Dean sat with two fingers pressed against either temple, massaging a gnawing ache just behind his eyes, when he heard Cas shuffle through the kitchen.
Dean shifted in his seat, a heavy weight pooling in his stomach. He'd sat at this bar for the last hour trying to gather his thoughts, trying to piece words together into sentences that would act as a soothing balm on the wounds he'd left on his friend the night before. He'd tried phrase after phrase, none of which felt right. Then the dull throb began to build. He didn't even get his four hours last night.
Cas couldn't stay in the bunker. Ezekiel had made that very clear. The angel had threatened Sam. There was no other option. Cas had to go.
Delivering the news hurt Dean exactly as much as he thought it would. It was painful having to send his friend away after only just finding him again. Dean had been so relieved to see Cas. Dean had been so happy to have Cas around again. It tore at a deep, splintered part of his chest to witness Cas crumble as Dean spoke the words: "You can't stay."
Cas stayed the night, though. He had no where to go and it was already late. Dean had a heated argument with Ezekiel but the angel consented in the end. "One night, Dean. Then he must leave." The angel used Sam's level best bitch face. Message received.
Cas floated around the bunker the rest of the evening, like a ghost given up hope. He moved silently from the library, down the hallway and to one of the spare rooms. Dean followed Cas's every move, aching to comfort him. He wanted to explain to Cas why he couldn't stay. He wanted to sit with Cas and tell him everything. About Ezekiel. About Sam. About Benny and Meg. Dean desperately wanted to sit and just...
Have his friend back. Unconditionally.
Dean watched from the hallway outside the door to his own room as Cas moved from the spare bedroom to the bathroom. His shoulders curled, head bowed, he lifted his eyes briefly to meet Dean's. The whites of Cas's bloodshot and rimmed in red. His cheeks raw from wiping away tears. Dean swallowed hard and turned away, looking to the floor. Dean listened, watching dust scatter across the floor, as Cas closed the bathroom door between them.
Hours later, when Dean lay in bed wrestling demons in the dark, he could hear Cas down the hall. Through the doors and the thick walls, Dean listened to his friend's sharp, shuddering, staccato breaths. Dean lay on his back, twisted in sheets and sweating, staring into the darkness with an emptiness unfurling through his chest. A single tear escaped, trailing into his ear. Dean brushed it away.
He couldn't sleep.
Dean sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He tossed the sheet off and flexed his toes as he pressed his feet against the cool concrete floor. His head hung to his chest, eyes closed. He held the bed, gripping the fitted sheet. The sweat clinging to his skin suddenly chilled. There was another sharp breath from the room down the hall. Dean swallowed a thickness in his throat. He stood and padded quietly out into the hallway. The bunker was cool, dark, dry. The hair on his body bristled in contact with the night air. Dean ran a hand down his exposed chest to the waist band of his boxers.
He paused outside Sam's room listening for any movement inside. Sam seemed to be sleeping. Or Ezekiel seemed to be hiding. Dean felt a boiling helplessness at the thought.
He crept to Cas's door. He heard another muffled sob as he turned the handle. He slid into the room, pushing the door to behind him. All the rooms were laid out the same so it was easy for Dean to move through the dark toward the sounds until he bumped into the bed. Cas sniffled but didn't move. He didn't speak. Carefully, Dean crawled into the bed. He laid down on his side and moved until his own chest was pressed against Cas's back. Cas was hot to the touch, shaking, and still holding in tears. Cas clung to his pillow even though the material and fluff was soaked in places. Dean wrapped his arm over Cas's waist pressing the palm of his hand into Cas's chest. Cas's breathed haltingly, his body tense. Dean pulled Cas tighter to him, pressing his nose into the nape of Cas's neck.
Dean held his friend for hours while Cas cried. Dean curled his own shoulders around Cas's. He pressed his palm into Cas's chest so firmly Dean could feel the newly human heartbeat under every shuddering breath. He breathed in Cas's scent: fear, anger, loneliness, rejection. When Cas's breathing finally slowed, quieted to a steady rhythm of sleep, Dean relaxed his hold. Cas had melted against him, slowly relaxing into Dean as he cried himself out. Dean lay awake, listening to his friend breathe. He lay awake feeling Cas so close to him. He lay awake memorizing the feel of their bodies pressing together. He lay awake memorizing the scent of the man. He lay awake wishing Cas didn't have to leave.
