Author's note: Oh god I am so sorry.
No really.
But seriously, as I mentioned earlier: I swear on my life this fic will have a happy ending. I swear. The ending will be lovely. It'll make you want to cry happy tears. (well I hope :3) So please keep pressing through. These next few chapters are going to be pretty tough, I won't lie, but hopefully it'll be well worth it.
Oh, the drama that is about to take place.
Thank you to the people who reviewed the last chapter, it was super lovely of you! Reviews make me very happy, aw :3 and if you could review this chapter, too, I'd be very happy! (But please be nice. I know this chapter is going to be painful, but like I said: happy ending. So keep going. and don't hate me D:)
That's about it! Warnings for language, but I think that's all. That and pain. This fic is turning out just like the actual show.
Disclaimer: I do not own supernatural, or any of its characters, I do not own Thank You (the song the fic is named after) and I do not own the band who wrote it. (Led Zeppelin. Gotta love em)
Chapter 14
"We should move out of here." Dean mumbled against Cas' skin one night, his nose brushing softly at Cas' shoulder.
"What? Why?" Cas chuckled, stroking his hand through Dean's hair.
"Just 'cause." Dean shrugged. "This place is kind of shitty, you've gotta admit, and, y'know, seeing as we're kind of going to be hopefully getting married at some point—"
"Kind of." Cas repeated laughing.
"You know what I mean." Dean's cheeks reddened. "But we should get out of here. Out of my old shitty apartment that I persuaded you to move into—and we should get some new, nice place, with bigger rooms and an actual separate kitchen instead of one that's basically in the same room as the living room, just decorated a bit different to separate the two a bit."
"It's kind of convenient." Cas shrugged. "And I'm not really sure we could afford a new place."
"Are you kidding? With the money we've got from yours, the money we'd get from this place—well, of course we could get a new, and bigger place. Not a proper house, mind—although maybe a small one, if we were lucky. But at least a nicer apartment. You deserve that."
Cas laughed again, his fingertips pushing themselves through Dean's soft, sandy brown tufts of hair. "I like it here, Dean, please don't think I don't."
"So do I." Dean smiled, moving himself up to kiss Cas' lips. "But only 'cause you're here with me. Before, I hated it. So much—you have no idea. It was just some crappy apartment that I lived in, alone."
"And now we share it."
"Yeah, but I wanna share a better one with you."
"What kind of place do you have in mind?" Cas chuckled as Dean nosed at his cheek.
"Somewhere nice." Dean hummed.
"You're going to have to be more specific than that, Dean, sorry." Cas laughed.
"Alright, somewhere with a good view of the city. Or just a good view, we don't need to be near the city centre or anything, just in a nice location. It'd still have a spare bedroom, 'cause y'know, sometimes Sammy comes to stay, and sometimes Anna comes to stay, so yeah, we'd need one, for sure—it'd also have an awesome kitchen—it doesn't need to be super fancy or anything, just a bit bigger than the one we have right now… and if we got a house, it'd have a garden, and I'd grow all kinds of awesome shit there; and if it was an apartment, it'd be one where we could climb up onto the roof and watch the stars together."
Cas chuckled at Dean's words, a smile playing across his lover's lips as he spoke.
"An apartment sounds far more realistic, Dean. But the roof thing—watching the stars with you, that sounds lovely."
"It does?" Dean grinned, dragging his lips up Cas' neck.
"Yes." Cas laughed again, turning to kiss Dean. "You're a hopeless romantic, you know."
"You like it." Dean chuckled, his lips curling upwards into a confident smile.
"Unfortunately, I do, and rather a lot." Cas laughed as Dean's teeth grazed his lip.
"I knew it." Dean smirked, brushing his nose against the tip of Cas'. "So, it's decided? We're definitely moving, then?"
"Have you thought this through, Dean?"
"Do I ever?" Dean cocked a grin up at Cas, who rolled his eyes and giggled again.
"I suppose it was a mistake for me to even ask…" Cas laughed. "Do you really want to get out of this place?"
"With you, yeah." Dean smiled, finally resting his head back against the pillow, gazing adoringly at Castiel.
"Well then, I guess we are." Cas shrugged, his lips twitching upwards at the look on Dean's face.
