CHAPTER NINE
Sifting through a lifetime of memories was no simple task. Usually they were at least sorted chronologically, with the most recent at the forefront and the most important in sharper definition, with links between related events, but Dean's mind was in chaos.
There was no quick route for Cas to take to get to where he needed to go; he had to slug through the hard way. He tried to heal some of the damage as he went along, but the problem was that these were not his memories. He didn't know which of the broken pieces belonged together. He could hazard a guess with some, and he could place others in a vague order based on how old Dean seemed to be, but if he tried to bond the fragments with his Grace and they turned out to be mismatched he could cause almost as much damage as Raphael had.
He needed a baseline; a concrete memory to form the foundation for the re-construction process. He had something in mind, but the trick would be finding all the pieces that had been scattered to the wind.
"-you are my little angel-"
"-angels are watching over you-"
"-she was wrong. There was nothing protecting her. There's no higher power, there's no god. There's just chaos and violence and random unpredictable evil that comes out of nowhere and rips you to shreds."
"-I don't have to answer to puppy chow. Stick him, boy."
Hellhounds. Fear and pain and Sammy's desperate screams in the background until all he could hear was the gurgling of blood and the rattle of his final breath.
Hell.
Virtually everything else had been destroyed, but 40 years of Hell memories had been left relatively untouched. Raphael was more interested in mind games and psychological torment than physical torture, but he had ensured that if Dean remembered anything clearly it would be the agony he endured at Alastair's hand.
Cas struggled to keep a lid on his anger. He wanted to go back in time and use his god-like power to kill Raphael over and over and over again in the most painful ways possible. In fact, he was tempted to drag Michael out of the pit and give him the same treatment for giving Cas the order to rescue Dean forty damn years too late.
No wonder Dean hadn't believed him when he said he was an angel of the Lord. For all that they were supposed to be guardians of the Earth, the angels hadn't lifted a finger to help one of humanity's greatest defenders until it suited their purposes. Despite his mother's prayers, they had allowed Dean to be ripped to bloody shreds. Despite Dean's righteous heart and noble self-sacrifice, they had allowed him to suffer decades of torture until it broke him.
No wonder Dean had no faith.
Except… slowly, gradually, Dean had learned to have faith. Not in God, or heaven, or angels, but in Cas.
Cas didn't feel he deserved it, but he was determined to earn it now.
"-you're just a sad, lonely little kid-"
"-they don't need you, not like you need them-"
"-everybody leaves you, Dean-"
"-maybe it's best if we just… go our separate ways."
Close! So close. Cas remembered turning up in Dean's motel room and asking where his brother was. "Me and Sam are taking separate vacations for a while," Dean had said. He hadn't been happy about it and the absence of his brother had hung like a shadow over him, but there had been moments between them where Dean's expression had suggested amusement, fondness… even trace amounts of happiness, like he was actually enjoying Castiel's company, and something else Cas could not quite define.
"-well, last night on earth. What, uh what are your plans?"
Last night on Earth. Having waded through Dean's memories, Cas had witnessed this phrase in use on two different occasions. The first had been from Dean to Jo shortly before their mission to kill the Devil, and her response had suggested he had attempted to use it as a 'pick-up' line (Raphael had spliced this memory with hellhounds inflicting a mortal wound that swiftly claimed Jo's life, as well as her mother's when she chose to die at her side). The second had been from Anna to Dean and Cas had very deliberately not paid attention when they started to kiss (though the memory soon skipped to Anna trying to kill Dean's parents which had rather severely changed Dean's opinion of her). In light of these revelations, Cas was not sure what to make of Dean's comment to him, especially when it was followed by "There are two things that I know for certain. One. Bert and Ernie are gay. Two. You are not gonna die a virgin. Not on my watch."
But that wasn't the issue at hand. Cas was looking for a memory, a strong, happy memory. Laughing, Dean laughing…
"-Cas! His name's Cas."
There!
Cas grasped the memory. It was bizarre seeing his own face from an outside perspective, and it was embarrassing to see how panicked he had looked as he gulped down that beer. But Dean had been positively buzzing with amusement, overjoyed to be 'wingman' to an angel who literally had wings (Dean hadn't voiced the pun out loud but it had him laughing internally). He had taken far too much pleasure in Castiel's obvious discomfort, but the point was that he was happy. And any minute now he would be laughing harder than he had in years-
"Where the hell have you been?"
No, he was supposed to say 'What the hell did you do?'
"-on a bender-"
Of course. The memory had been mutilated like all the rest, but why had Raphael chosen this to pair it with?
"-poor example of one-"
To be honest, Cas did not remember much of what had transpired while he was drunk. It had been a moment of weakness; confronted with the reality of a Father who had long since abandoned them and no longer cared, Cas had been filled with self-pity and had attempted to 'drown his sorrows'. He had never intended for the Winchesters to be witness to his inebriation, but he could never have imagined the impact it would have on Dean.
Dean thought Cas had given up. He thought Cas believed their situation was hopeless. He thought this was the end, they were out of options, God was their last hope and now there was nothing that could prevent the apocalypse. He thought Cas expected him to fail, the way he had with the first seal and the last.
