch me leave.”

I reached for the door handle. “I’m gonna go fight him,” I said flatly.

Sam rolled his eyes. “And catch a hate crime charge? Go to sleep, grouch. You need it. When you wake up, we should be at our motel.”

“He hate crimed me!” I snapped, frowning. I crossed my arms and settled down into my seat in resignation, and put my head against the cool window to close my eyes. I didn’t know what vibes I gave off that made all the creepy old men in the world think I wanted to f*ck them, but it was frustrating and unsettling, and only got worse with age. I liked women. Just women…

****

I was running again. I was chasing something, and it was clearly not happy about that fact. I caught a glimpse of yellow eyes and white sharp teeth as the moonlight hit it. Werewolf. The knife in my hand was not made of silver, but rather the sharpened jaw of another monster I had killed, so I knew I had no other choice but to take its head off. The werewolf stopped in its tracks and faced me, snarling, and I smiled grimly as I stepped forward to it.

“Come and get it, ugly,” I said.

“Dean, wake up,” a voice from behind me insisted, and I turned to swing. Castiel immediately knocked the knife from my grip like he’d done this a thousand times.

“Cas, you’re alive?!” I said in shock. I wanted to hug him, but the werewolf in front of me kept my attention as it circled closer. “I thought you were dead!”

“Wake up,” Cas repeated, grabbing me and pinning my wrists as I tried to shake him off. He placed a hand on my forehead.

****

“Dean!” Sam said loudly, and I opened my eyes. We’d pulled over, and I realized he was holding both of my hands down with his own. I was soaked.

“What?” I demanded groggily, yanking my hands away from him self consciously.

“You tried to open the damn door, man! I don’t know if you’re sleep walking now or what, but you just about threw yourself out of the car!”

“Really? Huh,” I said, frowning. Sam was still staring at me, and I raised both hands. “I’m fine now. I’m awake.”

“You scared me,” he said softly, running a hand through his hair. “You unbuckled and before I realized you were still asleep you had a hand on the door handle.”

“I’m fine, dude, really,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “Just sleep deprived.” That was an understatement. He had no idea how little restful sleep I’d actually been getting lately; it was a wonder I was able to keep my eyes open at all. “How much longer until Parker?”

“About twenty minutes,” Sam sighed, finally settling back in his seat and taking the car out of park. He looked at me pointedly. “Buckle.”

I looked down and realized I really was unbuckled, and I slowly clicked the seatbelt in confusion. What I had been doing in my dream? Getting ready to lunge towards a werewolf..and then Cas was there, again.

I pulled out my phone as Sam pulled back off the side of the road and opened Cas’s contact. ‘Hey, can you call me? Important question,’ I texted. It was the latest in a string of unanswered texts from him, but maybe this one would pique his interest.

We finally made it to the small town of Parker and found a motel to stay in for the night. We hung our Fed suits on the room’s provided hangers so they wouldn’t be wrinkled the next day, and Sam sat down on the bed next to mine just long enough to search up fast food restaurants in the area.

“Hey, there’s a Biggerson’s about two miles down the road. Want me to pick us something up?”

“Yeah, I’m starved,” I said. I realized as I said it how true it was. I hadn’t eaten in hours.

Sam stood and grabbed the keys and his wallet off the desk by the door, and the second he closed it behind him I pulled my phone back out of my pocket.

Cas hadn’t replied. I tried to call him, and after two rings I got his voicemail. “This is my voicemail. Make your voice…a mail.”

If I hadn’t been so irritated at his ignoring me, I would’ve smiled at that. “Cas. Call me,” I said, sighing and hitting the end button.

I laid back on my pillow, prepared to try another approach. “Cas, if you’re listening…it’s me. I need you to talk to me, man. I’ve got questions about some dreams I’ve been having and I…well, I miss you, damn it. I don’t know. Quit staying away. Please come home.”

My phone buzzed, and I sat up quickly to check it, only to realize it was Marie from the bar.

‘Hey, I stopped by but only Jack was there. He said you went on a road trip with Sam? Miss you :(’

I blinked in surprise. Sure we’d talked a few times since that first night and hooked up some more, but it wasn’t like she was my girlfriend or anything. I didn’t do girlfriends. Not since Lisa.

‘You stopped by?’ I texted back.

I saw the three bubbles as she typed, and then a reply. ‘Well yeah, silly. I missed you. When will you be back?’

I didn’t know how to reply to that. Marie was nice, sure, and gorgeous, but nothing longterm was coming out of it. In fact, she needed to be on her way pretty shortly to avoid any danger. She couldn’t just be showing up at the bunker. If anyone connected her to us, it would spell big trouble for her.

‘Couple days, maybe. I’ll text you when I’m back in town, okay?’

‘Deal :),’ she replied.

I put my phone on my nightstand with a sigh. She could text me, but my best friend of ten years couldn’t?

I tried praying to Cas for a few more minutes, even giving him the name of our motel and city in case he wanted to pop in, but no such luck. What was his deal? It was pissing me off. “f*ck you, man,” I finally muttered, opening my eyes and sitting up.

As I did, Sam came through the door with our food, and I had a nice and greasy distraction from my irritation.

****

The morning came too fast. I didn’t have any nightmares that I could remember, which was a pleasant change of pace, and by 9 a.m. Sammy and I were dressed in our monkey suits and talking to the local police (Agents Osbourne and Butler at your service). Once we got to see the bodies, it was clear that we were definitely dealing with vampire attacks.

I pulled my phone out of the inside pocket of my suit jacket once the coroner had left us alone in the morgue. I opened Castiel’s text thread and frowned when my message from the night before still said ‘delivered’. Cas hadn’t been taught how to turn off read receipts, which meant he genuinely hadn’t even cared enough to open it.

The sliding platform the first victim’s body was on slid back into the cooler with a loud jarring noise, and I looked up from my phone with a start. Sam was staring at me in exasperation.

“Really?” he asked, nodding to my phone. “I know vamp cases aren’t exciting anymore, but you could at least pretend to care about the loss of human life.”

“I do care,” I said defensively, pocketing my phone in embarrassment. I came to help him slide the second victim back into the shelving unit.

“Texting Marie?” he guessed as he moved on to the third body. I winced at this one. She’d been a minor, probably only 15.

“No, Cas,” I said, glowering at him. I passed him and walked to the forth platform and pushed it back into the cooler firmly before removing my latex gloves with a snap.

“He’s still ignoring you?” Sam asked, removing his own gloves and heading to the sink to wash his hands.

“Yeah.”

“Think he’s jealous?” he teased as he moved to the side so I could wash mine.

I stopped for a second, swallowing hard. I knew Castiel wasn’t jealous. He was pissed I was putting everyone at risk. The way his eyes had flashed at me in anger the last time I saw him still put a knot in my stomach. I tried not to care, I really did, but it bugged me more than I let on that he was upset with me. I missed having him around. Hearing his voice. Sneaking looks at him, a small voice in my head added, and I scowled. I put a lid on that thought, shoving it far down just as I had every similarly themed thought since the incident when I was twelve. I was straight, and Cas was family. Nobody was sneaking looks at sh*t.

“Dean?” Sam asked pointedly, looking at me like I was crazy. I’d been standing there with the water running in silence for probably far too long.

I cleared my throat loudly and pumped soap into my hand, shooting him a glare. “No, he’s not jealous. Quit being gross.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “How is that gross?”

“Insinuating he’s into me is gross.”

“It’s not,” Sam said, raising one eyebrow. “Dean, you didn’t call Charlie gross. Or Claire. And anyway, it was a joke.”

“It’s different when it’s chicks,” I grumbled. “Just drop it dude. It’s Cas.”

Sam raised both hands in surrender. “Sorry. No harm intended. Are you ready to go?”

I grunted a nod, shoving my hands deep in my pockets as we exited the morgue. Sam thanked the coroners for us on our way out and gave them a card, and I stalked ahead to the car. Irv the Perv’s comment from the day before resurfaced in my mind and I quickly glanced at my lips in the rearview mirror like they gave away some dirty secret.

f*ck that. There was no dirty secret.

The ride back to the motel was mostly spent in silence as I stared out the window, purposefully shutting down the invitation of conversation. I only spoke when we pulled into the gravel parking lot of our temporary home. “Has Jody called yet?” I asked. She and Claire had decided to join us; they were going to scope some places out and see if there was any evidence of a nest in any of the abandoned buildings around the area where the four bodies had been found. If not, we’d have to do it the old-fashioned way and hang out there as bait, an idea which I was not super fond of.

“Not yet,” Sam said, checking his phone reflexively. “She’s on duty today, so it may have been hard for her to slip out of county. I’ll give her a few more hours then I’ll call.”

I nodded and prepared to get out of the car, and Sam put a hand on my wrist. “Hey. I’m sorry if I like…hit a nerve back there or something. Really.”

I frowned. “Nah. It’s fine.”

“Promise?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, Sam.”

“You know you can like…tell me anything, right? Not to be all ‘chick flick moment’, but that’s what I’m here for.”

“What are you saying?” I asked sharply, panic rising in my chest as I worked to maintain a neutral expression. The thought that Sam may think I liked men had me nauseous.

“I don’t know, you’ve just been…off. If there’s ever anything on your mind, ya know. We can talk.”

“Noted,” I said shortly, standing and getting out of the car. I heard Sam sigh before he followed me inside.

****

At about three, Jody phoned to tell us that she and Claire had a pretty good idea of where the vamp nest was hiding out. She’d sent over directions to an old shipping yard, and at nightfall the four of us planned to meet there and take care of it. It was going to be a milk run.

I spent the afternoon napping—I couldn’t believe how tired I was—and Sam sat on his bed sharpening our machetes and making sure they were all in “working order”, whatever the hell that meant. He FaceTimed Eileen to let her know what our plan was and promised that yes, we’d be careful. The smile in his eyes when he looked at her usually made me inclined to poke fun at them, but today I wasn’t feeling it. I rolled over away from him at one point and closed my eyes, praying in my head that Cas would come visit us or at least talk to me so I could apologize. I must’ve fallen asleep praying, and when I woke up it was still just the two of us in the room.

The sun was dipping low into the trees by this point, and Sam called Jody to tell her we were on our way to the shipping yard before plugging his phone back in on the charger and nodding that he was ready.

The drive was short, but trying to be stealthy made it much longer. I tapped my fingers impatiently on the wheel as we crept along back roads with our headlights off. I was ready to go in and get this over with. Maybe grab a beer with Jody after and catch up.

We pulled up beside her cruiser where she and Claire stood, already armed and ready to go. Claire was bouncing on her toes, excited that Jody had finally let her come along on a case again. I mean, the kid had more than proven herself, she deserved it.

I grinned at them and climbed out, hugging both of them quickly.

“Good to see you, Dean,” Jody said softly, squeezing me tight. She stretched up on her toes to hug Sam next. “You boys being good?”

“Always,” Sam smiled, and Jody laughed.

“Alright, now I know you’re lying.”

“Nah, Jody, we’re angels,” I winked, making her roll her eyes.

“That doesn’t help your case.”

Claire cleared her throat, clearly ready to cut the pleasantries and get moving. “They should be right up the stairs once we go in, first door on the left,” she whispered, sparing a quick glance up at the building. “When we scoped the place out earlier, there were lots of people in sleeping bags. And the windows were covered by big black blankets. We didn’t get too close, since it was just us.”

“And you’re sure we’re not attacking a camp of homeless people,” I said doubtfully.

“Homeless people don’t have chains hanging from the ceiling and dried blood on the floor,” Claire snapped back. “Nobody was on the chains, though. Which means they’ve been getting fast food, explaining the drained bodies.”

I nodded, unsheathing my machete and taking the first steps towards the building. Claire was smart, she wouldn’t say she was sure if she wasn’t. “Well alright then. Let’s go gank some bloodsuckers.”

The four of us crept through the main entrance to the old factory, flinching as the door creaked impossibly loud in the silence. We paused for a minute to make sure no one had heard us before continuing up the stairs. I glanced at the others outside of the door Claire had indicated before giving a silent countdown from three with my fingers, and on one Sam kicked the door in.

Immediately, five vampires had jumped up from where they’d been seated on the floor, hissing ferally. “Save it, Twilight,” I said, rolling my eyes at the one nearest me and swinging my machete. No point wasting time with small talk. His head hit the floor with a sickening thud and his body buckled, and then everything else was too fast to really recall.

I saw my friends wrestling the vampires. I saw each one hit the floor in record time. But I hadn’t realized that only four bodies were on the ground when Claire’s machete was ripped from her hand and spun at me by one pissed off female vamp. All I registered was a slicing hot wet heat across my stomach. The sound was…mushy, like dropping a rotting cantaloupe. It wasn’t right. With an angry cry, Sam beheaded the vampire that watched me smugly as I swayed on my feet, my ears ringing. I noticed my vision was darkening at the edges and I reached out wordlessly, confused as to what was going on. Claire and Jody screamed. And then I hit my knees.

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

Sam’s POV:

My mind refused to accept what had just happened. My eyes couldn’t fathom that the heap of gore on the ground was my brother. The vampire had sliced his abdomen wide open, hip to hip, and immediately a huge portion of his intestines fell from the wound. Wound? It was a massacre. He was on his knees, looking as if he were in shock, and I saw his hands move to try and push his guts back in automatically. His face was white as paper and a sheen of sweat covered his skin. The fact that he was still alive seemed impossible.

I was frozen for what felt like a lifetime but was really probably only a fraction of a second before I ran to his side, unsure where to put my hands. As I knelt, I slipped and slid on the puddle of blood around him. I didn’t know how to help. I didn’t know how there was any coming back from this. Dean silently attempted to push his intestines in again, looking dazed. I turned my face away, desperately trying to pull myself together enough to be of use.

Claire was crying, standing in the corner with a hand over her mouth, looking like she was trying hard not to throw up. “Call 911!” I barked at her, meeting Dean’s glassy eyes. “Dean, hey, hey. I’m right here. It’s alright, you’re gonna be okay. We’re calling an ambulance, they’re gonna fix you up.” But I knew as I said it that he wasn’t going to make it that long. The metallic smell of blood in the air was thick and heavy as Dean stared ahead wordlessly. Blindly. I noticed numbly that he was also soaked in urine, and I couldn’t tell if his bladder had been damaged or if his body was already shutting down.

I looked up at Jody with tears in my eyes, silently asking her what I was supposed to do, and she jumped into action as Claire was on the phone with the operator.

She knelt at Dean’s other side, putting one hand behind his head and one hand gently against his shoulder. “Let’s lay back, honey,” she said in a trembling voice. We slowly coaxed Dean on to his back so that gravity would hopefully hold what remained of his guts in place, and I stripped my flannel off to hold against the wound. I was surprised that I wasn’t dry heaving as I frantically tried to put his insides back into the jagged hole, but my brain was on survival mode even as tears streamed down my face.

Dean didn’t flinch, which meant he definitely was in shock, but he held my hand as I pressed down onto his stomach and talked to him. “Hey, hang on, okay? They’re almost here. You’re gonna be okay.”

“It’s..okay, Sammy,” he finally managed, blood on his lips. He patted my hand. “I’ve had worse.”

“Y-you’re right, you have,” I agreed, making sure he stayed flat so he didn’t realize just how bad it really was. We had both been injured in hunts. Hell, we’d been killed in them (and brought back to life). But there had never been anything like this. Not without divine intervention. This was fatal.

“They’re going to be at least 15 minutes, they said they’d get here as fast as they could,” Claire whimpered through gritted teeth, her hand over the speaker on the phone. I could tell she was trying to be strong.

I cursed under my breath. We didn’t have fifteen minutes. We didn’t have five.

“Just gonna…take a quick nap,” Dean murmured, closing his eyes. “Eyes are tired.”

“No, I need you to stay awake,” I said urgently. I patted his cheek roughly, and more blood dribbled from his mouth when I did. He coughed, a wet sound, and I had to press down on his abdomen tightly as a fresh warm gush of blood washed over my hands.

Cas. We had to get ahold of Cas. I reached for my phone automatically, and my breath caught when I remembered that I’d plugged it in before leaving the motel.

Instead, I fished into Dean’s front pocket, pulling the blood-soaked phone out. Thankfully, the screen still lit up. I wiped it impatiently against the thigh of my jeans so that I could see, still trying to hold pressure on Dean’s stomach with my other hand.

Your passcode is required to unlock iPhone.

“Dean, hey, I need your phone’s code. What’s the passcode?” I asked quickly, shaking his arm.

He looked at me in confusion, like he didn’t understand what I was saying.

“I need to get into your phone so I can call Cas, okay? I need you to tell me your passcode.” I tried to keep my voice gentle, but time was running out and I needed him to listen to me.

“Cas,” Dean murmured. A slight smile ghosted his lips at the name, and more blood dribbled from his mouth.

“Yeah, Cas,” I said, my breath catching on a sob. “Can you tell me your code, Dean? So I can get Cas.”

Dean didn’t speak again; he continued to stare at me in silence. Each inhale seemed to be taking more and more of a toll on him.

“Dean!” I cried angrily, waving the phone in his face, and Jody reached across him to catch my wrist.

“Honey, he can’t tell you. Let him save his energy,” she whispered. She used her sleeve to wipe the blood from Dean’s nose and mouth, but more came leaking out with every gurgling breath. She shakily stood from where she’d been kneeling by his side, her jaw trembling. “I’ll—I’ll hide the bodies before the ambulance gets here,” she said. “They can be burned later. All the blood can easily pass as his.”

I watched her grab the legs of one of the vampires and haul it from the room, and I bowed my head in desperation. Castiel had never truly listened for my prayers; that had usually been a strictly Dean thing. But it was all I had right now, as my phone was back at the motel and I had been too f*cking stupid to memorize his number. “Cas, if you can hear me, we need you. We need you now. Dean’s hurt bad, please get here. Please!”

The floodgates opened as I felt Dean’s grip on my hand start to loosen, and I pushed tighter against his stomach. The blood had stopped flowing so heavily, but I had a bad feeling it was because there wasn’t much left to lose. I sobbed over my brother, unable to be strong for him and cursing myself because of it. Cursing Castiel for not listening. Cursing Dean for not letting us bring Jack.

All I smelled was blood and urine, all I heard was my brother’s strained and gargled breathing, and all I saw was his ashen forehead knead into a frown as his eyes fell closed again. I prayed he wasn’t in pain. At least grant him that much. Keep his body in shock, don’t let him feel pain…

“Dean!” a strangled cry of despair erupted above me and there stood Castiel, wearing an expression of terror. His cry had been choked, as if for a split second he’d tried to hold his emotions in check and failed miserably. Tears began flowing freely down his face and it hit me numbly that I’d never seen him cry.

“Help him!” I commanded brokenly, and Cas dropped to his knees behind Dean’s head. He caught him under the armpits and pulled him up slightly into his lap. He felt for a pulse in his neck for a split second before placing a hand on Dean’s stomach, over my hand, and a soft golden light emanated from his skin. Jody and Claire watched in the corner, holding each other.

I was trembling so hard I don’t know how my teeth weren’t chattering as I felt the angelic power move from Cas, through me, and into Dean, but I couldn’t pull away. I watched in awe as the bloody mound that was my shirt covering his intestines started to lower until it was flush with his body, and Dean took a deep gasping breath as his eyes opened wide.

I let out a sob of relief and Castiel made a noise that sounded suspiciously the same. As Dean’s head rested against his thighs, I watched him gaze down on him with nothing but pure exhausted joy.

“Hey, hey, buddy,” I said softly, sniffling, as Dean looked around in confusion and then grabbed his stomach as if he’d just remembered what had happened. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re all here. You’re good now.”

He looked up then and realized he was lying across Castiel and scrambled to his feet, Cas standing with him immediately, before swaying and falling right back into the angel’s arms. Cas ignored the blood that Dean’s skin and clothes drenched him in, holding him in a firm embrace as his legs sagged.

“Dean?” I asked worriedly as my fatigued brother struggled to stay on his feet.

“He’s all right,” Castiel said, keeping an arm secure around Dean’s shoulders and pulling Dean’s arm around his waist. His head lolled somewhat into the crook of Cas’s neck. “His injuries were healed. He’s lost a lot of blood so he’s confused and weak, but he will be just fine.” I could hear the relief in his voice, and I knew he was telling the truth.

“Guys, there’s an ambulance on the way,” Claire blurted, not being insensitive but knowing that we couldn’t be here when it arrived.

“Cas,” Dean somewhat slurred, looking over at Cas.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said gently with a small sad smile, gesturing for me to take Dean under the other arm. “We need to get him out of here before the ambulance shows up and there is evidence of massacre with no injury,” he said.

I nodded and quickly got on his other side to heave his arm up around me.

Jody pulled one of the thick black blankets from the window, giving it a good shake, and I looked at her questioningly. “He’ll kill us when he’s more himself if we let him sit in the interior of the car like that,” she explained with a tight tired smile.

I nodded gratefully at her. He really would; she knew him well. Jody and Claire trailed quietly behind us as we maneuvered Dean down the stairs and out of the warehouse.

I could tell he was trying to make his feet work to help us, but it was still mostly a slow drag and I had to stop and readjust my grip a few times. I was glad we had Castiel’s angel strength.

“Cas,” Dean said again with a frown as we pulled him towards the Impala, turning his face up towards him.

“I’m right here, Dean,” he replied gruffly, and without missing a beat scooped him effortlessly into his arms to place him in the passenger seat.

“Wait—put me the hell down, I think I pissed my pants,” Dean demanded, sounding slightly more lucid, and Castiel laughed quietly as he waited for Jody to spread the blanket across the interior. He released him into the seat gently and leaned over him to buckle the seatbelt, and Dean scrambled for purchase across his trench coat and arms as if Cas were his life preserver.

“I need to be going,” Cas told me softly, looking down at Dean before back at me. “I promise you he will be okay. I’ll call in the morning and check in. If you need me in the meantime, my phone is on.”

I stared at him in shock. “We haven’t seen you in a month, and you’re already leaving us again?”

Castiel placed a hand on my shoulder but didn’t respond. His eyes begged me to understand.

“Cas…don’t go,” Dean said, trying to sit up before realizing he was already buckled in. He grunted in frustration and struggled with the seatbelt for a second, reaching an arm out weakly. “Please.”

Castiel pressed his lips together and turned towards Claire and Jody, nodding in turn to each of them and then to me. There was a flap of wings, and he was gone.

****

Dean’s POV:

When I opened my eyes, I was back at the bunker in my bed. I wasn’t sure how I got there, but my clothes had been changed and I was under the blankets. I smelled like stale piss and blood.

The events from earlier were fuzzy, but I knew it hadn’t been good. I immediately reached under my shirt and felt my stomach. Smooth. “What the hell?” I groaned, and then I remembered that Castiel had been there. Cas must’ve healed me. I stood up slowly, testing my legs out, and I felt fine. I lifted my shirt again for good measure in the mirror. Not even a scratch.

“Huh,” I said out loud, and made my way down the hall to the big table in our study. Jack and Sam were both sitting there, and they looked up at me in surprise. Sam was on the phone.

“How are you feeling, Dean?” Jack asked earnestly.

“Great, considering a few hours ago I was No Guts, no Glory,” I replied, shaking my head. I turned to Sam. “Who’re you talking to?”

“Cas,” he mouthed, and I instantly felt myself get pissed when I remembered that Cas had shown up just long enough to fix me and then dipped again. I held my hand out for the phone.

“Hey, Dean wants to t—” Sam started, but stopped in surprise. “Oh. Okay. Yeah, take care. Talk to you soon.” He looked up at me with a frown. “He said he had to go.”

“Oh what the hell!” I said loudly. This was such bullsh*t!

Sam handed me my phone, which was sitting on the table. “Here, someone’s been blowing you up. I think it’s your girlfriend,” he smiled.

“One, not my girlfriend,” I said, picking the phone up. “Two, how are you? I’m sure that sh*t looked pretty traumatic from an outside point of view.”

“It was…bad,” Sam admitted, grimacing. “Really bad. I thought you were a goner, Dean. Claire’s taking it really hard.”

“Claire? Why?” I asked blankly.

“It was her machete that got snatched. From what we gathered, the first vamp you killed was probably the mate of the one who attacked you. That’s why she went after you when she got ahold of it and not just Claire.”

“Well, I’m fine now,” I said gruffly. “There’s no reason for her to blame herself. Sammy, I need you to give it to me straight, did Cas carry me?”

Sam laughed out loud at that, a tired smile spreading across his face. “Only for a second.”

I scowled, eyeing the cup of coffee in front of him. “Have you been up this whole time? Go to bed, man.”

“I was checking on you,” he replied quietly. “I know Cas said you’d be fine and I should’ve trusted him, but you were so out of it. Jack and I could hardly get you to your room. You were able to help dress yourself, but barely.”

I crossed my arms self consciously. I didn’t remember any of that. “Well, I feel fine now. Go to bed. You too, kid.”

Jack and Sam exchanged looks before standing with a nod. “I’m really glad you’re okay,” Jack said shyly, smiling at me. “I would hug you, but…” he trailed off in embarrassment and I winced. I knew I stunk.

“Thanks, Jack,” I replied. I watched him mosey back down the hall towards his bedroom, clearly exhausted.

Sam clapped me on the shoulder before heading towards his own bedroom, and I finally looked down at my phone with a sigh. I had three missed texts from Marie, wanting to know if she could come over.

My stomach churned as I realized that the person I really wanted to come over was ignoring my calls. I remembered opening my eyes and Castiel’s face being the first I’d seen. I remembered, through the brain fog, that he’d been crying. He’d thought he was too late. I remembered being embarrassed as I’d realized my head was in his lap and trying to jump up. And I remembered the security I felt when he wrapped his arms around me to steady me.

“Shut the hell up,” I told myself harshly. Cas was off limits and I was straight. These thoughts were downright embarrassing, especially because I knew Cas could sense when something was wrong with me.

I figured it was easier to call Marie back than text her, and I hit her contact with a sigh. I didn’t like that it felt like I was using her as a distraction from the company I really wanted.

“Dean?” she sounded excited when she picked up the phone.

“Hey,” I said, allowing myself a smile. At least someone was happy to hear from me.

“Hey,” she repeated breathlessly. “Do you care if I stop by? I know it’s early, but Sam said you guys made it back and I need you.” She purred the last three words, and I felt a stirring in my groin.

“I’ll unlock the door,” I said back, hearing my own voice take on a flirty edge. I knew I was a dumb ass and needed to cut this off. And quite frankly I wasn’t even romantically attached to her, but God it was nice to have someone to share your bed with.

“See you soon,” she giggled, and the phone clicked.

I grinned, heading to my room to grab clothes for a quick shower. I was grateful Sam had managed to get me into clean clothes but I desperately needed a hose down.

I grabbed a pair of gray sweatpants and a t-shirt and walked through the bunker and up the stairs to the bathroom. As I threw my clothes and towel over the top of one of the stalls, (the only bad thing about living here) I checked my phone one last time for a message from Cas before sighing and placing it on the counter.

I watched the water go from rust to copper to finally clear at my feet and regretfully turned the faucet off. I wrapped a towel around my waist and scrubbed my hair with a second one before drying off and changing into the clean clothes.

I was headed back to unlock the door when Marie texted me that she was there, and I doubled my stride with a smile. I bounded up the metal stairs to the entrance and threw the door open, and there she stood, all 5’10 of her. She was tall, which I wasn’t used to, and mouth wateringly curvy, but I was very appreciative of her long legs and soft hips just the same.

“Hey there,” she said, leaning into me, and I let my hands trail down her back to take hold of her perfect ass.

“Hey yourself,” I said under my breath, lips at her ear.

“Hello!” Jack called from the bottom of the stairs, waving.

I jumped back guiltily like a teenager caught by his parents. “What the hell, Jack?” I said in annoyance. “I told you to go to bed.”

“I forgot my book,” he said, pointing at the copy of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe on the war room table as if it was obvious. “And then I saw your friend was back. Hi Marie!”

Marie laughed, waving down at him. “Hi, Jack,” she said.

“Look man, can you move it along?” I said pointedly, scowling in exasperation.

“Are you going to have the sex?” Jack asked, in the same curious tone as if he were asking me my favorite ice cream flavor.

“Jack, now!” I warned, feeling the heat in my cheeks as Marie laughed again.

“I’m sorry Dean,” Jack frowned. He looked genuinely upset that he’d irritated me. He walked out of the room quickly after grabbing his book, which was an improvement from the way he usually just disappeared when he was upset. Not sure I could’ve explained that one away.

“Sorry about that,” I mumbled. Some days I wished I had my own place.

“It’s okay,” Marie giggled, taking my hand. “Your friend, Jack. Is he special?”

“Something like that,” I replied, scooping her off her feet as we made our way down the stairs.

She squealed in delight, nuzzling into my neck, and I had a sudden jarring image of what it had felt like being in Castiel’s arms only hours before. I nearly missed the last step and swallowed hard.

“Are you okay?” she asked, stopping her parade of kisses down my neck.

I recovered quickly, nipping at her ear. “Would you believe me if I said I was nervous?”

“Never,” she replied, and her mouth was on mine.

We blindly made our way to my bedroom, and my hands were everywhere. Holding as much of her as I could, hoping somewhat spitefully that Cas could feel some of what I was feeling, and know that I was just fine without him there. That my “irresponsible and reckless” actions had done nothing but bring me a hot girl and that he needed to get the stick out of his ass. I knew that the angelic burn he’d left on my skin when he pulled me out of Hell had given us some sort of weird profound connection. I knew that when I was really happy, or stressed, or scared, Cas could feel it if he was close enough. And I hoped he was getting a brain full.

“Dean,” Marie gasped out as I lowered her onto my sheets, hovering over top of her and kissing down her body. Her neck, her collarbone, her chest.

“Mmhmm?” I answered, tugging the hem of her shirt up and motioning that she should raise her arms.

“I’m so glad I met you,” she whispered, shimmying out of her shirt and unclasping her bra.

I instantly felt the heat in my groin as her breasts spilled out, and I took one in my mouth as I moved my other hand down to slide under the waistband of her skirt. My fingers met soft sparse hair and I hummed in appreciation. No panties.

“I’m glad I met you,” I growled back against her skin. I glanced up at her as I sucked slightly on her nipple, watching her eyes close in pleasure as I rubbed circles gently in the warm spot between her legs. She was already soaked, and my co*ck throbbed in need.

I kissed her, reaching down to free myself from my sweatpants, and I felt her hand snake down between our bodies to help me out. She reached for the hem of my t shirt, and I clasped both of her wrists in my free hand and made a chiding noise. She knew my shirt stayed on during sex. What she didn’t know was why. A burn on my shoulder in the shape of a human hand would be an uncomfortable talking point.

I lifted her skirt and kissed my way down her stomach, sucking the inside of her thighs greedily. I felt her fingers lace in my hair and I smirked as I grabbed her legs and scooted her down to my face. The cry that left her lips when my tongue dipped into her was music. One thing I was proud of was my oral skills. What could I say? I was a giver. I held her firmly around the thighs as she squirmed and moaned, savoring the taste of her. Her legs quivered and tried to close around my ears, and I easily held them open. She was impossibly sweet. Damn near made me not want to come up for air.

She sucked in a breath suddenly and pushed against my head, and I raised my face to look at her questioningly. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair fanned out on the pillow around her, but her eyes were dark. “Dean, f*ck me.”

I licked my lips and crawled back up her body. She didn’t have to tell me twice. I rolled so that she was on top of me and reached over to my nightstand where I had a condom ready. I tore the package with my teeth, refusing to take both hands off of her amazing breasts, and I closed my eyes in pleasure as she rolled it down over my dick and gave it a gentle squeeze. It was hard not to grind up into her grip.

I positioned her hips over mine, letting her slowly sink down onto me in her own time. We both moaned out together at the sensation as she bottomed out and her hips met mine. She began rutting her pelvis against me, putting both hands on my chest for leverage. It felt good, but without her actually bouncing up and down, I knew she was just using my body to get herself off. And I was alright with it. Seeing the furrow in her brow as she bit her lip, feeling her thighs shake as she ground her cl*t against the base of my co*ck.

I watched in awe as she raised my left hand to her mouth and languidly began sucking on the two middle fingers, and that shot a whole flurry of new sensations through me. I splayed my index and pinky fingers across her cheeks as she swirled her tongue over and between the two in her mouth. “f*ck, Marie,” I hissed. Where had this woman been all my life? And why did that feel so damn good?

She continued to push her cl*t against me, hissing profanities. One thing I’d learned quickly about Marie was that she liked to talk dirty in bed. Today was no exception, and I was somewhat worried her voice would carry as she pleasured herself on my dick. I could feel her tighten as she got close, and I pulled my fingers from her wet mouth with a pop and hitched them against the beautiful thick thighs straddling my hips to meet her thrust for thrust.

“f*ck, Dean, f*ck!” she cried, her fingernails digging into my chest where she still used me as support. I rubbed a hand soothingly down one of her arms as she shook. I let her ride her wave, and only moved once her grip on me had loosened somewhat and her muscles had stopped clenching so tightly around me.

I abruptly flipped us so that I was on top, and put both of her legs on my shoulders as she was still shaking. “My turn,” I growled, nipping her ear. I began pushing into her in a fast hard rhythm, watching her eyes roll back from stimulation. It didn’t take long. I moaned out softly and wrapped both arms around her legs as I filled the condom, letting her milk every last drop from me. I leaned down and gently kissed her forehead before pulling out.

I collapsed next to her and tied off the mess, throwing it in the trash can. Marie snuggled into my chest, kissing my cheek. “You were great, like always,” she gushed. “Let’s nap?”

I blinked, slowly wrapping my arm around her. Having sex with her always felt like a whirlwind. It was fast, and rough, and then it was done and she wanted to go to sleep. Except I’d been sleeping for hours and wasn’t the least bit tired this time.

“Please go to sleep with me,” she purred, and put her head over my heart. I absently began playing with her hair, resting my chin on the top of her head, and within minutes I felt her breathing even out. A sense of calm washed over me at the steady sound, and I yawned against my will. No, I wasn’t tired, but maybe I could rest my eyes for a minute…

****

I was shackled at both wrists and ankles, and Alastair chuckled sleazily as he approached me with his favorite serrated blade. “Look who came back for more fun,” he murmured, raising one eyebrow and running the blade lightly down my left bicep.

I clenched my teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction that he wanted. “f*ck off.”

“We can do that next if you’d like,” he drawled, placing the flat of the blade under my chin to raise it. “If you really insist. Maybe with this?”

I spat at him, tugging roughly at the cuffs, but it was no use. I was spread eagled like a frog being readied for dissection.

He raised one of his dirty fingernails to my chest, running it through the hair there and chuckling. He clicked his tongue in disapproval. “What do the kids say these days, Dean? Spitters are quitters?”

Suddenly, he was gone and in his place stood Castiel. “Damn it Dean, wake up,” he said impatiently, approaching the rack and grabbing my face in his hands. Before I had time to react, I was standing back in my own room, butt ass naked, at my sink with my razor pressed to my wrist. And I was awake.

I threw the razor down into the sink in disgust and shock, turning around. Marie was gone, but she’d left a note on my nightstand. “You look so peaceful when you sleep. See you soon. xo”

I looked at the clock, it was almost nine a.m. My legs were shaking at the realization that I’d almost just offed myself, and I steadied myself on the edges of the sink. Something bad was happening.

Chapter 3

Chapter Text

I dressed quickly and stomped down the hallway, pounding insistently on Sam’s bedroom door. “Family meeting, now!” I bellowed, walking a few doors down and giving Jack’s several hard raps as well. Something had to give; these were no longer my run of the mill nightmares.

Before I had turned back up the hall, Sam was standing in his doorway in only a pair of shorts, half of his hair smashed flat to his head and the other half sticking out comically. He was holding a revolver. “What, what’s wrong?” he demanded, scanning the area quickly.

I pointed the business end of the gun away from me and slid past him. “Put the gun down, Rambo, we just need to talk.”

As I spoke, Jack’s door swung open hard against the hinges and his eyes were glowing golden as he held a palm out, ready to obliterate whatever had me yelling this early in the morning.

“Damn, watch where you’re pointing that thing!” I yelped, stepping out of his way and gesturing for him to put his arm down frantically. Last time that bolt of energy had hit me, he’d damn near thrown me through a wall, and my poor body couldn’t handle much more of that sh*t.

His eyes slowly faded back to blue, and he looked at me in confusion. It was almost comical how quickly his boyish face could go from terrifying ender of worlds to wide eyed baby chipmunk. “Dean, what’s going on?” he asked in concern.

“What part of ‘family meeting’ don’t you guys understand?” I scowled, walking past them as Sam sighed and lowered his gun.

“Let me put a shirt on,” he mumbled.

****

“So…you’re having nightmares…and Cas saves you in them?” Sam asked, looking confused. His expression said he was trying really hard to take me seriously but couldn’t. “That’s the news? I’m not trying to be dismissive, but he does save our asses a lot. Maybe your brain is just filling in the logical solution, ya know?”

“No, asshole, my news is that this morning when I woke up from the dream, I was standing at my sink with a razor to my wrist, about to go all 13 Reasons Why,” I said in annoyance.

Sam’s expression sobered up quickly. “Oh,” he said softly. He paused a moment, thinking. “And you tried to throw yourself out of the car a couple days ago during one…What have you been dreaming of, Dean?”

“Purgatory. And Hell,” I said flatly. “And without fail, every damn time, Castiel appears telling me to wake up. The dreams feel so real…I never know they’re not until I’m awake again, soaked to the bone in sweat. I guess the most recent symptom involves trying to shuffle my ass right off the mortal plane.”

“Okay. We need to get Cas on the phone,” Sam said, picking his phone up immediately. “If it’s that consistent, maybe he’s actually…well, in your dreams.”

“Good luck. He ignores me every time I pray or call,” I said sourly, recalling how I’d been sent to voicemail the last seven times I’d reached out.

Sam dialed Cas’s number and hit speaker, and to my shock and rage he answered on the first ring. “Sam. Is everything okay? Is Dean okay?”

“You bitch!” I said into the phone, feeling my blood pressure rise. He’d been caught redhanded.

There was a long beat of silence and for a second, I thought maybe he had hung up. “Hello, Dean. It sounds like you’re feeling better,” he finally said.

I opened my mouth to spew another insult, and Sam held a hand up in exasperation. “Cas, we really need to talk to you about something serious. We’d prefer to do it in person. Can you meet us here at the bunker? We—”

There was the sound of flapping wings and Cas materialized in the seat by Jack, at the head of the table. The loose papers sitting near the laptop ruffled. “What’s going on?” he asked seriously. His eyes immediately fell on me, like he was expecting me to fall apart at any moment.

