Chapter Nine

Dean spent the rest of the ride fighting sleep. Every few minutes his eyelids would droop, and his head would bob until his chin touched his chest and he jerked himself awake for a few minutes until his eyelids started getting heavy again, and the pattern repeated. He wasn't sure where Cas was taking them, or what time it was, just that it was pitch black outside and that he felt light headed the longer they drove.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they pulled off the main highway and onto a gravel road. Dean grit his teeth, his whole body throbbing at the uncomfortable rattling inside the cab, but he didn't say a word; Cas was looking straight ahead, his grip white-knuckled around the steering wheel, and Dean didn't want to startle him out of his thoughts by speaking.

Cas made a left, and Dean barked out a curse as they hit a dip in the road and his wounded knee bent. The Impala came to a stop, Cas cutting the engine and drowning the cab in silence.

"How are you feeling?" The blue-eyed driver turned in his seat to examine Dean, and the older man shrugged.

"Been better," He answered.

"Figured," Cas nodded, turning in his seat and opening the door; the hinges squealed and Dean flinched at the usually comforting sound, his head throbbing. Cas stretched a minute, and Dean eyed a piece of milky flesh that was exposed with his rising shirt, but it vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. Cas sighed, opening Dean's door, and leaned in.

"Where are we?" Dean asked, and the blue-eyed boy was quiet as he offered an arm to Dean for support.

"My family's old cabin," Dean took his arm, silently appreciating the help as he unfolded himself from the backseat and avoided stretching his aching body, particularly careful not to move his injured leg. "Somewhere in South Dakota,"

"Anywhere near Sioux Falls?" Dean grunted, pleased with the news of their location, as Cas put a secure arm around his waist and he was forced to reciprocate with an arm around the younger man's shoulders. Slowly, they began their hobble towards the cabin Dean had only just noticed looming ahead.

"Sioux Falls? It's about two hours south, why?" Cas asked as he helped Dean up the steps and on to the porch of the cabin, his arm tightening around the taller mans waist, and for a minute Dean wanted to lean over and kiss him, to remember what it felt like to just lean over and lay one on him. But he thought better of it and mumbled a simple thanks instead as they made it to the door.

"I've got family there, someone who can help us out."

Cas nodded quietly, standing on his toes and feeling along the top of the door, coming away with a key in hand and keeping one arm securely around Dean as he jammed it in the lock and turned. The door came open with a soft creak, and Cas carried the key in with them, closing the door as they stepped inside.

The place was small, and warm, like the heater had been left on; the small hallway they stood in led straight back to what appeared to be a kitchen. Off to the left was the living room, and a small hallway to the right led to what Dean guessed was bedrooms and bathrooms. Cas's fingers fumbled along the wall for a long minute, before they finally found the light switch and the whole house came to light in a matter of seconds, making Dean squint a bit after so long spent in the dark.

"C'mon," Cas led him into the living room, to one of the long couches, and lowered him on to the dusty cushions. Dean sank back into the plush surface, eyes closing as Cas lifted his legs and laid him out flat, shoving a pillow under his injured knee with gentle force.

"I'm going out to grab some stuff from the Impala. I'll be back in a second," Cas informed, and Dean's eyes opened.

"I don't want you going out there alone," He found himself saying, struggling to sit up. "I'll come with you,"

"Dean," Cas pressed two fingers to his forehead and shoved gently, sending the hunter back with a gentle 'oof' of pain as he sank into the couch cushions. "You can barely walk. It'll just be a minute."

And, just like that, Cas was gone.

Dean was left alone in the cabin, nothing but the sound of his own breathing and the ticking of a clock somewhere down the hall to keep him company. Though the cabin initially seemed warm and inviting, something about it now seemed hollow and uncomfortable to Dean. He stared at the dark wood ceiling overhead and found, if he listened hard enough, he could hear Cas riffling through the Impala outside.

He laid like this a few minutes, listening to the distant sounds of Cas, until the anxiety got the better of him. He reached in his pocket, retrieving the cell-phone there and pressing speed dial 2, Sammy's number being 1.

"Singer Auto Repair," The gruff voice greeted shortly after the third ring.

