For a full minute they merely stared at each other because after their last conversation, Sam had declared his distaste in his best friend concealing the truth. Now though, after they reached into their hearts and tapped into that comforting bond between them, Cas' stare softened and then Sam sighed.
"Where is Dean?" the angel asked in a hoarser voice than normal. "Is he sleeping?"
"Dude," Sam jerked his chin at the empty whisky bottle a few feet away on the table, "and welcome back, by the way. You took your precious time coming back this time."
Cas frowned deeply. "I've only been gone a few hours, Sam."
"A few hours?" the younger Winchester stared incredulously at the other man. At first, he couldn't formulate an ideal reply.
"What's wrong?" Cas pressed on, worry seeping into his tone now. By then, he was slowly beginning to fall into a sickening pool of worry about Dean. And with every passing second, Cas found that he couldn't take full breaths.
Sam shook his head. "Buddy, you've been gone for three weeks tops. Where the hell were you?"
Cas suddenly felt as if he was standing in a bitter winter storm. "Three weeks?" his stunned expression was convincing enough to the other man. "Sam, I left the bunker hours ago. Then I met Chuck and we –"
"Wait," the younger Winchester sat up straighter and he stared back in disbelief. "You met Chuck? Cas, what the hell did he say?"
"He basically told me that my relationship with Dean is unacceptable and I have two choices. I can either remain as an angel, or I have to fall. Where is Dean, Sam?"
Sam however, was stunned beyond a doubt. "Fall as in lose your wings and become fully human? Isn't that painful for an angel? Wouldn't it mean that instead of gradually losing your grace, your wings will be ripped away from you? Dude, that's…" when Cas grimaced, Sam shuddered. "Nah, man. No way in hell you're going to go through so much pain. I'm sure that Dean would never ever allow you to make that choice."
"Where is Dean?" Cas tried again, and this time in such a pained voice, Sam's heart melted. "I need to know where he is. Is he here? In the bunker? I don't feel his energy but then maybe he's weak. Sam."
"He was here, drowning in alcohol. Only thing he's been doing since you left because like he said, when you walked out and never came back, he took it to mean that you called quits on him –"
"I didn't call…quits on us, Sam," Cas blinked through tears. "There are only a few things that could possibly make me walk away from Dean and I don't ever believe that he would commit those things. So I can't quit that easily."
"I know you didn't, bro," Sam offered a sympathetic look. "Judging from what I'm seeing on your face right now, I know you never walked out permanently and I don't know what the hell happened to you but Dean, well, he's trying to look like he's got his shit together. But he isn't doing so well again. Most days since you left, he's been going out for long drives and coming back home in the afternoon without saying anything to me. What happened, Cas? You claim that you only left hours ago so how could time fly by so fast?"
"I'm assuming Chuck contributed to this," Cas sank into a chair and buried his face inside his hands. He felt somewhat terrified of what had been happening to Dean. "He sped up time. He can do that. I should have known that he would do something like this. How could I be so stupid? One moment he dragged me to Scotland and then in the next, I was swept into Heaven to face an almost demolished sight."
"You mean the place is collapsing?" Sam blinked in disbelief.
"Frankly, at this point, I don't care about anything else but Dean. Where do you think he is at this time of the night?"
"Best bet? Somewhere parked staring at nothing in particular and dreaming of you. I'd say give him about three hours to come back. And don't worry, man," Sam noted the worry in those blue eyes and sighed. "If he doesn't come back by 4am, we're going to find him. In the meantime, tell me about what happened in Heaven because I could use a break from reading up on aliens."
"UFOS?" Cas tried to swallow the fear on Dean's whereabouts, tried to distract himself, but he feared the worst.
Whilst Sam closed the book titled 'Aliens and Assumptions', somewhere a few miles away inside a quaint drinking hole, a bartender with a pot belly was slowly wiping away the grime from the prior night's ramblings. He scowled at the amount of liquor discarded on the floorboards, hated the wasteful food left on tables and realized that one of his pool sticks was missing. And after he swore loudly, directly upstairs as the clock crept to 3am, Dean's eyes suddenly snapped open.
At first, he was entirely confused because he felt very cold, like every inch of his body and the blanket; a rose red; was lightly strewn over him in a fashion that suggested only one thing.
When a warm body stirred beside him and a soft leg brushed his thigh, Dean practically leapt out of the bed and completely lost his mind. Within one full minute, he grabbed at his clothes blindly, feeling so cold inside, almost as if he was a dead man walking.
