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“I’m sorry,” the Lord said, “but your world needs a reset or it’ll implode.”
And every door had been blown open, every seal unbound. Hell’s giant gaping maw spat out death and despair. And Jack-
“I’m sorry,” Chuck repeated, his voice compassionate, the hand on Cas’ shoulder firm, but what did God’s benevolence matter? When the world had to be stitched back together, when Jack lay dead, burnt out, a sacrifice to the balance of the universe?
When Dean had forsaken him so completely?
A part of Cas wanted to beg Chuck, not for help, but for mercy. But Chuck shook his head even before the question had fully formed in Cas’ desperate mind.
“It will take much to unravel. Jack’s story has partially overwritten yours. If I had let it continue, you would have died. To save Dean, yes, the ultimate sacrifice for love, but that would have been the end of your story. Merely a stepping stone of Jack’s ascend and a closing parenthesis of Dean’s character arc. You’d be a fond memory for a couple of months, brought up for soulless pep talks, and then Dean’s story would conclude too because with Jack there was no other end but the promised paradise. Do you understand me, Cas? This is earth.”
“No, you’re wrong.” Cas wanted to shout but it came out as a choked gasp. Chuck smiled, softly, so far above Cas’ wretched pain.
“I’m God,” he said.
And that was it.
God left them with the broken pieces of a world that had healed wrong, ready to be mended right this time. He had warned that he would not be able to interfere until things had settled into a balance again. They were on their own with all of hell and parts of purgatory spilled out into the world and angel radio screeching in Cas’ ears as dead angels fell through the cracks in the Empty, back into being. The veil was vibrating with a swell of ghosts, too many for Billie’s reapers to manage.
It felt less like the world mending than ending for good.
Still, they survived, possibly because Chuck willed it, but they did not win; maybe the end had been averted yet again, but Mary was still dead, Jack was gone and Cas’ powers were fading. Dean’s fury had not abated and neither had Cas’ aches. Cas left with the echoes of Dean’s damnation in his ears, Sam’s profound silence, and the vision of Jack dead, unwritten by godly decree. No home, no son, no purpose, no family. The world felt empty and heavy for the first time in a long time.
Where could he even go from here?
The tape was ejected from the car radio with a soft mechanical noise. Cas blinked, not quite startled by the noise, but still he looked down at it in mild surprise. He pushed it back in – he did not want to see Dean’s familiar script - but switched off the radio. He hadn’t been listening anyway.
He put his elbow back on the window, rubbed his lips and looked out again. There must not be any school this afternoon; teenagers were lingering by the cornerstone, the sound of their laughter carrying to Cas’ open window. Before, Cas had come into Lebanon on occasion to make purchases for the Winchesters or Jack, but he rarely interacted with the inhabitants. He knew that the three teens had accidentally been faced with the supernatural, or so Dean had told him. They seemed unburdened by it, enjoying their lives without the world resting on their young shoulders. As he watched them gesture animatedly the pain in his core only seemed to get worse, so Cas averted his eyes, hoping that it would lessen the pain of Jack’s loss. Months had passed by now and the grief was still as sharp as it had been at the graveyard.
Cas looked at the clock on his dashboard, then studied the mostly empty parking lot where he was to meet Sam. Once upon a time, this town had been a vague extension of home, but now discomfort had taken up the place of familiarity. He would be glad to leave again.
Cas heard the familiar sound of the Impala’s rumble and watched Sam pull into the parking lot. Cas felt some of the tension ease out of him when he confirmed that Sam was on his own. But the relief was muddled by irrational sadness. Cas had not expected Dean to accompany Sam. They hadn’t talked in months, not since… well. Sam reached out from time to time, though he too felt distant in ways that Cas could not quite explain to himself. And he wasn’t sure if the distance came from Sam or if Cas simply felt so rent asunder from his family that he projected it into their conversations.
