Title: Can you feel me?

Author: phar_ahkmenrah (halfblood alchemist)

Genre: Dean/Castiel, hurt/comfort

Rating: pg-13

Warnings: nude angel, some swearing, brief reference of blood and violence

Spoilers: 5.18 generally, but pretty AUish; mild 5.21

Summary: Dean ponders his angel's sacrifice, and has an unexpected visitor…

~*~

Dean slammed his way into the motel room, the last dregs of his adrenaline high running hot in his veins. He hardly noticed Sam enter the room shortly behind him, tossing their bags and the still-bloody box cutter onto the table beside him. No one spoke, the moment weighing down heavily on their conscious.

Sam watched Dean flop listlessly on the motel bed, covering his eyes with his arm. Seeing his older brother so upset curdled Sam's stomach, and he was forced to avert his eyes, taking steadying breaths to calm himself before any other undue emotions spoiled the moment of silence. Now was not the time to lose his cool; not when Dean was already suffering in his own silent revere of guilt.

Dean exhaled sharply, pointedly ignoring the tension in the air, and the lacking of a certain angel in the room. Neither of them wanted to think about what had happened mere hours before; what the waning angel had been forced to do to help the Winchesters back at the warehouse. Zachariah's smug face danced in the corners of Dean's mind, taunting him despite his recent demise. Dean may have eradicated one enemy… but that didn't mean they were even remotely close to success, and Castiel's absence was testament to that. Damn them…

The showdown in the green room was not the prime worry on Dean Winchester's mind… it was his angel's disappearance, his act of selfless service that he once again bestowed upon them that weighed on Dean's mind the most.

It had been such a simple plan: distract the angels, grab Adam and beat a hasty retreat. Easier said than done. It had begun to take a turn for the worse the moment Castiel withdrew the box cutter from his pocket. Dean shuddered at the memory, sitting up suddenly as a wave of half-dazed nausea and worry flooded him, taking shuddering, calming breaths before he lost his constitution. Silence stretched onward, the tension thick enough to cut.

After a few minutes of this, Sam finally cleared his throat, breaking the spell that had befallen the motel room. "I'm, uh… I'm heading out. Don't wait up for me." He muttered before leaving, without giving Dean a chance to fit a word in edgewise.

Dean stared at the recently vacated door, mouth slightly open as his brother left him. He fought the sudden bile of anxiety as it welled up in the back of his throat, not thinking about his loneliness. It seemed that everyone was just… leaving him today, dammit!

Dean sighed, sitting up properly on the edge of the bed, as he rested his elbows on his knees. He stared at the far wall, lacing his fingers together to rest his chin on his fists in a tense crouch on the bed. Despite his anxiety, now that he was alone, he could properly think through what had happened that day.

His eyes landed on the box cutter, still stained with Castiel – Jimmy's- blood, and he winced, glancing down at his own hands. Flecks of crimson still dried under his fingernails, and if one looked close enough at the handle of the box cutter they would find the distinct thumbprint of the hunter along the ridge where he had gripped it mere hours before.

He still couldn't believe what he had done; what Castiel had asked of him. But then again, the angel had always done anything Dean asked for, without a second thought… it was just absurd that his request would be so… macabre. Dean took a breath, closing his eyes as his mind wandered…

* a few hours prior*

"Dean…" Castiel murmured, pressing the cold plastic into Dean's shaking hands. Tugging at his tie, he loosened it completely before threading it from his neck and balling the silk up into a blue wad of cloth. Turning his eyes to Dean, he stared hard into green orbs, his face resolute; cold.

Dean cleared his throat, glancing down at the ominous yellow box cutter with a practiced calm. "What's this for? Expecting a package, Cas?"

"Dean, you must do this I cannot properly carve the sigil…" Castiel muttered, popping each button from their respective eye, one deliberate action after another. After agonizing moments, the shirt fell open, revealing an expanse of pale, firm skin.

Dean's eyes darted from blade to chest and back again, his breath catching sharply in his throat. Surely, Castiel did not mean… "Cas… no.. no way man, I can't do that…" He stammered, looking to Sam for help.

Sam swallowed, his face draining as he watched his brother and his angel, the blade glinting in the too-hot California sun beating down on the three of them.

Seeing that he would get no help from his baby brother, Dean turned his pleading eyes back on Cas, shaking his head again with finality. "No, Cas. I can't do that to you… I can't…"

"Dean! There are so few things I ask of you… and here I ask for one thing… one favor, in order to ultimately assist you in stopping the Morning Star… and yet you have no will to even try." Castiel snapped, eyes hardened as he glared into pleading orbs. He remained resolute, crossing his arms over his bare chest as his gaze crushed Dean's will to the ground.

Dean averted his eyes, taking a shuddering breath before flicking the blade open slightly. "Alright… Cas I…" Pausing, Dean turned to Sam, motioning to him. "Sam, will you… g-give us a minute?"

Sam nodded, understanding his brother's plight. The angel-, despite his transgressions, his arguments with Dean, his quirk-, was the closest thing to a true partner his brother would have. Any other past relationship seemed dull in comparison to the fiery, passionate partnership of the two. Sam knew it would have only been a matter of time before his brother got his head out of his ass and realized his feelings for the nerd angel, but now those hopes of happiness were dashed with every rejection of his brother's feelings for the concept of a steady relationship with the angel.

Now, it seemed that his brother was coming to grips with the inevitable a moment too late. Not willing to say so, however, Sam bid them this moment and left them be, walking away quietly. Whatever happened in the warehouse… whatever Castiel did… he knew he did it for Dean. He always would.