“Long time no see,” I said sarcastically. “So you can swoop in and sew me up or text Sam like you're old girlfriends, but you can’t act like I exist otherwise?”

Castiel frowned. “Dean, can we please argue later if you’re going to insist on doing so? I’m here because you needed me. Isn’t that enough?”

“No,” I glared. I knew I was being petty. He had just saved me, after all. But he wasn’t just my extra life in a video game, he was supposed to be family. I didn’t need a 1-up, I needed him home and acting like we weren’t just some angelic obligation to keep alive. It was reminding me of how he’d been when he first pulled me out of Hell, and it hurt.

Sam interjected. “Cas, Dean’s been having some pretty intense nightmares. Like, can’t wake up, cold sweats intense. And they all end the same. With you.” He leveled a look at him.

Castiel hesitated then looked down. “I know.”

“You do?” I asked incredulously. I couldn’t help it.

Cas nodded slowly. “You know that I can…sense when you’re in distress, as long as I’m within a certain range,” he said. “Your nightmares--they distress you greatly. I’ve been reaching out just long enough to wake you. I’m not intruding on your dreams by any means,” he added quickly, seeing my expression. “It’s just easy to tell when one is getting bad. It’s like...an SOS signal of sorts. I wondered why there’s been so many lately, but truthfully, I would assume it’s some sort of post-traumatic stress catching up with you. You’ve been through a lot, Dean.”

“The last couple have left him in really dangerous positions,” Sam said. “Like trying to get out of the car while it was moving. And…” He swallowed, pain in his face. “Attempting to slice his wrists.”

Cas looked shocked by that, and extremely concerned. He eyed my arms conspicuously and I folded my hands in my lap in embarrassment. “Don’t worry, you woke me up in time,” I said flatly. I was still processing the fact that he’d been inside my head during some of my most vulnerable moments. When Alastair had had me strapped to the rack in Hell, when I’d been primal and bloodthirsty in Purgatory. Cas had really seen all of it.

“I’d like to touch you,” he said, standing. “To be certain that there’s no hex or curse on you. Your anti possession symbol hasn’t faded or been damaged, has it?”

I knew it hadn’t, but I pulled down the neck of my shirt to double check on reflex. “Nope, still good.”

He came to stand behind me and placed both hands on my temples, and I was all too aware of the slight hum of angelic energy that moved between us when we touched. When the person he’d branded was near him. It was pleasant, and the warmth of his hands made me want to close my eyes and lean into them. I swallowed hard. Snap out of it, Dean. Man up.

I watched Sam and Jack for a change in their expression as they monitored Castiel’s, but none came. Cas finally let go of me and returned to his seat with a shake of his head. “There’s no dark magic on you. Nothing neurological either, no brain tumor or any kind of damage. Dean, I say this with the utmost sincerity, have you considered talking to someone?”

I scowled at his insinuation. “Yeah, let me go ahead and tell a doctor that I’m mentally f*cked because I’ve seen hundreds of folks die, killed hundreds more, been to Hell and monster hell, and been resurrected a handful of times. Oh yeah, even clawed my way out of my own grave once. Sure a shrink will love all that.”

“I didn’t mean a psychiatrist,” Castiel said shortly, narrowing his eyes. “I meant a friend.”

“I talk to you guys all the time,” I said defensively, scoffing.

Three pairs of eyes looked back at me doubtfully.

I turned on Cas, irritated. “And anyway, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for weeks to talk about this. And you’re clearly too occupied with whatever the hell you do when you’re not here to answer my calls or prayers. Good thing you heard Sam’s the other night, or we wouldn’t be standing here having this conversation!”

It was a low blow. I knew it was. Cas flinched, like the memory of that night physically pained him.

“Jack,” Sam said quietly, standing from the table. I saw him jerk his head in a motion that said they should give us some space.

Cas’s eyes were tight, and he watched Jack and Sam walk away as if they were his last remaining lifeboat. “I know you don’t understand, Dean,” he said finally. “I can’t expect you to understand.”

“Understand?” I said angrily. “You’re my best friend, man! And then one day you drop off the face of the earth and act like I don’t exist. But God forbid Sam try to get ahold of you, because you always seem to be available right then for him!”

“And you’d better be glad I am, like you so graciously threw in my face, otherwise you’d be dead right now,” Cas growled back, standing.

I stood up too, taken aback that he was losing his temper. “Would it kill you to come around? You’ll rescue me from nightmares but you can’t look me in the eye when you’re sitting across the table from me. What the hell gives?”

Castiel looked like he was choosing his words very carefully, brow furrowed. “It’s…extremely difficult for me to be around while Marie is here,” he managed.

I blinked. “So that’s it? You’re seriously still pissed about Marie? You’re giving me the silent treatment over Marie?”

“You don’t understand, Dean!” he thundered, and I took a step back in surprise. “She doesn’t belong here. You’re putting the bunker and her life in danger by having her here. I won’t…I can’t—” For once in his life, he looked like he was having a hard time finding words. His hands gripped the sides of the table tightly and I watched sawdust crumble from between his fingers.

“Cas…” I said warily, holding a hand up. “Take it easy, buddy. Have a seat. We’ll talk.”

“I can’t talk to you, Dean,” he finally whispered in a broken voice.

With no warning, he was gone, and I was standing alone in front of the deep grooves he’d left in our table.

“Damn it!” I yelled, clenching my jaw. I brought my fist down on the table in frustration. Cas had no idea how bad it hurt for him to refuse to come home. For him to shut me out. He’d been such a central part of my life for so many years, nothing felt normal without him here. And whether he cared to leave me and Sam alone or not, he was also abandoning his own son because he wanted to be petty. Hell, I’d kick Marie to the curb if it meant he’d come back at this point, and it made me angry at him and myself that I was willing to do that. I stormed back down the hall to my room, slamming the door like some moody ass teenager and sitting down hard on my bed. I bowed my head and scowled at the floor. “Hear this prayer, you son of a bitch,” I spat. “If you can’t talk to me, then don’t. Stay out of my dreams. Quit calling Sam to check in on me. Stay the hell away, you hear me? Stay away.” My voice was low in anger, but I didn’t mean the words. The thought of him staying away was almost physically painful to me. I was done begging, though. If he wanted to leave us, then f*ck him. I wasn’t going to sit around blowing his phone up and waiting for him like a pathetic ex-girlfriend.

I don’t know whether hours or minutes had passed before Sam knocked on my door. I didn’t answer him, so he let himself in. “So the talk didn’t go well,” he said, leaning against my doorframe. It wasn’t a question.

“He said he couldn’t talk to me,” I said in disgust.

Sam didn’t look surprised, which made me think he knew something I didn’t.

“What?” I demanded defensively.

“Nothing,” he said. “I just figured you’d already gathered that much, since he’s been ignoring you. It wasn’t my business to pry.”

“Still didn’t feel great to hear it,” I muttered. “I don’t know what his deal is, man. Not liking me having a non-hunter here is one thing, but he’s acting like I murdered his family.” (Never mind the fact that I actually had murdered several members of his family.)

“I don’t know,” Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I can try to talk to him for you, if you want.”

“No,” I said immediately. “I don’t need my little brother fighting my battles. I’m an adult.”

He held up both hands in defeat. “Okay. But Dean, I really think we should be taking shifts to like…observe you while you sleep until we figure out whatever’s going on with your dreams. Maybe keep you in the infirmary? You almost slit your wrists, man. I don’t feel right leaving you alone after that.”

“I’m not going to sit on suicide watch like some crazy person. We’ll cuff me to my bed if you’re worried about it, but I can’t sleep knowing you or Jack are staring at me.” I grimaced at the thought. “What is our plan, anyways? Cas said there’s no dark magic on me. Assuming that means no hex bags, curses, or whatever the hell else witches do for fun.”

“You haven’t pissed off any angels lately either,” Sam said thoughtfully. “Or, well…anyone with any mojo, really. The only difference in your life has been—”

“I swear to God if you come down on Marie too,” I said, holding a hand up. “I’ve tested her. In all the ways I can without straight up giving away what we are. Slipped some holy water into her coffee, she walked right over the Devil’s Trap under the rug, she’s used real silverware. She’s clean. She’s a nice ass girl who likes me, is that so unbelievable? Why am I the one always expected to sacrifice sh*t, Sam?” It was the first time I had said that selfish thought out loud, and after seeing Sam’s expression I was immediately ashamed I did. I’d always made sure he knew that none of the sacrifices I’d ever made in our life were a problem. And Sam and Cas had both made their own fair share of huge ones; Cas had fallen from Heaven for me. Sam had thrown himself into the pit. I wasn’t anything special.

Sam looked at me for a moment in hurt silence, eyes sad.

“I’m sorry,” I finally said lamely, sighing. “I don’t know why I’ve been acting this way. Look, that was a sh*tty thing to say, and it’s not true. Truth is I’m scared, man. And I’m mad at Cas for leaving. And I’m not handling my sh*t very well.”

“I know. Thank you for talking to me,” he replied softly. “Maybe it really is some post-traumatic stress manifesting, Dean. It wouldn’t be too hard to buy some psychotropic meds under the table if we could narrow down a proper diagnosis. Mental health is nothing to be ashamed of after what we’ve been through. It would be impossible not to have lasting effects.”

“You and I both know I would never remember to take pills every day. And I’m not crazy, I’m just stressed. Anyways, I don’t think you’re supposed to drink on those things, and that is simply not an option.” I smirked at the thought.

“You’re not giving me a lot to go on here,” Sam sighed. “You don’t want anyone watching you sleep. You say it’s not your girlfriend. You say it’s not a mental illness. What do you want?”

“I want—” I stopped abruptly, his name on my lips. Cas. I wanted Cas back, and not acting like he couldn’t stand to look at me. I wanted my best friend to lose the stick up his ass and come home. I wanted to be able to see his face every day. “A beer,” I finished lamely, standing. “I want a beer.”

“Normally I’d disapprove of your day drinking, but you deserve this one,” Sam agreed. “Just…take it easy today, okay? We can veg out, watch movies. I’ll hit the lore later and see if maybe we’re missing something. If not, I think we need to have a conversation about medication.”

I glared at him, but stood to follow him from my room. “I’m picking the movie.”

****

Sam’s POV:

“Why does she always fall whenever Hatchetman is close behind her?” Jack asked, tilting his head slightly in confusion.

Dean shushed him as if he hadn’t seen this same gory movie at least 30 times. “Can it, this is the part where he chases them right into the pit of razors,” he said excitedly, almost bouncing in his seat.

I winced, watching as the unlucky would-be heroine and her boyfriend did exactly as Dean had narrated and, in their haste to escape the villain behind them, tripped face first into the rusty blades.

“Hell yeah!” Dean whooped, clapping his hands together. “Hatchetman strikes again!”

I couldn’t help but smile despite his macabre reaction to the onscreen agony. He seemed okay at the moment. Well, okay as anyone who enjoyed watching gory slasher films could be. There was no trace of a man who wanted to end his life or was on the brink of a psychotic episode. He was cross legged on the couch with his hands on his ankles, rocking slightly in eager anticipation of the famous lines we’d all heard him utter a million times.

“Time to slice and dice!” both Dean and the villain proclaimed, and he grinned before stuffing a fistful of popcorn into his mouth.

I smiled at him, standing, and he looked at me accusingly. “Bathroom,” I explained.

He waved me off as if he deemed that an acceptable answer, and I quietly shut the door behind me as I removed my phone from my pocket and dialed Bobby’s number.

“Sam?” Bobby answered, sounding worried. “How is he? Is he—”

“He’s good, uh, physically,” I said quickly. “Cas was right, once he’d gotten some rest, he was back at 100%.” I had filled Bobby in on the near-death experience Dean had gone through at the warehouse, leaving out the bloodiest parts for both of our sakes.

“Then what’s wrong?” Bobby asked suspiciously.

I ducked into my room, shutting the door and sitting down hard on my bed. “I think he has PTSD,” I said in a rush.

Bobby was quiet on the line for a minute and then he sort of chuckled. “Well yeah,” he said. “I’m sure he does. I’m sure you do, too.”

“No Bobby, it’s not like—he’s been having horrible nightmares. Almost nightly, to where he barely has anything left to run on when he’s awake. They’re hard to wake him up from half the time, and Dean has never been a deep sleeper. He starts sweating, and the other day on our way to the vamp case he unbuckled and tried to open the car door and get out.”

“And?” Bobby asked.

“And we were doing 85 on the interstate.”

“Oh,” he replied softy.

“It’s getting worse, and taking a toll on him. He’s irritable, probably from the lack of sleep. This morning he had one and thankfully he woke himself up, but he was standing at his sink with a razor blade. I’m..I’m scared for him.” I didn’t want to imagine the alternative if he hadn’t woken up. It would have been hours before anyone woke up and several more before we thought to check in on him; Dean would have bled out on his bedroom floor.

“This suicidal sh*t…he doing this while he’s awake too?" Bobby asked doubtfully. “Making threats, acting funny?”

“No, only in his sleep,” I replied with a frown.

“I’m not an expert, but that don’t sound like any normal case of PTSD I’ve heard of,” Bobby said. “Could be night terrors if it is, but usually he’d have some sort of other symptoms. You have Cas check him? No dark magic or anything, hexes?”

“Nothing, none of that,” I sighed, rubbing my temples. “He’s clean, as far as we can tell. I don’t know, I know you have that guy that’s been getting you Imitrex for your headaches. Do you think he could find something to try Dean on, low dose? Once I do some more research?”

Bobby sighed. “You talk to Dean about this?”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “He’s…less than thrilled at the idea. But I think I could convince him. Or maybe Castiel could. Or you.”

“You get me your top two choices for what sounds like it would work best for him, and text the names to me. I’ll see what I can do,” Bobby said begrudgingly.

“You’re the best,” I said, feeling a slight weight lift off my shoulders. “Will do. Hey, I gotta go. He thinks I’m in the bathroom.”

Bobby sighed for a second time at the realization that this was all happening behind Dean’s back. “Bye, Sam.”

****

Dean’s POV:

“Soups on!” I said, poking my head around the corner to the study where Jack and Sam were sitting with their heads close together. They were looking at something on Sam’s laptop, murmuring quietly.

Sam jumped guiltily, shutting the computer a little too hard and plastering a smile on his face. “Sounds good! Go ahead and get yours, I’ll grab some in a sec.”

I frowned, raising my eyebrows. “You two watching p*rn?”

Sam’s face actually flushed pink. “What? No. I’m just going through lore.”

“Mm,” I said doubtfully, sauntering up to the table and grabbing the edge of the laptop.

Sam resisted for a minute before meeting Jack’s eyes and sighing. He let go.

I opened the computer and jiggled the cursor to wake it up. What met my eyes was enough to instantly make me forget the barbecue pulled pork in the kitchen.

“Sertraline and paroxetine are the currently approved medications in the United States for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder,” I read aloud flatly. “Son of a bitch. f*cking lore, huh?” I pushed the laptop back at him in disgust. “I’m not crazy. And I’m not taking any goddamn black market pills.”

“It doesn’t mean you’re crazy, Dean,” Sam pleaded. “It means you’ve been through hell. Literally. And it’s not really black market, it would be the pharmacist friend Bobby has that’s been giving him meds for his head. Please try them. For me.”

“No!” I said angrily. I turned on Jack. “And you, you were just gonna sit here and conspire with him? What, crush it up and put it in my drink? When you were worried you were crazy and evil, I had your damn back, man!”

Jack raised his chin defiantly, though it trembled. “We’re worried about you, Dean.”

“Leave Jack out of this,” Sam said firmly, standing from the table. “It wasn’t his idea.”

“What are you gonna do, baby brother?” I snapped, taking a step forward. I knew I wasn’t acting rationally, but the idea that the two of them were going behind my back to drug me pissed me the hell off. They didn’t trust me to know my own mind, and that was one of the most insulting things I could imagine. I thought opening up to Sam earlier had actually meant something to him, but it had apparently only furthered his suspicions.

“Guys,” Jack said anxiously, rising from his own seat.

“I’m trying to stop you from spiraling because you’re clearly so mentally ill you can’t even tell!” Sam yelled at me.

“f*ck you,” I growled, balling my fists. “You mean like you were, seeing Lucifer everywhere?” He flinched, and I knew I’d hit a nerve. “Since you’re so interested in my private life, here’s a fact. After I got out of Hell, I woke up so scared of going back at night that I’d piss the bed. I hear a dog growl, I think of Hellhounds. Any grown man raises his voice at me, I fight the urge to swing because I’m reminded of Dad. I’ve had panic attacks into my pillow at the thought of some of the sh*t I saw in Purgatory. I know mental illness. And this ain’t it!”

“Guys,” Jack whimpered again.

Sam looked taken aback for a second, but he stepped closer, tears in his eyes. “Well maybe if you’d told us any of this sh*t instead of hiding it, we could’ve helped you before you were standing at your sink with a razor blade!”

“GUYS!” Jack yelled, eyes flashing golden. The books on the shelves all rustled, and the lights began flickering ominously. The cup of ball point pens on the table flew hard against the opposite wall and smashed.

We both turned to where he fumed angrily.

“It’s okay, Jack,” Sam said soothingly, holding both hands up in surrender and stepping away from me. “We aren’t going to hit each other.”

I scoffed, turning on my heel for my bedroom.

“I think we should listen to Dean,” Jack said softly, stopping me in my tracks. “He sounds like he knows what actual…issues feel like. We should trust him. We should look up lore.”

“I’m…I’m going to bed,” I mumbled, surprised he believed me but too deep in my tantrum to turn back now. “Food’s in the kitchen if you want any. I’ll cuff myself to the headboard. But I’m going to my bed. Don’t creep on me.”

Sam’s POV:

I didn’t sleep that night. I checked on Dean at least four times, despite his insistence I not, and he appeared to be sleeping soundly with one hand cuffed above his head to the bed frame each time I did. I didn’t know what was going on, but I couldn’t lose my big brother. I’d already had too close of a call with that only days ago. So if keeping him safe meant peeking in on him every hour, he’d have to suck it up.

Between checks, I sat on my bed and tried to find lore. A crumb, anything, that made sense with what was happening. My eyes were glazed over on the screen as I examined the same legends over and over again, none of which I’d ever even heard of. I felt like I’d combed over even the most obscure monsters, and nothing was making sense. The clock on my nightstand read 3:07, and I rubbed my eyes with my palms.

Suddenly my door flew open hard, and I hadn’t even had time to reach for the gun under my pillow before Cas’s anxious face was in mine. “It’s Dean. Come now.”

I jumped up without thinking, wearing only my sleep shorts and socks, and followed Cas quickly to Dean’s room a few doors down. I didn’t question him, but I was scared of what I might find behind the door. Please let him be okay…

Dean was lying on his back, drenched in sweat, one hand still cuffed to the bed. It looked as if Cas had pulled all of his pillows, blankets, and sheets from under and off of him to the floor, where they lay in a crumpled heap. “He was face down in his pillow,” he said urgently. “Gasping for air. I rolled him over and he’s breathing okay now, but I can’t wake him. I tried to reach him in his mind before I ever intruded here but he acted like he couldn’t hear me. He’s in Hell, Sam.” His jaw clenched as he closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. “It’s bad. We have to get him conscious.”

I quickly pulled the key out of Dean’s nightstand and uncuffed him, letting his arm fall to the mattress. “Dean, wake up,” I said loudly, shaking him. I didn’t really expect that to accomplish anything, especially if Cas had been in his mind already, but I wasn’t sure what else to try.

I could see his eyes moving beneath his lids, rapidly back and forth. I lifted one of his eyelids and they continued to dart blindly. “No,” he groaned, stirring. An expression of what looked like pain briefly crossed his face.

“Sam,” Cas said tensely, swallowing.

“I know,” I said in a strained tone.

Dean gasped out, and before I realized what he was doing he began raking his fingernails almost frantically down the inside of his left arm. The wounds were deep, immediately deep enough to draw blood, and Cas climbed on to the mattress and wrestled his arms down until he finally stopped struggling. He was shaking slightly in his sleep as Cas hovered over him, pinning him down.

“Dean,” he said loudly, and I watched numbly as the blood from my brother’s wrist dripped from between Cas’s fingers into a growing red stain on the fitted sheet.

It was horrifying. Like watching a possession, my brother’s body was not his own. He’d been attempting to sever arteries with nothing but his own hands—I hadn’t seen him that unhinged even bearing the Mark of Cain.

“Dean, you need to wake up,” I said, hauling him into a sitting position. Cas cautiously let go of his hands as I did so. His head lolled forward onto his chest and I did the only thing I could think of at that point. I smacked him. “Hey. Hey! Dean!” I said, shaking him roughly by the front of his shirt as I grew more desperate. “Cas, do I need to call 911?” My mind was spinning at the prospect. What would happen if the law found out we lived here? Was it even safe to move him and take him to the hospital ourselves? Was this monsters or a psychotic break? Could doctors even help us?

“He looks like he’s fallen into some sort of coma,” Cas said urgently. “There’s one thing I can try before that, it might be enough to jolt him awake. But it won’t be pleasant for him.”

“I don’t care, do it,” I said immediately. “He’d want you to do it.”

Cas grimaced and rolled up his sleeve, and it hit me exactly what he was going to do. He gently laid Dean back against the mattress, taking care to support his head as if he were a newborn. He removed his belt swiftly, and, hooking a single finger between Dean’s lips, lowered his jaw enough to force the leather between his teeth. He glanced at me with a grimace before pressing his fingers against Dean’s chest. I watched an all too familiar scenario play out as his hand sunk past his skin, into him, and Dean stirred somewhat for a second before letting out a muffled cry of pain and sitting straight up in bed. Cas barely had enough time to pull his hand away.

Dean’s eyes were unfocused and scared, but his breathing slowed when he saw us standing around him. Presumably at the sound of his yell, Jack had come skidding into the doorway in fuzzy socks and a matching plaid pajama set. “What’s going on?” he demanded. His face paled when he saw Dean’s arm, still weeping blood.

Dean blinked a few times and reached up to pull the belt from his mouth before registering the pain in his chest, and he put his own hand where Castiel’s had been. “God, Cas, what did you do?” he croaked.

“I touched your soul,” Cas replied matter-of-factly, but there was no mistaking the relief in his voice.

“You couldn’t take me on a date or somethin’ first?” Dean groaned, and Castiel froze at that and opened his mouth wordlessly.

Dean’s quiet laugh caused Cas’s jaw to close, and he patted his hand while still absently rubbing his chest. Cas hesitantly touched Dean’s arm, and the familiar soft healing glow emanated from his skin as Dean seemed to notice his wound for the first time. He stared at the three of us. “You assholes believe me yet?”

Chapter 4

Chapter Text

Dean’s POV:

The next two days passed in a never-ending monotony. The four of us sat nearly wordlessly at the big wooden table in the library for hours on end, reading the legends over and over again. We’d already exhausted American lore, as well as Canadian and South American. We were working our way across all of Europe at the moment. Eileen, Bobby, Garth, and Jody had also been informed of my symptoms and were researching on their end. Cas had even managed to get a message down to Rowena, and she was attempting to create a spell that could undo whatever was happening to me. Sam and Jack slept in short shifts, but someone was always awake watching me. Keeping me from falling asleep. It was left unspoken, but my family knew we were on a countdown. I felt like a f*cking ticking time bomb. This far in, though, I was almost ready to risk the permanent coma if it meant a twenty minute cat nap. I’d stayed awake for two days before, but I hadn’t factored in the small amount of restless sleep I’d been getting in the days prior. Not to mention that, while I was grateful Cas had touched my soul to wake me up, the action itself was primarily used to drain a human and juice up an angel. I felt like I was dead on my feet. I’d limited my coffee intake at first due to its negative effects on me, but I couldn’t even feel the jitters anymore. I’d taken countless cold showers, paced the perimeter of the bunker multiple times, blared music through my headphones, and still my eyelids felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. Now I mostly sat still, trying to conserve my energy.

I glanced over at the time numbly and groaned when I saw it was after 3 a.m. Sam was on his tablet, I had the laptop, and Cas and Jack poured over thick dusty books we’d hauled up from the basem*nt. Castiel still hadn’t spoken to me much beyond what was necessary for our investigation, but he was here, so that was something.

On more than one occasion I found my eyelids drooping, and Sam would shake my shoulder or say my name. All I wanted was to rest my eyes. The words on the screen had long since ceased legibility, and they swam uselessly in my vision. In fact, my own friends were beginning to look suspiciously distorted as the exhaustion became worse.

“Sam I have to sleep,” I finally murmured, my cheek heavy on my palm. “I have to sleep, man.”

“You know we can’t let you,” Sam sighed. “Trust me Dean, I’ve been there. I’m sorry. We’re trying so hard.”

I rubbed my knuckles into my eyes in frustration. “I’m going to end up passing out.”

“We’ll keep you awake,” Cas said. It looked like it pained him to say it.

“Okay, so you keep me awake and then I’ll just die from sleep deprivation anyway after what, a week?” I sighed.

“We’re going to figure out what’s doing this, I promise,” Cas said softly. “We won’t let you die.”

We lapsed back into silence after that, and other than the occasional shove or “Dean”, nobody spoke as they worked with a renewed sense of urgency. My consciousness grew more and more weary, and I was about to stand up from the table and work on my feet when Jack spoke.

“Mare,” he said suddenly, and the three of us turned to look at him. His voice was loud after the hours of only cleared throats and turned pages.

“Huh?” I said in confusion, yawning.

“It’s a mare,” he repeated confidently, turning the book he was examining and jabbing his finger at a specific passage.

Sam took the book from him and read out loud intently. “A mare is a malicious creature from Germanic folklore that causes nightmares, intense sweating, progressive suicidal tendencies, sleep paralysis, coma, and…” He cleared his throat. “And eventual death. Jack, I think you’re right. I think we have it!” A tired smile of relief spread across his face and he slung an arm around Jack’s shoulders.

I wasn’t so easily placated. “Well, what else?” I asked immediately. Knowing what it was meant next to nothing if we had no way to stop it.

Sam skimmed, his brow furrowed. “It says the mare rides the victim at night? They can look like anyone, and in order for them to maintain that connection they must be close and have regular contact. Basically, it sounds like the mare will eventually drive you crazy because your nightmares are their energy source. After a while your body will just…shut down.” He winced. “If you don’t end up killing yourself first.”

“Their energy source? Sammy, that sounds real Monster’s Inc.,” I sighed. “But I’ll bite, because it makes more sense than anything else we’ve found. It can look like anyone, huh? How do we know then if that’s what someone is?”

He frowned, running his fingers down the page as his eyes quickly scanned each line. He finally pointed at a passage towards the bottom. “It says here that mares come from darkness, so extremely bright light to the face reveals their true forms. Decapitation and burning gets rid of them for good.”

I stood without a word, fighting the brain fog, and headed to the utility closest.

“Dean?” Sam asked curiously.

I ignored him, grabbing the heavy duty floodlight looking flashlight we had for power outages off the top shelf and coming back to stare at him pointedly.

“You don’t really think it’s one of us,” Sam said. “You’re joking, right? If it was one of us, why would we be doing everything in our power to keep you vertical right now?”

“You said this friggin’ thing can look like anyone, so no, I’m as serious as a heart attack,” I said flatly, pulling my Bowie knife from the concealed hook under the table and placing it flat on the wooden surface.

Sam sighed. “Go ahead, then,” he grimaced. “If it’ll make you feel better.”

“The only thing that will make me feel better is a four day nap,” I said flatly. I turned the blinding light on and aimed it at his face, and he squeezed his eyes shut before squinting at me. “Still me, except now seeing spots. Satisfied?”

I grunted, turning the light onto Jack next without warning. I felt like an interrogator in an old crime show. Usually, that would be a thrill. But today, and with my family as the suspects, I just wanted it over. Jack made a noise of discomfort and held a hand up to shield his eyes as the light hit him, but otherwise he still looked like the little cherub he was. That was two.

“Sorry, buddy,” I said to Cas, pointing the light at him.

Castiel looked back with neutral eyes through the glow, arms folded and eyebrows slightly raised, and I found myself shifting my weight at the intense way he stared me down.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” I said, turning the light off and shaking my head. “I’m not regularly around anyone else.”

“You are Marie,” Cas said quietly, and I turned on him.

“Would you quit—,” Realization dawned on me, and I felt ice down my spine. “Oh son of a bitch, it’s right there in the name, too. f*ck.”

The room was silent with the weight of our discovery. And for all intents and purposes, Marie had been riding me. The whole time, she’d probably been putting me to sleep and sucking out my life force or whatever the hell it was she did.

I rubbed my tired eyes and sat down hard at the table. “What’s the plan then?”

“I’m sorry Dean. I know you really liked her,” Sam sighed.

“I really liked her,” Jack mumbled.

Castiel sat very quietly.

“It doesn’t matter. She’s a monster, so we put her down,” I said, shutting down the conversation. “What’s the plan?”

Nobody replied, so I quickly formulated one of my own as I spoke. “Okay, fine. I’ll text her once the sun’s up, tell her how much I need her here. Convince her to let herself in and meet me in my room. Then we’ll shine the light on her to be sure and off with her head, I guess.” I gestured to Sam and Jack. “You two might as well try to get a few more hours of sleep in. I’ll stay up, promise. Cas can babysit me.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” Sam said quietly. He looked sheepish.

“Yeah, well. It is what it is.” I tried to harden my heart against what I was going to have to do. “You’ve had to kill a girlfriend or two you realized were monsters. This isn’t new territory.”

“But I know it hurts,” he replied. His eyes were gentle.

“It is what it is, damn it,” I snapped. I stood, looking at Cas. “Can you please come talk to me?”

Cas hesitated, and I leveled a look at him. “Castiel. Please.”

He nodded slightly at that, and followed me down the hall to my room. I closed the door behind us and sat down on my bed, patting the mattress next to me.

“Listen,” I said as he sat down stiffly. “In a roundabout sort of way, you were right. I shouldn’t have been bringing her here.”

“But this makes you unhappy,” Cas replied. It wasn’t a question.

I laughed mirthlessly, running a hand through my hair. “I mean no, I’m not thrilled that the girl I’ve been sleeping with is probably a monster who was eventually gonna make me go crazy or shut down my organs.”

Castiel stayed silent, so I went on. “But we’ve gotta talk, man. I…I have to see people.” Because I can’t see you. “One way or another. But I don’t want my best friend running off every time that happens.”

“It’s…difficult feeling your emotions when you’re with a woman,” Cas finally said quietly.

I paused. So he did feel it when I was hooking up. What I said next hurt, but I knew it was necessary and only fair. “Well then maybe we should find you one? At least for the night. So you can feel those emotions yourself, ya know?” The thought of a woman in Cas’s arms made me sick to my stomach. I remembered the rage I’d felt when he’d slept with April, the way my heart broke when he’d kissed Meg. But it was selfish to expect that he stayed celibate because of my own sick hangups.

Castiel chuckled, but he dropped his eyes. “Because that worked out so well the first time you tried to set me up.”

I had an immediate flash to early on in our friendship, trying to get him some action because we thought it was going to be his last night alive. I’d taken him to a strip club and all but put the stripper in his lap myself, but he decided instead of getting a lap dance he would tell the young woman that it wasn’t her fault her father left her. We’d been chased out of the club. I laughed out loud at the memory, smiling. That night had been the first time Castiel had pulled at something in my heart and made me realize he wasn’t just another dick with wings. There was something soft about him. Good.

I smiled wider to myself, but sobered up when I saw that Cas was no longer smiling. “I’ve been selfish,” he said softly. “I ignored you when you needed me.”

“I’ve been an ass,” I shrugged, trying to make it seem like it wasn’t a big deal. “I could’ve taken her somewhere else. I should have. It’s not safe bringing people here. I guess I just wanted to feel normal. Where were you at, anyway, man?”

Cas looked down at his hands. “I wasn’t far. Colorado, mostly. I had to stay close enough I could wake you up. I knew you were having strange nightmares. And I knew you told me to stay out of your head. But I was…worried.” He said the word uncomfortably, like it embarrassed him to admit. “It was incredibly hard ignoring you. Ignoring your prayers. Dean Winchester, the last few days have made me realize how fragile you are.”

I bristled. “I’m not fragile!”

Cas smiled gently like he was indulging a child, which irritated me further. “I don’t mean it offensively. You are extraordinary not fragile for a human. I just meant…” he trailed off then, looking away. “Life is fragile. Seeing you the way you were on the floor of that factory. I thought I was too late. I thought my ignoring you and refusal to help you was the reason you were dead.” I could hear the emotion in his voice and I watched as his jaw clenched. “I don’t know what I would’ve done.” He hesitated. “I don’t like being away from you.”

My heart squeezed at that. I didn’t like him being away from me either. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks and I cleared my throat. “Well, I’m fine, man. No need to be guilty. Patched up good as new. Now we’ve just gotta take care of this mare and we can get on with our regularly scheduled programming.”

Castiel stood. “Yes. You should get some more coffee in you, in the meantime. I know you’re exhausted. There’re still a few hours at least until the mare is going to expect a text from you…anything earlier and she’ll be suspicious. She clearly knows what we are. As stupid as she plays.”

I stood as well, reaching to touch his arm before hesitating and letting my hand drop. “Cas, give it to me straight. You didn’t like her before any of this, did you? It wasn’t just that I’d brought her to the bunker,” I said.

“No,” Cas replied, but didn’t offer any further explanation. “Coffee.”

****

“Let’s go through the plan again,” I said gruffly, taking another drink of coffee and yawning.

Sam checked his watch. “You’ll text Marie. Something compelling enough to get her over here, and I don’t want the dirty details. Jack will let her in; she likes him. He’ll tell her she can go ahead and meet you in your room, that you’re…I don’t know, doing something special for her or whatever. You me and Cas will be there waiting. When she comes in the room, the first thing she’ll get is a blast of light to the face from Cas. If she’s what we think she is, you and I will be in there to take her out.”

I swallowed. “And if we’re wrong?”

“I’ll wipe her memory,” Castiel said. “And she’ll be none the wiser.”

I rubbed my forehead with a sigh. “Okay.”

“Dean…,” Sam said, meeting my eyes gently. “If this is something that’s hard for you…you don’t have to be a part of it. Cas and I can handle it.” I knew he was thinking back to the first time he’d had to kill a girl he was into. And I knew that particular hunt haunted him to this day.

“It’s fine. If she’s a monster, she’s a monster. That’s all there is to it,” I said flatly.

“We both know that’s not all there is to it.”

“Knock it off, Sam,” I warned, and he raised his hands in surrender.

Jack had been sitting quietly up to this point, and I noted his morose expression. “What’s up, kid?” I asked, nudging him. Trying to get the spotlight off of myself.

“I like Marie,” he said sadly, picking at his fingers.

Sam gave me a look before putting a hand on Jack’s arm. “You understand why we have to do this though, right? It’s extremely important that we all stick to the plan. If anybody strays, it will fall apart.” If Jack wanted to, he could screw this whole thing up with just a few words.

He nodded glumly. “I get it. She’s hurting Dean, so she has to go. She was just friendly to me. I don’t get a lot of social interaction.”

Well, damn. Maybe sidelining Jack had been more detrimental than I’d thought. I mean, he really didn’t have a life at all outside of me, Sam, and Cas. We’d discussed high school before, but he really wasn’t emotionally ready to deal with that kind of crowd and keep his secret. First time he saw a kid get hurt, or bullied? Performing miracles or getting mad and glowy was not how you laid low. And he couldn’t exactly date. I just didn’t want anyone else getting unnecessarily hurt because he was still learning.

“We’ll get you back out there with us,” Sam promised him, ignoring the look I shot at him. “It’s not healthy to stay cooped up in here.”

“You’ll let me hunt?” he asked, his face lighting up.

“Small cases at first,” I interjected. “Let you get your toes back in the water.”

Jack nodded happily, oblivious to the fact that I was putting him on probation. Or maybe just not caring. He looked like a golden retriever being told he could go on a walk. He stood up from the kitchen table and gestured to the coffee pot. “Would anyone like more coffee?” he asked cheerfully.

I hesitated. I really couldn’t afford to have shaky hands for what I was going to have to do, but I was beyond exhausted and I couldn’t afford to go back to sleep until this was all over, either. “Yeah, sure,” I finally said, holding my mug up.

“Be careful, you know high levels of caffeine can make you anxious,” Castiel said, and the three of us turned to look at him at the same time.

“I’ve never told you that,” I blinked. “Hell, I’ve never told anyone that.”

Cas froze and looked embarrassed. “I apologize. It’s…it’s something I sense from you. It’s easy to forget which of your emotions you’ve let me in on and which I’m merely reading.”

My heart stuttered a bit at that, and I looked away quickly. If he could pick up on something as simple as a coffee buzz, could he sense how I’d been feeling around him? I pushed back from the table, clearing my throat. “Actually Jack, hold off on the coffee. I’m gonna go take a quick walk, clear my head. Maybe the fresh air will wake me up.”

Jack looked confused, but nodded. He knew as well as I did that exercise was not something I did willingly.

I slid past Cas where he leaned in the doorway, and I felt the almost visible crackle of energy between us as I did. “I’ll be back,” I managed, leaving the three of them to stare holes through my back on the way out the door.

****

As I leaned against the large rock outside the bunker, I tried to gulp in the morning air as deeply as I could. My chest was tight. Despite the cool fall breeze I could feel cold sweat prickling my forehead at the hairline. I recognized the warnings of an impending anxiety attack and tried to make my breathing deliberate and slow. There was no way Castiel didn’t know about my confusing feelings for him. He had to know. That’s why he’d been staying away. I put my head in my hands. In a matter of hours I would likely be having to kill the only intimate relationship I’d held since Lisa. I was struggling with whatever the hell my weird connection with Cas was doing to me. Every time I tried to sleep I was at more and more risk of death or permanent coma. And f*ck, my eyes burned from sleep deprivation.

I heard a car slowly rolling up the gravel road towards me, and I reached instinctively to feel the knife safe on my hip as I squinted into the sunrise. This place was secluded and out of the way—the only time we had company was when it was expected.

I saw the silver Toyota then, and I stood up as my blood ran cold. Marie?

“Hey stranger, come here often?” she crooned, rolling down the passenger window and leaning across the seat to wink at me. She pulled off to the side of the road and turned the engine off before opening her door and approaching me.

I had to admit, she looked harmless. Nothing about her screamed evil sex sleep creature. She wore a pair of sunglasses that hid her eyes, but they couldn’t hide the grin on her face when she held her arms out. “I was going to try to surprise you, but it looks like you’re an early bird,” she giggled. She squeezed me tight and I froze for a moment before slowly putting my arms back around her.

