Chapter 29: Radio Static

There was a shock of silence in the house after Dean had sprinted off, the door slamming and threatening to bounce off of it's hinges.

"With how many times that doors been slammed lately we won't have a door anymore," John muttered, unable to gather the mass of emotions he'd had earlier. The double ditch out the door had taken the wind out of his sails. He'd still have to talk to Dean when he had the chance but it didn't seem quite as important.

"Should we-?" Sam asked inching towards the door himself, not wanting to leave either of them to fend the weather themselves.

Mary chewed her lip, "We could take the car... but someone has to stay home for when they come back. I'm sure..." she turned to smile at her youngest son, "I'm sure Dean will find him."

"Might as well take the truck out," John sighed, resigned. He grabbed his keys off of the hook and toed on his boots. "You and Mary stay here, I'll try and find the boys. Re-heat some food if you can. Soup. They'll be drenched to the bone."

Sam almost argued, wanting to go on the search party with his father but his mother's gentle hand on his shoulder stopped him. "Want to help me make some soup?" she asked as she steered him towards the kitchen, giving John a stern look before she turned. Just because she was letting him run off on his own didn't mean that he had free reign on his temper when he did find the boys.

John ducked his head further into his jacket, pulling up the lapels. He squinted a little in the rain and hurried into his truck, shaking off some of the raindrops in his hair. The roads were going to be hell. Two days of rain and with no sign of letting up. He'd have to be careful, and not just because he had no idea where the hell along the roads they would be sprinting. He sent a small, dubious prayer up that they didn't get hit by a car, or worse, his own car.

Mary listened to the rumble of the truck as it pulled out of the driveway, tires squeaking in the rain. She sighed and rubbed a tired hand over her face, pinching the skin between her eyes. She watched as Sam moved slowly around in the kitchen, staring blankly at the pantry with a pout on his face. Not that she'd ever had illusions that life in general was easy, she did way too much work around the world to think otherwise. Life was tough all around. Sometimes tougher than others. She'd hoped to spare her children some of the suffering she'd seen by moving to the neighborhood, by finding a good school in a safe environment, with high ratings for the entire suburb area. But there were some things a mother just couldn't protect her children from and there were some things that just lurked in the shadows no matter where you were from. "They'll be all right," Mary said, reaching over Sam, which she wouldn't be able to do if he kept growing at the rate he was, and grabbing a can of chicken noodle soup to start her base with. They'd add to it as they went along.

"Yeah, but. I don't..." Sam's shoulders sagged under an invisible weight. "I don't know what to do. Everything was... kind of okay last night. Cas was. I just. I just don't know."

"It's okay not to know," she said as she pulled out a pot. "It's okay not to have a game plan and not know where you're going. Or how things are going to end up."

"I feel useless."

"It's okay to feel useless too. There's something pretty awesome I've learned," she said nudging her son playfully with her elbow. "Every little bit counts. You can't fix the world. You can't fix Castiel. You can't fix your brother and whatever those two have going on. But what you can do, is you can make them a nice warm soup to eat when they get back. Find some nice warm towels so they can dry off. And trust me sweetie, that's just good enough."

Sam smiled shakily up at his mother and shook out his shoulders. It wasn't the appropriate time for moping around. Hadn't he told himself he was going to do his best? That he wasn't going to let himself be put in a corner by anything anymore? He didn't have any illusions that things were going to be easy but that didn't mean he had to abandon the drive he'd always had. For the thousands time he thanked whoever might've been listening that his mother was there.

"What do I do next?"

The soup was threatening to start cooling when Dean and Cas made it home. The door creaked open and slightly tapped the wall as Dean kneed it open. Mary and Sam jumped up from the kitchen table, each with a towel in hand. Cas was draped across Dean's back, hands firmly around his neck and legs tightly squeezed around his waist. It had gotten a little heavy to carry Cas 'princess style' as he'd originally tried. There was a huge puddle starting to gather underneath them and every time Dean moved water sloshed out of his shoe and onto the floor.

"He needs his feet looked at," Dean mumbled as he nudged Cas with his shoulder, testing to see if the boy was awake. He'd passed out somewhere along the walk back.

"I'll call your father," Mary said as she handed Sam the other towel, returning to the kitchen.

"Are you- is he.. okay?" Sam asked as Dean moved further into the house, a puddle trail behind him.

"I don't know," Dean replied, starting to climb the stairs, Sam following, anxious. "Where's dad?"

"He went out to find you."

"Oh, well-"

"Did it stop raining?" a hoarse voice mumbled.

Dean froze at the door to the upstairs bathroom. Sam smiled and moved so that he could look Cas in the eye. "No, you're home," Sam said holding one of the towels out to him.

