a/n: hi everyone! I'm so so so sorry that this took so long. I was super busy and barely had any time to write, but I made this chapter extra long to make up for that. (I was actually going to make it even longer than it is now, but I decided that it would just be too much.) Thank you to those who read and review, I love y'all more than I can say 3. So sorry again for the long wait. Enjoy :D
Cas's dreams were plagued by his argument with Dean. By the moment his record hit the ground and broke into pieces. By the name 'Mary Winchester' and the file. By the words that were written on the pieces of paper that all pointed at Claire Novak as the only culprit that could have committed the crime.
The crime being the death of Dean's mother, as well as the destruction of a happy childhood for Sam and Dean.
At first Cas hadn't believed it. Not even a bit. But by the tenth or eleventh time he had called his mother and received no answer, by the twentieth or thirtieth time he had read the file, he had become less and less willing to believe that it had all been a mistake.
The file said it all. How Claire had mixed up the meds. How Claire had gotten fired. How Claire had killed Mary.
And so the night before Christmas, Cas went to sleep without any hope left for himself that everything would be alright.
The morning didn't help.
Not that Cas woke up in the morning. No, he slept through the early hours of the day, only opening his eyes somewhere around 12:30. Even then, he stayed in bed and stared at anywhere that wouldn't remind him of Dean. But that was easier said than done.
The walls that were covered in pictures of Cas and his family in various different countries had been joined with ones of him and Dean. Ice skating. Making snowmen. Cuddling on the couch. Cas tried not to let his gaze be drawn to those.
Cas's dresser also offered unwanted memories. More specifically, the Lord of the Rings LEGO sets on it. Unbidden, Cas remembered the sparkle in Dean's eyes as he had looked at the sets. He remembered their conversation in the car, where Dean had sadly admitted to Cas that he had never had his own LEGO set, but how he'd always wanted one that was big and expensive and intricate. Cas remembered the feeling of wanting to do anything and everything in the world to help Dean.
Cas remembered too much. The laughter, the smiles, the conversations. Everywhere he looked, there they were. Painful and sharp and Cas wanted them to stop.
He closed his eyes.
Sleep didn't come, but Cas didn't want to get out of bed. He didn't want to start his day, or walk through the silent house, or spend the day trying to pretend that everything was alright. Which it wasn't. Not at all.
But soon the hunger in Cas's stomach drove him out. He had tried to keep it down, but the pains were too much for him. Cas didn't bother changing or looking in the mirror. He already knew that he'd have red rimmed eyes and that bags would have formed under them. He didn't need a mirror to tell him that.
Stumbling downstairs and into the kitchen, Cas put two pieces of bread into the toaster and drew out a jar of peanut butter and one of jelly from the fridge. He sat down at the empty table and waited. The wall against the memories Cas was building in his mind went crashing down as he stared at the table. At the spot that Dean usually sat. Could it have been that a mere day ago, he and Dean had shared dinner here, laughing and joking around? And had Cas only imagined that Dean had woken up early in the morning to make Cas breakfast, and had burned the blueberry muffins so bad that it took them hours to clear out the burnt smell and clean the kitchen from the multiple layers of flour that had coated it?
The toast jumped out of the toaster, jerking Cas out of his thoughts. Heaving himself out of his chair, Cas strode over and took the pieces of bread out, all the while shoving the memories back down and starting to work on that wall again. This time he wouldn't let it break.
Cas finished breakfast in record time. This time, there was nobody to chat with. To joke with. To laugh with. He was alone.
He did the dishes alone, too. No music this time. Music was only for when he had someone to dance with. To sway and bump his hips with. Someone like De-
No.
Cas made sure the wall in his head grew stronger.
He stood in the empty kitchen for a moment. The memories were pushing against him but he held fast. Cas needed a distraction.
Striding into the living room, Cas dropped onto the couch and firmly decided that he would watch a movie. He didn't let his mind wander to a time where Dean had sat on this very spot and critiqued Cas as the freshman had hung ornaments on the tree. He didn't think about how then they had switched spots and Cas had fallen asleep watching Dean's lulling movements. And Cas definitely didn't let himself think about how afterwards, they had napped on the couch together, wrapped in each other's arms.
