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Fall 2010/Winter 2011
Dean stared at the angry red scars crisscrossing his right leg, which were stark against the pale skin. He’d never worried about his scars in the past, but this was something else altogether.
The marks were a reminder of how much he’d lost, and what he was beginning to suspect he’d never get back.
Cas touched him on his bare thigh. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know. Am I?” Dean asked hoarsely. He was still weak from the fever and the infection, and after two weeks in bed, he could barely sit up on his own.
“You were supposed to have at least one more surgery,” Cas replied. “So, I don’t know, Dean. I have no idea how bad it is, and I have no power to heal you.”
Dean tried to move his leg and nearly passed out from the pain. “Shit.”
“Don’t try to move it,” Cas ordered. “The doctor said you shouldn’t move it for at least twelve weeks. He couldn’t put a cast on the leg because of the lacerations. I think they were going to immobilize the leg some other way, but I don’t know how.”
Cas sounded like he was getting worked up, and Dean reached out to grab his arm. “Hey, man, you did the best you could. Thank you. I’ll be fine.”
Cas gave him a skeptical look. “You still shouldn’t walk on it if you can avoid it.”
“Then I’ll avoid it,” Dean promised. “You going to wrap it back up again?”
“I think it’s the best way to immobilize it,” Cas replied. “Is that okay?”
“I’m not sure that ‘okay’ is the word I’d use, but I get that it’s necessary.” Dean braced himself. “Go ahead and do it. Just wrap it tight.”
Cas had a splint, and he put it on Dean’s leg and wrapped it tight enough to prevent him from moving it. Dean grunted in pain, and then relaxed back onto the bed once Cas was done. “That was pleasant,” he said faintly.
“I’m sorry,” Cas said miserably.
“Not your fault,” Dean insisted. “You’ve gone above and beyond, Cas. You didn’t have to stick around.”
Cas frowned. “Of course I did. I’m with you, Dean. I will be with you as long as you want me here.”
Dean wanted to pull him closer, to breathe in Cas’ scent, to feel Cas’ hands on him.
He blamed the painkillers Cas had managed to procure.
“I’m never going to want you to leave,” Dean replied, grateful that he had something to blame for this bout of honesty. “You can stay as long as you like.”
Cas nodded, as though it was settled. “Then I’ll stay.”
Dean trusted him to stick around, which was good, because he couldn’t get by without Cas. With Bobby in the chair, and Ben just a kid, Dean relied on Cas to take care of things. He didn’t want to, but he didn’t have a choice right now.
“Do you need anything else?” Cas asked.
Dean shook his head.
“Food?”
“Not hungry right now,” Dean replied, and read the tightening around Cas’ mouth that said he was disappointed. “But maybe in a little while. I’ll try anyway.”
“Thank you,” Cas replied. “You’ve lost too much weight as it is.”
“Couldn’t be helped,” Dean said. “But I’ll try to do something about it.”
When Cas had gone, Dean scrubbed his hands over his face. He’d been injured badly before, like when his heart had been damaged, but this felt different. Dean had never expected to be on the disabled list—mostly because he hadn’t believed he’d live that long.
Dean wasn’t going to walk away from this one—pretty much literally. Only time would tell how well his leg would heal, but Dean was willing to bet that his leg would never be the same.
He just hoped it would hold him.
~~~~~
Ben hovered in the doorway anxiously, watching as Dean levered himself up onto his feet with Cas’ assistance. “Can I help, Dad?”
“Not right now, son,” Dean replied. “But you can stand by if you want.”
Ben stayed where he was, watching them, probably wishing he had his dad back the way Dean had been before he’d been hurt.
“Don’t put your full weight on it,” Cas instructed. “Lean on me.”
“I am leaning on you,” Dean groused. “I have to put some weight on it, just to see if I can.” Dean tried to take a step on his injured leg, and it nearly buckled under him. “Fuck.”
“Slowly,” Cas demanded. “How is your pain?”