When Sam got out of the car and lifted his hand in greeting, Cas heaved a sigh and unbuckled his seatbelt. He reached over to the passenger side and grabbed the duffle bag before he got out of the car.
“Hey, Cas. How are you?” Sam asked, voice and smile friendly. He looked good, healthy, though weighed down slightly by something. Cas didn’t know what it was this time that troubled him.
“Fine,” Cas answered, clenching his hand on the strap of the duffle bag he had over his shoulder.
“Yeah? I suppose the weather’s pretty nice to be out on the road.” Cas squinted up at Sam in confusion and saw him scratch the back of his head somewhat uneasily. “Uh… I guess you found everything?” Cas nodded and handed Sam the duffle back.
“Yes, I have everything you asked for,” he said and Sam did look into the duffle bag. He pulled out one of the harder to come by items, giving the small jar of blackened bones a little shake. “Please don’t do that. They’re brittle.” Sam stopped at once, grimacing at Cas.
“Sorry,” he muttered sheepishly and put the jar back into the duffle bag. “Thanks… some of the things were pretty obscure, I really appreciate it.” Cas nodded. Sam looked at him indecisively for a moment, then he jerked out of his thoughts. “Right!” he exclaimed. Sam reached into his pocket and produced his wallet. He counted out a couple of bills, double checking them, then he held them out to Cas. Cas took the payment and put it into his pocket without counting it again.
“Thank you.”
“I think it’s good that you’re doing this, Cas. Helping hunters like this with ingredients and translations. Sure, Rowena can get us things or people like Sergei if we really have to… But…” Sam shrugged.
“Their demands for remuneration can be unreasonable,” Cas agreed. “I will send you the proper bill for your files.” Sam huffed a laugh at that, closing his eyes and shaking his head.
“Alright. Thanks,” he said then he shouldered the duffle bag. Cas thought that their interaction was complete now, but he could tell that Sam was lingering, something nervous about him. It wasn’t like Cas wanted to run, Sam used to be his friend, his family even… But at the same time being close to him seemed to give the sensation of loss inside him sharper contours. It just hurt…
“I have some other things you could have look at,” Sam finally offered. “Rowena is trying to create some new spells, but we’re unsure about some of the ingredients. Since Chuck’s reset all the spells in the Book of the Damned no longer work. Magic is different now, or so Rowena claims.”
“I can’t say for sure, the magic available to us angels is different… But I can look.” Sam nodded, his smile grateful.
“You know…” Sam started after a longer period of silence. He looked at the ground, scuffing it with his shoe, then he looked back up. “Don’t you want to come back…?” Of all the things that Cas had thought Sam could ask for, that hadn’t been it. Cas was surprised by the instant rush of panic that seized hold of him. He couldn’t speak at first, tongue tied up in a jumble of emotions. Somehow pain and anger were the first to come untangled.
“I wasn’t the one who severed our ties,” he finally said.
“Cas… He-“
“Mary’s death and the aftermath of Chuck’s reset has made it abundantly clear to me that Jack was the only thing that bound us together as a family, but even that was on your terms only.” Sam flinched at the accusation but even though he seemed pained, he didn’t avert his eyes, letting Cas speak. “Now that Jack is gone, I am alone.” Sam was silent for a moment and Cas wasn’t sure if he should regret having spoken out like this, but after a while Sam sighed.
“I don’t feel that way, Cas. I still think of you as my family and I do miss you,” Sam admitted. “And I understand that there are things that… went very wrong. But things were set up to go wrong from the start.”
“No,” Cas insisted stubbornly and he clenched his hands into fists. “No, Jack was good. It didn’t have to go wrong.”
“I know, Cas…” Sam said with a big sigh. Cas felt trapped, raw, with his carefully controlled grief and anger far too close to the surface.
“Maybe I should go, I have other assignments to-“
“Cas,” Sam stopped him and when Cas looked up at him, he found an odd expression on Sam’s face. Like that one time he had to confess to Dean that he had spilled a smoothie in the impala. When Sam had his attention, he did start to fidget a bit.
