Chapter 4

Bobby talked for an age, Eliot had no idea how long, just knew that he himself had said almost nothing as he'd listened to Bobby's words in horror. When Bobby finally stopped and told him to go to bed, he'd been tempted to pull blankets from the closet and sleep on the couch, but Bobby had been ahead of him and had directed him back to his own bed.

He sat by the bed watching Dean's even breaths as his chest expanded and retracted steadily. Eliot was exhausted and overwhelmed and he didn't know where he stood. Bobby had said there was nothing like that going on between Dean and Castiel, but he couldn't be sure, couldn't trust enough to believe. He knew letting people close was a mistake, after all, that was why he was here, running again, only to be presented with more confusion, more emotional turmoil. He'd wanted peace, he'd wanted the reassurance of knowing someone cared for him, that he just had to be himself for once; that was all Dean and Bobby had ever asked of him in the past.

He felt the tears on his cheeks and wiped them away angrily. He was tired, afraid Dean had really been going to die this time, jealous - and now he didn't know where he stood.

"El?" Dean's eyes were on him, one hand twitching in his direction. Eliot wiped his eyes again and forced a half smile of reassurance onto his face, after all, none of this was Dean's fault.

"Hey dude," he greeted, standing up and moving closer so he could take hold of Dean's hand. "How about I help you sit up a little and you have some water and some more pills, huh?"

"Wha's wrong?" Dean croaked, his hand giving a slight squeeze to Eliot's.

"Nothing's wrong. Just watching, making sure you're okay, darlin'"

"Asshole!" Dean gave a tired smirk. "I feel like shit. Water might be good." There was a sudden flicker in his eyes and they widened anxiously, "Wh-Where's Cas?"

Eliot braced himself not to react, "He's in bed, upstairs. Pretty much out of it. He . . . Well I don't know what he did exactly, but you were really bad and he did something and loads of the foul crap in your side came out. Your temp dropped and you're a darn sight more lucid than you were." Eliot settled beside Dean, helping him lift his head enough to sip at the glass of water.

Dean sipped a few times cautiously before letting his head drop back against Eliot and his eyes drift closed. When he opened them again, he whispered, "Is he going to be okay? Is Cas going to be okay?"

Eliot let his hand drift soothingly down Dean's arm, "Bobby thinks he just needs to sleep off whatever he did. But iyou/i need to rest, too. He's helped, but you're far from being one hundred percent. Close your eyes and sleep." When Dean started to interrupt Eliot lay his hand across Dean's mouth, the move gentle but insistent, "No, sleep now. We'll talk tomorrow." As Dean's eyes closed, Eliot let his hand slip away.

Dean opened his eyes again and Eliot gave a huff of exasperation. "If you don't rest all that hard work your friend put in is gonna be wasted, dude!"

Dean's hand grasped weakly at his arm, his voice pleading, "Stay, El. Please stay with me."

Eliot nodded, "I'll stay 'til morning. Just let's move a bit, get comfortable, huh?" He lowered Dean so he was lying on the pillow beside him, and was unsurprised when Dean edged closer, resting his head against his shoulder. Dean finally seemed to settle, eyes closing. It wasn't long before his breathing evened out in sleep. Eliot lay alongside, waiting for him to wake, unwilling to go back on his promise, despite the torture of knowing this would be the last time they would lie like this. Tomorrow he would finish it with Dean, leave him free to be with Castiel.

He figured it was typical of Dean, not wanting to hurt anyone, so he would take the brunt of the pain on himself. Eliot could follow the thinking, anything more than a one night stand was cheating, that was what they'd agreed years ago. More than one night was more than scratching an itch. Castiel was more than an itch and Dean wouldn't cheat, so Eliot had to set him free. He wryly thought he'd heard some ridiculous saying about loving something and setting it free. Well, right then it was hurting, horrible nauseating, churning hurt inside and it was going to keep on hurting until he could get away and drown his sorrows. He'd have to stay a few days, keep up the facade so that he didn't hurt Dean, long enough to set his mind at rest and make sure he really was healing then he was out of here. He could go and piece himself back together alone somewhere. Figured it was just his luck that he'd lose the team and come looking for Dean to help him through it, only to lose Dean as well.

