A/N: Guys! I procrastinated my homework for you! When I fail my classes, you guys have to start paying for tuition, okay?
I hope you guys like this chapter. A couple of you guys said in your reviews that you'd like to see something from Cas's point of view. Well, ask and you shall receive! That's the power of reviews. Anyways, this chapter marks a turning point, and though I think I could have told it all from Dean's POV just as easily, I decided to indulge you guys and give you a little angelic introspection. Please review and let me know what you think! It makes me so happy when you review.
Castiel sat at Dean's bedside, watching him sleep. In sleep, Dean Winchester was a thing of beauty – harsh lines on his face vanishing, sarcastic one-liners silent. It was the only time he seemed unguarded and laid bare. Vulnerable, even.
Castiel had grown to loathe it.
He loathed how innocent and honest he seemed while sleeping, how genuine and unflinching his dreams were, because it made the reality of Dean's stubborn denial that much harder to take. His subconscious betrayed his suppressed desires and lured Castiel in with sweet promises of warmth and affection. Castiel, the fool, had been taken in.
It had taken a long time, much too long, for Cas to realize the obvious: Dean was grieving. He was lost and alone. His sleeping mind was grasping at any foothold it could cling to, any semblance of human connection it could assemble. The fact that it had taken the form of Castiel was not surprising; the fact that it awoke some latent mortal weakness in him was.
He loved Dean. But he'd loved Dean too much to see beyond his own wordly emotions and realize that the man didn't love him back. He'd been blinded by hope and faith and deaf to the harsh truth.
It wasn't the first time.
Dean's lips twitched in his sleep, as though he were silently mumbling to himself. You gon' be here when I wake up?
Castiel wanted more than anything to stay.
He reminded himself of all the times Dean had refused to let him in, of all the times Dean's body had said yes while his mouth whispered no, of the look on Dean's face when he was asked for just one reason that he needed Castiel around and he was unable to answer. He remembered the way he hid behind a mask of cutting remarks and sharp jokes, the countless women he'd fornicated with, his insolence and arrogance and insecurity and self-loathing. He remembered all of the times Dean had failed him. He remembered all of the reasons he'd walked away.
And yet.
That one damnable sentence.
I prayed, and you came.
Trust and hope and joy all wrapped up in one drunken phrase.
And so, cursing himself profoundly, Castiel stepped into Dean's dreams one last time to give him a proper goodbye; and if there was any kind of justice in the world, Dean would never remember.
….
Dean and Sam stood in an empty, faded spare room at Bobby's. Both were dressed in tuxedos, hair carefully combed back and dress shoes shining. They stood in front of a full-length mirror as Sam adjusted Dean's bowtie.
"There." Sam finished, and crossed his arms. "That's as good as it's gonna get."
Dean chuckled ruefully and checked himself out in the mirror. It was almost perfectly centered. Sometimes, it paid to have an anal retentive brother. "Thanks, man."
"No problem." Sam clapped him on the shoulder, and then kept his hand there. "Hey, Dean…"
Dean turned his head towards him.
"I'm. I'm really happy for you." Sam's eyes were bright, and his nostrils flared. "Really."
Oh, c'mon, that was not allowed to start happening yet. "Hey," Dean chided, "save it for the speech." He punched Sam lightly in the shoulder. "You gotta keep all the gooey chick flick you've been savin' up inside for just a little longer."
Sam rolled his eyes.
Dean surveyed himself again in the mirror. He shot himself a cheeky smirk, but goddamnit he couldn't keep a slight tremor out of his damn hands.
Sam gave a lopsided smile, a dimple in one cheek. "You know, I can't believe you of all people beat me to the altar."
Dean grinned, appreciating Sam's artful ability to distract him from the most nervewracking thing he'd ever done. "Yeah, me neither. What can I say, I'm a catch."
They exchanged a few more brotherly jibes, and then Sam left to finish getting ready himself. Dean returned to the mirror, smoothing his cummerbund and muttering at his hair.
Can't believe I'm doing this, it's actually happening, today's the day... freakin' cowlick...
Then Cas appeared behind him in the mirror.
"Dude!" He spun around, incredulous. "What are you doing?"
Cas froze, looking like a deer in the headlights. "How… do you mean?" he asked tentatively. Chrissakes, he was still in that damn ugly trenchcoat, his hair mussed like he'd been through a windstorm, and his tie askew. And he didn't get what Dean was talking about.
"Where's your tux?" Dean demanded. "This show gets on the road in a half hour, Cas. And I put on a monkey suit and everything!"
Cas looked confused, but didn't say anything. He looked almost... sad.
Suddenly, a bolt of ice cold terror shot through Dean.
Oh, Jesus, let it not be what I think it is.
"Cas." Dean gripped him by the shoulders and looked straight into his eyes. "Talk to me, man. You're not… you're not getting cold feet, are you?"
"My feet are... fine," Cas responded, looking even more baffled. "I'm wearing shoes."
Typical, so frigging typical. It was just Cas being is usual clueless self. Dean laughed and rested his forehead on Cas's, closing his eyes and exhaling heavily. "Thank God. For a second there… You had me scared, Cas. The look on your face…" Gently he kissed the bridge of Cas's nose, and put his arms around him. "For a second, I had this thought that you were gonna call it off."
Cas went rigid in his arms.
"Dean," he rasped, "wait."
Dean pulled back a little to look into his face, frowning. "What?"
"Why." Cas's brows were knitted upwards, his eyes wide and anxious. "Why?"
He arched one eyebrow. "Why did I think that?"
"Why do you… " Cas swallowed thickly. "Why are you marrying me?"
Dean felt his cheeks grow hot, and he ducked his head into Cas's warm neck. "C'mon, dude," he muttered, kissing lightly along his collar. "You know I'm no good with words."
"Try," Cas commanded hoarsely.
Dean didn't miss that note of urgency that bled into his voice. Cas was asking him honestly and seriously; he had to be wigging out the same as Dean, and it was up to Dean to reassure him, no matter how fucking dumb he might sound doing it. He tightened his arms around Cas, and moved his lips up towards Cas's ear. "'Cause I love you," he mumbled. "And I don't want anyone else to have you. And I want you for me, forever, for as long as you'll put up with me, because…" His lips briefly pressed to Cas. "Living without you seems damn fucking miserable."
Cas imperceptibly melted into him, and Dean felt him breathe in deeply. Like it was exactly what he'd needed to hear.
Mission accomplished.
"Oh, and lifetime supply of angel sex," Dean added, nipping at Cas's ear. He just couldn't resist being a smartass. "In fact, it's mostly the sex." And then he pulled back just enough to leer at Castiel. "We've got half an hour. Wanna…" He started to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively, but trailed off.
Cas's eyes were shiny and big, and he looked like –
Frankly, he looked like Bobby did when he stood up from his wheelchair.
"You, uh..." Dean licked his lips and squinted. "You gonna tell me what that was about?"
With a hint of a smile at his lips, Cas removed Dean's arms from around him, and answered.
"No."
