"Dean-" Castiel closes the car door, sighing a breath outwards as he buckles, "What are we doing?"
"I'm taking you off grid, Castiel. If the Morriston ring is so apt on coming after you- then it's my job to keep you safe."
He quirks a brow, "Isn't that what witness protection does?"
Dean nods, "More or less… I just- … I can't hand you over to them- I just have this feeling in my gut, you know? The ones you get when you know something's going to go completely wrong or somethin'..."
"So you're saying…" Castiel pauses, "That even if I went with them I'd still have a target painted on my back?"
Dean nods, "Outlined in neon, most definitely."
Castiel lets his head fall back onto his seat, "So that's it, right? I'm coming with you on this- thing, to save my life?"
The soon to be ex-cop goes a little over the speed limit, "Yeah, that's the jist of it."
Castiel snorts. Then it turns into a chuckle, and then a laugh. Soon Castiel is holding his stomach and wiping at his eyes. Dean's a little confused- because nothing funny happened and Castiel should be afraid for his life. But here he is, laughing so hard he's crying in Dean's passenger seat.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing it's just-" he giggles a little more, "I barely even know you yet I fucking trust you- with my life, no less!"
Dean shrugs, "I did save you from the bank."
Castiel goes quiet at that. Dean supposes he hit a nerve, something too raw in Castiel right now- and he feels a little bad for it. He wants to say it's okay, or that he shouldn't have brought last night up- but they're already at Dean's house, so it's too late to apologize.
"Why are we stopping?"
Dean gets out, locking the doors before he shuts his, "I'm going to go inside, get a few things- and then we're going to fucking book it out of here."
His house is nothing much, never really was if Dean thinks about it. Its small, with one bedroom that's dingy. But its his house, it's his home. It's where he goes to sleep and night and wakes in the morning. It's where he burns his coffee and sometimes watches really bad horror films with Sam on his lumpy couch. It's where he reads a book every now and then on the small porch with the front door open as the cars hum past. It's the first place he bought when it came time for his independence and for the start of life on his own. His house fits him like a worn pair of jeans, nice and easy, loose from where it's gotten used to Dean's touch. Now, he has to throw those special jeans away like they were nothing more than a piece of cloth.
Dean walks up to his front door, feeling a little off about it being the last time he's going to pull his keys out and unlock deadbolts and enter. He bites his lower lip, swallowing his emotions back and turning the key, pulling the door open up to his darkened living room. It's just like he left it- shit coffee still in the pot and his dishes in the sink. It's going to spoil, and the cup and plate won't ever be clean again- and it's weird to know that when the realization emerges in his head.
He walks into the back room, getting several bags out and stuffing as much clothes as he can into them. It's just faded t-shirts and worn jeans, not much- but better than nothing because he knows he and Castiel won't have enough resources for a new wardrobe for the both of them. Dean has to remind himself to stop worrying, that it'll all be okay and they'll both be fine.
Half way through filling the bag, he stops. He looks at the sight in front of him. A bag with clothes that will never be in his closet again, a bed that will never lull him to sleep and keep him warm and comfortable as he slowly wakes. It's somber, really.
"Dean, are you okay?"
Dean's head shoots up, Castiel's voice scaring him a little. He gets a little angry that he left the car without permission, but decides it's better that he can actually watch him, "I'm fine, Cas… Don't worry about it…"
He seems to doubt him, eyes lingering on his for a few seconds with a concern Dean's never seen before, but it's gone as quickly as it came with a few seconds and replaced with something calm, "Can I help?"
"Sure…"
"What do I need to do?"
Dean sighs, "Closet, right there beside the bathroom. On the second shelf is some first aid supplies- take this bag and fill it as much as you can. We're not going to be able to go to a doctor's or hospital yet, so we're going to have to wing it from here on until I figure something out."
Castiel takes the bag between his fingertips, "Alright… If you need me to do anything else, just tell me."