What the hell? Dammit, his boxers, his jeans were turned on the wrong side so he fought with that for a while. Then whilst he was reaching for his shirt and trying to button himself up as a migraine pounded his head, the figure on the bed groaned.
A well-manicured hand stretched above a tousled head of red hair and then a narrow face peeked out from the depths of the rose red sheet.
For a long time. Dean stared into the bluest shade of eyes and could literally feel his heart slowly becoming poisoned. How could he have been so stupid? How much alcohol had he consumed to actually chase after a skirt when for three damn weeks, he had chased after nothing else but the booze? Night after night, Dean had turned down women. Why? Because he simply could not even look at anyone else and find them as deserving of his attention like the way Cas deserved his…
Blindly Dean fought through the tears as he slipped into his jeans.
"Honey," the woman quickly sat up on the bed and stared, "don't cry. Wait, listen."
"No," Dean shook his head vigorously and started to head towards the door, "I really can't…"
"If you're thinking that we slept together, then we didn't!" she said quickly, springing off the bed and leaping towards the door to press it close. The two of them stared at each other. "Listen, okay?" she tried to gather his hand into hers but Dean pulled away as if he had been burnt. "My name's Amanda," she said holding her hands up defensively. "Shit, I don't expect you to remember what happened last night because you were wasted but before you head out thinking you did the worst thing ever, I just want you to know that we didn't have sex."
Dean took in a shaky breath, and he couldn't even look into the distinct shade of blue eyes that laced his blood with poison. That was slowly killing him from guilt that he felt weak and terrified and lost.
So, they weren't intimate with each other. For a moment, he thought that it was relief washing over him, only to discover that he had stepped under the A.C unit. Then was when Dean felt his heart literally being clenched inside a fist of fear. Of knowing that somewhere along the line, he had fucked up. And now, he was standing in a woman's bedroom, hair wild and nothing but her word to go on that they didn't have sex.
"You were a mess last night," Amanda continued in a soft voice as she created distance between them. "Truth is, after you tried to beat every damn asshole at pools, I tried to seduce you. Brought you upstairs here thinking I'd get a piece of you but…" she sighed, collected a bottle of water from her vanity and handed it over to Dean. He took it hesitantly, eyes still lowered.
"You couldn't even get it up firstly," she leaned against the wall facing him. "Then you started crying. At first, I thought that you were shit. I mean, the men we get around here aren't that hard to sleep with but you." Amanda seemed impressed. "You wowed me. Especially when you started talking about the love of your life…what's her name again?" she tapped her chin and tried to remember. "Oh right, Cas! So jealous of that bitch."
Dean immediately tried to bite his smile. But then, deep down inside, the tsunami of pain from the mention of that particular name seemed to slowly kill him. He couldn't even breathe properly.
"I mean, you kept going on and on about how you miss Cas and you want Cas to come back. And you can't sleep with me because you're only in love with Cas. Let me ask you this though since you are sober now," she pointed as if scolding him,
"Where the fuck is this bitch in the first place, huh? Why did she leave you? If she's so damn perfect, then why are you killing yourself with booze whilst she is off somewhere frisking about, huh?" Amanda planted a hand on her hips, red hair tumbling onto her shoulders.
She had delicate features, defined cheekbones and a prominent forehead. She was beautiful. That much Dean could ascertain in all honesty. But he couldn't see past the injustice of seeking out someone who owned the exact shade of eyes that belonged to the man who owned his heart.
"Don't answer," she shook her head and sighed. "Way to make a girl feel like even after caring for you, and your feelings enough to have you sleep in her bed to wear off the booze, you still can't talk to me."
Trying to gather his composure, Dean decided that he should be grateful for at least the small favor of her accommodating him. "Thank you," he said stiffly and cleared his throat. "For not taking advantage of me."
"Don't be smart," she scowled.
"Dammit, I wish I could be chatty but I am at a loss for words."
"Then at least tell me about her," Amanda said softly, deciding to perch herself on the bed about two feet away from Dean. "Talk to me because you seem like a really good guy. You're dedicated to this person and that's something that I admire because most guys who pass through here, even the married ones, they don't give a shit about commitment. They just give it all up; the ring, the vows everything."
"But you, the way you talked about her, she must be the most precious thing ever. I'm thinking one of those fully educated gals who was lucky enough to tie down a good looker like you. And man is she lucky. You're fucking gifted in all areas and I mean…" her blue eyes lowered between Dean's legs, "all areas."
