One song is referenced here, and it's #32: Manamadurai

7. Nishaadam

Cas is sitting up on Dean's bed when he enters, smiling, and when Dean goes to settle in next to him, he pulls Dean in for a kiss. Dean returns it, and dammit, if his heart doesn't flutter like every other fucking time, as if he's a schoolboy experiencing his first kiss.

He relishes the warm wetness of Cas's lips, holding it in the way he likes to hold in a drag from his cigarette, like an addiction, like elixir to his senses. Then he breaks apart and faces Cas, taking in his boyfriend, going on to hold both of Cas's hands in his.

"Hey. You better?"

Cas nods, expression turning pleading as he squeezes Dean's hands. He has a vulnerability about him: something that Dean's never seen before, and it's not nice to see it now. He wishes he could help Cas somehow, even if he can't understand what's happening here, but he can't make false promises.

"Dean," Cas whispers, and in the partial darkness, Dean thinks he sees tears glistening in Cas's eyes. His heart sinks into his stomach.

"I know, buddy," Dean replies. "I trust you and since you don't want me to, I won't ask. I can't tell you it's a hundred percent, but I will try."

Cas squeezes his hands twice more and nods, understanding. Dean takes a deep breath, looks at his messy but welcoming bed. "You wanna hit the hay now? Your girls are fast asleep, by the way. I kept the crate open so they can use the litter box if they need to. And I'll keep the door open so they can come slap you if they need food."

Cas frowns, but it soon turns into a smile.

Dean chuckles, too. "Dude, listen, they're yours," he says. "I ain't sacrificing my sleep just so I can listen to them mewing at fuck o'clock in the morning."

"I get it," Cas signs back in reply and suddenly, the glisten of tears is gone, and Dean raises a hand, running a finger over the crinkles on the corner of Cas's eyes, admiring the shadows they cast from the moonlight.

Cas tilts his head slightly but doesn't protest Dean's touching. "You have them, too, you know," he signs.

"I know," Dean replies. "But yours are sexy."

"You're strange, Dean."

"Oh, you're telling me," Dean scoffs, then takes his finger off Cas's face to sign, "Do you even know how weird you are?"

"I never countered that," Cas replies, smile turning wider, all teeth and gums. God, he's beautiful, his face half silver, half shadows and everything that Dean loves. The stubble, the sharp jaw, the hair that's standing everywhere. And it's just… it's there. It's all just there. Everything that Dean loves, all just this one dude, Cas.

God, Cas. His Cas.

Dean's mind, heart, and soul are all on overdrive, enchanted at this one dude, this one fucking dude, and Dean's just…

Dean ends up saying it.

He ends up saying it right there, on his shaggy bed with Sam in the other room, with his messy life looming over them, in the moonlight, the dead of the night to some dude he met on Grindr whom he now loves, loves so much.

"Cas?"

Cas blinks, tilts his head once more, and Dean can't even get himself to think further.

"Cas," he says again because he isn't sure once was enough. "Marry me."

He doesn't know what Cas is thinking, doesn't even know Cas does think, because the moment the words are out of his mouth there's a loud crash from Sam's room, getting both Dean and Cas to their feet and rushing out of the door.

~o~

Sam couldn't get rid of the weird gassy pain even with Dean's activated charcoal, so he'd sat down reading on his bed for a while, hoping for the gas or acidity or whatever it was to resolve somehow. He'd had no luck, though, so he lay down. He thought he'd felt better then, and everything seemed all right until he got thirsty and made the mistake of getting up from his bed.

He'd been feeling achy and sore since the evening, off and generally unwell, but he hadn't expected the dizziness to strike him the moment he stood up, or even the dull pain in his right side. And that's all he remembers when Dean's voice echoes in his ears, his brother's face wavering into his vision from the darkness.

"Sammy?!"

Sam blinks, tries to say Dean's name, but there's a sudden pressure on his chest and he struggles to get up.

"Sam!" Dean tries to keep him lying down but Sam pushes him away with all the strength he has and gets to his feet, stumbling and trembling and barely able to keep his balance.

