Every time. Every time, no matter what. Dean always forgave Castiel. No matter how badly the angel had screwed up, no matter how thoroughly he had fucked up Heaven or how many of his own brothers he had killed, Dean Winchester was always ready to forgive, because that's just how he was. However much of a hardass he tried to be, he couldn't shove his conscience far enough down for that to become who he truly was. He was a good and kind man with a forgiving heart. He would be angry at Castiel for a while-of course he would, it was human nature-but he would let it go reluctantly and give Castiel a tight but slightly uncomfortable hug, due to Dean's shoulder ending up pressed into the angel's neck. Dean always forgave Castiel.
So why did he feel so uneasy, pacing the hallway outside of the Hunter's room?
The walls were warded against demons-they had been for a long while before the boys found it-but the boys had added precautions against angels as well, so Castiel couldn't enter without permission and couldn't hear what was going on inside.
He'd screwed up. He'd really, seriously screwed up this time. He couldn't even really remember what had happened, but he knew that it was his fault. There had been a demon. A demon and a pack of Hellhounds. Some kind of warehouse. What else… Ugh, it was such a blur to him now!
The irksome light at the end of the hall was flickering, making him unable to focus, and outside a storm raged incessantly, great claps of thunder rolling across the sky and shaking the ground. The humming of electricity in the boys' bunker sounded like that of a hornets' nest, and it made Castiel feel on edge, trapped in a confined space with such a droning energy.
With a crash to rival the thunderclaps outside, the door to Dean's room was flung open, and standing in the doorway was a man so full of wrath that he reminded Castiel why that had been named one of the seven deadly sins. Tall enough to look down on the angel, hair still dripping wet and spiked in every direction, jaw set like a rottweiler preparing to lunge, Dean Winchester loomed over Castiel, and though he had little chance of actually harming him, the angel found himself cringing back guiltily, like a human child who had tracked mud on his mother's antique rug. Those green eyes blazed with dark fire, gleaming with a righteous fury. He bore the anger of the lost and it emanated from him in hot, bitter waves. His large hands were balled into fists at his sides, straining so tightly that his knuckles were ghostly white, and his whole body seemed to be quivering with the effort of refraining from attacking Castiel right there and then, his odds be damned.
"I thought-" Cas said weakly. "I thought I-"
"Thought you were doin' the right thing?" Dean growled in his low, husky bass. "Yeah, I've heard that before. You always think you're doin' the right thing, and every time you're more wrong than the last."
"Dean, if I had known-"
"You did know!" the Hunter snarled. "You did know, and you still let him go! You told him-That was low, even for you!"
"Jess was-"
"Jess is dead," Dean snapped, and his voice cracked under the stress. He felt Sam's pain for Jess like it was his own. "Jess is dead, Cas, and you went and-"
His throat convulsed, and he couldn't bring himself to continue. Dean slammed his door shut, and it closed with a bang like a gunshot, but it didn't really matter. No amount of noise would be waking Sam up any time soon. The eldest Winchester stalked up the hallway, his shoulder slamming into Castiel's and causing him to stumble back against the wall on his way by. There was no need for him to look back, because there was no question that Castiel would follow into the main room, seeking to fix what had happened or at least to gain forgiveness like he always did.
Fingers trembling like a human's, Castiel hesitantly followed his friend down the hall, casting another look at the door behind which Sam was laying. When he cautiously emerged into the vast kitchen space, Dean had his back to him, leaning the heels of his hands against the cold stone countertop. His shoulders were tight, his damp shirt clinging to his taut muscles. He didn't so much as twitch when Castiel's footsteps squeaked on the linoleum, though there was no way he could have missed the shrill noise. No, he continued to drip water into an ever-growing puddle at his feet and on the counter in absolute silence. Castiel didn't like it.
"Dean…" he said, though what would follow he had no clue. "Dean, he'll be alright."
Dean snorted humorlessly, but didn't turn around. Castiel saw his hands tighten and the fingers curl into fists again.
"Excuse me for not takin' your word for it," he said coldly.
"Your brother is strong," Castiel reassured him. "He has survived worse."
Dean's shoulder twitched.
"Yeah, that's true," Dean acknowledged, but his tone didn't warm up. If anything, it grew even icier. "He survived bein' in Hell. And he survived bein' pulled out of Hell without his soul."
Castiel flinched.
"He survived havin' his soul shoved back into him."
Dean's hands flexed.
"He survived havin' a wall put up in his mind to block out Hell."
Castiel took a step back, finding himself unable to swallow past a massive lump in his throat.
"He survived havin' that wall taken down."