No.
Definitely not.
The wall stayed firmly in place and Cas added reinforcements to it. He couldn't let it break.
Hands shaking, Cas gripped the remote and turned on Netflix. He needed a movie. Any movie, really.
But today was just not Cas's day. The first movie on his List was The Mask of Zorro. The one after that was the Princess Bride. Cas felt the wall in his head cracking and he quickly shut off the tv. He didn't need those memories. Memories of him and Dean snuggled in blankets in Cas's dorm. Memories of them falling asleep together afterwards. And especially not the memory of the first time Cas had thought to himself that he wanted to be with Dean for the rest of his life.
Cas rose from the couch and almost sprinted out of the room. The ornaments on the tree were smiling at him with their bright light but Cas felt no urge to smile back.
It was then that he passed the door to the basement, which was still open. Cas realized that the files had to be cleaned up by the time his mother got home the next day. The day after Christmas.
What a lousy Christmas Cas was having.
He steeled himself and trudged down the stairs, wincing at the creaking noises. They split the silence in the air like knives. Not unlike the way the record sounded as it-
No.
The wall grew higher in his mind.
Cas reached the bottom of the stairs and groaned inwardly at the sight of the countless files strewn all over the floor. This would certainly take up most of his day. In fact, he hoped it would take up most of his day. It would give Cas a chance to avoid the thoughts howling and screaming at him.
Sinking to his knees, Cas started with the grueling work. Picking up a file, checking the name, and putting it into its corresponding location. Picking up a file, checking the name, putting it into its place. Pick up, check, put away. Pick, check, put. Over and over and over.
It really, really wasn't Cas's day. No surprise there. Because Cas was finished within the hour.
He contemplated sitting on the beat up couch against the wall but immediately discarded the idea at the sight of the photo albums still lying open on it.
Sighing, Cas decided that he'd go back to bed. There was no use doing anything else.
He started up the stairs when something caught his eye. Something red and bright that was covered for the most part in boxes shoved under the stairs. Cas's heart twisted as he turned around and crept over to it, moving the boxes aside. Staring back at him were the presents he had bought and wrapped for Dean. The ones he spent hours picking out so that Dean could have the perfect Christmas.
Only that Christmas was now ruined.
The sad twinge in Cas's gut turned to anger. This was Dean's fault. If he hadn't knocked over the files, none of this would have happened. If he had just waited until Claire got home and explained that it had been a mistake, everything would have been fine. A voice whispered to Cas from the darkest parts of his mind that there hadn't been a mistake. That Claire had killed Mary. And then Cas's anger turned on his mother. Why hadn't she said anything about this before? She had known Dean's last name. Hell, she had lived with a son who had it printed on his wrist. And yet she had said nothing.
Cas should throw them away. The presents. It's not as if Dean was coming back. And it's not as if he dared keep them for himself. They would only widen the cracks in his wall further.
That was the last thing Cas needed.
Letting out a soft noise that was almost like a growl, Cas reached for the wrapped packages, ready to rip them apart and get them as far away from him as possible. But then he froze.
He was hearing things. He had to be. But he could have sworn he heard-
There it was again.
Knocking.
But who-
Cas hastily turned away from the boxes and flew up the stairs. His heart was singing Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean, but the rest of him was snarling the name. How dare he come back? After everything that he had said to Cas? After everything he had done to him? Cas couldn't forgive that.
He wrenched the front door open just as the meticulously built and enforced wall in his head started to crumble.
All of the thoughts that were circling above Cas like vultures promptly vanished, leaving him staring dumbly at the person standing in front of him.
Dean looked more nervous than Cas had ever seen. More nervous than the day that it was Claire opening the door to him instead of Cas. More nervous than the first time Dean and Cas had met. More nervous than when Dean made his first steps on the ice rink.
Cas took in Dean's appearance, from the unkempt hair, to the slightly red rimmed eyes, to the bit lip, to the sweater that Claire had knit for him, to the bags at Dean's sides. Cas's tongue was caught in his mouth and he stood there, frozen.
"Hey."