Bobby checked on Castiel in the morning, relieved to see the angel sprawled out like a child in sleep, snoring. He almost wished he had a camera to hand to take a picture of the normally austere angel so relaxed, something to let Dean tease him with later. In the meantime though, he was relieved the angel had made it safely through the night and seemed to be healing without the need for further intervention.

He hoped he would find the same when Dean rose this morning.

He headed out to feed the dogs before returning to the kitchen to start breakfast, half hoping Eliot would come and save him from the effort, despite knowing he'd probably spent the night keeping a vigil over Dean.

He heard a door open and close and footsteps cross to the bathroom, probably Eliot judging by the ease with which he moved. When he heard the shower flick on, he hoped it was Eliot and that Dean wasn't going to try and shower straight away. A few minutes later and the shower turned off again. He listened to the footsteps retreating back to the bedroom.

He sat at the table with coffee, deciding to wait on breakfast until he had at least one companion now he knew Eliot was awake. It didn't take long for the bedroom door to open again and he stood ready to make a second cup of coffee, but the footsteps didn't head his way, instead he listened as there was a shuffle of steps across from the bedroom to the bathroom, accompanied by the soft murmur of voices.

He could hear the clank of the house's old pipes that signalled more running water and sat back down to wait. It took longer this time and when the door finally opened the shuffled steps seemed to be heading towards the kitchen. It was no surprise to see Dean enter the room, supported by an exhausted looking Eliot. Dean was pale, but looked much better than when he'd arrived.

Bobby smiled in greeting and Dean's warm smile lit up his face, chasing away any signs of pain. Dean shrugged off Eliot's helping hand and stepped carefully across to Bobby, "'S good to see you, old man." Bobby couldn't help but agree, wrapping his arms around the solid bulk of Dean's chest and reassuring himself that this was Dean, alive and healing. He turned and guided the young man to a seat, promising food. As soon as he had Dean seated, he stepped back to check him over again, turning to Eliot to ask whether he'd checked the injuries that morning and changed the dressings. It was Dean who reassured him that Eliot had been thorough and everything was fine, much better.

Eliot busied himself preparing something for them to eat, his attention seeming to be entirely focussed on his task. Bobby caught Dean's eyes fretfully following Eliot's every move and wondered what the problem between the two boys was. It wasn't like them to be at odds. Over the years, he'd known them have a few disagreements, but they tended to argue loud and fast and then fix whatever the problem was. The complete opposite, he reflected, to how Dean argued with his family.

He'd watched the two of them negotiate the pitfalls of what had to be a complicated relationship, but they both seemed to understand the need for compromise, both seemed willing to give to the other while neither wanted to take advantage. He didn't know much about Eliot's background, but Dean's he knew plenty, knew that the Winchesters as a family didn't know much about compromise in day to day life until it would come to something huge. Within their own ranks, Dean knew everything about sacrifice and about being taken advantage of daily, however unintentionally Sam and John had done it. He'd often wondered if Eliot's background had been similar.

The boys sat together on the swing seat on the porch, Eliot stiff and upright as Dean leant into him seeking comfort. Bobby was working on the other side of the yard and, as far as they knew, Castiel was still sleeping. Bobby had taken a snap or two of the boys relaxing in the past with a camera he'd had for years. He'd been tempted to do the same again, but then, seeing the distance between them, figured maybe it was better not to immortalize it on film.

