Disclaimer: see chapter one
Chapter Two
"One, one-thousand. Two, one-thousand. Three, one-thousand. Four..." Dean counted out thirty compressions and checked Castiel for a pulse. When he found none, he murmured, "This isn't working...we need to kick-start his heart somehow."
"Dean, we don't have anything like that," Sam retorted with a sharp look. Dean looked up to snap something back in response, but paused at the thoughtful look that stole over his brother's face. "You can convert a taser, right?" Sam asked suddenly.
Dean stared at him for a moment, then smiled slightly. "You'd better bet I can." He and his brother exchanged a long glance, and with a nod Dean said simply, "Hurry."
Dean continued with compressions while Sam left to gather what they needed. Three sets of compressions later he heard the crinkle of fabric, and glanced up to see Sam drop the duffel bag they brought along and sort through its contents until he extracted one of the tasers they hadn't used since Dean's little mishap during the Rawhead hunt.
"I'll take over here," Sam said, trading places as he shoved Dean toward the taser to get to work.
Dean checked his watch. It had been over seven minutes since they first checked Castiel's breathing. He gritted his teeth and reached for the taser. It didn't take much—not as much as the walkman-to-EMF transition—just a tweak of the output and the shedding of the casing around the wires so he had something to touch to Castiel's skin to emit the charge. It took a grand total of 107 seconds, and then another 22 for Dean to shuffle through the med kit and pull free a strip of medical tape. He swept Sam's hands away and readied the makeshift defibrillator, taping the exposed metal wires to the area over Castiel's heart.
"Okay. We're starting low," Dean said as he twisted the dial on the machine to the appropriate wattage. "Stand clear." Bobby and Sam both separated themselves from Castiel, and Dean winced as he flipped the switch.
Fire erupted in the core of his chest, licking out from his heart in a burst of heat and pain. Dean clamped down hard on his lower lip to keep from releasing the string of curses that danced over his tongue, but he couldn't keep from flinching and Sam saw. Dean snapped the machine off, and nearly doubled over when he leaned forward to check Castiel's vitals. Nothing.
Dean shoved the machine at Sam, who frowned at him. "Can't do that and feel this too," he explained breathlessly, and Sam's frown twisted with severe displeasure. "Don't even, Sam. Just do this."
Sam opened his mouth to protest, then glared at the dark look that stole over Dean's expression. "Fine," he grumbled and glanced to Bobby. "Upping the voltage, and...clear."
This time, the burst of electricity that echoed through to Dean sent Castiel's body arching upward, and Dean could barely restrain himself from pushing the ex-angel flat again. Fortunately, the explosion in his chest kept him from actually being able to act on that urge and he gritted his teeth as the feeling of lightning buzzed through him in painful waves.
Dean's hand curled around his coat over his heart, and Sam gave him another look. This time, the look was coupled with Bobby's glare and Dean fixed them with his very best I'm fine, just do as I say gaze. He wouldn't give up on Cas. He wouldn't give up on his best friend. He had to kick Cas in the teeth for a few things, yeah, but then he had to teach him some human things like good decision-making. None of that got to happen if Cas kicked it here. "Keep going, Sam," he gritted out between clenched teeth.
"Dean, this isn't working and you're obviously still in pain..." Sam argued feebly.
Before Dean could cut him off, Bobby spoke up, "He wouldn't want you to kill yourself trying to save his life, son. Let it go. He's gone."
And just like that the frenzy left Bobby and Sam, and took residence in the wild slamming of Dean's heart as he realized that they were giving up. "No," Dean growled, and reached to rip the tape and wire from Castiel's chest. "No, you stupid sonuvabitch! You are not allowed to do this!" He bunched up his hands into fists and slammed them down into Castiel's chest. The former-angel's body jerked, and stilled. "Damn it, Cas! You are not giving up! You hear?" With each sharp growl, Dean swung a fist down into Castiel's chest again. The resounding thud and ache in his own chest were almost satisfying in their intensity. At least he still had this. At least he still felt Cas, somehow.
Dean hit Castiel one last time in the chest then meant to throw a punch to his face just for pure gratification—he couldn't believe Cas had the nerve to die when Dean tried so hard to get to him so he could force the idiot to understand that he wasn't going to abandon him. Sam caught him by the fists, chastising, "Dean! That's enough!"