Cas barely heard Dean, but it was enough to shake him out of his trance. "What are you doing here?" Cas's voice was harsher than he had meant it to be and he saw Dean flinch at the words that flew out of his mouth. Thoughts of an apology swirled around in Cas's head, but he resisted their pull. He was not apologizing to Dean. Not after what Dean did.
He saw Dean shift from one foot to the other and the fingers tightened around the straps of the bags. Dean cleared his throat. "I wanted to talk. To you. If that's ok?"
"No. It's not ok. You can leave now," Cas hissed and stepped back, closing the door in Dean's face.
Before it could slam shut, though, he felt Dean's hand pushing against it as Dean tried to keep it open. Dean's voice turned desperate. "Cas, wait! Please! This is important! It's about your m-"
Cas ripped the door open, making Dean stumble a bit, and cut him off. "You wanted to talk about my mom? Didn't we already do that yesterday? Oh, wait, it wasn't really talking. More like screaming while you accused her of murder," Cas growled out. He saw Dean shrink in on himself. "And I'm so sorry if I don't want to repeat that again."
He moved to try to close the door again but was stopped by Dean for a second time. The look in Dean's eyes broke Cas's heart. "Please, Cas. If you don't like what I have to say you can kick me out. I'll leave right away. I promise. Just please, please let me talk to you."
They stared at each other, the silence stretching between them like infinity. Finally, Cas huffed a breath and turned on his heel, marching away from the door (away from Dean) and towards the kitchen, leaving Dean to enter and close the door behind him. Dean came into the room without the bags, which he must have left in the hallway. That was just as well; Cas didn't want to know what was in them. He didn't care. Or so he tried to convince himself.
"Sit."
Dean hesitated for a moment before dropping down into his usual seat at the table. Cas noticed that Dean was fiddling with the sleeves of his sweater. Cas tried to refrain from doing the same.
"Well?" Cas spoke after a while of tense silence. "You wanted to talk. So talk."
Dean took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair. Hair that wasn't quite blonde, but not brown. Cas had always thought that it looked like a mixture of honey and almonds. And when the sun hit it, the colors turned to-
No.
Cas stopped himself. He wasn't here to admire Dean's hair. He was here to listen to what Dean had to say and then kick him out. Simple as that.
"I drove to my dad's yesterday," Dean started. Cas felt his eyes widen. Dean's father lived hours away. He must have gotten there at around one in the morning. But why would Dean go there? He and his father barely ever spoke, and from what Cas had learned about John Winchester in the past months, it was that family reunions were never his thing. "I don't honestly know why I went. I only realized I was headed there when I was nearing his place."
Oh.
"I asked him if he knew Claire," Cas sucked in a sharp breath but Dean continued. "And if she was connected to my mom's death. He said yes. To both questions."
Cas's heart sank lower and lower under he felt it shatter into pieces. So it was true. His mother had killed Mary. He had the evidence. The files. And now the confirmation from Dean's father. Everything Dean had said had been true. Claire was a murderer.
Dean must have seen the relinquished look on Cas's face because he quickly reached across the table and grabbed Cas's hand to reassure him, but Cas pulled his hand out of Dean's grip. A brief look of hurt crossed Dean's face before he withdrew his hand and started fiddling with his sleeve once more.
"Is that it?" Cas growled. "You wanted to come here to tell me that you were right? To gloat?"
Dean's eyes went wide. "No! No, that's not it. That's not even close to-"
"Because if that's what this is about, then you can leave right now."
"I'm not done, Cas, I promise. Just hear me out, okay?"
Cas hesitated but nodded tersely.
"My dad told me that my mom never got better after the fire. She only got worse."
What?
"It came to the point that she was only being kept alive by machines. She couldn't go anywhere, do anything. She was stuck in the hospital. And so were we," Dean lowered his eyes. "She kept telling my dad that we should leave. Leave her in the hospital and go live our lives. She said that she was holding us back. But my dad wouldn't listen," Dean's voice hitched and the next words came out in a whisper. "So she asked him to kill her."
Cas's breath caught in his throat. No. No, this didn't make any sense. Why would Mary have wanted to die?