A few months later, and Dean had found a place. It was quite literally the closest thing around to perfection—it had a roof that Dean and Cas could go up onto if they wanted, the apartment would be right near the top of the block, so it wouldn't be much effort to get up to the top of it either; it was way bigger than the place they were living in now, and it had a fucking awesome view. It was great.
Dean was grinning when he showed Cas the place. Cas leant down and examined the page up on their computer.
"Looks good, huh?" Dean asked, beaming.
"Yeah." Cas nodded. "Kind of perfect." He laughed.
"Sure is." Dean grinned. "And totally within our price range."
"Oh, yeah." Cas smiled. "It is."
"So, you want to go visit it? To check it out?"
"Sure." Cas nodded, smiling and straightening up, but not before kissing Dean's cheek softly.
Later that week, Dean and Cas made their way over to the place, to see if it was everything it had been advertised to be. The guy who was selling it was moving out of state, and seemed pretty keen on getting the place of his hands as soon as possible. That was alright with Dean—it just meant the dude was more likely to want to sell the apartment pretty cheap; plus, it meant he and Cas could move in even sooner.
The apartment itself was just as it had been advertised online. It had a spare bedroom, a master bedroom for Dean and Cas, a living room, a bathroom that made their one in their current apartment look like a fucking broom cupboard, a separate kitchen that was way bigger than Dean's lousy old cooking space, a much larger living room, and a study for Cas to do all his writing in. It was fucking awesome.
"So, what do you think?" Dean asked quietly, as the current owner of the place went to make them some coffee.
"It's great, Dean." Cas smiled genuinely, holding Dean's hand. "Do you like it?"
"I love it." Dean grinned sheepishly, and Cas' lips quirked upwards even further.
"Then it's perfect." Cas beamed. "You want to get it?"
"Yeah." Dean admitted, grinning again.
A few short weeks later, and they had bought the place together. The tedious process of packing and moving boxes had begun, and they had to borrow Bobby's van again. On the bright side, Cas' bookcase proved less of a difficulty the second time around, but all his books still caused a serious ache on Dean's arms. Moving the bigger furniture, like the armchairs and the couch was fucking murder, too. They had to get Sammy and Gabriel to help out, the latter of whom was actually very little help at all, and Dean wondered why he'd thought it even moderately sensible to invite Cas' older brother.
Finally, all the boxes were upstairs, although they all needed unloading, and Dean's arms felt like they were about to fall off, and so he couldn't bring himself to even think of doing that mammoth task on that particular day.
"I'm so fucking done here." Sam grumbled, clicking his back and getting up. "We've got all your stuff up here, now it's you guys' job to unpack it. I can't do any more."
"I think we should call it a day, anyway." Dean half-yawned, stretching himself and picking up his cell phone from his pocket. "We haven't got any food in, seeing as we only just got here and all—who feels like a takeout?"
He was met by a chorus of happy, albeit exhausted groans.
"I guess that's a yes from all of you guys, then?" Dean asked, grinning. "Cas, we can totally get started on unpacking all our shit tomorrow. I can't even think about doing that shit now."
"Fair enough." Cas nodded, yawning. "At least we've got our bed in."
"Yep." Dean grinned.
In about an hour, their food had arrived. All of the group cheered thankfully, although very sleepily, and got up to grab some food. As they all sat about on the floor, the couch and the armchairs to eat, conversation flowed easily, despite their very tired states of mind, and, by the end of the night, even though they were feeling so shattered, they were all feeling pretty happy, too.
"See you soon, Dean. Bye, Cas." Sam waved as he exited the apartment, smiling at Castiel and Dean on the way out.
"Seeya, Sammy." Dean called over to his brother, not bothering to get up.
"Bye, gents." Gabriel called over with a grin as he got up to exit, too. "I hope you enjoy your new place as much as you dreamed you would."
"I'm sure we will." Dean grinned.
"Bye, Gabe." Cas rolled his eyes, smiling drowsily at his brother as he walked out the door of their new home.
"You look pretty sleepy, Cas." Dean smiled gently, as Cas yawned, his lips curving upwards at Dean's soft tone.
"I am." He nodded. "It's been a very busy day."
"It sure has." Dean grinned. "Are you happy we moved, though?"
"Very." Cas beamed.
"Good." Dean grinned back, holding out his hand for Cas and pulling him to his feet, loving the adorably drowsy look on Cas' face as he led him gently into their new bedroom.
"I think we're gonna be really happy here, Cas." Dean beamed at his fiancé as he gently sat him on the bed.
