Warnings for this chapter - mentions of drug use, suicide attempts, past sexual and physical abuse.
Cas was so upset by the time he reached his own neighborhood, he drove right past his house. Cursing, he turned the Continental around and found his own driveway. He'd gone to the pawn shop on the way home and was now $2500 poorer, but he figured it was worth it to have Dean's treasures safe in his trunk.
The disappointed look on that thieving pawn shop's owner face hadn't hurt, either.
As he hefted his duffle, the sky rumbled, the first drops of rain hitting as he unlocked his front door. Cas's cell buzzed in his pocket.
A really tall, really grumpy looking dude just paid off the back payments on Dean's mortgage. He paid the next payment, too.
Sam, Dean's brother, Cas texted back.
Ooohhhhhh, Charlie responded. He could practically hear her voice in the long, drawn out text. Are you ok?
Not really.
Want me to come over after work?
No. I'm ok. I think I just need to be alone.
Things went bad, then? :(
Extremely.
I'm sorry, Cas.
Me too. Talk later.
Cas dragged his duffel downstairs to the laundry room and dumped all his clothes into the washer without sorting or pulling the clean items out. He hung his garment bag on the rod and wandered back upstairs to the living room. Collapsing wearily on the couch, he stared at the pile of albums neatly stacked next to the turntable.
His heart hurt.
Cas sat for a long time, not sure what to do with himself. He'd planned to work, then spend the day with Dean and now he had an entire afternoon free. It was barely noon.
"Fuck it, I'll just clean," he mumbled and that's what he did. Starting upstairs, Cas dusted, vacuumed, and washed everything that sat still long enough, working his way downstairs. All the bedding in both the guest and master bedrooms got washed, rugs went outside to air, every piece of furniture was dusted or waxed, and when all of that was done, it was only six, so he went outside and weeded all the flower beds.
He dropped a Jim Croce album Dean had given him and drank a few shots of Jack Daniels when he was done. The music made him sad, however, and it was only a few songs in before he shut it off. Exhaustion hit around nine, and he happily collapsed into bed, grateful to not have to waste any more effort on thinking.
Except he couldn't sleep.
Cas lay awake for a long time, muscles aching from the hard work, staring at the ceiling and wishing for sleep. He just couldn't get Dean off his mind. He couldn't get Dean's broken expression and hopeless eyes to leave him alone. Dean's face kept swimming in front of him in the dark, and Cas had to fight every urge he had to get in the Continental and drive across town.
Frustrated, he tossed and turned most of the night, dozing off and on until dawn, when he finally admitted defeat and dragged himself from bed. He had cold cereal for breakfast, and showered after, heading out do his grocery shopping for the week once he was dressed.
Pulling into his driveway later, he was extremely surprised to find Sam Winchester sitting on his front porch. Dean's brother tossed him an awkward wave, joining him at the car to help with the groceries.
"Hey! I uh, just wanted to come talk to you. I feel really bad about yesterday and I felt like I owed you an explanation because I came on really strong and I know you must think I am a grade A jerk right about now," Sam explained, reaching into the passenger seat to get a few bags. "But it's ok if you don't want to talk to me, I mean, I could turn around and leave and," he sighed, "I'm babbling."
"It's alright. Would you like to come in? I'll make some coffee."
"Coffee sounds good." Sam smiled earnestly at him, looking rather young all of sudden. He trotted up the stairs after Cas, holding the screen door so Castiel could unlock the front door. They made inane small talk about the weather while Cas put his groceries away and made coffee. "So, Dean told me what he told you - about being depressed, and being an addict, and about all the other crap about my parents' deaths. I was kinda surprised. He doesn't really tell anyone that, so he must really like you."
"Imagine that," Cas said drily.
Sam winced. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I was harsh yesterday, and you didn't deserve that. Just he's been through so much and if something had happened, I would have - I would have never forgiven myself. I should have been checking on him, I should have come to visit, instead of just taking his constants "I'm ok's" at face value. He's not ok. At all."