Dean shook him off with a new intention now. He folded his hands together and pressed hard against Castiel's still heart. "One, one-thousand. Two, one-thousand. Three—dammit, Cas, help me out here—Six, one-thousand. Seven, one-thousand. Eight..." He counted through to thirty compressions, and glanced up to Sam and Bobby's disbelieving eyes. Screw them. He didn't want to deal with it right now. Cas was not allowed to die on him. Dean leaned down, thumping Castiel in the chest once more for comfort's take, and breathed for him. One breath. C'mon, Cas. Two breaths.
A low keening sound erupted from deep within Castiel's throat, and Dean stilled. Then, Castiel arched up, his entire body tensing and spasming suddenly as he choked, coughing as his body worked feverishly to pull in the oxygen it so desperately craved. He fell flat and still again, and Dean held his breath for a long moment as he rolled him onto his side into the recovery position, reaching for his wrist to check his pulse. Dean felt something catch in his throat and his eyes burned, but he determinedly kept the tears at bay. He wasn't going to cry like a frigging girl. "C'mon, Cas," he encouraged again.
And then Castiel's chest rose.
Dean stared for a moment, not daring to breathe on his own as the strange sensation like breaking the surface of water after sinking to the bottom of a lake stole over him through the connection he shared with Castiel. Then it stilled, and Dean watched in mute fascination as, again, Castiel's chest moved and his lips parted on the intake of a slight breath.
Dean rushed forward, pulling Castiel up against him and pressing his fingers to the artery at Castiel's throat. He breathed a sigh of relief, oh, yes.
"He's breathing...and he has a pulse." He looked up, feeling relief warming him from the inside out. Sam and Bobby stared back at him, eyes wide with shock. Sam smiled first, tremulous in his relief. Bobby's mouth relaxed, the tightness around his eyes smoothing. Dean grinned at them both for a moment, savoring the moment, when he realized that they now had another problem. Cas was cold.
Dean stared at Castiel briefly, then stripped off his jacket. He ignored the chill that lingered on his own bared forarms as he lifted the ex-angel and pulled the jacket over his shoulders. Dean frowned at the white button-down closed around the hilt of a knife, easing it open to find the source of all the blood. He was surprised when he only saw one stab wound on Castiel's chest, oozing blood slowly which Dean knew was partially due to the hypothermia.
"Sam, get started on that," Dean commanded gruffly, nodding toward the wound. "Don't want it opening up and bleeding the second we get him warm."
Dean pulled Cas close around the waist, Cas' side to his chest. Normally he'd be squirming in discomfort by now, put off by the proximity and the general chick-flick feel of this, but Castiel was hypothermic and some of the first lessons John Winchester taught his sons were how to survive in situations like this. Dean rubbed warmth into Cas' back and shoulder while Sam taped down a square of gauze over Cas' stab wound to put pressure on it until they could get him to a doctor.
"Dean, these look..." Sam started to say.
Dean nodded. "Yeah, Crowley really did a number on him."
"Some of them are already scarred over," Bobby pointed out. "Why would Crowley have healed them?"
"To keep him from bleeding out," Dean explained. "It's no fun if your playmate dies before you get what you want out of 'em." A short, awkward silence descended as Bobby and Sam watched Dean uncomfortably. No one wanted to think about Dean's experience with torture. "We're gonna need to get someone to look at these to make sure there's no long-term damage."
Bobby stood a few feet away, talking quickly and quietly into his cell phone. Dean was pretty sure he was trying to find Cas a doctor who understood the nature of their situation and could get to them quickly.
Bobby snapped his cell phone closed and turned to them. "We need to get him warm and back to Sioux Falls. Doc's gonna meet us there to take another look at him."
"What about Crowley?" Sam asked Dean. And yeah, Dean would love to do this thing Winchester-style and go hunt down the sonuvabitch. But right now?
"Let's get Cas out of here," he responded, glancing up to see Sam nod and smile slightly.
"I'll take his legs," Sam volunteered, and between the two of them they gathered Castiel up carefully and hoisted him from the operating table to the cradle of their arms. Bobby reached under Cas' back to steady the ex-angel as he made a low sound of discomfort, and the ease of pressure on his chest smoothed out the lines on Castiel's face. They got Castiel out of the prison slowly, and as soon as they made their way through the barrier it collapsed behind them as though it were never there. Dean took a quick moment to glance over his shoulder, and scowled to himself. He was so going to find Crowley and roast him alive later.
He and Sam managed, somewhat breathlessly, to maneuver Castiel through the woods and then into the backseat of the Impala. Bobby fetched a blanket out of the truck to bunch it under Cas' side, anchoring him to keep the pressure off his wounded chest. This time, Dean drove and Bobby led.