“You’re an omega, right?”
“What?” Cas asked, taken aback by the sudden change of topic. Or was it? Did Sam connect Castiel’s struggles with the loss of his place and son with something as trivial as designation? “You know that I’m an omega, what is the point of this question?”
“I’m just making sure. Chuck’s reset changed things…”
“I am still an angel inhabiting a human vessel,” Cas reminded him. Sam nodded at that and Cas watched with suspicion as Sam continued to fidget.
“It’s not easy, is it? Being on your own as an omega?” Cas’ irritation abated slightly at that. Despite the sheer oddness of this conversation, it seemed that Sam was just trying to be kind.
“It’s not harder than it was the last time,” Cas told him. “It would be harder had I possessed Claire. I possessed a male omega in his thirties that already bore a child. I am not as interesting.” Sam’s mouth pulled into a frown.
“That’s a very uncomfortable thought. You possessing Claire.”
“Not to me. Well… It didn’t use to be,” Cas corrected. “Everything is different now…” Sam nodded.
“You doing these Supernatural errands is one way to come to terms with this, is it?” he asked and Castiel looked up at him, his expression apparently answer enough. With his powers fading, and no more place he belonged to, he had to find something to do. He needed money of course now that he couldn’t suspend all human needs, but he most desperately needed a purpose.
“But… before that… you did something else. After the angels fell and you were human,” Sam said, his voice careful. That took Cas by surprise. That Sam knew about him collecting artefacts and ingredients was one thing, it was a service he provided to hunters after all, so he had told Sam about it early on. But that kind of work wasn’t something he could do all the time therefore it had been an easy decision to go back to what he used to do to when he wasn’t working at the gas-n-sip. Something always needed to be cleaned, after all, and his boss where he lived was a very kind woman. Clearly, Sam must have noticed Cas’ surprised expression and he did seem uncomfortable, way more uncomfortable than when he had to confess to spilling the smoothie.
“Dean mentioned it,” Sam explained.
Dean knew? How? He had been so dismissive of the work Cas did at the gas-n-sip and hadn’t really listened when Cas told him about cleaning, or so he had thought. Besides, neither of the brothers ever mentioned any appreciation for the fact that the Bunker was never dusty and none of their rather sloppy spell work left permanent stains. Had Dean known, all this time? He might as well have said thank you just once!
“I’m sorry, I suppose you didn’t want us to know,” Sam said and Cas quickly shook his head, banishing thoughts of breaking his resolve to send Dean an irritated text.
“That’s not it. There is no shame in it. And it’s easier now that I’m no longer human. Grace soothes some of the aches.” Oddly enough, that had Sam grimacing. Maybe he had never thought about how physically demanding cleaning in any professional capacity could be. But surely he could relate, considering how taxing hunting was.
“I know this is really asking a lot,” Sam started, “but is there any chance, any chance at all, that you would come to the Bunker? Help Dean?”
“Oh…” Cas said into the expectant silence following Sam’s request. “I… don’t think Dean wants to see me,” he said, because this was easier than deciding whether he wanted to see Dean. He did, maybe desperately, but he didn’t want to see him with just the same vehemence, fearful of the emotions that a confrontation would make boil over.
“I promise you he does,” Sam insisted. “You and Dean were… close.” Cas snorted.
“We had intercourse, yes, if that is what you mean.” Cas watched color spread in Sam’s face, which was almost uncharacteristic, since it took quite a lot to make Sam blush.
“That’s not the closeness I meant, but yes. It was hard to miss,” he said.
“We tried to be discreet, but I wouldn’t say we were particularly good at it,” Cas offered by way of apology though Sam only laughed at that. It broke up his uncomfortable expression for a while, but he was quick to sober up.
“Uhm… So what would it cost? I’ll pay of course.”
“That depends on how long it takes,” Cas told him. Sam winced yet again, clearly very uncomfortable.