"Bobby? It's me."

There was a heavy pause on the other line and Dean began to believe he may have hung up, when-

"Your brother would rip my throat out if he knew I was talking to you. Dammit, Dean, what are you doing kidnapping people?" Dean flinched away from the criticism, struggling to sit up on the couch and falling back with a quiet whimper- no, a grunt, men grunt- of pain.

"What are you talking about, Bobby? I didn't kidnap anyone." Dean sighed.

"That boyfriend of yours, just woke up from a coma? You mean to tell me you didn't run off with that boy?"

"Bobby, I didn't kidnap Cas. It's a really long.. Look, it's a really long story, okay? But right now, I need help." Dean tried to convey the desperation in his voice; he needed Bobby.

It was about then that Cas shuffled through the door, a duffel on each shoulder, and locked the door behind himself. He dropped the key to the cabin and the keys to the Impala both on a table in the main hall before turning and heading into the living room, setting the bags down and casting a curious look at Dean as he knelt beside them. "Who are you talking to?"

"How bad is it, and whadaya need?" Bobby asked and Dean waved away Castiel's question.

"Nothing I can say over the phone, but... We got demons on our tale, and I'm laid out with a broken or shattered knee cap..." Dean was careful to chose his words and he heard Bobby's frustrated sigh on the other end as Cas began to pull things out of the duffels he'd set on the floor.

"Where are you?" Bobby demanded.

"Two hours south of Sioux Falls...I'll text you the address when I figure out." He responded.

"I'll leave soon as I get the text." Bobby replied, and Dean could hear him shuffling around on the other end.

"Thank you, Bobby.."

"Keep your head low, kid, and stay safe."

Just like that, Dean was alone again with Cas in the small room. He set the phone on the floor beside the couch and watched as Cas pulled article after article of clothing from the first duffel, folding each carefully before he grabbed for the next.

"Whose Bobby?" He asked after Dean had been staring at him awhile.

"Friend of the family... Kinda like my second Dad." It was the best description Dean could come up with. Cas nodded, quiet and pensive, folding one final pair of jeans before pushing the stack aside. He stood, knees popping, and grabbed the second bag. It rattled as he lifted it, and Dean heard the unmistakable clanking of metal against metal as Cas stepped forward, eyes focused on Dean's face, and dropped the bag on the floor in front of the couch.

"Figured you would want your armory within reach." The words were simple, but cutting. Dean couldn't recall a time he had heard Cas speak with such curt indifference and hard eyes. He stared at Dean a long moment before turning, grabbing a few things from the pile of clothes, and disappearing down the hall without a word.

Dean felt that hole in his chest again, growing larger, threatening to swallow what little portion of his soul that didn't ache. He had thought it was painful to see Cas asleep, unable to wake, but he had hardly expected it to be so hard to see him up and around.

With some effort, Dean managed to drag the duffel from the floor to his lap, unzipping it and looking inside. All his weapons, the sawed-off, a few hand guns, silver blades... They all looked back at him from inside the black bag, and Dean caught his reflection in one of the larger blades. His face was swollen, nose leaning left, and skin pale in the dim lit room. A shadow, he thought, of the man he was supposed to be.

Cas might hate him, and there was a bag of reasons why sitting in Dean's lap.

Dean wanted to blame this on hunting. He wanted to push it off his plate, hand the guilt to someone else; his father, maybe, for dragging them across the country. For ordering him to break up with Cas. But in the end, he knew it was his own fault. He had been his father's bitch his whole life, and he had followed through with the orders; he had let Cas drive that night, he had broken the boy's fragile heart, just like he broke everything and everyone he cared about.

Dean zipped the bag closed, pushing it to the floor with a muffled metal clatter.

Slowly, careful of his knee, Dean maneuvered his legs off the side of the couch, planting his feet firmly against the hardwood floor and taking a slow breath as he sat up, head spinning. He took a moment to steel himself before he stood, legs threatening to give for a brief moment before he pushed through it and limped down the hall, using the wall as support. He could hear running water now, presumably the shower, and he followed the sound to the last door on the left of the hall.