"I know. I just wish I'd have seen it sooner."
"Would you have hesitated to get involved with him if you had?"
Cas frowned. "I'm not that shallow, Sam."
"Not what I meant. I'm sorry - it's just that you're only his second relationship and I wouldn't even call the first one a relationship to begin with. That's entirely too generous and more than that fucker deserves." He caught Cas's raised eyebrow. "Guess you want to know about that."
"Not if you don't want to tell me," Cas replied, sipping his coffee.
"Do you know about Dean's album?"
"Wildflower?"
"Yeah. Man, it was good. Really good. I thought he was going to be the next big thing, but his manager - bastard named Alistair - he sunk his teeth into Dean, moved him out to LA, and basically held him hostage for months. It was bad. I couldn't call him, he couldn't call us. Bobby, the guy who raised us after Dad - y'know - always beat himself up for not going after Dean sooner."
"What happened?"
"Drugs, alcohol, sex - you name it. We get a call from a nurse one day after Dean ended up in the hospital. Jerk shoved him down the stairs, broke his ribs, broke his wrist, gave him a concussion. He'd apparently been knocking Dean around for quite a while at that point. We went and got him, brought him home. He was fucked up. Addicted to heroin, booze, it was bad. Bobby ended up having to put him in rehab. Again."
Cas stood and fetched the coffee pot, refilling both their cups while Sam continued to ramble.
"He got hooked after Dad died, he's tried to kill himself a couple of times, and then Alistair, guess he realized Dean was easier to control all fucked up on booze and drugs - Cas, what I need you to understand is that no matter how hardass I come off, I have to protect him. That's my priority. And if something had happened to him -" Sam swallowed audibly.
"He had me."
"I know. I know he did. He told me. I'm sorry that I didn't realize how important you were to him, or how much he cares about you, but you have to understand. The only other relationship he's ever been in was so god awful abusive - hell, I didn't even know if he was capable of having a relationship. And I know what you're thinking, that I shouldn't doubt my brother, and I don't, I swear, but I worry. Because he saved me. He saved me and he practically raised me when my dad wasn't able, and I owe him everything. And even though I'm married now, I've got Jess, and my life is good - my life would be so dead without Dean in it. I got lazy. I got lazy and I wasn't checking on him, and every time I called and he said, yeah, I'm good, I'm ok, I bought it."
"He says you want to take him away."
"I want to move him back to LA. There's an inpatient facility with a huge success rate. I just want him to be healthy, I want him to look in the mirror and not hate the guy staring back." He set his coffee mug on the table. "He wants to come back when he's done, though. I hope you guys can at least stay friends, but I'm pretty sure he wants more than that. And you guys can write to each other while he's inpatient."
"I'm willing to wait for him. Dean is utterly and completely worth it."
Sam smiled. "He really did find a winner this time, didn't he?"
Cas flushed. "I think uh - I think I found the winner."
Leaning back in his chair, Sam dug in his pocket and pulled out a sparkly guitar keychain with a single key hanging off of it. "After talking to you, I feel completely comfortable leaving this with you."
Puzzled, Cas picked up the key and studied it.
"It's the key to Dean's building. When he gets back, we're going to have to pack it up and likely sell everything, but I'm going to pay the mortgage until then. I make a shit ton of money, and so does my wife, and we don't really spend it. We're boring. We live in a tiny house and drive old cars and keep adopting mutts. Boring. So I can handle his mortgage for a few months. Anyway, I'd appreciate it if you could look after the place for me, make sure no one breaks in and any needed maintenance is done." Sam set a piece of paper and a business card on the table. "And that's all the ways you can contact me, should you need more money or anything. I set up an account at your bank and the utilities will be automatically debited every month, so no worries about that either. Is this ok with you?"
"I'd be honored. I'm grateful that you trust me with this."
"I'm grateful he has someone in his life he can trust, because he doesn't trust anyone anymore. Anyone that's not family. But since I've been here, he's mentioned you more times than I can count, and a Charlie, who I think I met at the bank, Jo, Aaron, and a few others. I've never heard him mention friends before. So that's a positive, too."
