Unspoken Words Aren't Always Unsaid
Dean is cured, so naturally he decided to do the right thing and give in to Anne Marie's wishes. Cas is human, so naturally he decided to do the right thing and give in to Hannah's desire. Neither one knew just how wrong their definition of 'right' was.
Dean stared at the pale lime slab of wood before him, rooted to the spot. This wasn't the type of place Dean Winchester should be, at least not without 12 different fake identities on hand. It was a nice suburban neighbourhood, filled with immaculate lawns and rowdy children, porch swings and garden gnomes. Dean checked the slip of paper one last time. This was definitely the correct location.
Dean shifted nervously in anticipation. Why was he so jittery? It was just Cas. Warm, familiar, welcoming, Cas. Cas, who had always been there, in Hell, in Purgatory, even in Heaven. Cas, who would always accept Dean, even when no one else would. Maybe that was the problem. Dean was afraid Cas would accept him, Anne Marie and all, without a second glance. With only a warm smile and a cordial 'nice to meet you', with only a platonic pride. Still, even that would be far more than Dean deserved, what with his tendency to ruin everything he touched, and especially with his latest fuck-up. He had managed to turn himself into a demon and do all sorts of unpleasant things to humanity. Righteous man indeed. No, Dean didn't deserve an ounce of warmth from anyone, especially Castiel. So why was he expecting it? Craving, even. He had missed the way Cas's eyes lit up when he saw Dean, missed his ruffled hair, missed his piercing blue eyes and soft smile Dean liked to think was reserved just for him. Sure, they had their faulty judgements, time and time again, from both sides of the equation, but they had always come back to each other. After all, what are friends for? In his heart, Dean knew Cas would be there for him no matter what. The question was what type of pain Dean was willing to subject Cas to this time.
Dean felt a hand gently squeeze his own. He turned with a start, wildly whipping his head around until his gaze settled on the yellow-haired woman beside him.
"Relax," she smiled. "It's going to be okay."
Dean ruffled his hair, embarrassed. He tried for a smile. "I know. Of course it will."
"No matter what happens in there, we'll always have each other," she soothed.
Her words didn't have quite the intended effect on Dean. He tried to conceal the sudden pang in his stomach by pressing a kiss into her hair, pulling her close. She smiled and buried her head into his shoulder.
Taking a deep, measured breath, Dean knocked on the door.
Dean heard a high voice calling out, and then the faint shuffling of feet growing nearer. Finally, the door opened to reveal a familiar face.
A suit-clad, brunette angel was standing in the doorway, wearing a completely unperturbed expression. "Dean. I see Castiel's plan succeeded. Though Sam Winchester must be given some credit for execution, I suppose." Her voice was brusque, unperturbed. She shrugged."Come on in. The kettle's just boiled."
Dean stood there, slack jawed, until a gentle hand on his back guided him through the door. Reluctantly, Dean followed the woman into the house. Hannah. The very angel who had handed Cas the blade and told him to kill Dean. One of the angels who had failed to have faith in Cas, just another mindless, greedy puppet who would only follow Cas when he was the most powerful player on the field. Someone who had betrayed Cas's trust and followed Metatron, only to come back after the truth had been exposed. She had proven her disloyalty, her lack of worth. So why was she navigating what could only be assumed to be Cas's house with such easy familiarity?
They rounded the corner into a modern-looking kitchen. There were black, polished marble countertops and shiny silver faucets. An electric stove hugged one wall and a large, three-doored fridge with a touchscreen adorned another. On a small table was a clay teapot, and beside it four teacups. A familiar shape of a man was bent over the table, pouring a brown liquid into two cups.
Dean took a step forward on the smooth, polished hardwood floor. It just felt... wrong. The hard angles, sparse furniture, this whole place was nothing like Cas. Cas was quaint countryside farms, bee keeping, rickety wooden tables, and large comfy sofas. What was his angel doing here?
"Cas, it's... It's him." Hannah spoke softly, resignation evident. She was obviously less than enthusiastic, pursing her lips at the sudden shift in Castiel's demeanour.