"My dad said no at first. But then she became more persistent. She kept asking and asking and asking. She was tired of seeing the same white walls and eating the same food. She thought she was being a burden on us. She said that what she was living wasn't a life at all. So my dad agreed. Only, he couldn't get her the drugs. But they knew someone who could."
Cas's world was collapsing and all he could do was sit grounded in his chair and listen to the words spilling out of Dean's mouth.
"Our moms were close. Really close. My dad said that they were more like sisters than friends. So they asked your mom for the drugs. She had refused at first. Obviously. I mean," Dean's eyes rose to meet Cas's. "Who could live with themselves after they had hurt someone they loved."
The words echoed inside Cas's head.
"After a while, though, your mom agreed. And so she snuck my dad in one night and they said their goodbyes and gave my mom the drug. Claire took all the blame and was fired because of it. My dad never told us the whole truth because he thought that we were too young to understand why they killed Mom. But I guess the cat's out of the bag now, right?" Dean smiled, but it looked more like a grimace. He lowered his voice. "Just don't tell Sammy."
Dean had obviously expected Cas to nod at that and tell him that no, he wouldn't tell Sam, but all he got was a blank look. Cas was still processing the information. It was too much. Mary had wanted to die? But was Claire still justified in killing her? Had it been the right thing to do? Why didn't Claire tell Cas? He was old enough to understand. Had she been planning on keeping it a secret forever?
"Cas?" Dean's voice brought Cas back to reality. "You doing alright?"
Cas snapped. "NO, Dean, I am most certainly NOT doing alright! I've just learned that my mother KILLED SOMEONE, and not just any someone, but the mother of the person that I love more than anyone else, and now I have to live with this information inside my head for the rest of my life and I don't even know what I'm going to tell my mom about it, or even IF I'm going to tell my mom that I know. I mean picture me, the day after Christmas, telling my mom that I know that she killed your mom. How will she react? And Gabe! Oh Jesus Christ, what am I going to tell him? Will I tell him? He deserves to know, right? But what if it ruins him and Sam?" Cas couldn't help but add, "What if it ruins them like it ruined us?"
"You think it ruined us?" Dean's voice asked from beside him quietly, and Cas jumped as he realized that during his outburst, Dean had moved around the table and was not mere feet away from Cas, unsure on what to do to comfort him.
"I mean, you hate me," Cas whispered. "My mom killed yours. You can barely look at me. And after what I said, I don't know how you can even stand to be in the same room as me."
Dean looked a little taken aback at that. As if he hadn't been expecting it. As if that's not what he thought at all. But Cas knew better. Or did he?
"I don't hate you."
Cas froze.
"I could never hate you," Dean was shaking his head. "I said all those horrible things to you yesterday, but I didn't mean them. I didn't mean a single thing. You're probably the best thing that has ever happened to me, Cas. You're funny, and kind, and amazing, and your hair is so soft, and your smile makes me happy, and when you laugh you scrunch up your nose and you just look so, so cute and I could never, ever hate you." Dean paused to take a breath. "I love you, angel."
Cas stared at him, not daring to move a muscle. Not daring to believe.
Dean took the silence as rejection and his face fell as he stepped backwards. Away from the table. Away from Cas.
"I should go," he whispered.
And then Cas was launching himself out of his chair and at Dean, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. His soulmate. The love of his life. Cas gripped him tight and didn't let go.
Dean let out a small noise of surprise at the sudden contact but didn't hesitate before bringing his arms around Cas and burying his head in Cas's shoulder. One of his hands went around Cas's waist and the other to the back of Cas's head as Dean dug his hands into the silky strands of Cas's hair. Any other time Cas would have complained that Dean was pulling too hard on his hair, but he couldn't have cared less at the moment. What mattered was that Dean was here and he forgave him and he loved him. Just like Cas loved Dean.
"I'm sorry, Cas. I'm so sorry."
Dean was mumbling apologies into Cas's shoulder but Cas shushed him and tightened his arms around him. Dean didn't stop, though, and kept up the mantra of "I'm sorry"s muffled by the long sleeved shirt Cas had on.
