Tipping the Hourglass
Chapter 13: When the World Falls
"Are you… alright?" Sam's voice slipped into his room, Dean looking up from where he was lying on the bed. His face had been submerged in the pillows, his eyes wide open as he rehashed what had happened that day. "You've been in there all night…" Which was odd seeing as he and Ruby were, technically, Dean's guests.
"I'm fine Sam," he droned out for the second time that evening. Was it so much to ask to just be left alone?
"Dean, I'm not stupid," Sam snapped back, growing irritated with his brother's attitude. "Would you just tell me what's wrong?" He didn't get a response, the lack of communication spurring him to bring up the subject he had, till that moment, been avoiding. "I'm surprised Cas isn't here."
"Fuck off Sam."
Yup, he was going in. Casting Ruby, who was sitting at the dining table, one single exasperated look, he reached down for the doorknob and pushed his way into Dean's room. He swore, sometimes, that his brother could be the epitome of a drama queen.
"Get out," Dean issued as soon as Sam had closed the door behind him. Dean was sitting up in bed, glaring at his younger sibling. Dressed in only a tank top and pajama pants, with a bag of potato chips on his end table, he appeared even more pathetic than Sam had anticipated. Besides, the apparent red marks running down his cheeks weren't exactly promising.
"What happened Dean?" Sam asked, not at all fazed by his brother's attitude as he made his way over and sat down on the edge of the bed beside him. "You know you're going to tell me one way or another, so might as well make it as easy as possible." A lecture he gave his brother regularly to no effect.
This time, however, Dean didn't meet his pushing with a rebellious stare, as was usual. Instead, attention falling to the sheets, any sense of anger that had been etched into his face fell away to depression.
Sam was concerned, to say the least.
"Cas and I…" Dean started after a moment, his voice quiet. "We're… we're finished." Did "break-up" even justify what they'd been? With Michael in the picture, had they ever actually been together at all?
"What?" Sam was honestly surprised to hear as much. "Why? How?" Because Dean had seemed so happy earlier. And Cas too. What could have happened during the time he was with Gabriel to usurp their cloud nine status so efficiently?
"Turns out," Dean clicked his tongue bitterly, "that Cas had a boyfriend back in Chicago that he's been cheating on this whole time." The words were hard and disgusting even as they came out of his mouth, Dean's hurt feelings rising up again as he considered them.
"Oh…" Sam replied lamely, not exactly sure what to make of the news. Dean simply shook his head however, clearly defeated by the whole thing.
"I never should have trusted him," he claimed. "I should have known it was too good to be true."
"Don't say that Dean," Sam tried to comfort. "I saw him with you earlier. So… maybe he didn't tell you about someone he had in Chicago. That doesn't mean what he felt for you wasn't in earnest. Have you talked to him about it?"
"What's there to talk about Sam?" Dean asked sharply, looking back up at his brother. "He lied to me. To my face. And then this Michael guy shows up and…" He shook his head.
"Michael?" Sam asked. "That's the… boyfriend?" Dean didn't need to reply to verify the answer. "And he's here…?" Sam cringed, supposing that had probably been one of the most awkward situations ever. Not to say Cas hadn't deserved it if what Dean said was true. Sam was pretty easily able to look at things subjectively however, and didn't cast Cas off entirely, as Dean apparently was.
"What does that say about the kind of person he is?" Dean asked. "That he'd cheat on someone the way he cheated with me? You haven't been here. It was… heavy, and serious," he glanced back down at the sheets, fingering them in irritation. "I just don't understand why he wouldn't have told me."
"Dean, that's not… exactly fair…" Sam offered hesitantly and his older brother scoffed.
"That's what he said."
"Dean…" Sam scooted slightly back on the bed. "Let's be realistic here. You and Cas have only been together a few days. Almost a week, maybe," that was stretching it. "I mean, maybe he was cheating – and I'm not saying I advocate that – but I don't think it's quite that black and white. You two have been moving… really fast. Maybe he just didn't have the time to… end it with this Michael guy."
"How do you know he was even going to end it with him at all?"
"Well… wasn't he?" Sam asked, supposing Dean would know better than he did.
"I don't know," Dean snapped. "He said he was, did, end it, but…"
"So you have spoken to him about it," Sam determined. "What did he say? You said he ended it with his boyfriend. Did he do it so he could be with you?" His barrage of questions caused Dean to sigh and roll his eyes, Sam taking the hint before closing his mouth.
"He said that… that…" Dean didn't even know if he could repeat it. Perhaps because it was so huge, but also because… because considering that maybe it was true pained him considerably. "He said that he loved me. And that he broke up with Michael to be with me."
"Well then what's the problem?" Sam asked, not bothered by the whole "love" thing.
"The problem is that he lied to me!" Dean repeated, meeting his brother's gaze once again. "Like, really, I heard him do it. Right in front of me."
"When?"
"When he found out Michael was here."
"Dean…" Sam sighed. "He was probably panicking."
"Because he'd lied to me in the first place…"
"Okay," Sam agreed hollowly. "But it sounds to me like he lied for all the right reasons." At least where Dean was concerned. Probably not in that Michael guy's case, but Sam was hardly obligated to care about a stranger. "If you'd known he had a boyfriend, would you have even considered pursuing him?" Dean didn't answer. "And it'd be terrible to break up with someone over the phone, which would mean that Cas wouldn't have even been able to consider it until he'd returned to Chicago, at which point any chance he'd had with you would have been basically dead."
"I can't figure out if you're on my side here or his…" Dean replied childishly.
"He said he loved you, didn't he? Again?" Sam shook his head. "What are you doing Dean? This guy has admitted that to you twice now. Ended a relationship for you. And you're just going to sit here and throw yourself a pity party? C'mon…"
"It's not that simple Sam," Dean ground out from behind gritted teeth. "He still lied and I…" He had trust issues, plain and simple.
"Dean, you have to take a chance."
"I did."
