As much as he wanted to keep an eye on Cas, Dean knew he would go crazy if he didn't go on a real hunt soon- it'd been way too long. He looked in the papers himself for an easy hunt, and found what looked to be a shape-shifter in Maine. It wasn't a state the Winchester's went to often, but he figured why the hell not ? They would just supernatural-proof the motel room and let Castiel do what he pleased while inside it. The poor guy didn't get much alone time, and Dean felt bad about that. Plus, he was in the mood to kill some of the evil in the world and restore some of its former safety.
Castiel sat huddled in a cocoon of blankets on the old couch in the motel. He was really into the movie he was watching, and it was freezing cold here. He was allowed anywhere in the room to do anything he pleased, so long as he stayed inside the circle of salt Sam had laid down. The floor and walls were covered in sigils and devils traps, and it made Cas feel kind of out of place. He paused the movie and looked around, debating whether he should take a shower. He wanted to, but it was so cold that he almost couldn't bring himself to. In the end, he just decided to take a steaming shower and hope for the best.
The whole kidnapping had put him on edge, though he'd never show it around Dean. He could tell how much blame that Dean felt for the incident, but it really wasn't his fault. Castiel stepped into the spray of the showerhead, absently glancing down at himself. Aubergine bruises stood out on his pale chest, reminding Cas of his time with the demons. The memories flashed back without his permission, before he could stop them. He found himself sitting inside the bathtub portion of the shower, knees tucked to his chest. Tears were streaming steadily down his cheeks, and the pain in his ribs from sitting in such a way just made him cry harder. Soon loud sobs were wracking his body, something he hadn't done in a long time. Castiel had been so stoic and silent for so long, it was as if years worth of pain were catching up to him now. He didn't hear the door to the motel room open over his crying, so the pounding on the bathroom door startled him. "Cas ?!" Came Dean's frightened cry, voice husky. Castiel froze, and all was silent for a moment. Then the knocking continued, "Castiel, are you alright ?" This time it was Sam speaking. Castiel heard Dean say something to him, then call out "Cas ?" once again. "I'll be out in a minute," He replied in a low voice. He was ashamed that everyone had heard him cry, but he got dressed and exited the bathroom anyway. He kept his head down, plopping down on the couch. His teary eyes shimmered like glass as he looked up to meet Dean's gaze.
"I'm sorry," Castiel whispered, hanging his head. "No Cas, I'M sorry. It's my fault, all of it. Are you okay ?" Dean was awkward in the whole touchy-feely department, but he really did care, maybe more than he'd like to admit. Sam stood up, "I'm gonna go make popcorn…" He exited the living space without waiting for a reply. Castiel put his fists over his eyes, his comfort around Dean was now gone. He'd messed everything up, acted like the crybaby freak he was, and now everything was ruined. Dean would drop him back off at the psych ward, just like his own family had done over a year ago. He started tugging at his hair like he was going to tear it out, eyes clenched shut. Dean's strong hands gently pulled Castiel's away from his scalp, trying to make sure he didn't hurt himself. It startled Cas, and he lashed out, feebly attempting to shove the bigger man. Dean pulled him to his feet and pulled him into a tight hug, crushing him to his chest.
Dean remembered Sam telling him once that if you hug someone tightly when they're having a panic attack or something of that nature, it calms down their nervous system. That didn't make it any less awkward when Sam himself walked into the room almost dropping the bowl of popcorn. "Dean, what're you-" His older brother's stony glare stopped him mid-sentence, and he simply sat down. Castiel's breathing slowed, and he eventually leaned into the embrace. The last time he'd been hugged must have been ten years old, or younger. That was when he started being the 'weird' kid. Well, when it became noticeable. Dean moved him to the couch, controlling his smaller body easily. He grabbed his former fort of blankets and curled up in them, Dean at his side.
That night, Castiel couldn't stop thinking of his hug with Dean. Was it the fact that no one had even bothered to comfort him in who knows how long ? Was it the point that he had LET Dean touch him ? Or was it more than that ? These questions raced around in his mind, keeping him awake like every other night. He rolled over, his eyes flicking open in the darkness. He glanced over at the twin bed beside him, where Dean was supposed to be sleeping. He and Sam rotated nights sleeping in the bed, and this particular night, Sam had the couch. Cas sat up, peering around for Dean. It wasn't like him to actually get out of bed during the middle of the night, and this time he wasn't even anywhere in sight. A small flurry of panic started in Castiel's belly, the memory flashbacks from earlier returning with a vengeance. Why is it that at night things are so clear in your mind, the good and the bad ?