It was the two of them who reminded him of the camera years ago. They'd been joking around about forgetting what the other looked like, walking past one another in the street because it was that long between visits. He'd spent an afternoon hunting round the house until he'd finally found it and been able to take some snapshots of the two of them individually and apart. He'd had them developed, knew Dean at least carried a picture of Eliot in his wallet. He'd found it when they'd been preparing to bury him. He'd hidden it from Sam, knowing Dean had always kept secret just what his relationship with Eliot was, and then made sure it went into the coffin with him . . . like it made a difference. The picture hadn't survived Dean's resurrection intact, but Dean had known it had been with him and when he'd returned to Bobby's, he'd asked if he had anymore. He'd avoided the issue of whether Bobby had told Eliot he was dead or not.

It was time they had some more photos to treasure. There was something wrong with them this morning though, Eliot's usual poise lacking, all of the contact being initiated by Dean and returned in only its minimalist form by Eliot. He hoped that this latest injury wouldn't be what pushed Eliot away, knew that Dean needed something to hang on to, something that was his without question, without demand. Dean had faced too much to protect the ones he loved and much as Bobby knew he would sacrifice everything for Eliot, Bobby also knew that the feeling had been reciprocated in full. It was the only equal relationship Bobby had ever known him have.

Dean wasn't up to managing the stairs, but sent both Eliot and Bobby upstairs regularly to check on Castiel, unsure whether to be content with the 'he's sleeping' but unable to overcome the restraint Eliot imposed on him not to try and tackle the stairs. Regular doses of the painkillers and the discomfort he was still in drove Dean to return to his own bed early. His eyes pleaded with Eliot to accompany him, although the words would not pass his lips.

Eliot helped him through to the other room, giving the injuries one last check before turning the main light off as Dean lay down. He left the bedside light on and said he would be back to check on him later. As Eliot turned to leave, he saw the pleading in Dean's eyes, but hardened himself to ignore it, turning away, knowing he was hurting the person he cared for most in the world. He knew he needed to end it, it would hurt less if he dealt with it quickly, but he just couldn't quite bring himself to let go.

He left the room, heading straight to the bathroom, closing the door securely behind him and letting out the breath he had been holding, trembling and trying not to give in to the overwhelming emotions inside. He gave himself a few moments then ran some water and washed his face before heading back out to join Bobby who was watching some TV.

He sat staring at the screen, ignoring Bobby's attempts at conversation as much as he could, giving one word answers before turning back to the screen. His mind raged though, and he had no idea what he was watching. Willpower alone was keeping him from breaking, but he didn't know how much longer he could keep going.

Bobby had been surprised to see Eliot come back out of the bedroom after Dean had gone to bed. He watched the young man slump into an empty chair and appear to turn his attention to the TV without a word.

"Wasn't expectin' you back this evening? Thought you'd be staying with Dean," Bobby said simply, disappointed when he just got a 'hmph' in reply before Eliot shifted round to stare more intently at the TV. After a couple more ignored attempts at conversation, Bobby's patience was running out. "Eliot!" he said shortly, "are you planning on talking about whatever this problem is?" He could see the young man before him almost visibly shrinking in on himself with each of Bobby's attempts to elicit a response. With no more idea what was the matter, Bobby finally stood saying he was going upstairs to check on Castiel.

Upstairs he opened the door to find the angel looking directly at him, sitting on the side of the bed. Castiel was still pale and looked tired but his voice was clear, if a little unsure, when he asked tentatively, "What happened?"

Bobby shook his head in disbelief, "Who knows? I was kind of hoping you might be able to tell me. You tried healing Dean, we came in to his room to find the pair of you slumped in a heap on the floor. You've slept for almost twenty four hours straight and you're not looking brilliant right now, so I wouldn't bother getting up. There's no reason not to keep resting, everyone else is."

Castiel swallowed, clearly anxious, before questioning softly, "Dean?"

"In bed. He woke this morning, much better than he was. It looks like that wound on his side will heal now, but he's still pretty wiped out. He's not long ago taken some more painkillers and gone back to bed."

"It didn't work . . . he – he wouldn't accept the healing," Castiel sounded disappointed.