Dean took a deep breath, then slowly turned to face the angel. His face was empty.
"Sammy made it through a lot of bullshit. You know what the problem with all that is, though?"
Castiel opened his mouth, but no noise came out. His shoulders were biting painfully into the wall that he had backed himself against, and though logically he knew it was pathetic and ridiculous for him to be cowering from a mere human, he couldn't quite grasp a hold of that logic. He was too afraid, but of what, exactly?
"Nothin'?" Dean checked, advancing. "No guesses, Cas?"
Castiel remained silent, and Dean raised an accusing finger.
"You," he said, his voice impossibly low. "You're the problem. Sam accepted Lucifer because you told him it was the best pulled him out without his soul. You shoved his soul back into him after it had been torn to shreds by Lucifer and Michael in that cage. You put that wall up in his mind so he wouldn't remember, and then tore it back down. Sam's also doin' the trials now instead of me, because you weren't there when he asked. It's killin' him, man. You're killin' my little brother, and I'm done."
"Dean, what I did-" Castiel said hoarsely, trying to find something he could say that would excuse what he'd done.
"What you did was mess with my little brother," Dean snarled, jabbing him in the chest. He glared down at Castiel, and for a moment Castiel saw the power of Michael inside him, the potential to host a wrathful archangel. His green eyes blazed with that much passion and that much fury. "I've killed people for a whole lot less, Cas."
Castiel stared at Dean, his mouth hanging open stupidly.
"You won't kill me, Dean," was all he could think to say.
Dean continued to scowl down at him, then took an abrupt step back. Castiel thought he was going to turn away, and he started to relax, but before he could blink, a blunt force collided painfully with his jaw. His head slammed back against the brick wall, the taste of iron filling his mouth and stars popping in front of his eyes. He raised a confused hand to his jaw, unsure what had just happened and finding it difficult to bring the room into focus. Another sudden blow to his face knocked his head back into the wall again. A sickening crunch and a burning, fiery pain in his nose preceded a warm gush of liquid that caught on his lips, providing more of that disgusting, metallic taste. Castiel stumbled sideways, raising his hand to his nostrils even though the flow had already stopped. His eyes watered as the bones in his nose straightened out, healing themselves in a hot pain almost as bad as when they had broken. He looked around, blinking the spots of blackness away, and came face-to-fist with Dean just before yet another blow caught his cheek. Castiel stumbled again and fell against the counter, grasping the edge to hold himself steady.
"I put up with so much crap for you," Dean snarled, grasping Castiel by the front of his shirt and lifting him onto his toes. "You do whatever you want and I deal with it. Do you know why that it, Cas?"
"Because," said Castiel roughly, his fingers wrapping around Dean's wrists, "you are my friend."
"Yeah. But friends appreciate each other," Dean said, and he shook Castiel like a rag doll. "Friends don't do what you do. Friends protect each other."
"I protect you," Castiel protested automatically.
"Oh yeah?" Dean laughed coldly. "Sam nearly died because of your protection, Cas."
"I didn't-"
"Shut up!" Dean roared, and flung Castiel aside. The angel just managed to land on his feet, and he watched as Dean strode away, raking a hand through his spiked hair. "Just shut up, Cas. Nothin' you have to say means anything anymore!"
"Dean-"
"I told you to protect Sammy!" Dean said, voice cracking as he whipped around to glare with bright, shining eyes. "I told you to keep him safe, Cas!"
"I didn't-there wasn't-" Castiel tried weakly.
"I'm done trusting you with my brother, Castiel," he said, his voice as soft as a whisper. "I put up with all your mistakes, but this is the line. Nobody fucks with my brother. Nobody, Cas."
Castiel stared at Dean, dumbfounded. The hunter's eyes shone with tears that he would never shed, but his jaw was set. He'd made up his mind.
"Get out."
Castiel blinked.
"What?"
"Get out, Cas."
The room was silent but for the humming of the electricity overhead and through the walls. Dean was positively trembling with emotion, but Castiel had gone impossibly still, as though he had become a statue. Their gazes were locked in a silent battle of will, and whoever looked away first would lose. Castiel knew that, and he couldn't let Dean do this, but neither could he continue to look into Dean's face and see such horrible pain, pain that he had caused. Castiel bowed his head.
"I understand," he said softly. "Goodbye, Dean."
Dean said nothing.
"I'm sorry."
There was a current of air that came from nowhere, and Dean was left alone with his emotions. The moment Castiel was gone, all of Dean's fight went out of him, and his legs buckled under his weight. His knees crashed to the floor, he sank his head into his hands, and his folded shoulders began to shake.
R&R