“Hi,” I said lamely, and she kissed my cheek.

“Hi,” she smiled back. “Why are you out here looking like a hitchhiker, anyway?”

“I needed some air,” I replied, glancing anxiously towards the door to the bunker. The guys had no idea she was here and had no way to get into position.

“I imagine it does get stuffy, living underground with three other guys,” she replied sincerely. “You said your grandpa left you this place?”

“Yeah,” I said absently. “Hey. Uh, are you hungry?”

Marie smiled devilishly, her gaze going towards the front of my pants. “Starving,” she murmured.

I shifted uncomfortably and tried to stop the half interested twitch my dick gave. Monster or not, she was hot and I knew what her mouth could do.

“Let me make you pancakes,” I blurted, taking her hand.

“Oh…kay?” she replied, looking confused at my request.

I led her into the bunker and watched as she stepped across the devil’s trap rug with ease. Touched the iron stairwell without a flinch. Like she always did.

“Dean,” Sam’s voice came from the kitchen at our footsteps, and he stopped short when he saw Marie with me. Cas and Jack, who had been trailing close behind, nearly ran into him. Jack’s mouth popped open as he looked to us for direction.

“Hi, Jack,” Marie smiled, giving him a little wave.

“Hi,” he squeaked back, waving meekly but refusing to take a step closer.

“And you’re Cas, right?” Marie said in a bright tone with a laugh. “The guy that pulled a knife on me!”

Cas frowned. “Castiel,” he corrected flatly.

Marie’s smile didn’t waver. “Well it’s nice to officially meet you, Castiel.”

Before Cas could glare daggers at her any harder, I clapped my hands together. “Okay,” I said, very pointedly meeting each of their eyes. “I’m gonna make Marie some breakfast. So nobody bother us. You’re on your own for grub this morning.”

“No problem, Dean!” Jack piped up. “I think we were gonna go for a ride in a minute. I want to feed the birds.”

“Sounds good,” I said. “Sam drives the Impala, nobody else.” I knew the entire situation was staged, but I couldn’t even pretend to be okay with anyone else sitting in Baby’s driver seat. I took Marie by the hand, walking her past the three of them and into the kitchen off the study.

She hopped up to sit on the counter, giving me a pouty look. “Castiel doesn’t like me,” she said, her lower lip stuck out slightly.

“Castiel doesn’t like anyone,” I replied, reaching into the pantry for the box of pancake mix. “He’s a paranoid schizophrenic.”

“So you’ve said,” she sighed. She made a noise of disappointment, swinging her legs as she watched me grab a large mixing bowl.

“Hey, you gonna help or just sit there and look pretty?” I teased in a strained tone, pushing a measuring cup into her hands.

She pretended to think about it. “I guess I’ll help.” She jumped down and walked to the sink, winking at me, and my stomach clenched at how normal she was acting. She didn’t seem like a monster.

After filling the cup she returned, coming up behind me and kissing my shoulder. “So,” she said. “Since you’re making me breakfast now, does this make us more than f*ck buddies?”

I dropped the whisk into the bowl with a clatter and Marie came around beside me to give me a skeptical look. “Are you okay? Or did the thought of being my boyfriend disgust you that badly?”

“Yeah, I uh. Coffee,” I blurted. “Coffee makes me jittery. I had too much this morning.” I guess it didn’t hurt to let her in on a secret if she’d be dead soon anyway.

“Are you not sleeping well?” she asked.

The question stopped me dead in my tracks and I turned to look at her. She looked completely sincere, however, and reached a hand up to touch my cheek, running her thumb over the dark purple circles under my eyes. It took everything in me not to flinch away. “Dean. Talk to me.”

I made myself kiss her forehead and turn away with a shrug. “Just been having some nightmares,” I said.

Marie made a noise of sympathy. “Maybe I could distract you?” she murmured, teasing her fingers along the waistband of my jeans. “Help put you to sleep, how’s that sound?”

“Breakfast,” I interjected lamely, jabbing a thumb at the partially mixed ingredients.

“It can wait,” she breathed, nibbling my earlobe. “Your friends went on a ride…we can be as loud as we want, you know.” She slid her hand down the front of my pants, taking ahold of my already half hard co*ck and giving it a single gentle stroke.

I braced my hand against the counter, trying to clear my head through the fog of lust that was quickly filling it. Monster. She was a monster. Trying to kill me.

“Yeah, let’s go,” I finally said. Surely the others had set up by now.

Marie smiled jubilantly, removing her hand from my pants. She kissed me hard, stripping her shirt off over her head as she did so.

“What are you doing?” I managed, catching her hands as she tried to unbutton my jeans.

“Getting naked,” she breathed against my mouth. “You should join.”

“Wait…we can’t have sex in the kitchen,” I protested, my voice coming out an octave higher than usual. This was not the plan!

“Sure we can,” she replied, squirming out of her jeans and draping herself across the counter she’d been sitting on earlier. She looked over her shoulder at me through her lashes. “f*ck me, Dean,” she purred.

My stomach clenched. This wasn’t the plan. They were just down the hall in my room. Waiting. Cas would feel everything. He’d told me it was hard to be around when I was with someone, and this was dropping him dead center in the middle of an atomic bomb. I hadn’t planned on having sex with her again. Especially not after knowing it bothered him. I tried not to let myself think of the deeper reason behind that decision.

“Let’s go to my room,” I said, stepping forward to grab her arms and pull her into a standing position. “I don’t have condoms on me.”

She pushed her ass back hard against my crotch, and my hands fell to her hips automatically to steady myself as I stumbled. “You can pull out. f*ck me!” she complained.

I did.

As I ripped her panties aside, I f*cked her with all the hurt and anger and confusion I was feeling. I f*cked her in resentment of what I knew Cas was going through right now. I f*cked her because I liked her and didn’t want to kill her, despite what she was. I f*cked her until her fingers were scrambling for purchase across the countertop and I knew her hipbones had to be meeting metal. I listened to her cursing and moaning until my anger outweighed my pleasure and I reached forward to cover her mouth with one hand. I no longer wanted to hear her, and I sure as hell didn’t want Cas to have to hear her. She let out a muffled cry and tightened around me, and I closed my eyes on the last few thrusts as she forced me over the edge and whispered a silent prayer to Cas of how sorry I was before pulling out and releasing on to her back. I tried to stay silent as I stroked myself through it, eyes still closed tightly as I took deep breaths through my nose.

Marie continued to lie across the counter silently, and I awkwardly tucked myself back into my jeans and buttoned them. “Are you okay?” I asked softly. I couldn’t help but feel bad.

“More than okay,” she said. I could hear the smile in her voice. “But I need you to clean me up before I can stand back up.”

“Oh, uh, right,” I blushed. I grabbed a clean dish towel and wiped the mess on her back, and once I gave her the go ahead she stood up and slowly pulled her panties and jeans back up over her hips.

“I’ve never seen you take control like that before,” she said matter-of-factly. “Is there some pent up rage in there I should know about?”

“Nah,” I said, handing her her shirt. And I wasn’t totally lying. My emotions were so muddled I didn’t know what had caused me to act like that. I was a gentle lover. Submissive, even. But between knowing she would be dead in a matter of minutes…knowing she was tricking me and trying so damn hard to get me to believe she cared for me, when in reality it had just proven how incapable of being loved I really was…and knowing what I was putting Cas through as a result of my own idiocy…something had just broken within me.

“Let’s go lay down for a little bit,” she said, tugging at my hand.

“Yeah,” I agreed, taking a breath.

The walk to my room seemed to take far too long, and when my fingers closed on the handle I knew there was no going back. I let us in and felt the unmistakable crinkle of plastic or tarp under my feet.

To catch the blood, I thought.

I tried not to jump as I felt a hand on my wrist in the darkness, firmly pushing the handle of a machete into my palm. I curled my fingers around it automatically.

Marie didn’t seem to notice. “It’s dark in here,” she giggled, feeling for the light switch on the wall.

At that moment we were blinded by a flashlight, and I saw Sam erupt from the darkness beside me to grab Marie by the shoulders. I turned and looked at her face, dreading what I would see.

Something inhuman stared back at me. Pointed ears and beady red eyes, a scowl and needle sharp teeth. Thick ropes of saliva hanging from an open jaw. “Dean!” the creatures mouth opened but Marie’s terrified voice came out, and I swallowed hard.

Jack flipped the light switch on and immediately I was staring into wide terrified eyes, filled with tears.

“Turn them off, damn it,” I barked, and he did immediately in shock at my tone.

Cas maintained the light into the mare’s face, a grim expression on his, and she was a creature once more.

“Dean, don’t let them hurt me,” she begged, squirming hard in Sam’s grip. “Please help me!” Her eyes flickered to Jack. “Jack, honey, please stop them, please!” Her voice threw me off, but the red eyes and distorted features made it easier to ignore her pleas.

I felt Jack stiffen beside me at her mention of his name, and I put a reassuring hand on his arm. I stared her down, forcing the image of what she really was into my brain. “No one’s helping you,” I said flatly.

Her monstrous face twisted into a hateful smile. “Kill me then,” she snarled. “That won’t solve your problems. I’ve seen your heart, Dean Winchester, you’re a shattered man! Twisted and broken and unworthy, and no amount of your pathetic demented unrequited love will ever put you back to--”

“Dean, now!” Sam grunted, clearly struggling to hang on as she scratched at his arms and kicked her legs violently.

I clenched my jaw and swung, turning away with a flinch just before her head hit the ground.

Chapter 5

Chapter Text

Sam’s POV:

I let go of the body and dropped it to the floor in disgust, wiping the flecks of gore from my face with the back of my hand. “Jack, hit the lights,” I said quietly.

The room flooded with the soft yellow glow from Dean’s bulb, and Castiel turned off the flashlight. Marie’s body was lying prone across the tarp, and thankfully her mess of hair covered the features of the dismembered head that lay next to it.

Dean was facing the wall, his fists clenched. He had dropped the machete.

“Dean,” I said cautiously. “If you need to leave the room you can. We’ll clean up. It’s not a big deal.”

There was another beat of silence, and then he turned. He looked down at the body slowly and deliberately, then back up at us. “I’m fine,” he said calmly. He turned to Castiel, but wouldn’t look him in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Cas.”

Cas nodded slightly, keeping his own eyes cast to the floor, and I looked between them in confusion. I was waiting for clarification, but none came.

Dean cleared his throat. “The tarp was a good idea,” he said with a curt nod. “Let’s get it taken care of.”

Jack was pale, and I noticed his hands shaking as he bent to reach for the edge of the plastic.

“Jack, you can go. We’ll handle it,” I said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He raised his chin defiantly. “I’m okay.”

Dean looked over his shoulder. “Kid. Go,” he said gently but firmly.

Jack hesitated a moment but left the room at Castiel’s encouraging nod. I heard him let out a shaky breath on the other side of the door. Maybe he really wasn’t cut out for hunting, despite his power. His heart was too pure.

The three of us rolled the body up in the tarp in silence. Castiel twined his fingers through a fistful of Marie’s long dark hair and dropped her head in a small black garbage bag unceremoniously, tying it off with a frown. He placed the bag back on the floor next to the body and turned to me. With a gentle touch, the cuts on my forearms closed. His face seemed tight.

“So she really was a monster,” Dean finally said with a sigh, looking down at the rolled up mass on the floor.

“I’m sorry, man. I know you liked her,” I said.

Dean shrugged, but I could see that he was bothered far more than he let on. “Not the first time I had to kill someone I didn’t want to. Benny’s rotting in Purgatory right now because I had to make the hard choice. This wasn’t one. She was evil.” He hesitated a minute before rubbing his forehead. “Her car is out there. It’s gotta go.” He carefully unwrapped the tarp enough to gain access to her blue jeans, feeling the pockets for a moment before reaching inside of one and pulling out a set of car keys.

“What was she talking about, ‘unrequited love’? She thought you were in love with her?” I hadn’t gotten that vibe from him, but maybe I’d missed it. Dean was good at keeping me out when he wanted to.

“Yeah, no clue what she meant,” he replied quickly. “She was a crazy bitch, Sam.”

No one spoke for a moment, and then Castiel stepped forward. “I’ll carry the body out to the trunk of the car,” he said into the uncomfortable silence. “We can take it somewhere at sunset and burn it.” He knelt and gingerly lifted the black tarp burrito, and grabbed the trash bag as he did.

“Here, let me help,” I said, taking the bag from him. The weight of the head was unsettling, and I knew Cas didn’t realistically need my assistance. But I also knew that my brother would want to be alone, as much as I didn’t think that was a good idea.

Dean gave us both a long look before tossing the keys to me and sitting down on the end of his bed. He looked weary. “I’ll be out in a few, okay?”

I nodded to him, one side of my mouth pulling up in a sympathetic half smile. Cas exited the room first and I followed after, pulling the door closed behind me with my free hand. The bag at my side swung like a morbid pendulum and I winced as I felt it hit my thigh with a muted thud.

“Meet me in the garage, alright?” I asked quietly.

Cas nodded, and he turned up the staircase leading to the garage level while I gingerly carried the black bag through the library and war room. I was grateful Jack was nowhere to be found. I wasn’t sure how well he’d handle this. I held the bag out carefully away from me as I ascended the metal staircase that led outside. It was far safer to load the body up from inside the shelter of the bunker, not to mention it would stay cooler. Having a dead body in the trunk under the sun all day was not a wise idea.

I stepped outside and made sure no one was driving by before approaching the silver Toyota parked by the edge of the road . I tried the handle and it was unlocked. I sat down and pushed the driver’s seat back far enough to allow myself leg room, putting the key into the ignition and turning it. The sound of the engine was comforting as I placed the trash bag in the passenger seat next to me. It really wasn’t healthy how normal this was to me.

Gravel crunched under the tires as I maneuvered around to the back of what appeared to be an abandoned building. The garage entrance was hidden in the brush, out of the way of passerby, and thanks to Charlie’s knowledge and some minor renovation and rigging, it had a Bluetooth garage opener that could be accessed from our phones. I opened the app and pressed my thumb where directed, looking in my rear view mirror to make sure once again that there was no one around.

The ancient door slowly rose, and I edged the car into the cement tunnel that led to our ridiculously sized garage. The walls and floor were completely covered in warding sigils, devil’s traps, anything a hunter could dream of. Once I was safely through, I directed the app on my screen to close the door and my headlights led the way out of the dark tunnel and into the large open room.

Cas was standing grimly near the wall, and I hit the trunk lever before turning the car off, grabbing the bag, and exiting the vehicle.

“At dusk we’ll back the car out, light it on fire, and then I’ll send it elsewhere,” Cas said, laying the large rolled bundle he still held in the trunk.

I put the bag containing the head in on top of the tarp. “Where’s elsewhere?”

“Probably somewhere in the mid Atlantic,” he replied matter-of-factly, shutting the trunk a little too hard. He looked strained. Distracted.

“Dean’s going to be okay,” I said softly, meeting his eyes.

Cas smiled tiredly. “I know he will be. He’s incredibly strong.”

“What did he mean, when he apologized to you?” I asked. I couldn’t help myself.

Castiel’s eyes hardened. “I’d assume it’s because I warned him about bringing her here,” he said, but the inflection of his voice told me he wasn’t telling the whole truth.

I didn’t push the issue. “I’m glad he has you,” I said sincerely, cuffing his shoulder.

If Cas hadn’t been an angel, I’d have sworn his cheeks turned somewhat pink. “Thank you, Sam,” he replied gruffly. He opened his mouth for a moment like he was going to say something else, but instead he furrowed his brow and turned on his heel to head back down to the main level.

I followed him, somewhat surprised he hadn’t just disappeared again now that all this was over. As we hit the bottom of the stairs, Jack rounded the corner in the hall quickly. Cas caught and steadied him. “Jack, what’s going on?” he asked.

Jack tilted his head slightly in confusion, a feature he’d picked up from his adoptive father. “Well…Dean’s cleaning?”

****

Dean’s POV:

I threw back the last swig of my beer and dropped the bottle into the trashcan in the kitchen, pausing to grab another one from the fridge and popping the top off. I closed the fridge door with my foot and tested the water temperature in the sink. I gave an affirmative grunt as I killed the faucet and swished the bleach around in the water with my finger for good measure before dunking the old dishrag I held into the sink and hauling it, dripping, over to the counter.

It made a wet slap as I began scrubbing down the metal countertop, mostly unconscious to the fact that I was soaking both my clothing and the floor with bleach. I had to clean. I had to make it better.

My eyes burned in fatigue, or maybe it was from the chemicals. I didn’t know how I was still on my feet, but I had to get the kitchen clean. And then I had to wash my sheets. I had to get rid of every trace of Marie. I’d made things bad enough. My hands stung as I continued to run the rag back and forth across the metal surface, my nostrils searing.

I didn’t know how long I’d been standing there scrubbing the same spot on the counter when Sam and Cas rounded the corner into the kitchen. Sam immediately squinted and coughed, throwing a hand up as if to guard his eyes. “Dean, there’s no ventilation in here,” he managed. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Cleaning,” I said, my resolve fading somewhat when I saw Cas’s concerned expression. “I have to clean—”

Sam looked at Cas like I’d finally lost it, but Cas stepped forward into the room and gently took the wet rag from me and threw it back into the sink. I didn’t fight it. I also didn’t fight it when he pulled me to him, not seeming to care that he was soaking himself with bleach water as he did so. “Dean,” he said firmly into my ear as he held me. “You’re not well. You need to leave the kitchen.”

I pulled back in embarrassment, all too aware of the sensation his breath in my ear had given me. “I’m fine,” I said, wiping my streaming nose on the back of my hand.

Cas ignored me and pushed his right sleeve up, plunging his hand into the sink to release the plug. The harsh suction of the water going down the drain pulled me somewhat back to reality.

“The counter is clean,” he said, giving me a gentle nudge towards the doorway where Sam stood by, looking helpless and worried. “You’re sleep deprived and you have just had to kill someone you cared about. You need to lie down.”

“Didn’t care about her,” I mumbled, which wasn’t the full truth, but it wasn’t a total lie either. I couldn’t explain to him why I was so messed up about the whole thing. This wasn’t a movie, where all emotions could be wrapped up with a bow and easily made sense of. Real life was complicated and messy. I had liked Marie. She had been good to me and had been the first person I’d slept with more than once since Lisa. But I’d known from the beginning she was a distraction and nothing more, and that made me sick to my stomach. I’d been trying to distract myself from Cas being gone; hell, I’d dragged it on longer than I should’ve specifically so Cas would know I was just fine without him here. And then he’d told me how hard it was to be around when I was f*cking her, and I’d f*cked her again anyway with him less than 100 feet away, and I just felt like the worst, most dirty, sh*tty human being, I had to clean, I had to get rid of every trace she’d ever been here to make it up to Cas, I had to tell Cas I was sorry, I…

“Dean,” Sam said loudly, and I realized I was breathing in short little gasps. I looked around, met their eyes, and all I knew was I couldn’t get oxygen in my lungs.

They both approached me, and I stumbled backwards out of the kitchen away from them. I was hot, too hot, and very aware of the slick slimy feeling of my wet clothing against my skin. I stripped the flannel off as I continued to back away, but even my t-shirt felt like it was constricting around my neck. I pulled at the collar with two fingers. My hands were tingling. In the logical part of my brain I knew I was having an anxiety attack, because unbeknownst to most, I’d had plenty of them and managed to keep them hidden before.

I felt my back hit the wall and knew I couldn’t run anymore. I saw Cas saying something to Sam, but couldn’t hear what over the roaring in my ears, and Sam hesitated before nodding and exiting through the door that led to the war room to leave us alone.

“Dean, I need you to take a slow deep breath with me,” Cas said once he was within arms length. “Close your eyes and take a breath.”

“Son of a bitch, I’m fine,” I gasped out, glaring angrily at him and clutching my head.

“Close your eyes. Breathe with me,” he repeated in that same gentle tone, as if I hadn’t spoken at all.

I closed my eyes in defeat, attempting to follow his directions, and instantly felt his hand on my chest. My eyes flew open as my body went into fight or flight, but I realized in the same moment that I could breathe normally again. The roaring in my ears was gone, and I could feel my fingers.

I blinked and swallowed, and I think Cas and I both realized he still had his hand on my chest in the same instant. He ripped it away like I’d burned him.

“Uh, thanks,” I finally muttered. “Sorry you had to see that.”

Cas nodded, his blue eyes burning into mine. “There’s no need for thanks, Dean.”

“Where’d Sam go?” I grunted, shifting awkwardly.

“I asked him to give us a moment so that you didn’t feel as cornered. I assumed that’s why you were backing away from us, you felt cornered?”

I nodded wordlessly. The fact that he could feel and interpret my emotions so easily was not a comforting reminder in this moment. Especially when I was trying so desperately to hide what I felt towards him.

“I, uh…that. That happens sometimes,” I said uncomfortably, gesturing vaguely. “Not like…on hunts or anything. Usually at night. That’s different from the mare sh*t.”

Cas smiled kindly. “I know.”

Of course he knew.

I slid around him, pressing my lips together. “I’m, uh. Gonna try to get some sleep. I should be okay to now, right?”

Cas nodded and looked down, and I swallowed hard at the way his eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks in the low light. “You can rest safely now, Dean.”

I bit the inside of my cheek as I began walking towards my bedroom, and to my surprise he walked alongside me. “I really am sorry. About. Ya know. God, man, I’m sorry. That wasn’t the plan, she just kept insisting...”

“Dean, you’re allowed to have sexual relations with whomever you please, whether I approve or not. I’m not going to say ‘I told you so’.”

“Yeah, but you said it was hard for you to be around…you stayed away because of it. And I don’t wanna lose you again man, I…” I looked away. “I can’t.”

“You reacted the way you knew how in the moment; she wasn’t taking no for an answer. Not without raising suspicion. And I behaved like a child,” he replied quietly. “I shouldn’t have told you it was hard for me to be here when you had a woman here. I’m a cosmic entity and you’re my friend, I should be more mature than that. I should wish for you to be happy. I just…” He sighed.

I was sure he could hear my heart hammering in my chest. My mouth was dry. “You just what?” We’d arrived at my door, which was open. Cas must’ve somehow tipped Sam off to change the sheets for me because there was a fresh set waiting.

“I just don’t know when to keep things to myself,” he finally said with a sad smile. “Rest well, Dean. Sleep heals the mind.”

I grabbed his coat sleeve without thinking. “Hey. Don’t…don’t go again, okay? Please.”

Cas put his hand over mine for a fraction of a second. “I won’t be far. Just down the hall.”

I nodded, rolling my shoulders and running a hand through my hair in an attempt to look more masculine and less vulnerable than I felt. “Good. I’ll kick your ass”

Castiel smiled again and nodded, turning on his heel. I watched him walk back to the end of the hallway we’d come down, back towards the war room and library. God, what a mess he had to think I was. And why the f*ck hadn’t I managed to get to my room and ride the anxiety attack out without him seeing it? He probably got so tired of saving my damsel in distress ass. Hell, the first interaction we’d ever had, he’d been saving me.

‘The last few days have made me realize how extraordinarily fragile you are.’ The shame from his earlier remark returned with a force. At the end of the day, he was an angel and I was just a messed up human with mental issues. And that would never change.

****

Sleep came quickly and mercifully. My dreams were pleasant. Growing old, raising a kid that looked like Ben. Hell, I was married, according to that silver band on my finger. I floated through the dream contentedly. It was my kid’s graduation day. I cheered jubilantly as he crossed that stage, and I felt a warm hand in mine. Without thinking, I leaned over to kiss my dream wife’s cheek.

Castiel grinned back at me, looking at me with adoration in his eyes. He cupped his hands around his mouth and made a noise of celebration down to my—our?—son, who waved at us and gave us a thumbs up as he pointed to his diploma.

I woke up with a start, flailing to right myself as I realized I’d been asleep on my stomach at an awkward angle. My body felt stiff, and my mouth was like cotton. Checking the time on my phone I realized I’d been asleep for twelve hours—it was nearly midnight. I sank back into my pillow, thinking about the dream that had startled me awake. I had just dreamt that Cas, my best friend Cas, was my husband. It had been terrifying and also completely thrilling.

I rubbed my knuckles into my eyes, rolling on to my side. I tried desperately to push the thoughts back to where they came from and rid myself of the f*cking butterflies. I hadn’t felt butterflies like this since my early 20s. I buried my face in my arm and knew there was only one person I could’ve brought myself to call to talk to about this, and she was dead. Charlie would’ve understood. Charlie would’ve told me to stop being a bitch and tell Cas how I felt. She’d tell me that if I could stop the end of the world, I could tell a guy I was in love with him. Love? Whoa. The word had come into my mind way too easily for comfort. I didn’t want to think that’s what this was. It couldn’t be. At any rate, coming forward with that sort of sh*t wasn’t an option. Repressing any thoughts like that was all I knew how to do. It’s all I’d done since I was twelve. Being a man attracted to men was disgusting. That was truth. And I was attracted to women, so it wasn’t even that I was gay.

Was Cas even a man? I’d tried that approach with myself before, but even when angels occupied different vessels, they still consistently called each other “brother” or “sister”. So while Castiel’s true form may not have a dick, it was undoubtedly male presenting. And like it or not, the body Cas currently held was male. But it wasn’t just Cas. Being twelve years old, stealing the cardboard inserts in the front of men’s boxers from Walmart. I’d managed to get a decent stack before Dad found them. And the day he had…I flinched, remembering.

Sammy was eight. He’d been sitting on the bed we shared in the motel, watching cartoons, when Dad came barreling through the door with my duffel bag on his arm. Without a word he’d grabbed my wrist and pulled me from the room, and I followed willingly because that’s what a good son did. Honestly, I’d had no idea where he was headed with the conversation. He’d often pulled me aside for talks he didn’t think Sam was old enough for.

Dad had sat my duffel bag on the hood of the Impala with no words, staring me dead in the eye. “You have one chance to own up to it yourself and be a man.”

I’d blanked out. “Sir?” I’d asked in confusion, blinking.

Dad unzipped the bag roughly, and the second I heard cardboard rustle I swear my stomach had dropped out my ass. He shoved the pictures of half naked men in my face. “What the f*ck is this?” he hissed.

“I—I don’t—” I’d tried desperately to come up with some sort of excuse, but I knew there wouldn’t be one that would satisfy my dad.

“What the hell would you have done if Sam saw you had this sh*t?” he demanded, grabbing me roughly by the front of my shirt.

“I don’t…I don’t look at it around Sam, that’s why it’s in my bag—”

“Do you want your little brother to turn into a fa*ggot too? Huh?” Dad had snarled. “That sh*t is so nasty! You know how queers get treated? They’re killed. I won’t let that be you, Dean!”

“I’m not a fa*ggot,” I said softly, which I really shouldn’t have done.

I saw Dad unbuckle his belt, and I shrank back in shock. Dad had roughed us up before. He’d spanked Sammy, I’d gotten backhanded a few times if I was feeling smart. But he’d never taken a belt to either of us.

“Put your hands against the wall, son,” he said wearily. As if this were a burden on him.

“Dad, please. I’m sorry,” I’d whispered. “I’m not queer. I like girls. You know I like girls. It was a mistake. Please.”

“Dean, I’m not going to ask nicely again.”

I can still remember the way I’d turned to face the wall, my legs barely holding me up. How I’d rested my forehead against the cool brick and cried before he ever touched me. Cried because I had disappointed my father.

John Winchester had not been careful where he aimed. He hadn’t just gotten my ass with the belt. The first lick hit my lower back, and I’d cried out against my will.

“Dean!” I’d seen Sam’s little face at the window, panic stricken as he held a hand flat against the glass.

“Shut the curtains, Sammy,” Dad had said back firmly. I remembered seeing Sam hesitate before tearfully closing the curtains and instead running to the door of the motel room. He’d barely gotten it open an inch before Dad took his free hand and held it closed by the knob.

“I’m okay, Sammy, I promise,” I’d said, my voice thick with humiliation. “It’s okay.”

Dad hit me again and again. My back, my ass, the backs of my thighs and calves. I know people had heard him beating me. I know people had probably opened their curtains and seen him beating me. I held so much anger towards them for a long time that no one stepped forward to stop him. But in ’92 people didn’t intrude on how parents saw fit to discipline their kids. Hell, for all they knew, I’d ended up being brought home by the cops or something, which deserved an ass beating.

He hit me 12 times, one for each year of my age. I’d tried so hard not to let him know that I was hurting. I was a man. I could take any punishment he wanted to dole out. I had earned it, after all. When he’d given me permission to face him, every movement burned.

He lit the cardboard inserts on fire with his lighter and sat them on the concrete, staring across the burning pile at me in disgust. I’d clasped and unclasped my hands as I dropped my eyes.

Once he was sufficiently satisfied that they were unrecognizable ash, he stomped the small flame out with his boot and gave me a push back towards the motel door. The minute I’d opened it, Sam had fallen into my arms, and despite every inch of me hurting, I’d caught him and held on like he was my life preserver. I’d buried my face in the top of his hair and listened to him cry.

Dad had tossed my duffel bag back inside the door and given me a baleful look. “I’ll be back before supper.”

After he was gone, I had sat gingerly on our bed with Sam and promised him that I was okay. Sam, who had clutched a pillow and sniffled as I’d told him Dad had caught me stealing, but no more. I’d turned up his cartoons and rubbed small circles on his back as he’d tried to calm down and told him not to be dumb when he said that we should run away together.

Dad hadn’t made it home for dinner. I’d fed Sam the last of the leftovers and taken a cool shower, and only after I was out did I realize how bad the welts really were. I never did find out why Dad had gotten into my bag. We never talked about that day again. And I told myself that there was no way in hell I’d ever have another thought about a man.

But they always came back. And with Cas, I could no longer shove them down.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to take a deep breath despite the weight on my chest. There was no point in having another anxiety attack over it. I sat up slowly and pulled my laptop off of the nightstand next to my bed. Feeling about twelve years old all over again, I opened the browser and typed “attracted to men and women” with trembling hands.

Bisexual. The word jumped out at me immediately from dozens of articles, with Webster’s Dictionary definition right at the top of the page. I tasted the word on my lips silently. I’d heard it used before, of course. But only in terms of women. A girl and her guy have a frisky relationship and want to invite in a third, because the girl says she’s bisexual. But that wasn’t me. I didn’t want both a man and a woman at the same time. I just wanted…I tried hard to keep the thought down but it filled my mind with reckless abandon. “Cas,” I whispered out loud. I wanted Cas.

Just for a moment, I allowed myself to imagine a life with him at my side as more than a best friend. Not my dream, but a realistic life. Hunters could never hold relationships due to occupational hazards…but that wouldn’t apply to him. I would be able to be happy and continue hunting. And I wouldn’t have to worry about keeping him safe, because this was his lifestyle too. He was more sturdy than any human.

But then there were the drawbacks. I would continue to age. He would not. I would never be able to see his true form. Just the guy he was holed up in. He didn’t sleep. He didn’t eat.

But those blue eyes…

I sighed and clicked on the browser bar again. ‘Bisexual men’.

A p*rn site was the first result, along with a rather graphic thumbnail. I swallowed hard and shut the laptop. Is this what being bisexual meant? Sure, I loved sex. It was great. But when I looked at Castiel, it was so much more than sex. It was his slight head tilt when something didn’t make sense to him. It was the way he worried beer caps between his fingers when he was thinking. It was his throaty chuckle when we managed to make him laugh. The way his eyes flashed when he was about to go all avenging angel. The first time he’d been FBI with me and displayed his badge upside down. Interrogating the cat at a nursing home. Telling me he’d be my Huckleberry. There were so many bits and pieces to what made Cas feel like home. Nothing I felt for him could be reduced to just sex.

And quite frankly, the thought of having sex with him terrified me. Sex with a man was…I tried to let myself think past “dirty”, which was what had been beaten into my head. Scary. Scary was the word. The idea of sex with Castiel was beyond scary.

I fought the revulsion that rose inside of me when I realized that beyond the terror, there was a twinge of arousal. While nothing I felt could be reduced to sex, the idea intrigued me all the same. I closed my eyes against the nausea and I couldn’t help the mental image I got of Cas’s body...feeling his warm skin against mine…causing him to gasp, or whimper…

I hadn’t taken notice that my hand had crept down the front of my boxers as my eyes remained closed. I slid my thumb over the tip of my dick, already half hard, and imagined, just for a moment, that it was another man’s hand around me. I pushed my hips up into my grip in a slow rolling motion, and for the first time allowed myself to picture sturdy legs straddling my lap. Thick arms pulling me into an embrace. This faceless stranger rode me as my eyes remained closed, my hand pumping myself in a quickening motion. I pulled myself free of the boxers, which were quickly becoming confining, and gently ran the fingertips of my free hand down my thigh. Imagining his hands, scrambling for purchase. Castiel’s h—

I let go of my dick immediately with a choked gasp, and it fell heavy against my stomach. It ached in protest at being abandoned. I couldn’t. I couldn’t jerk off to Cas. Letting myself imagine a man was difficult enough, but Cas…it wasn’t just wrong, it was creepy. I shouldn’t want to picture Cas’s thighs across my lap, his cheeks pink and his breath heavy. I shouldn’t want to feel the steady rhythm of his hips pushing him down around my co*ck, or his fingers gripping tightly at my skin as I stretched him open. I shouldn’t want to know what his own hard co*ck would look like, glistening with precum, or his pupils dilating as I pushed him over the edge, or what my name would sound like as a moan on his lips…

“sh*t-f*ck,” I gasped, and I was cumming. I was cumming, untouched, and harder than I had from masturbation alone in a long time. My limbs were jello and my head was light as I breathed heavily through it, refusing to touch myself, and the second I felt my heart slowing, the shame came.

I stared at the ceiling, shaking and nauseous. I silently cleaned myself up with a wad of tissues, unable to even look down as I did so. I tucked myself back into my boxers and thought for a second that I was going to have to make a beeline for the sink in the corner to puke. I couldn’t shake the disgust on my dad’s face that day so many years ago. He’d f*cking kill me if he was here now. And I was probably just as disgusted at myself as he would be. Castiel was only just down the hall, probably reading since he didn’t sleep, and I’d been jerking off to him like some old pervert. God, what if he’d sensed it?

My hands shook as I cleared my browser history like a teenager and stowed my laptop back in the nightstand. I couldn’t let myself think on it any longer or I was actually going to be sick.

I heard footsteps stop outside my door. Sam, it sounded like. Probably wanting to check on me. I quickly pulled my blanket up and rolled on to my side, closing my eyes. I wasn’t in the mood to talk.

I heard the door creak open just slightly, and I worked to take slow deep convincing breaths. There was silence for a second and then I heard my door click shut again as the footsteps carried on down the hall. “He’s still resting,” I heard him tell someone.

“His body and mind are exhausted.” This was Cas. “But he’s the strongest man I know.”

That made my heart stutter. Was I fragile or was I strong? I didn’t feel strong. No more than any other hunter. I just didn’t have the option to give up.

“He is…I just worry about him. He’s my big brother, ya know? He’s protected me my entire life. And it sucks that this is something I can’t protect him from.” There was a beat of silence. “Anyway. Night, man.” Sam yawned, and I heard his bedroom door close.

I sighed and rolled on to my back, rubbing my forehead. I didn’t want Sam worrying. I regretted blowing up and telling him just how bad my mental health really was. And I regretted not being able to pull myself together long enough that he didn’t have to witness my joke of a panic attack in the kitchen. Maybe I was losing my edge. But it’s not like I was the only one who had suffered. Sam had been to Hell too, and I suspected there was more to that situation with Lucifer than he’d ever tell me. He had done unspeakable things without a soul that he’d had to cope with once he was himself again. Hell, he’d gotten so bad he was hallucinating at one point. Yet here he was, functioning just fine now, despite all of it. I was the f*cked up brother who couldn’t handle my sh*t.

I laid awake listening to the sounds of the bunker settling for far too long. I heard a door shut, and then about twenty minutes later, another one. A distant cough. The sound of someone’s Netflix kicking on way too loud. And then eventually, silence. Just the sound of air moving through the vents.

I was awake with my shame, my fear, my embarrassment. My guilt. The fact that I’d machete’d the girl I’d been sleeping with not three feet from my bed earlier that same day was not lost on me, either. I knew going back to sleep was a lost cause after sleeping all day, no matter how tired I’d been.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed with a sigh and turned my bedside lamp on. At the very least, maybe a hot shower would take my mind off of everything. I stood and opened the top drawer of my dresser, grabbing a clean pair of boxers. Since everybody else was in their room for the night I didn’t bother with jeans. I opened my door and padded barefoot down the hall and through the darkened war room, to the staircase that led up to the bathroom. The minute I swung the locker room-esque door open, I realized one of the shower stalls was occupied.

“Sorry, Jack, didn’t realize you were still up,” I said uncomfortably, turning to duck back out before either of us saw something we didn’t want to see.

“Dean?” the gruff questioning voice that came from the stall made my blood run cold. A wet head poked almost comically around the curtain and I was very aware of my red plaid boxers. I was also aware of the strong bare arm that Cas used to sweep the water from his eyes to look at me.

“Cas,” I managed. Every nerve in my body was telling me to get the hell out of there, but I felt glued to the spot.

“I won’t be long,” he said in an apologetic tone, pulling the curtain shut again. “I’m sorry.”

“I thought you didn’t have to shower,” I blurted. Get the hell out of there, Dean, give the man some privacy.

He actually laughed at that. “I don’t have to, not really. But the heat is nice once in awhile. How are you feeling?”

I was grateful he could no longer see me, because my face felt so hot I was surprised it didn’t melt off. “I’m fine,” I said quickly. “I’m gonna, uh. Go. Let you finish. Your shower, I mean. I, uh. Yeah.”

If Cas noticed my strange behavior, he didn’t bring it up. “I can let you know when I’m finished, if you’d like,” he said through the curtain.

“I’ll just take one in the morning, thanks anyway, man,” I said quickly. I uprooted myself and immediately turned out the door, took the stairs two at a time back down to the main level, and shut the door to my room a little too hard.

Chapter 6

Chapter Text

October 31st was usually a case day for us. Vengeful spirits tended to come out with more fury around this time of year, and dumb ass teenagers trying to have a good time were also more prone to summoning sh*t they couldn’t stuff back in the box. Not sure who’d raised these assholes to think messing around with demons was a good idea of spooky fun, but sometimes they ended up with more than they bargained for.