"Hmph!" Bobby snorted. "Don't talk like an eejit, boy! Course he accepted the healing, 's what I just said to you, isn' it? I'm guessing what he wouldn't accept was your complete sacrifice. What game d'you think you're playing at? He needs you around, hell we all do! You're a darn sight more useful alive than you are dead! You know I kinda expected you not to be as big an eejit as the other boys . . . I mean, aren't you supposed to be like millennia old? You're still as stupid as a dungbeetle!" Bobby shook his head in annoyance and Castiel looked almost sheepish, acknowledging the truth in what Bobby was saying.

Bobby sighed, taking pity on the weary angel, "Why don't you lie back and I'll bring you something to eat, then you can sleep and we'll see how you're doing in the morning?" Castiel gave a bare nod of acceptance and shifted his position ready to lie back down again.

Once downstairs, Bobby tried to rouse Eliot from his staring contest with the TV, "It's 'bout time he woke up. Is there any of that stew you dished up earlier?"

The younger man shrugged but didn't say a word. He was broken out of his concentration by a clip around the back of his head. He growled out his anger and flew to his feet rounding on Bobby, before suddenly taking a shocked step backwards as he realized how near to losing his control he really was. "I'm going out," he snapped, turning and virtually running for the door.

With Castiel fed, watered and sleeping again, Bobby returned downstairs to wait for Eliot to return. When almost two hours had passed, he decided to take a walk around the outside of the house, through the salvage yard just to see if Eliot was hiding out there.

Ten minutes of walking round using the security lights to search thoroughly, finally revealed Eliot sat in the back of a wrecked Impala, the remains of the one Bobby had dragged in to help Dean with spare parts when he'd been fixing up his own, a couple of years ago. There wasn't much left of it and it didn't provide any real shelter against the dropping temperature and the impending rain. Bobby spent a moment wondering whether Eliot had chosen it because of its link to Dean, but decided not to waste any more time out in the cold and headed straight over, "We need to talk. My old bones've got more sense than to think sitting out here in the godforsaken cold is a good idea, so can we please go back inside and try to fix whatever's got panties in a twist?"

Eliot shook his head before muttering there was nothing to fix. Bobby frowned, before huffing out a breath of frustration and leaning into the car. He grabbed hold of Eliot's ear and tugged it determinedly until the younger man had no choice but to move. Once he'd tugged enough to have Eliot out of the car and beside him, he let go of his ear and gave a firm push in the direction of the house, "Get inside, eejit!" He kept up the pushing and guiding with enough force to make his intention clear, whilst making sure Eliot didn't have the time to object or the balance to try and throw him off. "Three of ya! Three of ya! Like a man needs that at my age! Ya'll drive me to ima/i grave before my time!"

As they approached the steps, Bobby recognized the moment when Eliot gave up fighting. His shoulders slumped and his head dropped as he made his way up the steps without the need for any more pushing from Bobby. He walked into the den and fell on the seat he'd vacated earlier, eyes finally meeting Bobby's for a brief moment.

"Talk to me, boy," Bobby said, his eyes showing only a small amount of surprise when finally Eliot began to speak.

Eliot wasn't sure who was more surprised when he began to talk, himself or Bobby. "Figure me and Dean are through," he muttered. "What with Castiel an' all. . ."

"Castiel?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah. . . can't really compete with an angel, can I? 'S not like I've got much to offer," he shrugged. He watched as Bobby frowned and pulled a face as if pondering what exactly to say. Eliot shook his head, "No, Bobby, you don't have to say anything. I just . . . I just want to be sure Dean's okay and then . . . then I'll move on. Leave ya'all be. It's – It's as it should be."