Cas' lips tilted upwards as he laid down on the bed, not bothering to remove any of his clothing—Dean sympathised greatly with this, and softly pulled off Cas' shoes, before removing his own, and flopping down onto the bed next to Cas, pulling the sheets over the two of them.
"We can get started on all the other stuff tomorrow." He whispered quietly against Cas. "It's been a long day."
Cas hummed in agreement next to Dean, turning his body so that it was facing him, and burying his face in Dean's chest.
"You really like it here?" Dean asked softly, nosing at Cas' hair.
"I love it." Cas mumbled happily, sliding his hands up Dean's back.
"Good." Dean beamed. "I'm glad. I love this place, too."
"We're going to be very happy here." Cas hummed contentedly against Dean.
"Yeah." Dean grinned. "We're gonna get married, too." He beamed again. That was, if Cas finally managed to tell his oldest brother about the two of them. And about the whole 'being gay' thing. Dean's gut twisted uncomfortably.
He was starting to worry that Cas would be willing to sacrifice his relationship with Dean, just so he could avoid being rejected by his brother.
Every time the thought crossed his mind, we wanted to be sick.
Cas nuzzled closer into Dean, and Dean tried with all his might to avoid thinking about Cas never being able to tell Michael.
"We are." Cas chuckled in agreement. "And I can't wait."
Dean drifted quickly to sleep, cherishing, as always, the wonderful feeling of Cas lying in his arms. If only the feeling of worry and curl of anxiety was as easy to forget.
"I'm going to be working late—I've got a meeting on, sorry, Dean."
"That's fine." Dean smiled, kissing Cas on the forehead as the two of them got ready for work. "Have fun, Baby."
Cas sighed and rolled his eyes. "I don't think I will." He pressed his lips into a thin line. "One of these days, Dean." He laughed, straightening up his tie.
"Here." Dean said gently, softly brushing Cas' hands aside and straightening Cas' tie for him. "Let me." He smoothed his hands against Castiel's shirt and pulled Cas' jacket onto his shoulders for him. "I'm sorry your work can be so shitty." He said apologetically, kissing Cas softly on the lips for a moment.
Cas' lips quirked upwards. "It's not so bad." He shrugged. "I get to come home to you, at least." He grinned, and Dean returned the look, kissing him again.
"I hope it's not too bad." Dean smiled gently, brushing a hand through Cas' hair softly.
Cas certainly hoped so too. He made his way into his office and set his bag on the ground, picking up the papers he had left at his desk the day before and filtering through them, searching for any items of particular importance.
Before he could find any, his phone started ringing. He picked it up before checking the caller ID—Michael's voice crackled through the speakers.
"Castiel!" Michael exclaimed excitedly from the other end of the line. "Anna just told me—you're engaged!"
Cas' stomach dropped.
Shit.
Why the fuck did Michael know? Cas had only mentioned it briefly to Anna, anyway—and why had she told Michael? Had she not thought that through at all?!
"Is it true?" Michael asked animatedly—Cas could practically hear his grin from the other end of the line. It made him want to punch something.
"Um—" Cas' guts twisted horrifically. He couldn't exactly hide this, of all things, from his brother. "Yes." He admitted, biting his lip.
"That's so awesome!" Michael's voice sounded. "Congratulations!"
"How did you find out?" Cas asked, an awfully worried, anxious line forming between his eyebrows.
"Anna told me—I just said, didn't I? We were chatting just now, and I think she accidently let it slip—I guess she wanted you to tell me yourself, but I suppose she was just kind of too excited about it and forgot. And who can blame her?! This is great, Cassie!"
"Yes, it is." Cas agreed hollowly.
"Is this the same girl you were seeing a while back?"
"That's the one." Cas nodded, his tone now completely void of any emotion.
"Well, I gotta say, I'm pleased for you. I've got to meet her, now! I bet she's awesome, if she won your heart!" Michael laughed.
"Yes. She is." Castiel admitted, his stomach sinking further. He wanted the earth to swallow him up.
"I've got to come visit you, soon, it's been way to long." Michael's voice smiled. "I can't wait to see you again—and to meet your fiancé. I'm so glad you're happy, Cas. I'll get back to you on when I can make it down."