Dean had never been so thankful for the low throb of discomfort in his ribcage.
By the time they reached Sioux Falls and pulled into the the scrapyard, Castiel's skin appeared lightly flushed. Dean was pretty pleased with that, though he spent the last hundred miles or so sweating and having to smell the utterly-diabolical odor of B.O. courtesy of Sam Winchester. Dean and Sam scrambled out of the Impala and the dusty, hot air felt like the finest air conditioning to them. Dean finally noticed the strange van, straight out of the 80's, that was parked by Bobby's house. He frowned thoughtfully at it for a moment as Bobby sauntered over.
Eva swung the driver's door open and hopped down from the van, and Dean's eyes popped open wide. Dr. Robert followed her from the passenger's side of the vehicle, smiling and waving at Dean over Bobby's shoulder. Dean hadn't seen Eva and Dr. Robert since the incident with Death. He was suddenly glad for Bobby's quick thinking, knowing that Dr. Robert would take care of Castiel. Between him and Sam, they managed to get Castiel out of the Impala and quickly into Bobby's study, depositing him carefully onto the couch there.
Dr. Robert and Eva were right behind them with Bobby. "Dean Winchester!" Dr. Robert greeted, reaching up to pat Dean on the cheek once. He also gestured to Sam, who ducked automatically with a confused frown. When Dr. Robert musses Sam's floppy hair, Dean smirked as his little brother glowered. "Sammy too! Good to see you, boys. Now, where is my patient?"
Dr. Robert moved to Castiel's side, frowning at the ex-angel thoughtfully. "Oh. Oh, dear. Eva, take Dean and go get my things."
Eva scowled at Dr. Robert's back, and glared at Dean before turning to do as she was told. Dean grinned and winked at Sam before he followed her. Cas was in good hands now. He could afford to have some fun.
Dean took the few moments he and Eva had alone together to flirt shamelessly because, really? He was Dean Winchester, and she was the only woman within the immediate vicinity. They were gathering supplies from the weird lime green van. (Dean really hated vintage vans. They creeped him out.) While Eva piled stuff into his arms, Dean caught her eye with a wink and said, "So, it's been awhile. You're looking really good."
Eva rolled her eyes, ignored anything else he said until they got back inside.
After that she was busy helping Dr. Robert tend to Cas so Dean left her alone. Cas had two fractured ribs, the stab wound missed all vital organs but required some twenty stitches, and the burns from the taser-turned-defibrillator needed salve; the rest had already healed and left small scars over Castiel's body that Dr. Robert fretted over the entire time. When Dr. Robert noticed bruises spreading over Castiel's chest, he glanced aside to Dean and Sam. "CPR?"
"And a stubborn Winchester refusing to give up on it," Sam retorted, earning a glare from Dean.
Dr. Robert nodded and continued his exam. "Responsive to tests, no sign of serious trauma to the brain," Dr. Robert observed. "Probably have the hypothermia to thank for that, shouldn't be any brain damage..."
Dean watched in interest after that; it never occurred to him to check Cas for any injury to his brain. And because of this, he noticed at once that while Eva was assisting Dr. Robert, she brushed Castiel's bangs off his forehead tenderly.
Dean frowned and, in a way that was so typical of Cas he started to worry about this weird connection they were rocking, tilted his head to the side. Sam elbowed him and dragged him away from the study so they could leave Dr. Robert to work in peace. Dean shoved Sam in return and told him, "Dude, go take a shower. Sheesh."
Castiel was bundled up when they were allowed back in to see him, but Dr. Robert wanted to wait around until Cas woke up and he could observe him for a few hours before he and Eva left. Bobby commanded Dean and Sam to get the ex-angel up to the guest room so that he could be a little more comfortable, so they did. Eva followed and sat with Castiel, continuing to smooth his bangs from his forehead as though she was trying to soothe him. Dean thought to tease, "Oh, so you like the nerdy angelic type more, huh?"
Eva shot him a dirty look. "What is it to you?"
Dean raised both palms placatingly. "Just curious." He smiled, but it withered under the wrath in her glare. Shifting his weight awkwardly, Dean elected to leave Cas to Eva's capable hands and come back later. He hoped Cas wasn't taken advantage of in the meantime, but Eva was kind of shifty and he wasn't sure what to expect out of her.
Castiel gained consiousness (sort of) a few hours later. Dr. Robert and Dean were sitting with him when his eyelashes fluttered, and a shock of blue peered through. Dean noticed first, seeing Cas' fingers twitch reflexively around the bedsheets he gripped. He motioned to Dr. Robert, and leaned over Cas so they were eye-to-eye.