"We have a LARP group. Dean fit right in."
"Oh yeah, he used to LARP all the time. Wow, he really has a life here. If he can just find a job when he gets back -"
"My friend Ash owns an auto shop. Dean said he's good with cars."
"He's more than good. He has his ASE. Went to tech school and everything."
"I'm sure Ash can find a place for him then. If not, I know Benny at the diner is looking for help. He has options."
"That's great!" Sam looked at his watch. "I gotta go. We've got to get packed."
"I was hoping to see him again before you left."
"I don't know," Sam said as he stood. "He's been a little fragile. It might be easier if he just saw you when we got back."
"I understand," Cas said, even as his heart broke. He'd give anything to see Dean before they left.
"Anyway. I'll be in touch. Thanks for everything." Sam patted Cas's shoulder and let himself out, leaving Cas sitting at the table and staring into space.
The day dragged after Sam's visit. Cas couldn't bring himself to play any records, his emotions already too raw. He started a pot of spaghetti sauce, letting it simmer throughout the day. Around six, he let himself out the back door to retrieve basil and oregano from his garden, almost tripping over Dean seated on the deck stairs.
"What are you doing here?" he blurted, startled.
Dean flushed. "I wanted to come say goodbye, but I suck at goodbyes, and I ended up just sitting here because I lost the nerve to knock. I'm pathetic."
"No you're not," Cas sighed, settling in beside him. He wrapped an arm around Dean's shoulders, pleased when he didn't flinch away. "I'm happy to see you. I'm glad you came by. Can you stay for dinner?"
"Yeah. Not leaving until noon and I told Sam I was coming over."
"He was ok with that?"
"He likes you. You must have made a hell of an impression."
"I like him, too. He cares so deeply for you."
"Too much, sometimes."
Silence fell between them, as they watched a couple of blue jays screech and chase each other through the dappled sunlight streaming through the trees in Cas's backyard.
"I smell garlic," Dean said.
"All day spaghetti sauce. I'd just stepped outside to get basil and oregano, which I promptly forgot when I almost tripped over you."
Dean chuckled. "Guess we better go get that, then?"
"Yes. Come on."
Letting Cas lead him out to the garden, Dean admired the flowers while Cas snipped herb stems. He stopped near Cas's pride and joy, a Mr. Lincoln rosebush. "This is beautiful," he said softly, reverently dragging his fingers down a velvety, blood red petal.
"That was my sister's favorite rose. I raised that bush from cuttings I took from her plants."
"Was?"
Cas frowned. "Anna died when I was thirteen. Leukemia. My family just kind of fell apart after that, and when I came out at nineteen, they disowned me. Gabriel is the only one I still have any type of relationship with. I have regrets," Cas told him, standing and brushing the dirt from his hands. "My father wanted to make amends, but I denied him, and he died before I got over myself."
The sun caught in Dean's green eyes as he looked at Cas over the heads of tall purple and white cosmos. "So I'm not the only one with the fucked up backstory."
"No, you're not. But it's fair to say that yours is a bit more devastating."
Dean chuckled bitterly, fingers still playing with the rose petals. "Devastating. That's accurate. I guess Sam told you everything, huh?"
"The reader's' digest version, I believe." Cas gathered the herb stems and stepped carefully over rows of plants to stand beside Dean, smiling at him as a honey bee buzzed lazily around his head. "I think the bee thinks you're some type of strange blue flower," he teased, chuckling a bit more as second bee joined his fellow.
"Maybe they want to hang with the ones on my neck?" Dean mused.
Cas kissed Dean's cheek. "Come on, come help me finish dinner. It's the last time we'll see each other for a while. Let's make the most of it."
Dean turned his head and caught Cas's lips, leaving a sweet kiss behind. "Ok," he whispered.
"Go ahead and drain that, it should be done."
