Chapter Four!
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CHAPTER WARNINGS: language, minor character death (canon), slash, domestic abuse
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Castiel slid another book into its proper place on the shelf and rearranged them so they were standing up straight. He turned back to the library's rolling cart marked "returned books" and picked up the next one, flipping it over in his hands to see where he'd have to drag the contraption next. He'd been working in the library for about a week, and although it didn't pay as well as his last job, it was enough so that Dean didn't have to work fourteen-hour days anymore.
He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket as he moved towards the self-help section and he paused to dig his phone out of his jeans. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the caller ID, holding the phone next to his hip so the cart hid it from the people at the front desk.
BALTHAZAR
Castiel's eyebrows drew together. Balthazar was by far his favorite sibling, even if he hadn't been around much when Castiel was older. He had avoided Michael by spending most of his time bouncing around town and staying with friends. He hated to hear his siblings fight.
Balthazar had been the one to get a good job in television production and was able afford to pay for the portion of Castiel's education that couldn't be covered by the money their mother had left him.
Still, Balthazar rarely called; he would text or show up at the door, but Castiel couldn't remember the last time they'd talked on the phone.
Castiel flipped the simple phone open and pressed it to his ear. He spoke softly, though the library was almost deserted on the brisk, bright Saturday afternoon. "Balthazar? Hi."
"Hey, Castiel," Balthazar greeted him, sounding a far cry from his usual jovial, quietly amused self. "I have some bad news."
"I figured," Castiel leaned back on the rolling book cart and braced himself, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. He wrapped an arm around his waist and tugged nervously at the hem on his thick sweater. His stomach felt like it had suddenly been filled with lead. "What happened?"
"Anna...Anna's dead," Balthazar said bluntly. "Car crash. The other car barely had a dent. She careened off into a tree. Hit it head on."
"Oh, God," Castiel slumped over and reached out to grip one of the shelves to keep himself standing, stunned. He'd been expecting bad news but not...not anything like this. "Balthazar...Oh, God..."
"Castiel, listen," Balthazar said urgently. "The funeral's Monday. Can you make it?"
"Yes," Castiel choked, feeling a sting behind his eyes as tears formed. He swallowed hard and added softly, "Can I bring Sam and Dean?"
"I think that would be a good idea," Balthazar said lowly. "Michael is on the rampage, and it's hard enough for me to keep track of the younger ones. Sam and Dean can watch you better than I can right now."
"We'll be there early Monday morning," Castiel promised, hunching his shoulders and leaning more heavily on the shelf. He gripped the lip of the shelf so hard his knuckles turned white. A small sound of distress escaped his lips and he pressed them firmly together to try to cut it off.
"Castiel?" Balthazar said softly. "Where are you?"
"Working," Castiel replied, squeezing his eyes shut. The bright lights on the ceiling suddenly seemed too bright. "At the library."
Balthazar cursed under his breath. "I should have made sure you were at home before I told you. I'm sorry, Cas…"
"It's not...it's not..." Castiel was trying desperately not to cry. He didn't cry, he hadn't cried in years, and he'd never cried in public. But he couldn't get the last thing Anna had said to him out of his mind; it ran on repeat through his brain, shrill and desperate, "I'm so sorry, Castiel, I'm so fucking sorry, I was mad, I didn't know he'd do this to you...I'm sorry..."
A dry sob escaped his lips.
"Castiel, give the phone to one of your coworkers," Balthazar commanded firmly, leaving no room for argument. Castiel stood up shakily and complied immediately, tugging the book cart behind him as he made his way to the front desk.
He paused in front of Ash's check out isle. Ash was nice, didn't call him a freak, and treated him like a person. If there was anyone who wouldn't make fun of him or beat him up for bawling like an idiot, it would be Ash.
Ash glanced up from the book in his hand when he saw Castiel, and his expression quickly changed from pleasant to concerned. "You okay, Castiel?"
Castiel shook his head and tried to speak, but the lump in his throat stopped him. He could hear Balthazar's voice through the phone speakers and passed the phone to Ash, his hands shaking so hard he could barely keep a grip on it.