Because of this, Sam and I sat at the table in the study looking through the local news. We were searching for anything that stuck out, with no such luck. A bowl of mini candy bars sat between us, but I was the only one with a pile of wrappers in front of me. I rolled my eyes at him, pretending to be annoyed that he wouldn’t indulge, but I wasn’t really. It just meant more for me.

“Hey,” I finally said, flicking a wadded up Tootsie Roll wrapper at him. “Nothing comes up, what do you say we hunker down, have a scary movie marathon? Maybe show Cas Saw.”

“Or maybe something a little less gory?” Sam suggested, wincing. He tossed the wrapper back at me half-heartedly. “One of the classics?”

I stared at him. “Dude. It’s Halloween. Don’t be a buzzkill. Gore is the only way.” It seemed cliché of me, but given our occupation, ghost and demon movies did nothing for me anymore. The thought of Crowley crawling backwards down the stairs Exorcist style was laughable. Humans were the real monsters.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Sure. Sounds good. I’ll let Jack know he can come sleep in your room when he has nightmares.”

“The kid has literally been to visit Hell. I think he can handle some 2004 special effects.”

As if he’d been summoned, Jack walked quickly into the study. He looked like a man on a mission; he wore a resolute expression on his face like he was prepared to engage in a debate. He stopped in front of the table and waited patiently until one of us had to speak up.

“Uh, what’s up?” I asked.

“I want to go Trick or Treating,” he replied firmly.

Sam eyed me over the top of his laptop, and I knew what he was thinking.

“Trick or Treating?” I asked carefully, making sure to betray nothing in my tone.

“Yes,” Jack grinned. “Every year, I know that children get to go house to house on Halloween and get candy. I’d like to do that too.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Jack, uh, usually the kids that go Trick or Treating--”

I immediately kicked him hard under the table, and he grunted and shot me a look.

“They what?” Jack asked, looking crestfallen. His eyes, which had been crinkled at the corners with a smile, now looked large and sad.

“They have to have a costume,” I finished quickly. “If you wanna go Trick or Treating, we have to get you a costume, kiddo.”

Jack immediately perked back up. “I can make one! I watched a movie the other day where a child dressed up as a ghost using a bedsheet.” His brow furrowed for a brief moment. “I’m not sure why, because ghosts aren’t white and shapeless, but everybody in the movie seemed to love it. Do we have a spare bedsheet?”

My heart warmed at a distant memory at his mention of the bedsheet ghost. “I’m sure we can scrounge one up,” I smiled. “Maybe check the hall closet?”

“Cool! I’ll go tell Cas.” He grinned back happily at me before taking off back down the hallway, a spring in his step.

Sam continued to stare at me until I sighed. “What?”

“Dean, he’s too old to go Trick or Treating.”

“He’s not too old, he’s four,” I argued.

“He’s also 5’11,” Sam replied doubtfully. “He’s going to get made fun of.”

“Let some little brat make fun of him,” I scowled. “I’m not above some good old fashioned corporal punishment.”

“Dude. You can’t spank a random kid.”

“Why do you care if he goes Trick or Treating?” I snapped.

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Why are you getting hostile about it?”

I sighed. “Sorry. I just…I wanna see him get to be a kid, man. He’s been in the life since day one. Hunting, smiting, saving the world. He’s technically God now and I’m not even 100% sure he knows how sex works. He can’t use a can opener. I just want him to have any amount of normalcy we can give him. I want to keep him innocent as long as I can.”

Sam nodded at that, realization dawning. “Like you did for me.”

I was instantly thrown back to being eight years old. When Sam was only four himself. Carefully cutting jagged eye holes in a faded motel sheet with a pocket knife while Dad was passed out drunk on one of the beds. Sammy giggling and me putting a finger to my lips as he squirmed in his chair with a grin. The motel we’d been staying at was having a “Trunk or Treat” in the parking lot and I’d wanted nothing more than for him to get to experience it. I’d put the sheet over his head and took his hand, picking up a plastic grocery bag and handing it to him as we ducked out the door. The kid had raked in candy in his homemade ghost costume. The adults had questioned where mine was, and offered me candy anyway, but I’d told them just to put it in Sam’s bag. If anything, the candy would be something to put in our stomachs on the nights Dad forgot dinner.

“Yeah,” I said, smiling fondly at the memory. “Like I did for you. Look, I know you hate holidays because they sucked. But I did my best, okay? I always made sure you had them, one way or another.”

He looked down. “I know you did. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m glad I did it. I’m just saying I want to make sure Jack gets them if he wants them too.”

As I said that, Jack came back into the room with Cas trailing him. He was holding a sheet triumphantly. “I found this!”

“Well go on then, get it over your head,” I said, gesturing. “Sammy, grab us some scissors?”

Sam stood and went to the cabinet in the corner, rifling around for a minute before coming back with a pair of scissors. He handed them to me, shaking his head with a smile.

“Now listen,” I said firmly as Jack scrambled to put the sheet over himself. “I don’t want to stab you in the eye, so you need to put your hands up over them.” I covered my own to demonstrate. “And hold really still, got it?”

He finished pulling the sheet over his head, and the white blob nodded. I watched his arms creep up under it until I could see the outline of his hands over his face.

Cas smiled at me over Jack’s shoulder. I felt his eyes on us as I carefully cut holes over where Jack’s fingers were, my tongue between my teeth in concentration, before taking a step back to make sure they were even. “Alright,” I finally said, clapping him on the back. “You look like one hell of a ghost if I’ve ever seen one.”

“You have seen one,” Jack laughed, his blue eyes peering out at me. Blue eyes so much like Cas’s, sometimes I forgot they weren’t truly father and son. He pulled the sheet off his head and grinned. His hair stood on end comically, and Cas reached forward and smoothed it down.

“What time should I take him?” he asked, looking to me. “I’m not familiar with the specifics.”

“Hey, hey, we’re all going,” I replied. “You really think I’d miss this? And it usually starts at 6.” I reached down and tapped my phone screen to check the time. “So you’ve got about an hour before we need to head out.”

“Good. Long enough for me to scope out which houses have nougat,” Jack said happily.

Cas frowned. “That’s not a necessary use of your powers. Having the ability to see all isn’t something I want you to take lightly, Jack.”

“He’s finding the good candy bars, not telling us the winning Powerball numbers,” I laughed. But then I hesitated, turning to him quickly. “Wait. Could you do that?”

“Dean,” Cas said in frustration.

“Sorry, sorry. Listen to Cas, kid. He’s an angel, he knows what he’s talking about.”

Jack huffed. “Fine.”

“Fix your face,” I said, ruffling his hair back into a mess. I grinned at Cas as I did so. “We’ll make sure you rake in regardless. We’ll hit the rich people. And go put some long sleeves and thick socks on, it’s cold out.”

“Heck yeah.”

Cas looked exasperated, but he smiled at me as Jack walked off clutching the sheet in his hands. “You’ve made his night,” he informed me.

I shrugged. “Just wanna see him have some fun.”

“You’re good to him, Dean.” His eyes softened. “I’m grateful he has you.”

“Yeah, well, who am I to tell God no?” I joked, squirming under his gaze.

Cas scoffed at that. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

I smirked at him. “Yeah, yeah. Go find your son a grocery bag.”

****
In the end, we ended up hitting damn near every house in Lebanon. Jack was having the time of his life, and with his three scary looking dads walking behind him, not one person said anything negative to him. In fact, people couldn’t help but be endeared. I was worried at first, because he kept taking the hands of random children and talking to them; as innocent of a gesture as it was, he was the size of a grown man and it did look kinda creepy without any inside knowledge. But whether it was his angelic charm or people just thought he was special needs, the parents of all the children he talked to adored him. Maybe they sensed who he was, on some unconscious level.

I’d never admit it, but I had fun too. Seeing so many adults walking around dressed as their favorite movie monsters kind of made me wish I’d bought a costume for myself. I played dress up for a living, how would this have been any different? I could’ve Michael Myers’d that sh*t.

Something caught my eye at that moment, and my jaw dropped. “Dude. Dude. Look,” I hissed, grabbing Sam’s sleeve. “Look. To your right. It’s Hatchetman.”

Sam turned, and grinned when he saw him. “Do you want his autograph?” He laughed, and I scowled. I couldn’t be too grumpy though. I was just glad to see him lighten up. He’d been subdued most of the night but I honestly didn’t blame him; I knew my little brother was terrified of clowns, and everybody and their brother seemed to be sporting Pennywise costumes tonight.

Towards the end of the night, he offered to go retrieve the Impala from where we’d parked it and bring it back to us. No sooner than he’d left, however, a woman approached Cas and me. “Is that your son?” she asked, pointing to Jack on the porch of the nearest house.

I met her eyes to see who she was looking at, and to my shock her gaze was moving between the both of us.

“Yes,” Cas replied obliviously.

She smiled. “He’s so polite and well behaved. You two have done well in raising him.”

“Thank you,” Cas said, and the woman smiled at him before taking her daughter’s hand and walking on to the next house with its porch light on.

“She thought we were together,” I blurted, staring at him.

Cas looked at me curiously. “We are.”

“As in a couple,” I hissed.

Something flickered across his face for a fraction of a second. “Oh,” he said in an offhand tone. He didn’t offer anything further.

“You didn’t correct her,” I said indignantly.

He sighed. “You didn’t either. And it is the 21st century, Dean. I can think of things far more offensive than a woman thinking we’re a couple raising a child together. I’m sorry it bothered you.” He turned his attention to Jack as he returned, his bag of candy nearly full to the brim. “Have you had your fill, Jack?”

You didn’t either. His words echoed in my mind. He was right, I hadn’t. Why not?

“I think I have enough,” Jack said, looking down at the bag with a calculating gaze.

“Did you have fun?” I asked pulling my attention back to the scene at hand.

I saw his eyes crinkle through the holes in the sheet. “For sure. Thank you for helping me, Dean.” He stepped forward and hugged me, and I put an arm back around him for a moment.

“‘Course, kid. This is the first Halloween in years I haven’t been in a cemetery. I’ll take this any day.”

The three of us began walking in the general direction of where we knew Sam would be coming from. Maybe we could meet him halfway.

“Why doesn’t Sam like holidays?” Jack asked suddenly.

I sighed. “Growing up, our holidays were a lot different than what we get now. Dad never really had time for that kind of stuff, ya know?”

“You never got to Trick or Treat?”

I smiled somewhat. “Nah. It’s cool though.”

“But you still like holidays.” The way Jack analyzed me sometimes, it felt like I was under a microscope.

“I guess people react to experiences differently,” I shrugged. “Sam shut down the idea of holidays, and I love 'em.”

“Because you get to feel like a child again?”

I shifted uncomfortably. “I mean yeah, sure.”

“Would you like to wear my ghost costume?” He asked sincerely, offering it to me.

I laughed at that. “I appreciate it, but I’m alright. Hey, I hear Baby. Sam’s close.”

As I said the words, the Impala rolled into view. It moved slow among the sea of kids and I watched with narrowed eyes as a few of them waved plastic lightsabers at it. “If they touch my car…” I growled.

I heard Cas's sigh next to me, but when I looked at him one corner of his mouth was pulled up in a smile.

Thankfully, the kids’ mothers pulled them out of the way as Sam sidled the car up to the curb. I opened the passenger seat door and got in, all the while maintaining eye contact with the nine year old Luke Skywalker. He needed to know I meant business.

Jack and Cas slid into the backseat and we edged our way back into the road at a crawl.

“How’d you make out, Jack?” Sam asked, glancing in the rearview mirror at him.

“Pretty good, I’d say. I have plenty of nougat.” He shook the bag for emphasis.

“Gotta have nougat,” Sam agreed, nodding seriously.

“It’s essential,” I added, grinning. I was so glad he’d enjoyed himself. Jack’s short life had already been filled with so much loss and grief. I hated taking him hunting. Even though he was a hell of a lot more powerful than either Sam or me, all I thought when he went on hunts with us was how we were doing his childhood the way our dad had done ours. Little things like this were important. I hoped that hundreds of thousands of years from now, he’d look back on that guy he lived with for a while who took him out for Halloween for the first time and smile. I hoped he’d remember the good— remember the sticky little hands he’d held and the crying babies he’d soothed, and never ever get complacent or apathetic about humanity like his grandfather had. Long after Sam and I were gone, Jack was going to be our last remaining mark on this Earth. I wanted it to be a good one. And in this moment, as he curled up in the backseat breaking open a candy bar and offering a piece to each of us, fuzzy purple socks pulled up over his pants legs, I knew it was going to be.

Chapter 7

Chapter Text

The following weeks passed in a slow haze. We hadn’t found a true case since the disastrous vampire mishap and I was itching for a hunt. I’d fallen off the bike so to speak, sure, but it did me no good not to jump back on. Jack was getting antsy as well, which was never a good thing. His power was unmatched, and even just high anxiety could be unintentionally disastrous. I felt for the kid. The only faces he ever saw anymore were mine, Sam’s, and Cas’s. So when Jody invited all of us, Eileen, and Bobby over for Thanksgiving, it was impossible to say no.

“Are you sh*tting me, of course we’ll be there!” I grinned. I was holding the cell phone to my ear with my cheek as I quickly transferred my damp clothes to the dryer.

I heard Jody’s smile creep into her voice. “Great! I’ve missed you boys. And I need an updated mental image of you anyway, because the last one was not exactly in my top ten.”

“For you and me both,” I frowned, slamming the dryer lid and pushing the start button. I took the phone back into my hand and hauled the basket of Sam’s gargantuan freshly laundered flannels up under my arm. “Hold on. You got a top ten?”

I could practically see the eye roll as she replied. “Don’t push it, slick. Anyway, I’ll buy a second turkey today,” she said excitedly. “sh*t, I need to clean, too. Alex will be home on break; it’ll be so nice to have a full house.”

“Jody, you know you don’t have to clean for us,” I laughed. I couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm for her family. Jody had lost everything. Her husband, her son. Knowing she had the girls to keep her company was comforting. She’d adopted every stray she could get her hands on, us included. She was a prime example of Bobby’s mantra: Family don’t end with blood.

****

“Sammy, make sure there’s room in the trunk for the wheelchair!” I called up the stairs to the garage, where Sam was loading Baby up with his overnight bag. We were going to grab Bobby on the way; we’d offered to scoop up Eileen too, but she’d insisted on driving herself. I couldn’t imagine why, we were a fun crowd.

“We’re good,” Sam called back, and I made a noise of approval before jogging down the hallway to rap on Jack’s bedroom door.

“Hey, kid, you about ready?” I asked.

He opened the door, a backpack slung over his shoulder and a grin on his face. “Yep! All set.”

“Go ahead and take your bag up to Sam, then,” I said. “And pee if you gotta, I don’t want to stop an hour in.” Jack nodded and darted off. His excitement was palpable.

I hesitated a second before walking a few doors down to knock on Cas’s.

He opened it almost immediately, looking at me questioningly. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” I assured him. “Why’s something always gotta be wrong?”

“With our lives?” he countered.

“Okay, yeah, fair point.” I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “Are you sure you don’t want to come along, man?” The thought of him being alone on Thanksgiving while the rest of us ate and drank and had a grand old time was like a knife in my stomach.

“Dean, my relationship with Claire is often strained at the best of times,” he said with a gentle smile. “I don’t want to put her through sitting across from me at a family holiday, when I’m not her father. She’s made it clear before that it’s hard for her to be around me for extended periods of time. Imagine I wore Mary’s face. Or your father’s.”

“I’d rather not,” I grimaced. The thought was all kinds of messed up, especially regarding my feelings. I sighed. “I just…what are you going to do?”

“I’ll probably read some, maybe watch the parade,” he said. For whatever reason, Cas loved watching the Macy’s Day Parade on Thanksgiving morning every year. This was the first time since he’d moved in that we weren’t all going to be here watching it together.

I looked down at the toe of my boots. I didn’t want to beg him, and I knew he was right about the Claire situation, but it still really sucked ass. “Well,” I finally said after an uncomfortable beat of silence. “I guess we’re going to head out then. If you change your mind, don’t be afraid to flap your wings and show up, ya know?”

Cas cuffed my shoulder, and I felt the hum of angelic energy radiate down my arm. I held back a shiver. “Have fun, Dean. You deserve it,” he replied.

“Yeah,” I said quickly, clearing my throat and turning back up the hallway. I felt eyes on my back, and it was a few seconds before I heard the door click shut again.

I adjusted the strap of my duffel bag further up on my shoulder as I made my way up to the garage level of the bunker. Cas’s touch still danced across my skin, raising goosebumps. When I neared the top of the stairs, Sam was taking Jack’s backpack from him to load up in the trunk.

“Alright, we ready?” I asked, clapping my hands together.

Sam swept his hair back from his eyes, looking just past me as if he expected Cas to be standing in my shadow. “Still a no, huh?”

I shook my head, biting the inside of my cheek as I dumped my duffel bag into the trunk next to Jack’s backpack.

“Load up, campers, I said, slamming the trunk and patting it affectionately.

Jack happily slid in behind the passenger seat. He couldn’t wait to see everyone, and I didn’t blame him. I walked around to the driver’s side and sank into the worn leather seat in contentment. In a way, Sam and I had a life that we’d not thought possible. We were taking a road trip to see our family for the holidays. We had a family to spend the holidays with, which was damn near unheard of for Hunters. Jack, Bobby, Eileen, Jody, Claire, Alex, Kaia. The only person missing was…

I looked in the rearview mirror at the empty seat next to Jack and sighed, turning the keys in the ignition.

****

Five extremely long hours of listening to Sam and Jack play the Alphabet game later, we were pulling up the bumpy dirt road that led to Bobby’s house right outside of Sioux Falls.

“I’ll go get him,” Sam volunteered, opening his door. “Be back in a sec.” As he climbed out and strode towards the unassuming old mid-century farm house, I heard Jack shift in the backseat.

“Why didn’t Cas want to come?” he asked.

I turned around to look at him, and his face was sullen. “He didn’t want to make things harder on Claire,” I said. “Ya know, be reminded of past Thanksgivings with her dad while spending it with the guy using his face.”

“You wanted Cas to come,” he replied matter-of-factly. “I could tell.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “I mean yeah, so did Sam. Didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he said, then paused. “But this feels different.”

“Don’t know how it would be,” I grunted, swiveling back around to face forward. My ears felt hot.

There was no time to discuss it further, however, because Sam was approaching with Bobby. I grinned at the sight of the grouchy old man. He’d insisted on wheeling himself along the uneven gravel driveway as usual, and held a plastic grocery bag in his lap. Sam walked uselessly beside him, smiling at something he was saying. He jogged ahead the last few feet and opened the passenger side door, allowing Bobby to wheel up next to the car.

“Heya, Bobby,” I said, accepting the grocery bag that Sam was extending. I passed it back to Jack. “It’s good to see you.”

Sam knelt and pulled Bobby’s feet off the leg rests, moving them back and out of the way. He put his arms around him and pulled him to a standing position, and Bobby braced himself against the side of the car as Sam maneuvered him around until he could drop into the passenger seat.

“It’s real good to see you boys too,” he finally replied, somewhat out of breath. Sam carefully moved his legs forward into the car before shutting the passenger door, and I popped the trunk for him.

“What’s in your goody bag?” I questioned, jabbing my thumb towards the backseat where it sat next to Jack.

“Change of clothes, toothbrush, deodorant. A lot more practical than the checked luggage you princesses probably brought.” His tone was teasing. “Hi, Jack,” he added, turning slightly in his seat.

“Hi Bobby!” Jack replied cheerfully.

Sam opened the rear car door and slid in next to Jack, and for a second I debated asking if he wanted to drive since his legs were so much longer than mine. The thought didn’t last long, however. What could I say, I had trust issues.

“It’s nice to see you in one piece and somewhat sane, Dean,” Bobby said once we were back out on the freeway. “Sounds like you’ve had a hell of a couple months. Dissected by vamps, sanity sucked out by some she-devil? A couple more and I’ll be able to finish my Bingo card.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I grumbled. “I’m good. Swearing off women, swearing off ever touching raw hamburger meat again, too.”

Bobby flinched. “We’re just lucky Cas was there for that one,” he sighed. “Speaking of, where is the little harpist? Not a fan of stuffing?”

I laughed at the thought of Cas descending from the heavens, trench coat and all, playing a harp. “He’s hanging back. Didn’t wanna make things weird for Claire.”

“Didn’t think of that,” he agreed.

“How have you been, though, Bobby?” Sam asked.

“Oh, you know, out running marathons and the like. What do you think I’ve been doing? Besides playing phone operator, all I’ve succeeded in is gainin’ 15 pounds and watching the QVC.”

“Nah, you’re as fit as ever, Bobby,” I grinned. “Nothing slows you down.”

He scoffed, sitting back in his seat and looking out the window. “Bet your ass.”

****

Sam’s POV:

After picking Bobby up we had less than a half hour’s drive to Jody’s, for which I was grateful. Uncomfortable was an understatement when it came to fitting my large frame into the backseat. As we finally turned on to her familiar street, I couldn’t help but smile. She had truly become a mother of sorts to us over the years. And after our own mom had died, again, having her want us over for Thanksgiving was especially heartwarming.

“Pull off to the left, Eileen’s still about an hour out,” I told Dean as the Impala rumbled up into the driveway. Once we were parked and he’d killed the engine, I quickly untangled myself from the backseat and stood stiffly before going around to the trunk and waiting for Dean to pop it.

I saw Jody’s front door open as I threw my overnight bag over my shoulder and unfolded the wheelchair, bringing it around to the passenger side door where Bobby was waiting.

“Hi boys!” she said excitedly, coming down the steps and running to us barefoot across the lawn. “Here, how can I help? Give me something to carry.”

Before I could protest she’d pulled my bag off of my arm and taken the plastic grocery bag out of Bobby’s lap.

“Hi Jody,” I laughed, carefully helping Bobby out of the car and into his chair while Jack held it still.

Once Bobby was seated, she leaned down and squeezed him tight. “It’s good to see you, Bobby,” she smiled, kissing his cheek.

He made a gruff sound of embarrassment and I looked over the top of the car at Dean, who waggled his eyebrows at me. We’d often wondered if there was something going on there.

“It’s so nice to see you whole again, Dean,” she said suddenly, her voice thick with emotion. She quickly went around the other side of the car to hug him. “God, I’m so glad you’re feeling better.”

“Psh, like some vamp could take me out,” Dean said teasingly. “Not a scratch, see?” He raised his shirt.

“Quit flashing the lady and get your bag so we can get inside, idjit,” Bobby said, rolling his eyes. He pushed off suddenly towards the door, and Jack let go of the handles in surprise.

“Somebody’s jealous,” Dean whispered, and Jody gave him an affectionate elbow in the ribs. “And put some shoes on, Jody, you trying to get frostbite?”

“I’m fine,” she laughed. “No snow yet.” She looked around and seemed to notice for the first time that Castiel wasn’t there. “Where’s Cas?” she asked, her smile falling slightly.

I saw Dean pause for a second as he reached for his backpack. “He’s, uh. Hanging back this time,” he said, handing Jack the last duffel bag and closing the trunk.

“What? Why!” Jody sounded crestfallen.

“He thought it would be hard for Claire to see Jimmy Novak across the turkey like old times,” he replied with a shrug.

Jody looked disappointed. “Yeah, that makes sense, I guess. Come on in, guys. I ordered pizza.”

We crossed the yard to where Bobby was waiting impatiently by the porch. Dean and I carefully lifted his chair up the two steps before sitting him down on the concrete, allowing him to roll himself over the threshold while Jody held the door.

As we walked into the house, three heads turned from the living room. “Dean,” Claire said, trying to look nonchalant. “You look better than the last time I saw you.” But she wasn’t fooling any of us. I remembered how messed up she’d been. How Jody had called me that night after we got Dean changed and into bed, telling me Claire was catatonic on the bathroom floor. How she’d been blaming herself.

“Yeah, I keep hearing that,” Dean said, sauntering forward into the living room to lean down and give her a bear hug.

She resisted returning it for a minute, trying to play it cool, but then her face went into the front of his jacket. “Damn it,” she said, voice somewhat choked. “Glad you’re okay.” She sniffled once before pushing him away, scowling.

“Hey, no tears,” Dean said, ruffling her hair. “We’re all far too sober for that crap.” He nudged her over on the couch, and she and Kaia scooted to make room for him.

Jack sat down on the floor timidly next to Alex, who was on the phone with someone. She waved at us all, smiling. I dragged a dining room chair in and parked it next to Bobby. It felt nice to stretch my legs out in front of me. Jody flopped into the recliner, gesturing to the several boxes of pizza on the coffee table. “Seriously, eat. There’s meat lovers, cheese, and breadsticks. Sam, the veggie one is yours and Alex’s.”

I smiled at her. I wasn’t strictly vegetarian, but Jody knew my preferences. The fact that she remembered those little things about me made me feel good.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Dean enthused, leaning forward to pull the box of meat lovers pizza towards himself. He grabbed a slice, making a noise far too sensual for a piece of pizza as he bit into it.

“Hey, share some of that, boy,” Bobby complained. Dean clenched his already half eaten piece between his teeth and tore two off for him, handing him the plate.

“Pass me the plates, Jack?” Alex asked, holding her phone away from her face for a second. She hesitated and bit her lip. “Please, I mean.”

Jack turned pink. “Of course,” he said.

I frowned as I realized what was happening. I hated the way everyone acted intimidated by Jack or treated him like a ticking time bomb. He’d proven time and time again he was capable of amazing things. Good things. That’s why it was so frustrating that Dean wouldn’t let him go on hunts after his accident. He hadn’t meant to kill the man; he didn’t have a mean bone in his body. He’d grown into his powers and learned to control them far better since that day. Hell, he’d saved the world. Jack was no monster, and he was far from just another dick with wings. It often felt like we were the only ones who truly understood that.

“Where’s Eileen?” Claire asked suddenly. “And Castiel?”

“Eileen’s on her way,” I said slowly, glancing at Jody.

“Honey, Cas thought it would be easiest for you if he weren’t here for a holiday,” Jody said gently. “He didn’t want to unnecessarily stir up any sad memories.”

“Well where’s he at?” She looked disappointed.

“He’s back at the bunker,” Dean said. “Said something about watching the parade in the morning.”

Claire sighed. “I got used to seeing him wear my dad a long time ago. Holidays aren’t any different; Dad’s not in there with him. Hell, I’ve known him as Cas longer than I knew him as my dad at this point, anyway. I don’t want the little dork sitting alone in a bunker on Thanksgiving, that’s depressing even for him.”

I saw Dean sit up a little straighter on the couch. “Really? You sure?”

“Yeah. Call him. No point in him missing out, ya know?” She threw a couch pillow at Alex. “Yo, get off the phone. Your stupid sorority sisters can’t respect a holiday?”

Alex glared at her. “Thanksgiving’s not until tomorrow. Piss off.”

“Alex, it’s family time, honey. Wrap it up,” Jody said with a pointed look.

Claire gave Alex a smug smile, and Alex threw the pillow back at her a little too hard.

Dean was fishing his cell phone out of his pocket, oblivious to their sibling drama. He tapped the screen a couple times and then held the phone to his ear with a smile. “Hey! Yeah, man, everything’s fine. Claire said you can come on over.” He paused for a second, his smile falling as Cas presumably argued with him. “No, really. She’s cool with it. She—”

Claire sighed and held out her hand for the phone, and Dean passed it to her. “Castiel. Hi, good to hear your voice too. Would you get your feathery ass over here, please? You’ve got a crowd of people awaiting your arrival. No, it’s not going to bother me. Yes, I promise. Come on. Okay. See you in a minute. Bye.” She hung up and handed the phone back to Dean. “He’ll be here momentarily. You can quit the silent pining.”

Dean choked on a piece of pizza crust. “Excuse me?” he coughed.

Everyone laughed at Claire’s joke, but my brother’s face was stormy. I raised my eyebrows at him, silently asking what his deal was, and he scowled and looked away.

Jack flinched suddenly, which caught all of our attention. “What’s wrong?” I asked, my stomach sinking. Couldn’t we just have this without something going wrong for once?

He waved me down, putting a hand to his head. “Just Angel radio. Jody, Cas would really appreciate it if you’d break your warding. He can’t get on the property.”

I sighed in relief, and I saw the tension leave Dean’s shoulders as well. He’d been worried too.

“Shoot!” Jody said, standing quickly. “I’m an idiot, I completely forgot. It never affected you, so I didn’t even think about it.”

“Jack’s immune to angel warding,” I said, and Jack looked embarrassed, like that was something to be ashamed of. I saw Alex’s eyes widen and she stiffened next to him. “It’s actually pretty amazing,” I added, seeing her reaction. “He’s incredible.”

He gave me a small smile of thanks.

Jody walked over to the large decorative mirror next to her door and carefully took it down, revealing an intricate warding sigil. She reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a folded knife, scratching a break in the paint.“One more,” she said, grinning sheepishly. She bounded up the stairs and I heard what sounded like a heavy bookshelf or dresser being shoved across the floor.

A few seconds later, there was the familiar sound of wings and Castiel was standing uncomfortably in the middle of the living room. “Hello,” he said, nodding to everyone before awkwardly stepping back out of the way of the television.

Dean smiled widely. “Pull up a chair, Cas.”

Jody came down the stairs then, and grinned when she saw him. “Cas! I’m glad you’re here.” She hugged him to her, and he hesitated a second before wrapping his arms back around her.

“Thank you for having me, Jody,” he replied. He turned to the others. “Alex, Kaia. Bobby. Claire.” He smiled slightly when he looked at her, and she raised her eyebrows.

“Pizza?” She replied.

“No, thank you,” he said, retreating to the dining room and returning with a chair. “Thank you for allowing me to spend this time with all of you.”

“Yeah, couldn’t let you miss out on the celebration of Native genocide,” Claire said, raising her pop as if to toast him.

“It was very tragic,” Cas agreed solemnly. “We were prohibited from stepping foot on Earth at that time. The magnitude of the slaughter was felt all throughout Heaven.”

“On that cheery note,” Dean interrupted, shooting Cas a look. “I’m ready to get drunk. What’s Thanksgiving morning without nursing a hangover over a piece of pumpkin pie?”

****

Several hours and bottles of whiskey later, all of us except Claire, Jack, and Kaia were sitting around Jody’s dining room table. The three youngest had gone upstairs in annoyance to watch a movie after being told Jack wasn’t going to be allowed to get sh*t faced, and that two beers were plenty.

“We can risk our lives and help save the world, but getting drunk is where you draw the line?” Claire grumbled. “Come on, Jack.”

It was a difficult situation because there was no denying Jack was extraordinary, and we’d be lying if we said we hadn’t given him alcohol before. In many ways he was an adult. But in many ways he was still a very small child. Mentally and morally, he was very innocent and black and white. If it were up to us, he would be about four years old and having us tuck him into bed, but being dealt the hand we had, we wanted him to at least experience some type of “childhood”. And kids didn’t get drunk.

The rest of us were all far too drunk, but it had been so long since we’d been able to get together that none of us really cared. By the time Eileen had made it, everyone already had a buzz, and it only went downhill after that.

“Listen, guys, you’ve gotta help me out,” Jody suddenly said, putting her hand down hard on the table. Her abrupt somber tone made everyone snicker against our will, and she frowned. “This is serious!”

“Sorry, sorry, this is my serious face,” Dean said, putting a stoic scowl on for a few seconds before losing it and sitting back in his chair, laughing even harder. I knew he’d reached his limit because he usually handled his alcohol well, and to see him as a giddy drunk was downright hilarious.

“Sorry, Jody,” I laughed, wiping tears from my eyes. “What’s going on?” I truly tried to maintain my composure, but I knew my quivering lips were giving me away. Eileen squeezed my hand under the table and grinned at me as I fought back another fit of laughter.

Jody bit her lip. “I think Kaia and Claire are having sex.”

This set off a fresh round of hysterics from everyone at the table except Castiel, who looked for all the world like he was preparing to give a safe sex Ted Talk on the very important matter.

“Jody, don’t air their dirty laundry,” Alex groaned, putting her head on her arm.

“No, Alex, this is major! They’re living in the same house! They share a room while you’re home from school! I wouldn’t let a boy sleep here, but this situation is so different because they’re both my girls. How do I set up clear boundaries and expectations?”

“Leave ‘em be, Jody, they’re old enough to have sex,” Dean chuckled. “Not like they can get pregnant at least. Glass half full, right?”

“Old enough? They’re just kids!” Jody protested.

“Not like any of us were saints as teenagers,” Bobby grinned, taking another swig of beer. “’Cept Sam, maybe.”

“Hey now,” I laughed, mock offended. “One of us had to be. Lord knows Dean wasn’t.”

“And Jody’s delusional if she thinks we don’t know she was getting it on at eighteen,” Dean said pointedly.

“They’re my girls!” Jody repeated indignantly, her words slurring just enough to send everyone giggling again. “I want to be sex positive. But I don’t want them thinking it’s a free for all in my house, either. Should I buy them dental dams?”

“Dental what?” Dean and Bobby asked simultaneously, blank expressions on their face.

I choked on my beer, and Eileen started slapping my back as I coughed. She frowned at me, but I couldn’t help it. Between Jody’s dead serious statement and Dean and Bobby’s identical looks of confusion, it had been too much.

“Oh dear Lord,” Alex sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Please go get tested.”

“Dean, if you don’t mind me asking, how old were you? I’m trying to figure out how to approach it with them,” Jody said, pushing the issue.

Dean yawned, and I smelled the whiskey on his breath from across the table. “Oh, uh. Fourteen.”

I stared hard at him. As far as I’d known, he’d been seventeen and it had been Amanda Heckerling. He’d locked me out of the motel room for two hours.

“Fourteen?” Jody blinked. “You were having sex in middle school?”

Dean looked somewhat uncomfortable, but he shrugged. “Did what I had to do.”

“What the hell does that mean, Dean?” I blurted without thinking, and I could see everyone else was sobering up quickly and looking at him in concern.

“It’s not that deep, man. I had to put groceries on the table when Dad was away for a long time.” He took a drink of beer and looked away.

“By prostituting yourself out to your junior high?” Bobby bellowed. I could tell he was about half a second from losing it; his face was nearly purple with rage.

Dean did look surprised at this. “What? Nah. Most of them were in their twenties. I think.”

I felt like I was going to vomit. I stared wordlessly at him, waiting for him to burst back into laughter and say it was some demented joke, that of course he hadn’t been doing that sh*t at fourteen. But he just sat there, looking around at all of us into the silence. Eileen still held my hand under the table and I was dimly aware that she’d stopped running her thumb across my skin.

“Oh, honey,” Jody finally whispered. Her voice was choked with tears.

“Dean,” Eileen said softly, moving like she was going to reach across the table for his hand as well and thought better of it.

Castiel couldn’t have been sitting more still if he’d been a marble statue; the veins in the back of his hand were prominent as his clenched fist rested on the table.

“If John wasn’t f*ckin’ dead, I’d kill him,” Bobby said after a long silence. “I mean it. I’d kill him.” His expression was murderous, and in that moment, I didn’t doubt his words.

Dean shifted uncomfortably. “Let’s just drop it.” He took another long drink from his beer, but no one’s eyes left him. I wanted so badly to speak up, to apologize for what he’d had to go through to provide for me, but I didn’t trust my voice.

Cas’s jaw worked for a moment, like he was conflicted on whether he wanted to speak, then finally he turned to Dean. “If I had been who I am now…if I had viewed you and Sam as more than just vessels and future weapons…I could have taken the two of you. I could have gotten you away from him. You’d have been better off in foster care, or I—I could’ve taken care of you—” His voice sounded agonized.

“Cas, don’t blame yourself,” I finally said. My voice was gravel. “You were the last person to ever owe us anything.”

“I wasn’t,” Bobby said softly, and when I looked at him he seemed ten years older. “I begged John to let me have you boys once I saw how obsessed he was gettin’. He kept you away because he saw how happy you were with me. It made him jealous, said I’d make you soft. I should’ve…I don’t know, tried harder...”

“If we don’t change the subject, I’m leaving,” Dean threatened. “Tell me what a dental dam is or I’m out the door.”

Realistically, I knew he wasn’t going anywhere. Any one of us would body slam him before letting him get behind the wheel in this shape. To humor him, however, Jody launched into a halfhearted explanation of the oral sex barrier. She tried to restore the mood, but the pink in her cheeks from the alcohol had vanished.

“So it’s a tongue condom,” Dean finally said doubtfully.

Her laugh was forced. “I guess so, yeah.” But none of the rest of us were able to pretend. I met Castiel’s eyes across the table where he sat next to my brother, and I saw the pain reflected in them. I knew he cared for Dean, probably as deeply as I did. I knew having to imagine him selling himself to much older women at fourteen for food was as unbearable to him as it was me. And in that moment I thanked the universe for allowing my brother to have a best friend who loved him like Cas did.

****

In the end, it would’ve been more comfortable if we’d just insisted on getting a motel room. Jody’s living room was not big enough for five adults to sleep comfortably, but we knew how important it was to her to have us all under one roof for the holiday.

She’d procured an impossible number of blankets for us to make up comfortable pallets on the carpet. Alex was the only one with a bedroom on the first floor, and she’d lent it to Bobby. She’d gone upstairs to room with Claire and Kaia for the night, which they didn’t look thrilled about, but they didn’t complain. We let Eileen take the couch, and I made up my bed on the ground at her feet. Jack was curled up in the recliner, almost fetal. I watched Dean drag his own blankets over next to the staircase so that his back wasn’t to the front door. It was a defense mechanism he’d held for as long as I could remember. Castiel sat in the adjoining room in one of the straight-backed dining room chairs, far enough way that it didn’t feel like he was going to be watching us sleep but close enough that Jody wouldn’t get upset that he’d left.

I stroked the back of Eileen’s hand in the darkness until I felt her grip in mine slacken, and I gently pulled my arm back down. Jack and Dean were already snoring. I watched my brother in the dim green glow from the cable box, thinking back to what he’d said after dinner. It made me sick. At fourteen, Dean should have been riding a bike with his friends. Having water balloon fights, setting off bottle rockets. Instead, he’d been raising me from inside motel rooms, going without so that I could eat, and prostituting himself to adults so that he could buy ravioli and cereal during those stretches where Dad seemed to all but forget we existed. At the time I never questioned how he always made sure I had something to eat, and as I got older I just gathered that he’d become proficient at stealing. Dad wasn’t even letting me come on most hunts at fourteen, and Dean had been through hell and back by then. There was no way to ever even attempt to make it up to my brother for everything he’d done for me. Losing his childhood, and his innocence, to keep the little brother who whined over the toy in the box of cereal safe and happy.