“Maybe a couple of hours is all it needs? Dean’s stubborn, thinks he can manage on his own…” Sam suggested. “What about 500? Would that cover it?”
“That seems generous,” Cas said. He was surprised when Sam took out his wallet and pulled out the bills. He realized that Sam probably came to this meeting with the intention to ask.
“I didn’t expect to work today. I don’t have my usual supplies with me,” Cas warned him when he took the money. By now Sam looked so uncomfortable he seemed like a moment away from running.
“That’s fine, you know where things are in the Bunker, right?” Cas nodded. “Okay, great! If you’re alright with it, I’ll head out now. With these ingredients I should be able to work my case.”
“Of course. Then I’ll head to the Bunker,” Cas said, trying not to let show how uneasy he was. But this was a job. He didn’t have to talk to Dean apart from telling him that Sam paid him to clean and to please get out of the way.
Sam and Cas said their good-byes and got into their respective cars. The drive to the Bunker was almost too short and Cas felt his insides twist nervously. Still he got out of the car and approached the door. It opened to him and he crossed the warding without issue. So at least he wasn’t completely unwelcome now.
The familiar hum of magic and machinery did little to soothe Cas, even though a treacherous part of him seemed to fall into place. He couldn’t get comfortable here, not with Dean’s words still ringing in his ears or with Cas expecting to find Jack smiling up at him. Jack wouldn’t be here, neither would Dean’s usual welcoming smile.
Cas breathed in deeply, then he walked down the stairs. Books, bottles and coffee cups were strewn over the map table, there was a bit of dirt and dust all around. Cas’ lack of cleaning was showing up but not excessively. He walked into the library and looked around. Same situation here. There was cleaning to do, but Dean must have already gotten to the worst of it, as Sam had mentioned. The Bunker was huge however, so it would still be a couple of hours’ work to get it all pristine again.
He made his way through the Bunker, avoiding the personal quarters, too fearful of what emotions the empty rooms might dredge up, so instead he slowly approached the kitchen. In the past this had been a place that provided him comfort, but now… It was Dean’s space and he usually kept it clean himself. But there was a mess on the counter now, clearly someone had made a sandwich in a rush, without bothering to clean up. It also smelled weird. No, not weird. As Castiel stood in the space, taking in the sights and smells, it quickly dawned on him what exactly was happening.
This was Dean’s rut scent.
Cas felt frozen to the spot. Was this just incredibly bad luck or did Sam send him here to clean on purpose? No, surely Sam wouldn’t deceive him this way!
Whatever had happened, Cas knew he couldn’t be in the Bunker with Dean when he was in rut. He swiftly turned and retreated into the corridor, just to hear a door open and before Cas could react, Dean was hurrying towards him. Cas’ breath got stuck in his chest and he stopped his attempt to flee at once.
Dean looked rough, clothes sticking to him, his hair in disarray and clearly he had neither shaved nor showered. The cloud of rut scent that engulfed him felt almost suffocating. And yet so alluring to a horrible part of Cas that even Dean’s declaration that Cas was dead to him had not managed to kill.
“I smelled you,” Dean said breathlessly, coming to a stop a couple of steps away from Cas. This close the scent was even denser. “Sam texted me that he sent you to help me.” Dean shook his head. “Fuck, I’m shocked you’re here.”
“I suppose so am I,” Cas said, slowly, trying to find his words. Dean looked at him with wide eyes, hopeful in a way that almost drove Cas to tears.
“Sam also said that he paid you,” Dean continued, now more careful. Cas shook his head, unsure how to answer.
“That’s not why I’m here. Sam paid me to clean.” Dean was never able to guard his expressions well when in rut, so Cas didn’t miss the relief. “Dean, I am here to clean. I didn’t know you were in rut.” Dean’s expression instantly shuttered when he understood what Cas was getting at.
“Right. Then you should leave. This is not a good time to clean,” Dean spat.