"Hey, man. How're you feeling?"
Castiel squinted at him, eyes blinking furiously. A moment later, his expression relaxed and he muttered, "Dean."
Dean grinned. "Yeah, Cas. I'm right here."
Castiel stared at him and yeah, it was one of those familiar soul-searching ones. Dean tried to smile reassuringly. Cas sighed, and seemed to sag back into sleep, mumbling, "Good."
Dean looked up at Dr. Robert, who nodded in satisfaction. "He'll be all right with rest." Dean smiled because yeah, he could live with that.
After Dr. Robert left, it took a few days for Castiel to make another appearance into the Land of the Living. Dean was sitting with him again, feet kicked up onto the bed as he sat in a chair and idly flipped through a car magazine, when Castiel made a rumbling sound and his eyes suddenly popped open. Dean sat up at once, as Castiel looked over to meet his gaze. Very eloquently, the ex-angel said, "Ouch."
Dean blinked in surprise, then chuckled. "Yeah, I most definitely second that. You look like crap, dude."
Castiel glared at him for a moment, then sighed. The melancholy sound melted the smirk off Dean's face. "Where was I?" Castiel inquired.
"According to Sammy, you were kinda in Limbo," Dean said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "You might want to ask him to explain that, though. You know how I am with Geekinese." Castiel huffed quietly, a soft spurt of laughter that caught Dean off guard for a minute. He smiled and asked again, "How you feeling?"
Castiel took a long moment to consider how to respond. "Sore. Irritated. Helpless. Itchy."
Dean frowned at that little slipped helpless, but otherwise it was not an unexpected response. "Okay. Need anything?"
"I would very much like a glass of water, please," Castiel responded.
Dean nodded and told Cas he'd be right back. He reported the update to Sam and Bobby, and Sam volunteered to take the water up. At Dean's questioning look, he explained sheepishly, "I'd like a minute to talk to him." Dean watched his brother squirm for a minute in silence, then gave a nod. Sam fetched the glass of water, and took it with him upstairs to Cas' room. It was a long time before Sam came back.
Castiel was surprised when he saw Sam enter the guest room in Dean's stead. It must have shown in his expression because Sam offered him a half-apologetic smile as he brought the glass of water over and assisted Castiel into a semi-upright position long enough for Castiel to take a few sips. "Not too much too fast," Sam warned him, taking the glass away. "You don't want to make yourself sick."
Castiel nodded his thanks, and let Sam fuss over him for a few minutes as the young hunter settled him back against the pillows and pulled the covers up and over his body. Sam sat by the bed. A moment of awkward silence passed, and Castiel opened his mouth just as Sam spurted, "So I wanted to apologize." Castiel froze, and blinked. Sam stared back, then chuckled. "Sorry. I just need to get this out really quick, then you can go. Okay?"
"Of course, Sam," Castiel croaked and swallowed against his still-dry throat. Sam had said to drink water slowly, so he didn't reach for the water on the bedside table though he felt parched.
Sam fidgeted for a minute, and then started. "Okay, I realize after all this that I might have been a bit harsh with you a few times. I mean, I remember soulless-me threatening to kill you and then there was the time with the holy oil and I said..." He trailed off, glanced away, then cleared his throat to meet Castiel's gaze again. "I realize we kinda didn't give you the opportunity to really explain yourself. I know it was hypocritical of us to ream you out for working with Crowley when we were doing the same, and I know I said and did some things that...may not have seemed consistent with how I acted toward you. Especially, y'know, stabbing you in the back. Literally." He laughed again, forced and stilted. "So, I just wanted to, you know. Say that I'm sorry for all that."
Castiel stared at Sam for a few minutes before Sam said pointedly, "It's uh... You can go now."
"Oh. Thank you, Sam." Castiel took a deep breath, winced when it puts the wrong pressure on his chest, and said while staring at his bedspread, "You have nothing to apologize for. I understand that my actions were...irresponsible and underhanded. I thought that I was simply making the wrong choices for the right reasons." He met Sam's gaze, earnest and wounded. "I also wanted to apologize, Sam, for tearing down your wall. I...it was an act of cruelty, I understand that now. I thought then that it would simply keep you and Dean out of danger, I never thought about the consequences it would have for you."