I thought back to how many times he’d taken falls meant for me with our dad. Dad had hardly ever touched me but I knew he’d hit Dean. I’d seen him hit Dean. The last time before Dean had begun fighting back, he’d been sixteen. I was twelve. He had gone out for the night, making me promise to lock the motel door behind him. Dad wasn’t supposed to be home for three more days. Not an hour after he’d left, I’d heard the Impala’s tires crunching gravel in the parking lot outside. I didn’t know what to tell him when he demanded to know where Dean was, and the way I’d gotten screamed at because he couldn’t believe I’d let my much older, much stronger brother leave the motel still stuck with me to this day. I didn’t know what he’d expected me to do to stop him. He’d dragged me to the car and we’d begun paroling the streets, Dad’s knuckles white on the steering wheel. I remember the look on his face when he got the phone call from one of his buddies that Dean had been spotted ducking into a sleazy bar downtown. I don’t think he obeyed a single traffic law on the way there. He’d pulled halfway up on to the curb in a no parking zone and left the car running as I sat there in fear for my brother.

When he finally did come out, he had an arm around Dean’s shoulders and a murderous expression on his face. He opened the back door to the car and Dean sank into the seat, holding his head in his hands. He was white as a sheet. Dad hadn’t been shy about telling me at the ripe age of twelve years old that a group of older women had drugged my brother to likely rape him. Now I wondered if he’d sought the bar out to sell his body for another loaf of bread. They exchanged no words on the way back to the motel. Once we were back I’d watched from the shadows as Dad had taken Dean into the bathroom and bent him over the toilet, shoving his fingers down his throat in an attempt to make him vomit, but his stomach had been so empty that nothing but bile came up. He had collapsed into the bed we shared that night with a cool washcloth on his forehead as he had no choice but to let the roofie run its course. I stayed up most of the night to make sure he kept breathing. I remember feeling a sense of relief that Dad was being somewhat kind to Dean, but I should’ve known it wouldn’t last.

The next morning I’d woken up to the muffled sounds of yelling outside. I’d jumped out of bed and looked through the peephole to see Dean raising his hands in surrender right before he caught a wicked right hook. His back hit the door hard and as he righted himself, I’d thrown the door open to glare daggers at my father. I wasn’t sure where the bravery had come from, maybe just years of watching Dean never be good enough for the man he defended to the ends of the earth, but I’d raised my fists and screamed “Get the hell away from him!”

I’d seen shock in both of their eyes and then Dad’s had narrowed, and Dean had grabbed the back of my shirt and yanked me behind him. “You’re not going to lay a hand on Sam,” he said, voice deathly serious. “Not now, not ever.”

I think after that day Dad realized that Dean was getting as tall as him, and likely wouldn’t stand for any more. Because for the most part, he kept his hands to himself. It was Dad and I who had begun fighting at that point, but the abuse had been verbal. I couldn’t keep track of the cruel things he’d flung at me over the course of my teenage years. How he’d made me miss my eighth grade graduation because getting through middle school was “not worth raising a big fuss over”. How on my sixteenth birthday he’d compared me to Dean and said I needed to get my shooting skills up to par or I’d never succeed in “the life”, despite me bringing home a report card with straight A’s earlier that week. How I knew better than to even ask to go to prom because the man still made his eighteen and twenty two year old sons share a bed rather than upgrading our motel room; there was no way I could get him to buy a suit.

And the fight that broke out the day I told them I’d been accepted to Stanford. How rather than congratulating me, Dad had told me that if I walked out the door I’d better never come back. And I couldn’t have been happier to comply. All I could think about was getting away. Away from hunting, away from living on the road, away from my father. I’d seen the betrayal in Dean’s eyes. The anger in my dad’s. And I left anyway. All the years Dean had protected me, and all I could think about was saving my own ass. Having my own life. Putting as much distance between myself and the “family business” as possible.

I laid awake for hours thinking on that, listening to the slow steady breathing of my family. Occasionally I heard Castiel shift in the next room. I could make out that Dean had started stirring, like he wasn’t resting well. He rolled on to his side and groaned. This was common. He always denied it when I asked, but I knew he had nightmares often. As long as he wasn’t having sex demon induced nightmares, he was going to be alright.

I heard a dining room chair scoot back and I closed my eyes quickly as Cas came into view. A stair creaked slightly, and I waited a minute before squinting one of my eyes back open.

Castiel wasn’t paying attention to me. He had sat down at the bottom of the stairs and was watching Dean intently. Slowly, hesitantly, he stretched an arm down and began smoothing Dean’s hair. The way he watched my brother betrayed no emotion, but his touch was tender. I could see the deep frown line between Dean’s eyes smooth out as Castiel gently ran his hand through his hair, and he let out a soft sigh in his sleep and burrowed deeper into his blanket, unconsciously turning his face up into Cas’s palm. Cas continued his slow gentle stroking until Dean’s breathing slowed and his cheek rested heavy in Cas’s hand.

I felt like I was intruding. I didn’t know what was going on, but I knew I wasn’t supposed to be seeing it. I closed my eyes and I heard Cas stand not long after, retreat into the dining room, and sit back down. When I dared open my eyes again Dean was sleeping peacefully, his face more relaxed than I’d seen him in years. Maybe Cas had worked his magic to make Dean sleep better. Maybe he’d calmed him through his dreams. Deep down however, I knew no angelic powers had been involved. Cas didn’t need to touch Dean to do that. And I decided it was none of my business.

****

Dean’s POV:

My bladder woke me up early the next morning. I opened my eyes with a soft groan, stiff from sleeping on the floor. I had a dull headache from the night before. Soft light from the sunrise filtered in through the living room curtains, and I rolled into a sitting position. My brother, Jack, and Eileen were all still unconscious and breathing deeply. I glanced over at where Cas had been sitting the night before, and it looked as if he hadn’t moved at all. Hell, he probably hadn’t. He was quietly drumming his fingertips on the table and looking off towards the window where the sun was rising. The light illuminated his features and he looked deeply at peace.

I climbed to my feet groggily, and he turned to look at me. “Good morning, Dean,” he said softly, his eyes warm.

My stomach swam at those eyes and the way they seemed to look at me as if I were his favorite person in the world. I wished more than anything that could be enough.

“Gotta pee,” I grunted charmingly, staggering past him into the bathroom.

I pissed quickly, but I found myself staring into the bathroom mirror for far too long. I’d f*cked up last night. I’d ruined the night by bringing up my teenage years. I’d been drunk; my inhibitions had been down. I’d never wanted Sammy to know anything about any of that. And the way everyone had looked at me…what Cas had said. He wished he could’ve been our caretaker. Here I was, feeling the way I felt about him, and he’d been talking about how he could’ve been cutting the crusts off our PB and J’s and driving us to school.

I sighed, splashing water on my face before heading back out. Castiel was no longer sitting in his chair, but I smelled coffee.

I followed the smell through the dining room to the kitchen, where a pot was brewing on the counter. Cas looked over his shoulder at me as I walked in and nodded to me.

“Since when do you drink coffee?” I asked skeptically.

“I don’t,” he said simply, turning to face me.

We stood there in silence for about 30 more seconds before the coffee machine made a noise and Cas pulled the pot off the warmer, pouring the steaming liquid into the mug sitting on the counter. He turned and offered it to me with a gentle smile.

“Look, I don’t need a dad,” I blurted, folding my arms in embarrassment.

Cas looked taken aback. “What?”

“A dad. I don’t need you thinking you should’ve been there to raise me. You make me coffee, you heal me when I’m hurt, you stopped my panic attack. You check on me at night sometimes. I know you do; I’ve caught you doing it. I don’t need the reminders that you see me as a kid, man.”

Cas raised one eyebrow, setting the cup of coffee back on the counter. “Dean, I never do any of those things because I have any desire to be a stand in for your father,” he said flatly. “And I don’t see you as a child.”

“Then why? Why do you do this sh*t?” I scowled, gesturing to the coffee mug.

“Because I care for you,” he replied, somewhat impatiently. “Because doing kind things and wanting to be there for someone you care for is normal, so I’ve been told. You do kind things for me. Am I to assume you want to be my father?”

We glared at each other for a moment before I sighed and looked away. “No. Sorry.”

His expression softened immediately. “I know you’re incredibly independent. When I said I should’ve taken you away last night…I meant it. But not because I feel paternally towards you. It’s because I…I hate knowing there were times I wasn’t there when you and your brother needed me, when my family needed me. Regardless of your age.” He picked the coffee mug back up and held it out to me.

I accepted it, running a hand through my hair. “Thank you, Cas.”

“For what?” he asked, meeting my eyes.

I cleared my throat. “For, uh. For loving us.”

There was no more time to expand on that, however, because Jody trudged into the kitchen in sweatpants and slippers at that moment. Her short hair stuck out in several directions. “Smelled coffee,” she yawned, hip bumping Cas to grab a mug of her own off the carousel.

She shuffled to the fridge and grabbed the creamer, pouring a generous amount into her cup before placing it back in the door. “You boys wanna help me start getting out what still needs made?”

“’Course,” I said, taking a slow sip of the coffee in my hands before setting the cup down. Cas and I wordlessly unloaded the fridge—turkey, and Tupperware, and cheeseball, and pie.

“Going to start the baked mac ’n cheese and deviled eggs here in a minute,” Jody said, taking a drink of her own coffee and picking up a wooden spoon. “But I’m making cinnamon rolls for breakfast. It’s too early to start heating stuff up.”

“Never too early for pie, Jody,” I said, eyeing the pumpkin one closest to me hungrily.

She grinned and swatted at me with the spoon in her hand. “Out of my kitchen.”

****

Within the next couple hours, everyone had woken up and stuffed themselves into the living room eating Jody’s cinnamon rolls and watching the parade. Kaia had tried to figure out the closed captions on the tv for Eileen, and after about five minutes of watching her struggle Eileen had laughed and held out her hand for the remote. “Figured I’d put you out of your misery,” she said with a grin, pressing two buttons and activating them easily.

Cas was entranced as always by the large balloons and parade floats on the screen, and my heart squeezed at the way his eyes shone while he watched them go by. The little dork just couldn’t get enough. He watched them like it was deathly important he memorize their every detail, hands clasped in his lap as he sat quietly.

Eileen was curled up under Sam’s arm on the couch, and he rested his cheek on top of her head. Jack sat cross legged on the other end of the couch and was grinning as he licked the icing off his fingers.

Bobby was in the kitchen keeping Jody company as she cooked; the rest of us had begged to help her but she wouldn’t have any part of it. She’d said it made her heart happy to see all her kids gathered around the tv on Thanksgiving morning. We weren’t exactly the Brady Bunch version of “kids”, especially with the only one not technically an adult being Jack, but we didn’t argue it. If I was honest, it was nice to feel cared for like that. We’d never gotten holidays like this as actual kids. The difference in how I was okay with Jody’s mothering but not the potential that Cas felt the same was not lost on me, and I hoped he didn’t pick up on it.

I glanced at him again and to my shock, he was watching me instead of the tv. I froze. For a long moment, it felt like I couldn’t look away. He kept my gaze while everyone around us watched the parade intently, and I swallowed as our eyes held each other for far too long. The corner of his mouth twitched towards a smile, and he finally turned to look back at the screen wordlessly.

When I was able to tear my eyes away, my face felt hot and I knew I was blushing like a f*cking preteen. I stared ahead, watching the parade but seeing nothing. Nothing except those blue eyes burning into mine. What the hell had he been staring at me for? I realized I could ask myself the same question, considering I’d noticed because I was wanting to look at him. I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth, wondering if I had any leftover icing on my face, but there was none.

I sighed loud enough that Sam turned to look at me in confusion. If only Dad could see me now. I stood, and everyone’s eyes followed me. “I think I left my charger in the car last night, just gonna go grab it,” I said, quickly ducking out of the living room and into the mercifully cool November air.

Once I made it to the Impala I sat down hard in the driver’s seat, taking a deep breath. Something was going to have to give. We couldn’t keep living this way. Cas knew I was dancing around something. It had gotten to the point that I was uncomfortable around my own best friend, and that hurt.

I jumped when the passenger door opened, and Sam sat down beside me skeptically. “Your charger’s sitting on the kitchen counter, and you used it last night,” he said with a raised eyebrow. “What’s going on, man?”

“I just needed some air,” I shrugged, staring out the windshield. I could feel my brother’s eyes boring into the side of my face.

“Ah,” he replied, clearly not believing me. “Good old fresh air. You’ve been saying that a lot lately, ya know.”

I rolled my eyes. “Go back in with your girlfriend, dude. I’ll be in in a minute. Seriously.” I gave him a gentle shove. “I’m good.”

Sam took a breath. “Listen Dean, every time you’ve shut me out in the past there’s been some world ending sh*t about to go down that you didn’t want me to know about. Can you at least assure me that no one’s in danger?”

I laughed once. “Nobody’s in danger, I promise. No world ending sh*t.”

“Good,” he said quietly. “Do you wanna talk about last night?”

“Absolutely not,” I replied cheerfully.

“Dean—”

“Look, can we not do this? Not on Thanksgiving. I don’t want to talk about the sh*t I did as a teenager, man. We’ve all got our skeletons. I was drunk and it slipped, it was a stupid mistake and I got everybody unnecessarily pissed off. But I’m good. Really.”

Sam sighed. “They were just pissed because they cared.” He glanced up. “Incoming.”

I followed his eyes in time to see the front door swing shut behind Claire. She had pulled on her jacket and was approaching the car. “Hey, I’m going on a walk,” she called. “Dean. Come with?”

“Uh. Sure?” I said in confusion, shooting Sam a blank look. I heaved myself to my feet and closed the car door. Sam looked after us for a second before getting out and heading back towards the porch.

“Where are we going?” I finally asked as Claire led me through the backyard down a trail into the surrounding wood. “You got a clubhouse out here?”

She ignored me, walking about twenty more feet, then stopped and turned to grin at me. “I wanted a smoke.” She reached in her pocket and pulled out an honest to God homemade joint, and I stared.

“Jody know you’re smoking pot?” I asked.

“If she did, do you think I’d be freezing my ass off in the woods to do it?” She held the joint between her teeth and lit it with the Zippo in her other hand. “Why, you gonna snitch?”

“No,” I said. “Just wondering why I needed to be witness to your delinquency.”

“Because we gotta have a talk,” she replied, taking a long drag and then offering it to me.

I waved her off. “I’m good, thanks. A talk about what?”

“Let’s keep walking.” She looked pointedly back towards the house. We waded even deeper into the trees, to the point that the ground was becoming a solid pit of mud.

“Claire, what gives,” I complained, struggling to keep up as my boots sank deeper and deeper. “You steal the Declaration of Independence or something? Just say it.”

She stopped and leveled a look at me, watching me too long for comfort. Analyzing me. “Alright,” she finally said, nudging me with her shoulder. “Does Castiel know you’re in love with him yet?”

My stomach dropped as I stared at her. I felt the angry heat in my cheeks. “What?” It was all I could get out.

“Oh please, simmer down,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “You two have practically been married for years. I see the way you look at him. The way you talk about him. Hell, you just ran outside to cool down from his smoldering gaze. Queer sees queer, dude.”

“I’m not…it’s not like that,” I hissed through gritted teeth, glaring down at her. My face felt like it was on fire; my brain didn’t want to form words. “Mind your own business, kid. Seriously. I’m not gay.”

“Didn’t say you were gay,” she said with raised eyebrows. She wasn’t the least bit intimidated. “So, he doesn’t know?”

I fumed as I looked at Claire, noticing the way she met my eyes coolly and without judgement. My anger immediately began to melt away at the expression on her face. She may have been just a kid, but in that moment she reminded me so much of my Charlie that it was almost a physical pain. She wasn’t going to buy any bullsh*t I spouted. There was no point in attempting to convince her; the more defensive I got, the more she’d know. I hadn’t realized just how desperately I needed someone else to know until she was standing here, not giving me the option to bullsh*t my way out of it. How much I needed someone’s support in this.

After a long silence, I looked away and shook my head. No, he didn’t know. He couldn’t know. But Claire could. My heart stuttered at what I’d just done, but it was too late to take it back now. I was in love with Castiel.

Claire’s face softened and she surprised me by wrapping her arms around me tightly. “Am I the first person you’ve talked to about this?”

I squeezed her back for a second before pulling away, eyes anywhere but her face. I cleared my throat and nodded.

“Congratulations Dean, the hardest part is over,” she smiled, punching my shoulder. “Take a breath. You came out to someone and the earth didn’t explode. No hell fire, no apocalypse. You’re still a man.”

The stinging in my eyes was not from the marijuana smoke.

“You want my opinion?” she continued, before taking another long drag off the joint.

I finally found my voice, though it was weak. “You’re gonna give it anyway,” I grunted.

“You’re right, because I care about you. I think you need to give up the toxic masculinity,” she said. “How many years has it been since Lisa? Since you’ve let someone love you? You’re giving up pursuing something potentially really good for you because you’re scared, because you associate loving men with being weak or feminine. When it’s not like that at all. You’re seriously like the toughest guy I know, it’s kinda gross actually. Yet here you are.”

“You got all that from a head shake?” I asked weakly.

“I got all that from knowing you for the better part of my life,” she said. “And because you’re a stubborn emotionally constipated f*ckhead with daddy issues, just like me.”

“Cas isn’t into dudes.” I said the words softly. Saying it out loud broke my heart. I didn’t have a witty comeback for her remark. All I could think about was how I was going to have to live however long I had left in this world unable to tell my best friend how I really felt.

“How do you know?” she replied skeptically. “To me, it looks like he worships the ground you stand on.”

“He’s family,” I sighed. “He’s just being nice. Cas doesn’t…understand social cues.”

Claire shook her head. “You need to give him more credit. I'd like to see him happy, too, ya know. He may think I don't like him most of the time, but I have a soft spot for the nerd. I’m telling you, Dean. I know you’ve got a lot of years of internal sh*t to unload. But loving Castiel doesn’t make you weak. Or gross, or unnatural. Or whatever other names you probably already call yourself. When you’re ready, I think you should tell him.”

“Okay thanks Dr. Phil, can you lay off the L word?” I flinched. “Is that why you brought me out here? To grill me?”

“I brought you out here to let you know you can confide in me, asshat. Since I know you won’t anyone else. And also because I didn’t figure you’d want his supersonic hearing picking up every word we said. Look. I wouldn’t pressure you into coming out to anyone else until you’re ready. I know it’s a big deal. But your family is going to support you no matter what, Dean. Sam would never bat an eye, you know that. Jack doesn’t even know what hom*ophobia is. Bobby and Jody just want to finally see you happy. This isn’t the 80s anymore. It’s okay now. Remember that gay guy that ran for president?”

We were silent for a moment, walking side by side. My anxiety was high, and I desperately tried to calm myself so that Cas wouldn’t worry and ask questions I couldn’t answer. I finally turned to Claire. “I appreciate it,” I said. “But seriously, Claire, please don’t like…” My mind began to spiral at the possibilities. She could ruin me. I’d given her something huge to hold over my head.

“I’d never say anything,” she said. “I don’t even remember what we were talking about. You sure you don’t want a hit?”

I smiled. I actually believed her. Claire was nothing if not real. “Nah. I gave those days up a long time ago. Come on, I’m hungry. Maybe the food’s almost done.”

She took one last long drag, coughing, and then threw the joint down and smashed it beyond recognition with her boot. “Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes.

Sure enough, once we pushed the front door open, my mouth began watering. The scents drifting from the kitchen were tantalizing; the scent standing next to me, however, was not. Now that we were indoors, the weed smell was apparent on Claire.

“Dude,” I said under my breath. “Go change. I’m getting a contact high.”

She pulled a face, giving me a thumbs up and quickly darting through the living room and up the stairs.

I joined Sam on the couch, and he gave me a questioning look. “Smoke and Toke over there wanted some company while she readied her appetite for Thanksgiving,” I said, rolling my eyes. I worked hard to keep a neutral expression.

Cas, who was sitting across the room talking to Jack, immediately turned to look at me accusingly. Of course he’d heard me.

"I didn’t give it to her!” I said defensively. “I was a victim of her delinquent ways.”

“Dean, she needs guidance,” he replied exasperatedly.

“Okay, by all means, Mr. Novak, go for it; but I’m not taking a joint away from an eighteen year old girl who could most definitely kick my ass,” I grinned. “It’s better than cigarettes, right?” He knew if Claire was ever in any real trouble we’d be there in a heartbeat. There were bigger crimes than a legal adult deciding she wanted to smoke marijuana.

Cas frowned, but as Claire came back downstairs in fresh clothes, he let the subject drop.

“Ding ding, this is me ringing the dinner bell!” Jody called, and I jumped up excitedly. Her cooking was great on an average day; I couldn’t wait to see what her idea of Thanksgiving was.

“Dean, there’s no way you’re that hungry. You had four cinnamon rolls,” Sam complained as I elbowed him out of the way.

“Sorry, Sammy, some of us are men and eat like men,” I teased.

He turned to Eileen. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize not consuming half a can of cream cheese icing compromised my masculinity.”

I flipped him off and made my way into the kitchen. Despite being sick with nerves only minutes before, my heart felt lighter knowing I had a confidante in Claire. For the moment, I was happy. I could breathe easier now that someone else shared my world crushing shameful secret. Was it kinda weird that the only person in the world who knew was a teenage girl? Yeah, probably. But it was someone I could trust.

Alex and Kaia were already in the kitchen making their plates when I came in. I inched towards an empty plate and Jody smacked my hand. “Let the girls go first, Dean,” she said chidingly.

“Go ahead Sam, she’s waiting for you,” I grinned, bumping him with my shoulder.

“Real nice,” Sam replied sarcastically, gesturing for Eileen to come around him for her own.

Claire slipped in beside me and started making her plate, and I watched the ever-shrinking pumpkin pie mournfully. After what seemed like forever, Jody sighed. “Oh, go on, then,” she laughed.

I quickly grabbed a plate off the stack and began piling it high, tongue between my lips as I strategically balanced everything to make the most of one trip. When I was finally satisfied, I carefully carried it into the dining room where some of my family were already seated. Cas wasn’t eating, and there was an empty chair beside him, so I sat down.

Claire caught my eye from across the table and smiled encouragingly at me, and I looked away. While I appreciated the support, I still had to get used to this feeling.

Slowly but surely everyone else filled in around us, leaving room at the end for Bobby’s chair.

Jody was the last to sit, and when she did she was smiling broadly. “I’m so happy you’re all here,” she beamed. She looked hesitantly down at her food. “Should we pray?”

Claire choked on her drink. “To who, him?” she asked, elbowing Jack.

“Good point, let’s eat,” Jody said, and the table erupted into laughter.

As the ten of us crammed around Jody’s dining room table, bumping elbows and throwing dinner rolls to each other, my heart was full. Holidays had never been something Sam and I had been able to truly experience or enjoy as kids. As we’d gotten older, our version of Thanksgiving turned into takeout and the parade, followed by a case of beer. To be sitting here with my adopted family, hearing laughter in surround sound and enjoying a home cooked meal, brought me more happiness than I’d thought it ever could.

In the end, we were all sitting back in our chairs, uncomfortably full. I stretched my arms above my head. “I could use a nap,” I announced, and several others nodded in agreement with me.

As everyone began clearing the table and heading to the kitchen, Cas turned in his chair and bumped my shoulder with his own gently. “Happy Thanksgiving, Dean,” he smiled softly.

I smiled back, all too aware of Claire’s eyes across the table. “Happy Thanksgiving, man,” I replied, clapping him on the back. “I’m glad you decided to show.”

“Me too,” he admitted.

I grinned at him. And whether it was the buzz from my beer or I was just feeling sentimental, I leaned over and hugged him to me.

Chapter 8

Chapter Text

I was on my stomach in bed, legs kicked up behind me as I ate handfuls of popcorn straight from the bag and scrolled through the news on my phone. Another oil spill, another accusation of Russian collusion in the election. Another athlete being “cancelled” for kneeling during the national anthem. Plenty of clickbait worthy titles, but hardly any real crime and nothing at all that stuck out as our kind of thing. Unless yet another white disturbed teenager shooting up his classmates could be considered a supernatural occurrence, I had squat.

I sighed and swiped over to open my email, figuring I might as well make sure Jody or Garth hadn’t sent us anything. Apart from spam, however, all that pinged in was the weekly Busty Asian Beauties newsletter. Not even that could interest me. I frowned and deleted it without opening it. “You’re sick, man,” I mumbled to myself. “It’s a sickness.” Never in my life had I deleted p*rn without glancing through it at least. I wondered absently if Sam was having any more luck than I was as I ran a hand through my hair and prepared to give up for the day.

As if he’d been reading my mind, there was a quick knock on the door before Sam poked his head into the room. He was clutching his tablet. “Are you...talking to yourself?”

I glowered at him. “What? No. And I coulda been naked,” I complained. “Give a man a minute to reply, will ya?”

He grimaced. “Sorry. And thanks for that mental image.” I watched his gaze go to the bag of popcorn and then back to me. “Looks like you were otherwise occupied, anyway. You have butter on your face.”

I self-consciously wiped my sleeve over my mouth. “Yeah, yeah. What do you want?”

He smirked before waving the tablet at me. “You’re never going to guess where I think I just found us a case.” He seemed uncharacteristically excited about it, which was odd for him.

“Locker room?” I asked immediately. This had better be good for him to be grinning like that.

“What? No.” He looked confused, and his smile fell.

“Strip club,” I guessed, pointing at him. “Am I warm?”

He rolled his eyes. “Dude. No.”

I frowned. I wasn’t sure what else could have anyone looking pumped like that, but knowing Sam, it was probably a haunted planetarium or something. “Alright, shoot,” I sighed. “What do you got?”

He leaned against the doorframe and looked down at the screen of his iPad before clearing his throat dramatically. “Third Couple Murdered in Kansas City Home with Bloody Past,” he read, raising his eyebrows at me like that was supposed to make it all click.

I stared at him blankly. “That’s your hint? I don’t think I’m picking up what you’re putting down, man.”

He frowned. “Kansas City. House with a bloody past? It’s the place that crazy evangelist William Ison lived!”

“William Who-son?” I asked, taking another handful of popcorn into my mouth.

Sam looked exasperated. “Dean. You’ve seriously never heard of him? There’s even a Netflix documentary; he’s infamous. He was the original owner—a religious extremist best known in the 50’s and 60’s for his loud views that same sex couples should be, uh…” he cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair. “Done away with,” he finished, wincing. Clearly, Ison’s version was far more colorful and descriptive than Sam was willing to share. “At least until the cops connected all the murders to him. He drowned like 15 gay men, saying he wanted their last act to be a baptism so they could get into Heaven. Guy was a monster.”

Damn. “What the hell happened to ‘Thou shalt not Murder?’” I asked, blinking. “Guess he skipped over that passage in the Good Book, eh?”

Sam shook his head. “Zealots tend to overlook anything in the Bible that doesn’t fit their agenda, always have. Pretty reoccurring theme throughout history. Anyway, when Ison was caught, he barricaded himself in the house and took a .22 to the head before the cops could arrest him. The Kansas City Project unofficially dedicated the place as an LGBT safe zone in ’05, ya know, as a big middle finger to the guy, and get this; all three times gay couples have rented it since, they’ve been found dead in the home. No other renters have ever had an issue. It sat empty for years until the most recent ones because of the stigma surrounding it. People swear it’s cursed. Sounds to me like Ison is just carrying on his work from the grave.”

I figured it wasn’t a good time to make a crack about it being a not-so-safe safe zone. I didn’t like the analyzing look he gave me as he concluded, and I shifted. “Well Sammy, unfortunately there are some nasty people out there willing to do horrible things,” I said. “Probably wanting to carry on that psycho’s legacy. How do you know this is us? Sounds like a textbook hate crime to me.”

“I thought you might say that,” he said. He tapped his screen, pulling up another tab. “The maintenance man who found the couple said he was coming to look at the circuit box for them, because they’d complained a few days before that their electricity was acting up. Lights flickering on and off, tv channels changing on their own.” He paused and looked up at me. “Cold spots.”

I stared at him. I had heard a lot of sh*t in my time, but a gay killing ghost preacher was a first. “Are you saying we’re about to go gank a hom*ophobic ghost?” I asked. “Because you know how crazy that sounds, right?”

“You’re really going to act like that’s even remotely the craziest thing we’ve dealt with?” Sam said, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, good point.”

He grinned. “Anyway, it sounds promising. And like…I don’t know. Kind of a win-win, right? Take out a vengeful spirit and a hom*ophobic serial killer in the same hunt?”

“Since when are you such an activist?” I asked skeptically, fighting the urge to squirm under his gaze. I hated the way Sam always seemed to know more than he should. Quit being paranoid.

He shrugged. “I like true crime and I hate bigots. It’s less than an hour away. I say we load up Cas and Jack and go look, yeah?”

“Cas?” I asked hesitantly. “Why Cas?” He didn’t usually tag along on simple salt and burn missions; something like this was kinda below his pay grade.

“We need to lure the guy out, right?” Sam asked pointedly.

My blood went cold at where this seemed to be headed. “What’s your point, Sam?” I asked, enunciating each word through my teeth.

He leveled a look at me. “Well, I’m sure as hell not pretending to be your lover.”

“I’m out.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Give me a break. Federal agent is just another day on the job but gay home owner is where your moral compass draws the line? Seriously, get up, come on. I figured we could grab some dinner when we got there. Been a minute since we’ve seen Missouri.”

“I’m seriously out,” I repeated flatly. “You three can handle this.”

Sam rubbed his forehead. “Listen. You’ve been complaining about nothing coming up for almost two months. We find a case and you want to bail? Two of us are going to have to pose as a couple in that house if we even want a chance of making Ison angry enough to show his face, and two of us have to go hunt for the remains. Jack is a child, you’re my brother. If you won’t go, that would leave me and Cas, which is fine, but I don’t want Jack looking for and digging up a grave alone. That’s too much for him. We need four people on this.”

“What if I go and hunt for remains with Jack?” I asked moodily. Even as I said it, though, the thought of Sam acting in any way intimate towards Cas made me unsettlingly jealous.

He threw his hands up in exasperation. “Fine. We’ll do that. I’d like to give the dude a piece of my mind anyway. Let’s go, put your shoes on.”

“Why are you being so short?” I complained as he walked out.

“No reason, Dean,” he sighed.

“Don’t ‘no reason’ me, get your ass back here!” I said sullenly.

But he’d already gone.

****

“So…I need to pretend that I’m in a romantic relationship with Sam,” Cas said as we sat in the small diner. He looked less than thrilled at the idea, forehead wrinkled in concern as he raised an eyebrow. “What exactly will this entail?”

“Hopefully not much,” Sam said, leaning back in his chair uncomfortably. “I’d like to think this guy will just see two dudes walking in together holding hands and go berserk, ya know?”

Jack had been staring for some time, and he finally spoke up. “Cas and Sam are going to fall in love?” he asked in confusion. He seemed distressed at the thought.

“Absolutely not,” Cas said, a little too sharply. “This is just for a case, like when we pretend that we’re fraudulent officers of the law.”

“Why don’t you say it a little louder?” Sam asked nervously, looking around. He had nothing to worry about; no one was paying any attention to us. In fact, the only waitress in the building was doing a great job of making herself scarce. I’d been waiting on a bottle of ketchup for ten minutes.

I sat in stony silence as I ate my dry french fries, and Sam nudged me. “What’s your deal?”

“I’m peachy,” I replied calmly, taking a drink from my Pepsi. It burned, like the syrup had been going out and I’d been served mostly seltzer.

He looked like he wanted to push the issue, but he didn’t. “Okay. If this pans out and this house is being haunted by a vengeful spirit, and I believe it is, Dean and Jack are going to head over to burn the bones. Remember, Jack, the guy’s name was William Ison. According to county records he’s buried in Elmwood Cemetery. Dean already has the address programmed into his phone.”

“So, what if the old bible thumper doesn’t show? You and Cas just gonna go spoon into the sunset?” I asked sourly. I knew I was being dumb. Sam was stupidly in love with Eileen and definitely not into Castiel. But as much as the thought of having to be lovey in that house with Cas bothered me, it bothered me more to imagine him doing it.

“Dean, would you like to swap places with me?” Sam said patiently. “I’ll take Jack to burn bones. I really don’t mind either way.”

Yes. “Nope.”

Cas looked between us in confusion, then spoke up. “Just so we’re clear, I do not plan on having intercourse with your brother,” he said seriously, leveling a look at me. “I could see how that would make you uncomfortable.”

Jack choked on his drink, and I put my head in my hands. “Thanks for the clarification, Cas,” I groaned. As if the situation hadn’t been awkward enough.

“On that note, I’ll go get the check,” Sam said brightly, standing and walking quickly up to the counter.

****

The sun had long since set when we pulled up to the curb in front of the old house. There was still a perimeter of caution tape around the yard, which three of us stepped over (Jack decided that ducking under it was much more efficient).

I turned on the EMF meter as I sidled up to the window, and almost immediately it picked up a signal. The high droning whine intensified when I held it closer to the glass. “Damn, not even in the house yet,” I sighed. “He’s one strong son of a bitch, alright. We’re gonna head to the cemetery; call if things get hairy, okay?”

“Will do,” Sam said. He was busy picking the lock on the front door; I heard it click, and he pulled back to look at Cas. “Well, let’s go, man,” he said, holding his hand out as he picked his shotgun up off the grass.

Cas stared at his hand for a long moment before slowly approaching him. He twined his fingers with Sam’s, and as staged as it was, I swore I could feel my heart breaking. There was a rock in the pit of my stomach as I watched them fumble to find an arrangement that was comfortable for both of them.

“Hey! Uh, I’ll take this one, Sammy,” I found myself blurting before I had a chance to think. “You and Jack go ahead and head over to the grave site.” Dean, no. Dean, shut up.

Sam smiled easily at me. “Alright, sounds good.” He let go of Cas and Cas turned to me, his expression unreadable. He offered his hand silently.

“Let’s go, Jack,” Sam said, handing me the gun. The two of them walked back towards the car. Jack turned and gave me a gentle wave over his shoulder. I stared after them. What the hell had I just done?

As both Impala doors closed and the engine roared to life, I clenched my teeth. “Okay, let’s not make this any weirder than it has to be,” I said into the silence. I took a deep breath and reached for Cas’s hand without looking at him.

He laced his fingers through mine immediately, and I swallowed hard. His grip was strong and firm, and he rested a somewhat calloused thumb against the back of mine.

That sh*t’s so nasty, Dean!

John Winchester’s voice rang clear in my thoughts, back to that afternoon when I was twelve years old outside of the motel. I could see his enraged face in my mind like he was standing in front of us now. I jerked my hand away hard, and Cas looked at me in concern.

“Dean?”

“Sorry. You, uh. Shocked me,” I said lamely. Get your sh*t together. You’ve had three-ways with women whose faces you were too drunk to remember, you can hold the man’s hand.

I reached for it again, biting the inside of my lip and pushing the front door open. I immediately felt his grip tighten somewhat in mine. We walked into the house in silence. I wasn’t sure what I expected, but it was still fully furnished and looked, for all intents and purposes, occupied. An empty dog bed sat in the corner. A throw blanket was draped over the back of the couch. The only thing that gave away what had happened here was that the wooden banister to the upper level was broken and splintered, and there was an unsettling dark spot on the carpet below. I winced.

“Sure does look like a fine place to live, doesn’t it sweetheart?” Cas said into the stillness, making me jump slightly.

Sweetheart. The pet name made me want to smile, and I was thankful that there was no electricity to give away the heat in my cheeks. Of course he’d go for something cute like that.

“Absolutely, babe,” I deadpanned. My eyes were anywhere but on his face.

We stopped. Listened.

After a few seconds, Cas pulled me further into the house. “We could raise our family here,” he said nonchalantly, giving my hand a deliberant squeeze.

“A big yard for Jack to play in,” I agreed with a smile. This was a job. Just another job, and I was playing just another role. But in a different life, this wouldn’t have sounded half bad. In a different life, where Jack was truly his age and Cas returned my feelings, we could have had normalcy like this—a life watching Jack run around, maybe even with a dog, while we sat on the back patio and got a little too soft around the middle…

We slowly walked through the lower level, holding hands. His was warm in mine; a gentle tether as we made our way through the rooms. Two of the kitchen cabinets were open and the dishes appeared to have been half done; the sink was still full of murky water and several plates hung on a drying rack on the counter. The house was suspended in time, and I sighed. I didn’t think I’d ever truly get used to how quickly life could be snuffed out, even after all these years. The two men had probably been planning their next date night or what to have for dinner only hours before being killed, and all that remained now were the relics of a day that was never finished.

We circled the entire downstairs, hand in hand, with no trace of the ghost. The EMF was there, but it was silent. I huffed. If there was anything still here, it wasn’t taking the bait. “Man, I sure do love giving it in the ass!” I called loudly, and Cas stopped in his tracks.

“Dean,” he hissed, sounding somewhat embarrassed at my vulgarity.

“Look, I’m getting impatient,” I said under my breath. “Dude needs to hurry his ass along.”

“Perhaps we aren’t being convincing,” he replied, acting sheepish to voice that thought out loud.

“Well, we ain’t banging,” I said, and Cas’s eyes flickered to mine in shock.

“That is not what I meant. I just mean we’re wandering the house aimlessly in the middle of the night. What would we be doing if we were an actual couple at this time?”

“Banging,” I repeated, raising my eyebrows. I didn’t know where else he was headed with this.

Cas sighed. “Going to bed, Dean.”

“Oh, true,” I blushed. “Well, then, yeah. Let’s. Uh. Head upstairs I guess.”

We carefully made our way up the steps, staying close to the wall to avoid the broken banister. The master bedroom door was open; the bed loomed almost ominously.

“Ya know, it’s a little weird to crawl into some dead guy’s bed together,” I blurted, and Cas rubbed his forehead in exasperation before silently stepping forward towards the mattress and sitting down on the edge.

I swallowed hard. Was I really about to climb into bed with him? My feet carried me to the other side, but my mind and eyes were on him as he theatrically loosened his tie and pulled the covers back, sliding under them and settling back into the pillows. He looked at me expectedly. “Coming to bed, sweetheart?” he asked pointedly.

I sat down hard, swinging my legs up on to the bed and gingerly pulling the covers up over me. Yep, this was weird.

“You probably need to come closer,” Cas murmured, and my stomach knotted at that as I carefully slid over next to him until we were shoulder to shoulder.

We laid side by side for several long minutes like that, our arms touching. We didn’t speak. The house was so eerily quiet without the hum of power moving through it that all I could hear was the steady breathing of the man next to me. I gripped the shotgun tightly; it was the only thing grounding me. I felt like I was seconds from slipping off into space, never to be seen again.