He didn't stop to consider his actions, impulsive was his middle name; instead, he pushed the door open and stepped into the steam-filled room, closing the door behind himself to trap the heat. The bloody hospital gown Cas had been wearing was tossed in the corner, the clean clothes on the counter. Dean carefully lowered himself on to the toilet seat, injured leg extended, and pushed his fingers through his hair.

Cas had to have heard him come in, he thought, but there was no indication from beyond the curtain that the other boy had heard. There was nothing besides the soft sound of water hitting skin and Dean stared nervously at his feet, trying to find the right words, when he heard it.

It was a sound he first heard when his and Cas's relationship was still new. He'd snuck in to the younger boy's house one night, only to find Cas curled in the fetal position against his locked bedroom door, hands clasped over his mouth as he tried desperately to muffle quiet sobs. It had been one of the worst things Dean had ever witnessed- someone who was afraid to feel there own pain, or to let others know that they were. Dean could barely head it over the water, but it was there; the trembling inhale, the weak sob.

He was standing, peeling back the curtain, before he could think. Sure enough, Cas was curled in the fetal position on the floor of the tub, wet hair matted to his head, naked body shaking as he cried into his knees. He hardly looked up, but he didn't have to; Dean knew he was ashamed to be found in this position, but he knew it helped. He knew he could help.

Slow, as if his movements might frighten the trembling boy, Dean stepped barefoot into the tub. He managed to get himself in and draw the curtain closed, trapping them in a quiet bubble of water and steam. His knee screamed, and stars danced behind his eyes, but he lowered himself to the floor of the tub beside Cas and took careful hold of the boy across from him, drawing him slowly closer. Cas went willingly, almost limp, until Dean had drawn him into his lap.

The tears came harder, Cas's whole body shaking with them as his head fell against Dean's shoulder and his fingers tightened into claws around Dean's shirt. It broke his heart to hear, and he slowly put his arms around the younger man, pressing his lips to the wet hair and rubbing gentle hands over the trembling planes of his back.

"I-I l...lo-loved you, and I... Do-don't know.. Wh-who you a-are.." Cas hiccuped against his neck and the hole in Dean's chest expanded to swallow everything, leaving him as nothing more than a hollow, aching individual.

"Yes you do, Cas... Better than anyone, baby." He whispered, fingers tracing each individual knot of Cas's spine. It was all so broken, like a bathtub full of glass shards; he had to tread carefully, or risk submerging Cas in the shards and opening a thousand new wounds...

"I-I don't know... Wh-what you do, where you're from, a-and w-why this... This thing is inside of me." Cas choked. "I-I can feel it.. A-all the time, and I'm sc-scared... A-and I don't... I d-don't know wh.. Why you st-stopped loving me!"

Dean held tight as Cas tried to push away, tried to fight his hold, and the boy gave up after a weak moment, breaking down in a new series of cries. Dean nosed carefully along his jaw, lips finding his pulse, and laying a soft kiss there. It was all so fragile, not easy and free as it used to be...

"I never stopped loving you, Cas... Doesn't matter if you know me or not, I never stopped loving you.." He promised into the water slick skin. The younger man hiccuped, body shaking, and drew himself closer, made himself smaller.

"H-how do I know that?" He croaked, and Dean was quiet. His whole body ached something awful, and the pain in his chest was almost overwhelming. But he saw through it all, saw how Cas looked up at his hesitation, blue eyes consumed with the fire of desperation. He saw that fire die, fade into a pained smolder, the longer Dean's silence dragged, and he willed himself to open his mouth; speak before he lost Cas for a second time...

The silence dragged. Long after Cas climbed out of the tub, fresh tears on his cheeks as he stalked down the hall, slamming doors behind himself. Long after the water ran cold, and his fingers and toes went numb.

The silence stayed with Dean into the night, when he finally shut off the water and sat in the dark, wet clothes chafing his cold skin.

Why, Dean wondered, did he have to be a man of action, when it was words that Cas needed to heal him?

I bet you're surprised that I'm still alive! Sorry for the huge gap, guys! Life has just been really hectic. However, summer is just around the corner and exams are over! So expect to see more updates, more regularly! - CCW