“It fucking sucks,” Dean snapped. His leg already ached, and his knee was so stiff, he wasn’t sure it would ever bend again.
Cas held him still. “We don’t have to do this now. Maybe you should wait longer before trying.”
“I doubt it’s going to get any better,” Dean snapped. “I just need to work through it.”
“You need to take it easy,” Cas responded quickly, angrily.
Dean met Cas’ eyes. “Help me.”
Cas sighed. “Slowly.”
They walked the room very slowly, with Cas on his bad side and taking most of his weight. His knee wouldn’t bend very well, he didn’t have any range of motion, and his leg hurt so much he broke out in a cold sweat, but he managed to get around the room.
And when he was done, he collapsed back onto the bed, completely wrung out.
“You have to promise me that you won’t try to walk on your own,” Cas said severely.
“I don’t think that’s something you have to worry about,” Dean assured him wearily. “I doubt I’ll be repeating that any time soon.”
Ben sat down on the bed next to Dean gingerly. “Are you going to be okay, Dad?”
“Well, I’m not going anywhere.” Dean cracked an eyelid to look at him. “Hey, Ben, I’m going to be fine. Maybe I won’t be running a marathon, but I’ll be fine.”
“You’ve never run a marathon,” Cas said, confused.
Dean chuckled, and Ben giggled. “Figure of speech, Cas,” Dean said. “I’ll be happy to walk on my own again.”
~~~~~
Dean woke to a sharp pain in his leg, and he let out a groan before he could bite it back. He’d been getting terrible cramps in the upper thigh of his injured leg, probably because his gait had been altered by his stiff knee.
Plus, he’d had a lot of exercise today, using one of Bobby’s trucks with a blade to plow the driveway.
“Are you okay?” Cas asked from the pallet next to Dean.
“Fine,” Dean said through clenched teeth. “Go back to sleep.”
Cas propped himself up on his elbow to look down at Dean. “You’re in pain. Can I get you anything?”
Dean shook his head. “It’s just a cramp.”
“Where?”
“It’s not important.” Dean clutched at his thigh, trying to massage the spasming muscle.
Cas sighed. “Sleeping on the floor is not helping you.”
“I’m on a mattress,” Dean protested. “And I’m fine.”
They had pulled the mattress downstairs to be closer to the fire, partly so they could tend to it, since it was their only source of heat right now, and partly because it was easier to heat one floor, and Bobby couldn’t go upstairs.
And they were sleeping side by side because Cas insisted on keeping an eye on Dean, and Dean didn’t mind nearly as much as he probably should.
“You’re fine,” Cas said in a flat tone, and then he pushed Dean’s hands away to dig his fingers into the cramping muscle.
Dean opened his mouth to protest that this wasn’t what friends did for each other, but he liked Cas touching him too much for that—and he appreciated the sheer relief that Cas’ strong hands brought.
In minutes, Cas had managed to rub the cramp out, and Dean relaxed into the mattress.
“Roll over,” he said, and Dean obeyed.
Cas dug his thumbs into the knots in Dean’s shoulders, and his warm palms smoothed the tense muscles of Dean’s lower back.
“I’m not going to walk normally again,” Dean muttered into his crossed arms.
“No, not the way you used to,” Cas agreed and rubbed the back of Dean’s neck. “Is this okay?”
It shouldn’t be, but Dean couldn’t say no. “Don’t stop,” he said instead.
“I will be here as long as you need me,” Cas replied.
Dean relaxed further under Cas’ touch. “Good.”
Summer 2014
Dean tripped over a toy in the hallway and caught himself on the wall, biting back a sharp cry of pain, and then he lost his balance, his bad leg going out from under him.
He breathed in slowly, trying to keep his stomach from rebelling at the sudden spike of pain, and tried to remember that his kids would be kids, and they would leave their toys out where he could trip over them.
“Dad!” Ben exclaimed, rushing over to Dean’s side. He crouched down next to Dean and pulled Dean’s arm over his thin shoulders. “I’ve got you.”