Cas reached out in the darkness and took my hand under the covers, and I accepted it willingly. It fit well into mine; and this time, concealed by the comforter, it seemed easier. It was almost too easy to squeeze it gently in the darkness; it felt natural.

I knew that spirits couldn’t see through the blankets, and I think he did too.

“Maybe there’s nothing,” he finally said gruffly. But he didn’t let go.

“Yeah. Maybe,” I replied softly. “I just want to be sure.”

“Of course,” he agreed quickly.

I worked to control my breathing, but I knew there was no point anymore. He had to feel every emotion coursing through me right now. We were too close in this dark intimate space for there to be any way around it.

“Dean,” he said softly, and I tilted my face up to look at him. For a moment, neither of us moved as he looked into my eyes. He raised a hand to my cheek, and I let him. Our lips were only inches apart; his every exhale was intoxicating. He gently ran his thumb across my skin. Why did he have to be such a good actor, when it would be so simple to close the distance between our faces right now? It was selfish to wish a creature like him could ever love someone like me; but here in this moment, playing pretend in the dark, I wanted him. I wanted to hear him tell me that he needed me the way I needed him, I wanted…I hadn’t realized I was leaning closer into him until he adjusted his hold on my face into a supportive caress, allowing me closer more comfortably. I watched him take a shaky shallow breath, I watched his eyes close... I let my own eyes fall shut as my stomach did flips. His nose touched my cheek and his damp lower lip just barely brushed my top…

“Swine! Sodomites! Abominations of God!” The screech made us both jump violently, and we were climbing out of bed before I had time to process what had just happened. Ison was storming at us from the doorway of the bedroom, and by God he was an ugly motherf*cker.

“Oh, shut up, asshole,” I snapped. My heart was pounding in my chest. I aimed the gun and shot at him, breathing heavily, and he vanished with a howl.

Cas punched a button on his phone, holding it to his ear quickly. “Sam. He’s here.” There was a beat of silence. “You’re still digging?”

Ison appeared behind Cas’s left shoulder, and I raised my gun. “Duck!” I commanded, and he easily moved out of the way as I shot another load of rock salt through the apparition. “They haven’t dug it up yet?” I asked tightly.

“They’re working on it,” he replied in a strained tone, ending the call without a goodbye and stuffing his phone back in his pocket. “In the meantime, we need salt.”

“Look at you, knowing your sh*t,” I grinned, and he rolled his eyes. The high stress situation put me in my element; there was no time to dwell on my horrible mistake. It was time to put this bastard down. We traversed down the stairs carefully but quickly, our backs to the wall. It made me proud every time I saw Cas excel at a hunt. He covered me perfectly, his defensive posture oddly graceful as we crept towards the kitchen. It was easy to forget that he had once led armies. He was a skilled fighter and an even more skilled strategist.

We both began rifling through the cabinets quickly, and I made a noise of satisfaction as I grabbed a container of salt and spread a circle out around us like I had done thousands of times before. “Try and come get us now, ugly,” I threatened, aiming my gun into the darkness and waiting.

We didn’t have to wait for long. He appeared just outside the perimeter of the circle, and before I even had a chance to raise my gun, he waved his arm with a snarl and a dining room chair came sliding hard through the salt and into me.

“What the f*ck?” I groaned, shoving it to the side in annoyance. The minute the circle was broken he appeared inches from Cas, grabbing his face roughly, and then he froze.

“You aren’t human,” he hissed in shock. “What—”

That second of hesitation was all I needed. I fired at his back, flinching as the salt passed through him and hit Cas, and he was gone once more. I knew it wouldn’t truly hurt Cas, but the sound of the rock salt exploding against his skin was less than pleasant.

“Cas, you good?” I asked tensely, turning for the salt container on the kitchen counter to reseal our circle.

“I’m fine—Dean, behind you!”

I never saw him. All I felt was the ice cold fingers around the back of my neck, and then my head was plummeting towards the filthy cold dishwater in the kitchen sink at an alarming speed. I heard the gun clatter to the ground at my feet as my hands moved automatically to wrench the intruder off of me, as if that would help. I inhaled a mouthful of water as my face hit, which turned out to be a very bad mistake. I immediately began coughing, which only forced more water down my throat and into my lungs as I squeezed my eyes shut against the sting.

I pushed hard on the sides of the sink, frantically trying to raise my face from the murky liquid, my lungs and nose aflame as I gasped it in uncontrollably. I felt a fingernail peel back as I pushed against the counter. The pain of it was lost in the insatiable scorch in my lungs for oxygen, and they inhaled of their own accord once more as they fought for air.

A deafening shot of rock salt whizzed by my right ear, shattering the window above the sink, and I hit the ground hard as glass shards rained down on top of me.

I saw Cas kneel by me as I rolled to my hands and knees, gagging and coughing, and he reached for me. I just barely had the time to shove him back away from me, hard, before violently vomiting up the brown water.

Every breath burned as I coughed and vomited, hiding my face from him the best I could. “Go away,” I groaned. “I don’t want you to see this.” Another searing mouthful of dishwater and stomach acid forced its way through my lips.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Cas replied, once again moving to reach for me before looking up and angrily firing off another shot. As he did so, the ghost cried out and burst into flames, and I collapsed on to my elbows in exhaustion. Finally.

I rested my forehead against the cool linoleum, my lungs burning and my stomach rolling as I uselessly dry heaved. There was nothing left to lose. I knew I had to look like an idiot, face on the floor and ass in the air, but I didn’t have the energy to care.

“Dean, close your eyes, you have glass on your face,” Cas said softly, crawling over to me.

“I puked,” I protested, cringing away from him, and he caught my shoulder firmly.

“You were nearly drowned,” he said. “Your body reacted as it should have.”

Gentle fingers brushed glass from my wet hair and picked it from my cheeks quickly and efficiently, and I sat up slowly and scooted away from the puddle of water and bile in embarrassment.

“Are you okay?” I managed.

“I’m fine. Hold still,” Cas said, and he put a hand against my chest. My lungs immediately began taking in air more easily, and my throat stopped burning. I registered for the first time that my shirt was soaked and cold.

“That’s two f*cking hunts now you’ve had to save my ass,” I said sourly, sighing.

“And how many have you saved mine?” he countered, reaching into his pocket for his phone as it began buzzing. “Sam. Yes. It worked.” His voice was clipped short, a completely different tone from how he’d been speaking to me seconds before. There was a moment of silence as he listened to Sam’s reply. “He tried to drown Dean,” he said flatly.

“Damn it Cas,” I complained. There was no point in getting Sam worked up over nothing.

“No, he’s fine now. Yes. We’ll be waiting for you.” He hung the phone up, then stood and put his hands out to help me to my feet.

“I got it,” I mumbled, standing up. “You, uh. You did good back there. You were convincing,” I said, shoving my hands in my pockets.

“As were you,” Cas said coolly.

I noticed the spot on his shirt where the rock salt had hit him and looked at him doubtfully. “You’re sure you’re good?”

“Not a scratch,” he assured me, smiling.

I sighed, pulling my wet shirt and jacket off and slinging them over my arm in disgust. The stale water smelled awful, and I tried really hard not to think about how much of it I had swallowed.

Cas averted his eyes quickly, and I nudged him. “I don’t have boobs, ya know,” I said. “No need to be a gentleman.”

He didn’t reply, walking over to the front window and pulling back the curtain to peek outside. “Hopefully filling the grave won’t take as long as digging it did,” he said, sounding annoyed.

“Oh, they probably won’t fill this one back in,” I shrugged. If Sam’s excitement for the case and disgust for the guy from earlier had been any indication, he wasn’t going to have a bleeding heart when it came to restoring his grave site.

“Dean, people could fall in,” Cas said seriously.

“Burner phone. Any time we have to get out of town quick we leave an anonymous tip. We think these things through, man. Been doing it for a hot minute.” I walked towards the living room and sat down on the couch, watching him as he stood in the window. He absently pursed his lips for a moment, and for the first time I had a chance to think about what had happened between us.

We’d almost kissed.

“Thank you for having me along,” Cas said suddenly, turning to me. “I enjoy being on hunts with you. You’re very skilled at what you do.”

I frowned at his praise, feeling heat creep up into my cheeks. “A lot of practice,” I said, looking away. “Anyway, it was all you tonight.”

“I fired two shots,” Cas said skeptically.

“Yeah, and one of them kept me from death by sink baptism,” I smiled. The familiar sound of the Impala’s engine could be heard approaching outside, and I stood up off the couch. “Let’s get out of here,” I said quickly.

We approached the front door and as Cas opened it, the early December air hit me hard. “sh*t,” I hissed, goosebumps cropping up on my bare skin. I gritted my teeth.

“Dean, take my coat,” Cas said, beginning to shrug out of it immediately.

“Dude, I’m fine,” I said, putting a hand up to stop him. “We’ll crank the heat in the car.”

Cas looked frustrated that I wouldn’t take the coat, but I was not about to go all “cold girlfriend” on the guy.

Jack was getting out of the passenger seat to climb into the back, and I quickly loaded our guns and my wet clothes into the trunk before taking his place. I opened the glove box and tipped the little bottle of travel sized mouthwash to my lips, swishing for a minute before spitting and closing my door.

Once all four doors were closed off from the wind, the cold wasn’t so bad. I felt my muscles unclench slowly as we pulled away from the curb.

“Sorry it took so long, man,” Sam said. “We had trouble finding him. His stone had been kicked over.”

“All good,” I said, warming my hands in front of the vents.

“What was he like?” Jack asked curiously. He’d taken to doing this with all of our salt and burn cases; with him technically in charge of Heaven now, he was extremely interested in where each soul would be going. Heavy emphasis on the “technically”; with him being so young, the only time he was really involved was when new angels needed to be made or on the rare occasion Rowena needed to convene about something in Hell. We’d been leery about that at first, but we trusted Rowena. She loved getting to see her “wee Jack”, and Gabriel always escorted him. Jack had made the executive decision to open up Heaven to where loved ones could visit each others’ paradises, but other than that, Gabriel hung around keeping an eye on the joint and it pretty much ran itself. Jack didn’t want to be God. Jack wanted to be a kid. Hell, he still refused to eat the crust on his peanut butter sandwiches.

“Dude was a dick,” I said. “And he was a dick in life, too. Rowena will have fun with him.”

“I don’t understand how he purposefully killed people just for being in love,” Jack said sadly. “Why hate someone for who they love? What does it matter what their physical body looks like? It’s your souls that connect.”

“Unfortunately, people have hated and killed in God’s name for eternity,” Cas sighed.

“Over a mistranslated passage that came from Chuck in the first place,” Sam scoffed.

“Chuck didn’t directly write the Bible,” Cas reminded him. “He had a boyfriend or two of his own. The prophets who interpreted what he told them, however, were notoriously hom*ophobic.”

“Okay, can we stop talking about Chuck?” I groaned. “I seriously don’t care if I ever hear his name again.”

“That we can agree on,” Cas replied quietly.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Dean,” Sam said suddenly, glancing at me. “Really.”

“Thank Cas for that one,” I said. “He’s a good shot.”

“Did you have to fall in love?” Jack asked earnestly.

I didn’t have the energy to defend myself. No one in the car spoke, and his question hung in the air as the ride home lapsed into silence.

****

Once we’d arrived back at the bunker, I immediately headed for the shower without speaking to anyone. Jack’s genuine and innocent curiosity twisted my stomach. I was in love. And it wasn’t some school boy crush; Castiel was the only one I had any interest in a future with. He understood me. He’d seen me at my worst. And as we’d lain in bed together, lips brushing intimately, I’d realized how simple things could be between us. How right they felt. I mean Claire was right, we’d practically been married for years.

But Cas did not feel the same.

I turned the shower water as hot as my skin could handle it, trying to burn off the memory of his touch. The way his fingers had cupped my cheek and his body had adjusted to allow me in closer. I felt my lip absently, remembering the way his had barely ghosted against it. My breath caught as I remembered Ison’s reaction to finding us in bed together; I doubted my dad’s would’ve been much different. In my mind, his face replaced the spirit’s. He would have been disgusted. Ashamed. Maybe violent.

I scrubbed my skin until it was red. I’d f*cked up. I couldn’t let Cas in that close again. I couldn’t let him know how twisted I really was. He’d say it was okay, I knew he would, but he would be uncomfortable if he knew the extent of it. I’d jacked off to him, for God’s sake. Dreamed of a cookie cutter future with him. He was billions of years old, really just celestial intent, and I’d been thinking about spending my life with him and getting old. What a joke.

As I dried off and dressed for bed, I made a decision that hurt like hell. I would get over these feelings for him, one way or another. I’d never let those lines blur again.

I managed to make it to my bedroom without seeing anyone and slid under the covers, sighing as I put my head against the pillow. The moment my eyes closed, all I could see was Cas. My bed felt cold and empty after lying with him only hours before. I rolled on to my side and tried desperately to clear my mind so that I could sleep.

I heard footsteps at my door, and then a soft knock. “Dean?” It was Cas’s voice. My stomach knotted as I tried to take slow convincing breaths. I heard the doorknob turn and his voice was a little louder. “Dean,” he whispered.

I wanted to know what he had to say. I wanted to know more than anything. But I couldn’t open my eyes. Finally, I heard him sigh softly and close the door, and his footsteps retreated back down the hallway.

Chapter 9

Chapter Text

My tongue was between my teeth as I painstakingly threaded a needle through the hole in the crotch of my favorite Scooby Doo boxers. I wasn’t a seamstress by any means, but I’d done more than my fair share of stitches on both myself and others to get the job done.

Sam rapped on my door, pushing it open, and the sudden noise caused me to jump and jab my finger.

I hissed in more annoyance than pain, sticking the end of my index finger in my mouth as I turned to him to glare. “What?”

He seemed unbothered by the fact that I'd just gained a battle wound because of him. “I’m going out. You wanna come Christmas shopping?” He seemed to register what was laying on the desk in front of me, and his lips twitched. “Maybe buy yourself some new underwear?”

“These still have plenty of life in them,” I said defensively. “What if I threw you out every time you needed sewn up?”

Sam rolled his eyes, taking a loud bite of something, and I stared.

“Dude. What are you eating?”

He held it up. “It’s a carrot, Dean. You should try them sometime. Anyway, if you wanna come with, I’m leaving in 10. Put some real clothes on, please?”

“You’re eating a whole ass raw carrot?” I said in reply. I crinkled my noise as he looked at me in exasperation before finally glancing down at the date on my phone. It was December 10th—15 days before Christmas. I hadn’t started any shopping yet, so it probably wasn’t a bad idea to tag along. “Yeah, I’ll be up in a minute.”

He nodded. “Meet you at the car,” he said, pulling the door closed on his way out. I knew that was his attempt at telling me to get my ass up and get changed sooner rather than later.

I sighed and shed my comfy old robe. I didn’t care what Sam had to say about it, it was the best article of clothing I’d ever owned. I rifled through my dresser for a clean pair of jeans and shirt, changing into them quickly before swiping some deodorant under my arms for good measure. I slipped my feet into my boots and grabbed my jacket off the hook on the back of the door on my way out.

The bunker was quiet as I made my way up to the garage to meet Sam; I guessed Cas had taken Jack on another one of their father-son outings. They often went bird watching, or fed the homeless, or even just took simple walks through the downtown area together. We’d started trying to get Jack out more after he’d expressed that not getting social interaction was difficult for him. Allowing him to stretch his wings, so to speak, was not only good for his mental health, it kept him off edge— which meant less of a chance of a simple family argument leveling the bunker. Cas commandeered most of these trips with Jack alone, which, as much as it pained me to admit, was a good thing. The more he was out, the fewer awkward encounters we’d have with each other. And after our cozy cuddle session in the queer crime den, those had increased tenfold.

I was a bad actor. Well actually, to my credit, I was a good actor, but I was infuriatingly bad when it came to Castiel. There was no way to mask my heart rate or blush from him, and that was all I seemed capable of anymore when I saw him. So, for all intents and purposes, I avoided him. If he sat at dinner with us, I took my plate to my room. I skipped our weekly movie night. I’d hardly spoken a word to him since the investigation. I knew it wasn’t healthy; it was probably even bordering on childish. But it was the only way I knew how to cope. I’d tried it the other way; I’d tried to play it cool and pretend these feelings didn’t exist for a long time, and it just wasn’t working anymore. I didn’t want him to leave, but I also couldn’t let him see the effect he had on me until I got this sh*t under control. So rather than forcing him away, I’d just stay away myself. It wasn’t so bad. Gave me time to catch up on my reading (and by reading, I meant I’d found a badass comic series online about f*cked up egotistical superheroes and the little guys having to take them out. It seemed fitting.)

I reached the top of the stairs leading into our garage and approached Baby. Sam was already seated in the passenger seat. I sat down, pulled the door closed and twisted the key in the ignition, listening to the familiar roar of the engine starting. It wasn’t until I adjusted my rear-view mirror that I saw the two faces in the back, staring at me with near identical pairs of piercing blue eyes.

“I didn’t realize he was coming,” I blurted, not thinking. It came out sounding far harsher than it had in my head, and I instantly cursed myself for saying it out loud.

Sam turned to look at me with wide eyes in disbelief, clearing his throat and turning the radio up loudly, and I heard Jack shift uncomfortably in the backseat. I didn’t have to specify who I meant; everyone knew, and my dumbass had declared it to the world. “Sorry,” I said quietly, as I shifted into drive.

“No need,” Cas replied coolly, and I sighed. This was going to be a fun trip.

****

The drive to the mall itself was silent apart from a staticky local station playing Christmas carols; you could cut the tension in the car with a knife. Jack’s nervous energy was becoming an almost palpable chill behind me as he wrung his hands, and the air seemed to crackle slightly. I noticed I was having to turn defrost on more frequently than usual. Sam stared out his window stiffly, looking irritated. The only one of them I couldn’t spare a glance at was Cas.

Once we’d pulled into a parking spot and killed the engine, Sam twisted in his seat to level a look at the two of us.

“Look. I’ve been trying really hard to mind my own business. But whatever fight you guys had, can you drop it long enough for us to get through Christmas shopping? This is supposed to be a happy time of year and I’m finally at a point in my life where it’s becoming one. But Dean, you’re being a dick. And quite frankly, you’ve been acting like one for about a week now.”

“We didn’t have a fight,” I said in a strained tone. My fists were tight on my thighs. “You just didn’t tell me who all was coming.”

Cas was silent in the backseat.

“I shouldn't have to; we all live together. If you can’t pull your sh*t together enough to get through the store, just sit in the car, man.” He looked disappointed. “Whatever happened, you two are family. Figure it out.”

He opened the door and got out, and silently, the three of us followed suit. A man dressed as Santa Claus waved a bell at the entrance to the mall, and Sam absently reached in his pocket and threw a few dollar bills into the bucket.

“God bless you, sir,” the man said, and Sam smiled tightly at him.

After we’d all made it into the building, he grabbed a cart and gave Cas, Jack, and I long looks. “Okay. Ringers on, we meet back here in what, hour and a half? Sound good?”

“Sounds good!” Jack chirped back happily, grabbing a basket.

“Jack, you’re going with one of us,” Sam laughed. He glanced up then, and his lips twitched. “Oh, and Dean?”

“Hm?” I grunted, hands in my pockets.

“You and Cas are standing under the mistletoe. Maybe you should kiss and make up.”

I slowly looked up and saw the greenery dangling above us, clenching my teeth. Expressionless, I walked past Sam and grabbed a cart of my own before taking off into the store.

****

I hated shopping. I especially hated shopping when I purposefully had to act like whatever I picked out was bought without putting hours of thought into it. Nothing in this department store was good enough for Cas. No amount of cologne (his scent had never been anything less than extraordinary), or fancy clothing (he was pretty content in his normal nerd ass get up), or alcohol (we had all he could desire at home, and anyway, he wasn’t much of a drinker) would ever be even remotely good enough for a Christmas present. I spent too long at the jewelry counter, gnawing my lip as I looked over everything and tried too hard to not focus on the silver wedding bands staring me in my face. An associate saw me and came over to check on me.

“Anything I can help you find, hon? Looking for a ring for your special girl?”

I sighed. “Nah. Just browsing.” I gripped the cart handle and turned away, and I heard her voice over my shoulder.

“Are you sure? We’re doing a ‘His and Hers’ special right now!”

I scowled and kept moving, not granting her a reply. I stared down at my cart. I’d found Sam several new flannels and a pair of wireless earbuds, and Jack was going to be getting a paint by number canvas, a new pajama set, and the last two books in the Lord of the Rings series. They’d both been easy enough to shop for. But my time was wearing thin and when it came to Cas, the idea of material items always fell short. I felt my phone buzzing in my pocket and I turned off the main straightaway into an aisle before digging it out. It was Sam.

“Yeah?” I asked, holding the phone to my ear.

“Hey, you about done? Cas is paying now, then I think we’re gonna head out to the car to wait if that’s cool.”

“Yeah, uh. Sounds good,” I said half heartedly.

“Are you sure? If you need more time, I’m sure Cas and Jack won’t mind using their wings and leaving us the car. Maybe I can help?” His voice was gentle, like he was trying to reconcile for calling me a dick before.

I looked over with a frown and realized I was standing in the underwear aisle. I snatched a pack of black socks off of the shelf and threw them into the cart. “Nah, man, just finished up. I’ll meet you up there.”

“Alright, awesome. See you in a few,” he said.

I hung up and looked down at the socks with disgust before making my way back towards checkout.

****

The trip home was slightly less tense due to Jack’s excited chattering about how he knew we were going to just love the things he’d picked out for us, his arms curled protectively around the opaque bags in his lap. He’d been temporarily pacified, but I knew he still felt that something was off just as much as the rest of us did.

I dug my phone out of my pocket as the Impala crept up to the seemingly innocuous area of brush in front of our massive garage entrance. Once I’d pressed the pad of my thumb to the scanner of the app, the cement tunnel’s entrance opened slowly and allowed us inside. I felt my nerves calming some the further up into the garage we got. I was only a matter of minutes from being able to escape back to my room and call this nightmare of an outing over.

Everyone had once again lapsed back into silence by this point, and we walked, almost single file, down the stairs and into the war room. The quiet was not companionable; in fact, it reminded me of the kind of stillness that occurs just before a deadly storm.

I heard Cas’s bags hit the table behind me. He waited until Sam and Jack had walked down the hallway ahead of us, then grabbed my arm. “Dean.”

I fought the urge to flinch as I turned to him and met his eyes. “Can we not do this, man?” I asked softly. “I’m not mad at you for anything, swear. Just let it go, okay?” I moved to tug out of his grip, and he frowned.

“Dean, sit.” His voice was gentle, but commanding.

I was surprised at his forwardness. I found myself pulling the chair back from the table and sitting down with a frown. If there was going to be a fight, we might as well get it out of the way. My heart was beating against my rib cage as if it were trying to rip itself free, but I’d learned to ignore its traitorous antics by this point.

Castiel’s eyes were pained as he met mine. “I know there’s something going on.” His hands were deep in the pockets of his coat. I watched incredulously as he toed at the floor, seemingly uncomfortable.

“Nothing’s going on. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said gruffly. I put my own eyes in my lap and kept them there; there was no way I could continue this lie while looking at him.

“You don’t want me around anymore.” It wasn’t a question. His voice was sad. Resigned.

I found my gaze snapping back to his face in spite of myself. I wouldn’t let him blame himself for this, I couldn’t. “That’s not true!” I said in frustration. “I always want you around, man. Always.”

He smiled somewhat, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You don’t have to lie to protect my feelings. I’ve noticed things, Dean. When you’re around me, your respirations increase. You walk the other way as quickly as possible. You were angered that I came along Christmas shopping. It clearly agitates you having to be in my presence. I don’t know what changed between us, but I’m sorry it happened. I don’t want to continue to cause you distress.”

I froze. “What are you saying?” I asked quietly. My voice was steady, but my thoughts were racing.

His expression was somber as he looked back at me for a moment. “I think it’s best if I take some time away from the bunker,” he finally said, looking down.

My stomach sank. He couldn’t leave. I didn’t know how I’d survive him leaving again. I couldn’t f*cking lose him because of my own idiocy. I felt my blood boiling. No matter what I did, I ruined everything. “Why do you do this to me?” I cried, shoving back from the table and standing angrily. Why did he have this effect on me? Why couldn’t I just f*cking be normal?

Cas looked taken aback. “I don’t understand, Dean,” he said in frustration. “I don’t understand what you want from me. I stay away, you get angry. I try to talk to you, you get angry. You used to be my best friend, and now you walk the other direction if we’re in the same room together.” His words seemed to echo mine only two months before.

Terror rose inside of me. Tell him. You have to tell him. You can’t let him walk out. And then the other, louder part of my brain—What are you gonna do, fa*ggot? Profess your undying love? I gripped at the sides of my head, trying to think clearly. “Why can’t you just get it?” I groaned, my stomach twisting. “Why do I have to spell it out for you?” Dean Winchester, the f*cking fairy, the f*cking dick munching sissy, better keep it a secret, boy, what will Sammy think, queers are killed--

“Shut up,” I hissed. I didn’t realize I’d addressed the twisted version of my father’s voice in my head out loud until Cas flinched.

“Alright. I’ll be on my way as soon as I say goodbye to Jack.”

“No! Damn it, that’s not what I meant, not you, I—” I made a growl of frustration, heart pounding in my chest harder than before. I wondered vaguely if I could have a heart attack at my age. I couldn’t lose him again. I couldn’t. “You can’t walk out, you son of a bitch, I need you!”

Cas’s eyes were gentle. “You don’t need me, Dean. I’m not leaving to make you feel guilty. I’m leaving so you don’t have to hide in your own home anymore.”

“Cas,” I begged. “Don’t do this, man. I’m sorry. I’ll…I’ll do better. I’ll be better.” My voice broke as I said the words. My anger turned into despair. Once again, I’d failed someone I loved. Once again, I’d been cold and pushed them away until it was too late. “I don’t hate you. I’m not mad at you. Listen to me, okay? Please.” I hated that I was begging. I hated that my eyes were stinging. I hated that I couldn’t just say the f*cking words.

sh*t’s so nasty, Dean, just not natural, better man up, better not let him know what a f*cking failure you are...

Cas looked at me in frustration as I fought the silent war waging in my head. “Dean, I don’t—”

f*ck it.

“Listen,” I stressed again, swallowing. I felt tears in my eyes. “Just listen.” I needed him to understand what I meant, for better or for worse. Once it was out there, he could decide whether I was worth staying around for. But he had to know the truth.

As I stared him down, fists clenched, I prayed harder than I ever had. I let every emotion and thought wash over me to its fullest extent, knowing he would pick them up. The dam broke and everything I’d held back around him for months came flooding through. How much I adored the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck. How safe I’d felt in his arms the night he’d carried me down the flight of stairs in that warehouse, how my head had lain against his chest. The way my stomach did flips when his blue eyes burned into mine. How weightless I felt when I got to hear him laugh. Like I was high. I thought about the dream I’d had of our apple pie life at our kid’s graduation ceremony. I thought about the relief in our first hug, being reunited in Purgatory. How I wished I could have only held him longer. The stupid ass butterflies I got when he smiled at me. How when we’d lain side by side in that bed, lips grazing, I’d wanted to press mine to his so badly that it had almost been a physical pain. How desperately I needed him to stay because while my feelings for him were something I couldn’t say aloud yet, they were all consuming and all I wanted was him, I wanted to kiss him, and hold him, and f*cking have him, and…

Cas froze, his lips parted and his brow knit above wide eyes in disbelief. He didn’t speak, only let out a hard breath like he’d been kicked in the stomach. His hand shot out and caught the back of the chair next to him as he stared at me. I hid my face from his reaction, angry tears in my eyes, and turned to leave the room as quickly as possible. I heard my heartbeat in my ears, and I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it there. I’d tried. I’d done all I could, and he’d made his decision.

I dimly heard my name but I kept walking. After a few seconds fingers closed around my wrist firmly, and with more strength than Cas usually exerted if he wanted to give me the option to get away. “Dean,” he said, commanding my attention. I looked back at him through bleary eyes, teeth gritted.

“What?” I hissed, attempting to jerk away to no avail.

I was in shock at the overwhelming emotion in his eyes. His breathing was unsteady. “Me too,” he said weakly.

I don’t know what happened. I don’t know why I allowed myself to collapse into his arms. Hugging him desperately, his rough cheek against mine, clinging to every part of him I could hold. I couldn’t let go.

Castiel clutched me back tightly, his arms trembling around me. “For so long,” he whispered, his lips at my ear. “For so many years.” He put his forehead against my shoulder, letting out a shaky breath.

I held him there wordlessly and found myself threading my fingers into his hair. I couldn’t understand it. I couldn’t fathom it. There wasn’t a single thing about me that should make him want me. I’d been so cruel to him so many times. Fist fights. Arguments. Hell, I’d kicked him out. I was angry and volatile and no good for anything but hunting and a bad joke now and then. I pulled back to look at him. “Why?” I whispered, shaking my head quickly. “Why me?”

He raised a hand to my cheek, and I flinched back. He dropped it wordlessly.

“I’m sorry,” I said, realizing how stupid that must look right about now. “I’m sorry, I’m trying—”

“Dean, you’re perfect,” he interrupted. “I understand, please don’t apologize. Please.”

I don’t know whether seconds or minutes of silence passed between us as we continued to hug each other. I noticed, funnily enough, that my heart had calmed. My nerves were no longer twisting my gut; the perpetual state of nausea I’d been living in had passed. But I felt lightheaded; like this was another cheap angel trick that was going to be pulled out from under my feet at any moment.

Cas smiled slightly at me as I finally pulled back, his own face a mirror of what I’m sure mine showed. Disbelief. Joy. Hesitation. Love.

“What are we gonna do?” I asked quietly. The fear was unmistakable in my voice. I didn’t know where to go from here. The damage was done, and as beautifully as it had turned out—I couldn’t believe this angel felt the same way about me—I had no clue what this meant for us from here on out.

Cas took a deep breath. “Well,” he said. “First, we’re going to take our Christmas shopping to our rooms so that no one finds what we bought them.”

I huffed out a laugh, shaking my head. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

“The only thing this changes is our knowledge, until you decide if you want it to be more,” he replied softly.

I took a deep breath. “I want you,” I managed. Saying it out loud felt like a fist in my stomach, but I had to clarify. I couldn’t let him think anything else. Not after all this. “I want you, but I’m learning.”

Cas nodded solemnly, but didn’t speak.

“Tell me what’s going on in your head,” I pleaded. “I can’t read you like you can read me, man.”

“I’m shocked,” he said softly, though a wide smile was spreading across his face. “And I’m not entirely convinced you aren’t playing a joke on me. I don’t understand why you, who have all the women who look at you fall at your feet, would…” He swallowed, shaking his head.

I actually laughed at that, though it was humorless. “Dude, you’re an angel. I’m a 43 year old guy with anger issues. You’re questioning me?”

“If only you could see yourself through my eyes,” he murmured, taking a deep breath.

I bit the inside of my cheek and looked away. “How are you shocked? How did you not pick up on it?” I asked, shoving my hands in my pockets.

Cas looked surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been tiptoeing around you for months. I can’t even see you without…” I trailed off, sighing, as I gestured vaguely. Communication was going to be an issue.

“I never could’ve imagined...the thought didn’t even cross my mind. You’re always so calm and cool with the women around you.”

"Because they never mean anything to me, damn it,” I said under my breath. “But, look, I know you felt the...things I was feeling. You never brought them up.”

“I try not to intrude on your emotions,” he said. “I feel them. But…unless you’re in a dangerous situation, I try to take a step back. You’re your own person, Dean. I don’t have a right to be inside your head at all times.”

I stared. “You can turn it off?”

He smiled. “No. But I can choose not to make conclusions and remind you of our connection.” He paused a moment. “May I touch you?” he asked quietly, and I took a deep breath and nodded.

He stepped forward, and to my surprise he didn’t attempt a gentle caress or reach for my hand. He hugged me again. I felt some of my nerves loosen as I breathed in his scent. His hugs were familiar. His hugs were comfortable. They weren’t scary or new.

“I have a lot of issues,” I warned, squeezing him to me. “I don’t…I don’t know how I’ll do with them.”

“I’ll be with you every step of the way,” he promised. “We will figure things out in your time, Dean. Never assume that I’ll push for more than you can offer me. To know you feel the same as I do…I’d be content hugging you like this for an eternity.”

I felt my face flaming, and my instant reflex was to make a scathing remark. I held it back, barely, and simply put my cheek against his. I could do this. A thought crossed my mind, and I pulled back suddenly. “Wait. So, the ghost case…when we were upstairs.”

“The only pretending I was doing that night was attempting to look as if I were,” he admitted. “I pretend every day, but that was as close to the truth as I’d ever gotten. It’s a role I know well. But I’ve gotten worse at playing it these last months.”

Everything was coming together. The way he’d stayed away when I had Marie over; the way he’d said it was hard to be around when I was with her. How he’d said he wasn’t good at keeping things to himself. I thought back further and wondered how many of his decisions had been influenced by more than brotherly love. Offering to come with me to sacrifice myself to kill Amara? Throwing the Molotov co*cktail at Michael to give me five minutes with my brother and dying because of it? Hell, saying yes to Lucifer? “You said years,” I finally said quietly. “How many?”

“Since I rebelled. Since I defied Zachariah and chose you. Naomi tried so desperately to fix me. ‘Re-educate me’…so many times. She was disgusted that I’d fallen for a human.” He paused, as if he were tasting those words on his tongue for the first time. “For so long they tried to cure me…but they couldn’t. Because there was nothing wrong with me,” he said resolutely. I had a feeling he was speaking more about me than himself.

Fallen for a human. I sat down hard in my chair at the table. Cas squatted in front of me, watching me as if he were truly seeing me for the first time. His eyes were large and serious.

“I can’t imagine how difficult this was for you,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry I ever made you feel like you couldn’t come to me with this. I’m sorry I…I never had the nerve to say it first.”

“It’s not you,” I managed. As I said it, the man’s face loomed in my thoughts. The man who’d left me so scared to admit my feelings to myself, let alone Cas, that I’d been conditioned into nausea every time I thought of them.

“Your father,” Cas said grimly. I didn’t know if he’d read my emotions or was making an educated guess off of what he knew about him. Either way, I nodded and looked away quickly as I felt the stinging threat of tears in my eyes.

“He made you feel as if it weren’t acceptable,” he sighed. It wasn’t a question.

I clenched my jaw, wiping angrily at my eyes before actual tears fell. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” he argued gently. Slowly, giving me time to pull away, he put his hand over mine and squeezed.

I met his eyes and curled my fingers around his for the briefest second, feeling the weight of his hand in mine, before shaking my head and pulling away. “Sorry I dragged you into my f*cked up sh*t.”

“I dragged you into mine first,” Cas said pointedly.

I laughed at that, sniffling. “Yeah, you did. Asshole.”

He smiled. “Forgive me for this. But I…don’t want to be apart from you right now.” I watched the corners of his eyes crinkle as he said it, and he seemed…shy.

“I don’t either,” I admitted softly.

“Would you like to watch a movie?” he suggested, looking to me hopefully.

I met his eyes nervously. “I, um. Sure.”

He grinned. This was the most I’d seen him smile in months. “Alright. We should put our shopping up first, and I’ll meet you there.”

I thought back to earlier at the store with a flash of embarrassment. “Cas.”

“Hm?” he replied, standing to gather his bags off the table.

“I, uh. I’m going to have to find you a new present. I bought you socks.”

He laughed out loud at that, scooping up his two bags as he did so. “And I’ll love them dearly,” he replied, one corner of his mouth rising in a crooked smile as he hauled his stuff off down the hallway.

I took a deep breath before rising from my chair. All the time I’d spent terrified Cas was going to find out my dirty secret. All the time I’d spent convincing myself there was no way he could ever return the feelings I had towards him. It still didn’t feel real. I was already half convincing myself that he’d misinterpreted what I’d said.

You need to give him more credit. Claire’s voice echoed firmly in my head. Cas wasn’t an idiot, and he’d said himself that he’d fallen for me. Whether I could wrap my mind around it or not, that angel saw at least a fraction of something that I saw in him.

I shook my head, feeling faint, as I collected my own shopping bags. I carried them to my room silently and sat down on the edge of my bed for a minute, reaching in my pocket for my phone. It was stupid, but I wanted to tell her. I noticed my hands were still shaking as I pulled her contact up and sent a quick text.

‘I told him.’

No sooner than I'd locked my phone, it immediately buzzed.

‘!!!’

I smiled down at the three exclamation points. Her excitement was palpable. I hadn’t had time to reply before the second text came through.

‘Well?’

That really was the million dollar question, wasn’t it? Well? What now? I couldn’t tell what was going to happen a few months from now, or a few weeks, or even by the end of the night. But I knew that right now, I had an angel who, for whatever reason, felt more than friendship towards me, and had for a long time. I had told him my world shattering secret and it had gone better than I could have ever hoped. And I was headed to the Dean cave to watch a movie with him, just the two of us. There was no way to sum up what had just happened over a text message. It was impossible to put how I felt into words. So, knowing it would drive Claire insane, my reply was simple. It said nothing at all, yet it also said everything.

‘:)’.

Chapter 10

Chapter Text

Cas’s POV:

Dean Winchester lit a fire in me that I had never before experienced in my existence. As an angel in the garrison, I had never felt emotion with the intensity of which I felt it on earth. I’d never experienced much of any emotion, truly. Pulling Dean from Hell had simply been an order I was following—I’d put little thought into it as I’d descended into the pit, wrapped an arm tightly around his struggling soul, and hauled the human up into his body. Rebuilding him, re-crafting his DNA and making him whole again, had been a clinical necessity and nothing more. After carefully waiting to hear the first few stuttering beats of his heart as it reignited, I’d quickly gone in search of a vessel with which to present myself to him for his mission. As Heaven had triumphantly declared Dean Winchester is saved, the swell of pride in my chest had been for successfully carrying out my duties, not for saving a human life.

Frankly, Dean had frustrated me to no end in our first months together. While I’d tried to come to grips with the limitations of a vessel and adjust to life on earth while also directing the Winchester brothers on preventing the 66 seals from being broken, Dean had a remark or contradiction to the plan at every turn. More than once I’d had to remind myself that he was chaotically human in the most vital sense of the word; he fought with emotion, and his heart, which I was not used to.