"Oh," Cas said, eyes blinking slowly as his brain caught up with him. He reached out to grab the towel and nudged Dean a little so that he could slide down. He wobbled a little bit before getting his bearings. He focused on Sam not being able to look at Dean, which worked just fine for the older boy too. Now that the adrenaline had faded an awkward aura had enveloped them.

"I'll go shower downstairs," Dean said, eyes bouncing along the hallway. He glanced briefly at Cas, gave a shaky smile and ran his hand gently across his shoulder as he passed, snagging the other towel from his brother.

Cas' cheeks turned pink and he buried his head in the towel, letting Sam direct him into the bathroom. They stood quietly for a moment before Cas pulled the towel away. "I'm sorry."

"What for?" Sam asked, brows furrowed, "if anything I should be apologizing for my idiot brother."

"He's not that bad," Cas responded, the edges of his lips twitching.

Sam stared at his best friend for a little while, confused at how soft his expression was. He wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth tho', and sure as hell wasn't going to pry until Cas was ready to talk about it. Apparently a little melodrama was good for you. "I'll grab you some clothes, and Dean said your feet?"

Cas looked down and shook his head, "Just a small cut. Running bare foot through the woods hasn't been my wisest choice lately."

Sam squirmed a little, wondering if it was something he could pry on. "Why did you?" he asked, concerned curiosity taking over. He hadn't spent a little over an hour in the kitchen wringing his hands for nothing. More than that it had come completely out of left field.

"I panicked," Cas muttered, looking ashamed. "All I could... it doesn't … even make sense to me. I just. I never ran, ya know? And Dean, he scared me. I didn't want to. I know he would never, well I think he would never hit me. I just-"

"Triggered?" Sam ventured out.

Not just for Cas but for himself, he'd looked through the information the therapist social worker lady that had visited gave him. He'd been told to expect not to be okay. That there would be inconsequential things or random situations that would trigger the memory. That he might freeze up, panic, and react on base emotion. He should've guessed that it had to be worse for Cas, especially with his brother. Hell they'd talked about if before the nights fiasco.

"Yeah," Cas admitted, continuing to look ashamed. "Triggered. And it's not like- I swear I don't think Dean's anything like-"

Sam strode forward, hands outstretched so as not to surprise him, and pulled Cas into a tight hug. "Cas, you don't ever have to justify that to me, or anyone for that matter. You got scared. Flight or fight response right? It's okay." He tightened his hold on Cas. "It's gonna be okay," he repeated. Though whether he said it for his own sake or Cas' he didn't know.

Reluctantly Cas relaxed and let his head drop. A soft 'okay' blew past his lips with an exhale. "You're getting wet," Cas commented, pulling back.

"I've got an entire wardrobe," Sam said smiling and pulling back. He coughed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'll go get you some warm clothes."

Cas waited until Sam peeked his head back in with pajamas before stepping into the hot spray. He let himself zone out, sighing as he felt the warmth seep underneath his skin and into the bones. As he warmed up he considered briefly just sitting down in the bathtub and letting the water rush over him. A part of him didn't want to leave the shower. Not that he could argue that this was the most peaceful he'd felt in years. He was out, his brother and his relationship was building, a new family member had flown down to see him, the Winchesters invited him back to their home, Sam didn't hate him, and Dean...

Dean was exactly the person in question that he didn't want to leave the shower for. Leaving the shower meant dealing with why he'd bolted. It meant dealing with the fact that Dean had run after him. It meant dealing with what had happened in the woods. Cas groaned into the wall, touching his forehead gently to the tile.

"I'm an idiot," he mumbled to himself, bringing his hands up to tug at his hair.

Embarrassment wrapped him up as he let his head gently slam into the wall again. Of course he couldn't have handled it like a normal person. And he'd have to face Mary... and John and oh god he really did just take off running? He looked down at his feet and groaned again. He didn't even put shoes on. Though as he stood in the shower longer he was glad he hadn't. It would've been even weirder if in his panic he'd stopped to put his sneakers on andthenbolted out in the storm he knew was out there. He was never leaving the shower and had fully intended on it until a knock at the door pulled him out of his wallowing.

"There's soup- whenever you're ready, no rush."

"Thank you, Sam," he called back over the spray.

Cas sighed and grabbed the shampoo off of the edge of the bathtub. His stomach lurched a little as he popped it open. It was Dean's. He let himself have a small sniff of it before applying it generously to his hand and scrubbing it through his hair. His hands froze in his hair as he inhaled.

Dean had kissed him.

Dean. Had kissed him.