“I’m okay,” Dean protested.
Ben sighed. “Yeah, and the little kids left their toys out again. I told them to pick their shit up.”
“Yeah, well, kids,” Dean replied weakly. “I just need some ice.”
“I’ve got you,” Ben repeated. “Don’t worry about it, Dad. You just need to sit down and put your leg up.”
Dean sighed and let Ben help him to the kitchen. “You’ve been taking lessons from Cas.”
“I could do worse,” Ben shot back. “Sit.”
Dean sat and propped his leg up and let Ben drape an ice pack over his bad knee. “I was going to start dinner.”
“We’ll have sandwiches,” Ben said. “We’ve still got some ham; it’ll be fine.”
Dean was in pain and angry with his infirmity. He should be able to handle it by now, given how long it had been. He knew better than to not watch where he was stepping, especially with the kids leaving their toys strewn about.
“Dad, it’s okay,” Ben insisted. “I can take care of things.”
“You shouldn’t have to,” Dean said.
“Life never gives us exactly what we want,” Ben countered. “You taught me that. Cas should be home shortly anyway.”
Dean stayed where he was, because he couldn’t do anything else. “This shouldn’t fall on your shoulders.”
“We take care of each other, and sometimes that means that I take care of you,” Ben said firmly. “Like you took care of me. It’s cool, Dad.”
“Thanks,” Dean said. “I’m sorry you have to, though. You deserve better, Ben.”
Ben shot him a look that Dean couldn’t read. “I couldn’t have better. Let it go. I’ll handle things.”
Dean knew he didn’t have a choice in the matter. “All right.”
Ben gave him a relieved grin. “Okay?”
“You’re in charge until Cas gets back. In fact, you can be in charge of the kids until you put them to bed if it means that much to you,” Dean replied. “I trust you, son.”
Ben actually blushed. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Don’t thank me until you’ve got everybody in bed,” Dean warned, just as the younger kids clattered through the door.
Cas joined Dean immediately. “What happened?”
“I tripped over a couple of toys,” Dean said dismissively. “Ben’s handling the kids tonight.”
Cas smirked at him. “So, does that mean I can handle you?”
“I can’t believe you used that line,” Dean shot back with a delighted laugh, ignoring Ben’s gagging noises from the other side of the room.
“I’ve learned from the master,” Cas said. “I’ll see what I can do for you tonight.”
That couldn’t come fast enough as far as Dean was concerned. He always liked to have Cas’ hands on him.
Late Summer 2016
Dean let out a breath as he relaxed under Cas’ warm, callused hands. “Sam’s been making himself scarce,” he murmured.
“Don’t think about your brother right now,” Cas demanded.
“Hard to think of anything else,” Dean admitted.
Cas hummed under his breath. “Then I must not be doing a very good job.”
“You’re doing a great job,” Dean protested. “It’s just—I’m not going to be able to go on a lot more hunts.”
Cas’ hands stilled. “No. You overdid it on that leg. The muscles still haven’t loosened.”
Dean huffed out a laugh. “I’m getting old.”
“You’re not old,” Cas replied quickly, a little heat in his tone, and Dean rolled over so he could see Cas’ worried eyes. “You’re younger than I am.”
“You seem to be wearing the years better,” Dean said easily. “It’s all right. I’m not planning on going anywhere. My leg won’t take me far.”
Dean had known for a long time that he was the center of Cas’ world, but it always floored him to see the evidence of it on Cas’ face in unguarded moments like this one.
It let him forget about his aching leg, at least for the moment.
“Come here,” Dean said and pulled Cas to him.
Cas pressed his face to the side of Dean’s neck, and Dean felt his lips over his pulse. “I would heal you if I could.”
“I know you would,” Dean murmured.
Cas sighed. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”
Dean knew that Cas wasn’t talking about his leg anymore—or not just his leg, anyway. “I don’t think Sam knows what he wants,” Dean replied. “And he certainly doesn’t know what to do with me.”