“I agree,” Cas said, trying to keep his voice calm and even. That seemed to upset Dean even more. He turned around, his scent horribly off and a couple of seconds later the door to his room slammed shut, absurdly loud in the otherwise silent bunker. Cas lingered in the corridor for a moment longer, feeling loss reverberate through him, but then he walked back to the library, where the air wasn’t as heavy with Dean’s scent and he felt he could think again.
He dug his phone out of his pocket to text Sam, even though he knew that Sam would probably be driving and not answer anytime soon.
“Did you employ my services to participate in Dean’s rut? Even if I did do sex work – which I do not, I clean – why would you think this prudent?”
He didn’t think he was able to put into words how heartbroken he still was, or how much it hurt to be here, faced with Dean’s angry disappointment, so he sent Sam a string of emoticons to let him know just how Cas was feeling. He ended the text with a combination of symbols that expressed his pain tilting over into hot anger.
By the time he sent his strongly worded message off, he put the phone back into his pocket and marched to Dean’s room. The scent was thick here and almost blinding when Cas opened the door without knocking. Even if Dean had locked the door, Cas’ surge of emotions would probably have had him tear it off its hinges.
Dean had been lying in bed, but now he sat up with a yell of protest.
“You have no right!” Cas yelled, walking up to the bed to stare down at Dean, who was looking at him with wide eyes. “You have no right to be angry at me for having my doubts about rut sex with you, considering what happened the last time we spoke!” Dean opened his mouth but Cas was not interested in hearing it. “Why would you want to have sex with me anyway?! You expressed your lack of appreciation for me very clearly!”
“Seriously?!” Dean demanded and got up from the bed, obviously struggling. There was a noticeable tent in his pyjama pants but Cas did not care about his erectile torment. “You want to have this conversation, now?! When all of my blood is in my dick?”
“That is incorrect, your penis does not hold all your blood. You’d be dead if it did,” Cas told him sharply, no patience. Dean stared at him, mouth and eyes wide, but then he threw up his hands.
“Fine! If you want to do this now instead of picking up the phone one damn time in the last 6 months-“
“Maybe I would have picked up the phone if you had called,” Cas interjected. “But you did not! You stopped caring about me the moment we lost Mary and you haven’t stopped being cruel since!”
“I was angry, alright?!”
“And I wasn’t?” Cas shot back. “I was grieving too! I had lost Mary – who was my friend – and I had to learn how little I meant to those I considered family, since you discarded me just like that.”
“It wasn’t just like that!”
“It was like that,” Cas insisted. “I didn’t kill Mary. But you decided that Jack had to die and when he did die you didn’t care about how I hurt! And you kept punishing me, for every thing that went wrong. You kept being cruel to someone who…” Cas had to bite his lips, because suddenly he felt choked up. He looked at Dean, finding him tense, clearly holding back anguish of his own. “I thought I was loved,” Cas finally said. “I lost my family and yet I never lashed out at you like that. Taking what little dignity and strength that I had left and leaving was the only option I had. And now I’m here and you’re angry that I didn’t come running to help you through your rut. Like… like the service I can do for you and Sam is all I’m good for and if I fail at doing my job yet again, you get angry.” Cas breathed in deeply, the fire of his anger had been swift and strong but now Cas felt brittle. “Even though my impulse is to help you, I just… maybe I should have more self-respect than that.” He reached into his pocket and took out the money Sam had given him. He put it on the dresser next to him.
Dean had been silent through the last minutes, now he looked at the money, his expression thoughtful.
“Yeah, okay” he said, eyes still turned away from Cas. “That’s fair. You’ll still want to be able to look at your reflection in the morning. I know I can’t.” Dean finally turned to look at Cas. His expression was clearer now, the anger of before wiped off his face. “I’m sorry, for breaking it – us,” he admitted. “And you’re right… You are family. I was wrong and couldn’t admit it. And… I miss him too.” Dean looked down for a beat but then he met Cas’ eyes again. “The kid.”