A pair of arms support him. "Sammy, what's going on, dude?" Dean asks him, trying to sound calm, but Sam clutches on to the wall and gets himself into the hallway. His stomach lurches and his gorge rises, bringing the strength Sam doesn't possess to propel him towards the kitchen, where he grips the counter and dips his head into the sink to puke.

It lasts too long. He's sweating bullets and he feels like he's going to pass out right in the middle of throwing up. Tears drip out of his eyes, there's vomit in his hair and the retching is so violent, it makes his head pound and muscles cramp. It's pure agony.

Somewhere in the middle of it all, Sam feels Dean and Cas pushing him down to sit on a chair and he does, but he has to puke again before he can even thank them. Dean holds a wet towel to his forehead and Cas gathers his hair back, both of them keeping their free hands on Sam's back, trying to help him as much as they can. Sam tries to make sense of it, tries to stop vomiting but he can't, and his head feels like it's floating off his body and God…

"S…my?"

He's on the floor. He opens sticky eyes and there are two Deans and everything is on fire. Someone's calling out to him again but he doesn't… he can't.

Sirens blare in the distance and there's a beep beep beep and he's not sure anymore. He thinks someone might be dying—that he should tell Dean about it… maybe he can help… God, his head.

It isn't until he hears an oddly familiar sob, a wrecked voice, that he realises that he's the one who's dying.

~o~

Dean blinks at Cas's door for a couple of minutes, trying to get rid of his sleep-deprived stupor before he rings the doorbell. He hears a shuffling from inside and stands back, knowing Cas is on his way.

It's been three days since the whole clusterfuck with Sam getting suddenly and badly sick, a nightmarish episode that had Dean calling an ambulance and their mom panicking about Sam's condition. The paramedics had found something Dean hadn't noticed—Sam's gums were yellowing, a subtle sign of jaundice, and they had no idea why that was. Sam's been in the hospital ever since, getting yellower and worse and the doctor has a hunch, Mom has a hunch, but they wouldn't say what it was until they ran all the tests.

Until today.

Through all of this Cas had stayed by Sam and Dean's side stubbornly until Dean kicked him out last night and asked him to get some sleep. The diagnosis was made final this morning and Dean's come back to check on Cas and… honestly, he just wants to kiss Cas, maybe sit with him as he plays his violin and play with the kittens. He'll do anything for a distraction at this point. He doesn't want to face what he's just been told.

Cas opens the door and Dean wants to smile at him, maybe lean in for a kiss, but a glance at him is enough to crumble something inside of Dean, bringing the tears streaming, and he doesn't know, doesn't know where to go from here, doesn't know how to pull himself and his family out of this shitstorm.

"Dean," Cas whispers, gripping Dean's wrist to pull him in and God, this is so embarrassing. Dean brings up the heels of his palms to wipe at his eyes, sniffing, and he looks up at Cas.

"Sorry," he says.

"You have nothing to apologise for," Cas signs to him. "How is Sam?"

Dean takes a deep breath, pulls back his sleeve to reveal the white, square sterile tape on the crook of his elbow.

"You got a blood test?" Cas asks him.

Dean shakes his head. "No… I mean—yeah. Yeah. They, um… I got myself tested for Sam. His… he was given some kind of inhalational agent… halothione or whatever, and… it's, um, it's screwed his liver up and his f-friend… uh, Charlie, she had a milder version but Sammy's got something in his genes." He takes a breath, but it trembles. "Basically, he needs a new liver and I guess now we gotta see who can give it to him."

Dean can't get himself to go on. Cas's eyes widen and there is utter silence, the false cheer spread by early morning bird sounds audible between them, like they're some paradoxical harbingers of death and grief and everything else that Dean feels churning inside of him.

He looks away, looks away from Cas because he can't do this. He can't—he doesn't know how to. And Cas… Cas is probably gonna hate him for what he is about to say next. But he needs to get it out there and he needs to lay it down so Cas knows, and…

"Cas, I'm sorry," he says again.