His heart hammered in his chest and his arms began to tremble. The small peace he'd felt moments before flickered and started to pull itself apart into different directions. He swallowed thickly. His body felt prickly as he thought back to how good it had felt to be wrapped up in Dean, nuzzled underneath him. His lips hadn't been as warm as they had been last time, but they had still been soft. The kiss hadn't lasted any longer than the one he'd planted on Dean what seemed like a lifetime ago. Cas let soap run down his body as he dropped his hands. What if Dean regretted it? Didn't he regret the first one? Sam had said that Dean had never had an issue with it, but how did his father find out? That's why he'd been... It's why he couldn't go home with them. It's why he had to abandon comfortable months in the Impala for the cold passenger seat of his father's car in the evening.

Cas highly doubted that if Dean was all right with it he would've talked to his father about it.

Had John seen?

Panic swelled in his chest at the prospect of seeing John Winchester downstairs. Soap dripped into his eye and he blinked and rubbed at it angrily. If John had called his father, then, he had a problem with it? Would he have a problem with him and Dean? Cas mentally slapped himself, there was no him and Dean. There was a desperate peck in the rain and half a year of radio silence and an angry conversation. He desperately wanted to believe Sam. That Dean had always just been confused by it. There was a murky thought that spread from the back of his mind. What if he'd done it just to get him to calm down? What if he was playing a game? What if-

"Stop it Castiel," he told himself out loud. "You are going to finish washing. You are going to towel off. You are going to put some warm clothes on and then go downstairs and eat soup. You are going to stop thinking and making up speculations."

He took in a deep breath and finished washing off, determined not to pay any special attention to what belonged to who in the bathroom and focusing on it with single minded vigor. Now wasn't the time to spiral into himself. There was time for that and it was when he was lying in his bed, by himself. Not when he was in someone elses shower running the water with explanations to face and food waiting for him. Just because he was nervous and scared didn't mean that he could hide away in the shower forever. The events and rapid change still felt like mist hovering barely outside of his skin, not real yet even though he knew it was there. It wasn't a truth he could grasp but he could tackle that later. Cas stepped out of the shower, toweled off and slipped into the clothes Sam had left him. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, wiping some of the steam from it to see himself better, and tried to give himself a pep talk. If he could face down his father, if he could stand up for Sam, if he could live through what he'd experienced at his father's hands, he could go downstairs and talk to Dean, Sam, Mary, and John like a normal human being. He would apologize and be kind, he would eat and look Dean in the eye.

Cas' smile was shaky as he walked out of the bathroom, leaving the door open to let some of the steam drift out. He heard muffled conversation downstairs and gripped the railing tightly as he descended the stairs. His stomach started braiding itself into a series of knots as Dean's voice rose slightly above the others. Cas' knees felt weak as he made himself walk forward. The voices stopped as he stepped into the kitchen where a place had already been set for him. He looked up at Mary's warm smile as she got up to fill his bowl, asking him how the shower was and if he needed the first aid kit. Cas shook his head no. He looked at Sam trying his best to grin lightheartedly, teasing his brother about how he'd looked like a drowned rat when he came in the door. Trying to make sure the atmosphere wasn't awkward. If he'd had any energy left he might've given Sam a laugh so that he knew it was working and he appreciated it. And then he looked at Dean, his eyes reminding him of his own in the mirror upstairs, terrified and a little nervous. He watched as Dean's hand curled around his bowl tightly, trying to ground him in the same way that Cas had clutched at his hair in the shower. The sharp rise and then freeze of Dean's chest as he waited for Cas to make the next move, to decide were this was going. He could only imagine he looked just the same. Two stalled cars at a stop sign, each desperately signaling the other to go ahead first.

"Hello, Dean," Cas whispered, taking the plunge and feeling incredibly awkward. Hello? Why in the world would he say hello? Admitted they hadn't really talked. He'd seen him and bolted and cried and then gone unconscious. So technically it could've been appropriate to say 'hello', but they'd just seen each other and Dean had touched his shoulder and they'd shared eye contact and they'd come back to the Winchester's home together and now he was just making it worse and Dean would look at him weird and take everything back and there went his good feeling-

"Hey Cas," Dean replied, his shoulders dropping down, eyes lighting up a little as Cas' heart clenched and he took shaky steps towards the table, feeling his hands start to tremble as he slid into his seat among the family.

Love was so much harder to face than pain, he thought as he stared at Dean across the table. He nearly excused himself to go back upstairs, that he wasn't hungry when John entered. Cas held his breath as he moved to make himself a bowl and sat down on a chair next to him. "A little dramatic, don't you think? Next time grab an umbrella" he joked, placing a warm hand on Cas' shoulder before asking Sam to pass him the salt.

A lump formed in Cas' throat and he felt his eyes sting.

Love was definitely harder to face than pain.