"Well, actually." Sam gave him a strange look. "I really don't want you to apologize for that, Cas. I needed to know and I would have, either by your hand or my own. But, yeah. Apology accepted." He paused and shifted his feet, then half-stood to pull his chair closer to Cas' side. "Cas, I just need to ask—"
"I would never have left you without a soul if I had known what happened," Castiel said before Sam could finish. "It...I was distracted, pulling you and Adam out of the Cage while Michael and Lucifer..." He shuddered, felt an old ache in his shoulders. He shook his head slowly. "I sincerely apologize, Sam, for my mistake."
"No, no," Sam waved him off. "That was all I needed to know. Thanks, Cas."
It was a strange feeling that took over Castiel then. He thought he felt...lighter. He thought it might be relief.
Nearly a week passed, and Castiel healed enough to walk on his own well enough, except that he ached if he overexerted himself. Castiel felt more pain than he let on, but Dean seemed to see right through him, if the lingering looks the hunter directed at Castiel were any indication. Castiel knew the bond was at fault for forcing them to share emotional and physical sensations, and it made him uneasy.
Castiel was sitting in bed in the guest room when he finally saw it. Sometime during the night, Dean had to have brought it in and draped it over the chair positioned by Castiel's bed. Castiel felt every muscle in his body tighten, and he welcomed the pain that it engendered as it distracted him from the heat that built behind his eyes and the strange feeling in his stomach that tightened a knot in his throat as he reached out and ran his fingers over the trench coat.
The heat built to a burning, and Castiel bit his lower lip hard to distract himself from it.
It wasn't that the coat held any real intrinsic value. Castiel thought not, anyway. It was just that, he had that coat with him through everything. When he had first claimed Jimmy Novak's body as his vessel, when he rebelled against Heaven under the say-so of Dean, when he helped to stop the Apocalypse before Michael and Lucifer got hold of their vessels, when he fought a war against his brothers in Heaven to protect the Earth he had come to love, when he had won that war and released millions of souls from within him.
That coat had been witness to all of Castiel's trials and all his victories. It had borne witness to parts of him he had never put much thought to, not as an angel and especially not now that he was human enough to feel so obtusely.
Castiel knew that he should not feel so strongly for material possessions, but the coat was his and he was happy to see it.
Dean made his way up the stairs, going slower than usual because he needed to think before he actually reached Cas. He was feeling the urge to check up on the ex-angel. Castiel had been really quiet, and Dean knew what happened when Cas got quiet. Thinking in general wasn't going to help Cas, and it certainly wouldn't help Dean who could feel everything Castiel did. Dean meant to talk to Castiel about some of that jumbled-up mess in his head, as well as some of the things they hadn't been able to say to one another so far. He pondered the last few days while Crowley had Castiel. He already had Bobby putting feelers out, finding what he could about the demon's whereabouts. What Dean was more concerned about was the feelings that he had been perceiving through the weird connection he had with Cas.
He reached Cas' door, intent on greeting his friend with some sort of teasing jibe, and froze when he saw Castiel's fingers brushing over the hem of the trench coat. For some reason, the sight made Dean's stomach knot up. He kept hearing Castiel's voice, dull and eerily calm, repeat in his head, You aren't my family, Dean. I have no family.Castiel had rejected the idea that he was part of their family then, and Dean understood his reasons a little better now. That didn't stop him from feeling frustrated with the ex-angel for giving up on the idea so easily, especially considering what Dean had tried to tell him before Castiel went all Cthulu-God. Dean knew it was going to be an effort, but he wanted to help Cas understand, somehow.
Dean cleared his throat pointedly, and Castiel jumped and pulled his hand back to his lap as he looked up to meet Dean's gaze. Dean smirked a little, jerking his chin toward the trench coat. "Thought you might miss that."
Castiel nodded. "Yes. Thank you." Castiel let his gaze drift back to the trench coat, and Dean entered the room fully, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
"That was sorta how I knew something was up when I got to the hospital," Dean confessed. "You wouldn't exactly leave it behind if you decided to run away from home." Dean gave Castiel a pointed look as he said this, and Castiel firmly kept his gaze focused on the trench coat. "So what gives, Cas? You were planning on leaving the hospital?" He was glad that he didn't have to explain how he knew all that. Castiel glanced up at him, his expression pinched.
"I was...I didn't think..."
"Right. You didn't think. You're developing a pattern here, Cas." Dean thought maybe he should have kept the bite out of his voice, because suddenly Cas was glaring at him.
"I didn't think, based on what I have been feeling from you and Sam and Bobby, that you wanted me around any longer," Castiel returned impatiently.