Cas is about to sign in reply, about to tell him he shouldn't be sorry—or something of that sort, but Dean catches his hands and brings them down. "No, Cas," he says, "I'm… I'm sorry because I can't do it. I can't not fight for this and I can't stop them—I don't want to stop them from putting Roman in prison."

Dean's words are followed by silence again but this one is not like the last. This one crackles, buzzes with energy from Cas, and Dean knows Cas and he had thought Cas would say it's okay, that it was the right thing to do, but he doesn't expect what happens next.

He isn't prepared for Cas to step away from him, like he's poison, corrupt—like Cas can't even be near him anymore, like they never loved each other or held each other in the darkest of nights.

"Cas," Dean pleads, but Cas shakes his head, striding to his table, pulling out the violin case that's always been there, the one they don't talk about. He opens it and inside is a beautiful violin, all wood and strings and melody, and on the chin rest there is a carving.

CN

GN

Dean stares at it and he has no clue what he's looking at. However, before he can ask, before he can even speak, Cas snatches the violin out of its case, only to unearth what looks like bills upon bills that fly out aimlessly, scattering everywhere just like everything else in Dean's life, and they're not money either.

He doesn't even have time to stop Cas from walking out of his own home, violin in hand and tears streaming down his face, and he doesn't have to do anything else to make himself clearer. Because Dean knows now that it's over between them.

~o~

"Gabriel Novak."

The name has been etched into his brain for two days now. Two days since Cas walked away, two days since Dean found Gabriel's name in fading ink on one of the many bills on Cas's floor. It was for a local nursing home that aids long-term patient care, and Dean had driven there to find Gabriel Novak, a thin, drawn man hooked up to machines, alive only scientifically, and apparently this way for about three years now.

Gabriel Novak. Cas's brother. The family he never mentioned.

That's when he'd realised why Cas never got any money for the bioweapon fuck up. He's being compensated in another way. And now that Roman and his cronies are going to trial…

"Dean."

Sam's voice distracts Dean from his train of thought, pulling him back, and Sam gives him an exhausted glance from his hospital bed.

"Dean," he says again, "let it go."

Dean takes a look at his sick, yellowing brother with his bad blood counts and terminal illness, still here to forgive the guy who wants his assaulters to go scot free.

He raises an eyebrow. "Are you really going to say that me?"

"Yeah," says Sam. "Let it go, man. It's done."

"As if that's my choice… letting go," Dean scoffs. "He's the one who let go, remember?"

"And you're gonna be mad at him forever now?"

Dean shakes his head, narrowing his eyes. "Are you listening to yourself, Sam? Are you understanding what Cas wanted?"

Sam scratches at his nose and shifts in his bed, the starchy hospital sheets rustling under him. He is quiet for a whole minute, his eyes just focussed on Dean, and Dean's starting to get seriously weirded out now. He wants to look away, but he can almost hear Sam's thoughts and he hates this. He hates that his brother might be right, but he isn't going to give Sam the satisfaction of knowing that Dean already knows, and agrees with Sam's about to say.

"Dean—"

"Sammy."

"You'd do the same for me."

There it is. Sam giving it to him without a doubt, and Dean has to turn away. He walks to the window, peering through the blinds, brushing some of the morning dust off them. There is an ambulance rushing into the emergency block and Dean shudders, thinking of. Thinking of.

"I'm not saying it's the right thing to do," says Sam, and Dean wants to ask him to shut up but he can't, and Sam goes on. "Cas is desperate. And you know better than most people what it's like to lose your brother." He pauses. "Don't you?"

Dean doesn't even look back at Sam. He just focusses on the people going in and out of the hospital and wonders, of the hundred awful things that his life could be about… why did it have to be this? Why can't he have one good thing and be at peace?

Maybe he was never meant to be happy. Maybe this is all there is to his life.

That night, Dean asks Mary to stay the night with Sam at the hospital and he embraces his whiskey and his cigarettes back home, then the knife.