"Okay." Cas nodded. His face felt heavy, as did his heart. He hung up his cell phone and stared into space for a few moments. He had no idea what to do. Anna had fucked up, big time. His attention snapped back at his phone, and he began angrily pressing the keys to dial his sister's number.
"Anna?" He asked, his voice tense and very, very on edge as his sister picked up the phone.
"Shit, Cas, I'm so sorry!" Anna's voice sounded from the other end of the line. "Did Michael just call you?"
"Yes. He did." Castiel replied shortly.
"I'm so sorry." Anna repeated. "We were talking—and it just slipped out! I didn't mean to tell him, I swear!"
"Well, you did." Cas said hollowly.
"Did you tell him?" Anna asked gently from the other end of the line.
"About me being gay? No. I couldn't—I can't." Cas' voice cracked. "And now he wants to come down and see me, and meet my fiancé—and I just…" Cas trailed off, biting his lip and running a hand despondently through his hair. "I don't know what to do."
"Talk to Dean." Anna replied. "Please don't cry, Cassie—I really am so sorry."
"It's fine." Castiel sighed. "He would've had to have found out eventually." He shrugged.
"I'll see you soon." Anna said gently.
"Yeah, I look forward to it."
"It'll be okay, I promise you, Cassie."
"I hope so." Cas sighed, before hanging up the phone. He had no idea what to do. He took a few minutes of breathing time before picking up his phone again and texting Dean.
Dean's phone buzzed just as he closed the hood of the car he'd just been working on, and he glanced over to it, before wiping his hands on an old cloth and picking it up. He had been thinking about Michael all day—about the almost physical strain he had been putting on him and Cas' relationship—he felt at breaking point; his stress over this individual issue in particular had been built up far too high, and felt as though it was about to snap.
Dean, Michael know that I'm engaged. He wants to come and meet my fiancé soon. I couldn't tell him—I'm sorry.
Shit. Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
So what do you want to do?
He replied with.
A few seconds later he received a response. It made his gut twist painfully.
I don't know. I don't want to tell him. I want to keep it a secret.
He slammed his phone back onto the table. He was tired of this—it was as though Cas was ashamed of him, like Cas wanted Michael to accept him more than he loved Dean. Dean was tired of it—he didn't need it.
Well, this was just fucking proof of that, wasn't it?!
Cas didn't care. Dean found himself hating both Michael and Castiel in that moment.
He didn't reply to Cas' text. How the fuck was he meant to, anyway?! He was tired of feeling like second place to Cas' stupid desires to live up to his brother's expectations before being with the man he loved. Dean. Cas had fucking said that he'd rather stay with Dean than be accepted by Michael, but that last text made Dean seriously doubt the sincerity of that statement.
Cas didn't give a shit, not really, or at least when Michael was involved. And Michael would always be involved in the equation. The guy was Cas' fucking brother, after all.
Dean sighed and rubbed his face. He'd take the rest of the day off work. He couldn't bear it at that moment.
When he got home, back to the apartment, he drank. He started off with a few beers, just to calm his stormy mind, but that escalated pretty quickly, and before he knew it, it was a bottle of whiskey in his hand instead of beer. Both his mind and vision had become groggy, his thought patterns and movements slow and unclear, and by the time Cas came home, he had worked his thoughts and worries about Michael up into some kind of rage in his head, and now a drunken storm cloud was swirling over his mind.
"Dean?" Cas' tentative voice called as he entered the apartment. Dean didn't reply. Instead he took another swig of whatever the fuck it was he was now drinking, glaring at the ground. "Dean?" Cas asked as he walked into the kitchen.
"What do you want?" Dean snapped, his eyes flicking up to glower at Castiel, now.
Cas visibly flinched at the motion, and at the tone in Dean's voice; and for some reason that only pissed Dean off more, now—what, was Cas scared of Dean, or something?!
"About the Michael thing—" Cas started, but Dean cut him off.
"You wanna keep it a secret. I know. I don't give a shit, anymore, Cas, 'cause quite frankly, it looks like you don't give one either—except you don't give a damn about me, too, which fuckin' hurts."
"It's not like that—"
"Then what the fuck is it like?!" Dean shouted. "Of course it's like that! You don't give a fuck—you never gave a fuck—about me, about us, about any of this!"
"That's not true, Dean, stop putting words in my mouth."