Dean, ever so gently, pressed his lips to a spot just behind Cas's ear. Tears sprung to his eyes and he blinked to hold them back. He moved again, licking his lips then pressing them against the back of Cas's neck. He kissed again and again, a new spot each time until tears were streaming from his eyes. He kissed Cas's shoulder and the sleeping man stirred, slightly. Dean pulled back. When Cas settled again, shifting his head into his pillow, Dean let his own head rest behind Cas's. He pulled Cas in tightly again and held him.
Dean woke to Sam, no, Ezekiel in the doorway shaking his head. "He has to go." The angel said. "It is morning." In response, Dean closed his eyes and held Cas close. He heard Ezekiel move down the hall to the library then he carefully pulled himself away from the sleeping man. Dean refused to wake him.
Now Dean sits at the bar in the kitchen watching Cas pouring cereal into a shallow bowl. Cas hasn't tried to make eye contact. He hasn't spoken since Dean delivered the news the night before.
Dean cleared his throat. Cas poured milk over his cereal.
"Say something, Cas."
"I'm giving up on you." Cas sad, speaking over Dean, his voice hoarse and small. He still hadn't looked at Dean.
"What?" Dean asked, shocked.
"Anywhere, Dean. I would have followed you anywhere." He said, his voice breaking. The pain, the betrayal hanging on every word.
"Cas," Dean pleads.
"I feel so small like this. As a human, Dean." Cas says, digging through the utensils drawer. "I'm in over my head. I know nothing... nothing at all."
Dean leaned into the bar resting his head in the palms of his hands. He rubbed his thumbs into his temples. "This isn't about you being human."
"Isn't it?" Cas dropped a spoon into his cereal. "I'm still learning, Dean. Every step I take, I stumble, fall, crawl."
"I'm doing my best." Cas sighed, sitting down at the opposite end of the bar from Dean.
A silence stretched between them. Dean pressing his thumbs into his temples, willing himself not to cry or lash out or, worse, break down and tell Cas the truth. He listened to the quiet tink of the spoon against the bowl, the demure sounds of Cas eating. Cas eating. Damn.
"I'm sorry," Cas whispered during a lengthy pause between bites. "I'm sorry I couldn't get to you when you needed me."
A tear squeezed it's way between Dean's lashes, coursing down his cheek.
"I'll be...If you wan't me to, I'll just go." Cas pushed away from the table, leaving his cereal half eaten.
"Cas, please," Dean began, turning in his seat and reaching out to his friend.
Cas turned on him, jaw set and cheeks red. "I love you, Dean!"
Dean froze.
"There, I've said it!" Cas said, tossing his hands in the air. "You're the one that I love, Dean. You! I love you!" Cas flushed in anger. "I've lost everything. I have nothing. I have no family. I have no friends. I have no soldiers. The only thing I've had is you and now you're asking me to leave?"
Dean turned away, tears brimming in his eyes. His lungs burned. He clinched his jaw, unable to allow himself to give Cas an answer. When he looked back, Cas seemed deflated, all the anger draining from his features. Cas shoved his hands into the pockets of his red pullover. Cas shifted awkwardly and sniffed.
"Good bye, Dean." He spoke, his eyes on the floor.
Dean turned his back. He heard Cas walk through the bunker to the door. As he heard the door close, Dean wiped the tears from his face. He turned to find Sam, no, Ezekiel propped in the doorway. Taking in Dean's tear streaked cheeks, Ezekiel shook Sam's head. Sam's hair falling from behind his ears where the angel tucks it back. He peeled Sam away from the door frame and walked back to Sam's room.
Dean stood in the kitchen, breathing. He pressed his eyes shut, replaying the moment, trying to etch it into his memory forever.
"I love you, Dean!"
"I love you, Dean!"
"I love you, Dean!" Another tear breaks through... and then another.
"I love you, Dean!"
"You're the one that I love, Dean!"
Dean lowered himself back into the very chair he'd sat in all morning. He lay his head onto the counter, took a shuddering breath, and allowed himself to cry. Through halting sobs, he whispered a prayer, "I love you, too, you son of a bitch."