The moment I discovered I felt something for Dean was when I made the conscious decision to rebel against Heaven and save him from Zachariah forcing his hand in becoming Michael’s sword. I knew the moment I pulled him from that room after we found out the plan to finish the seals so that Michael and Lucifer could have their final showdown, my life in Heaven would be over as I knew it. And I didn’t care. I wanted no part of what it had become.

That feeling grew more into love every day, though I was unable to identify it as such for much longer than I should have. With every sarcastic smirk and swagger and self-sacrificial plan, each passing year I knew I was more and more under this man’s spell—that there was nothing I wouldn’t do for him.

When he’d turned to me, eyes frenzied, and begged me to listen, the force of his thoughts and emotions had nearly doubled me over as if by a physical blow. I’d never been subjected to this before. I felt the familial warmth of my found family’s love; I felt the pleasure twisted into stomach sinking pain when Dean was with a woman. But this had been overwhelming. There was no way to put into words the sentiment that Dean had flung towards me, but the intent was clear. This beautiful man loved me back.

Even now, nearly a week later, the thought had me weak at the knees. Romantic entanglements between humans and angels had never been acceptable, but that was due to the possibility of creating a Nephilim. Such a problem was a nonissue here. I laughed out loud to myself at the fact that I was even pondering this—that somehow, some way, I was in a position where the feelings I had for Dean could ever be even remotely returned. It felt as if at any moment an elaborate cosmic joke would be revealed to me. That Gabriel would come around the corner laughing at his prank, or even that Chuck himself had come back to ruin me.

It made no sense for Dean Winchester to want me the way that I wanted him.

Little had changed between us in the last week apart from Dean’s desire to be away from me. Instead, we kept a close proximity at nearly all times; just the slightest brushing of hands, a small shared smile at the dinner table. He no longer had as much anxiety radiating off of him, and I felt guilty knowing that I had caused so much of that. If I had come to him sooner with my own feelings, perhaps much of his struggle would have lightened. I also knew, however, that John Winchester’s disapproval was a constant nagging hum in Dean’s head. I was no longer a creature of violence, but the urge to ascend into that man’s Heaven and drag him down where he rightfully belonged gnawed at me. I had never hated another like I hated John. I’d known he was neglectful to his sons, but after Dean’s confession at Thanksgiving in particular, the thought that he was enjoying any sort of paradise made my skin crawl. I knew better than to speak to Dean about the extent of my hatred for his father because despite any of Dean’s own feelings, part of him was still deeply conditioned to loyalty and it would only end up an argument if he felt he had to defend him. Instead, all I could do was be there to remind him that the harmful things his father had instilled in him about himself were not true.

While nothing romantically had truly happened between Dean and myself, I think Sam noticed the shift. At the very least, he’d noticed that we were no longer fighting and he was very pleased with that fact. When he announced that Eileen was coming down to stay through the holidays, his gaze seemed to flicker to Dean and I for a tad too long. Dean hadn’t seemed to notice however, and that was all that mattered. I didn’t care what Sam knew or didn’t know. I only cared that Dean not feel outed before he was ready. I didn’t know if he would be able to come back from that.

The rush to get the bunker in order for Christmas had begun. The boys had never really decorated before Jack came along, but now Dean and Sam were hauling an eight foot tall spruce tree down the metal staircase while Jack stood at the bottom, beaming. Dean had refused to let me carry it (to Sam’s exasperation) and said he was a man and he could do it himself. All the same, I watched his red face and scraped hands anxiously as he struggled to haul his end to the tree stand.

“I really can finish it off, you’ve proven your point—” I started, taking a step towards them.

“We got it, Cas,” Dean managed, grunting, and I saw Sam’s strained expression as he rolled his eyes and winced when the tree’s needles dragged across his cheek.

“This is ridiculous and unnecessary,” I sighed, but I restrained myself and let them maneuver the huge tree into its stand by themselves.

When they were finished, Dean collapsed into a chair hard, sweat rolling down his temple. He saw my expression and grinned as he wiped a hand across his forehead. “See? Piece of cake.”

I frowned and touched two fingers to his damp skin without waiting for permission. He only had minor scrapes, but seeing his skin marred in any way was difficult for me. In order to avoid undue suspicion, I approached Sam and did the same.

“Damn, now Sammy’s not gonna be able to brag to Eileen about the battle scars he got fighting the Christmas tree,” Dean teased as he watched the wound on Sam’s cheek close.

Sam gave him a sarcastic smile in return, sliding his middle finger up the side of his face in a mock scratch of his skin.

My attention returned to the scene at hand as Jack clapped his hands together once in satisfaction, a wide smile on his face. “Time to decorate it!”

“Give me a minute, kid,” Dean said, pulling the hem of his shirt up to dry his forehead. “Trying to get my heart rate back under 200, here.”

I glanced at him, and he scowled. “Not a word.”

I smiled and raised my hands in surrender before turning to Jack. “I’ll help you decorate it.”

He didn’t hesitate to grab a string of lights off of the war room table and thrust it into my hands. “Cool! Thanks.” He took a spool of shiny silver garland and attempted to begin threading it around the tree’s wide base, and Dean jumped up like he’d been electrocuted.

“Okay, hold on, hold on,” he said grouchily, but his eyes were soft. “We gotta do one thing at a time or it’ll all get tangled. Lights first, remember?”

I was filled with warmth as I watched him gently take the garland from Jack and set it back on the table. Dean was a good father. This atmosphere suited him—domestic, in his socks in front of the Christmas tree as he put a hand on Jack’s shoulder and started laying out items in the order they belonged. I pulled my eyes away as I slowly took the staircase to a more manageable height for starting the lights, and I saw Sam quickly avert his gaze when my eyes met his.

Yes, he suspected more than he was letting on. That much was evident.

After lights and garland had been painstakingly wrapped around the grandiloquent tree, the four of us on two different floors and leaning precariously over steel railings to accomplish the task, I had to admit that it was a beautiful sight to behold. Silly, perhaps, given its unconnected origins to Christian Christmas, but nice to look at all the same.

Jack was hanging the last of the ornaments when Sam’s phone rattled against the table, and he retrieved it before smiling down at the screen. “Eileen’s here,” he said, turning and taking the stairs nearly two at a time up to the thick steel door of the bunker.

Dean took this opportunity to spare me a soft smile, his cheeks slightly pink. He ran a hand through somewhat damp hair as he fixed me with those irresistible green eyes.

I smiled back broadly; I couldn’t help myself. He truly was beautiful.

I heard the grating noise of the bunker door being dragged open, and glanced up to see Eileen enveloping Sam in a warm embrace. She looked over the railing and waved at all of us, and Dean laughed and clapped his hands before meeting her halfway down the stairs for a hug of his own.

“Eileen!” Jack said happily, smiling from where we’d just noticed he was standing rather precariously on the back of a chair in an attempt to hang the star. He jumped down and landed lightly on his feet before any of us could admonish him for his foolish behavior, and handed the star to her instead. “You’re just in time to put the topper on!”

Eileen took it from him and looked my direction. “What, you aren’t going to make Cas sit on the tree?” she asked. I watched the edge of her mouth tilt up just slightly.

Jack co*cked his head. “I imagine that’d be uncomfortable. Not to mention he’d mess up all of our hard work.”

She laughed, giving me a wink. “You’re probably right,” she told him. “Let’s hang the star, then.”

She ascended the staircase once more, Sam tight on her heels, and put her tongue between her teeth in concentration as she leaned over the metal railing to place the star.

I fought a smile as Sam anxiously reached out as if to steady her and then thought better of it, dropping his arms. It was a wise choice. Eileen was less than appreciative when she was made to feel fragile. I did understand Sam’s frustration, though. I glanced at Dean, who was jabbing his index finger aggressively to the left in a motion to help her straighten the topper. I had a stubborn thorn of my own.

Dean suddenly gave an enthusiastic double thumbs up, clapping his hands together. “Yes! You’re good!”

Eileen retreated to safety and huffed out a breath before giving everyone a satisfied smile. Anybody got a beer? she signed, starting down the staircase.

“’Atta girl!” Dean grinned. He clapped her on the back as she joined him, and I didn’t miss the soft smile and head jerk he gave me before leading her to the kitchen.

Dean’s POV:

Over the next few days, wherever we could manage without raising suspicion from the rest of the family, Cas and I stole fleeting moments together in my room. Ten minutes here, five minutes there, it felt like we were teenagers skipping class to hookup behind the bleachers—when in fact, nothing more than quiet conversations and shy hand holding had ever taken place between us. My room became our refuge not only because it was the only place I felt safe in this entire bunker, but also in part due to the fact that I wasn’t confident enough to go into his room. That space had always felt so otherworldly and off limits to me, despite being the same basic bedroom set up that the rest of us had. Castiel was not the same as we were.

Cas always maintained respectful boundaries when he came to see me; I was embarrassed to admit how much having him simply sit next to me on my bed and run a reassuring thumb across the back of my hand while I complained about one thing or another affected me emotionally. But I looked forward to these moments more than he’d ever believe.

His soft knock signaled that he was back again, and I jumped up from my bed quickly. “Come in,” I said under my breath. I knew he would hear.

He entered quickly and closed the door softly behind him before stepping towards me, a gentle smile on his face. “Hello, Dean,” he said.

“Hi,” I grinned, wrapping him in a hug happily.

He squeezed me to him, and I could feel myself melt a bit in his grip. “I very much enjoy getting to hold you like this,” he murmured.

My cheeks flamed at that, and I pulled back, hiding my face. “Yeah, yeah,” I grunted. “Don’t be gay.” I ignored the way his words had pulled at something in my stomach.

“My apologies,” he said, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

I rolled my eyes at that, but didn’t reply.

He reached out slowly to take my hand in his. He always moved so carefully with me, like he thought I was going to run screaming the other direction. Hell, sometimes I wondered myself. I still couldn’t believe I was allowing myself this kind of vulnerability. My eyes were on the floor as his warm thumb slid back and forth across my skin. “Anything new?” he asked.

“In the four hours since we last talked?” I teased.

“I thought perhaps you had realized how asinine it was to want a relationship with me,” he replied. His tone was light, but I saw something flicker in his eyes, like it was a real fear.

“Not likely,” I scoffed, but the butterflies started in again. Hearing those words out loud did something to me that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. A relationship. The angel standing in front of me was in a relationship with me. For all intents and purposes, if I was able to get my head out of my ass, we could have whatever we wanted together, and that was something I’d never afforded myself the possibility of.

He smiled slightly, and it took everything in me not to throw myself back into his arms right then. “Well, good,” he replied quietly, giving my hand a small squeeze.

Despite my best efforts, I heard Dad’s taunting voice in my head at that. I pulled my hand away with a sigh, and made a show of scratching at my cheek with it so that it wouldn’t seem as rude of an action. “You wanna go watch a movie in the Dean cave?” I blurted. It was a dick move to change the subject, and I knew it, but I clearly wasn’t capable of having that conversation right now.

Cas looked surprised, but thankfully he didn’t seem upset. His smile widened. “Of course. When?”

“Now’s as good a time as any,” I shrugged. I bit the inside of my cheek as I watched Cas’s eyes crinkle at the corners. He was seriously more beautiful than I deserved.

“Should we walk there together?” he questioned, and my heart squeezed. The way he said those words so sincerely, without an ounce of bitterness or sarcasm, hurt. He deserved better than to wonder if it was acceptable to be seen walking together with the guy he was (dating?) seeing. He deserved someone who wanted to scream their love for him through the loudspeakers. I deeply, and none too optimistically, hoped one day I would be capable of giving him that.

“Absolutely,” I replied. “Nothing wrong with that, c’mon. We always have. Not changing that now.”

He fixed me with a long look, as if he wasn’t sure whether I was actually 100% on board with the wild idea of walking through the bunker next to him, and then finally nodded. He opened my bedroom door and gestured for me to go out ahead of him.

“Now, don’t start with any of that ‘ladies first’ crap,” I grumbled halfheartedly, but I walked through the door anyway and out into the hallway.

Cas looked confused. “If holding the door for someone is seen as a gesture of regarding them with femininity in your culture, I have years to atone for with your brother,” he replied, and it took me a second to recognize that his lips were once again twitching towards a smile behind his stoic expression.

I rolled my eyes, chuckling. The guy’s deadpan humor never failed to get me on the rare occasions that it struck. “Alright, alright, fair enough,” I laughed.

We made our way to the cinema room, affectionately nicknamed the Dean Cave, in companionable silence. Sam and Eileen were nowhere to be found (yuck) and I heard Jack’s television in his room as we passed his door, so there were no tagalongs when we settled into the worn secondhand couch to load up Netflix.

“Any requests?” I asked, raising my eyebrows at him.

“Perhaps something with a Christmas theme?” Cas suggested. I heard a note of hope in his voice.

I resisted the urge to groan. I had nothing against Christmas movies, but I’d been planning for a bit more action and a bit less Hallmark domestic. I typed the word ‘Christmas’ into the search bar, and internally rolled my eyes at the results. The Christmas Chronicles, A Christmas Prince, Christmas with a View, A Very Country Christmas.

I continued to scroll through the titles dubiously, until I stopped on one that made me smile. Far too many years in a row, Sammy and I had sat alone as kids on Christmas in cheap motel rooms, trying to find signal on crappy old TVs, and often times this movie had played on repeat all day on the holiday channels. I’d always pretended to hate it, but having that weird little tradition was the closest thing Sam and I ever had to normal growing up.

“Dean?” Cas questioned, and I realized I’d been reminiscing for longer than I’d thought.

“Yeah, sorry,” I said, hitting the play button on the Roku. “How do you feel about A Christmas Story?”

****

By the time that dumbass kid had gotten his tongue frozen to the pole, I was acutely aware that Cas and I had moved, maybe unconsciously, closer together on the couch. I could feel the warmth of his hip and thigh against mine, and while he stared straight ahead at the screen, something in me wondered if he was thinking about our proximity as well or if I was just way too invested. Who was I kidding. Cas wasn’t historically King of Personal Space anyway; I doubted it had even crossed his mind.

I felt like a f*cking seventh grader going on my first date to the theater. There was no reason my heart should have been pounding like it was. I’d watched probably close to a hundred movies with Castiel over the years. This was not anything to be creaming my pants over.

Cas shifted slightly, and I knew he had sensed my anxiety because he glanced over at me. “Are you okay?” he murmured.

I sighed. It wasn’t fair that he could read me so easily when he was so impossible to gauge any sort of emotion on. “We’re close,” I blurted.

A worried expression crossed his face. “Does that make you uncomfortable? I’m sorry, I can move.”

I grabbed his hand so quickly that even I looked down in shock. “No, please don’t,” I said. The words tumbled out on their own accord and sounded pathetic.

He looked to his lap, where my hand curled over his on his thigh, and he smiled. “Okay,” he said quietly, gently twining our fingers together.

My breath caught, and I did consider pulling away then. Holding his hand within the safety of my bedroom behind a closed door was one thing, but it felt very exposed to be doing it in a room where anyone could see it happen.

Dean Winchester, that is the most prudish thing that’s ever entered your brain, I thought to myself, and that broke through my anxiety enough that I smiled back at him and scooted a tad closer still, tucking a leg up under myself as I relaxed slightly. This felt right. None of the rest of the crazy sh*t in my life ever made sense or went the way it should, but here, now, I realized that this was what happiness felt like.

****

The next couple of days continued in a similar pattern. Eileen and Sam were too wrapped up in each other to spare a second glance at the way Cas and I kept going downstairs to watch movies, though I didn’t like the thoughtful glint in Jack’s eye. The film of the day was Krampus, to Cas’s dismay, but I skirted his disapproval by reminding him that technically, it was a movie about Christmas. As this was day three of our mating ritual, I’d worked up to scandalously putting my arm around his shoulders as we watched the movie. It made the most sense to me and came naturally to be the one tucking him into my side, as I’d done my entire life with others, but something about it felt slightly off. I think a small part of me, as ashamed as I was, wished I was the one curled up under his arm. I’d always found myself wondering what that would be like, to feel protected and held like that, but of course that had never been in the cards. Nobody wanted to be with a puss* of a guy who needed held by his girl. That was my job.

“You know,” I said thoughtfully, watching as the monster onscreen burst through the door. “I thought I was on the trail of one of these sons of bitches once. Before I met you.”

He turned his face up to look at me. “You thought?”

“Yeah, turns out it was a couple of pagan gods disguised as pie making suburbians. Way scarier.” I felt Cas’s shoulders shake in a silent laugh as he looked away, and I grinned. “Hey, damn it. They were some real assholes. Wouldn’t even let us cuss.”

“What a monstrosity,” he agreed, straight faced, and I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky I escaped with my life,” I scowled, nudging him.

He chuckled, nestling tighter against me and meeting my eyes with a playful glimmer in his own, and I wanted to kiss him.

The urge came from nowhere and nearly knocked me backwards. I found myself leaning towards him without conscious thought, putting a hand on his leg to brace myself as I did, and only the sudden mocking ‘f*cking queer’ in my head roused me enough to stop. I uncomfortably cleared my throat and pulled away. “Damn it, man,” I sighed. My stomach rolled threateningly, and I wondered how much worse it would make things if I puked on him right now.

Cas was watching me carefully, and he reached his hand back out to me without words.

I took it and looked at the floor. “Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he replied immediately.

I shook my head, sighing. I wanted to hit something. Why couldn’t I just f*cking let myself be happy? Twice now, we’d come within millimeters of sealing a kiss. Both times, back at the Ison House and now, I could’ve had everything I’d wanted if I’d just grown a pair, yet here I was. The only thing standing in my way at this point was me and I knew that.

Cas gently ran the pad of his thumb across the back of my hand in a soothing repetitive motion. Neither of us spoke. My jaw was set as I counted the fibers in the old rug.

I think he knew that no amount of placating words would help in that moment, and none were offered. The only noise in the room came from the tv—a meaningless conversation as the movie carried on. In that moment, I envied those poor sons of bitches. Monsters, I knew. Monsters didn’t require self-reflection, or emotion, or even a second thought in general beyond basic strategy. This? I was in way over my head. Not even my huge self-sacrificial world saving decisions had been this hard, which quite frankly probably said more about my sanity than it did the difficulty of my situation.

I was only aware how deeply my fingernails were in my palm when Cas’s gentle but insisting fingers slid beneath mine to stop me. I did look at him then, and there was a touch of soft concern in his eyes. “Would it be easier if I gave you a moment?” he asked.

I frowned. “Nah. I’m fine. Promise.”

He nodded, but I could tell he didn’t fully believe me. I settled back into the cushions and bit the inside of my cheek hard. His hand remained a warm tether in my own as I focused forward to the screen, and I worked on feigning concentration as my mind continued to spiral.

It was just a kiss (so f*cking nasty). What was stopping me (Might as well suck his dick, sissy)? Cas deserved so much better than me (you’re damn right he does). But God, I needed to feel his lips against mine like a deep ache (you’re a disappointment, Winchester).

The credits rolled, we stood, we held each other for a moment and then we walked back together. Not once did I let my easygoing expression fall. But by the time I reached my bedroom and closed the door behind me, the metallic taste of blood was pooling on my tongue.

****

Having Eileen over brought out a different version of my brother. Sammy smiled so much more when she was around, and it made me happy. He deserved somebody like her. I teased them, but seeing the love in his eyes for her was all I could ever want for him. Dinners were livelier, and Sam, who was usually very content to let me cook, had been making dinner with her nearly every night. I’d even caught him humming a Christmas carol one evening, which he’d denied at once. The menu tonight was a stir fry, courtesy of Eileen, and was actually really good. Everyone ate heartily, apart from Cas of course, who was having his weekly Angel Radio Heaven update with Gabriel in his room, and conversation was light.

“Gotta say, Sammy,” I said, before shoveling another forkful of the peppers and chicken into my mouth. “Might be time to move her in if it means more of this.”

Sam gave a crooked smile, turning and signing what I’d said to Eileen as I hadn’t been facing her when I spoke. He was getting so much better at that; his movements were fluid, and I’d known how much he’d been practicing. I could hold basic conversation now, but Sam was damn near fluent.

Eileen laughed, turning to me. “Couldn’t handle his snoring,” she said in a deadpan tone, and Sam genuinely looked offended for a moment before he caught the joke within her teasing and grinned.

Sam’s phone rang, muffled from his pocket, and he shifted in his chair to pull it out. “It’s Garth,” he said in surprise. He accepted the call and hit speaker before placing the phone on the table.

“Hey Garth, what’s up?” he asked. “You’re on speaker.”

“Sam.” Garth’s usually upbeat voice was subdued. “Hey, man. Hey Dean.”

“Hey Garth,” I said hesitantly, glancing over at Sam at his tone.

Sam’s brow furrowed as he returned my worried look. “You okay, buddy? Bess and the kids, are they okay?” He reached out as if to take the phone off of speaker if necessary.

“Oh, yeah, everyone’s okay, we’re all safe and everything,” Garth assured him, and Sam’s arm retreated in relief. “But you remember Nadine and Kay? Those Hunters who worked the Lamia case with us in Detroit?”

I smiled. I did remember them. The two women had been so obviously in love it was ridiculous, yet pretending otherwise seemed all they knew how to do. I hadn’t admitted it to myself at the time, but there was a reason I’d bonded so quickly with Nadine; insisting she was straight and happy despite being about as convincing as a store Easter Bunny had struck a chord deep down.

I spoke up. “Yeah! I remember ’em, why?”

There was a long pause, then Garth sounded miserable on the other line. “Kay’s dead, guys.”

Jack dropped his fork, and it made a loud clang against the side of his plate as it hit. He’d never even met the pair of Hunters, but his fixation on human life and what happened when it ended was probably appropriate given his occupation.

It felt like rocks were in my stomach as I pushed my plate away.

“What happened?” Sam asked softly. He sighed, quickly signing to Eileen what Garth had said while he waited for a reply.

“Wraith hunt gone wrong, man. I guess it was pretty bad.” His voice sounded choked.

“Is Nadine okay?” I asked flatly.

Garth cleared his throat. “Yeah, she’s alive, if that’s what you mean. Showed up at my door half hysterical though, scared Bess near to death. Saying she never even got to tell her the truth. Never had the chance to show her how much she loved her.” He paused, and I heard him blow his nose.

Sam cleared his throat. “Give her our condolences, man,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I hate to hear that.”

I looked down at the table. Kay had been a good woman, and a great Hunter. We’d only ever crossed paths the one time, but my heart hurt for Nadine.

“Yeah, thanks for letting us know, Garth,” I frowned. His comment about how she’d never been able to show Kay her love unsettled me. I hoped she knew anyway, in those final moments. I prayed she knew.

“You’re welcome, guys. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Love you.”

Sam half smiled at that. “Love you too, man,” he said, ending the call.

My stir fry looked entirely unappetizing now as I stared down at it. Every hunt we went on, I was putting myself in the same position. Not being able to show Cas the extent of my feelings because of my own stupid f*cking hang-ups. I couldn’t imagine having to live with myself if he’d died ever doubting us.

“I’ll have to see if I have Nadine’s number later, give her a call,” Sam sighed. He glanced over. “You okay, Jack?” he asked. My eyes followed his to Jack’s face. He looked entirely zoned out, but he snapped back to attention at his name with a soft serene smile.

“I’m alright. I just wanted a peek, you know? Her Heaven...it’s beautiful.” He said the words gently, and I knew he was doing his part, like he always did, to raise our spirits. Who wouldn’t want to hear with certainty that someone they’d lost was in paradise?

Because I was selfish, however, my mind was elsewhere.

“Hey kiddo, do me a favor next time you’re up there,” I said abruptly. “Tell her that Nadine was in love with her, okay? You gotta tell her. It’s important.”

Jack looked old and wise beyond his years when he smiled at me. “Of course, Dean.”

I nodded curtly at that and stood, picking up my plate of half-eaten stir fry. I cuffed Jack’s shoulder as I left the room and took my dishes to the kitchen. I washed up in silence, then opened the fridge and grabbed a beer. I popped the top off of it before taking a quick swig and sitting it down hard on the counter. I thought about all of my close calls, and how I’d very nearly been taken from this world without Cas knowing how much I lov—cared for him. Hell, if I’d gone in that vampire mishap a few months back, or even from Marie, our last conversation would have likely taken place during our fight. I wasn’t sure exactly how, but it felt like something had clicked after Garth’s words, and I had to get there before I let myself puss* out. My destination was clear in my mind; my thoughts were focused and surprisingly calm, at least for the moment. I wasn’t going to let the same thing happen to me that happened to Kay and Nadine. Cas and I were not going to ever end the way that those two Hunters had. We just weren’t.

I walked down the hall quickly and purposefully, and didn’t stop or slow until I was outside of his door. I took a breath and raised my fist to knock, but the heavy oak swung open before my fist could make contact. Cas was there, his eyes inquisitive. He tilted his head slightly.

“Dean—?”

I pushed him back inside wordlessly, pulling the door shut behind me a bit too hard, and, as if he sensed the urgency in my body language, he let me back him into his room without a fight.

My hand against his chest felt far too intimate in the little space between us once we were inside. I dropped it lamely, taking his hand in mine instead. Castiel’s expression was solemn, but his eyes were wide as I clenched and unclenched my other fist at my side. The first stirrings of self-doubt and nausea had begun creeping up in my gut, and I gritted my teeth and swallowed in an attempt to push it down. Boys don’t kiss boys, Dean. I shook my head once to clear it. I wanted this. I needed this.

Cas was silent, large blue eyes burning into mine as he watched me. With every exhale, I felt his warm breath against my face. It was dizzying, and while it didn’t do much in the way of helping me clear my head, it blurred the lines in the way I needed.

I found it easier to speak when I wasn’t looking directly at him. I fixed my eyes at a point on his shoulder instead, and I felt the gentle squeeze of my hand. “Cas,” I said quietly. Despite barely being able to produce words, my voice was jarring in the otherwise silent room.

“Is everything alright?” he replied. There was a touch of concern in his voice.

“Mmhm,” I managed. I stepped in closer, until I felt the toe of my boot bump his shoe.

Sudden understanding washed over Cas’s face. “Oh,” he replied softly. It was barely a breath. I watched the column of his throat slide down as he swallowed, then back up.

My eyes flickered to his lips as he ran his tongue between them quickly. Slightly chapped, full, his upper lip perhaps a bit too plump to perfectly match the lower. A dramatic Cupid’s bow that extended into a near permanent downturned pout. The small indention under his lower lip that darkened into shadow against the ghost of stubble on his face. The dimple in his chin, seeming a near perfect place to crook my finger. I’d studied every detail of his appearance more times than I cared to admit, but very rarely from this proximity.

And never with this tenderness.

I took a deep breath, centering myself, and raised a slightly trembling hand to his face. Beneath the graze of barely surfaced hair, it was surprisingly soft. He was warm, as well, and I swiped my thumb gently over the swell of his cheek in marvel at the heat.

His eyes closed, a furrow in his brow like he was concentrating. He leaned slightly against my hand and I heard the shaky exhale through his nose. I looked up in surprise as the lights in the room began to buzz and flicker.

“Is that you?” I whispered incredulously.

Cas gave a small affirmative grunt, never opening his eyes.

I stopped in shock and pulled my hand from his cheek slightly. His eyes did open then, and he looked almost offended. Part of me was taken aback by the revelation that I wasn’t the only one sh*tting my pants right now. I’d been so concerned with my own issues that I hadn’t stopped to consider he would be nervous as well. Somehow, that made things easier. As sure as he seemed of himself all the time, watching him fritz the electricity over the fact that I wanted to kiss him was surreal.

While his breathing was uneven, his eyes were sure and free of doubt. He looked over at the lamp and radio accusingly, as if angry that they were blowing his cover. I gently took hold of his chin and pulled his gaze back to mine, the way I’d imagined so many times. A hysterical laugh bubbled up inside of my throat, threatening to spill over my lips, at the fact that this was actually happening. I didn’t have to imagine anymore. I exhaled sharply through my nose and swallowed it down. The last thing I needed was to ruin this by causing the guy to doubt my mental state. Without giving myself another second to think, I leaned in quickly, and I felt a gentle hand go to my waist.

The moment our lips met, every bulb in the room burst and we were plunged into immediate darkness. I jumped involuntarily at the loud sound, letting out a harsh breath as I blinked.

I felt Cas pull away with an embarrassed noise. “I’m sorry—”

“C’mere,” I managed, blindly pulling his face back to mine. He was somewhat scratchy, a slight dry burn that scraped against my own mouth; but apart from that, with the way his lips were soft and pliant against my own, the unlit room concealed the worst of my sin. Our lips melded together as I held him, our noses colliding somewhat awkwardly in the dark. This was the first time since Lisa that I’d kissed someone without the intention of taking them to bed. It was the first time a kiss had been gentle and tentative, without the expectation of more from me or the smell of whiskey on breath. It was warm, and shy, and it was all Cas.

Castiel exhaled shakily as I slowly pulled back, and his hot breath on my face kept exact time with the whining radio static emitting from the ancient stereo on the dresser. It was rare that I was reminded just how much he truly was power incarnate.

“Dean,” he finally whispered. His voice sounded raw. He raised his hand to my cheek, and I kissed his palm.

“That was a long time coming, yeah?” I whispered roughly, feeling the heat in my ears.

There was a beat of silence. “Can we…do that again?” he inquired into the darkness. I grinned in spite of myself. Well, if I was going to hell, I might as well enjoy the ride.

His taste was indescribable. Honey and cinnamon, and so many other things that I couldn’t possibly name. I was instantly addicted. Energy pulsed between us as my hand found the back of his head, threading my fingers into his soft hair and deepening the kiss against my better judgment. I felt his lips part against mine, and just barely, I ran the tip of my tongue against his lower. He shuddered into the kiss, making a soft sound of contentment, and my brain registered two frantic pairs of footsteps nearing the door.

I pulled back quickly, panicked, and stumbled backwards away from him. I was aware of the pull of a thin strand of saliva connecting us for a split second before the warmth of Cas’s body was gone and it separated, landing cold on my lip. Sam opened the door without knocking, holding a flashlight up and aiming a gun. “Cas? Have you seen Dean? The lights just shattered throughout half the bunker, I’m worried something’s going on and I can’t find him—” he paused as his flashlight scanned over me and into the corner where Cas had been. It was empty. “Dean?”

“Hiya, Sammy,” I said lamely, wanting to sink into the floor. “Mind pointing that thing elsewhere?” f*ck. f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck...

“What in the hell’s going on? Where’s Cas? The lights…?” Sam’s expression was blank, and he hesitantly lowered his gun and left only the flashlight focused on me. His confused face would’ve been laughable if he hadn’t just found me in Cas’s bedroom with the door shut, probably sporting kiss swollen lips.

I shifted, crossing my arms self-consciously as the gears turned in my head. “It’s fine. All good. It was Cas that blew them. We, uh. Had a fight.”

Sam paused, and after a second let out a breath of relief. “Again? I thought things were better between you two. Some fight, man. What the hell happened?”

I was glad the narrow beam of light concealed most of my face. “Don’t really wanna talk about it, Sammy,” I said in annoyance. My stomach was still doing flips. “But everything’s fine. Swear.”

Sam looked at me in disbelief. “Cas just went avenging angel on the bunker and shattered all the bulbs on this floor, and you don’t think that’s worth talking about? I’m not good with that, Dean.”

“Don’t know what to tell you, dude, but I’m good,” I replied. I felt his eyes on me and fought the urge to shrink back against his scrutinizing gaze.

Eileen peeked in at me from around the doorframe, then she signed something too quickly for me to catch and stared pointedly at Sam. He looked at her for a long moment, then back to me. I watched his shoulders slump.

“Fine,” he said after a long pause. “But you’re going to town for new bulbs.”

“Fine,” I shot back, but there was no real venom in my voice.

Sam kept looking at me for a moment longer, raising one eyebrow, before he sighed and both he and Eileen retreated back up the hall.

I waited about thirty more seconds to ensure they were actually gone before I let a wide grin spread across my face, and slowly, almost reverently, I touched my lips. I’d kissed Cas. I’d kissed him. The gravity of that fact began to sink in as I stood alone in the dark, and my smile faded as quickly as it had appeared. I’d kissed Cas. Trembling fingers still pressed to my lower lip, I felt the betraying hitch of breath in my throat; I was eternally grateful that Cas wasn’t there when my face crumpled and, despite fighting it with everything I had, I began to cry.

Chapter 11

Chapter Text

“Son of a bitch!”

The cold wet ball of snow bounced off my left cheek hard, sending a spray of ice over my face and into my eyes. Jack giggled near maniacally as Sam reared back to throw another snowball from across the hood of the Impala, and I just barely dodged it as it whizzed by my ear.

“Dude,” I groaned, rubbing the spot near my ear where it had hit me. “Pretty sure there was a rock in that.”

“Whole lot of words to say you can’t handle a snowball fight,” Sam taunted, and as he spoke I caught another blast of slush to the back of the head.

“Hey! What the hell—?” I turned, and Jack was kneeling to scoop up more snow. He paused slightly at my expression, then must’ve decided I wasn’t a threat because he continued to pack it tightly into his hands.

“Alright, that’s it,” I growled, setting down the six pack of beer I’d picked up on our run into town on the hood of the car. I ducked to the side as Jack’s second assault came hard, then kneeled and dug my hands into the bitter cold of the snow to form a snowball of my own.

I hadn’t even fully stood up yet when I caught two more snowballs, one to the back of my jacket (thankfully) and another smack in the forehead.

I threw the one I had in my hand at Jack and quickly grabbed another handful, not even bothering to pack it together as I lurched forward and grabbed him around the waist. He squealed in protest as I shoved my hand down the back of his shirt, laughing all the while, and I’d barely let go of him when it felt like a semi hit me from the back.

Sam’s arm was around me as he plowed me into the ground. “f*ck,” I gasped as I landed damn near face first in the snowdrift near the road. “Hey! Hey, damn it, this isn’t fair!” I struggled and aimed knees and elbows at the f*cking giant on top of me until, satisfied, I heard a grunt and Sam rolled off into the snow next to me. “What the hell kind of two on one bullsh*t is this?” I managed, struggling to catch my breath as I sat up. Snow tumbled down the collar of my shirt and up under my flannel on to my stomach, and I continued to curse under my breath as I laid there, too winded to get up. Damn, I was getting old.

Sam rolled to his feet and held an arm out to me, his hair windswept and the tip of his nose bright red. He was grinning.

“Go away,” I groaned. I took his hand anyway despite my words and he hauled me to my feet. When I looked over, Jack was also lying on his back in the snow. He was dragging his legs and arms back and forth, and it took me a second to realize he was making a snow angel. He sat up and shook snow out of his hair before carefully standing, making sure he kept his feet in the imprint of his body before lightly leaping out of the way.

“I made Cas!” he smiled.

I pretended to squint at it. “Nah, it doesn’t look grouchy enough.”

I shivered as I walked back over to grab the beer. Every step I took sent fresh waves of snow against my skin, and I glared at Sam again for good measure.

The three of us entered the bunker still chattering to each other. I stamped my boots off at the entrance and smiled in spite of myself as Jack copied me dutifully. The poor kid was wearing sneakers and I knew his feet had to be soaked, but he didn’t complain. His blonde hair stood on end with ice melting from the tips. He was a regular Jack Frost if I’d ever seen one.

We’d gone in town for last minute Christmas dinner supplies. It was Christmas Eve, and we’d left Cas and Eileen here to keep an eye on the turkey that was going on three hours in the oven. Cas must have told her he heard us come in, because they both entered the war room as we trekked down the stairs. They saw the three of us, covered in the quickly melting remnants of snow and with splotches of color high on our cheeks, and exchanged a look before turning back to us.

It took everything in me not to bound down the stairs into Cas’s arms. His trench coat was off, which was a rare occurrence, and his sleeves were pushed up to the elbows. I could tell he’d been attempting to help Eileen bake because there was a splatter of flour on his suit jacket.

I settled for a smile, and quickly had to look away when he returned it. Trying to make eye contact with him when he looked at me like that was like trying to stare into the sun.

“Looks like you all had fun,” Eileen laughed as we reached the bottom of the stairs.

“I was attacked,” I replied. “Terrorism from all sides; I didn’t stand a chance.”

“He’s a sore loser,” Sam interjected.

“Yeah, yeah,” I grunted. I turned to Cas. “Your son made a portrait of you out there, by the way. Very lifelike.”

Cas raised his eyebrows at that, and Jack giggled. “It was a snow angel. Dean said it didn’t look grouchy enough though.”

Cas shook his head, smiling slightly. “Ah, why does that sound exactly like something he would say?”

I resisted the urge to squirm under his gaze. “Alright, are you all done roasting me? How’s the turkey?”

“It hasn’t flown away yet,” Eileen replied. “I think it might be dead.”

That set off a fresh flurry of laughter from everyone, and even Cas cracked a smile.

“Screw all of you,” I said. I took a step and groaned when I felt how wet my socks were. “I need to go change. You see what you do? You ruin my Christmas Eve socks. I’ve been saving these special.”

I walked past Cas, making quick pointed eye contact with him as I did so, and headed off down the hallway towards my room.

Shockingly enough, Sam hadn’t mentioned the incident a few days prior again. I’d explained to Cas the story I’d had to spin to protect our cover, and he’d understood.

“You know, you could’ve zapped me away with you,” I’d complained. “Would’ve been a hell of a lot less suspicious than finding me alone in your bedroom.”

His eyes had been remorseful, and he’d looked a touch embarrassed. “I panicked,” he’d replied honestly. His chin had then raised defiantly. “You also complain of constipation when I transport you anywhere.”

I chuckled to myself as I remembered that, entering my room. I stripped my jacket and flannel off; my t-shirt was only damp underneath, so I figured it was salvageable. I walked over to the dresser, grabbing a clean pair of socks and sweatpants, and sat down on the edge of my bed before toeing my boots off and removing the soaked socks I already wore. I raised my hips enough to peel the jeans off and shimmy them down my legs before replacing them with the soft cotton.

My bare toes were still half frozen when I stood and cracked my bedroom door, then sat back down to pull the clean ones on.

There was a ghost of a knock, and I glanced up and saw Castiel standing in the doorway. He was watching me intently.

“Get in here,” I said, trying to stop the goofy grin pulling at the corners of my mouth.

He complied, stepping inside and closing the door softly behind him. “Hello, Dean.” He walked towards me and leaned down, planting his lips in the top of my wet hair.

I smiled, closing my eyes for a moment to allow myself just a second of peace before pulling my clean socks on and looking up at him. I took his hand. “Hi.”

“It makes me happy to see you enjoying yourself,” he said. He moved my pillow and sat down on the mattress next to me.