Dean stared hard at the ground for a moment before glancing up into what he assumed would be cold, icy eyes. What he saw instead surprised him. Castiel's eyes, although filled with disappointment and intensity, practically glowed in devotion and love for his charge. "Cas…"

"Dean…" Castiel sighed, his arms falling away to reveal the open skin again. He watched Dean's gaze avert to the bare skin, before continuing. "I will always do what I can to help you, Dean. You and your brother. It is my duty and my want." He stepped closer, taking Dean's wrist in his hands. "Dean… please remember that…"

The hunter caught Castiel's gaze and held it, his mind racing with his thoughts. "… ok." He grunted finally, nodding his head once. "Ok, just… let's just get this over with…"

Castiel nodded, stepping back as Dean extended the blade with shaking hands. He felt the hunter press his palm to his chest, pulling the skin taut as the sharp blade cut short, sure gashes into his skin.

Dean winced visibly, watching the blade sink again and again, blood welling over the box cutter and his hands, running down the angel's chest. He marveled at how Cas didn't even react to the abuse, his eyes boring steadily into Dean's. So much devotion flooded forth that Dean felt he was drowning in a sea of disappointed adoration.

After what seemed like ages, Dean stepped back, eyes raking over the fresh sigil carved into Castiel's flesh. He said not a word as the angel simply buttoned his shirt up and turned towards the warehouse door. "Cas!" Dean yelped suddenly, feeling a surge of fear strike his heart. His mouth went dry as Cas turned a questioning eye on him. "… kick ass in there." The hunter managed to choke out, staving off the lump in his throat.

Cas nodded once, before turning to his fate. "I hope you are successful, Dean Winchester…" And before the hunter could respond and speak his mind, Castiel walked into his fate.

*now*

Dean shook his head of the memory, covering his eyes as he struggled to take a calming breath. 'Get it together, Winchester…' he thought to himself, looking up at the box cutter again. He knew it was too late but… wherever, Cas was… if he was alright… He hoped he knew his mistake. "Cas… I'm so sorry… I hope… I hope you're ok…"

The only response to his quiet admission was the cold walls of the motel room. Frustration welled in his chest and he bit back a growl of despair. "Dammit, Cas, I'm so sorry! I should have… I shouldn't have let you go in there alone… I wish I had helped you more, instead of being such a dick! You… you don't deserve it. All you've done is help me, you've given up everything –heaven, your family- for me… and I never even told you how much you mean to me. How much I care." Dean looked up at the ceiling, up to the heavens as fresh tears filled his bloodshot eyes. "Cas… if you can hear me… if you're ok… please give me a sign."

Moments crawled by, and nothing happened. No signs. No angel sighting. Nothing. Dean bit his lip, letting his first tears in a long time grace his freckled cheeks as they streamed down his face. Letting go, he allowed himself to cry quietly, mourning the hurts of his war, everything accumulating into this one moment, and now… now even he was too late to tell his angel how much he cared for him… how much he was sorry, and how much he-

Dean swallowed thickly, realization a warm heavy knot in his stomach. He knew now… How much he loved him. "Cas…"

~*~

Castiel watched the scene unfold, watching with heavy heart. He wasn't sure how… how he was present in the room, how his grace had managed to find its way to Dean. His own banishment should have prevented his finding; the sigils should have protected Dean even from himself. Should have…

It seemed that fate had other things in store. Now, he stood, bare, graced by only his tattered, weak wings as he watched Dean come to a realization in his own mind, his emotions bringing forth a whole side of Dean that the angel had only seen in dreams. So it was true… Dean loved him. Castiel felt a swell of relief, smiling slightly at his hunter. "Dean… I understand.." Castiel said, hoping to bring peace to his hunter. But no response came. Castiel frowned, calling to Dean again.

Nothing.

Dean couldn't see him… couldn't hear him. Not even his true form was perceivable. The realization hit Castiel hard, as he watched with growing remorse as his hunter fell into deeper depression, his guilt and self-loathing strong in his soul. At least Castiel could still see that…

Cas knelt before the grieving hunter, resting his hand gently on the back of Dean's neck, as he stared longingly into unseeing eyes. "Dean… I know. I understand. I wish… I wish I could express to you what it is I feel…" Another stab of pain lanced through the angel at Dean's lack of recognition. It was as if Castiel didn't even exist.

Then… Dean's plea for a sign. This was his opportunity. The angel smiled, taking Dean's hands in his. "I'm here, Dean… I always will be."

Castiel stood again, smiling sadly down at the hunter for a moment. Reaching out, he tugged slightly at Dean's pocket, the cloth coming loose from its confines. He knew he didn't have long. His body… his empty vessel was missing and if his tattered wings were any indication, he needed to repossess soon, or else he's be stuck like this; stuck between the physical and the spiritual in an eternal limbo, forever separated from his beloved hunter.

Disappointments were strong, and always would be… but this time, Castiel could live with it. He fluttered his wings for one last flight, knowing this was his last night as anything resembling an angel… but he could live with it now. He felt his broken spirit being drawn to the sea, and went willingly, a smile gracing his lips. "And yes… I love you as well…"

~*~

Dean paused, growing tense. He thought… he could a sworn he felt a presence. But the room was empty. No one entered, the window was closed… yet it seemed that a distinct fluttered filled the air, feather soft caresses of air against his skin. He blinked, looking around the room slightly. "Ok.. that was fucking weird…" he murmured, pressing his hands back into the mattress to stand.

Something was on the bed.

Looking down, his eyes caught sight of a familiar piece of blue silk, folded neatly on the mattress. Castiel's tie. He thought…

Dean smiled, gripping the silk tie in his shaking hands. "Ok Cas… I believe you…" he whispered, his tears turning to joy as he kissed the blue tie reverently.

So yeah, he didn't get fireworks and blinking neon lights for a sign. He didn't get blazing trumpets and a parade down Main Street. But he could live with this.