Dean nodded and lifted the pasta pot from the stove, dumping the contents into the strainer sitting in the sink. "God that sauce smells incredible."
"I'm glad you came over," Cas told him, taking the strainer from him. "I would have made all this food and it would've sat and gone bad."
"Hey, I don't think I can eat that much," Dean grinned.
Cas stirred the pasta into the sauce and handed the bowl to Dean. "Set that on the table and I'll grab the bread."
"Alright."
They settled at the table and Cas poured tall glasses of iced tea for them both. They ate in companionable silence, one handed, since Dean decided to weave their fingers together halfway through the meal. Sweet smiles were traded back and forth, though they didn't talk much.
After, they worked together to clear the mess, and a heavy, charged silence weighed in the air between them. Cas didn't know what would happen next - if Dean would stay or leave, if they would talk, if they'd just hang out. Furthermore, he didn't know what he wanted, other than wanting Dean to stay.
"Do you have to rush off?" he asked as they put the last of the dishes away.
"Not really. I could stay awhile. I feel like I should tell you a little more about myself anyway."
"You don't have to. When you come back -"
"No, Cas. I think when I tell you all this crap, you'll need time to think. I'd rather give you that time while I'm gone."
"Alright." He led Dean out to the living room, shutting off the kitchen lights as they went.
Dean crossed the room to the turntable as Cas sat on the couch. He flipped through the albums, smiling as he found Winchester's Rifle. "Honestly kinda surprised you didn't figure me out sooner," he said softly, sliding the LP from the sleeve.
"Mary. Eyes so bright and beautiful. Mary. Light of my life, love of my soul. The fire of your love keeps me warm at night. Mary, Mary, baby, you shine so bright."
"You can hear how much your father loved her."
"He did. He really did. She was everything to him. I think he died that day, too, y'know? Just took him twelve years to finish the job."
Dean settled on the couch beside Cas, and they listened to the album for a bit, Dean humming along to the next track, Open Road Lovesong.
"Alastair was good to me at first," Dean said quietly. "Treated me like a king. I dunno. I guess it was more part of the whole control thing he had going on. He'd buy me really nice stuff, like a Rolex, Armani clothes, whatever. I realize now it was more about getting me to wear what he wanted than treating me nice. He used to tell me I deserved to be spoiled, that I was talented and gorgeous and I ate it up. I think in a lot of ways, I was starving for affection. And he gave it to me, in his own twisted, fucked up way. I was nineteen, Cas. I was a virgin, and fucking mental health mess, I must've had a neon sign over my head." Dean rubbed the palms of his hands over his jean clad thighs.
Cas stayed quiet, instinct telling him that Dean needed to get this off his chest, and that the best thing he could do was sit and listen.
"Anyway, one night we're at a bar and he's grinding on me and stuff. He got me pretty drunk - in retrospect, he probably dropped a roofie or something in my drink - he was fifty-four and I was fucking nineteen, and I woke up in bed with him the next morning, naked and sore. I should have said something then. But he'd hold me in his arms and tell me how much he wanted me, how perfect I was - and I ate it up. I moved in with him, despite my Uncle Bobby telling me it was a bad idea. Moved out to LA, away from what little family I had. The album released and Wildflower did really good. Everywhere we went, it was on the radio. Al would say, this is it, Deano, you're the next big thing.
"But then, I started fighting back. I didn't like the clothes he was buying for me. They just weren't my style. I didn't like the demands he was putting on the people setting up the tour. They weren't my demands. I didn't like the fact he prevented me from having contact with my baby brother. I didn't like being stuck in his house with no way to get out and go places. I started drinking. A lot. And then I got my hands on the fucking heroin again. It was easy for him after that. I'd do anything for another fix and he knew it, used it against me. He'd get me so blissed out and high and then I'd have little snatches of clarity, moments when I'd realize he was on top of me and I didn't want him there. I'd fight back." Dean sighed and dropped his head into his hands. "He started hitting me and I was so fucking shocked, I just took it. He'd get me high, fuck me, hit me when I fought back," he muttered, voice muffled. "I let him do that to me. I let him convince me I was worthless without him. What kind of pathetic -" he trailed off.