He had to laugh. Shaking his head, Dean could truly feel that the woman sitting next to him was indeed a warm-hearted person who honestly cared.
"First of all," he said batting away her compliments, "it's not what you think."
"Huh?"
"There is no girl," Dean painfully admitted, allowing their eyes to meet as he offered up a soft look.
For a long time, Amanda merely tried to search green eyes and eventually, she stared back in disbelief. "Fucking hell. She's married, isn't she?"
"Not a she," Dean gave up, realizing that he couldn't care less about anyone's judgments at that point. "He…" and his voice cracked, "is not married. But he walked out on me because I couldn't…" Dean suddenly shook his head as his eyes squeezed shut. He tried to breathe. "He couldn't stay because I'm not that good of a guy."
"Oh, honey," Amanda clicked her tongue and offered a look of disbelief, "you're the Mister Right that every girl and gay guy should run after. Fuck, straight men probably want to screw you too because of your looks and charm. I don't get a bad guy vibe from you at all except that you're pretty tough and got a lot of shadows behind your peepers. But man, if he left, like really lost his shit and walked out, then he ain't deserve your love."
Sighing, Dean fixed the collar of his shirt and slipped his feet into his boots. Maybe she couldn't quite understand the entirety of the situation because of her lack of information. But he had his moments, he really did. He could pile everything up inside of his chest, passing the time with fake smiles, believing that he was doing pretty okay and then boom. All the negatives came tumbling out like what had occurred between him and Cas. All the drama… and the aftermath now was simply painful and regretful.
"You going to find him?" Amanda kept scrutinizing his face as if waiting on his reply. "Is he like…good looking?" suddenly she was smiling mischievously. "Imagining you screwing a guy is so hot. I guess it's why men like the idea of women screwing each other. Oh!" she squealed and clapped her hands in glee. "You've got to tell me more about him. Is he shorter than you?"
Dean shook his head and smiled in awe over her intrigue. "Yeah. About two inches."
"Aww!" Amanda hugged herself. "So he stands on his tippy toes to kiss you. The two of you slept together?"
"You going to wrap this up soon?" he offered her a lopsided smile. "I've got to head home before my brother throws a fit."
"He has a brother," Amanda swooned, shooting heart eyes at the ceiling. "Please tell me he's straight, single and hot."
"Oh he's all of the above," Dean got up and patted her on the shoulder. "Thanks for lending an ear. But I really got to go."
"Let me walk you out," she grabbed a denim jacket, and in the shortest black pants ever created by the fashion industry, Amanda yanked open the door and led the way.
Dean, had he not been smitten over Cas, would have eyed the red head's rear all the way out the door. But instead, he shyly avoided the invitation and fell into step beside her as she hooked their hands together like they were the best of friends.
"Man, I got to tell ya, I've always wanted a gay friend."
"Not gay," he said smiling as they descended the stairs, "not straight either."
"Whatever, once you cross the line, you ain't going back. I slept with a girl once," she confessed with a shrug. "Didn't really like it but once you got a good cock in your mouth, you can't forget the feel. You get me?"
"Come on!" he sent her a look of utter disbelief even though his neck was dusted red.
"What?" she poked his arm and giggled. Hopping down the steps, Amanda stuck out her tongue. "You were right when you told me you're a bad boy, Dean. You just love this guy so much."
"I really do," Dean admitted in the softest tone. "You can't begin to imagine."
Amanda sighed. "Listen, I know we hardly know each other but in a short piece of time, we've talked about a lot. So I just want you to know that I wish you the best. I want you to find him and I hope he takes you back, okay?"
"Son of a bitch," Dean scowled. "You're making me mushy. This isn't a chick flick moment."
"Come on, give me a kiss before you leave. We part as pals. And you can come by any time you need to have a chit chat, okay?"
Without a warning, Amanda tugged Dean's lips onto hers and initiated a reassuring kiss as if sealing a promise. And truthfully, he felt nothing but sincerity in knowing that he had somehow gained a friend in the most unusual way and…
"Dean."
From the moment he heard his name, every single sign of humor slipped off of Dean's face.
Colder. That's how he remembered feeling. Colder and yet…deep down inside there was a raging fire burning that was threatening to kill him. Because his brother wasn't alone. Sam came running up to him and stopped about four feet away but in tow was no other than the last person on earth Dean wanted to witness him in the arms of another woman.