Ash put it to his ear, eyeing Castiel nervously, and listened to Balthazar speak for a few moments. His mouth twitched into a frown and his eyes widened as he listened. "Oh, my God. Yeah, no...no, man, that's totally fine. Yeah...okay...okay..." Ash jotted something down on a sheet of paper. "Alright, I'll make sure he gets home. Yeah. Sorry for your loss, man."
Ash hung up the phone and handed it back to Castiel, frowning. "That sucks, dude."
Castiel nodded and wrapped his arms around himself tightly. He wanted to go home.
"Your brother wants me to call Dean or Sam," Ash went on, watching Castiel carefully. The man was strangely silent and unresponsive, his skin pale and his eyes shining. Ash wasn't sure if it would help to try to hug him or pat his shoulder or something, but restrained himself, uncertain.
"Dean's at work," Castiel managed to say, clearing his throat and gaining the ability to speak. "I...I'm fine. I can call Sam myself."
"If you're sure, dude," Ash raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "You want to go into the back room?"
"That would be preferable, yes," Castiel nodded and replied slowly. He went around the counter and entered the small back room, closing the door behind him. There were boxes and boxes of a new shipment of books that were slowly but surely being added to the database and shelved, but not much else in the room, with the exception of a small electric coffee pot in the corner.
Castiel sank into a cross-legged position on the floor and dialed Sam's number, working on autopilot. He suddenly felt detached and far away from what was happening around him; he felt like he was watching himself through a window.
Sam's phone rang four times before he answered. Cas let out an inadvertent sigh of relief when he heard Sam's voice on the other end. "Hello?"
"Sam," Castiel said steadily. "I need you to come pick me up."
"What?" Castiel heard what sounded like a stack of books or papers falling to the floor and David Green saying something in the background. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened?"
"I am fine, physically," Castiel replied blankly. "Anna was killed in a car crash. Her funeral is Monday afternoon."
There was shocked silence for a few moments before Sam breathed softly, "Oh my God, Castiel. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I'll be right there. Just hold on, give me, like, ten minutes. I'm at Dave's."
"I'm sorry," Castiel apologized, squeezing his eyes shut tightly against the tears he felt stinging at the corners. He added through gritted teeth, "I don't want to inconvenience you, but Dean's at work, and..."
"You're never an inconvenience, Castiel," Sam said firmly. "Don't think like that. I'll be there soon, okay? Call me if you have to, but I'll be there in, like, ten minutes. Bye."
Castiel hung up the phone and tossed it to the side. It skidded across the dirt on the floor and stopped after a few feet. Castiel picked it up again and pitched it against the wall.
This time it smashed into pieces.
Dave trailed after his frantic boyfriend into the library, sighing irritably. Sam had been adamant they rush down here to come to the rescue of his little friend, and, honestly, Dave was annoyed. He was just about to get Sam's shirt off, something the younger man had been reluctant to do before now (which was ridiculous considering what he'd done in Dave's car a couple weeks ago).
Sam had pushed him away and answered the call, and now here they were, at the library on a perfectly good Saturday, probably the last nice one before it got really cold out.
"He's in the back room," the kid with the mullet and hair to his waist told Sam when he saw Sam burst through the doors and look around wildly. "He's just staring at a wall right now."
Sam cursed under his breath and went behind the desk and into the little back room. Dave followed him into the room, pausing to hover in the doorway and watch the scene unfold in front of him.
Castiel was sitting on the floor amidst the pieces of a broken electronic; a phone, judging by the size of the key pad on one shard of the plastic. He was staring at the opposite wall blankly and didn't react when the door opened.
"Cas," Sam said his name softly. He knelt down next to him and lightly touched his shoulder, then his cheek, trying to get Castiel to look at him. "Castiel, look at me. C'mon, man."
Cas blinked at the sound of his full name and seemed to see Sam for the first time. His shoulders sagged in relief. "You're here."
"I told you I'd come get you," Sam pointed out, smiling gently and moving his hand to grasp Castiel's elbow. "Are you ready to go?"
"She hit a tree," Castiel met Sam's eyes seriously. "She was knocked off the road by another car. The other people were okay."