Pulling back, Cas cupped Dean's face in his hands. "I love you too, you idiot. Now shut up." And with that, Cas crushed their mouths together.
You might have thought that they had gone years without seeing each other instead of hours. They kissed as if their lives depended on it, as if the world was ending and they had mere seconds to live. They kissed like they were drowning men, clawing for life.
When they finally pulled apart, both were panting. Dean's face was split into a smile so wide Cas thought his face would crack in two. And if that smile was a feeling, then it was filling Cas up from his head to his toes.
Dean opened his mouth again, no doubt to make another apology, but Cas cut him off before he could say anything.
"Don't you dare say that you're sorry again. I forgive you, Dean."
And Cas was surprised to say that he was telling the truth. Yes, Dean had said some horrible things the previous night, and yes he had broken Cas's signed vinyl record. But Cas had said some horrible things, too. And, after all, the record was an object, and although it wouldn't be easy, it still could be replaced. Dean, on the other hand, was a living, breathing person that could never, ever be replaced. Not for Cas.
His thoughts were interrupted when his stomach growled, and Cas realized that he hadn't eaten anything since the peanut butter and jelly sandwich he'd had hours ago. He was actually famished.
"Sounds like somebody is hungry," Dean said softly and brushed past Cas and into the hallway, where he came back from seconds later with the bags he was holding earlier. Cas craned his neck and made out the logo of one of their favorite burger places.
Plopping the bags down on the kitchen table, Dean started rifling through them. He took out two wrapped packages, placing one in front of his seat at the table and the other in front of Cas. He then reached in and brought out a box of fries, and then two iced teas. Smiling, Dean then dropped into his own chair and started unwrapping his burger. Cas did the same.
"Oh, Dean…"
Dean had remembered. Even after their fight and after they hadn't had burgers in weeks, Dean had still remembered. He'd remembered the incredibly specific way that Cas liked his burgers; double bacon with cheese and no pickles.
"What?" Cas looked up to see that Dean had already taken a larger-than-was-probably-healthy bite of his hamburger and had just tried to talk through it. The light from the window was hitting his hair and Cas couldn't help but think that Dean had never looked better.
He shook his head softly. "Nothing." Taking the burger in his hands and biting into it, Cas savored the flavors that exploded in his mouth. This Christmas dinner was better than he would have hoped for, even if he did only have breakfast hours ago. Or would that have already been lunch since he had eaten so late? Whatever. It didn't matter to Cas. Because Dean was here, with him, and Cas couldn't have been happier.
Both boys jumped when the muffled sounds of one of Bruno Mars's songs split the air, and Cas immediately recognized it as his ringtone. Wiping his hands on a napkin, he made a quick apologetic glance at Dean before sprinting up the stairs to his room. Turning his phone over, Cas's breath caught in his throat at the sight of the caller.
It was Claire.
Hitting the accept button, Cas brought the phone to his ear, stomach in knots.
"Hey, Cas! I saw all those missed calls that you made. I'm so sorry that I couldn't talk before, but I'm also really busy now. Is everything ok? If it's really important I can make time."
His mother's voice brought a wave of memories crashing down onto Cas, but he held them back while his mind raced. What should he say? Should he confront her about what she did now, or would it be better to do that in person? But if not that, then what excuse could he make up?
"Hi, mom! Umm, yeah, I did call you a lot but it's okay that you didn't pick up. I can ask you about it when you get home tomorrow."
"Great! I hope you boys are doing fine back there without me."
Cas resisted the urge to snort. Yeah, they were doing absolutely fine. "Don't worry about us, mom. We got into a… small fight… but we're ok now."
"Aww, I'm sorry to hear that, sweetie." It sounded as if she was about to say something else, but then Cas heard a muffled noise on the other end of the line and Claire quickly apologized, saying that she had to go.
"It's ok mom. See you tomorrow. Love you."
"I love you, too. Bye."
Cas hung up and dropped the phone back onto his bed, running a hand through his hair. He let out a breath and made his way downstairs. Dean was still sitting at the table, already done with his hamburger and he had now moved onto the fries. He looked up as Cas approached and sat down.