"That why you were planning on giving up when Crowley had you?" Dean asked. Castiel was silent, and Dean threw up his hands. "God, Cas! As if a year's worth of lies hasn't been enough, now I gotta worry about you being a flight risk too?" Dean didn't want to limit Castiel's sins to wanting to leave their broken little family unit, but he didn't want to say that Castiel was suicidal either. He didn't want to think about what part he may have had in Castiel being this way. And Dean really didn't want to think about what it meant that Castiel was finally admitting to being able to feel everything that Dean had been feeling. Holy crap.
Castiel was quiet even for him. Dean stared at him, waiting for a rebuttal of some sort, then squared his shoulders. Dean thought maybe they were both feeling a little anxious, a little uneasy. Castiel was typically stoic and reserved. Hell, it took him months of knowing Dean before he would even admit (after swearing Dean to secrecy) that he felt doubt. So yeah, Dean was pretty sure neither of them liked this bond thing that was allowing them full access to each other's thoughts and feelings. Crap. Dean was living a chick-flick just by thinking. He forced a damper on that, shoving everything to one corner of his head so he could deal with it, and Castiel being able to see all of it, later.
"Dude, this is so screwed up," Dean grumbled to himself. Castiel nodded as if in agreement, but was now studying Dean intently, a frown furrowing his brow. Dean stared back, and for a second it was just like old times. But then Castiel scowled and turned his attention right back to the trench coat. Dean frowned at him, and shifted uncomfortably. He remembered that he made a promise to talk things through with Castiel, to address that bad water under the bridge. He was about to speak when he heard the sound of Sam thundering up the stairs.
"Dean, hey!" Sam leaned in the doorway looking pleased with himself which could only mean— "I think I found what we were looking for," Sam smirked. "Wanna come downstairs and summon a demon?"
Dean grinned at Sam, "That sounds great. Cas?" When he glanced to Castiel, the ex-angel seemed hesitant to meet his gaze. Dean ignored that for the time being, thinking maybe Castiel was feeling just as awkward about their situation as he was, and said instead, "You coming with?" There was a pause, and Castiel nodded. He climbed to his feet slowly, and followed as Dean and Sam made their way from the room. Dean glanced back in time to see Castiel hesitate and touch the trench coat one last time, as though wondering whether or not to don it like familiar old armor. After a moment, Castiel merely picked the coat up and tucked it over his arm instead of wearing it. Dean didn't know why it unnerved him.
The spell was kind of simple, a small variation to some of the summonings they'd used on demons before. This one was simply designed to ensare the demon inside the Devil's Trap they set up. Either way, it surprised Dean how quickly they had a very unimpressed Crowley stuck inside the circle painted on Bobby's floor. Crowley glanced over the occupants of the room with one cocked eyebrow, smirking when his eyes fell on Cas who leaned against the wall.
"So the angel survived," Crowley observed, then threw up a hand. "Ah! Excuse me, ex-angel. And ex-god." He smiled charmingly at Castiel, then directed his attention to the others. "Something I can do for you boys? Have a bit of a schedule to keep, here."
"What the hell did you do to me and Cas?" Dean demanded at once, and Crowley chuckled.
"I take it darling Cas has been too busy bleeding and feeling sore to explain the soul bond between you lovely ducklings," Crowley surmised. "Gotta say, after all the times he needed you gentlemen before, I was a little surprised by your vigilant search."
Dean glanced at Castiel who closed his eyes a moment, then glanced at Dean. "Profound bond," he said pointedly, ignoring the second half of Crowley's words.
Crowley watched the exchange, and continued. "When Wingsy here cradled your soul and pulled it up from the Pit, a bond was created between soul and Grace. You might consider it a signature of a guardian angel and his charge," Crowley explained, eyes directed to Dean's shoulder. Dean glanced down at the handprint hidden under a black t-shirt. "Doesn't take too much to find out the source of a bond, and even if the angel in question is Fallen the bond can be activated to its full potential. Human gets the scar, angel gets the mark on his Grace."
"Wow, that was kinda easy," Sam observed.
"Oh, as soon as I get out of here, things will get a bit harder for you boys," Crowley promised, his mouth curling and betraying the agitation he hid so carefully. He shifted, taking a deep breath. "And how are you boys, by the way?" he asked Dean. "Still feeling those funny little twin tingles? Bet if I'd cut off Cas' arm, you'd feel the stump."
"Yeah, and what's that all about? 'Cause exchanging feelings? So not my bag," Dean grumbled.
Crowley sighed, as if Dean was some unpleasant insect that just flew onto his Armani suit. "The bond's full potential, Winchester, means you and Blue Eyes get to play Zan and Jayna."
