This fic was inspired by the song "A single man tear" from the 200th episode and a piece of fanart that I intended to put as cover image but that won't load, sorry for that inconvenience. The story-line stretches over about a week and so far every chapter describes the events of one day but I probably won't keep that up until Day 7 so I'm guessing this'll be around five chapters total? I'll post chapters 2, 3 and maybe even 4 over the weekend, so stay tuned.

Spoilers for all things season 10 but ignoring the mid-season finale teaser trailer.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, like, at all.

Warning: swearing

Feedback: much appreciated!


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Underneath This Broken Mask

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Dean stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, death-glare directed at the pair of suitcases standing by his brother's feet as if they had spread a nasty rumour about him on national television. He didn't believe Sam's weak-ass excuse- that there was an easy hunt across the country that he could take on alone- for even a second. He knew what this was. This was Sam escaping his moods and all the crap that was happening since the Purification. This was Sam running away from Dean pretending like the past months didn't happen and all was good and they were still just chasing their monsters of the week.

Savin' people.

Hunting things.

Yeah, no. He got it, actually. And God knew he wanted to run too but that shit wasn't gonna happen because that's the whole point. The core of their problem was Dean's knee-jerk reaction to run away from every fucking thing that made him uncomfortable and at the moment that thing was that he had no idea when the mark on his arm would wake and unleash its wrath anew. He just knew that whenever it happened, he wouldn't want Sam there again. Which, in turn, meant Sam did everything in his power to be there, shooting concerned glances, talking about feelings and being so freakishly forgiving for things that should never be forgiven anyone that Dean was about ready to barf rainbow-kittens from all the brotherly love floating in the bunker.

Needless to say, none of Sam's efforts to make Dean feel better had the desired effect and with every act of kindness another brick joined its companions in the wall that was Dean Winchester's self-loathing. He was a failure in the eyes of Heaven, Hell and Earth alike and messed up every chance he got to be a better man by making an irrational decision in a Kamikaze attempt to save a world that was, in the end, not worth saving.

"Dean, you know I don't want to do this," Sam said, breaking Dean's concentration and focus on the suitcases. And really, what kind of amateur hunter used those inconvenient pieces of shit instead of duffel bags? When exactly had Sam gone back to being a rookie?

Dean huffed with dismay and frowned at his moose of a brother across the room. "Sure you don't. I get it. Your services are needed."

Sam stared back, unfazed. "I think it might be good for you to really take a break from everything. That itch you get? The one that has you all antsy and ready to hit the road? As long as we can't be sure that that isn't coming from the mark…"

"Oh, suck it up, Sammy, will ya?" Dean summoned all the restraint he could to not punch the wall he was leaning against. "Just because the friggin' mark is the easiest explanation don't mean it's not crap and you know it."

His brother's guilty look at the ceiling told him that he was right, which wasn't that surprising. When Sam met his eyes again they were full of determination nonetheless. "Like I said, we can't be sure," he said coldly. "And I can't have you hunting if there's even the tiniest chance of you hitting me with a hammer the moment I turn to-"

"That was totally uncalled for." Dean's heart thrummed in his ears as he interrupted. He was aware that Sam was doing this on purpose, winding him up so he would storm off in anger or something, and he tried hard not to be affected. So far it was working but he was dangerously close to his breaking point, especially with his brother throwing out his accusations like flyers for summer sale.

Sam's hands lifted in a gesture of defence, palms facing Dean. "I know. I'm sorry- that was- I'm just trying to help, Dean. And I know this isn't the best way to do it but at the moment I can't think of a better one, so…" Dean was well aware that he had long lost the fight and was just buying time now but he had always been a stubborn sonofabitch. This was no exception. However, before he could come up with a snarky remark or half-assed attempt at an insult he didn't mean, Sam heaved a sigh, checking his phone. "Listen, there's one more thing."

Dean let his hands fall to his side. "Great, Sam. What is it? Are you planning to chain me up in a damn Devil's Trap until you're back, just to be sure I stay here like a good boy?" Now that was just as uncalled for as Sam's comment had been but Dean didn't care.

"Actually, I was hoping we moved past that stage," another voice said and Dean jumped because it came from behind Sam and he hadn't heard anyone enter the room. A moment later Castiel stepped into view.

"Cas?" The incredulity in his voice was close to insulting but Cas' eyes stayed benevolent, blue as ever and heavy with the bags below them. Dude looked like he hadn't slept in ages. For a moment Dean was tempted to crack a smile, after all Cas wasn't the one he was angry at, but then it dawned on him that he probably wasn't just there at the bunker for the mere pleasure of catching up. "I don't need a damn babysitter, Sam!"