The ex-cop nods, going back to shoving the few articles of clothing he owned into the bag. Once it's full, he takes a quick moment to go back into his closet, stomach uneasy to how empty and unused it looks- but he pushes through it. His fingers go up to the box of bullets and other items on the small shelf above the clothing rack. The knife he has nearly grazes his fingertip, it's reflective surface making a small line of light appear on the ceiling as Dean pulls it down. There's one more item, nothing much, but better than anything. It's a jar of coins- one Dean's been piling up for several years. It's leftover from late night coffee shop runs and energy drink purchases- and he's glad he has it.
"I got it packed, Dean." Castiel walks into the room, noticing all the items strewn about, especially the two guns and a knife lying on Dean's blankets, "I'll… I'll get some food together- prepackaged if I can find it… And water bottles..."
Dean nods, watching Castiel leave. He's still in the scrubs, not limping as bad as he was- so there's a plus. Dean sets out a small outfit for him, a faded Star Wars shirt and jeans with a hole in the right knee. He supposes he should change too, and does it quickly. There isn't much time.
Soon he and Cas have all of these things pulled together, and Dean pauses a moment in the living room right before he leaves. He runs over, grabbing a sheet of paper and a pen, scrawling a quick letter to Sammy before he truly leaves Atchison for the last time.
'Dear Sam,
I'm so fucking sorry, Sam. I had to- especially when he told me they were after him. You know how I am, when people tell me they're scared or need help, and I drop everything for them in a split second. I guess that's what happening now- except on a larger scale.
I'm sorry if this ruins our partnership- because I know for fucking certain they aren't gonna let me back into the force after this- but I swear Sammy, I never wanted something like this to happen. Hell, I never thought it would- because it's so damn crazy and big- but it's gotta be done. I can't let them kill Cas- I just can't and I don't know why.
Maybe because I just see him in me, or something. Sounds sappy, I know- but it's true, Sammy. He's trying to do the right thing, and I can't have him murdered or worse over it- especially if I could have done something and kept him alive.
So I'm helping him hide- I don't know how really, or how long this is supposed to be, fuck- I don't have a damn clue. But I know it's going to work, I just really fucking hope in the end.
I'll figure something out- I always do. I'm a half-planned man and I think that's my best trait. Or- it may be my my worst. I hope if I ever do see you again it's not in a pine box or in a jail cell.
Sorry about the car, I have nothing else to resort to…
It was fun being your partner.
-Dean '
Dean shuts the door, knows he's leaving his life behind in just a few steps- but he walks to the car anyways. Cas looks exhausted, head lolling to one side with his eyes fluttering closed as Dean gets in and starts the car.
"This is fucking crazy…" he mumbles, wrapping a small blanket around him.
"Yeah… I know."
Before he falls asleep, he says one last thing in a slurred voice, "Just wake me up in a few hours, I should be okay then… Thank you, Dean."
"You're welcome, Cas."
…
The highway rolls past while Cas sleeps, the radio buzzing faint songs from stations Dean doesn't care to memorize. He's got about five hours left in him of driving, if that- then he needs to sleep and just have some down time and shower. He sighs, grip on the steering wheel tightening as the line of trees blurs past.
"D-Dean? …" Cas mutters, head lifting slowly, "Where are we?"
"A few miles outside of Emporia. We're gonna stop there and rest up."
Castiel nods his head in affirmation and pulls the blanket tighter around his thin frame, eyeing the dashboard like it was the most interesting thing the universe had to offer at the moment.
"Something wrong?" Dean asks.
Cas shakes his head, "No… Why?"
"Just wondering, Cas."
"That's okay, Dean."
Dean nods, focusing back onto the road. He stops at a motel, using some of the cash he pulled out and sets it on the desk. The lady working at it smiles, putting it aside and having Dean sign some type of registry. He puts a fake name, of course- and is about to tell her to have a good day when she beats him to a conversation.
"So- you and your boyfriend traveling?"
Dean's tongue stills in his mouth, "Uhh- what?"
"It's okay to get flustered," she assures, "we're a sexuality accepting business. We don't mind as long as you two keep it down."
Dean wants to puke a little as she winks, the air growing awkward. He doesn't even try to deny it because he knows it won't do him any good. Dean only nods, grabbing the keys off the counter and nearly fumbling with them. He somehow makes it to the door without falling over or tripping.
"I'll keep that in mind…" Dean mumbles, twisting the door knob to exit.