Cas' face was reminiscent of someone who had just been on the receiving end of the most terrible news ever; a death of a loved one. And maybe what Dean witnessed in that moment was Cas literally killing every single memory. Every single part of his heart that loved Dean. Loved. That was what those vacant blue eyes that swam in tears reflected. A message that was loud and clear and obviously so traumatic, Cas' lips parted and he stared painfully at Dean.
"Dude," Sam wiped his face and cast an angry look at his brother, then he threw a long glance at his best friend by his side.
"Cas," Dean's voice was unsteady.
"Is this him?" Amanda gasped. "Oh my god! He is gorgeous! Hi," she rushed towards Cas and slowly, he backed away as if her presence alone was like facing death.
"It's not what you think," Dean tried again, swallowing hard when those blue eyes that he loved more than anything in the world offered him nothing but the most disappointed look he had ever witnessed. "Cas, I—"
"How could you, Dean?"
He didn't even realize his brother had spoken until a few hours later. Then though, when he watched Cas retreat from his presence, Dean felt the purest form of heartbreak for the first time. The magnitude of it was so terrible, he didn't stop breathing. He couldn't breathe at all. He couldn't speak. Words ran away from him and his soul felt like it was on fire. Like his entire world was falling apart and there was nothing he could do about it when Cas disappeared after the sound of his wings fluttering.
For a long time, even though Amanda tried to pull him into reality, Dean suffered in his own silence. He became mute to the world and hated that with every beat of his heart, there was pain. So much pain.
He remembered Sam yelling at him inside the car but the words were muffled. The wind continuously slapped his face though. Cold, icy wind. Everything around him didn't make sense anymore. The way the road winded ahead, he couldn't recall where they were headed or why. All he could drown in was Cas. Leaving him. Cas' broken look. All the cracks in Cas' eyes that leaked tears and then, he was gone.
And now, two weeks later, Dean sits at the map table downing a cup of coffee with nothing but silence around him until Sam wanders into the War Room. Casting a pitiful look at his brother, he settles into a chair and opens his laptop. Then, there's the sound of keys tapping and every now and again, Sam glances at his brother and manages to capture a lost look. It's the kind of look that isn't quite pensive but hurtful. But not hurtful in a way that suggests the opening up of a wound. But the gnawing of guilt and a sense of fear.
"Drink up," Sam urged. "Your coffee's getting cold."
Dean, after startling a little, settled into taking a slow sip. "You got another case?"
"Dude, it's been a day since the last one. We've done three in two weeks tops. I think we need to slow down."
"Nonsense!" Dean clapped the table, suddenly appearing spritely and he rose up with a spring in his step. "I'm game for another hunt, man. Keeps me going. I love the adrenaline rush."
"Only way to distract you from the pain," Sam muttered.
"What?" Dean poked his head out of the kitchen.
"Nothing," the younger Winchester sighed, avoiding eye contact. "Was only wondering if you got a chance to grab some supplies this morning."
"I um…" Dean was trying so hard to keep his voice steady after his gaze fell onto Cas' teddy bear mug resting near the sink, "I was kind of caught up in something else."
"You were gone for two hours!" came Sam's voice from the war room.
The way Cas used to hug his cup in between those soft hands. Hands that used to love caressing Dean's face. Fingers that used to entwine with his easily and when they mixed their teas most mornings, Dean remembered how Cas used to remind him of the fluffy khaki colored teddy bear on the mug. That's the reason why he had gifted him with the mug. It was because of the one time he had called Cas 'huggy bear' and why? Because he gave the best, warm, squishy hugs. He was so damn soft, and so lovable.
Now…
Dean bent over the sink, felt his chest cracking and the tears just flowed. Most of them didn't even trail pathways down his cheeks. Instead, his eyes leaked into the sink and mixed with the soapy water. And after five damn weeks without Cas, Dean just sank onto the floor in a heap.
His chest shook from sobs because he missed those hugs. He missed the way Cas smelled like honey and ginger and cinnamon. The soft feel of his lips. How he tasted like peanut butter and peppermint toothpaste. His warm breath…Dean still felt Cas' lips on his neck. And because he remembered those intimate moments, he cried because he remembered the times they made love. Over and over again. Holding onto each other as if they didn't want to ever let go. Falling, unbecoming and exposing every single emotion during those intimate moments.
Dean missed Cas so much, he cried into his knees and didn't even recognize the absent sound of the running tap when his brother turned it off.