"No, you almost jumped and then backed out at the last minute," Sam countered. "What were you and Cas going to do when he had to go back to Chicago? Were you just going to let it end there? I'm not stupid Dean. You pretend like you trusted him, but you always had one foot out the door. Because you knew that, at the end of his visit, he was leaving. So he was safe. And this is just an excuse for you to validate that."
"He asked me to move to Chicago with him," Dean mentioned quietly, Sam pausing in his speech to raise his eyebrows in surprise. And a few seconds later he groaned in frustration, as if totally and completely fed up with his brother.
"Dean!" he moaned. "What are you doing?" He covered his face with his hands momentarily and shook his head. "He asked you to move there with him? How much more certainty do you need? Even if he did have a boyfriend, it's not like he'd have been able to hide it forever. If he was asking you that, then I think his choice was pretty clear!"
"That doesn't explain why he didn't tell me," Dean tried to reason.
"Why should he have?" Sam asked straight. "This Michael guy has nothing to do with you. If you'd moved with him to Chicago and this boyfriend of his was out of the picture, you never even would have known." Dean looked up at him, as if to ask how any of this was supposed to make him feel better. "There's a reason, Dean, why when you're in a new relationship, you don't ask about previous partners. Because it's none of your business."
"He claimed I was his boyfriend when he already had one!"
"Yeah, and he had all of, what, a week to realize he wanted you instead and then end an entire relationship? Wow Dean, way to tighten those expectations." Sam rolled his eyes, no longer willing to be soft on his brother. "If this Michael guy hadn't shown up, I'm betting he would have ended it. And maybe he would have told you, and because it would have already been over with, you wouldn't have cared."
"Sam…" Dean was getting more and more frustrated. "What you're saying is great and all, you know, super helpful, but that's not what happened. He lied to me, I found out he lied to me, and it's bullshit."
"Did you ever ask him if he had a boyfriend?" Sam asked flatly.
"No…"
"Then he didn't lie to you."
"He did earlier about… something else. When we were headed back to meet Michael."
"Yeah, he probably did," Sam said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Let's see, he'd been on his way to go confront the boyfriend he hasn't had a decent amount of time to break up with yet accompanied by the man he's now found himself to be in love with. Hmm, yeah, I'd say most people would do some stupid things if put in that situation." He eyed Dean critically. "He's human Dean, a very… socially awkward human. He's gonna make mistakes just like everyone else. And no, he shouldn't have cheated on his boyfriend, but you said it yourself he broke up with him for you. That says a lot." He paused to take a breath. "You're just using this as an excuse to chicken out."
"No I'm not…" he objected, but Sam didn't look convinced. "Is it so bad that what he did bothered me?" Was he not allowed to feel hurt?
"It's not bad," Sam answered. "I don't blame you for being hurt, but it's not big enough to throw away what you had." Because even Sam had been able to tell it was good for him. "Sometimes Dean, when you want something, someone, you have to fight for them. Not curl up and close your eyes at the slightest hint of difficulty."
"I am perfectly capable of fighting for what I want."
"No you're not," Sam disagreed harshly. "You give up, Dean. You accept your life as it is and refuse to look for anything better. It's why you never went to school, it's why you never left this town, and it's why you're now going to give up Cas. Because you'd rather plod along the easy path than take a chance on something that might be a bit more complicated.
"Fight for him Dean, if you want him. Screw that Michael guy. He picked you, didn't he? So take what's yours!"
Silent, Dean considered his words, eventually sighing as he shook his head. Were he in better sorts, had more energy, he might have had more snark to rebuke with, but, as things were, he was tired, exhausted, and all too willing to accept that his brother's words were right. Maybe it was because there was finally something at stake, something that actually depended on his actions. He'd never had an education, so he'd never had anything to give up. He'd never had anywhere to go, so he'd never left. But Cas…
Cas, even if for only a few days, it'd been his bed that he'd lain in. In his arms that he'd found refuge. Maybe a week – less than a week – was nothing in the grand scheme of things, but it'd happened. Cas knew that and so did he. There was nothing, no one, that could deny that reality. Those times would always be between them, memories only they shared, and the only way they could possibly be lost was if they gave them up.
If Dean did.
Maybe he was mad, and hurt, and maybe he would be for a while yet. But did that justify losing Cas altogether?
Was that really what he wanted?
Atop his end table, the jarring sound of his phone vibrating interrupted his thoughts. Reaching over, he answered it, his greeting a little meaner than perhaps necessary. "Hello?"
"Dean?"
"Chuck?" Not who he'd been expecting, if he'd been expecting anyone at all. "How do you have my number?"
"What? I… I got it from Mrs. Novak."
"Why does Mrs. Novak have my number?"
"Because she has Cas's phone!" Chuck shouted, Dean raising his eyebrows in slight affront, but refraining from making any comment. "Now, please, is Cas with you?"
"Uh, no…"
"What? Really? I thought for sure he'd be with you…" Chuck seemed to mutter to himself. "Do you know where he is?"
"No…" Dean's eyes fell awkwardly to the side. "Cas and I aren't exactly on speaking terms right now…"
"What? Are you serious?!" He was shouting.
"Dude!" Dean was getting fed up with his attitude. "What the hell is your problem?" Fricken' douche. Calls up his phone and then yells at him, and then acts like it's his fault!
"My problem?!" Chuck sounded far too upset to care about being sworn at. "My 'problem' is that no one can fucking find Cas, that's my problem!" Dean raised his eyebrows in alarm, not having expected such a retort.
"What do you mean no one can find him?"
"Don't you know what happened?" Chuck asked, Dean's silence hinting that he didn't, which resulted in a sigh on the other line. "How are you so far behind? Didn't anyone tell you? Fricken' Cas's dad found out man. Found out that he's gay!" Dean's eyes popped open wide at that, his body tensing as he threw his legs over the side of the bed, as if that would somehow make him more attentive.
"What do you mean he 'found out?' What happened?" Dean asked, all seriousness now.