"Not everything's about you, you know. Maybe you wanna ask what went down before you jump to conclusions. I'm leaving." For a moment Sam hesitated as Dean sent a look in Cas' direction that was to equal parts confused and apologetic and then he dived forward for an awkward moose hug. Dean reluctantly accepted it, patting his brother on the back before pulling away, understanding his actions even while he didn't like them.

"Take care and gank the bastard, y'hear?"

Sam nodded, evidently relived that they wouldn't part in a fight. "Sure. I'll call when I get to a motel." With that he gathered his stupid-ass luggage that was probably more nerdy tech stuff than anything else and strolled off toward the bunker's exit, stopping just before he stepped out of sight to send one last stern look back at Dean. "No hunting for you while I'm gone."

Dean rolled his eyes and crossed his heart mockingly in a promise but his brother didn't see the action as he waved goodbye to the angel in the room and disappeared out the door. Dean sighed, dragging a hand over his face and feeling ridiculously like a grounded teenager, before he looked at Cas. "Okay, Mary Poppins," he said, "Might as well make the best of this. Coffee?"

Castiel frowned. "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious."

In response, the hunter's eyebrows lifted up at least half-way to the ceiling. "Excuse me? Did you just seriously get that reference?"

"The name just triggered something. I understand a lot of things related to human pop-culture now, but most of the time it's just a blur of phrases and images that don't make much more sense than before."

"Huh." Dean shrugged. "Never mind, then. C'mon." He turned and motioned for Castiel to follow him into the bunker kitchen because even if the angel had neither agreed nor disagreed in question to the coffee, the hunter definitely needed some caffeine. While he rummaged through the kitchen for a cup and everything else he needed, Cas just stood awkwardly in the doorway, hands flexing by his sides. As the coffee began to brew, Dean took a moment to look a little more closely at his friend. He already looked more rumpled than the last time they'd seen each other and the corners of his mouth were pulled down as if a constant weight was attached to them. It tugged at a part of Dean's heart he usually pretended wasn't there.

"You been sleepin' enough?" he asked casually, leaning back against the kitchen counter. Cas laughed but it was without humour and sounded more pained than anything else.

"No. Not at all. You?"

"Yeah, me neither," he admitted gruffly, thankful for the distraction of the finished coffee. "You want one too?" If it were Sam he wouldn't ask twice, wouldn't try so badly to ease the awkwardness that was so tangibly lingering between them. Cas wasn't as trusting of him either, much like his brother. To them Dean was a ticking time bomb as long as the Mark of Cain still stuck to him.

"Yes, please," Cas said with a nod, giving Dean another excuse to look away, in search for a second cup. As he filled both ceramic containers with steaming liquid he thought hard about what Sam had said about 'asking what went down', he also noticed that Hannah wasn't with Cas, so maybe that had something to do with it. Instead he asked if Cas wanted milk in his coffee. When the angel shook his head, Dean took both cups and sent Cas walking ahead with a nod into the study room's direction which was where the most chairs were situated.

Once seated he pushed one cup towards his friend before settling with his own. "So," he started, "What's new?"

Cas grimaced and reached for the cup, licking his lips but not drinking the coffee. "Hannah has returned to Heaven," he said finally, intensely gazing at the hardwood table before adding that she had left her vessel downstairs. Dean didn't know what to say to that, so he stayed silent, waiting for the angel to elaborate on his feelings and whatnot. When Cas remained quiet too he thought for a brief moment that this was already the end of story time but just as he was about to change the subject, Cas spoke again. "It overwhelmed her. The realisation that she had stolen someone's life by taking over a vessel." Castiel cracked a sad half-smile before looking from the wooden table up at Dean. "It was a very human reaction."

The hunter nodded, unsure. "I guess." There was another pause as he watched the angel across from him finally take a sip, tracing a stray drop of coffee with his tongue afterwards in a thoughtless motion that Dean tried hard to not find distracting. "How're you holding up?" he asked with genuine concern.

"I'm going to miss her," Cas admitted with a nod. "She has grown to be a… friend."

"I'll take your word on that, Cas. Last time I checked she wanted you to stab me."

"Dean," the angel chastised sternly. "She was trying to protect the others, which I have repeatedly failed to do. I'm not asking you to understand that but you should at least respect the companionship I share with her." Cas waited until Dean acknowledged the request with a court nod before he continued. "Anyway. It's not only that I'll miss her company, her departure has also reminded me of my taking over Jimmy Novak."