He cuts until he's almost passed out from blood loss. He cuts until he's almost screaming from the pain, physical, mental, emotional, and worse than anything he's ever felt.

~o~

Sam notices the cuts. He tries to say something, but Dean's out of there before Sam can lecture him about it. On the other side, Cas doesn't text or FaceTime, doesn't even open the door for Dean each time he drives to Cas's home.

Dean cuts again. Thinks that maybe if he accidentally dies like this, that it's probably for the best.

This is all before neither Dean nor Mary turn out to be a match for Sam. Nor do Eileen, Benny, Ellen, Jody, Bobby, or any of their friends. Sam's just… different, and Dean, for once, wishes his brother didn't have to be the weirdest of them all.

The date of the trial draws closer and nothing changes. Sam gets worse, except, Dean thinks he has the hots for Jess. He would have teased Sam about it, had he not been pissed to hell about everything ever.

"You promised you'll get help," Sam reminds him one day, looking worse than ever before, weak, barely walking, dying dying dying. He's on the transplant list but there's a queue out there, a queue which moves way too slowly to be helpful to Sam.

"Sam," Dean says, too tired to talk, to argue, to do anything. "I'll get help, okay?"

"When?"

Dean concentrates on the linoleum floor. Traces the scuff marks, closes his fists. "I…" He takes a deep breath. "When you get a new liver."

"Dean—"

Dean takes a deep breath and heads to the door. "I'll do it if and when you promise me that you won't die," he says, and it's a miracle that he says it without his voice breaking, because there is no part of him right now that isn't shattered.

That evening, Dean hangs out at Ellen's bar with Jo and her girlfriend Charlie, the chick Sam had befriended when they were held with Roman. Jo's showing off her bald head, unabashed, and Charlie is smitten by every inch of her just like…

Dean stops his thoughts right there.

He wonders what they'll do if Jo doesn't survive her cancer, but then they both look at him the moment he thinks that. Dean realises a moment too late that his face is wet.

"I, uh…" He looks away, and that's when he feels a weak punch on his shoulder.

"Winchester," says Jo, when he turns to look, "don't you make this about yourself. We're not living some tragedy here."

He raises his hands in surrender, tries to smile. "Not feeling sorry for myself. Are we all right now?"

"We are," says Jo. "Besides, I'm not dying."

Dean chuckles, tracing a finger over the worn wooden table top. "I never questioned that."

"No, for real—" Jo's eyes widen when she realises Dean doesn't know what she's talking about. "You don't know, do you?"

"Know what?"

The smile she gives him is the brightest, shining through her translucent skin, dazzling and beautiful, and Dean just knows before she even says it.

Jo giggles like a little girl. "The chemo is working, man," she says. "It's getting better and your mom is happy with where I'm heading to. It stays this way for just a couple months and we'll be sure that I'm not dy—oof!" Dean barely gives her the opportunity to finish what she was saying, for he has his arms around her, and if he weren't so scared that he would crush her, he would never let go.

Maybe everything isn't a clusterfuck. Maybe there is just one thing in his life that's actually awesome right now.

However, this is all before the day of the trial. This is all before Dean's sitting in court, watching Jess prepare her papers, waiting for his mom. He is hoping they will win, although, chances that they will lose are really slim, but Roman's rich and he has a good lawyer so they can't say for sure even with airtight evidence and great witnesses from their side.

A few minutes before the court is in session, Mary enters the room and comes over to sit beside Dean. She looks red and huffy, like she'd rushed, and Dean's about to ask her if she's all right, when she grabs his hand and turns to him with tears glimmering in her eyes.

"Mom?" he asks, concerned. "What's the matter?"

She gives him a trembling smile. "I just came back from the hospital and—" Dean's heart skips a beat, but his mother takes both his hands and squeezes them. "Sam has a match."

Dean's jaw drops, the sounds of court chatter around him muffling considerably and he doesn't care—doesn't care anymore. About anything. Mary, however, turns, and Dean notices a familiar face at the door.