Cas is waiting outside for him, leaning on the rental car with his hair ruffling a little in the breeze, his ankles casually crossed just like his forearms, "You look like you were almost skinned in there."
"You don't even want to know…" Dean sighs, rubbing his forehead with his index finger and thumb, his nerves bundling up and tangling- and he's sure the woman is staring at them from the reception desk.
"That bad or something?" Cas chuckles, a smiling brimming on his lips.
Dean shoots him a look that says, 'trust me, you don't wanna know' and Cas seems to catch onto it.
They enter the room, only one king sized bed lining the wall. Dean groans at the sight, fingers dragging on his skin as Cas swallowed uneasily beside him. They bring some of their stuff in, setting it onto the floor while the sun slowly fell behind the tree line. They get a few things from the diner up the road and walk back to the room.
It's around ten now, the crickets humming outside the window as Bambi starts up. Cas tilts his head towards the screen, eyes narrowing and uncertain as the old music starts playing.
"Uhh-" he sets his burger down, "Dean?"
He tilts his head up, mouth full of beef and cheese, "What, Cas?"
"I- I've never seen this before…" He admits.
"Are you joking? Who hasn't seen Bambi?"
"Me." Cas deadpans.
Dean snorts, "I got that. Only people who weren't raised right haven't seen Bambi!"
Cas nods, "I guess I wasn't raised to the proper standard…"
"Time to fix that, then."
Castiel nodded and pulled his legs up to his chest. His eyes now focused intently on the screen.
Dean watched Castiel's reaction closely. Cas' eyes would widen in surprise, the corners would crinkle when he smiled, brows touching when upset and eyes brimmed with tears when he was sad. Especially when the death scene started.
"Dean.. why? Why did they kill his mother? She was innocent!" He said, looking at Dean like he had all the answers in the world- or at least to Bambi.
"Well, um, the human was hunting and he decided she was going to be his prey." Dean nodded his head once at his explanation. Simple and clean, just like what you would tell a small child when they came to you with thousands of questions about the hard truths of reality.
"A hunter deemed her to be his prey? But she was innocent! Why can someone decide that one thing is prey when they don't deserve to be? Now, her son is abandoned and all alone with nothing while the hunter lives with his killing like it's nothing more than a pile of meat. It-it's not right, Dean." Castiel sniffed. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, applying more force than necessary. As if the more the force given on them means less tears for him to shed.
"Come on, Cas. It's not a big deal- it's Disney for christ's sake!" Dean said, raising his hand to the screen, trying to show Cas how he was overreacting.
"Dean, saying 'it's Disney' doesn't make it okay."
Dean snorted, "It's just a movie, Cas. Don't get your panties in a twist."
"First of all, Dean, I do not wear-" Cas makes air quotes in pure frustration " 'panties', and second, this movie relates to actual life events in my opinion. Every day a being that's more power-filled deems a creature of less significance their prey. They hunt, kill, and hunt again until their prey is dead or they are pleased that they're scared."
"Is this really about the movie, Cas?"
There's a shaky breath from the floor, and Dean realizes it then. It isn't about the movie anymore- it never was. Bambi may be crying out on screen but it's not what Castiel is truly taking about. It's him- it's about how how he's being hunted by the Morriston ring, how they were trying to kill him even though he was an innocent man. The tears made sense, the shaky quality to his words clicked into place- it all did. Cas was terrified, utterly frozen onto the floor with tears still streaming down his face because he was on the run for his fucking life.
"Cas-" Dean slinks down to the floorboards, knees pressing into them uncomfortably, "Oh Cas- I'm fucking stupid."
He just shakes his head, palms near his eyes while they remain closed, "No- it's nothing."
"What you're feeling isn't 'nothing' Cas- you just can't write it off. Just tell me- please." Dean pleads.
Cas looks up, a few more tears streaming down his cheeks, eyes red and puffy as he sobs out his words, "I just can't do this Dean- I fucked up so much… I shouldn't have flagged those damn accounts- none of this would have happened… It's all my fault."