Sam nodded, chewing on the inside of his bottom lip and rubbing Castiel's back absentmindedly. Sam was obviously worried about Castiel, and Dave reluctantly had to agree with his concern; Cas's gaze was blank and distant. On the other hand, Dave wasn't too happy with how tactile Sam was being with Castiel. He didn't like the way Sam was tenderly rubbing gentle circles on his back and looking at him with that sad, concerned sparkle in his dark hazel eyes.
"Let's get you home, Castiel," Sam tugged Castiel to his feet by his elbow and steadied him when Castiel faltered. "It's alright. I've got you."
Castiel blinked and looked up into Sam's face solemnly. When he spoke, his voice was low and sincere. "I know you do."
Dave clenched his hands so tightly into fists his nails bit into his palms.
Yeah. This couldn't happen anymore. He was putting a stop to this.
Sam glanced at the clock above the sink in Dave's apartment and saw that it was getting late. He still had to pack, and Dean had said they were going to leave late that night to get to Kansas in time for the funeral. He pushed Dave away from where Dave was moving his hands down his body and kissed him on the mouth before drawing away and starting to stand.
Dave pushed him back down and pinned him to the couch, kneeling over him with a knee on either side of his chest. He ran a hand through Sam's thick hair, pushing it out of his face. "What's up, Sam?"
"I should get going," Sam pulled himself into a half-sitting position and propped himself up on his elbows. "I have to pack. We're leaving soon to get to Kansas in time."
Dave's frown deepened as Sam broke contact and slid out from under him to sit up at the other end of the couch. "I'll miss you."
"I'll miss you, too," Sam replied, smiling a little bit and reaching out to grip Dave's hands in his own for a moment. "I'll be back Wednesday, though. It's not too long."
"Whatever, Sam," Dave muttered disgruntledly and stood up. He stomped over towards his kitchen and started to rifle through the fridge for a beer.
"Dave, what is it?" Sam's eyebrows drew together. He followed Dave into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. Dave ignored him and dug through a drawer to find his bottle opener. "It's only a few days."
"But it's with him, Sam," Dave sighed, popping the top off his beer. Sam tried not to flinch. Dave drank, but not like their father had. It still made Sam marginally nervous to have alcohol around the house, or have people drinking around him. Dean had noticed after the first few times he drank around Sam and began restricting himself to just drinking when he was out. "You know I don't like you hanging out with him."
"Cas?" Sam asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He fought the urge to roll his eyes. "I've told you a thousand times, Cas and I are not interested in each other. He's my best friend. His sister just died and he needs my support."
"So he takes precedence over me?" Dave demanded, turning to face Sam and taking a swing of his beer. "For God' sake, Sam, I'm your boyfriend. Not him. I want you here. You can't go."
"I can't go?" Sam repeated incredulously. "Are you giving me an order?"
"Yes," Dave replied calmly, leaning back against the counter. His eyes flashed challengingly. "I am."
Sam gaped at him for a moment before he shook his head and ran his hands through his hair. "You can't do that. I'm my own person. I can make my own choices."
"Can you?" Dave demanded, moving towards Sam startlingly fast and pinning him to the counter with a hand on either side of Sam's body. "You've made your choice already, Sam. How often do you even see them anymore? Do you have any idea what you've put them through? They're probably thrilled you've been gone so much."
"That's not true," Sam said steadily, but a prick of uncertainty nagged him in the back of his mind. He couldn't help but think of all the times Dean came home exhausted and frustrated, said no to a date because he had to work or come home and take care of Sam. He thought of Cas working and going to school so they could pay rent, Cas slowly retreating more and more into himself since Chuck left. That had been Sam's fault; Cas had continued to live with Sam and Dean, and Chuck felt like their relationship wasn't important to Cas, and like he loved Cas more than Cas could love him.
All because of Sam, all because they had devoted their lives to taking care of him.
"Your brother and Cas have been working themselves to death to pay for that apartment and food and school supplies for you," Dave said softly, his mouth close to Sam's ear. Sam could feel Dave's warm breath puff against his skin. "You don't think they get sick of you? They should be out partying with their friends, they should have lives outside school, work, and you. But they can't."