"You weren't pathetic," Cas assured him. "You were young, depressed, impressionable, and he knew just which buttons to push to control you. He used you, Dean. You're lucky you got out alive. You've overcome so much, you are so remarkable, so wonderful, and you just can't see it. At the end of the day, that's what breaks my heart about you. That you can't see the beautiful soul you really are."
Dean's eyes filled, tears threatening to spill out. "I don't know why you think I'm so great," he murmured.
"Because you are. You're one of the best things that ever happened to me, and if you think I'm not willing to wait for you, you're wrong. I'll wait," he told him, reaching for his hand and kissing Dean's knuckles. "I'll wait as long as you need me to."
"I've never even slept with anyone other than you and him. What if I can't keep you satisfied?"
"Guess what? I'm asexual. I don't usually experience sexual attraction to begin with, but you - you changed everything for me. Full disclosure? I was a virgin until you."
"But you - you seemed to know what you were doing, and you said that it had been a long time -" Dean stammered.
"We were caught up in the moment and I was too embarrassed to admit I was a virgin. I'm almost forty, after all. And I do watch porn. I do get off. I'm not completely uneducated," Cas chuckled. "I'll be honest, Dean," Cas said, his voice dropping a few octaves, "I've got it bad for you. The things you do to me, the things you make me feel," he kissed Dean's hand again, "it's exhilarating. And in all the ways that count, we were each other's firsts."
"But I wasn't -"
"Yes, you were. I was the first you chose. The first you slept with out of love. And you were my first everything. We are each other's firsts, Dean." Watching arousal darken Dean's eyes, Cas closed the slight distance between them and kissed him. When he pulled back from the kiss, Dean's cheeks were flushed and he was breathing a bit harder. "I'm sorry, Dean. Maybe this isn't the best time and I shouldn't have mmmph!"
Dean cut him off with a passionate kiss of his own, pushing closer into Cas's space. His hands landed on Cas's waist as he moved closer, the kiss growing more heated and aggressive.
"Dean, I -"
"Ssh," Dean breathed against his lips. "It's our last night for a while. Take me to bed, give me something to remember. Please."
Cas's hands found Dean's cheeks and pulled him tight, as he took control of the kiss, sliding his tongue between Dean's lips.
Somehow, they managed to stumble up the stairs, dropping articles of clothing along the way, Dean letting loose a carefree laugh as they tumbled onto Cas's bed, more or less naked. Cas's boxers were still trapped around his one leg, and Dean was still in possession of one white crew sock, but their bodies were enticingly bare as Cas pressed Dean into the mattress.
"What do you want?" he asked breathlessly. "Tell me what to do."
"Fuck me."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. God, Cas, you feel so good when you do that. Please, I need it." He kissed Cas's neck, his lips hot against his skin. "Need it," he said again.
Leaning forward slightly, Cas dug blindly through his nightstand drawer, fumbling for the bottle he hoped and prayed was still there. Dean kept distracting him with wet kisses along his neck, his hands drawing patterns across his spine. Cheering when he found it, Cas slid back down, lips finding Dean's again.
"I just want to make sure this is what you want, because we could do it the other way. You could fuck me," Cas told him.
Dean's eyes darkened a bit more. "Really?"
"Yes."
"I've never done that before. I mean -" he flushed. "Alastair was all top, all the time."
"I'm not Alastair," Cas said firmly.
"No. No, you're definitely not." Dean thought about it for a second. "When I come back, ok? Because right now - I just need to feel you. I want to fidget on the plane tomorrow and think about what we did, feel what we did. If that's ok?"
"Of course, beautiful." Setting the bottle aside for the moment, Cas kissed and licked a trail down Dean's chest. "You want something to remember? I'm going to give you something to remember." He sucked Dean into the back of his throat without another word.