Cas felt his words like the sharp cut of an angel blade. This was the first time anyone had acknowledged that Jack had existed and had been loved in all this time. And the pain felt so vast, so huge, that Cas feared he would burst beyond his vessel.
He nodded, feeling the tears in his eyes well up. It was an apology, one that Cas had somehow longed for, and it hurt more than it healed.
Dean must have noticed.
“Cas, don’t cry, dude,” he said, his voice almost a whine. Cas shook his head and wordlessly left. He didn’t breathe for fear of falling apart until he left the bunker behind and could close the door to his car.
The air shuddered on its way out of him. He took a deep breath, trying to keep it in, but it burned, in his heart, up his throat, into his eyes. He sunk back into the worn leather of his seat and let the tears fall.
He didn’t turn when the car door opened and Dean climbed into the passenger seat. After a minute or two, Cas looked at him, seeing how rough he looked, with tear tracks down his face too.
“I won’t get your scent out of the car,” Cas protested between heaving sobs.
“Okay,” Dean answered, “good.” Cas squeezed his eyes shut. “I know I fucked it up. The least I can do is keep you company while you cry.”
“What if I don’t want company?” Cas demanded and even through his tears he could see Dean’s stunned look. But before Dean could react, Cas amended: “I do want company.”
“Thanks,” Dean whispered.
“Illogically, I still love you. That’s probably why it hurts more.”
“I love you too, Cas,” Dean said. “And I’m sorry that my anger was stronger. It wasn’t fair. I shouldn’t have taken my hurt and anger out on you. I know that it was an accident and that I shouldn’t have blamed you or Jack.” Dean looked down at his hands, rubbing his palms in slow circles, the words not flowing as freely as his tears. “I just… I don’t know… I miss him and I miss you and I miss mom. Nothing’s right anymore.” Cas shook his head, trying to cease his crying.
“Thank you, for saying that… I’m not sure what to feel,” Cas admitted, wiping the back of his hand over his eyes. Dean took a moment to do the same.
“I don’t know either,” Dean answered. “And even though I want an easy way out, rut sex isn’t going to fix it.”
“No,” Cas agreed. He looked at Dean. “Why did Sam ask me for help anyway?”
“It’s a rough one. With you gone I’m not doing all that well… Physically.” Dean cleared his throat and looked at his hands. “And emotionally,” he muttered.
“I’m sorry to hear that. But this is unfair,” Cas argued. “It’s hard to stick to my resolution not to help you if you are in distress.” Dean laughed at that, his chuckle sounding hoarse.
“It’s not going to kill me. And it’s not your responsibility to help me,” Dean said and still Cas’ decision seemed to waver, especially when Dean groaned and rested his head against the cool window. “But you should go now, so I can deal with it.” He reached into his pyjama pocket and put a handful of dollar bills on the console. “And you should take this.” Dean opened the door and slipped out of the car. The surge of fresh air flowing into the car almost made Cas gasp. But it also cleared up his mind a bit. He nodded at Dean, then put his seatbelt on.
“I’ll text you,” Dean promised, then, after looking at Cas for a long while, he closed the door and stepped away from the car. Cas hesitated as well, but then he started the car and reversed out of the access road. Dean lifted his hand in a wave. Cas had to focus on the street and when he looked back up into his rearview mirror, Dean was invisible around the bend of the road.
Cas was still crying, though no longer as violently as before. His mind seemed to clear a bit as he drove back into Lebanon, but instead of steering towards the main road that would take him home, he drove to the next motel.
Maybe he was an idiot, but he worried. And he also shouldn’t be driving when half blinded by tears.
He used Sam’s money to pay for the motel room and then went to lie down, tired and drained.
He must have fallen asleep because the ringing of his phone startled him out of unconsciousness. He squinted into the dark and spotted his phone vibrating on the bed side table. The blinds were closed but a bit of artificial light came through the crack between the blinds, hinting that it was dark outside.