"I don't know the details," Chuck replied. "I'm hearing this, like, third hand. Sort of. From what Anna told me, Naomi told her that Jim basically disowned him before kicking him out of the house." Dean, his breath falling short, felt his face drain of all color, his mood sinking even further, if at all possible. "After that, I guess Mrs. Novak got into a huge fight with Cas's dad, so he left to go back to the church or something, which was when she called Anna."
"Anna and Balthazar weren't at the house when this happened?" Dean asked.
"No, they were taking Michael back to the airport," Chuck explained. "But anyway, Cas never came back home and now Mrs. Novak is, like, freaking out. She called Anna to see if she'd heard from Cas, and then Anna called me, and then I called Mrs. Novak, which is how I got your number. I think she wanted to call you herself, she's been calling everyone in his phone, but I volunteered to instead, so…"
"Okay…" Dean shook his head, casting his brother a curious look despite the fact that Sam didn't have any idea what was going on. "Cas doesn't want to talk to anyone then. He'll show up eventually." After all, it wasn't like he was a child or something. Granted, Dean was worried now, for Cas's emotional sake, but he wasn't going to go hunt him down.
"No Dean, we need to look for him," Chuck said it like he was stupid, to which Dean pursed his lips in offense. "You know how his dad found out about him?" Obviously, Dean didn't. "Somebody went snooping around your apartment snapping pictures of you two mid-fornication." Those green eyes popped wide. "Gave them to Cas's dad, which tells me, and anyone else in this homophobic town, that someone is out to hurt him."
"You think Cas is in danger," Dean determined seriously, his stomach twisting in abrupt apprehension. Beside him, Sam cocked his head to the side in curious concern, but said nothing.
"Yeah, I do," Chuck snapped. "Haven't you read any of those news reports about gays being harassed in towns like this? If someone is gutsy enough to spy on you two, then they're probably gutsy enough to do other things. And we all know Cas isn't going to think of that kind of thing." Which was true. Cas wouldn't put the pieces together. "Man!" Chuck swore under his breath. "I really thought he'd be with you…"
"You, him, and Samandriel have been friends since high school," Dean stated. "You know anywhere he would go?"
"No," Chuck said in frustration. "We weren't exactly the types to hang around the local gas station or something." More or less they'd stayed inside playing video games and comparing Magic cards. "We need to find him." Too bad he'd left his phone at home.
"Well, sitting around talking about it isn't going to help," Dean stood, as if set in action. "Have you guys called around to the local hotels or hospitals or anything?"
"No…"
"Well, start there," he ordered. "Sam and I will check with the police and see if there's been anything reported. Is Samandriel with you?"
"He's on his way over here," Chuck offered, clearing his throat and trying to sound as confidently commanding as Dean. "And Anna and Balthazar are on their way back." Dean was nodding to himself, soon at his dresser as he pulled out a pair of worn jeans.
"If we don't hear anything, we'll start looking ourselves," Dean established as he dropped his pajama pants and slipped on the jeans, not at all bothered by Sam. Who, in turn, wasn't bothered by him. "I'll call you back in a little while." Chuck agreed and, set in their mission, they hung up, Dean looking up at Sam as he buttoned his pants. "Cas is missing," he stated what Sam had already put together. "His dad kicked him out of the house after finding out he's gay and no one's heard from him since."
"You think something happened to him?" Sam asked.
"I don't know," Dean shrugged. "Probably he just went off on his own to be alone or something, but…" he sighed, "I guess someone got pictures of him and I… you know…" he made a vulgar motion with his hand, "and gave them to his father." Sam cringed, not only for Cas's sake, but Dean's too. "And Chuck's worried that whoever was ballsy enough to do that might go after Cas directly."
"That… could be a valid concern," Sam agreed as he stood. "I'll call the police station. And, uh… I'll pretend to be someone else." Dean furrowed his eyebrows. "This town is full of homophobic assholes," he continued. "And you were in those pictures too Dean." His implication dropped down heavily, Dean pausing to realize that, just as Cas had been outed, he had been too.
He'd never planned for that. How far had word travelled, and to who?
"Right," he agreed roughly, his eyes falling to focus on the carpet. Pursing his lips sympathetically, Sam tried to think of something to say, but eventually decided that finding Cas would be the best comfort. Heading out of the bedroom, he went to the table where Ruby was sitting, his phone there beside his laptop. Sitting down, he quickly looked up the phone number for the station before dialing it and waiting. Aware of the serious atmosphere, Ruby glanced, first, to her boyfriend, who said nothing, before deferring her questioning look to Dean, who'd walked in and plopped down at the table as well.
"Cas is missing," he muttered to her, not at all anxious at revealing the news. He'd known the woman for a little over five years after all, which meant he'd grown quite accustomed to her presence.
"Yes, good evening," Sam had started into his phone, Ruby appearing all the more curious by Dean's vague explanation. "My name's Thomas Wayward and I was wondering if there's been any reports on…" What exactly was he looking for? "Violent crimes in the last afternoon?"
He listened to the response, Dean and Ruby watching his face for any kind of positive response. They didn't get one however, Sam's expression only darkening.
"Nothing's been reported all day?" he asked a second later. Pause. "No, I just thought I heard about something earlier, but if there hasn't been anything at all, then I must have been mistaken… right… thank you." He pulled the phone from his ear and hung up.
"Nothing?" Dean asked needlessly.
"Nope," Sam sighed, his hand falling to the table. "Guess we just wait on Chuck then."
"I don't want to," Dean was standing again, wandering over to the window and glancing out. The snow, though no longer blizzard levels, was falling heavily still, his lips falling into a frown as he watched it. Was Cas really out in this? He hoped not. Wherever he was, hopefully there was a roof over his head. "We might as well sta-"
Before he could finish, his own phone vibrated in his pocket. Quickly answering it once again, Dean waited for an explanation. Chuck didn't have any good news however, stating that Cas hadn't checked into any of the hotels in town and that the hospital had relayed similar results.
"We start searching the rest of the town then," Dean established, Chuck quickly agreeing and asking whether they should meet up or not. Dean supposed they should, to hash out how to divide up Burr, and soon he was taking note of where Chuck's house was located before hanging up.
