Chapter Three: Communication Breakdown

"Dean. What are these?"

"Divorce papers."

"What the fuck."

"I'm sorry, Cas, I tried. I really, really did, but that shit you pulled with the school was the last straw. You can't do shit like that. You're not God, you don't decide for me."

"You're so close to graduating! You can't just drop everything because you suddenly want to run into burning houses so you feel like you're 'doing some good'! Why can't-"

"You don't get it, Cas, it's my decision. MINE. My life. You don't know what's best for people. I let you do whatever the hell you want, come get you out of god knows how many bars, put up with your horrible Irish friend, forgive you every time you go crazy and accuse me of cheating on you, but this is too much. This isn't working."

"Fuck you! You fucking ass, after everything-"

"Screaming isn't going to help your case, you're like a fucking child. Cas, I love you, I'm so sorry, but I can't do this anymore. We're done."


Dean had already moved his things out, and after giving Cas the papers, he just left.

Cas was about to slit his wrists when Crowley showed up. He had no idea what he'd interrupted, and never knew that he stopped Cas from killing himself, but he did know where to score some excellent coke.


One year later…

Cas woke up, suddenly, shockingly sober, in what could only be described as a crack den.

"Hello, love." Crowley grinned, naked on the other side of the mattress.

"What… Did we…"

"You don't recall? I'm offended."

"Yes, then?"

"Oh, yes. Multiple times. I'm amazing, or so you told me."

Cas didn't remember any of it. Not that he was a stranger to blacked out sex with strangers, but Crowley wasn't a stranger, Crowley was the weird little friend that sold him drugs and flirted shamelessly with him, but never pushed it when Cas turned him down. Cas wasn't attracted to Crowley, never wanted him like that.

It was the final straw. Cas left, and walking home, he decided he was done. He was done feeling guilty and awful, done hoping that the high might start feeling like it had at the beginning, done going to harder and harder drugs to recapture the sweet numbness he wanted so much. Done waking up next to strangers, done fucking up everything he touched.

It was time to redeem himself.


Five years after one year later…

He heard rumors about Dean's reappearance long before he encountered him.

The first was from Gabriel, when Cas went to Loki Studios to have his tattoo altered. As Gabriel added giant wings and a halo to the pentacle on his back, he remarked, "You know, this is the second one of these I've seen this week."

"Yeah? It's popular with the goth kids," Cas smiled, remembering his love affair with black eyeliner fondly.

"I removed it, actually, from a guy about your age. Bright green eyes, smokin' hot," Gabriel remarked casually, and Cas stiffened.

"Where was it?"

"Over his heart. Said it was an ex-boyfriend thing."

Cas felt all the air go out of his lungs. It can't be Dean, he thought, I'd know if he moved back.

The second rumor came from his co-worker Balthazar as they opened up shop in the early morning. Castiel was elbow deep in dough when Balthazar bounced in, chattering far too excitedly for five in the morning.

"Cassy! Great open mic last night! Blues guitarist, incredibly mediocre. Full of can-do attitude, though. You should be sorry you missed it. He played all these raspy, sappy, sentimental songs about lost love and whatnot, and then, bam, at the end, shocks us all with fucking Taylor Swift. Crazy. You'dve loved it," Balthazar said.

Cas froze, feeling his lungs give up again. He still didn't want to believe that it could be Dean. Dean didn't even really like playing the guitar, he told himself sternly.

As he drove home that afternoon, he was so distracted by the idea that Dean might be around, that he almost missed the evidence that he was, in fact, around. Outside the fire station, there was the familiar black shape of the Impala, unmistakably THE IMPALA. Cas nearly ran a read light in shock, and then froze, staring at it.

Dean's name sung through his brain, and as he drove home, his mind raced, thinking of what he could possibly do to find him, speak to him, and then stopped abruptly as he realized he had no idea if he could even face him after what he'd done.

He was working a counter shift at the bakery the next day, and turned around as the bell rang under the door.

Familiar green eyes regarded him, and Cas couldn't do anything other than stare, and gulp for breath.

"Hey," Dean said, and gave Cas the beautiful half-smile that made his heart twist painfully in his chest.

"D-d-d-d…" Cas tried to speak, but all that came out was a painful, awkward stutter.

"Whatcha thinkin', Cas?" The half smile bloomed into a full smile, and Cas could feel his body shaking. He dropped his gaze, unable to meet Dean's eyes.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked, his face now quizzical.

"Oh, he's just being Cassy, which is to say, a big, nerdy spaz. What can we get you?" Balthazar appeared from nowhere, and stepped up to the till.

"Uh, apple pie, to go," Dean said, still looking at Cas.

"You played at Singer's a few nights back, right?" Balthazar asked as he dished up pie, "I caught your set, it was surprisingly good, for being blues and Taylor Swift."

Cas wished he could sink into the floor, wished he could find words, and finally, as Dean paid, still looking at Cas in confusion, he mustered every reserve of courage he had.

"Dean."

"Yes?"

"Would you like to get together? For coffee? Or something?"

"Yeah. That was kinda the idea. I heard you were working here from Jo."

"Oh. Well. I get done at three today."

"Cool. I'll swing by at three then." Dean smiled, and as he left, Cas couldn't do anything but stare after him.

I will redeem myself, he silently promised.


"So I checked myself into treatment, and that sucked, but it worked, you know, and got a job here, and that's pretty much the last five years."

"That's great, Cas, I'm glad you figured your shit out."

"I'm really, really sorry about all the crazy shit I put you through. I was insane. I was jealous, and insane, and I thought I knew what was best for everyone around me, and I didn't even know what was best for myself. I get now, why you had to leave. I… It was all my fault. I can't say I'm sorry enough times."

"You really can. You changed, that's what matters. You asked for help, finally. I'm really happy for you, man."

"….Thanks… So… Good talk."

"Good talk."

"Is… Do you… Can I see you again?"

"Well, yeah. I'm kinda busy for the next few weeks, but after that, yeah."

"Big plans?"

"I'm getting married in three days, so yeah, kinda big."