"Who was it?" Dean asked, dipping a fry into ketchup before making a show of putting in his mouth and chewing.
Cas couldn't help but smile at the display. "My mom."
Dean stopped chewing and his eyes grew serious. "Did you-"
"I didn't tell her anything. I'd rather do that in person."
Dean nodded and continued chewing, this time with less vigor. Cas picked up his burger once more, and this time he managed to finish it without any interruptions.
When they were finally done with the food, both boys did the dishes, and Cas couldn't have been happier when he turned on the music and they stood side by side, swaying and bumping their hips by the sink.
The opening notes of Bruno Mars's Just the Way You Are started playing when Dean suddenly jumped and his eyes went wide. Cas didn't even have time to ask him what was wrong before Dean dried his hands on a towel and sped out of the kitchen, calling a quick, "I'll be right back! Finish up!" to Cas.
Extremely confused, Cas hurried up with the dishes (thankfully there were only a few more), and was drying his own hands when Dean came rushing back into the house. In one hand he held a wrapped box, and in the other, his guitar. Baby 2.0.
Smiling, Dean held out the wrapped box to Cas. "I almost forgot this."
Cas was about to take it when he remembered his own presents. Now it was his turn to dash out of the room. He raced down the stairs and into the basement. The boxes surrounding the presents were already out of the way, and Cas recalled with a twinge of regret how he had been about to throw them out before Dean came. And thank god that Dean had come.
Grabbing the two wrapped boxes, Cas sprinted back upstairs. On his way to the kitchen, he passed the living room, where he saw Dean sitting on the couch in front of the Christmas tree. Backtracking, Cas slipped onto the couch alongside Dean and grinned at him, holding out his presents. "And I almost forgot these."
They exchanged gifts. Cas held his present in his hands. It was nicely covered with wrapping paper that was adorned with flying angels. Oh, Dean. Cas quickly glanced at Dean out of the corner of his eye. Dean, who was ripping the first box apart with a childish smile on his face and eyes that twinkled from the light reflecting off the ornaments.
Cas turned back to his own present and slowly tore apart the paper.
He only saw the corner of something black when he was engulfed in a hug from the side. Almost dropping his gift, Cas carefully put it on the coffee table in front of him and returned Dean's hug, burying his face in Dean's hair.
"Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you!" Dean sang.
Cas smiled. So Dean liked his presents.
Dean pulled back and grinned at Cas like a madman. In one hand he held the fuzzy socks that Cas had gotten him. They were incredibly soft and comfortable (Cas knew from experience), and Dean had always complained that his feet were cold. The socks had Chevy Impalas on them, something that Cas knew Dean would love. And on Dean's lap, almost too big to fit there, was a LEGO set. But not just any LEGO set. A Star Wars Death Star set. A twenty-one pound, 4,016 piece, $500 LEGO Death Star.
Dean's grin made the sun look like it wasn't shining. He leaned forward and gave Cas a kiss, mumbling a few more "Thank you"s before and after.
"Can we build it together?" Dean asked, not even waiting for an answer before tearing the box open and starting to spill the contents out onto the couch.
Cas rolled his eyes. Of course they would. But first, he had to find out what his own present was.
He picked the wrapped box back up and hooked his fingers under the paper, pulling it back inch by inch. He almost stopped breathing.
There, in a glass case, was a new vinyl record. A new, shining, Bruno Mars vinyl record. And that wasn't all. Inside the case, lying on top of the record, were two pieces of paper. Or, more specifically, two front row concert tickets to one of his concerts.
Cas looked up and met Dean's eyes. They stared at each other for a moment, both beyond glad that they had the other, before Cas leapt forward and their lips collided in a kiss that was so unlike the others. This was one that spoke of forgiveness and love and or never letting go. This one was passionate and harsh and exactly what Cas needed.
Dean was exactly what Cas needed.
And Cas was never, ever going to let him go again.
another a/n: A few things in this fic were factually incorrect. Firstly, the Princess Bride is not on Netflix. But for the purposes of this fic it was. Secondly, a lego death star is not that cheap. In reality, it's more like $800. So don't go on Amazon thinking you can buy one for the price I put here. You can't. Sorry.