"Let's go," Dean ordered as soon as the conversation had ended. Sam was on his feet and grabbing his coat immediately, Ruby glancing around in concern. She was told that she should remain where she was however, if only in case Cas showed up at the apartment.
Swathed in his leather jacket, Dean was tromping through the snow after his brother to his car within moments, the night seemingly ignited by the glow of snow. Slamming themselves into the Impala, Dean was soon forcing the slipping tires through the snow and out into the road. Windshield wipers screaming, he punched it through town to the location Chuck had given him, neither him nor Sam speaking as they considered the situation.
Chuck and Samandriel were waiting out in the driveway of Chuck's small, brick abode, but they weren't the only ones. There was another car in the drive as well, likely a rental, and Anna as well as Balthazar were speaking with them.
"Who's that?" Sam asked as they pulled in, gesturing to the fifth and final addition to the party out in the snow.
Dean scowled. "Michael." He glared. "I thought he was going back to Chicago…"
Sam didn't comment.
Exiting the car, they hunkered their way up to the porch – under the glow of Chuck's outdoor lights. Dean could feel his neck bristling the closer he got to Michael, but only his concern for Cas kept him from turning around and leaving in a huff.
"Hear anything?" Dean asked as they approached, his eyes directed at Chuck. Upon him and Sam joining the group, they drew the attention of everyone, the tension seeming to rise. Not that anyone was fool enough to question why. The way Dean was avoiding Michael, and the way he too was avoiding him, spelled everything out quite efficiently.
"No," Chuck shook his head, his arms hugged around him as he shivered in the snow. "Mrs. Novak's been calling though. She's real worried."
"We'll find him," Dean assured confidently.
"How can you be so sure?" That voice battered at Dean's skull like a crowbar, his eyes unintentionally snapping to that tall, suit-laden figure. Michael, in all his successful, business-like glory, was looking directly at him, those sharp eyes challenging. Or so Dean perceived them.
"Because I've lived here my whole life," he assured tightly, "and know the town like the back of my hand. If Cas is here, I'll find him." Or one of them would, but it sounded much more threatening when he said it so possessively. Which he wasn't ashamed to admit was his intent. Michael seemed to get the message, if the way his eyes narrowed said anything.
"Don't even start," Anna interjected swiftly. "This isn't about what's been going on between you three. This is about finding Cas." She wasn't going to tiptoe around the subject. "Fight about it later." In bringing up the subject however, she broke the ice and made it easier for a direct approach.
"Why is he even here?" Dean asked rather rudely, still staring at his nemesis.
"None of your fucking business," Michael rebuked hotly.
"Enough!" Anna practically shouted. "The plane back to Chicago was delayed because of the storm, alright? Can we move on please? Cas is out there somewhere, alone, and we need to find him. Before he freezes to death or something." Her shoulders dropped in a sulking manner, her eyes flicking warningly between the two men instigating the problem.
Dean saw her point, however, and rolled his eyes before looking back at Chuck, as if he was a designated team leader. "We'll start on the south side of the town and work our way east. You two start north and go west. Check every bar and street along the way. We'll meet up at the Wal-Mart near Center and search that last." He didn't give the group any other options, his eyes surveying them all quickly (though he did linger on Mic hael a little longer than he should have) before he deemed the decision made and turned back to his car. Sam came along behind him, Balthazar skipping into action and trailing them thirdly. Anna and Michael went with Chuck and Samandriel, the Chicago natives likely being as good as useless on their own.
Climbing back into the impala, Balthazar took up the back seat just as Dean was beginning to back out into the road. Punching the gas, he hunched his shoulders as he drove, his eyes watching the darkness. Sam was looking out similarly, Balthazar attempting to do the same.
Until his was overcome by curiosity. "I'm somewhat surprised," Balthazar started eventually, "that Cas didn't go immediately to your apartment, after his father confronted him, that is." Dean's apartment, or so his speech implied.
"Cas and Dean are fighting," Sam explained when his older brother didn't answer.
"Oh…" Balthazar raised his eyebrows to himself. "I suppose I should have expected as much."
Huffing, Dean glared out at the snow.
oOo
"I am seriously starting to get worried," Anna was saying as they all walked back out into the Wal-Mart parking lot. "He's been missing for hours." She wasn't the only one with similar sentiments, the group eerily silent as they stood out in the snow-littered lot around their cars. They'd already searched the town, or at least as well as they could considering the weather. They'd stopped by every twenty-four hour outlet, every park (though there were only two) and even the old high school. Lastly they'd gone to the Wal-Mart, calling Cas's name over the intercom in the hopes that he was in the store. But, alas, he hadn't come, which left them, at three in the morning, with nothing more to say on their efforts than when they'd started.
"I don't know where else he could have gone," Samandriel mentioned helplessly. "There're only so many places you can go in this town."
"Maybe he went back to Chicago," Balthazar suggested. "To the airport?"
"Naomi has all his things," Anna shook her head. "His wallet, ID, and debit card. He couldn't get far without any of that." Let alone get on a plane. "He has to be here somewhere…"
"I wish he'd taken his damn phone," Dean swore angrily, shivering up into his jacket. "Fricken' idiot." His harsh words were based in concern, his nerves far more frazzled than when they'd first commenced the search. Because where else could they possibly look? Was Cas outside somewhere, freezing? Was he hurt? Had something happened? The snow-layered darkness hampered their search so considerably, he really couldn't say if they'd looked well enough or not.
"He was upset," Michael seemed to be reprimanding Dean, despite the fact that he'd been more wronged by Cas than the man whom he addressed. But maybe he was misdirecting his blame. "Taking his phone was probably the last thing on his mind. Cas doesn't always think when he's… panicking."
"So I've noticed," Dean muttered in ill humor.
"Are you always such a prick?" Michael asked him directly. "You're not even the one he cheated on."
"Fuck you!"
