Chapter Two
Enter Sandman
Sam wandered into the bunker kitchen fresh from his post-run shower, his lengthy hair pushed back to keep it away from his face while it dried. The coffee maker he had started before he left for his jog had finished, leaving the room heavy in the morning beverage aroma. He had made a full pot in case Dean would be up, knowing it would most likely be his brother's first stop when he decided to grace them with his presence. But so far neither his brother nor Castiel had emerged from Dean's bedroom and the door had been closed when Sam had left and also when he passed after his shower.
He certainly wasn't going to knock and disturb them both. He could guess at what was going on behind that closed (and most probably locked) door, but under no circumstances did he want to have his suspicion confirmed.
Dean and Castiel. He smiled with a shake of his head in almost disbelief. He had seen there was something between the two of them for a long time, but never really expected anything to actually happen. Dean was too deep in his denial and Cas was just plain clueless.
Although Dean had never admitted it, Sam had known Dean was bisexual for years now, and suspected it for even longer. Dean had just tried too hard, put on too much of a macho front for it not to be over compensating for something. And even if all that brevardo hadn't given away his brother's secret, his siren becoming a man certainly had. There was no denying that Dean was into girls, but he definitely had part of himself locked and barricaded away in the proverbial closet, as far as Sam could see. So tightly locked away that Sam was sure that door would never be opened.
And then there was Castiel. Though there was no denying the Angel had a strong liking for Dean, love even, but it had never seemed romantic. In fact Cas just seemed completely indifferent when it came to anything sexual. Seeing any rare opportunity that came the Angel's way as more of a learning experience than anything more than that.
Still it was impossible to miss that there was something between the two of them. Something more than mere friends, or brotherhood. Sam had spent far too long feeling like a third wheel in their relationship for there not to be, he just never expected either of them to ever act on it.
He was just pouring his first mug of coffee when his older brother skidded into the room on bare feet, wearing only jeans and a startled 'deer caught in the headlights' look.
"Sammy!" He gasped out, "I need your help. I-I broke Cas."
Sam blinked at him, refusing to rise to the bait of what was obviously a prank. He slipped his drink, before shaking his head. "Yeah, ok. Let me guess, drilled him till his halo fell off. Ha ha Dean, very funny."
"Dude, I'm not joking!"
Sam side-eyed him with a weary look of annoyance, but the look he found when he did gave him cause to pause and reconsider. How long had it been since either of them had pulled a prank on the other? Okay it hadn't been that long, but this wasn't something Dean would be comfortable making jokes about. Sam's surprised he's even talked about it at all. Making jokes, didn't fit.
And he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his brother looking this worried. "You're serious?"
Dean's nod had a tremble. "He- He's like catatonic in there." Both Dean's hands were fisting his hair, like he was trying to rip it out by the root and Sam pretended not to notice the wetness collecting in his brothers eyes or the way he was biting at his lower lips to try hide the quiver.
"What happened?" Sam was already leading the way, back the direction the other had come from, towards Dean's room, as he asked, Dean following briskly behind him.
"I don't know. We just- I just woke up and he was... I couldn't wake him." He is still rambling when Sam gets to the door, left open in Dean's hurry to find help.
Dean stood back watching Sam with wrapped attention while he checked Cas' breathing and other vitals, glad that even in his panic, he had had the sense to rearrange the covers over the naked Angel before rushing off to find Sam. At least he could protect Cas' modesty even if he hadn't been able to protect Cas from whatever was affecting the Angel right now.
He gave a brief nod when Sam told him that Cas was breathing normally and had a strong steady pulse. He was already aware, he had checked before he left to find Sam. The Angel was fine physically, as far as his health signs were concerned, the problem was simple. Cas wouldn't wake up. And for someone who doesn't sleep, that couldn't be good, not good at all.
"Did anything out of the ordinary happen?" Sam asked.
Dean scoffed, "You mean besides all of it?"
"Yes, Dean," Sam dropped his shoulders in annoyance. "I mean specifically something that could have caused this!"
