Seeing Castiel's Bad Side

II

A/N: Set right after My Bloody Valentine. This is Dean/Castiel.


Dean was right. Eventually Sam stopped running off, he stuck around longer and longer, and eventually didn't leave unless he had a reason. Dean watched this progression over the next week, noticing with bitter humor that it was as though they resigned themselves to the fate of being stuck together. Two people bound by something greater than blood, greater than brotherly affection, greater than friendship.

They were bound by destiny.

Dean pulled off the highway, preferring back roads. There was something about the empty space; something familiar and comforting about it, like a home town. If you are by yourself and feel lonely, then that makes sense, but if you are surrounded by others in their sedans and talking on their cell phones, and you still feel lonely, then you have a problem. Dean had a hard time dealing with seeing them out of the corner of his eye. There was something cruel about the fact that they were all blessed with a serene ignorance that Dean hadn't had since he was four years old.

Dean looked away from the pine trees that lined the road. The sky was turning gray, the green black creating a gothic contrast. He stared at his brother for a few moments. Sam's head was resting against the window pain, his knees bent awkwardly as he had to squeeze his large frame into the passenger seat. Dean raised his eyebrows as he looked back onto the road. "Nobody ever thought I was short until they met my brother."

He chewed on the inside of his cheek. Then again, while Sam was there physically, he wasn't really there like he used to be. He had always been the feeling one in the family. Both introverted and extroverted, he was usually able to relate to everyone, and genuinely… genuine. Sam had been excitable, a bit of an angel when he saved lives.

Well, not like Castiel, Uriel, or Anna Angel, but like sweetheart angel. Puppy dog eyes and whatnot.

Dean might have been shocked at seeing his 2014 self, stupefied at Castiel's 2014 self, but it was Sam's 2014 self that had permanently dismantled something inside Dean. If anyone else had seen it, they hardly would have suspected anything was terrible wrong. Just a man well dressed in a white suit, a cocky smile, and an impenetrable air of authority. That wasn't Sam. His Sammy was, or at least had been, too saintly for that to be him.

If he ever lost the kind, humble, profound Sam to that beast, he'd do something unimaginable. Yet it seemed like every day they trudged on, a little bit more of the original Sam was lost.

"Sammy, you shouldn't have changed." The words came out a slight mumble. "You never should have asked me if monsters really exist. I never should have told you. Never should have come back to this lifestyle." He swallowed. He knew it was bullshit. He could see clearly the images of all the people he and Sam had saved. The jinn had shown him that there was a reason, a very real and worthy reason, for what they did. Without them countless lives would have been lost, murdered.

He couldn't help but think that while Sam for all appearances was fine, was having his soul slowly taken from him in the never ending wave of depression. Soul murder. Since Dean's little brother was in trouble, hurting, it should have been up to Dean to do everything in his power to save Sam, but he couldn't. He could barely lift a finger to save him, they were both just so far gone.

He breathed deeply, smelling something faint and light. He felt the sensation again, a blanket, cocoon, a womb of warmth and blissful heat. He shoved away the feeling of contentment, and lifted his harsh eyes to the rearview mirror. An angel looked back at him.

"Glad to see you decided to show your face again." Dean took away his eyes, they roamed over the uneven road. Another frost heave under the tires. Damn, Sam could sleep through anything.

Castiel looked around briefly. "You did not tell me you were moving."

"Did you have any trouble finding us?" Dean gripped the steering wheel tighter and stared ahead. He could feel the cotton shirt he wore drag over the hand prints on his arms. The wound, though as healed as it would ever be, was still a vibrant pink underneath the shirt.

Castiel hesitated before answering. "No." He turned his head and looked out the window. "Where are you heading?" Cas turned his head back and tried to meet Dean's eyes in the mirror. It seemed as though Cas was always striving for eye contact, and while it was usually a polite gesture, it was also unsettling if you weren't used to it. Castiel looked at a person like he knew everything about them, every personal detail, but was not at all their friend.

Dean gave him the brief eye contact that the angel wanted. "New Hampshire, it's a long drive, remote, and cold this time of year." Dean's mouth quirked up in a small smile. "The usual sucky conditions."

Castiel looked away from the mirror, and at the back of Dean's head. He let his eyes look up and down, searching for something physically different that would explain Dean's change in demeanor. While his eyes settled on the nape of Deans neck, he wondered why. Even though Dean said nothing was different, why did something seem to have transformed irreversibly. "You aren't listening to music."

Dean bit his cheek again. It was a habit that resurfaced more and more as he spent time with the angel. He was about to turn to Castiel and give him an excuse, like trying to keep it down so that Sam could sleep. He didn't get a chance to say anything though. Cas vanished, taking the warmth away in the car away with him.