Dean shakes his head, placing his fingers gently onto Cas' wrists, "It's okay, you didn't know-"
"And it doesn't matter, Dean!" Cas snaps, "I killed them! I killed all of them! Those six people in the bank that died- I fucking knew them Dean! When I close my eyes I can still see their limp corpses and know why they are there! WHAT MAKES THIS OKAY, DEAN!? Tell me! I knew every single fucking one of them- and I KILLED THEM DEAN!"
Dean sits on the balls of his heels, "Cas… You didn't kill them, it wasn't your fault."
Cas shakes his head side to side, tears falling and splattering onto the floor, droplets scattering about, "It's all my fault, Dean! They're dead now! Several of them had kids- one of them was about to go to college! They had lives and I fucking ended them!"
"Cas-" Dean's unsure of what to say or do- because what makes sense right now? Castiel is looking at him with tears flowing like a stream, blue irises darting in his gaze and quivering.
He's so broken looking, like he was the one who pulled the trigger or set off the bomb, like it was his fault. Dean felt his stomach lurch at the thought.
"That's not true, Cas. None of it is. I promise you that."
Cas is still shuddering against him, "I- I don't believe y-you…"
Dean pulls him close, rubbing his fingers through his hair and shushing him, "It's alright- it's alright, Cas."
Cas pulls on his shirt, tears soaking through the fabric and dragging on Dean's skin. He feels awful about it- knowing he can't do anything to change what's happened or how Cas is feeling. He wants to, he really does, but he can't. That's what makes it all the more surreal. Dean's used to being the one to save people. Whether it be from an armed robber or a simple thief who was at the end of his ropes, it didn't matter. He's saved Cas before- from the burning building and the gunman- but he hasn't saved Cas from his own demons that are trapped inside and ripping him apart as he sobs against him. Frankly, he's not sure if he can.
Dean pulls them up onto the bed, Cas too busy crying into him to notice anything else- even when the mattress sinks beneath them from their weight. Dean tries to calm Cas, saying gentle words and running a hand soothingly over his back. It's not the first time he's had to do this- especially with some victims who are so utterly lost on scene. Dean does his best to support those who cannot do the same with themselves.
After an hour, Cas seems to quiet himself. He's breathing unevenly into Dean's shirt while his fingers pop with how hard he's gripping his tee. Dean comforts him for just a few more seconds, and then switches into cop mode.
He needs a gun, one that's armed and ready just in case they're discovered- so he grabs the Colt. Cas notices it, puffy eyes widening at it and his mouth opening a little. He's starting to shake while he stares at the engravings on it's side. Dean notices, quickly tucking it into the small of his back.
"Hey- it's okay. I'm just getting it ready just in case…"
"I know it's just… you had it pointed at me once, ready to fire."
Dean remembers it faintly, "Sorry… I promise I'll keep it out of your way as best as I can, then-"
Cas grabs onto his wrist before he can make the gun leave his skin, "No- it's fine, Dean… I shouldn't be doing this when you're trying to protect me… Just do what you have to with it… I'll be fine."
The man finds himself nodding, lowering his arm back into the covers. Cas blinks one more time, eyes drifting close and his breaths growing smaller and even. Dean's a little glad he can keep the Colt- it had been a gift from Sam after they passed the one year mark of being partners. They had gotten a small bonus for some special case they finished together- and as a surprise, Sam bought him the Colt. At first, Dean thought it was a little gaudy. It had engravings in it after all and ivory handles, but as heard about it's Colt title and 1911 year- he's view changed on after he shot it for the first time. It's been with Dean ever since then.
Dean feels a little better when his eyes close a bit.
…
"Dean!"
His head shoots up, hand rushing towards the Colt and whipping it from it's makeshift sheathe, "Cas!"
He's nowhere in the bed, the sheets ruffled around him, "Fuck Cas- where are you!?"
There's a bang from the bathroom, Dean jumps off the bed and somehow runs over there in seconds. The door's locked, and Dean can hear Cas in there with whoever broke in. Dean readies himself, shifting his weight and kicking the door in. The sudden light of the open door floods his eyes.
Castiel is being held by some crazed man- going by the scabs and lines on his face, Dean recognizes him as a meth addict, so it equals Morriston- with a knife pressed against the skin of Cas' throat. Dean grits his teeth, fingers tightening on his gun. Cas sort of chokes at the angle his throat his being held at- and Dean can tell from right there it's going to bruise later.