Cas takes Dean's glance at him as the sign to come in and he does. He settles in the row behind Dean and extracts something from his pocket: a pass to his show, from what Dean can see. He offers it to Dean and Dean takes it without comment, still staring at Cas, who finally smiles.

"I got tested for your brother," he signs, "and I'm a match. I'm willing to get the surgery as soon as possible."

Oh, Cas, Dean wants to say, I love you, you fucking moron, and you didn't have to give Sammy your liver for me to remember that. He ends up saying something else, though, although it comes from his heart just as earnestly as his thoughts. "Thank you," Dean says, signing at the same time. "Thank you."

Cas nods, and Dean has to pretend for the session that he doesn't want to look back again and again, that he doesn't want to kiss the living daylights out of Cas. He waits, though, he waits the next few days and after a gruelling, exhausting trial when they win, Dean pulls Cas into a hug and cherishes him all over again, his warmth, his touch, and everything, everything that has ever been Cas. They don't meet or talk again for a long time after.

~o~

Three months later

Ooh lala la

Oooh lala la

Ooh la lala la la la lala

"That's Sona, and she's going to be singing now," Dean says to Sam on the phone, only to hear a sigh from the other side. "Do you hear that?"

"Dude, I know that's her," Sam replies, and Dean can barely hear him through the cheering, but he presses the phone closer to his ear, straining to listen. Sam just a couple months into his transplant but he's not allowed in public places yet because his immune system is kinda fried. He did get a new girlfriend out of the whole deal though, the bastard.

"Stop disturbing my fun and let me listen. I don't need your commentary from there," Sam continues.

Dean laughs. "All right, Sasquatch, you cosy up with Jess and have fun." He can practically hear Sam bitchfacing as his brother ends the call. He's just pocketed his phone when a pair of hands pulls at him. It's Jo.

"Dean," she says, "come on, dance!"

"Your girlfriend—"

"Dance!" she says getting him to stand up with her and the others. They sway to the interlude. Sona raises the mic to her lips and Jo screams, Charlie following suit, and Benny whoops. Dean looks at them and claps.

"All right!"

Thanthaane Thanthaane Kaatrum Mazhaiyum Thanthaane
Elloarum Vaazhathaane

Jo grabs his hands and they dance, unruly and free, as Sona continues.

Thanthaane Thanthaane Paadal Onru Thanthaane
Elloarum Paadathaane

Sirupillaipoal Manamirunthaal Thuyarillaiyae
Paravaiyaippoal Udalirunthaal Bayamillaiyae

Jo moves, Dean with her, and he's never felt this happy, this good.

Thanthaane Thanthaane Kaiyil Boomi Thanthaane
Valamoadu Vaazhathaane

He grabs Jo's fingers and twirls her around, making her giggle as Sona quickens pace, the whole crowd bursting into cheers.

Mazhaithuli Mannil Vanthu Sintha Chintha
Ezhugirathae Oru Vaasam
Athu Enai Vaanavillil Kondu Saerthu Vidugirathae
Sila Naeram

There is whooping, and before he knows it, Dean is warm, sweaty, hugging Jo, and they're chorusing with Sona, the only words they can sing out of everything.

"Ooh lala la

Oooh lala la

Ooh la lala la la la lala!"

Jo is giggling again, Dean is laughing, too, the lights blue and green on her face as the song interludes again and Dean pulls her closer to plant a kiss on her head.

"I'm so glad you're okay, kiddo," he mutters into her ear, and she looks at him with a twinkle in her eyes. She's been cancer free for a whole month now, just like she said she'd be.

"I'm more than just okay, Winchester." She gestures to Charlie. "Moving in with her this week."

"Really?"

"Really! I love her, man."

Dean bows his head. "Well, then, she's one lucky girl."

Jo glances at the stage, at the spot they both know Dean's been staring at since he got here. Cas is there with his violin and he looks hot, shirt slightly unbuttoned and hair mussed up, drenched in confetti and glitter, the light forming somewhat of a halo around him. Like an angel.