"Hey, hey, let's just… take it easy," Sam stepped between them, his hands visibly lowering the attitude. "This isn't going to help us find Cas." His tall, broad form did well in separating the two. Even against Michael he was still bigger, but a physical intervention wasn't enough to quell Dean's temper.
"Neither is he!" he accused roughly, gesturing toward Michael. "Might as well go back to the airport as helpful as he's been." Sam eyed his older brother warningly, but it didn't seem to do any good. "Probably better off without him."
"This entire thing is your fault!" Michael head-butted back into the conversation. "If you hadn't been sleeping with him in the first place, his father never would have found out he's gay!"
"Oh yeah?!" Dean went to take a threatening step toward him, Michael puffing his chest up in response.
"That's enough!" Sam held his long arms out between them, his palm actually colliding with Dean's chest. "Grow up, both of you! This can wait till later." Their focus was getting sidetracked. Not that thinking continually on Cas had done them any good. But perhaps that was the problem – no amount of attention had gotten them any closer to finding the missing man.
"Whatever," Dean said after a moment of tense silence, shoving Sam's hand away from him. "We need to re-search the park outside town. A lot of snow's fallen since this afternoon." In other words, if something had happened to Cas, they'd best make sure to search every drift there was. A thought none of them considered happily.
Glancing only once more at Michael, Dean growled before turning and heading back to his car. Casting the group an apologetic frown, Sam did same, Balthazar jumping into action so as to catch up before getting left behind.
Slamming his way into the Impala, Dean waited the few seconds for the other two to get in before pulling out of the parking spot and heading back toward the road. He knew Sam was looking at him disapprovingly, but he, honestly, didn't care. He was right after all. Michael had no reason to be there, stuck as he was. Him and Cas were through and as far as Dean was concerned, he should be checked into an airport hotel as far away from Burr as he could get.
"You really should try and be the bigger person here Dean," Sam eventually started, looking out the windshield as he did. Behind them, Balthazar listened, not too intent on getting involved. "He's probably just as worried about Cas as you are."
"Him and Cas are over," Dean stated harshly, as if that should somehow nullify Michael's justification in being concerned.
"Yeah, just today," Sam replied honestly. "It's not like his feelings for Cas are just going to evaporate. You're being unreasonable."
"You know, I'm still having trouble figuring out whose side you're on."
"You know I'm always on your side Dean, which is why I'm trying to help you. Michael isn't your problem and acting nasty to him is only going to lose you points, no matter how you look at it. Whether Cas cheated on him or not, they were still together and he probably wouldn't appreciate you acting like dick to him."
"He's right," Balthazar interjected quickly.
Dean growled.
"You shouldn't let him get to you," Sam continued. "Cas picked you in the end, didn't he? You said he asked you to move to Chicago with him. And that he loved you. As far as Michael, you've already won, so you'd do better to have sympathy for him, not be angry with him. He's on the losing end." Dean supposed he couldn't argue with that, no matter how much he wanted to.
"Cas asked you to move to Chicago?" Balthazar questioned, clearly surprised. "And he said he loved you?"
"Yup," Dean verified without any further elaboration.
"Wow," Balthazar sat back, slumping in wonder. "That's just… I wouldn't have expected him to be so rash." Not exactly a positive outlook on the situation, Dean pursing his lips. "Not to say anything against you," he reached up and patted Dean encouragingly on the shoulder. "Cas is just sort of a… private person. Doesn't invite people into his life too flippantly."
"He said he lives with Michael," Dean commented.
"Well certainly, yes," Balthazar agreed, "but it took a good six months for Michael to convince him, and that was after they'd already been together a year. Even now, when I'm over at their place," Dean cringed at the use of "their," "I get the feeling that Cas isn't entirely comfortable."
"Maybe it isn't so much the situation as it is the person," Sam commented, not wanting Dean to feel discouraged from taking Cas up on his offer. Anything to get him out of Burr.
"Well, I'm not contradicting that," Balthazar assured. "Not to say Michael and Cas weren't seemingly good together, but I will admit that I'd never seen him quite so happy as he was with you, Dean." He was looking at the back of the driver's head. "You should take the many smiles he showers you with as great compliments. The rest of us see them far more rarely."
Dean couldn't bring himself to comment.
Looking ahead, he narrowed his eyes at the snow as it pummeled the windshield, as if his sheer determination could vanquish it and reveal the bare town of every hidden crevice that Cas could have possibly crawled into.
Where was he…?
"Dean," Sam pulled his attention a second later, that serious tone alerting him. His younger brother was staring down at his phone, at a text message, and it wasn't until he held it up for Dean to read that its importance was validated.
The message was from Gabriel, and all it read was an address.
"That's the old Whitherpool place," Dean murmured breathily, the glow of the phone igniting the cab of the car. Focusing his gaze from the phone to Sam, he saw the serious, knowing look in his brother's eyes, getting the message without any further pushing.
"What's the Whitherpool place?" Balthazar asked up to them.
"It's an old abandoned house outside of town," Sam explained as he put his phone away. "It's a thirty minute walk, but easily reached by car. Lots of parties went down there, lots of drinking. A kind of high school hangout back in our day, before it was deemed dangerous by the township. Nobody goes there now."
"Nobody… except Cas?" Balthazar asked.
"Guess we're gonna find out," Dean muttered. Knowing exactly where he was going, he registered his nerves jump into hyper drive as he swung his car around on the next right. Barely letting up on the gas, the vehicle slid through the slush as he punched it, the car that had been following them hastily coming after despite how they were detouring from their original destination.
Dean didn't care however. Instead, engine revving, he sped through town until they hit the empty, straight stretch of highway that led out into the Kansas countryside. In the backseat, he could hear Balthazar's phone ringing, the other man answering it and explaining where they were headed, of what little relevance that actually was.
Not caring at all for the condition of the road or the weather, Dean flexed his hands on the steering wheel, knowing, somehow, that this was it. This was where Cas would be.
Why or how he'd gotten there, however, were questions they'd just have to wait to answer.