"I didn't...I didn't ask for that," Sam argued weakly, turning his face away from Dave. Dave's words sent an ache through his chest. Sam knew Dean and Cas sacrificed a lot to take care of him. He knew that is he wasn't around their lives would be easier. But they loved him, he knew they did... "They both love me."
Sam lurched to the side when an open palm made contact with his face. He gasped and reached up to touch the tender spot on his cheek where a red mark was undoubtedly forming rapidly. He gazed up at Dave, shocked.
"Don't ever say that he loves you," Dave growled, leaning over Sam and forcing him to crowd against the counter. "He doesn't care about you. If he does, why are you here? Why do you need me if he loves you so much? I care about you more than he ever could."
Sam shook his head, unable to look at Dave. His head was whirling with thoughts of "He hit me" "He's right" "Dean and Cas are probably dreading me coming with them for this" "I don't deserve anything they've done for me" "It's all my fault". It was as if all the insecurities he had about Cas and Dean were knocked loose from their cages by the blow to his head and were now free to roam around his mind.
Dave smiled when he say the uncertainty in Sam's eyes. He gripped Sam's chin and forced the younger man to look up and meet his steady gaze. "I'm sorry, Sam. I don't want to hit you. You just have to understand what I'm saying here."
"No, I know," Sam nodded, sucking on his bottom lip, uncertain. "I guess...I guess maybe I could just let them go by themselves. I guess they could use some time without me tagging along."
"I think you're right, baby," Dave pressed his lips to Sam's and pulled him in for a hug. "Let me get you some ice. Call your brother and let him know you're not going."
"Alright," Sam agreed, not sure what had just happened, or why he was doing this. Dave dug Sam's cell phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and handed it to him, pressing it into his hand gently.
"Go ahead, baby," Dave said, leaning forward to kiss Sam's temple.
Sam dialed Dean's number and listened to the phone ring, praying Dean wouldn't pick up and he could just leave a message.
"How cold do you think it'll be?" Dean asked, looking up from his duffel bag at Cas, who hadn't moved from where he was sitting cross-legged on Sam's bed. He was picking at his thick wool socks and staring despondently at his fingers. "Cas."
Cas blinked and looked around wildly, as if he was confused to find himself in his own apartment. "What?"
"Do you want me to pack you a winter jacket or not?" Dean asked, observing his friend closely. "It might get cold."
"Yes," Cas agreed before his eyes went blank and far away again. Dean sighed and stuffed the thick jacket into the duffle. Cas detached when he was upset or scared, and Dean had learned that it was best to wait it out.
Dean felt his phone vibrate against his leg and dug it out of his pocket.
The screen flashed "SAM" so he flipped it open and pressed it to his ear, cradling it there with his shoulder so he could continue packing. "Hey, Sam. Are you on your way home? We leave in three hours."
"I...actually, Dean, I'm not going," Sam said quickly. "I have to stay here. I have classes and loads of work to keep up with and I can't take time off now."
"Sam, his sister just died," Dean growled, dropping the socks he was pairing up and taking the phone in his hand to hold it to his ear. "He needs us right now."
"He doesn't need both of us," Sam snapped, irritation seeping into his hoarse voice. "You two will be fine. I'll stay here by myself. It's not a big deal, Dean."
"Like hell it's not a big deal!" Dean exclaimed, slamming his hand on the dresser angrily. Cas jumped and curled up into a tighter ball, blinking excessively. He started shaking and Dean cursed softly when he realized Cas was trying not to cry. "Sam, he's a mess. You can miss two days of class."
"Don't tell me what I can do, Dean," Sam said sharply. "I want to stay here. I don't want to go all the way out to Kansas for the funeral of some girl I barely knew."
"What the hell is wrong with you, Sam?!" Dean bellowed, not caring if the neighbors heard, but slightly concerned by Cas's reaction. He had scooted up against the wall at Dean's raised voice and buried his face in his trembling hands. "He's your best friend and he needs you! He won't talk, he's been staring at a wall all afternoon, and damn it, now he's crying! He's fucking terrified to go back to that hellhole! Do you even care?"
"I'm not going, Dean," Sam said stoically after a long pause. "I'll be home later."
Sam hung up without another word.