Dean shook his head. The whole evening had been 'out of the ordinary', with neither of them acting like they normally did towards each other. Yes, he had always had those thoughts and desires towards Cas, but it was not like him to act on them and it was definitely not like Cas either. But there was nothing specific that had happened. It had been an epically intense first night together, but that was it. There wasn't anything that stood out that could be the cause of Cas' current non-responsive state, not that he saw. It had to be a spell, witches most likely. They should search the room, or the whole bunker for hex bags.
Or could Heaven be responsible? He suddenly thought with dread hitting his stomach like a fist to the gut. Would they have done something to Cas for lowering himself to being with a worthless human? Would they think it blasphemous? Would they punish Cas for it, kill him? Is that what was happening right now? Was that only Cas' vessel laying in Dean's bed? Was the real Cas in Heaven getting punished...or reset? His throat seemed too small at the thought of it, chest too tight, the air too thin.
A spell or curse would be the better option of those two choices. As much as he hated seeing Cas like this, chances are if this was some kind of spell or hex it could be broken, but if Cas was 'reset'... Losing Cas that way, the Angel forgetting all that made him unique and special, that would be so much worse. So cruel for Dean to get what he needed most only to have it snatched away straight after...
Needed most - the words repeated around in Dean's head, triggering a recent memory.
'You've given me what I needed most. I want to do the same for you.' That was what Amara had said to him just before she had left with Chuck. At the time he hadn't given it much thought, but could she have meant Cas?
"Amara!" Dean all but shouted in realization, snapping Sam's attention back to his brother who had frozen just inside the doorway, as if afraid his closeness would hurt the Angel further.
Sam's eyebrows twitched in question, but he remained quiet waiting for Dean to explain.
The more Dean thought about it the more he was convinced he was right. The things he'd said, that he never would have said before, never would have allowed himself to say before, as much as he may have wanted it, still wanted it, but he would have never said it. He would have held that secret to death. Yet, the night before he couldn't hold it in. He knew he was poison, he knew he was cursed, he knew he'd lose everyone he dared to get close to, but at the time he had forgotten, he hadn't cared... and now Cas was going to pay the price for that mistake, because making Cas pay would hurt Dean more than paying it himself. It was all his fault.
"Dean?" Sam's loud interruption snapped him out of his turmoil and he realized he'd been quiet for a long while. "You think Amara had something to do with this?"
"Yeah, she urm... she said something to me and when I got back we were acting... differently, and ... It has to be a spell of something. Maybe Cas sensed it and tried to stop it or it affected him differently, or it's a side effect, I don't know, but it's the only thing that makes sense." His voice is thick with shame as he chokes out his stammered words.
Sam notices the vagueness in Dean's rambled explanation, but chooses not to comment on it. His brother is already struggling with this as it is, not that Sam had ever assumed Dean's coming out and admitting his feelings for the Angel would ever be easy on him, but this was a whole new level of bad. Instead he decides to focus on just the problem at hand. "We can check the lore, but if it is Amara causing this I don't think we're gonna find a spell strong enough. And even if we do, I doubt we'd be able to pull it off ourselves. We'd need a witch and I don't think Rowena is going to want to go against Amara again so soon."
"We have to do something, it's Cas!" The guilty look on Dean's face has morphed to one of desperation. There's too many problems and no solutions and there needs to be a solution. He will not let Cas pay for this. He won't!
Sam was nodding in thoughtful agreement. "What about African dream root?" he suggested moments later.
Dean paused, his frustration abating some, turning to his younger brother. "You mean that dream walking thing we did with Bobby and Charlie?"
"Yeah," Sam stated with a thoughtful nod, "Maybe we can break him out from the inside."
Dean glanced over at the motionless Angel and then back to the younger Winchester, with a slight glimmer of hope in his eyes. "Could that work?"
Sam pursed his lips with a skeptical shrug, "I have no idea, I don't even know if Angel's can dream, but it's all we got for now and we should have everything we need right here."