Dean sighed and hung his head for a moment, looking up under his eyelashes to check the abandoned road. 'If Cas hadn't been so fucked up, shoving his face with beef, he would have heard what Famine said. He would have heard about how I was the fucked up one, how I was fucking damaged. The fuck would Cas think then?!' In his pent up fury, Dean had sliced open the inside of his cheek. Blood leaked onto his tongue, the taste of iron.

The image of Sam appeared, mouth and chin stained with red. He knew it was a power rush, and yet he couldn't see how Sam had been persuaded to try it in the first place. "I don't get it Sammy."

"Don't get what?" Dean grit his teeth and turned to look at his little brother. He still had his forehead pressed against the window, but his eyes were open. They blinked a few times before hazily remaining halfway between awake and asleep.

"How long have you been awake?" Dean's voice was gruff, it almost sounded as though it was trying to overcompensate for anytime it had ever sounded weak.

"Maybe all of five seconds," Sam sat up straight and grimaced at the time. "Dean, it's eight o'clock, aren't you starving?!" They had been on the road since nine that morning, and the only reason Sam wasn't starving was because he was blissfully unaware of how empty his stomach was while he slept.

"Yeah, I'll pull over at the next motel."

Sam furrowed his brows and squinted at Dean. "Dude, does it look like we are going to be passing any motels any time soon?"

Dean shrugged, then relented somewhat when Sam continued to look at him with desperate eyes. "Do you have a map?"

Sam grabbed the various packet of maps from the glove department. He flipped through until he found the one for New England. He opened it, the map taking up almost the size of the windshield. "Do you have any idea what street we are on?"

Dean racked his brain for the exit number when he turned off the highway. He told Sam and estimated how many miles he'd been driving down this particular road. Sam found it on the map in a few minutes, and sighed. "Try another half hour on this road, then make a right onto a main road. After another twenty minutes we should be in a city big enough to have a motel of some sort." Sam smirked, "and get this, the city is Winchester, New Hampshire."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, I didn't think we'd be crossing the border so far on the left, so that's why I didn't notice earlier."

"Well it's about freaking time they named something after us!" Dean listened carefully to Sam's chuckle. While it was only a chuckle, and not a full out laugh, the sound was something long missed.

They were quiet for a long time. Sam tried to go back to sleep, but it was impossible. Even extreme boredom couldn't put him back out. It was unfortunately really, that for the first time he had an occasion to sleep for more than four hours he couldn't get sleep to come. "Have you seen Cas lately?"

Dean made the right turn he needed to in order to get onto the main road. This street had a few lights here and there, but other than that it appeared as desolate as the last road. "Why do you ask about Cas?"

Sam made to turn his head towards Dean, but stopped halfway through and returned to stare out the front of the car. "Just wondering. It seems like he's been gone for a while."

Dean felt like scoffing. Cas was self-conscious about his break down with meat, and now it seemed as though Sam was also self-conscious, though trying to be discreet. He was concerned with what Cas thought of him? "He dropped by a few days ago, and while you were asleep. He just wanted to know where we were going." Dean knew he was giving a watered down answer, but at the same time there wasn't much to say. It was obvious to both of them that Cas followed Dean around, talked with Dean, fought for Dean- not Sam.

Sam nodded his head. He shifted slightly, trying to make his long, muscular limbs fit better.

"It's not your fault, Sammy. What happened under Famine, not really your fault." Dean licked his lips, and while he believed in what he was saying, he found it impossible to turn to look Sam in the eyes.

Sam looked over at his big brother. He closed his eyes slowly, and then opened them again, his eyes distant. "It is my fault though, nobody made me drink that blood. Not the first time or the last time.

Dean didn't know if he should agree or disagree. He knew that Sam wouldn't fall for some bull shit about him being innocent, but at the same time he didn't know as all the blame should lie on his only brother's shoulders. "That may be so. You know though, that you never would have relapsed back with the blood if it wasn't for Famine. It would be like sticking a junkie in front of a needle, or a sex addict in the red light district. Famine made you do it because he upped the temptation, made you want it more than you ever would have wanted in the real world."

Dean could feel Sam's eyes looking at him, staring at the side of his head. He was careful not to move, afraid that any twitch would make Sam doubt the resolve he had in his words. "Famine got the best of you, but it also got the best of Cas, so don't even worry about it."

Sam considered this, and then looked away. "Famine might have gotten the best of Cas, but not you. Why is that Dean? Isn't there anything you want, more than anything?"

Dean couldn't help himself. He bit his cheek until it bled again, and then he remembered the way Castiel had stared at him with his intense, cerulean eyes.


Hey, I know this chapter didn't have as much Dean & Cas, but I don't want to rush it. I want to focus on their relationship as it grows, not just thrust them into the bedroom.

Though that will happen.

I really do enjoy reviews, ;D

And on a factual note, there is a town called Winchester in NH, but I searched for hotels and I'm not sure if there are any. Ooops, I tried to use real details, oh well!

-Alika613