“Hello?” Cas asked, not checking the caller ID.
“Cas? I got your texts!” It was Sam, sounding harried.
“What…?” Cas sat up properly and rubbed his eyes. “Are you alright? Are you done with the hunt?”
“Not quite. Wrapping up now,” Sam answered. “Are you alright?” Cas frowned at the carpet and then lifted his head, listening to Sam. “I talked to Dean earlier and I really do owe you an apology. I misinterpreted comments Dean made about you selling yourself. Turns out he was just being a dick about you working at a gas-n-sip.”
“Yeah, he was pretty unreasonable about it. Did you really think I sold sex?” Cas wanted to know.
“Uh… I mean… I did find it hard to believe but I didn’t want to judge. Many omegas do, especially in difficult situations,” Sam said, sounding sheepish. “I guess the fact that my brain went there means I’m a dick too. I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“I accept your apology,” Cas said, his voice almost a whisper.
“Thank you… You know… there is a lot we haven’t talked about, we’ve all been in our own head, avoiding to process what has happened, you know” Sam said and Cas heard him sniff. “Maybe… once I’m back home we could start that…? To talk? I did a bit with Dean and it was…” Soft laughter came out through the speaker. “Honestly, it was like sticking Dean’s entire knife drawer into myself, but after the hurt there was still some relief, you know? To just have acknowledged the hurt?”
“Yes… I do know… And I guess… Maybe I’d like that,” Cas admitted though he wasn’t entirely sure about it. He couldn’t run away from it forever, especially not if Sam and Dean stopped to pretend that Jack had been alive and that he had been theirs.
“Are you going to be alright?” Sam asked after a beat.
“I suppose so… In time,” Cas said.
“Yeah… Okay, I should probably finish up here. I will talk to you soon, alright?”
“Of course. Good-bye, Sam,” Cas said and after the call finished he lowered his hand, with the phone still in it, into his lap. He stared at the wall of the motel, a cheerful floral pattern, feeling nothing, except tired. He sat like this for a while, until he finally moved to put the phone back on the nightstand. That was when he noticed that he had a message.
He opened it up but found it to be a text from Dean.
“I miss seeing you this happy -Dean”
Attached to it was a picture that Cas opened curiously. It was a pic of him and Jack, sitting next to each other, with books strewn around the table, but from the smile on Jack’s face they probably weren’t talking about a case. Cas hadn’t noticed Dean taking a picture. And Dean was right, he had been happy then, he looked happy.
And even now, overwhelmed with grief, he could still muster a smile. It had been a good moment, one of many happy moments with Jack.
“🙏 💚 🏹 👼 🫶 👨👦 🖼️ ❤️🩹” Cas typed back.
Dean’s answer came within moments: “You’re welcome.” Castiel put the phone down, then he tilted his head up, looking at the ceiling.
It didn’t hold any answers, but maybe that didn’t matter. Castiel got up from the bed and grabbed his bag. He left the motel and drove back to the Bunker.
It was after midnight, but Dean was awake when Cas knocked on the door. Inside the air was still heavy with rut scent.
“Hello, Dean. I hope you don’t mind the company,” he said to a startled Dean. Luckily, he wasn’t in any compromising situation, clearly in a moment of reprieve.
“No, I wouldn’t mind the company,” Dean said, sounding unsure. “Bed’s a bit of a mess though.”
“That’s alright,” Cas said and sat down. He drifted into Dean’s space within seconds, wrapped up in Dean’s arms.
“We’ll figure it out, I promise.” Dean whispered, rocking him. “If you’ll let me, I’ll do anything to redeem myself to you.” Cas laughed wetly at that.
“Am I supposed to say that you’re stealing my line?” he asked. Dean kissed the top of Cas’ head and Cas held on to Dean a bit firmer. “I’ll let you.”