"I can't put words in your mouth when you've pretty much already fuckin' said them!" Dean shouted again. "You're my fiancé! You're supposed to give a shit—you're supposed to want to tell people about me—not hide me and your sexuality from your oldest brother! Seriously, Cas, I thought I'd be more important than that, by now, at the very fucking least!"
"You are—"
"No, I'm clearly not! You don't give a fuck about any of this!"
"I do, Dean!"
"Well, you've got an awfully funny way of showing it!"
"What's brought this on?!" Cas asked, raising his voice, too, now. It only made Dean more pissed—what right did this guy have to be pissed?! This entire situation was his fucking fault!
"Your fucking texts—you should know, you're the one who sent them! Why the fuck do you still wanna keep it a secret?! You've kept it a secret for too goddamn long, Cas! I thought I meant more to you that that!"
"You do!"
"Don't fucking say that! Don't lie to me, Cas! I don't mean shit to you—at least not compared to the idea to cosying up to your oldest brother!"
"Why are you saying this stuff, Dean?!" Tears were welling up in Cas' eyes—but Dean didn't care. His mind was slowed by alcohol and behind reason because of his rage—besides, Dean was pretty fucking sure he wanted to cry, too. That and shout. And drink.
"Because it's about fucking time I did! You can't keep on playing this card, Cas, this isn't a fucking game anymore! I'm tired of supporting you through crap that ends up making me feel like shit—playing the good boyfriend even when you walk all over me and deny me in front of your own brother"
"It's not about that—"
"Then what the fuck is it about?!"
"I can't come out to Michael because I'm too scared to—It's not about you—I just… I'm scared of what's going to happen, okay?"
"Well, I've certainly never heard that fucking excuse before." Dean spat, glaring at the ground.
"What the fuck does that mean?!"
"The fuck does it ever mean?! I'm tired of you treatin' me like shit just 'cause of your brother!"
"I don't treat you like shit—"
"Oh yeah?! What does denying me in front of your family sound like to you?! What does keepin' all of this a secret—when I'm fucking engaged to you, Cas—what does that sound like to you?!"
"It's not like that."
"Stop saying that!" Dean shouted. "There's no other way it could be! I can't take it anymore, Cas, I can't take you!"
"How drunk are you?!" Cas shouted in return.
"Not drunk enough!" Dean yelled.
"You spend all this time talking about how much you 'hate your father'—you know what, Dean? you're acting like him right now!"
Dean's eyes snapped up to Cas' face. A scowl spread across his own expression, and Cas bit his lip, suddenly.
"Shit, Dean, I didn't mean it like that."
"Oh, sure you fucking didn't. Carry on, though. Don't let me stop you."
"Dean—"
"What, Cas?!"
"Dean, I just need time to talk to Michael—"
"You've had nothin' but time!" Dean bellowed. "Try ten fuckin' years! Does that sound like long enough for you?—'cause it sure does sound like plenty to me!"
"Dean, you should be supporting me in this!"
"How the fuck am supposed to do that anymore?! What the fuck am I supposed to keep doing?!"
"I don't know." Cas said, his voice turning suddenly very small and defeated—but Dean was way too past himself to even notice, let alone stop now, he was way to hammered.
"No, y'know what, Cas?! It's pretty fucking clear you don't give a shit about me, or our relationship. So y'know what I'm gonna do?! I'm gonna stop giving a shit, too. If you want, I can move out of here, get my own place, I can piss off if you really want that—"
"I don't want that—"
"Really?! 'cause it kinda seems like you do!"
"Oh, fuck off, Dean!" Cas yelled. "I'm fucking tired of this!"
"You and me both!" Dean shouted as Cas stormed out of the kitchen, slamming the door. He staggered up when he heard Cas pull open the front door, banging it against the wall as it swung open.
"What the fuck are you doing?!" He asked as Cas glared at him.
"Pissing off." Cas spat. "I need some time to fucking cool off; and I think you need to do the same!" He slammed the door behind him, so forcefully that the entire apartment shook. Dean staggered into the bedroom and glared down at the floor, sitting clumsily on the bed.
He couldn't fucking believe Cas. He wasn't nearly drunk enough for any of this. He reached down to one of his drawers, banging it open and pulling out its contents onto the bed.
He did the same with his next few drawers, and with all of his things in their shared wardrobe, clearing out the contents of every storage space of his. His vision was surprisingly clear, now, although his movements were still incredibly clumsy, and his mind still stormy, intoxicated by both all his alcohol and the rage clouding his mind. Speaking of alcohol, he was definitely due some more. He pulled himself into the kitchen and downed the rest of the contents of the bottle in one go—it had been a fucking tiny bottle anyway, already half-empty, too.