Dean tensed. Since when did Hannah get to call his angel Cas? Something ugly reared it's head deep in Dean's gut. He suddenly had a strong urge to draw his blade, take the two steps forward, and slip the weapon deep into her abdomen. And whoa, where did that come from? Dean ran a hand through his hair self-consciously, smoothing the thought away. It's only natural. She tried to get him to kill you. But give her a chance. Cas seems to trust her.
Across from him, Cas was slowly turning around, hesitantly, like he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. When those electric blue eyes found Dean's, Dean could barely hold back a shiver. Because he was happy to see his friend again, obviously. Which had nothing to do with how Cas's tongue darted out to wet his lips, and how he definitely wasn't thinking about those eyes and that tongue somewhere much closer than six feet away. No. It was just nerves, obviously. It was normal to miss a good friend like this after so long, right?
Cas's eyes combed over Dean, analysing every bit of the hunter. Dean shifted, most definitely not preening under Cas's intense gaze.
"Hello, Dean." The angel's voice was steady as ever, but Dean knew him well enough to detect the hint of disbelief, of uncertainty. And something else suspiciously close to fear.
"Hey, Cas. Long time no see, huh?" Dean tried for a casual smile, but failed rather spectacularly. There was simply too much tension. Words unspoken hung like a thick fog between the angel and hunter. It shouldn't be like this. Things with Cas had always been comfortable, easy. They shouldn't be facing each other from across the room, Hannah beside Cas, Dean beside Anne Marie. It should be the two of them beside each other, leaning just a bit too close. It should be Cas and Dean, it had always been Cas and Dean, the two of them against the rest of the world, whether it be the fires of hell or the cold wrath of heaven. It was never meant to be this way.
Dean had barely finished his thought when he was enveloped in a warm embrace. "Dean," Cas breathed in his ear, "I thought- I hoped, but I never-"
"I know," said Dean throatily, tears threatening to spill over, "I know." In those words he tried to convey all that could never be said between them. They stayed like that for a long time, each unwilling to be the first to let go.
"Well," said Anne Marie, clearing her throat loudly. Dean shot her dirty look, but she pointedly ignored it. "I know you had plans to stay, but we should really get going. Sam just shot me a text. Looks like we've got a new lead on the hell-gates. Fate of the world at stake and all, you know."
Cas wordlessly unraveled himself from Dean's embrace. He averted his eyes, and took a step back, sliding closer to Hannah. "You should go."
Dean looked pleadingly back, and finally whispered softly, trying to pour all his emotions into his words, hoping Cas would understand. "You should come with us."
"I can't." The words were cold, but Dean could read the regret, the want in Cas's eyes, a look that Dean returned. "I'd be of little use to you without my powers. My place is here." Yep, definitely regret. An all-too familiar mixture of dread and guilt and self-pity was stewing in Dean's stomach. He couldn't take this. He couldn't just leave Cas again. Not today, not ever. Dean felt the stew begin to boil into something a bit different.
"No. Not this time, Cas. I'm not letting you go again." Beside Dean, Anne Marie's hand shot to his arm, and she began squeezed a warning. Dean shook her off, taking a step towards Cas.
"I'm not letting you run off again to God knows where, on your mission to save everyone else by sacrificing yourself. Do you have any idea what it's like, not knowing, worrying every day, hoping that you'll answer my prayers next time? After everything we've been through, I think I deserve to know. To know if you're alright, if you're ever coming back, Because dammit Cas, I-" Dean faltered, realisation suddenly dawning. He moved to close his mouth, but what the hell, why not. It wasn't like things could get any worse between them at this point. "I love you," He finished much more softly. Dean looked up tentatively to see hard, determined sapphire eyes.
Cas had already breeched the distance between them, had already reclaimed Dean's arms, had already brought their lips together. Dean felt hot tears sliding down his face, but he couldn't care less. Dean was barely aware of anyone else in the room. He couldn't acknowledge anything but Cas. Nothing else mattered anymore, not when Cas was holding him like this, not when Cas was finally touching Dean the way he had always wanted him to. Dean sobbed into Cas's shoulder breathing 'I'm sorry's over and over again, and Cas effectively shut him up with a series of kisses on his lips and then climbing lower, across his neck and down his collar bone, saying more than words ever could. They clutched each other, holding on for dear life, because each was scared that if he let go, this would all turn out to be some cruel dream.