"What d'you mean?" Dean asked between sips of coffee.

"I mean," Cas said with a tinge of annoyance, "that I had no right to interfere in his life the way I did, even if I thought I was doing it with divine tenacity. And unlike Hannah I can't return him to his family, to the people who loved him and whom he loved. This vessel," he motioned vaguely down his torso, "has long since stopped being just that. It's my body now, there's no host to give it back to. I just wish I could go and see them and apologize for my actions."

"Wait, them? As in the Novaks?" Dean was thankful for the fact that his mouth was empty, or he would have ended up doing a spit-take.

"Yes. I have used the internet to find their current whereabouts. They no longer live in Illinois."

Dean realized with a pang that Cas was seriously considering a visit. "Dude," he said carefully. "Even if you manage to get an address or something, what are you gonna do? Just turn up at their doorstep, like 'Heya, remember me? The angel of the friggin' Lord that took your husband away and possessed your daughter for a wee while?' I'm sure they're gonna love that." Cas swallowed, a pained look on his face, but said nothing. So Dean continued. "Listen. I get it. You wanna do something right, but this ain't the way, Cas. They know what went down. Pretty sure they've accepted it too. They probably started a new life away from all the freaky angel shit, you turning up out of the blue… that's not gonna help anyone."

"I suppose you're right," Cas admitted quietly, voice breaking slightly and gaze hollow until he regained his composure. "As you said, I just want to the right thing."

And damn, Dean understood why the angel looked so heartbreakingly devastated. If anyone understood how crappy 'doing something right' could feel, it was the hunter himself. After all he could practically co-author a pamphlet on how not to do it. That's part of the reason why his next words made him feel like the biggest hypocrite since vegan bacon. "Just promise me you won't do anything stupid, alright?"

"Yes, Dean," Cas said. There was a short pause before he got up, tapping the table absentmindedly. "Is there anywhere I can sleep? The drive has been exhausting."

For half a second Dean was confused, not used to Cas having human needs like that but he quickly blinked that confusion away and got up as well. "Sure, grab your stuff and meet me at my room, I'll just take care of these first." He grabbed the two cups, in various states of emptiness, and disappeared back into the kitchen without looking at the angel he left behind.

Roughly seven minutes later he found Cas leaning against the wall next to his room and for a moment some abstruse part of his consciousness was tempted to invite him inside, tuck him in on his bed and pull up a chair to make sure the guy got some rest but something about the thought of Castiel in his bed triggered a feeling that Dean was masterful at dismissing, so he quickly walked past the temptation and waved for Cas to follow him down the hall. A couple of doors down he stopped, letting it swing open. The room was barely furnished, there was a desk in the corner, a couple of books were messily stacked on a shelf and the bed dominated the centre with an air of not having been slept in for fifty years about it.

"Mi casa es su casa," Dean mumbled as Cas pushed past him and into the room, dropping his duffel bag (Damn it, Sam, even Cas knows better than you) on the bed and immediately losing the tan overcoat. He hung it over the back of a chair, patting it almost lovingly as if wishing it a good rest as well. Dean's heart clenched at the sight of the angel in just his slacks and white shirt, top buttons undone- secretly Dean had always meant for this to be Castiel's room, and now that he was actually there it woke a feeling in his chest that he wasn't entirely willing to acknowledge.

"Thank you, Dean," Cas said as he unbuttoned his shirt at the wrists in order to roll the sleeves up to his elbows, revealing his tanned forearms. Dean allowed himself to trace the skin with his eyes, following the line of the angel's arms up to his broad shoulders, before snapping out of it in the hope that it hadn't been noticed.

"Well then," he said, awkwardly clearing his suddenly weirdly dry throat, "Feel free to use the shower or grab stuff from the fridge. If you need anything, you know where to find me."

Cas offered a tiny smile, which was really just a twitch at the corner of his mouth. "I appreciate it, but I really am just looking for a few hours of rest. Goodnight."

Dean knocked on the wall in a nervous gesture and nodded. "Night, Cas. See ya in the morning." With that he turned- somewhat reluctantly so as he realized Cas was about to undo his belt. But since it was none of the hunter's business in what state of undress Cas slept, he hurried to close the door behind himself. Damn angel could sleep butt naked for all he cared. (Goddamnit, brain! No need for the technicolour visuals on that one. Jesus.)

A quick glance at one of the many clocks in the bunker told him that it was barely past eight, so there was little hope for him to find rest so soon as well. That settled, the hunter strolled into the main study, sure that there was a bottle of Whiskey with his name on it somewhere in the liquor cabinet there.