"Screw you, Sam!" Dean yelled into the disconnected phone line. "Damn it..."
He threw the phone onto his bed and sighed, rubbing his hands over his face exasperatedly. He returned his attention to Cas. Cas was still pressing himself against the wall and hiding his face in his hands. Dean could see the tears dripping from between his fingers and landing on Sam's worn bedspread.
Dean sighed and moved towards Cas, sitting on the edge of the bed and tugging the smaller man into his arms the way he held Sam after a nightmare. Cas resisted at first, then seemed to realize it was Dean and immediately latched on to the front of his shirt and cried into the shoulder of Dean's jacket. His whole body was shaking and his fingers could barely get a grip on the fabric of Dean's shirt.
Dean hugged Cas close and shut his eyes tightly, feeling a sting in the corner of his eyelids. He had never seen Cas cry like this, and it scared him a little bit. Cas gripped at Dean's shirt desperately, digging his fingers into the fabric. "Damn it, Sam."
Cas whimpered and pressed his face against Dean's shoulder, and Dean stroked his hair, wishing he could do something to make this better for Cas. Cas didn't handle emotional upheavals the way most people did. He hadn't been taught how to handle emotions when he was younger, so he either bottled them all up or lashed out. He went back and forth from not talking or reacting to anything around him to almost childishly wanting touch, craving comfort and safety from someone he trusted.
"It's alright, Cas," Dean said softly, rubbing Cas's back soothingly. "She's in heaven now, right?" Dean wasn't sure he bought that crap, but if it made Cas feel better, he'd talk about it all Cas wanted. "She's not in pain or anything. God's taking care of her up there."
Cas sniffled and nodded against Dean's chest. "He could have taken care of her just as well when she was here."
"I don't know, Cas," Dean sighed, tightening his arms around Castiel's shuddering body. "Here kind of sucks."
"Here," Dean shoved a bowl of warmed soup into Cas's hands and eyed Cas cautiously. He'd stopped crying, but his eyes were still blurry and he was sniffling every once in a while. He wasn't looking at Dean. but his gaze was no longer scarily blank and distant. He made no move to eat. "Cas, c'mon. Just eat a little bit. Did you eat lunch?"
Cas shook his head slowly.
"And you haven't eaten dinner," Dean pointed out. "I know you're not hungry, but you have to eat. I don't want you passing out while I'm driving. If you hit your head and get blood on my seat I'll never forgive you."
Cas managed a dry, strained smile and stirred the broth with his spoon.
Dean returned to packing their bag, but watched Cas out of the corner of his eye. Cas chewed on his bottom lip and considered the soup as if the answers to the universe were written on the bottom of the bowl. After a few moments, he spooned some broth into his mouth.
"When will Sam be home?" Cas spoke up, breaking the companionable silence.
Dean's shoulders tensed and he closed his eyes briefly. He was sort of hoping Cas would remember the phone conversation, so he wouldn't have to break the news. Cas must have complete phased out. "Uh, he'll be home soon. But, uh...he's not coming down to Kansas."
"What?" Cas asked, his eyebrows drawing together. He didn't sound upset, just confused, like he thought he hadn't heard Dean right.
"Sam's not coming to the funeral," Dean repeated sharply, not turning to look at Cas. He couldn't handle seeing Cas's expression crumple when he understood what Dean was saying. "He doesn't want to miss his classes. He's staying here."
"Oh," Cas said softly. "Okay."
Dean wasn't surprised at the lack of reaction, but it nonetheless sent a pain through his chest.
"We can leave whenever you're ready," Dean said, hefting the packed bag onto his shoulder and turning to Cas. The bowl of soup was on his lap, and Dean was pleased to see that Cas had managed to eat some of it, at least.
"I...yeah, we can go," Cas nodded, rising to his feet unsteadily. He placed the bowl on the bedside table and faltered suddenly, the room spinning. He gripped the bed frame until the dizzy spell passed and took a few deep breaths. "Okay. I'm okay."
"Don't forget your laptop," Dean reminded him gruffly.