He clumsily stormed back into the living room, knocking over a lamp on his way, but he didn't bother picking it up. He pulled out all of his DVD's from their place, piling them up onto the floor. He fumed into the bathroom and picked up everything that was his, finally raging his way into the spare bedroom and picking up the biggest bag and suitcase he could find.
He was livid. Cas didn't give a shit, so neither did he.
But there was one more thing he could do, and so he picked up a pen from Cas' study and tore out a page of a notebook, scribbling angrily and drunkenly onto the page.
Cas came back a few hours later. He had walked all the way back to their old apartment, then back to his old apartment, then finally to the park to truly calm himself down, before having finally begun to make his way back home.
He and Dean had never had a fight so big. They had never raised their voices at each other so much, or for so long. He felt like shit. Dean probably did, too. And although he was still furious at his lover—for the way he had acted, what he had said, he also felt pretty bad about his own conduct.
For example, comparing Dean to his father had been a pretty low blow.
And Cas couldn't even blame Dean for being pissed about Cas wanting to keep everything a secret—after all, it would've seemed like Dean barely mattered at all to Cas; which really couldn't be farther from the truth. But Dean didn't know that.
"Dean?" Cas asked cautiously as he entered the apartment. There was no reply.
Dean would probably be wasted on their bed, passed out, which wouldn't be a surprise, really—considering just how much he'd been drinking. But as Cas looked about the living room, something was wrong.
Something was awfully wrong.
Something was missing.
He scanned the shelves of the cabinet beneath the TV, looked over to the corner where Dean's record player and records were kept, panic rising in his system and overwhelming him. He staggered forward—they were all gone—his heart pounding, he ran into their bedroom.
"Dean?!" He called. "Dean!" His voice raised further, dread and terror filling him, drowning him.
The bedroom was half empty, the drawers cleared, Dean's contents from the wardrobe cleared. Cas ran into the spare room, searching, his eyes scanning frantically.
"Dean" He cried out again, his eyes clouding over and tears dripping onto his face. A few boxes from their move were missing, a suitcase was gone, and a bag had been thrown across the room. Cas sprinted into the kitchen, his frame trembling as he looked about—even Dean's cooking stuff was gone.
Everything was gone.
Dean was—
No.
Dean couldn't have left.
He couldn't have.
Cas staggered back into the bedroom. He collapsed onto the bed, biting a sob into the pillow, and drew back as something crinkled audibly beneath his face. He picked it up—it was a note—Dean had left a note. Cas found himself desperately, hopelessly praying that it was just a simple business call; that Dean had been forced to leave suddenly for work at the garage—but why one earth was he hoping for that, when the answer was so very clear?! He couldn't bring himself to think of it. He blinked hard, pushing the rest of his tears out of his eyes, forcing himself to be able to see clearer, his hands trembling as he picked up the note, Dean's untidy, drunken scrawl difficult to make out.
Cas.
It read. Horrifically impersonal. Castiel wanted to be sick.
It's pretty clear to me now that you don't give a shit—that you never gave a shit
So I don't either. I don't give a fuck. I'm sick to death of all of this, and yeah, I'm leaving. And don't try to call me. Don't try to talk to me. Ever. Don't contact me at all—don't you dare—this isn't some stupid drunk decision I'm making because I'm hammered.
I fucking mean it.
I've left you.
You can keep the stupid fucking apartment and all the furniture, etc. I couldn't care less about all that shit, it means about as much to me as I mean to you. (Fuck all, apparently.)
I was gonna give you everything, Cas, but now I guess I'm not.
I don't give a shit about us anymore, and I don't give a crap about what it is you do with the rest of your life.
You can burn in hell, for all I care.
Dean.
Cas' tears brimmed over with tears. He started sobbing, his body broken and despairing, his heart aching in waves of sorrow and confusion.
He curled up into a ball onto the bed—he threw the paper onto the floor and wept until there were no tears left, until he was sobbing and moaning onto the bed with no further meaning, beyond reason. He couldn't stop crying. His face was a damp and clammy mess, and he wanted Dean's arms around his to tell him that everything was going to be okay, but he didn't have that. He didn't have Dean, anymore. He didn't have anything.