"Aw god, boy, why don't ya grow a pair? There's nothing like ithat/i between them. Castiel's an angel! You think he's going to be interested in any human hanky panky! Geez – you chuckleheads, I really can't decide which one of ya'all's the most stupid! All these years, I thought you iknew/i how Dean felt? You think he's been playing games with ya? You think as sick as he's been, he'd've driven all this way for nowt?" Eliot started to stand, but Bobby pushed him back down, "Sit Down! I thought the two of you, after all this time, all the crap . . . "

"It's not like that. We always said we wouldn't cheat, ya know? Not anything that meant anything and he hasn't. He won't . . . ever, I know that. So it's up to me to finish it, so he's free, free to do what he wants, be with who he wants!"

Bobby shook his head at the sincerity in his voice, the belief that he really was doing the right thing for Dean. "Sit down and . . . I dunno, get comfortable or something. I guess I'm going to have to tell you about some of the stuff that's been happening to your boy, 'cause I'm guessing he hasn't and knowing him, he's probably not gonna. You need to do something so the two of you aren't apart for so long in the future. He needs you. He needs someone who just wants him for who he is and that's always been you." Bobby paused thinking through his words carefully, "He's had a shit time the last couple of years. I mean the last time you saw him was . . . I dunno? When have you seen him lately?"

"I saw him after he met that woman, the one with the kid he thought might've been his . . . he was a mess, that hurt him real bad. He was talking about thrown away futures, legacies and leaving nothing worthwhile behind. He told me how his brother had been kidnapped by a demon and nearly died. He told me then he almost threw his own life away to save him," Eliot said. "None of that is the same though . . ."

"Almost threw his life away?" Bobby shook his head in disbelief. "Shit! Dean . . . Dean made a deal with a demon, his life for Sam's. He had one year to live, that's what he was really talking about with the whole futures and legacies thing."

"If – if he made a deal, how's he still here?" Eliot asked in horror. "And – and where the fuck is his brother?"

Bobby tilted his head slightly, watching Eliot's reaction carefully. The young man knew enough about hunting to believe most of what he'd tell him, but whether he'd be able to handle this story, and what it would do to his relationship with Dean, Bobby was no longer sure. He figured there was nothing left to do but soldier on. "Sam tried to find a way to save him from the deal, but there was nothing. He went to Hell . . . He hasn't really said what happened while he was there, but it was Hell, what more does he need to say . . . For a reason that sure as anything ain't clear, Castiel brought him back. I know you've seen the mark on his shoulder. Castiel's mark. So yeah, there's something between the two of them, but not what you're thinkin'. I mean, if you're gonna stick around, I figure you're gonna have to get used to Castiel. He's pretty much here to stay and we don't know why or what for; there's more to it than just pulling him out of Hell, but the angels have their own agenda. Sometimes I believe it when Castiel says he doesn't know what it is they want with your boy, sometimes I think he does and he's just not saying."

Eliot looked horrified, "But . . . Castiel . . . he was calling for him. I thought. . ." He fell silent, looking away.

"Yeah. Look Eliot, I don't know all the intricacies of their . . . whatever, same as I don't for you and him, but one thing I'm sure of is that you're the one he wants to be with, no matter how hard it is. Castiel . . . I guess they've been through stuff together, knowing Dean he feels like he owes him something, something for getting him out of hell, something for what they've been through since. I dunno, it's Dean. You tell me!"

Eliot nodded without making eye contact. The two men sat for a few minutes in silence before Eliot shifted awkwardly. "I – I think I'll go to bed now," as he stood and made his way to the door, "Good night."

Bobby smiled watching him go, figuring that maybe things could be okay again.

Eliot slipped silently into the bedroom a few minutes later, shed clothes down to his boxers and slid into the bed behind Dean, curling round the sleeping man and cautiously slipping his hand over to rest over Dean's heart as he slept. He felt his tension slip away with the feeling of Dean's heart beat steady and strong now, not racing like it had been earlier.

Dean stirred a fraction, a muttered "El?" as he fought towards wakefulness. Eliot shushed him, kissing the nape of his neck softly, relieved when he relaxed again, drifting back to sleep.