AN: So, it's 2 in the morning and I'm writing fanfiction again. Ah well, at least if relaxes me. Anyway, this story takes place after episode 8.23, 'Sacrifice'. I may write another chapter where Cas explains to Dean what happened, but I don't know yet. Also, I'm the worst at naming things so I'm sorry about the title.
Cas still hadn't spoken. It had been three days after the Fall; three days since Cas became human; three days and not a word from the disheartened ex-angel.
Dean did all he could to take care of him after discovering his friend was no longer a celestial being. The hunter comforted him, fed him, and even provided now-needed sponge baths. Castiel didn't even acknowledge Dean. The only movements he made were the slow rising and falling of his chest and the blinking of unfocused eyes.
Castiel seemed to be floating. He purely existed in nothingness. No, that wasn't right. He could feel pain. Mind-numbing, eye gorging pain. Not the physical sort, either. This pain originated deep in his cheat and infected the rest of his body, until it grew difficult to breathe.
So, he locked himself away, not even his ears were functioning as he lay on a memory foam mattress with Dean in a nearby chair. Dean didn't know what else to do, so he sat. He sat in the company of a non-lucid ex-angel and wondered how on Earth he could deal with this.
Luckily, Sam was gradually getting better and no longer coughing up blood. They could almost pretend that he only had some sort of virus; like he wasn't not pumping the fate of Hell through his veins. Well, it was one less thing for Dean to worry about, at least.
On the third day of silence, Dean began to talk. Awkwardly at first, but he had to distract himself from the pale face with blue bags under its eyes.
"Cas, um, I don't know what happened and I don't know what it did to you, but I just want you to get better. I guess I need you to get better. I mean, you're my only friend not to mention how many times you saved my life..."
Dean went on this way, rambling for hours and hours, hardly able to look at the face of his mute and fallen angel. After a pause in his long-winded babble, he lowered his voice to a whisper.
"Cas, I miss your voice. I know, sappy, right? Well, either way, it's true. Please say something. I want you to talk about it. I want you to get better."
Dean sat there for a while before he silently left the room.
Returning the next day, Dean was mad, no, furious, "Why won't you speak to me?! I'm your friend, damn it! I just," he sighed. "I guess I just don't know what to do anymore. All I know is I can't lose you, not again. I will bring you back, whatever it takes."
The days dragged on that way: Dean speaking to an inanimate body. Sometimes he would be angry, other times sad, but mostly he was just desperate. By the sixth day, he began telling stories.
"Did I ever tell you about what I thought of you when we first met? I was actually kinda scared of you, but I guess also in awe. There you were, this mysterious creature I had never even heard of, and you said you saved me from Hell.
"I don't even think I can describe how that made me feel. It was like I was important for once in my life, ya know? Somebody actually cared for my well-being. Even if I didn't really know you, you felt familiar even back then. I guess that has something to do with this Grace-soul connection thing you told me about." Here, Dean shook his head. "I miss you. I really do."
Dean even began speaking about something he had tried his hardest to bury and lock away: Hell. Nearing hysteria more and more with each passing day, he began asking questions he knew would never receive an answer.
"Did you see what was happening in Hell? Did you know what it was doing to me?" A bubble of laughter escaped from the hunter's throat. "I was pulverized and flayed, branded and scalded, carved and sliced. Eventually, the fire burned too hot; the knife dug too deep and I just couldn't.
"Somewhere in my demolished gut I knew it was wrong, but I guess moral compasses don't really work in Hell, because I didn't stop. At least, not until you came. When you came I just...dropped everything and ran. I didn't care that you could be a trick, I needed to get the Hell outa Hell!
"And honestly? I don't really know why you bothered saving me, seeing as I had already broken the seal. But I'm glad you did. I'm glad we met. And I'm just glad you saved me all those times, and sometimes you did it with just a look—something that made me feel whole and wanted even when I lost everything." Here, Dean trailed off and felt tears burn his eyes. He quickly wiped them away and exited the room.
Days turned into weeks and Dean grew restless. He began screaming at his estranged friend.
"Cas! You can't just leave me like this! After all we've been through I will not let you leave this way!"
Hoping for a reply that never came, Dean stormed out of the room and grabbed the closest object—a lamp—and hurled it across the room where the light bulb shattered. Growling, he grabbed his keys and went for a drive.
On the 27th day Dean controlled his anger. Today, there was pure desperation and need in his voice as he spoke to his beloved friend.
"Cas, I'm tired, so, so tired. I just want you, okay? Please just come back to me," A shaky breath followed the deflated words. "I don't even know if you can hear me, although I hope you can, I want to tell you something I should've said from the very beginning."
Dean knelt in front of Castiel and forced the unseeing eyes to meet his own agonized emeralds.
"I love you, Cas. I have always loved you and I always will. Now...I think it may be too late, and for that I am so, so sorry." The hunter moved in to press a short, chaste kiss to his best friend's lips. When he pulled away, he opened his eyes to see a fallen angel staring back at him.
"...Dean?"
Dean wrapped his powerful arms around Cas and allowed his tears to fall freely. "Yeah, Cas it's me." Both hunter and ex-angel sobbed on one-another's shoulders but neither man noticed or cared.