Gasping, Dean's hands shot into Cas's hair, fingers weaving into the strands. The tug and slight pain fueled Cas's own arousal, and he drove his hips into the bed as he increased suction. Dean writhed beneath him, chanting his name on every labored exhale. He reached for the bottle he'd left beside Dean's leg. "Hand me a pillow," he growled at Dean, grinning to himself when it landed gracelessly on his head. "Lift your hips."
Shaking a bit, Dean complied, and Cas shoved the pillow beneath him. His legs fell open, exposing everything to Cas's appreciative eyes. His rosy pink entrance was right there, and without another thought, Cas leaned back in and dragged his tongue across it.
"Oooh, fuck!" Dean all but screamed, and Cas clamped his hands on Dean's inner thighs, spreading him open and holding him down. He swirled his tongue around the tight ring of muscle, coaxing it to open. Pointing his tongue, he pushed inside as Dean fell apart above him.
"Oh god, Cas. God. I can't - oh fuck. Oh fuck." Dean babbled helplessly and Cas smiled against him, keeping the sweet torture going. "How did you - where did you -"
"I told you," Cas popped his head up and grinned at Dean. "I watched a lot of porn." He dipped his head and swallowed Dean again, as his fingers retrieved the lube bottle. Keeping Dean distracted, he lubed his fingers and started opening Dean up.
He was so responsive; everything Cas did made him cry out, moan, whimper. The noises Dean made were intoxicating, and served to spur Cas on, to make him want to bring Dean even greater pleasure.
"Fuck, I'm so close. I'm so close."
Looking up through his eyelashes, Cas grinned. "Come," he ordered, taking Dean back into his mouth.
Dean's hips slammed into Cas's jaw as he came, flooding Cas's mouth with the salty, bitter taste of come, his first taste ever. He sucked Dean through it, soaking up the noises he seemed helpless to hold back. Reaching down between the mattress and his own body, Cas tightened his grip around the base of his dick, unwilling to let go just yet - although he definitely could have.
Above him, Dean had gone limp and still against the bed, his chest heaving and a thin layer of sweat coating his freckled skin. Slowly kissing his way back up Dean's body, he lifted his legs and helped Dean wrap them around his waist before slowly sinking into the open and waiting body beneath him.
Dean's fingers dug into his shoulders as Cas fully sheathed himself inside the heat of Dean's body. "I don't know if I can come again," he murmured. "But fuck, you feel so good, Cas. So good."
Cas smiled and kissed him, thrusting a few times before he was helplessly coming as well, face buried in Dean's neck. "I was going to - I wanted to make you come again, but I went sooner than I wanted to. I wanted it to be perfect. So you'd have that something to remember," he muttered.
"It was perfect," Dean whispered. "You're perfect."
They lay there, entwined in each other, waiting out their pounding hearts.
"Do you have to go?" Cas asked softly.
"Not just yet."
A few moments later, Cas reluctantly pulled out, going to his bathroom for a washrag. Dean surprised him by following him, and they ended up in the shower instead, gently washing the mess from each other's bodies. Wrapped in towels, they tumbled back into bed, trading soft kisses as they lay with their hands joined.
Cas fell asleep. He didn't mean to. But morning came, and he woke up alone in his sunny bedroom.
He hadn't even gotten to say goodbye.
Rolling to his side, he found one of his perfect Mr. Lincoln roses on the pillow beside him, underneath a folded piece of paper.
Dear Cas,
I'm shit at goodbyes. I should have woken you up and told you goodbye, but I wussed out. I picked this rose for you, from your garden, and I kinda feel like a jerk for that, too, since it's your sister's rose and all. Anyway. I left something for you on the turntable downstairs. Please don't let anything happen to it. It's the only one I have left.
I love you.
I don't know if that means anything in the current state of mental health (or lack thereof) that I'm in at the moment, but there it is. I love you. And I've never loved anyone else. This is kind of a big thing for me.
Sam says I'll be able to write to you, and I will. I'll send my address as soon as I can.
So until we see each other again, I love you. I'll be thinking of you.
Love,
Dean