"I don't under—" Castiel started, and Dean cut him off with a sharp gesture.
"I'll explain it later," he said.
"Anyway," Crowley interrupted, mouth twisting maliciously, "as long as you carry that shred of Grace in you, you would feel something until Cassy-boy was rotted away to nothing more than ash and dust. And even then you might feel a niggling little hole somewhere." Crowley leered at Dean. "Nice work, by the way, thinking of a defibrillator and locking lips with your little bosom buddy? I had hoped you might just give up, but...that was certainly a fun show."
Feeling heat flood his face, Dean spat, "Those were desperate measures you son of a—"
"Desperate for something, indeed," Crowley smirked and Dean ignored the blank confused look on Castiel's face and moved in on the smug demon hoping to break his face, but Sam interrupted, "You knew the bond between Dean and Cas would let them share pain?"
"General theory," Crowley said flippantly, gesturing with one hand. "During my time with the late All-Mother, I discovered a few interesting treats." Dean pulled an impatient face as he turned a glare on Castiel. The ex-angel wouldn't meet his gaze. Crowley continued, "A few of the monsters I had on hand felt everything I tried on dear old Evie. And all those damned eggs." Crowley's nose wrinkled in disgust and he mock-shivered. Dean rolled his eyes. "I assume you can figure out from there how your new joined hips are going to sway," Crowley said then. "So I should be free to go?"
Dean gave him a look of blatant disbelief. "The hell makes you think—?" He noticed the scrapes in the Devil's Trap too late and wondered what could have caused them before Crowley snapped out of existence. Dean saw the demon's knife left in the middle of one of the lines of the trap a moment later, and howled several curses in impotent rage. And then several things twisted inside him, and he turned his eyes onto Castiel.
Awesome. Rage? Not so impotent.
Castiel wasn't certain what he expected after the initial surprise of seeing Crowley vanish but he certainly wasn't expecting to feel his own frustrations being echoed back at him, as though bounced off a wall. And he certainly wasn't expecting to feel Dean's frustration growing and building and turning over into a blinding anger.
He had to admit to himself, later, that he did expect Dean's response to that anger. "So that was partially pointless, because we still don't know how to break this stupid bond thing, and you could have told us all of that." Dean stepped forward, moving into Castiel's personal space which in any other circumstance Castiel might point out. Now, though, Dean moved into his space to point a finger at Castiel. "Did you already know all of that, what he just said?"
"I knew of the bond," Castiel hedged.
"And you didn't see fit to tell us?" Dean growled.
"About the bond?" Castiel gave Dean a look. "About the profound bond? I thought I had mentioned that already. You seemed not to want to hear about it."
"But you knew how it worked? How all this—" He gesticulated sharply with both hands between himself and Castiel. "—works. Right?" Castiel started to open his mouth, but Dean growled over him, "You should have told me, Cas. Shouldn't we be past all this lying crap?" Castiel started to argue again, to point out that he didn't lie.
Again, Dean cut him off. "Omission is also lying, Cas." If Dean wasn't going to listen to him, Castiel wasn't going to stay and hang onto his every word. Castiel shot Dean a scathing glare, and sidled away from the wall to turn away and leave the room. "Ah—oh, no the hell you didn't just..." Dean started after him, Sam right on his heels.
He heard Sam murmuring quietly to Dean, urging him to calm down or I won't let you talk to him. Castiel almost smiled. Leave it to Sam to be the Winchester who forgave Castiel.
The other Winchester seemed to be fighting an urge to strangle him. "Must suck not to have any wings to flap off with, huh?" Dean called.
"Dean!" Sam snapped, but Dean ignored him. Sam stopped near the door to the living room, lingering there and glancing at Bobby as the older hunter joined him.
Castiel flinched, paused with his back turned to Dean while Sam and Bobby observed the argument behind ex-angel took a moment to compose his features, knowing that Dean was merely trying to bait him into anger, not hurt. He turned to face Dean, saw a flicker of response cross the hunter's features as Dean sensed Castiel's hurt."Yes, Dean," he said carefully, "I am, yet again, the powerless, helpless baby in the trench coat. Does that satisfy you somehow?"
"Not at all, just means I have more baggage to drag all over the country," Dean responded and Castiel visibly jerked away from him. Without meeting Dean's gaze, Castiel stalked across the room and settled carefully onto the couch, folding his hands and bracing his elbows against his knees so he could glare at the floor.