“You’re referring to your leg.”
“It’s not just hunting,” Dean admitted. “There are days when I’d give anything just to be able to chase after the kids.”
Cas made a muffled sound against his neck.
Dean pressed his lips to the top of Cas’ head, and they stayed like that until they both fell asleep.
Spring 2018
“I’m going to kill him,” Dean hissed, and then started coughing again.
Cas ran a hand through Dean’s greasy hair. “I’ll help you,” he said grimly.
“It should be me,” Dean insisted. “I should be out there right now. I should have gone after him, and if it wasn’t for this stupid leg—”
“Dean, you’re sick,” Cas said, interrupting him. “Yes, your leg would have made it more difficult for you to go after Ben, but you have pneumonia.”
“Had pneumonia,” Dean insisted, and then ruined it with another bout of coughing.
Cas sighed, and said dryly, “Oh, yes, you’re completely over it.”
Dean coughed so hard that his ribs ached, and Cas braced him against his chest.
“Easy,” Cas murmured. “I’ve got you.”
Dean finally caught his breath, weak and spent, and Cas rubbed the back of his neck. “How about a bath? You might feel better, and you’re starting to smell.”
Dean managed a smile and said, “Don’t make me laugh. I’ll start coughing again.”
“Come on,” Cas coaxed. “I’ll run the water, and I’ll wash your hair.”
The offer was too good to pass up. “Yeah, all right.”
Dean’s leg nearly gave out under him, and he had to let Cas half-carry him into the bathroom. Dean accepted the help into the tub, sinking down into the hot water up to his neck.
“I’ll be back,” Cas promised. “I’m going to check on the kids. Don’t fall asleep.”
“I won’t.” The hot water went a long way toward easing his tight muscles. His knee had stiffened up during his prolonged bed rest, and he knew this illness had pushed him back a step or two.
The water had just barely started to cool when Cas slipped back into the bathroom. “All’s well,” he assured Dean. “Mary has things well under control.”
“At least one of my kids is responsible,” Dean muttered.
Cas didn’t respond to that. “Duck down,” he said.
Dean immersed himself completely, and then gave himself over to Cas’ hands.
“Your son is very much like his father,” Cas finally said as he massaged shampoo into Dean’s hair. “I’m certain that he thought he was doing what was right.”
Dean snorts. “Be that as it may, he took off with barely a note. The only reason we know is because you found it in the trash. Sam wasn’t nearly as careful as he used to be when he tried to hide stuff.”
“I’m not sure he wanted to hide it,” Cas countered. “And Sam will take care of him. He’s more than capable.”
“That’s the only reason I’m not heading out after him now,” Dean admitted. “Deathbed or no.”
“You’re not on your deathbed,” Cas replied fiercely. “Don’t say that.”
“Not yet,” Dean agreed. “Not for a long while, if I can help it. I want to meet my grandkids someday.”
Cas pushed on the top of Dean’s head. “Rinse.”
By the time Dean emerged from the tub, he felt truly clean for the first time in days, if not weeks, and the hot water had loosened his muscles enough that he didn’t have to lean quite so hard on Cas as he made his way back to bed.
“You’re doing better,” Cas said approvingly. “The hot bath was a good idea.”
“You could just say ‘I told you so,’ like a normal person.”
Cas smiled. “I’m not a normal person, though, and we both know it.”
“Wake me if Ben comes in,” Dean insists sleepily. “Please.”
“Of course.”
But Dean woke up the next morning with no word from Ben or Sam.
~~~~~
It was three days later when Sam finally showed up with Ben in tow. The antibiotics had finally started working, and Dean was moving around slowly, mostly without coughing. His leg was still stiff, and threatened to give out under him half the time, but he could at least hobble around without assistance.
When the door creaked open, and he heard heavy footfalls on the floor, Dean knew it was Sam who had returned, even from the kitchen. And the slower footsteps had to be Ben’s.