Cas always made him feel like home. So without him around, Dean hated the bunker. He hated how his bed felt colder. How his sheets lacked the smell of someone else. Someone that he could love forever and more without ever giving up. He missed how the smell of coffee greeted him in the morning and he would wake up to the lip of the cup brushing the tip of his nose. Dean missed the forehead kisses that lingered for a few seconds and then the familiar 'my love, did you sleep well?'
Now, he had fucked it up completely.
And Cas…
White walls. A bed. A chair…wooden. A table. Wooden also with a cleared surface. The absence of windows and the abundance of memories.
He was slowly dying. At least that's what it felt like whenever Cas tried to breathe; the slow, painful process of trying to count his heartbeats and realizing that every single time he did, he kept remembering how much he loved Dean. How much he had given up to love a flawed man only to have his worst fear come to life. To lose Dean in the arms of a woman who could ease him into a normal life with an ideal home. She could bear his children…something he couldn't ever do. And the more Cas thought about how he could never fulfill those needs that Dean longed for deep down inside, Cas cried.
For the first time in eternity, he lay motionless on a white bed with cold sheets and Cas sobbed until there were no more tears. Until he simply stared at the ceiling and considered the room in Heaven's midst as a tomb. Because he was better off dead, wasn't he? After witnessing the man he loved more than anything else on earth lock lips with someone else, the feeling of having his heart ripped out of his chest and torn into shreds was too much trauma. And still Cas hung on to the incredible love he had for Dean.
He couldn't stop loving him. Not now. Not ever because loving Dean was the only thing in the universe that was sensible. Loving Dean barely kept him alive in his tomb of pain that was thick and sickly and suffocating.
Emerald eyes that reminded him of the lush green grass by Loch Laggan. Or the sweet and sour licorice stick that could be bought by a particular vender off the coast of Paris. The memory of a couple in love spreading a green blanket near a statue of Caesar in a garden within the Vatican City.
Dean's voice was so soothing. The way he laughed like a child. The way his fingers curled around his glass of whisky. His comforting touch. The way he would look into Cas' eyes as if he depended on Cas to save him when he fell down. When he couldn't believe in himself. He looked at Cas like a child trying to gain reassurance from his parent before jumping into a pool.
Now, most of what Cas felt was trauma.
He still couldn't understand why Dean had kissed someone else. Why he had felt the need to move on so fast. Why he had honestly wanted to give up on them. But then Cas remembered leaving him, walking out after promising to return and then Chuck brutally fast forwarding the time. Taking them three weeks ahead and shattering their hearts afterwards. And when Cas really thought about what those three weeks must have felt like to Dean, he couldn't hate him or judge him for running to someone else for comfort or reassurance.
Cas felt like everything was justified.
Like he deserved what had occurred. And over and over again, he kept reliving these small slices of pain and awakening to day after day of the same memories. The same space of time. Twenty-four hours of trying to bring to life Dean's face inside his mind. Of trying to hold onto his kisses that tasted like whisky and beer and chocolate or beef jerky most times. The way Dean would tilt his head and rub their noses together before kissing him. Biting his bottom lip and tugging playfully. Trying to ruffle Cas' hair all the time and annoying the hell out of the angel.
Sometimes, when they touched intimately in the dark, Cas remembered how Dean would become so frightened from doing the wrong things. From his fear of exploring too fast or too slow, Dean would start to tremble. His hands would shake and he would hyperventilate and then when Cas held the hunter's face between his hands and spoke to him softly, Dean would gain all the strength he needed to continue. He would entwine their fingers and hug Cas close to him throughout the night, never letting go. And now.
"Dean…" Cas' sob ripped through his chest and he tried to swallow down the pain but couldn't. "I still…love…" raking his fingers through his hair, he fought to breathe. "I love…him. I love him." His voice broke. Weakly, Cas tried to sit up and the room spun dangerously. "I love him," he kept saying, "I love…you. Dean Winchester. I love…you so much. I love you."
And when night fell down like a blanket upon the world, Dean stared up at the ceiling, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. And his body shook from dry sobs.
"I love you, Cas," he said hoarsely, his voice barely audible. "Please come back to me. Cas, I love you. I never stopped loving you. Dammit. Cas. I want you back. I want you to…" his lips quivered. "Darling, please," Dean pleaded in prayer. "I love you with every breath I take. Every second of every day, darling. Wherever you are. Just know that I'm never going to take you for granted anymore. I'm going to keep on loving you until I can't anymore. And when I can't love you anymore. Cas…"