"Look, there it is," Sam pointed out the window some silent minutes later, his gaze focused on a dark heap of old house and broken fence. Slowly pulling up beside the driveway, Dean peered at the snow-covered entrance and decided that, no matter his determination, there was no way his Baby was going to get in there. Instead, driving up on the side of the road, he left in running and put on the four ways, ordering that Balthazar stay with the car despite objections. As it were, he and Sam climbed out together, Dean's emergency flashlights in their hands.
"How did you know to come here?" Chuck asked as they stalked toward the unplowed driveway, his own car in much the same state back behind them. Unfortunately, it had been deemed that Anna stay behind with his car, meaning that Michael was coming up on them as well. Yet, for the first time, Dean didn't care. He had a lead. He was going to find Cas.
"Dean, look," Chuck's question was thoroughly ignored by the two brothers, who were shining their flashlights at the yard and driveway of the house. Sam was crouching down at the foot of the drive, his light reflecting off the snow there. "See these indentations?" Dean came up behind him. "The snow here was recently beat down by car tires and then covered up with fresh snow. Someone's been here…"
"Woulda been something with four-wheel drive to get through this," Dean determined, all the more curious now as to why Cas would be there. It was more concerning than anything else – for reasons he wasn't too bent on actually entertaining. "C'mon, let's go." Nodding, him and Sam went on bravely, Chuck, Samandriel, and Michael looking at one another before following after. Boots pushing on through the calf-high snow, they stayed along the edge of the car tracks, which were hardly visible beneath the drifts in some places (and because of the darkness. It wasn't as though the abandoned house had yard lights). Thankfully, as they forced their way up the long driveway, large, empty, overhanging branches had blocked some of the snow and wind. And as they approached the decrepit old house, some of the tracks closest were even totally visible.
"Don't step in them," Dean issued harshly as he pushed Chuck back by the shoulder, who'd been so intent on getting out of the deep snow that he'd nearly jumped into the packed down path. "We may need those tracks later." Dean didn't voice why, but if the cops ended up involved, and evidence was necessary…
Chuck, somewhat put-off by Dean's attitude, frowned, but didn't object. It was pretty clear he didn't understand the significance of the tracks however. Not that anyone was going to explain.
The house was an intimidating sight. Two stories high, it was a wooden-sided old farmhouse. The white paint had long since faded to a shabby, chipped gray, and the shingles atop the roof were completely gone in some areas. The planks on the deck were eaten away at the edges and creaked as they stepped up onto them, and many of the windows were busted and nailed up with wood so as to keep out curious teenagers. One side of the house, the left side, had collapsed in on itself, the snow piling in, and Dean wondered how long it'd be until the rest of it would cave too.
"This place always gave me the creeps," Samandriel muttered as they made their way up under the awning. "I heard it was haunted…"
"It is," Chuck assured. "Fifty years ago, there was an old farmer here that got so angry over his daughter sleeping with a hoodlum in town that he murdered her. True story. I've read about it in the newspaper archives." He then shivered, Dean rolling his eyes. During his youth, he and his football buddies had come and hung out in and around the house many times, and they'd never encountered any ghosts. Load of bullshit as far as he was concerned.
"Sam," Dean said his brother's name sharply as he slipped through the thin layer of snow on the porch. "Someone rigged this to look locked." He'd approached the door, which had been padlocked shut by the cops years before. "The padlock isn't actually doing anything." Pulling on it, the clasp easily broke away, Dean looking down at the lock before dropping it heavily to the floor.
"Dean…" Sam looked at his brother knowingly, the other returning the look before taking a deep breath and reaching out to flip the latch that would let them inside. Pushing on the door, it slowly slid open, oddly silent as the musty, unused stench wafted from the house.
"I can't believe I'm going in here…" Chuck was muttering as they slowly filed inside, flashlights flicking around quickly in search of anything that might be important. What they saw were a couple of bird corpses along holes in the windows, snow crowding in from the collapsed roof on the left, and peeling wallpaper. There were some old, seventies-styled couches and tables as well, which were either broken and leaning, or eaten away by rodents. A thick layer of dust covered everything, a slight glow from the left filtering in with the snow.
"Cas?" Dean called out gruffly, his voice falling flat against a creak of the old house – as if to answer his call. Nothing else greeted them however, Sam meeting Dean's eyes only quickly before they headed further into the house. Michael, not nearly as spooked as Chuck and Samandriel, made his way along the left side, by the debris, his own tiny flashlight searching. Dean headed to the back room, Sam going along the right while Chuck and Samandriel stood back stupidly, not knowing what to do.
Dean's search granted him nothing however, much to his own frustration, and it was only upon hearing Sam call his name that he hasted his actions. Going back the way he'd come, he saw his brother's flashlight over by the stairs that led up into the second story, Michael's bobbing toward them on the other side of the house.
"What?" Dean asked gruffly as he approached.
"Look at that step," Sam set his flashlight on the fifth step up, which was splintered half way down the middle. "Look at the splinters. They're not covered in grime. That step was broken recently."
"You think some idiot went up there?" Dean asked. Because it was one thing to go in the house and quite another to take the stairs. Not even Dean and his friends had done that. Above their heads, they could see where the supports to the floor were cracked and collapsing, holes even apparent in some areas.
"I don't know," Sam shook his head. "But I don't know what else, other than a human, could have been heavy enough to break that step."
Dean growled. "Cas?!" he shouted. "You up there?!"
Nothing.
"Guess we're going up," Michael determined bravely, Dean unsure whether to commend his decision or be irritated with it. As if to make up for the remark, Dean didn't even hesitate as he set his foot on the first step, which moaned under his weight.
"One at a time," he issued severely to the others, taking another step up. Slowly but surely, while lifting his foot completely over the cracked fifth step, he made his way up, feeling no more secure once he'd reached the top. Michael came after him, then Sam, Chuck and Samandriel remaining at the bottom at Sam's command. There was no telling how much weight the second story could take.