“Yeah, well, I’m soaked,” I griped.

“I don’t know how you’ll ever survive,” he replied solemnly.

I glared at him for a moment and then settled on raising his hand to my lips for a brief second. “f*ck off,” I murmured against his skin.

Cas chuckled. “In response to your earlier question, by the way, the turkey is doing fine. It’s nearly done, actually. And Eileen has been slaving away over the pie.” He glanced down at the mess on his jacket and frowned. “I assisted her.”

I raised my hand for a second, intending to brush the flour from his chest, but thought better of it and let it drop back to my side. “Sure you were great, man.”

Cas grunted. “Thank you,” he replied noncommittally. I noticed that he was fidgeting slightly. His eyes were in his lap, and his jaw worked like he was going to say something else.

“Hey. Everything okay?” I asked.

Cas frowned. “Yes, I…I wanted to give you your Christmas present now, if that’s alright. It’s not something you should open in front of everyone else tomorrow.”

“What, you get me a sex toy?” I cracked, shifting slightly.

Cas didn’t smile, and I blinked. “Let’s see it,” I said, my tone softening. I smiled reassuringly at him. “Sure I’ll love it, whatever it is. You didn’t have to get me anything, you know.”

He didn’t reply to that, but instead reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a small carefully wrapped bundle. It seemed like he’d taken a white handkerchief (though hell if I knew where he’d gotten one of those around here) and swaddled whatever was inside tightly, tucking down the edges. He offered the package to me.

I accepted it, and my fingers closed around his briefly. I gave them a small squeeze before pulling away and looking down at the gift in my hand. It definitely was a handkerchief that concealed whatever was inside. “Where’d you get the hankie?” I asked.

“The mall.” He blinked. “Dean, the present is inside—”

I huffed out a laugh. “Thanks, Cas.” I unwrapped the small linen square, and a simple black chain with some sort of braided pendant tumbled into my hand. I raised it to get a better look. The thin pendant was a hollow container of sorts, and what I’d first thought was braiding was revealed to be minuscule intricate warding sigils. An almost luminescent white-blue light shone through the breaks in the stainless steel warding covering the container. My jaw dropped as I recognized the light in question.

I’d seen this particular white light many times in my life, though it had almost always been born of violence. A cut on his cheek, his throat, coursing through his veins or in his eyes and lighting him up moments before he would end a creature’s life. And now, warm in my hand, protected behind warding, a few drops of Castiel’s grace glowed brightly.

“I—Cas.” It was all I could manage. My mouth wouldn’t form words.

“If you don’t want it, I understand. I…wanted you to have a part of me, I…” He’d trailed off, chewing his lip uncharacteristically.

I wet my lips. “I—this is…this is too much, I can’t—”

I started as Castiel pulled the necklace out of my hand, his fist closing around it tightly as the white handkerchief fluttered to the floor. He turned his face away. “I’m sorry. I was worried it would be too intense, I’m not good at gauging what’s appropriate—”

My stomach twisted as I realized what he thought I meant.

“Castiel.”

He turned back to face me, his expression guarded but clear hurt in his eyes.

I kissed him hard. I felt the surprise in his mouth, and heard the threatening whine of my stereo for a moment as the lights flickered, and then the electricity calmed as the kiss melted into something deeper. Cas’s hesitation had ceased; he twisted on the mattress to better face me and as my hands went to his face, his went to my hips. “It’s too much because I made you a mixtape, you dork, not because I don’t want it,” I managed between kisses. With each press of lips, each damp shaky exhale into eachother’s mouth, I tried to convey just how much I adored this man into his very bones.

I felt his relieved grin against my mouth and I peppered kisses along his jawline, eyes closed tightly, nosing his cheek and earlobe blindly as he held tightly to my waist.

“You’re sure?” he asked breathlessly, turning my face back to his and kissing me again. Gently this time, as if my lips were porcelain.

I pulled back slightly, shivering as his teeth grazed my lower lip, and rested my forehead against his. “Of course I’m sure. How are you gonna not act like that’s not the most romantic goddamn thing on the planet? What the f*ck, Cas?”

He pulled away and pressed his lips to my temple. His expression was shy as he opened his fingers to display the necklace again, and I took it from him reverently. It nearly hummed in my palm, though maybe I was imagining that. The warmth was unmistakable, however.

I hadn’t worn jewelry of any kind in a decade—not since the amulet Sam had given me when we were kids. I’d briefly worn bracelets in my early 20’s before Dad had told me they made me look like a puss*. So while I was far from an expert on all things accessory, the grace filled pendant and black stainless steel chain had to be the most beautiful thing I’d ever lain eyes on.

“I don’t deserve this,” I said quietly, shaking my head in shock.

“I’d argue that you deserve it more than anyone,” he replied smoothly.

“This won’t affect your powers?” I pressed.

Cas laughed a little. “If losing that little grace affected my powers, I’d be in more trouble than that vial could fix.”

I looked down at the necklace again. “Thanks, Cas,” I finally said gruffly.

He hesitated again. “You don’t…have to actually wear it. Not until you’re comfortable.”

I frowned. The chain was long enough that the pendant would be easily concealed under my shirt, though mishaps were always possible. Hunts were another story with how easily I was thrown around sometimes. I wanted nothing more than to be able to wear it proudly and not care who saw it.

I couldn’t meet his eyes. “Do you care if I keep it in my pocket for awhile?” I sighed.

Cas shook his head. “Keep it wherever feels safest to you, Dean.” His gentle smile was genuine, but I swore I could still see a small twinge of sadness in his eyes. The guilt twisted in my stomach as I reached for the hankie and carefully wrapped the chain and pendant back up. The sweatpants I’d changed into didn’t have pockets, so I sat it next to me on the mattress lamely.

He deserved so much better than I was giving him.

“Stop it,” he said.

I looked up in shock, half convinced he’d read my mind. “Stop what?”

“Stop beating yourself up. You’re so hard on yourself, and you needn’t be.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I grumbled.

Cas smiled at me. “You kissed me.”

I grinned sheepishly, cuffing the back of my neck. “Yeah, I did. That okay with you?”

He blinked. “More than okay. I wouldn’t object if you decided you wanted to do it again.”

My stomach flipped at his words. “Save some for under the mistletoe, Mariah Carey,” I joked, but I was unable to meet his eyes.

Thankfully, he changed the subject. “You also mentioned somewhere in there that you’d made me a mixtape,” he said. “Do I get to open that tonight?”

I could feel my ears heat. “You heard that, huh?”

“To some degree,” he said, straight faced, but there was a twinkle in his eye.

I hopped up off the mattress and walked over to my desk. I could feel his eyes on me as I reached into the top drawer and pulled out the wrapped box. Despite spending far too long trying to wrap it smoothly, it looked like something a fourth grader had done.

“Sorry for the…yeah,” I said, gesturing vaguely towards it as I brought it back over and handed it to him. “It’s not my grace, but…”

Cas put a finger to his lips, and I stopped talking.

He slid a thumb under the folded end on one side and peeled up the wrapping paper, and I watched as his graceful fingers disassembled the package without ripping any of it. He pulled the tape out, along with a once folded piece of paper that I’d written the track list on for him in my best handwriting.

His lips turned up in a smile as he unfolded the paper and his eyes scanned the titles. I knew they meant nothing to him, at least not until he’d have a chance to listen to them, but he seemed pretty jazzed regardless.

He didn’t know how much thought had gone into each song, particularly the final track. The anxiety that I’d experienced while I warred on myself with whether to include it.

“I can’t wait to listen to it,” he said, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Thank you so much, Dean. Getting a real glimpse into your head through these songs is an honor.”

I sat back down next to him and pulled at a loose thread on my sweatpants. “No problem, man.”

He put his hand over mine. “I’m serious.”

I felt the familiar uncomfortable sensation along my spine at the intimacy of the moment, and resisted the urge to pull away. I reminded myself that while my subconscious was conditioned into shrinking back from his touch, I did actually want it. I slowly, carefully, as to not push my limits too fast, leaned forward and pressed my lips to his.

He hummed slightly and ghosted a hand to my cheek, swiping his thumb over it gently. My brow furrowed as I leaned into his touch. We stayed like that for a moment. Soft sweet kisses planted against his full lips, his hand a grounding tether against my face.

When I did pull back, I smiled at the ground. “I feel like a kid with you all over again. Inexperienced, shy. I’ve never felt like this, man. I’ve never been kissed like that.”

“I’ve never kissed someone that I loved,” Cas replied calmly, and I think he realized what he said the same second I did, because I jerked back involuntarily right as he winced. “Dean, I’m sorry. That…that was too forward, I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t be saying that to you. Not until you’re more comfortable with this.”

My mouth was dry. “Don’t apologize. I…don’t apologize, damn it. Son of a bitch. I…” I could feel my heart beating hard at his words. At how badly I wanted to say them back. At how much it hurt that I couldn’t. Of course I knew he loved me. The final song on the mixtape I’d made him was entirely centered on that fact. Why did it freak me out so much to hear it out loud?

I frowned and leaned forward, hugging him to me hard. I prayed he was reading my emotions now, of all times. His hand rubbed gentle circles on the back of my still damp t-shirt and his chin rested in the divot of my shoulder as I closed my stinging eyes and willed him to understand.

When he pulled away, he pressed his lips to my temple for a moment. “Let’s go check on dinner, okay?”

****

Castiel’s POV:

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Dean groaned. He may have sounded annoyed, but the way his lips turned up gave away that he wasn’t truly upset. Sam had strolled around the corner holding a camcorder to his eye only moments before, and he grinned as the little red light blinked. “Christmas Eve 2022,” he narrated. “Dean’s a six pack deep and had at least that many slices of pie, I’d say.”

Dean raised his middle finger to him lazily, but he grinned.

He trained the camera on Eileen and Jack, who were sitting across from each other working on a puzzle. Jack beamed and waved to the camera before crinkling his brow in concentration and returning to the puzzle; Eileen stuck her tongue out at him.

“Merry Christmas,” she smiled. She sat back in her chair, legs folded up under her.

At last, he turned the camcorder towards me, where I stood near the doorway with my one beer in my hand. I raised it to him and smiled.

“Sing us a Christmas carol, Dean,” Jack begged, pushing his lower lip out. He’d heard Dean’s semi-drunken conversation with Eileen an hour before about how he was entrusting her with his deepest secret, (at which I’d looked up, startled, and ready to steer the conversation a different way for his sake), which turned out only to be that he loved singing and thought he was quote “pretty f*ckin’ good at it, too.”

“Don’t pout, a bird’ll crap on that lip,” Dean scolded half heartedly.

Jack started at his remark and quickly stopped pouting. “Fine. But you should still sing to us.”

“Nope. Huh uh. No singing,” he replied, and Eileen threw the lid of the puzzle box at him.

“Don’t make the kid, beg, asshole.”

“Fine, fine, twist my leg why don’t you,” he said with the air of someone who absolutely was not having his leg twisted.

Dean leaned forward in his chair, mischief gleaming in his eyes as he took a swig from his bottle. “Watch this,” he said. “Have a holly jolly Christmas,” he began singing, and Jack clapped in delight. “It’s the best time of the year. I don’t know if there’ll be snow, but have an ice cold beer.”

“There it is!” Sam crowed, training the camcorder on him.

“Have a holly jolly Christmas, and when you walk down the street…”

“Say hello to friends you know, and everyone you meet!” Jack sang along, rubbing his hands together happily.

Sam balanced the camcorder on the table’s edge and began signing along to the song to Eileen with a look of grave concentration on his face.

Dean glanced my way, grinning, and I grinned back unabashedly. “Hey, ho, the mistletoe, hung where you can see. Somebody’s waiting there, kiss ’em once for me!” He bounced in his chair; he was definitely tipsy, but seeing him smile like this was so rare. “Have a holly jolly Christmas, and in case you didn’t hear…oh by golly have a holly jolly Christmas this year!”

Everyone began clapping for him, and he squirmed. “Yeah, alright, that’s enough,” he said, brushing off the applause with a roll of his eyes.

Sam smirked as he turned off the camcorder and sat it back on the table. “You know, you aren’t half bad,” he told his brother.

Dean pulled a face and finished the beer in his hand. “Right.”

“He’s right, Dean, you have a really nice voice,” Jack smiled. “I can see the happy that comes out of you when you sing.”

“Don’t take my word for it, but I agree with them,” Eileen added, and Dean winked at her.

“Any chance of an encore?” I spoke up from my spot near the door.

Dean’s expression shifted into something like true embarrassment, and he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “That one might take a few more beers,” he said with a half smile.

“No fun,” Sam said.

“I don’t see you warming up your pipes, Sammy,” Dean replied, raising his eyebrows.

“There’s a reason Jack asked you to carol and not me.”

As Dean laughed, head thrown back the way he only did when he was truly happy, I thought about earlier that evening, in his bedroom. How I had been so terrified to give him the grace, and the way his kiss had been full of reassurance and gratitude in a way I knew he couldn’t voice. I warmed at the memory, but I still felt remorse for telling him that I loved him. He knew I did, but those words held a weight to him that he was not yet prepared to face.

The mixtape in my pocket was a reminder that he felt the same. Dean’s love of music was one of the first things about his humanity that had intrigued me. Whether he was humming absently while he looked up cases, drumming on his legs during intense scores during films, or playing the same box of cassettes over and over while he drove, music was a near constant in his life. For him to curate a mix of songs for me meant that he had sat down, poured over a list of his favorites, and picked each one because it reminded him of me in some way. He’d done it once before, several years back; he’d passed it off as a casual gesture, and I hadn’t understood at the time what it had meant for him to do that until I’d attempted to return it. He’d refused to accept it, despite the fact that he was furious at me at the time. He’d told me it was a gift and to keep it. That was the first gift I’d ever received, and to this day it sat on top of the mostly empty dresser in my bedroom.

I badly wanted to listen to this tape, labeled only “For Cas”. Unfortunately, it would have to wait until everyone had gone to bed for the night.

“I love you guys,” Jack said, pulling me out of my thoughts. He was smiling happily at us.

“We love you too, Jack,” Sam said, face soft. He came over to where Jack was seated and pulled his head into his side in a facsimile of a hug. Eileen was nodding in agreement from where she sat across the table from him and squeezed one of his hands in her own.

“I love you too, Jack,” I told him. I meant it. Jack had become the son to me I never thought I could have. The four years since he’d been alive had brightened the bunker in ways I couldn’t imagine not having. As he sat in his chair now, beaming at his family, I wondered how we could have ever feared he’d be anything like his birth father.

Dean cleared his throat. “I, uh. Love you too, kid.” He offered him a smile and raised his empty bottle to him.

I started a bit at that. I knew Dean loved Jack, that much was clear in his actions. To my knowledge, however, that was the first time he’d said it out loud. I locked eyes with him and smiled, attempting to convey how much that probably meant to Jack.

He flushed slightly and looked away, clearing his throat.

“Anybody have room for more dessert?” Sam asked, giving Jack’s hair one last ruffle before stepping away from him. “There’s still pie left.”

“Oh, I shouldn’t,” Dean groaned, leaning back in his chair and holding his somewhat distended belly dramatically.

“You’re right, you shouldn’t,” Sam laughed. “I was asking the others, I don’t want you puking everywhere.”

Dean looked affronted. “Samuel. Your lovely girlfriend slaved over those pies for hours. It would be sinful to let them go to waste.”

“It’s Sam,” he corrected with a roll of his eyes. It was his only rebuttal.

“I’ll take another slice,” Jack piped up.

“Lee?” Sam asked, turning to smile at Eileen.

She shook her head.

He looked to me. “Cas?”

“Oh come on,” Dean complained loudly, and Sam grinned. “Whatever happened to respecting your elders?” he called after him as Sam retreated towards the kitchen.

I straightened. “He’s correct that your stomach is probably at capacity.” He scowled at me, but I continued with a sigh. “Would you like whipped cream?”

****

After eating his pie, Dean had half staggered into the cinema room and directed us to follow him. He turned on A Christmas Story, and I smiled slightly as I recalled his connection to the film.

Jack had somehow procured a stick of mistletoe (I deeply suspected Eileen) and spent several minutes dancing around holding it above everyone’s heads teasingly while Dean cursed at the Roku refusing to boot up. That is, he held it above everyone’s heads but Dean’s and my own.

Eventually, Dean did manage to get the movie going. Between the food and the alcohol, he barely made it through the first half hour of it before he was nodding off on to my shoulder. I’d internally panicked—not for myself, as I’d be more than content to let him stay there, but for the embarrassment and anxiety he’d experience if he woke up like that in front of his family. Thankfully, less than a minute later he snored, and the sound roused him enough to sleepily readjust his head the other direction without ever opening his eyes. He didn’t budge the rest of the movie.

When the credits rolled, everyone gave whispered goodnights as not to disturb Dean, and Sam surprised me by pulling me into a quick tight hug. I blinked, and before I had time to wrap my arms back around him, he’d pulled away. “Night Cas,” he said, smiling down at his sleeping brother and then back at me.

My instincts told me that there was something more in his behavior, but I tried not to think too closely on it. “Goodnight, Sam,” I replied. He and Eileen roused Jack, who was also asleep, and he rubbed his eyes and squinted.

“Hit the hay, kiddo,” Sam said quietly. “See you bright and early, okay?”

“Mmhmm,” Jack mumbled incoherently. He stood and followed the two of them down the hallway in a daze.

Dean was sound asleep on the worn couch, his head lolled somewhat to the side. I knew it wouldn’t be good for his body to let him spend the night there, but I also knew he could be an angry sleeper if I attempted to wake him up. I warred with myself for a moment on it before pulling the blanket from the recliner that Jack had been using and taking it over to him. I spread it over him as gently as I could, holding my breath.

“Merry Christmas, Dean,” I whispered, resisting the urge to kiss his forehead. I knew he slept lightly. I turned to leave, powering off the tv.

“Where you goin’?”

His voice was slurred with sleep and alcohol, and as I faced him he frowned and blinked blearily at me.

“It’s 2 am, sweetheart.” The name fell from my lips carelessly, and I froze for a moment as I anticipated his reaction. I had to get a handle on my emotions. Moving too quickly for Dean would only send him retreating from me.

He startled a bit at the nickname, but thankfully didn’t seem bothered. “So? Don’t I get a kiss under the mistletoe?” He leaned down and retrieved the branch from where Jack had abandoned it and sleepily dangled it between us.

I looked quickly towards the door, more for his sake than my own. “Dean, you’re drunk,” I chuckled quietly, shaking my head.

“Sober enough to know when I want a kiss,” he insisted, scowling.

I felt the quickly becoming familiar hum of electricity in my veins and focused on not letting it manifest as I closed the gap between us. I leaned down and kissed his forehead.

He grunted in annoyance and reached for my chin with the hand not holding the mistletoe, hauling it down to his level.

I smiled in surrender against his lips. The kiss was sweet, and soft, even though he tasted of cheap beer. Beneath that was all Dean, and I resisted the urge to sigh into his mouth as he hungrily slid his tongue across my bottom lip in an attempt to deepen the kiss.

“Unfortunately, I have morals,” I said as I pulled away. “And as much as I’d like to kiss you senseless, I want to do it while you’re of sound mind.”

Dean groaned and sat up, tossing the mistletoe aside, but smiled at me. “Sap.” He stood up, a bit wobbly at the knees, and stretched. “Walk me to bed?”

“Absolutely,” I replied.

I knew once we left the room that physical contact would have to cease, so I leaned in and kissed him once, quickly, for good measure.

He blinked before a slow smile spread across his face. “What, Cas, you sweet on me or somethin’?”

“Something like that,” I murmured, chucking him under the chin.

As we made our way back down the hall towards his bedroom, our arms brushed in companionable silence. I watched him from the corner of my eye, wanting nothing more than to guide the sleepy drunk man by the small of his back, by his hand, by his waist. To touch him. We stopped in front of his door and he turned to me, giving me a soft smile.

“Night, Cas,” he said quietly.

“Goodnight,” I replied. I clenched my fist at my side as the urge to reach out and take his hand surfaced.

He paused for a moment, finger to his lips, and I froze as I tried to deduce where the danger was. What I didn’t expect, however, was after listening for a second, he quickly leaned forward and kissed my cheek before pulling away and opening his bedroom door. “See you in the morning,” he grinned. The door closed.

Dean’s POV:

My eyes couldn’t have been closed for more than five minutes before I was shaken awake roughly, a hand tight on my bicep, and I’d yelped and reached for my gun before my vision had even begun working properly.

When I realized I was pointing it at Jack—who jerked his head, the motion easily pulling it from my grasp and letting it thump to the carpet— I collapsed back against my pillow again as my heart tried to slow down.

“Son of a bitch,” I gasped, scrubbing a hand over my face. “Don’t do that, kid.”

Jack didn’t look the least bit bothered. “It’s Christmas, Dean, wake up!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m awake, I’m up,” I groaned, giving him a groggy thumbs up. The clock on my nightstand read 7:03.

Jack continued to stand there pointedly, arms crossed, and I blinked. “What?”

“Sit up so I know you won’t go back to bed,” he frowned.

He knew me well.

I made a noise of discomfort as I hauled myself into a sitting position, taking care to keep the blankets pooled up over my lap so the kid wouldn’t see my boxers, and wiped my eyes sleepily. “Alright. I promise I’m up. Scout’s honor. You wake up Sammy and Eileen like this?”

“Everyone else is already up and in the war room,” he grinned. “Sam made orange cinnamon rolls again this year. He told me I had to wait on you to open presents.”

My stomach rumbled slightly at the thought of the cinnamon rolls. “Go on back out. I’ll get dressed and meet you out there. No peeking at anything until I do, you understand?”

Jack’s grin widened and he rocked on his heels. “Hurry.” He left quickly, pulling the door closed behind him.

I yawned and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. Somewhat embarrassed, I thought about the pack of socks wrapped under the tree for Cas, but I hoped I’d made up for it with the mixtape. Lord knows he’d given me an unbeatable gift. I reached over and opened my nightstand, pulling out the handkerchief that held it, and looked down at the warm glowing vial in my hand. I wished I could wear it as proudly as I wanted to. Sighing, I folded it back up and placed it back in the drawer before quickly dressing.

By the time I’d made it into the war room, everyone had chairs pulled out and Jack sat eagerly at the base of the tree. Cas smiled at me, holding up my mug, and I accepted it gratefully. I took a long scalding drink before waving at everyone. “Merry Christmas,” I said, my voice still rough with sleep.

“Finally,” Jack said, a bit too dramatically.

I rolled my eyes at him and pulled up a chair between Sam and Cas, sparing the latter a small smile.

“Somebody teach this kid the reason for the season,” I said, deadpan.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “He isthe reason for the season, remember?”

Jack grimaced at that as he reached for a present.

****

Christmas Day turned out to be a winner. Our gift exchange was light hearted and full of laughter and teasing remarks, and my heart was warm. Jack wore a sticky green bow on his forehead, placed there by me. I made out with some expensive ass cologne I would’ve never bought for myself from Sam, and I’d frowned accusingly at him. “How much was this?” I’d demanded as I turned the box over in my hands. He’d irritatingly peeled the price sticker off. He’d grinned at me.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Jack gifted me a mini detailing kit for the Impala, and Cas’s present was a copy of Slaughterhouse Five and a big bag of beef jerky. It was touching that he remembered I was a Vonnegut fan, because my own brother had been shocked I read. I thought back to that trip to the mall and my stomach had twisted in guilt knowing that even when he’d thought I’d hated him and wanted him to leave the bunker, he’d picked out such a thoughtful gift. It made me want to sink through the floor when he opened his socks, even though he’d laughed good-naturedly.

After everyone had exchanged gifts, we gave Bobby and Jody each a call wishing them a Merry Christmas and piled into the Dean Cave to spend the day watching movies and spending time together. Sam had spent a few hours doing our due diligence and looking through news stories for cases before he finally closed the laptop and relaxed.

Around lunchtime Sam called in Chinese takeout for all of us, and Cas volunteered to take Jack and go pick it up. Awhile after they left, Sam went to get us each a beer and bring them back to the cinema room.

He smiled as he handed mine to me. “I’m really glad you and Cas are getting along again. I don’t like seeing the two of you argue. I just wanted to thank you for making sure it was a good Christmas.”

I grunted. “Yeah, of course, Sammy. I’m glad it’s a good one.” I twisted the top off of my beer and raised it to him, which he returned with a smile.

He sat down on the loveseat and threw an arm around Eileen, and she moved in closer to him happily. My stomach twinged at how normal and healthy their relationship was, all things considered. They never had to think twice about being seen together or showing affection. Sam wouldn’t feel nausea and guilt any time he thought about her for too long. Meanwhile, I was hyper aware of even holding eye contact with Cas for too long in front of my family. The thought of ever being able to have what they had with Cas seemed so far fetched in the moment that it made me sick.

Because Sam is normal. You’re a freak.

I sighed and tried to ignore my father’s voice as I dropped into the recliner next to them. I only noticed my nails were deep in my palm when I caught Eileen watching me silently in concern.

I smiled at her and slowly folded my hands. Having these issues were one thing. Letting on to my brother and his girlfriend that I had them was out of the question.

Thankfully, at that moment, Jack came bounding in steps in front of Castiel and saved me from any further inquisition.

“I come bearing egg rolls!”

****

“Thank You For Loving Me. Bon Jovi.”

I looked up with a start, and Cas was standing in my doorway. His eyes were impossibly soft, and suspiciously shiny, as he looked back at me.

My breath caught. He’d listened to the tape. “Yeah,” I said, chewing the inside of my cheek. “It, uh. It’s a good song.” He continued to watch me, and I sat back in my chair and closed my laptop. “Not my usual speed, but, ah. You know. You like it alright?”

“May I come in?” He ignored my question, and I felt myself shift under the intensity of those large solemn eyes.

I nodded silently.

Cas stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He’d crossed the room before I could blink. He took my face in his hands and leaned down, pressing his lips to mine. “I loved it,” he murmured. “Thank you, Dean.” As he started to pull away, I felt myself clinging to him for a moment. Wanting the kiss to last longer. Wanting my kiss to speak everything my voice couldn’t. There was a reason I’d picked that song.

Cas took the hint and came back in, and there was a clumsy bumping of noses and lips on chins and cheeks as I stood up from my chair. Once he’d straightened, he held me to him and didn’t fight me as I deepened the kiss.

The only sound in the room was our increasingly heavy breathing and the faint whine from my stereo as I backed Castiel against the wall. He hit a tad harder than I’d intended, but didn’t complain as his fingers wrapped in my hair. This kiss was quickly becoming unlike any we’d shared up to this point, and I couldn’t slow it down.

His scruff rubbed roughly against the corners of my mouth as our tongues tangled, and I groaned slightly into his when one of his arms went to my back and hauled me against him tighter so that our bodies were flush.

Before I could think about what I was doing, my lips were on his jaw, moving my way down the column of his throat to the soft divot in his neck. As I worked my mouth and tongue there, holding the back of his head with a free hand and bracing myself to the wall with the other, the soft noise that came out of Cas was absolutely sinful. The hum of electricity always present between us shot straight to my dick, and I forced myself to pull away, breathing heavily.

“sh*t. sh*t, sorry,” I managed, trying to catch my breath.

Cas’s lips were kiss swollen and wet, and his hair was mussed. He was breathing heavily as well, and I couldn’t look at him. Not if I wanted to cool down.

He didn’t speak, but I could feel him watching me as his breathing slowly slowed. I fiddled with the charging cord of my laptop and cast a quick glance down at my jeans, making sure my current state of mind wasn’t evident in my pants.

“Jesus Christ, man,” I finally sighed, chuckling a little. I scrubbed a hand down my face. “That was. Yeah.” I finally met his eyes, watched as he took a deep steadying breath.

“I apologize for getting carried away.” He looked worried.

I huffed out a laugh. “You? I damn near attacked you.”

Cas half smiled at that, finally raising the back of his hand to dry his lips. “All things considered, that was one of the more pleasant attacks I’ve experienced.”

I felt the heat in my cheeks at that. “Here, uh. Let me see your neck. Make sure I didn’t leave a hickey or anything.”

Cas tilted his head obediently as I pressed my fingers to his skin, inspecting him. “I don’t bruise easily, Dean,” he reminded me.

“Can’t be too safe,” I said, sighing in relief. Even the slight wet redness where I had planted my mouth was already fading. Part of me, selfishly, wished I had left a mark on him the way I permanently bore one from him. It was a stupid thought, and would only get us caught, so I pushed it back immediately. But still, the thought of seeing Cas marked as mine…

I cleared my throat and combed my fingers through his hair in an attempt to lay it flat. I straightened his tie for good measure, brushing my hands against the lapels of his coat.

“Am I presentable now?” he asked.

“As handsome as ever,” I said.

The f*cker winked at me.

My brain must have short circuited a little in that moment, because I swear I forgot the English language. I blinked at him stupidly, a traitorous blush flaming in my cheeks, and grunted attractively before frowning and looking away.

“You abbreviated the title,” Cas said into the silence, pulling the slightly crumpled track list from inside his coat pocket. “To Thank You.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “Well…yeah. Didn’t want you getting all misty eyed before you ever listened to it.” I bumped his shoulder and cleared my throat.

He didn’t react to my jab. Instead, he reached out slowly and took my face in his hand. As he rubbed his thumb over the swell of my cheek, he let out a breath that dizzied me. He reached down and took my hand in his free one, and he looked down at the indentions in my palm from earlier with solemn eyes as he did so. “You never have to thank me.”

****

The rest of the evening tapered off into lazy domesticity in the bunker. Sam and Eileen spent the majority of the night snuggled into the couch together, and Jack insisted on going outside with Cas to hide and watch the birds eat the remnants of his vegetables and rice that he’d thrown into the snow.

Honestly, I couldn’t have asked for a better day. I felt like Cas and I had made strides, and I was proud of myself for that. Even not being able to say certain things out loud, he’d gotten the message that I wanted so desperately to convey to him.

If we’re being honest, after our heated kiss in my bedroom, I felt like it was written all over my face. Cas was so cool and collected with each glance and smile he sent my way, and all I could focus on was the rough divot of skin poking out just above his collar and how I wanted to plant my lips there again.

“Dean,” Sam said emphatically, and I looked up. I realized I’d been washing the same dish at the kitchen sink for probably far too long.

“Hm?” I grunted, blinking and clearing my throat as I put the dish in the other side of the sink in embarrassment.

“You good, man? You looked spaced out, there.” He placed his glass on the counter near my small pile of dishes and leveled a look at me.

“Yeah, guess I was,” I admitted, shrugging. I avoided his gaze as I squirted a fresh glob of dish soap on the sponge in my hand.

“Care to share?”

Not likely.I did meet his eyes, then. “Just thinking about how quiet it’s been lately,” I smirked. Teach him to meddle.

Sam groaned and shoved me halfheartedly. “Why did you have to use the q word?” he sighed, glaring. “Tomorrow we’ll wake up and won’t get a break for a month. And it’ll be your fault.”

“Hey, you were the one scanning the classifieds this morning,” I replied. “Anyway, you asked.”

“I’ll never ask again,” he shot, making a face. He turned to leave the kitchen, then hesitated a moment as I heard his footsteps stop. “Merry Christmas. Jerk.”

“Merry Christmas, bitch,” I smiled. I flicked my wet fingers over my shoulder in his general direction, and I heard him sputter and groan before his complaints retreated back down the hallway.

****

Cas caught me as I was grabbing a beer before bed. Wordlessly, he took the beer from my hand and placed it on the counter, taking my hand in his own instead. “They’re in bed,” he greeted me as I nervously flinched back.

“Hi,” I said, relaxing with a laugh. I looked down as Cas’s warm fingers twined with my own, covering the still fading nail marks in my palm, and he raised his eyes to my face.

“Hi,” he replied. The word sounded silly coming from him.

I noticed he looked a bit frazzled, and I was opening my mouth to ask him what was up when he spoke again.

“I’ve…very much enjoyed the last few days with you,” he finally said. Behind the gravel of his voice, I detected a note of shyness in his tone.

My face softened. “I, uh. Yeah. I enjoyed them too, man. Here’s to more.” I went to pull out of his grip and reach for my bottle to raise a faux toast, but he resisted.

“I need to know if I was too much,” he said. The words came out in a rush.

“Too much?” I blinked.

A muscle in his jaw jumped. “I need to know I didn’t…move too quickly or do anything to make you uncomfortable.”

My smile faded. What had I done to make him think that? My mind quickly catalogued through our recent interactions and I landed on my behavior when he’d said he loved me.“No, Cas, not at all,” I said emphatically. I pulled him to me in a near crushing hug. Once again, I prayed I could convey how I felt into his bones. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to think that. My issues…that is all me, okay? Not you.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” he insisted, his voice in my ear. “You are so good, Dean. Always.” All the hairs on my neck stood on end, and not in a bad way. Something about his words and the timbre of his voice had my traitorous dick twitching in interest, and I willed it down desperately. Now was not the time. “I’m…embarrassed to even need the reassurance, honestly.” He pulled back and rubbed a hand down his face. He hadn’t seemed to notice.

I bumped him. “Hey. None of that, man. We’re all human.” I paused, cracking a grin. “Well, not really, but you get the sentiment.”

Cas smiled gently at me and put a hand on my cheek. I fought the urge to squirm. I needed to trust him that the rest of our family was in bed. This was Cas. He wouldn’t say that if it wasn’t true. “You mean the world to me,” he murmured.

Well, f*ck. Without warning, I felt the stinging threat of tears in my eyes. I didn’t know how to reply to him, so I just swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. When was the last time someone had said something like that to me? I genuinely couldn’t remember. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew how Cas felt at this point, against all odds. But hearing things like that out loud, directed at me, was something I couldn’t wrap my mind around. I cleared my throat hard and looked away, blinking.

“Merry Christmas, Cas,” I finally said gruffly.

“Merry Christmas, Dean,” he replied, pressing his lips to mine.

****

When my head hit my pillow, the breath I took was not steady. His words still echoed in my mind. I’d been so frazzled that I’d forgotten to grab my beer from the counter, and I thought about getting up and grabbing it for a minute before changing my mind and burrowing deeper under the covers. The warmth in my stomach at being told I meant the world to Castiel was embarrassing, but it had caught me off guard. Cas’s ability to shamelessly speak deep meaningful truths was something I envied now more than ever. He’d told me I was good. Which shouldn’t have meant so much to me, but it did.

I realized there was a small smile on my lips and it widened when I caught how dorky I was being. I sighed and moved to roll on to my side, but an insistent throb in my sweats had me catching my breath.

I’d been hoping I could will my erection down when Cas’s rumble in my ear had woken it up, but I realized now that it had never fully settled. To be honest, it probably had never fully settled since our necking session earlier in the day. I’d not masturbat*d in ages because I’d found that all I could think about when I did so was Castiel, which often sent me spiraling into self hatred. Jerking off to another man.Usually, the thought had my stomach rolling, but tonight, a near hysterical laugh bubbled to my lips. I had his grace in my nightstand and his handprint on my shoulder, and hours earlier, his tongue in my mouth. The denying my sexuality ship had sailed, whether I liked it or not. He was my…—I still couldn’t think the word boyfriend—partner for Christ sakes. I knew realistically I was only so sure of myself in this moment because I was becoming increasingly horny. I could’ve rationalized damn near anything to myself if it meant I’d get off. Right?

I sat up somewhat against my pillows and lifted my hips, sliding my sweats and briefs off in one motion. I tossed them unceremoniously over the edge of the mattress. I leaned over and opened the nightstand on a whim, and pulled out the carefully wrapped handkerchief containing the necklace. I opened it and slid the pendant over my head almost reverently and slid it under the collar of my shirt.

The second the little vial landed against my skin, I couldn’t help the gasp that came from my mouth. The warmth was more so than I’d felt in my hand, and that familiar thrum of power that surged between Cas and I whenever we were close skittered down my arms and legs and left tingles in its wake.

My co*ck plumped somewhat at the sensation, as if it knew where it had come from. Who it had come from.

I took a deep breath and settled back into my pillows. I let my legs fall open into a butterfly position, heels together, and swallowed as my quickly hardening co*ck fell heavy against my thigh. I took hold of it, thumbing over the head, and bit my lip as a shiver ran through me. The precum quickly beading at the tip served as an effective lube as I slid the pad of my thumb over that most sensitive spot, and I let my head fall back. It had been far too long since I’d touched myself. Since I’d learned that Cas returned my feelings for him, I’d been too terrified to; now, as I began working my way down the shaft, breath catching as I did, I half hoped he knew exactly what I was doing.

I thought about trying to find p*rn, and my free hand even twitched towards my phone, but I didn’t know if I was there yet. Not when the reason I was so achingly hard right now would entail looking up the gay stuff. Instead, I closed my eyes. I let myself imagine the way Cas’s tongue had felt sliding against my own, how he’d held me to him tightly and gasped into my mouth. My mind danced around the edges of riskier thoughts, as if testing the waters. I imagined the growl of his voice in my ear and the way he might whimper under my hands as I touched him. I allowed the softest of groans to escape as I visualized his warm wet mouth around my co*ck, and rolled my hips up into my hand rhythmically as I thought about pushing past those full lips and letting him take me into his throat. God, how that would feel…

Eyes closed, f*cking into my hand, I let myself think about the way I’d take hold of his soft hair at the crown of his head and guide him. In my mind’s eye he looked up at me over my pubic bone with those piercing blue eyes, lips stretched around my co*ck, swallowing around me to allow me deeper…

“f*ck, Cas,” I groaned, and before I could freeze at the way I’d said his name out loud, I was cumming. Despite the knot in my stomach behind the pleasure, I stroked myself through it determinedly. I wasn’t going to let myself ruin this org*sm because of my own hang ups. I just wasn’t. I continued to thrust into my hand sloppily as I came, my other hand fisting the sheets, head pressed hard into the pillow. I didn’t stop until I was trembling from the stimulation and my toes were curled. My head felt light and foggy as I let go of my softening co*ck and took a shaky breath through my nose.

“Son of a bitch,” I breathed. Once I felt like I could move my limbs, I grabbed a handful of tissues out of the box on my nightstand and wiped up the mess on my hand and stomach. I unfolded my legs stiffly and stood to throw them away and wash my hands at the sink.

I paused, waiting for the ghost of my father’s familiar mocking voice in my ear, but none came. The little spark of warmth in my stomach at that fact made me grin.

I reached up to feel for the pendant under my shirt and the warmth was palpable even through the fabric. I pulled the collar down in my mirror, and the soft glow partially illuminated my face in the dim room.

As I made my way back to bed, I decided to leave the necklace on, just for tonight.