"Let him go." Dean calmly orders, eyes connecting with Castiel's for a moment before going back to the man about to kill him.
"Or what? You'll shoot me?" his laugh sounds more like a constricted wheeze, "I'm shocked- go ahead and do it- that won't spare your little fuck buddy from what's comin' to him!"
Cas closes his eyes, biting his lower lip as the blade starts to pull back- but Dean's faster than this druggie. His finger pulls back the trigger in a practiced ease, the shot goes off. Cas cries out as the shot vibrates on the walls and rings in their ears. It's all Dean can hear as he stumbles over to Cas to pick him up.
There's blood everywhere, brain bits spattered all over amongst the crimson dripping downwards. His skull is practically destroyed- considering it's a forty-five caliber gun. Cas looks up to Dean- hands trembling as a few drops of blood trickle down his face. Dean knows Cas is probably hearing nothing but the ringing now, so he quickly hurries up and grabs him. Attempting to use the piercing sound as a slight distraction.
There's not much time, and with the loss of their hearing it makes it dire for the both of them. He practically shoves Cas into the front seat- pulling the car into drive and gunning it out of there. Dean's sure he's speeding, sure that Cas is on the verge of some breakdown from the look on his face as they speed off.
Dean wants to stop, wants to pull over and just let his stomach empty itself- because he just killed a man. Sure, not the best one out of the lot, but still. It doesn't matter if he was a dick, it matters that he's dead with a bullet from Dean's Colt lodged in the remnants of his skull and brain tissue. It's never easy for Dean to take a life, especially when he didn't want to- and that's usually always. Right now there's a cooling body on those bathroom tiles and it's because of him.
"Dean-"
His head whips to the man beside him, there's still blood coating his face and he's staring at Dean- it's a miracle their hearing is back by now, "What Cas?"
"You've been speeding for six hours, I think you can give your lead foot a little rest off the pedal."
Dean almost slams on the breaks at those words, six hours? How could six hours be so fast? Last time Dean checked seconds composed minutes, and those composed the hours- so how in the fuck did so much time pass without him noticing?
"Just pull up over here to this motel," the blood on Cas' face isn't wet anymore, long since dry and cracked, "we can stop and you can rest for a bit- I'm going to drive tomorrow, okay?" Castiel cautiously asks, lightly touching Deans hand with the pads of his fingers.
Dean just nods, because he still isn't himself right now- because all he does when he blinks his eyes closed is see that damn tiled bathroom and the body lying there in blood- his finger pulling of the trigger with his barrell smoking. If this is anything like what Cas is dealing with then he sorry for the man. Its all blood and gun shots. No happy memories if he even tries. No cold sweet tea in the heat of summer on the porch, no smiling faces, all red splatters and broken skulls. It's still too fresh, fresh enough that he vomits on the way to the their hotel room. So fresh that he can't hold himself up and castiel has to be the one to dos so.
Dean's so shaken that Cas has to help him into the shower, waiting outside while Dean really just sits under the shower head. Letting the hot water wash down his neck and back. Hoping it could wash the days events away. When Castiel pulls back the curtain there's still blood running off of Dean into the drain and soaking into his gray boxers.
Cas sighs, stripping himself down to his own black ones- Dean looking towards the brown liquid swirling past him on the bottom of the tub. Cas gets in behind him, gathering some soap onto his hands and lathering Dean's hair gently. The ex-cop closes his eyes to the ginger drag of the man's fingertips on his scalp, soothing circles into his hair with shampoo.
Dean almost makes a whine-like sound when Cas starts washing out the soap instead of rubbing, but he keeps himself quiet- mostly because he sees how much red is leaving his skin as it mixes with the soap forming crimson bubbles and suds.
"I'm going to wash a bit of your skin-" there's a click of a bottle, "but nothing too awkward. Just relax and take deep breaths, I'm here."