Another wave of sorrow and confusion crashed over him, crushing his body in despair and misery.
He picked up his phone. Another loud, tearless sob rocked from his body. He called his brother—Gabriel—more than any sibling, he wanted Anna to be there. He wanted fiery Anna to wipe the tears from his face and yell at Dean until her voice caved in. But Anna was miles away, an aeroplane flight's difference sat between the two of them.
And, Cas supposed, if he could, he wanted to cry to Michael the most. He wanted his oldest brother to comfort him and his broken heart. But he couldn't—Michael was the cause of all of these problems, and now Michael could never know about him. Never ever.
So he called Gabriel.
"Cas?" Gabriel asked from his end of the line.
Cas sobbed into the speaker, Gabriel drawing a sharp breath of shock.
"Cassie?" He asked, his voice filled with worry. "What's happened—are you okay—are you hurt?"
"It's Dean." Cas sobbed again, his tears finding themselves once more, and pouring onto his face.
"What's happened? What's wrong with Dean?"
"He's gone." Cas cried out, curling back onto the bed and rocking himself mindlessly, childishly, backwards and forwards.
There was silence from the other end of the line, for a moment, before Gabriel said quickly;
"I'm coming over."
His brother hung up the phone, and Cas curled himself tighter, unable to stop crying, unable to stop the sobs wracking their way through his body. He moaned loudly, crying out into the empty apartment, calling for Dean to return, to come back to him.
But he didn't.
Dean didn't come back to him.
A few hours later, Gabriel was at the door. He didn't bother knocking; he just stormed into the apartment, and into Cas' bedroom.
"Cas? What happened?" He asked, kneeling down by the bed.
"He left me." Castiel said hollowly. He picked up the note and shoved it in Gabriel's face, Gabriel scanned it, his face hardening as he did so, and he glared back up at Cas.
"Where is he now?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean: Where the fuck is Dean Winchester right now so I can beat the living shit out of him."
Cas' eyes welled up with tears once more.
"I don't know." He sobbed. "He's just gone."
Gabriel sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Castiel felt broken inside. He wanted to curl himself up tighter, wanted the earth to swallow him up, he wanted to stop existing, to stop feeling. He hurt too much to be able to carry on.
"Cassie, you've got to get out of here."
"Why?" Cas asked, his tone almost as flat and broken as he was.
"Because of this place. It's poison—he was poison. I can't believe he'd do this to you." Gabriel slammed a clenched fist onto Cas' bed, and Cas flinched away from it. "You've gotta get out of here. You can come stay with me, if you want. But staying here—it's gonna kill you, Cassie."
Cas nodded slowly. He was still crying. He didn't think he'd ever stop. His brother got up and made his way into the kitchen, and Cas heard him turning the kettle on and start clearing up in the room.
He ran a hand through his hair and sat up on the bed, sighing deeply and attempting not to fall back over as waves of sorrow rushed over with the motion. He wanted to be sick.
He made his way into the kitchen, too, sitting down quickly at the table, but seas of nausea and misery flooded his chest and his mind quickly when he noticed all the bottles that littered the table.
They were the only things Dean had left behind.
These, a note, and a broken heart.
Gabriel picked up as many of the bottles off the table as he could, rubbing Cas' shoulder gently, as comfortingly as possible, before dumping them all in the bin. The crash of the glass dropping made Cas recoil.
His brother set a cup in front of him, wrapping Cas' hands around it to warm him up.
"What happened?" He asked cautiously, sitting down opposite Cas with his own cup. "Why did he leave?"
Cas stared at a point on the table. The truth was, he didn't even know. He didn't want to think about it, either. It hurt too much.
He shrugged and Gabriel sighed, taking a sip of his drink.
"You don't have to tell me." His brother stated simply. "I don't expect you to. But it might help to talk about it."
There was a silence for a moment; Cas could practically hear his own mind working, trying to find some kind of way for this not to be real, for it to be some kind of dream—or nightmare—for Dean to still be with him. Misery was continuously wracking its way through his body, and it was exhausting. Cas just wanted to sleep. He wanted all of this to be some kind of mistake. He wanted Dean to run back into the apartment and tell Cas how sorry he was, how much he loved him.
Cas' eyes snapped back up to Gabriel's face. He could feel that his own expression was heavy, empty, filled with sorrow, and Gabriel looked worried and concerned for his little brother.