Dean had barely been holding on before, but that had been the tipping point.
"-maybe they wrongly assume Dean would be brave enough to withstand them-"
"-I rebelled for THIS? I gave everything for you, and this is what you give to me?"
"Sorry, Dean. I don't have the same faith in you that Sam does."
Cas flinched. He remembered saying those words, and at the time he had meant every modicum of insult, disappointment and disgust that the words conveyed – because when Cas had lost faith in his Father he chose to believe in Dean instead, only to have Dean throw his trust and sacrifice back in his face by surrendering to Michael and dooming half the planet – but he had not realised how brutally his words had torn into Dean. He could feel it now, though. The Dean he had pulled from Hell did not believe he deserved to be saved, but meeting an angel who believed differently had almost managed to convince Dean otherwise. Tentatively, Dean had begun to develop a small feeling of self-worth, bolstered by his friendship with an incredibly powerful celestial being who inexplicably thought he could save the world.
Cas had known their bond was unique, but he didn't realise that Dean had never really had a true friend before he came along. He never understood how much power that gave him to hurt, to wound, but suddenly his opinion mattered and what he said had cut deep. Though Dean had hidden his reaction well, this memory was steeped in regret, self-loathing and an overwhelming feeling of worthlessness.
Sam shouldn't have brought me here.
Cas should never have pulled me from that Pit.
I belonged there.
Cas thought I was strong enough to be some kind of hero, but now he knows the truth. He knows just how weak and pathetic I am.
He doesn't even care what happens to me.
Michael is going to use me up until I'm a burned-out husk, and all Cas will think is 'good riddance'.
He betrayed Heaven for me. He gave up his home, his family, his station, his power because I asked him to, and I let him down.
Oh god, he hates me.
I've ruined everything.
But Dean hadn't let him down. Castiel's faith hadn't been misplaced after all. The trouble was that Dean didn't remember their reconciliation. Because Raphael hadn't just set out to hurt Dean. He wanted to hurt Cas. He wanted to ruin them.
Grimly determined, Cas severed the positive memory from the negative ones. All would have to find their place eventually, but for now he had a mission to complete.
He renewed his search.
The undertaking was not pleasant. Every glimmer of happiness Cas gathered was partnered with a memory he would rather not revisit. Fights and arguments, harsh words and cold silences, times when Dean had called and Cas had not answered, disappointments and distrust.
"How did Crowley get away? I mean it's not like Cas to make mistakes like that. Unless-"
"Unless what?"
"Unless he meant to."
"Bobby, this is Cas we're talking about. Do you believe this? Sam?"
"Look, it's probably nothing, it's just- you know, you're right, it's probably nothing."
"What if it ain't nothing? We can't just ignore the possibility-"
"That Cas has jumped into bed with Crowley? You can't be serious."
"I wish I weren't."
"This is un-fricken-believable. After everything Cas has done for us-"
"Dean, don't you think that Cas has been a little… off lately?"
"He's fighting a war. He's distracted."
"Yeah, about that. Raphael is an archangel who can kill with a snap of his fingers. He already killed Cas once; what is stopping him from doing it again? Where the hell did Cas get the kind of juice to hold his own against a power like that?"
"I don't – that's not the point!"
"I think it is. Imagine it – you're up against an archangel and his army, you've got little-to-no power on your side, and you happen to know an ex-crossroads demon with all the power of Hell at his disposal."
"Cas wouldn't make a deal. He wouldn't do that! If Cas needed help he would have come to me."
"You retired from hunting. Cas wouldn't want to drag you back in any more than Sam or I did."
In that instant, a tendril of doubt snaked under Dean's armour. The absolute faith he had in Cas wavered. He considered that maybe, just maybe, there might be some truth to what they were saying.
He thought there was a chance that Cas had betrayed him.
And he was right.
Raphael had taken Dean before they could fix this. Betrayal was followed by cruel abandonment. In his last days of coherence, Dean had believed that Cas had left him there to die.
The pain struck Cas anew, staggering him. Worse, so much worse, than the knowledge that Dean had been taken from him to be tortured and killed, was the realisation that Cas had already been losing Dean before Raphael laid so much as a finger on him. Cracks had formed in the foundation of their friendship, and it was Castiel's fault.
An all-consuming dread filled him as he was confronted by the very real possibility that even if he did heal his soul, Dean could be lost to him forever. Once he woke up and remembered everything that had happened, he might never want to see Cas again. He could send him away.
What would Cas do? Return to Heaven? He didn't want to go back there. He wanted to stay here. He wanted to stay with Dean. He hadn't suffered through this entire ordeal only to be denied the one thing he wanted most.
Cas held the memory in his hand, and he had an awful idea.
He could erase it.
Dean would never know. Sam and Bobby would accept the memory loss as damage that Cas simply couldn't fix.
Dean would see Cas as his saviour. Cas would not need to fear rejection. They could move forward, their bond stronger than ever.
But if he did that, he would be no better than the monster who had mangled Dean's soul.
He had meant what he said.
He would save Dean, no matter the cost.