Dean wouldn't let up, and loomed over Castiel with his arms crossed over his chest. "So let's get this straight. After months, months of feeding us a bunch of bull, it slipped your mind to tell me that you have some freaky angel-feelers stuck in my soul and that you knew they could be used to do this to me?" Dean demanded, towering over Castiel.
Castiel closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath.
"Anything else you need to tell us, Cas? You didn't leave anything out this time, did you? Like maybe you still have enough mojo left to help the ex out of his cage downstairs and you're just playing like you're on the DL so you can steal something else? Man, I should have known after dealing with all your dick brothers that you'd be no different!"
That hit Castiel hard, and a deep penetrating sadness consumed him for several seconds. Dean's expression shifted for a second ruefully, then hardened again. Castiel pushed to his feet and crowded into Dean's space until the young hunter retreated a step. "Sometimes I regret ignoring my brothers' warnings about getting close to the humans in my charge," Castiel admitted, his voice quiet. Dean faltered again for just a moment, but then rage entered his eyes and Castiel sensed him throwing up a wall. It only served to frustrate Castiel further and in response, Castiel also bristled. Words full of force and venom, he hissed, "Everything that I lied to you about, everything that I did was to protect you and your brother and Bobby. And I may have been wrong but where were you with any alternate ideas on how to beat Raphael before he destroyed the world?"
That seemed to catch Dean off guard for a second, then he came back full-force. "I might have been able to help you if you would have come—"
"I did," Castiel ground out. "I came and you were raking leaves! I thought about my promise to Sam, and you looked happy, and Crowley came to me then and there. I had one day, Dean. One day in Heaven, a handful of moments on Earth. One day."
Again with the blank look, which quickly dissolved into a sneer. "So glad all the cards are finally on the table," Dean said. Castiel's brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed in confusion, and with an aggravated sigh and an eye roll Dean said, "At least you finally freaking told me, Cas. You could have done that before all this."
Castiel gave him a flat look. "When did you let me speak?"
And that fired Dean right back up. "You had months there to tell us what was going on, Cas. You never did."
Apparently seeing that this was going nowhere good, Sam interjected, "Dean—"
"Stay out of this, Sammy," Dean growled over his shoulder, turning an expectant stare on the ex-angel.
Castiel sighed. Here they were, full circle again. There was a strange feeling in Castiel's stomach, like it was churning. He gritted his teeth. "Do not presume that I'm the only one at fault, Dean. I tried to tell you, several times. Nearly every time you called me. You weren't interested in anything I had to say, anything I was doing. You only wanted my help."
Dean pulled up short and gaped at him. "So all that crap Rachel was spouting, was that her or you?"
Castiel blinked. "Those opinions were her own, and she was out of line. But I was fighting a war, Dean. I barely had enough time to cater to you."
Dean stared at him, jaw tense. Then, he turned to the trench coat slung over the back of a chair on the other side of the living room where Castiel left it earlierand picked it up, juggling its weight between his hands for a moment. When he looked back up at Castiel, his green eyes were cold and hard. "All of this could have been avoided if you would've manned up and told me the truth. We're done here." With the echo of their argument before Castiel rebelled against Heaven the first time, Dean shoved the trench coat into Castiel's chest and turned. He brushed by Sam and Bobby and left the house, slamming the front door behind him.
Castiel started when the door slammed, and glared down at the trench coat where he clutched it against his sore chest. Sam and Bobby were silent, seeming to try and process what had just happened. Castiel didn't know what to tell them, and struggled against the feeling that something was stuck in his throat as heat rose up the back of his neck and his eyes filled. He blinked, hard, trying to force back the foreign wetness at his eyes. He was shocked when moisture collected and spilled over, one drop rolling down the line of his cheek.
Castiel crumbled back to his seat on the couch. He quickly identified the anger, guilt, and shame that overwhelmed his senses and was surprised by their vehemence. Sam and Bobby were still watching him when he swiped the back of his wrist over his eyes and chanced a quick glance up. He looked away, nearly turning bodily toward the window so as not to meet their inquisitive, concerned stares.
A moment passed, and he took a deep, racking breath. Castiel sensed the surprise of both Bobby and Sam, neither of whom had ever witnessed him shedding a tear and both of whom seeming more than intrigued by this gesture of human weakness. Bobby made a soft, gruff noise, then said to Sam, "The other idgit is all yours."
Sam hummed in assent, and vanished. Castiel furrowed his brow, listening to the sound of Bobby's boots crossing the floor. Then a heavy weight landed on his shoulder—Bobby's hand. Bobby squeezed once when Castiel glanced up at him again. "Let's talk a minute, Feathers."