Cas nodded and turned around in circles a few times, unsure of where he'd left the case. Everything between Peter's phone call and crying in Dean's arms was a blur. He caught sight of the bag on the living room couch and retrieved it, having the mind to check that the charger was stuck in the front pocket. He was missing class for the first half of the week, and he had to have some way to keep up with his schoolwork.
He followed Dean out of the apartment, locking the door behind them, and trailed after him down the stairs. He stood to the side as Dean hefted the duffle bag into the Impala and handed Dean his computer bag so Dean could put it in the back as well.
He glanced up at the sound of a car pulling into the small parking lot and recognized it as Dave Green's black Mercedes. He froze and found that he couldn't bring himself to look away.
Dave jumped out of the car and went to pull Sam's door open before Sam got out. Sam climbed out of the car and smiled at Dave.
Dave grinned down at him and pecked Sam's lips lightly, brushing his fingers over Sam's cheek gently.
Cas flinched, and the small movement caught Dave's attention. He saw Cas watching, grinned more widely, and kissed Sam again. Cas set his jaw and gritted his teeth. Dave pressed Sam against the car and slid his hands down Sam's back, deepening the kiss.
Dean cursed under his breath and slammed the car door closed. The noise startled Sam and he pressed his hands against Dave's chest to push him away. He saw Dean and Cas watching him from the Impala and his heart sank.
Dean was obviously at the end of his rope, tired and overwhelmed. He was still in his clothes from the shop; grease stained jeans and a dirty t-shirt under his canvas jacket. Sam had heard Cas crying on the other end of the phone and realized Dean would have had to try to comfort him, and that was a little too touchy feely for Dean to be comfortable with. Cas looked away when Sam tried to make eye contact and crossed his arms over his chest protectively. He looked incredibly small and vulnerable standing in the dim glow of the streetlight wearing a sweater that fell loosely to halfway down his thighs and worn dark jeans. He scuffed his battered boots on the cracked pavement, shifting his weight nervously. He was pale and the red rims around his sharp blue eyes were pronounced and obvious. Sam's heart clenched when he looked at him, guilt curling through his chest and twining tightly around his stomach.
"Last chance, Sam," Dean called, gripping Cas's arm to push him into the passenger's seat. Cas didn't fight it and obligingly collapsed into the car, rubbing the sleeve of his sweater over his eyes. "You still have time to pack a bag."
Sam hesitated for a moment. He winced when he felt Dave's hand tighten painfully around his wrist. "I...no. I can't, Dean. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Cas."
"Don't talk to him," Dean snapped at Sam, slamming Cas's door shut. "You've said enough, Sam."
"Dean, you don't understand," Sam crossed his arms over his chest. "I have a life, a partner, a future career to prepare for. I can't just up and go."
"What are you saying?" Dean asked lowly, his tone dangerous and challenging. "That I'm less important because I don't have that stuff?"
"Well, you don't," Sam raised his eyebrows. "You can take a day off at the shop, it's not like the place will shut down without you there, it's not like it will affect your future. And I'm sure your girlfriends will be fine without you for three days."
"Maybe I don't have a girlfriend, or a 'life', or a career to prepare for because I've been so busy taking care of you," Dean said harshly, striding around to the driver's side and yanking the door open. He ignored the barb in his chest that Sam's harsh words left. "You and Cas are my life, Sam, in case you haven't noticed." He paused and shook his head, running a hand through his short hair. He added softly, "Have a great fucking time with your 'friends' and your boyfriend and see if I care."
He pulled the door shut, hard, and turned the car on, determinedly ignoring Sam's dark eyes on him. He gunned it out of the parking lot, his jaw set as he said something to Cas that made the dark haired man lift his head from his hands and shoot Dean a disapproving look.
Sam stared after the car, feeling a lump forming in the back of his throat.
He felt Dave's arms wrap around his waist and pull him close to press his back against Dave's chest. Dave kissed the top of his head and rubbed Sam's arms soothingly. He moved his lips to the blossoming bruise on Sam's cheek and smiled against Sam's damaged skin when he felt Sam turn into him and clutch desperately at his jacket as his brother and the freak put more and more distance between them.
So there it is! I hope you liked it:)
Leave a review if you've got a minute, I really appreciate them. Let me know what you think of it so far.
Thanks for reading.