Upstairs, the house was divided into three sections, one hall that led to a long room on the right, a center door to the back, and a mirroring hall to the left. Nodding to each other, the three men spread out between it, Dean finding himself heading along the most treacherous route as he lined the left area of the house that had fallen apart. The door to the room was still intact however and, careful as he stepped into the room there, he looked at the far side where the floor was splintered and broken, and tried to control his stomach as it flipped. Because falling through there, into the pile of pointed debris, would likely cause a few serious injuries.
Shaking his head, he looked to the rest of the room. Though half of it was caved, there was still some furniture intact. A dresser along the right wall before a boarded up window, and a bed along the edge. A large pile of old blankets was stacked up in the corner half-hazardly before the hanging closet doors.
Stepping over the weakened floorboards, Dean reached the bed, his hand running along the sheets as he sighed. There were no signs of life, no signs that anyone had even been there. And seeing as neither Michael nor Sam had shouted for him, they too had failed to find anything.
He'd been so certain that Cas would be there.
Probably acting more foolishly than he should have, he sat down on the edge of the bed, his gaze falling to the closet on the other side. It was empty, the corners dark as he shined his flashlight in. Had he not made the flippant effort to look however, he would have missed the odd way a side of the blanket pile had crumpled, shoved up against the wall. Like there was something under it, holding it a few inches off the ground.
Eyebrows furrowing, Dean pushed himself off the bed before crouching beside the blankets. Reaching down with little trepidation, his pushed the blankets aside to reveal what was underneath.
What he found nearly made his blood run cold.
A hand.
Pale and cold, it was palm-up, the fingers unmoving as the rest of the arm disappeared beneath the blankets. But Dean knew. He'd know that hand anywhere. The artistic curves and fine shape. Even pale and lifeless, he knew that hand.
Fingers gripping at the blanket where he still held it, he felt fear drop coldly down upon him in that moment. Because he knew he had to pull away the rest of the blankets, but he dreaded what he'd find. His whole chest stilled, his heart slowing as his stomach twisted into knots. His legs felt numb, his brain seeming to inflate in his skull.
But he had to do it. He had to pull those coverings away.
Teeth gritted, it seemed to take all his strength to lift the blankets away fully. And as he did, his whole body became heavy, as if it could drop through the floor.
As if he'd never get up again.
"C-Cas," he choked out, falling to his knees and reaching out to the still, bloodied body. Hands shaking, he set them down on that ripped and red-stained sweater, his eyes taking in the damage his brain was attempting to comprehend.
Bruises and cuts all over him, his face beaten and bleeding. His lips, the ones Dean had had on his own only that very morning, were parted and pale. Cold. Freezing. Blood trickled from his nose, from cuts masked by his mop of black hair. And those eyes, those eyes were closed.
Dean couldn't see him breathing.
"Cas…" he whispered again, his brain finally beginning to put the pieces together. "Oh god Cas, no." His voice broke, his body scooting closer as he wrapped his arms around that damaged, limp body, pulling him closer. He could feel his panic rising, his body becoming jumpy and plagued by nerves. Wanting some kind of verification, anything, he leaned his cheek down over those lips, but… but he felt nothing.
No breath.
"No, no Cas," he shook his head, tears coming faster to his eyes than, were he in a more fit state, he might have expected. As it was, however, he didn't care. Didn't even notice. "Don't be dead Cas, c'mon." Lowering his ear to that bloodied chest, he closed his eyes and he listened. He listened for anything.
Even the faintest sign.
"C'mon Cas," he whispered, his face contorting in grief and pain. "C'mon…"
The silence seemed like it would reign forever, but out of the folds of that sweater, he thought he heard it. A faint, barely there beat.
A heartbeat.
"Oh my god," he leaned back up, his shaking hand reaching out to grip at the ripped sweater as his other went under and pulled Cas's limp form up into his lap. Looking around, his panic finally began to settle in fully, his voice coming out of his throat in a desperate, pleading scream.
"Sam!" his deep call echoed disjointedly around the old house. "Michael!" He didn't care who came, just so long as someone did. "Somebody!" He could hear their feet sprinting swiftly toward him, but it wasn't fast enough. "Sam!"
His brother's tall silhouette was in the doorway, Dean's hand reaching up to sift through Cas's hair as his eyes flicked between that bloodied face and his brother's shocked one.
"Call an ambulance Sam!" He commanded through the tears that still rolled steadily down his cheeks. "Call an ambulance!"
oOo
He didn't know how long he'd been sitting out in that unfeeling, blank, whitewashed room. It could have been hours or only mere minutes. The chairs were uncomfortable, plastic, and every once in a while he got up and paced up and down the hall, merging into the scrubs and jackets whisking to and fro. The florescent lights above seemed glaring, too bright, and did little to set him at ease.
His stomach had yet to untwist itself.
He wasn't alone however, no matter how he felt otherwise. Sam and, now, Ruby sat watching him, his own little personal support group that he refused comfort from. They watched him pace, they watched him sit, and sometimes they offered him coffee, which he always declined.
Down from them, set up in a row, was Chuck, Samandriel, then Balthazar. They sat the whole time, talking occasionally, then sometimes pulling out their phones if only to waste the time away. Chuck tapped his foot occasionally, and Balthazar sometimes leaned his head back, as if trying to sleep and ultimately failing.
Across from them, beside Anna, was Naomi. Initially she's come in panicked, the last to hear about what had happened and the last to arrive. She'd been upset, crying, and Anna had taken it upon herself to hold the poor mother. She'd since pulled herself together, as women such a Naomi were prone to doing, and sat with her purse in her lap, one hand clasped in Anna's. She stared blankly ahead, or down, and rarely said a word. Anna remained her hovering support, ready to piece her back together should her resolve falter.
One seat over from Anna was Michael, his finger pulling at his lip as he stared blankly ahead. He hadn't moved since they'd arrived. Rather, he was like some immobile Grecian statue, expressionless and unreadable.
Dean was pacing again.
"How long has it been?" Ruby was whispering to Sam, concern in her voice despite how little she knew Cas. But she knew Dean, and could see how upset he was.