The angel who saved Dean first, only to save Sam after. Dean knows Cas is probably all of the reasons he was alive to see Sam come back, and every day he thinks of it, he loves Cas even more, and he wasn't even sure that was possible.

So when Jo puts a hand on his arm and leans towards him, Dean knows the answer to the question she's about to ask already.

"Yeah," he says, clearing his throat. "I'm lucky, too. I love him."

"So tell him."

"I did, so many times."

Jo squeezes his arm and the lights change, and Dean looks again at Cas, halo, sharp jaw, eyes, stubble, sweetness, and hotness altogether. "I proposed," he says. "But it wasn't meant to be, I guess."

"No, that's not it," she says, "it was and it always is meant to be."

"Then—?"

"You told him you love him?"

"Yeah, I just told you…"

"Tell him again. You love him, Winchester, so isn't he worth saying it once more?"

Dean takes in her words, takes in the music, and looks around at all the jumping, happy people, none of whom have what he has. Or even had. Cas is better than everything else. And fuck yes, Dean wants him back, and damn him if he doesn't try at least once more.

So much fuss for a Grindr hook-up gone right. Dean guesses he'll have to fabricate this story for his grandkids after all.

Dean sneaks backstage after the performance, a mighty, hearty, beautiful mix of music unlike anything he's ever heard in his life. His way to the dressing rooms is easy but he doesn't have to go too far, for he finds Cas signing to Sona at the corridor, both of them sitting against the wall, but before Dean can approach them, Cas sees him and the animated conversation stops.

Sona turns to look up, and she smiles, awkward and knowing, as she gets up. "I guess it's time for me to leave, then."

Dean can barely take his eyes off Cas, but he manages to go forward and shake Sona's hand. "Hey, you did great tonight."

"Thanks." She clutches his hand. "Thanks for coming and watching us."

"Are you kidding me, you guys are awesome!"

"Still." She says that, just that, and Dean wonders how many people know what went on between him and Cas. He watches her disappear down the corridor into the dressing rooms and takes his time to get to Cas's side, to sit on the floor beside him.

"Hey, Cas."

"Hello, Dean," Cas signs back.

"I just…" Dean's voice catches in his throat. They haven't spoken since the trial. A couple weeks later Cas gave Sam a part of his liver and Sam's been tolerating it well so far. Dean had gone to Cas's room after the surgery and had thanked him. Only… Cas doesn't know that because he was unconscious at the time. Dean barely met him or spoke to him after that, except for sending Cas a mixtape of his favourite Zeppelin tracks.

"Dean," Cas whispers, and Dean looks at him.

"Cas, I'm sorry, man."

"It was my brother's time to go," Cas signs in reply. "I'm sorry I took my grief and anger out on you."

"And I'm sorry," Dean signs back, "to put you in that position. After Sammy… I should have known better."

Cas nods, eyes shining with tears, and Dean cups his face, leaning forward to place his forehead against Cas's. "I love you," he says, "and I understand if you never want to be with me, but—"

Cas pulls away like he was jolted by electricity, sleeves going up to wipe at his eyes and dig into his pocket. When he produces a ring, Dean's jaw drops. How long had Cas carried that around, waiting to propose? How long ago had Cas wanted to propose?

"Dean," Cas begins, his raspy voice making another appearance, but Dean stops him by placing his lips on Cas's. He hears Cas gasp, their arms tangling around each other, hungry to be in each other's arms again after so long, so long, but then Dean has to break away this time, for he wants to give his answer in the way that Cas would like.

"Yes," he signs, "I will marry you."

Cas is still smiling. "You are better at signing now."

"I know." Dean chuckles. "So am I getting that ring or what?"

Cas nods, takes Dean's hand, and slides the ring onto Dean's finger. It's a plain platinum band with an engraving, that when Dean looks closely, says something he's not sure he knows the meaning of.

BHAIRAVI

"Bhairavi," he whispers, staring at the letters. "What's Bhairavi?"

Cas doesn't even take a beat to answer it. "Bhairavi," he says. "Bhairavi is you."