Dean leans into Cas' touch, his fingers gently rubbing away all of the dirt and blood from Dean's skin with small, circular motions. Dean rests himself against Cas, the hands on his shoulders soothing him as all the fatigue from the past couple of hours leaves him just like the blood does- the image of the dead man flowing with it into the drain. Dean closes his eyes, the feeling of warm skin against his own while Cas hums somthing, his hands undoing the tension Dean had pent up in his shoulders.
"Just relax, I've got you." Cas says gently, Dean starts to fall asleep, his breathing matching Castiel's in the shower, steam rolling about as the soap slicks down and clears his uneasiness and sink.
Dean nearly falls asleep right there, but Cas stops the water about ten minutes later- the loss of the warm spray causing Dean to jolt. The cold bathroom air pricks his skin, his fine hair sticking up from goosebumps as he slowly awakens.
Cas chuckles, "Nice to see you're up. Come on, let's go to bed."
Dean mumbles something unintelligible as he shuffles out of the tub. Cas just keeps giggling at him, but gives him a towel and leaves the bathroom. Dean supports some of his weight on the bathroom sink, the counter cold against his palms as he looks into the steamed mirror.
There's no sign of blood or bits of that man's brain lodging itself on him, in fact- there's no sign it happened at all. It's like Dean never shot that man dead on those bathroom tiles all those miles back- like he never pulled the trigger before he could slice open Cas' throat. His arms shake a little, but it's easier to handle than before. Because Cas is there, Cas needs him. What kind of protector is he if he can let that happen or mentally buckle under the weight of what he agreed to do?
He shucks off his wet boxers, noticing there's nothing else in the bathroom to wear. Fuck- seems like he's going to have to use his towel so he can go run and get some clothing. He steps out, holding the dampened white fluff to his hip as he exits the bathroom with steam flowing behind him.
"Dean!"
His eyes snap to attention, finding Cas' eyes glaring at him. He's got nothing on but a balled pair of boxers over his- well, you know. Dean coughs awkwardly, sure that his blush is mixing in with the flushed skin from the hot shower as he grabs his bag and hurries away.
Dean pulls a black t-shirt over his skin, the action feeling weird considering the bathroom is still the consistency of a cloud- making the fabric snag and leech onto him uncomfortably. Dean's a little glad that Cas got them a room with two beds, because last night was too close for comfort for him. He's wondering about how in the hell someone was able to snag him away while Dean was right fucking there. He bites his lower lip, noticing the Colt sitting on the counter.
This time, Dean walks out of the bathroom without Cas being practically naked and clothes on himself, settling down on the mattress closest to the door and closing his eyes. They only snap open when he feels it dip on the other side as Cas clambers onto the mattress with him. The ex-cop tilts his head, wondering why in the world Cas is doing something like this, but is only silenced when he sees the food in Castiel's hands.
"I got it while you finished changing. It was just across the street-"
"Don't do anything like that again Cas- I understand if you were trying to help or be nice, but I have to know where you're going or at, okay?"
His eyes falter a little, looking down at the bag of fast food as if it were a mistake, "I understand… I'm sorry Dean, I won't do it again…"
"Hey-" Cas' head snaps up, "don't feel bad, you weren't trying to do anything wrong. I just want to make sure you're okay and I'm there just in case anything went south… Why did you go anyways? I'm sure we could have walked over when I was done."
"I wanted to make up for earlier, you know? I saw how far you'd go for me and I guess… I guess I'm trying to fix that. I got scared for a while you weren't going to bounce back or something, but I'm the most thankful man on the world right now you did. This is sort of… a thank you- a small, unhealthy thank you."
Dean shrugs, "I appreciate it- but I've had to kill people before, Cas. It's part- well, it was part of my job before all this happened. Don't feel like you owe me anything either, because you don't."
Cas smiles, "You're a charming one, aren't you?"
"I try my best."
They start laughing, it ringing throughout the motel room. Its nice. It's as if the morning never happened, that Dean didn't commit murder, or that the whole Bambi fiasco was nothing more than Disney heartbreak. It's peaceful, quaint, as if the reason they were there was a road-trip and not running from the Morriston ring who was looming over them every second of the day and night. Soon after they finished the food- which Dean labeled as the best heart-attack-in-waiting ever on a bun- the fatigue settles in their bones as they slowly drift away into sleep.
There's two beds- but only one winds up being used.