Things were hard to process for Castiel- he had spent so much time doing the same routine every day, so much time detatched from the real world. Now everything was in full color, full sound, full….feeling. Emotion was somewhat of a hard concept for him to grasp, and today all of his emotions were overwhelming him. He didn't think he could be blamed; he'd been through so much these past couple of weeks. That could never be erased…because what happens in the past, never really goes away. And they say nothing fixes itself in the memory so intensely as the wish to forget it.
Dean stood outside the run-down motel, leaning against the rough brick. It was a little after two a.m., and the tossing and turning just wasn't able to occupy him tonight. At least he wasn't asleep and having nightmares. Every day since the day that Cas was kidnapped, he had some variation of the same nightmare every night. In the dream, he was watching as Castiel was brutally tortured, unable to stop it. In the end, Cas always died and Dean always suffered, time after time. And he couldn't quite figure out why the loss of Cas terrified him so much. They were friends, sure, but they had only been together about a month. And Castiel was gone for about a week of that span…so what made the thought of being without him so terrible suddenly ? Maybe Dean couldn't afford to lose anyone else.
Dean tilted his head toward the velvet sky, drawing in a deep breath. The chilly air cleared his head and refilled his lungs, dispelling any negative thoughts he might have previously had. The door to the motel room creaked open slowly, and Castiel's head peeked out. His blue eyes lightened when he saw Dean. He stepped out and shut the door quietly behind him, giving his signature small smile. Cas let out a quiet 'hey', something Dean still wasn't used to. Every time he spoke again, Dean was still the tiniest bit shocked. And somewhere inside, it made him happy too.
Castiel was trying, and failing, to look away from Dean's green-gold eyes. They still always caught his attention; the unnaturalness of their color was still of fascination to Castiel. His gaze then involuntarily landed on Dean's lips, much to the wonder of Cas. He hadn't planned that at all, but now here he was, unable to look away, studying them, thinking about them….what a confusing mass of feelings. It occurred to him that Dean might catch him looking, so he glanced away and flushed red. What is it that made Cas act even weirder than usual ?
They stood in silence for a while, both looking out into the night. The lights around them went out at the same time, in a sudden spark and burst of noise. Castiel grabbed Dean's arm tightly "I don't like the dark anymore." Dean shushed him and pulled them both inside quickly, instructing Castiel to get on the bed and then turning on a lamp. He started re-checking the salt circles and devil's traps, before finally heading back to his bed. He noticed that Cas was on HIS bed, curled up and frightened. "Cas, buddy, yours is the other one." He met Dean's eyes, "I know, can't we just…share ?" Dean stopped for a moment "No…guys don't…they don't share beds, Castiel." The use of his full name stung Cas, and combined with the rejection, his feelings were really hurt. "But I'm scared," he pleaded. The look in Dean's eyes didn't waver, and Castiel moved to his own bed reluctantly, turning away from Dean and burying his face in the pillow.
The next morning, Castiel refused to talk to Dean. He sat silently sulking in the backseat, and both men refused to explain to Sam what their problem was. The car ride was awkwardly silent, and the pact remained between the two late into the night. The usual rig was set up, and the Winchester boys left on a hunt.
Dean was even more ready to kill than usual, and he was really pulling out all the stops. He was almost reckless with his fury, and Sam was beginning to get worried. Nothing, NOTHING, affected his brother like this. He thought that maybe since he had some tension going with Castiel, his best friend, that it was taking a toll on him. Dean wasn't really one to bond or make friends, but Cas was an exception. In reality, he was probably the only non-hunter friend that he had, and the only person he'd chosen to form a relationship with. Any of their other acquaintances were either other hunters, family friends, or someone Sam knew. Sam had had short term friends his whole life, but during the times they moved around, Dean had never made anything other than a weekly girlfriend. The youngest brother even had college friends, when all Dean had was John and Sam.
'There's a first time for everything,' Sam thought.
