But under skinned knees and the skid marks.
Past the places where you used to learn.
You howl and listen.
Listen and wait for the echoes of angels who won't return"
Castiel stood in the kitchen dutifully stirring the spaghetti sauce, taking a taste of it and furrowing his brow, trying to figure out what spice to add to it next. He had quickly fallen into the domestic role in the household. It made him happy to spend the day around the house. It was a grounding thing for him in a way, having a routine that he could follow and things he accomplished each day. It wasn't saving people from the grips of Hell or defeating demonic entities, but dust bunnies and grease stains (from Dean's overindulgence in burgers) were far easier to conquer.
The only thing missing from their lives were the pitter-patter of little feet. They had a cat who had gotten so used to being called "That Damn Cat" by Dean when it would scratch him for being too rough that it barely responded to much else. Originally it had started out as Snowball, a white, rescue from the local pound. After Cas had nearly taken home three more cats on their last visit, Dean had forbade him from going back to the pound. But a cat was not a child. It was not the culmination of his and Dean's love. It wasn't a small human who could hug him and ask him to fix something special for their birthday or get excited over Christmas presents (although TDC had gotten pretty excited over the new cat tree this past Christmas).
Dean had taken a desk job for a while, but got himself fired when he accidentally pegged his boss in the forehead when he was throwing a tiny stress relief ball off of the back of his door and letting it bounce back onto his desk. Right now finances were okay, but things would be getting tight if Dean didn't find another job. At least Sam had adjusted well enough to 'normal' life. But Lord knows he had been desperate for some semblance of normal since he was a kid. He worked as a paralegal at a local law firm while he worked on getting back in college. All in all, their lives were more quiet and calm than they had been in a long time. Even Dean had been on his best behavior and hadn't taken on eighteen hunting jobs the previous week.
Castiel hummed some 60s song as he opened the oven and checked the garlic cheese bread. The room was suddenly swarmed with the smell of garlic and cheese and his stomach gave a soft gurgle. He hadn't eaten all day, and was still getting used to the whole 'eating every six hours' thing that humans did. Though he'd been fallen for a while now, it was a small window of time compared to the thousands of years he'd spent as an angel. The water for the noodles began to boil and he poured the noodles into the hot water, stirring them with another spoon to make sure they didn't stick. He added a dash of rosemary into the spaghetti, lowered the heat, and stirred it once more before he wiped his hands on his apron and walked into the hallway. Dean's voice caught his attention.
"Alright, so we got a case. Demon in Chicago. Uh-huh," Dean was scribbling things down in a notebook, "Yeah, yeah possession and all that fun shit. Huh? Yeah, I gotcha. We'll be up there as soon as we can. Thanks, dude."
"Another case? Dean…" Castiel stood in the hall, still holding his wooden spoon, with a sad expression on his face.
"I'm sorry, Cas. It's just—"
"I know, you have to save these people. I understand, Dean." Cas' smile was sad and small, and his shoulders slumped in defeat.
"We'll be back before you know it, babe. I promise. Unless of course you want to come?"
"No, no, you and Sam go. I am out of the people-saving business."
"You sure?"
"Positive."
That evening Dean was especially excited over the dinner and kept telling Castiel how good it was. They both knew he was sucking up to try to spare Cas' feelings, but it wasn't going to do them any good tonight. Cas smiled and nodded, barely touching his spaghetti. He mostly shoved it around on his plate until Dean was done, and then carried everyone's dishes into the kitchen. Dean helped him wash the dishes and kissed him several times before they went to sleep. Cas stayed awake long after Dean's snores had taken over, and simply watched him. How could he be angry with Dean over leaving? Dean had to save the world and Cas knew that when he got into this relationship. But that still didn't make up for how alone he often felt. Eventually sleep overtook him and his eyelids closed as he rolled over and curled up next to Dean.
The next morning the bed was already cold when Castiel finally stirred. The smell of coffee wafted through the house and he could hear the familiar cocking of guns in the living room where the brothers were cleaning them and loading them before their trip. A duffle bag stood next to the door of the bedroom as Cas yawned and got up, running a hand through his thick, brown hair. As he expected, the boys were sitting over the kitchen table, which was now covered in gun oil stains and grit, with a cup of coffee next to both of them. Cas made them both a big breakfast so they wouldn't have to stop on the way to Chicago.
Dean and Sam got to Chicago and back with minimal damage, and it seemed like they weren't home 24 hours before the next call was coming in. Cas, again, stood off to the side watching Dean shove things into his duffle bag. Dean kissed Cas and promised that he would take a break and stay home for a while. They both knew it was a lie, and that Dean would be back in the Impala heading for the next monster that went bump in the night before the end of the week. It was tiring and it had begun to wear down and Castiel and make him resentful. He'd never once forced Dean to stop hunting, he understood that it was ingrained so deeply in his nature that it was almost impossible to stop completely. But it was the repeated lies about how Dean would stop for a few weeks so they could be together that hurt Cas the most. The way that hunting always took priority over the man who had quite literally, and figuratively, fallen for him.
"Cas, listen, we're on our way back now. Or…well, we were on our way back. We got a call just right when we finished the job and now we have a fucking chupacabra situation in San Antonio we gotta deal with. Are you okay with me going?" Dean's voice crackled from the poor reception in whatever area he was driving through.
What was Cas supposed to say? 'No, come home right now and forget you were ever a hunter!' wouldn't fly with Dean and Cas understood that. Instead he'd said it was fine, and that they would just make plans whenever he came back. Cas had plans to surprise Dean and take him out to a special dinner with the money he had stored away from his bagging job at a grocery store. He had wanted them to do something with just the two of them since it was getting close to their anniversary. Castiel frowned as he dialed the number for the restaurant.
"Hello, my name is Castiel Novak and I have reservation for Friday." Cas resisted the urge to sigh into the line.
"Mr. Novak," The woman at the hostess station was the same one he'd made friends with over the years, and she was chipper as always, "how are you this evening?"
"I'm doing okay, Michelle. My fiancé had another business trip so—"
"You need to cancel the reservation again?"
"Yeah, yeah. I'm sorry, Michelle. I know it is in poor etiquette of me to continue to set up these reservations and then cancel them." Castiel scratched out the reservation in the planner he had on Dean's desk.
"That is perfectly fine, Mr. Novak. I understand how difficult business meetings can be. I worked through college as a flight attendant and we often had guys who had to jump from one cross-country business meeting to another." Michelle responded.
"Thanks, Michelle. I'll try to reschedule whenever Dean makes it home."
"Have a good afternoon, Mr. Novak. Oh, and please… just, take care of yourself okay? Make your own happiness the priority and you can never go wrong."
"Thank you, Michelle. I'll keep that in mind." Castiel responded before hanging up.
And true to what he said, Castiel did think about it. He thought about it a lot while he waited for Dean to get back. The hours had drug into days before Dean called again to say that the situation was worse than they thought, and that he and Sam would be staying a few extra days. Tying up loose ends, saving people, hunting things, the family business. The same shit he'd heard so many times that he could recite it in his sleep. As Castiel hung up the phone he bit his lip and looked out the window. A decision had to be made and he would have to be the one to make it. The loneliness was overwhelming. And he didn't know how much he could stand before it destroyed him.