"I don't know." Cas croaked. "I don't know why he did this—I… I thought he loved me…" He broke off. He felt like such an idiot. He felt lost and alone and empty and he wasn't sure where home was anymore. "I don't want to carry on—I can't—not without him—"
"Don't say that, Cassie." Gabriel cut across. "You can, and you will."
"I can't." Cas sobbed.
"What happened?" Gabriel asked firmly again, forcefully changing the subject.
Castiel sighed and looked back down at his own drink.
"We had a fight…"
"What about?"
"I don't want to talk about this—"
"Well, you're gonna have to at some point. And I'm not gonna force you, but you might as well start now, anyway."
Cas bit his lip. He was so tired.
"It was about Michael—it was always about Michael." Cas sighed a sob again. He was right—it had always been about Michael. Their first fight, all Dean's worries over Christmas—Cas should've noticed. He should've realised this was coming. He should've told Michael.
"What do you mean?" Gabriel asked, frowning suddenly.
"Because I never told Michael about me being gay—and I think it always bothered Dean—well, I know it always bothered Dean." Cas broke off, feeling tears well up in his eyes once more. "But I never realised just how much… and today, Anna told Michael that I was engaged—she let it slip accidently—"
Gabriel sighed and rubbed his face. It was now completely dark outside the windows, a pitch black with only a few dim glows of streetlamps to be able to just make out the street below, and Cas glanced up at the clock—it was around midnight now. He wondered exactly how long ago it was that Dean had left.
"And then Michael called me." Cas sighed. "And he was all: 'Oh, Cassie, that's great! I'm so happy for you. I can't wait to meet her."
Gabriel pressed his lips together in a thin line. "So did you tell him?"
"No." Cas sighed. "I couldn't. I called Anna, and she told me to talk to Dean, but I was feeling too close to tears to actually call him. So I texted him."
"And what did you say?"
"I told him Michael knew that I was engaged, but that I couldn't tell him the truth. I told him about how he wanted to come and meet my fiancé soon."
"And what did he say?"
"He asked me what I wanted to do, and—" Cas heaved another half-sob-half-sigh, tears dripping onto his face again, "I said I wanted to keep it a secret. And I don't think he was happy about that."
Gabriel's lips returned into that thin line that made Cas feel nervous.
"And I came home," Cas continued, "And Dean was drunk. Really drunk. And he started shouting, saying how he 'clearly didn't mean shit to me', and that kind of thing, and I started shouting, too. And both of us got really angry. And then I stormed out—I said that I needed some air, and I walked about town for a bit—but then, when I came back…" Cas broke off, sobbing again. "He'd left me."
Gabriel looked at Castiel with something dangerously close to pity, and Cas hated it.
"Listen, Cas." His brother said firmly. "I don't know what the fuck was wrong with Dean—I'm fucking livid with him—I hate him for this, I really do, but we've gotta make sure you're okay. And you can't stay here. You can't stay here in this poisonous apartment with Dean's toxic letter and a broken heart—I can't let you do that to yourself, I'm sorry. You're gonna crash at mine tonight. You can sell this place—we'll get you better, I promise the pain will stop, I really do, and then we can get onto revenge, or whatever it is you want to do to Dean. Whatever it is, he fucking deserves it."
But Cas wasn't angry right now. He was broken with sorrow and misery. He wanted Dean back. Right now, he'd accept any kind of apology from him. He didn't want revenge; he wanted Dean's arms wrapped around him, telling him that everything was going to be okay. He couldn't stand all of this pain. He didn't think he ever would get better—he didn't believe that was possible. Dean had burrowed into his heart and set up a home there; and without a warning or a second word, he had left Castiel, leaving his entire universe shattered in broken pieces on the floor, for Cas to attempt to pick up.
Now that Dean was gone, Cas didn't know where home was anymore.
Oh shit. Like I said, I'm so fucking sorry. And I know, I'm basically satan. Just call me Lucifer from now on. Please keep on reading - the next chapter will be up really soon, and, like I said, I swear to everything ever that this fic is gonna have the happiest of happy endings. We'll get there. Just keep pushing through, 'cause we've got a hell of a lot of angst and feels coming up. (well, more, anyway.)
Damn Michael. Ruining everything. (Kind of unintentionally though..?)
Next update will probably be tomorrow-ish. I'm sorry if this chapter broke you.