Dean levered himself up from his seat in the kitchen, and limped out to the hallway. Cas had come downstairs, probably from tucking the kids in, and Mary flew downstairs, pushing past Cas to throw her arms around Ben, who gave a pained grunt.
Mary pulled back, her hands moving in a wordless apology.
Ben’s hands stilled hers. “No, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he said. “You were right.”
Dean took in his son’s shaking voice, the bruising on his face, and the way he held himself gingerly, as though he had broken ribs, and his anger bled away.
Ben held Mary, his eyes closed, and a pained expression on his face.
“Ben,” Dean said quietly.
Ben’s eyes snapped open, and Dean saw a flash of fear on his son’s face. “Yes, Dad?”
“You’ll sleep in here tonight,” Dean insisted. “Henry will be happy to give you his bed, I’m sure.”
Ben nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Go on upstairs,” Dean said. “We’ll talk more in the morning. Mary, make sure he’s all right.”
He could read the gratitude in Mary’s expression when she glanced at him as she followed Ben upstairs.
Sam stayed where he was. “I take it you found the note.”
“Cas did,” Dean said, with a glance at his partner. “He said you probably meant us to find it.”
Sam nodded. “I thought you should probably know, so I didn’t cover my tracks as well as I could have.”
Dean took a breath. “I need to thank you for doing what I couldn’t.”
Sam frowned. “No, man. Don’t.”
Dean stared at him. They had saved each other so many times, but that had been different. Sam had saved his kid’s life—he’d saved Ben. “You saved my son’s life, Sam. What do you want me to say?”
“He’s my nephew,” Sam said gently. “What else was I going to do?”
“Nothing,” Dean admitted. “I know that. You wouldn’t be you if you hadn’t gone after him. You did what I couldn’t do.”
Sam smiled. “You can do more than you think.”
“Not with this leg,” Dean countered.
Sam shook his head. “If it came to that, if you needed to go after one of your kids, you would. In spite of the leg.”
“And I never would have managed it,” Dean countered. “What was it?”
Sam smiled, his expression nostalgic. “It was a wendigo. Nasty SOB.”
Dean closed his eyes, knowing what would have happened to Ben if Sam hadn’t gone after him. “Sam.”
“It’s okay.” Sam clasped Dean’s shoulder. “He’s fine, and he got a lesson in what’s most important to him. He won’t do it again. That’s the most important thing.”
“I suppose I have you to thank for that,” Dean said.
“More Mary, really,” Sam countered with a grin. “He loves you and Cas, but I think you have some idea how he feels about her.”
Dean chuckled. “Yeah, I have some idea.”
Sam nodded. “I’m going to get some sleep, if that’s okay with you.”
Dean pulled Sam into a tight hug, unable to resist. “Thanks,” he whispered into Sam’s ear. “Thank you.”
Sam patted him on the back. “My pleasure.”
“You’re staying here tonight?” Dean asked.
Sam nodded. “Yeah. Send one of the kids if you need me.”
“Thank you,” Dean said again, because it was so good to have his brother here, so good to know that he could count on Sam again.
“Go to bed, Dean,” Sam said fondly. “You need the rest.”
Cas was waiting for Dean when he entered the bedroom, sprawled out on the bed in his boxers. “Come here, he said. “I’ll help you work out the tension.”
Dean grinned, suddenly in the mood for sex the way he hadn’t been for weeks. “You’re on,” he said. “But my leg still isn’t great.”
Cas shook his head. “Do you think I care about that?” He ran a hand over Dean’s cheek, scratching Dean’s shaggy beard. “I never have before.”
“No, you haven’t,” Dean agreed, and feels as though a weight has been lifted from him. His kids were home and safe, his brother was here and looking to stay, and Dean had Cas, who took care of him in every possible way.
In spite of his leg, Dean was okay—he was better than he had been in years.
“Show me what you’ve got,” Dean invited, and Cas grinned.
And Dean couldn’t help but think that it had all been worth it in the end.