"Uh… three hours?" Sam offered uncertainly. "They said they'd send someone out to speak with us as soon as they knew something." A fact Ruby already knew perfectly well, but hearing the words was somehow comforting to them all. As if it validated the fact of it.
Dean, sitting down again, huffed and leaned back in his chair.
Occasionally, because misery was entertainment, those who passed him by stared, as if taken aback by the blood on his shirt and stained against his arm – where he hadn't washed yet. He always gave them a glare, not wanting to remember how he'd found Cas lying there, cold and lifeless with only a faint beat in his chest. How – because he'd been afraid the paramedics would refuse to come up the stairs – he'd carried that body down the steps and out into the main room, holding it aloft as the ambulance came swinging near the drive, he couldn't recall. The paramedics had unloaded their gurney and come rushing down the drive to the house, Dean coming out onto the porch to deliver the limp form.
They'd taken Cas, strapped him in and hooked all kinds of tubes to his body that Dean hadn't understood. They'd talked about how serious it was, that it might be too late, and that they had to get him back to the hospital. They'd run off, pushing that fully loaded gurney into the back of the ambulance, one of the paramedics wiping freshly fallen snow off the unmoving chest as they'd closed the doors and driven off.
Sam had pushed Dean into the passenger side of the car, Balthazar jumping once more into the back from which he must have left. The Impala followed the ambulance, Dean not in control as Sam guided it swiftly through the snow and darkness – following those flashing lights through the haze.
Upon reaching the hospital however, they'd been escorted to the waiting room. To the worst possible place they could be put. A doctor had come out shortly after, explaining that "he was in a delicate state and that they were doing all they could to bring him back." As if he'd actually been somewhere from which they'd had to retrieve him. Once they managed to stabilize him, they'd let it be known. But until then, family and friends had to remain outside and wait.
Wait.
Fidgeting in his seat, Dean tried not to get too impatient. He knew it took time, bringing someone back when they'd supposedly left. But it was torturous, sitting there with nothing to do and no idea what they were waiting for. How did it take so long? What were they doing?
Was he going to make it or not?
"It'll be alright Dean," Sam murmured next to him, as if he'd seen the questions flitting across his brother's face. "If no one's come out to tell us anything, then it means he's still… alive. If something had happened, we'd know by now." Not the most comforting of realities, but it wasn't the worst, so Dean supposed he'd have to accept it. Or maybe he simply had no choice.
No matter the ideology, whenever those double doors leading into the ICU opened and closed, and a doctor or nurse came out, he was put on edge. Yet time and again they walked by, intent on other subjects.
Until, finally, they weren't.
Still wearing her gloves and cap, a doctor in worn green scrubs came through, her eyes going to them immediately. As if a wave of silent words had left her, they all stood, Naomi rushing forward first and then being the person the doctor gave the most attention. To the avid mother's direct right stood Dean, anxious and impatient as the doctor took a deep, collective breath.
"We've managed to stabilize his condition," she said quietly, her mask pulled down around her neck. "However, he's not completely out of the dark yet. His body has been through a lot of trauma. Between the physical battery," Dean pursed his lips, "and the hypothermia, he's just… barley hanging on." She sighed. "He's also suffered a considerable amount of trauma to the head." Naomi's hand went to her mouth as she listened. "The brain is extremely swollen and we're keeping him induced in a coma for now. To give it time to rest, and heal. So he's not awake and won't be for a few days. If… if he wakes up at all."
"Can… can I see him?" Naomi asked, her voice choked.
"Yes," the doctor nodded. "But I warn you, he's not… He's very injured."
Naomi didn't care however; she just wanted to see her son. Because of his condition however, and as he was in the ICU, only two people were permitted back to see him at a time. So Anna went with Naomi first, Dean sentenced back to his chair to wait in torment.
It seemed an eternity until Naomi and Anna finally came back, though it was only, maybe, thirty minutes. They were both tear-streaked when they left, met in the waiting area by the rest of Cas's Chicago natives. Dean considered, only for a second, that perhaps it was appropriate that someone else go see him next, someone that had known him longer, but quickly dashed the thought. He didn't care anymore and, rising to his feet, was headed into the ICU before the door had even closed behind Naomi and Anna. Sam, standing abruptly in surprise, followed him, the two stealing the second position as Dean pressed his way through the hall.
He didn't know exactly where Cas was, but searched every curtained room he passed until he spotted the familiar tuft of black hair. Skidding to a halt, he turned into the room, hardly aware of Sam coming in behind him.
There were machines beeping, the bed suspended some so Cas's head was at a slight angle. His arms were strapped with needles and tape, his ripped clothing replaced with a fresh gown. The blood had been washed from his skin, but he was still bruised and pale. There was a mask over his face, helping him breathe, and his body was wrapped tightly in heated blankets.
His chest, to Dean – who'd seen the heaviness that it could move at times – seemed hardly capable of going up and down.
He looked so small there, tied up with those tubes and covered in marred skin.
So vulnerable.
"Cas…" Dean's voiced murmured softly as he approached the bed. Sitting down on the edge, he hesitated for only a moment before reaching up and allowing his hand to find what little bit of flesh was exposed on the side of his face. His fingers touched his temple, then back to his hair. The caresses garnered no response however, the steady beating of the machines the only proof he was alive at all.
"Oh Cas…" Dean shook his head, his expression contorting in pain as he closed his eyes. "I'm so sorry…" He didn't know exactly what he was apologizing for, but he couldn't help feeling somewhat responsible for whatever it was that had happened to him. If he'd been there, if he hadn't kicked him out of his apartment, then when Jim had confronted him, he wouldn't have been alone. Dean would have been there, would have kept him out of harm's way. But, instead…
"I'll find them Cas," Dean muttered seriously, his jaw tense. "I'll find who did this to you and I'll kill them." He took a shaky breath, Sam pursing his lips as he listened from the door. "I swear to God Cas, I'll rip their lungs out. They won't get away with this."
In that moment, looking at that broken, beaten body before him, he felt he meant it. That he meant every word.