With a snappy nod, Dean dashed from the room. Sam heard his speedied footfall growing fainted as his brother made for the supply room and he went to follow after him, but with an afterthought, Sam paused at the door, only to quickly step back to pluck a couple of hairs from Castiel's head. They would need them later. Pocketing the strands, he left to catch up to Dean.
He found Dean already pulling open draws and rummaging through boxes in one of the storage rooms, in his search for the aforementioned root and the various herbs they would need for the dream walking tea. Silently, Sam joined the hunt. While they searched, Sam waited. Waited to see if Dean would bring up the subject. He doubted it, it was not Dean's way to voluntarily open up, he was more likely to bottle everything up and never let anyone see that side of himself, but he gave his brother the chance anyway... Until his patience ran out.
"So?" Sam tried to keep his tone completely casual, glancing briefly to his side trying to gage his brother's reaction. "You and Cas, huh?"
Dean gave his best reprimanding look, out of the corner of his eye, not pausing his rapid search, shoving unwanted items around in the box to get at what could be hiding in the bottom. "It's complicated,"
"Which would be fine if I asked for a facebook update," Sam continued "But I'm your brother, you don't have to hide things from me."
"Now's not the time, Sammy," he reprimanded, trying to shut down what he knew would turn into a line of questioning that he did not want to get into right now, if ever.
"I know, I know," Sam said, continuing anyway, either ignoring or disregarding Dean's obvious aversion to the subject. "But I just wanted to say that now it's out in the open, don't go going all 'Dean' about it"
Dean's busy search stopped and he turned to his brother with an annoyed questioning look upon his face. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that you always shut people out, just like you're doing right now." Dean rolled his eyes and started his search back up. "You don't have to deal with everything on your own. You can talk to me."
"There's nothing to talk about."
"Oh come on Dean," Sam gasped out exasperated, "don't treat me like I'm an idiot. I've known you guys are into each other for ages now."
"Look," Dean turned on his brother, jabbing his open palm towards him, "whatever you think you know about me and Cas you can just forget about it alright," he snapped hotly, glaring at his brother.
Sam's eyebrows drew together in confused shock."Why?" he said through his frown. It was obvious that whatever was happening to Cas was likely linked to the two of them getting together, but it was no reason for either of them to give up on the whole thing. There had to be more to it than Dean was letting on. "What happened?"
"Same thing that happens to anyone who gets close to us, they end up getting hurt ... or worse," Dean barked, hoping his little outburst would shut up his little brother's questions. He didn't want to get into this at all, but least of all now, when his Angel was in trouble. Right now he had more important things to consider than Sam's need for a chick flick moment. That could come after, if it had to, once Cas was alright. And not one moment before.
Sam paused, his mouth dropping open as he stared at Dean in disbelief, not quite comprehending what his brother was implying. "You can't seriously think that what's happening to Cas is your fault."
Dean didn't reply. Because, yes, that was precisely what he thought. But admitting that would open up the floor and put what had happened between him and Cas just hours before under the spotlight. He didn't have time for that, not now. So he ignored Sam's puppy dog eyes, instead turning his attention into doubling his efforts in the search, thankfully finding what they were looking for just seconds after.
"Got it," Dean snatched it up the elusive root and was already dashing from the storage room, before Sam could say anything more.
xXxXxXxXx
Tea in hand Dean shouldered open the door, kicking it closed behind him and made his way to the bedside trying not to look at the occupant of the bed. Not wanting to see what he's done to the Angel, wanting to live with just a toe on denial for just a little bit longer. But he just couldn't hold it off.
At some point Cas' eyes had dropped closed, or maybe Sam had closed them when he had checked him over. Dean didn't know which, either way he was grateful. There had been something very unnerving about the Angel's unblinking, unfocused stare. A deathly presence reminding Dean of just how deeply the poison in him corrupts and destroys. Cas had lived for countless millennia, seen creation, survived holy wars. His touch could heal or kill as he chose, yet the heavenly Angel broke after the touch of Dean Winchester, just as he knew everyone foolish enough to stay by his side would. He had been stupid to think his poison, his curse would let it possibly be anything different.
Now, with those long lashes resting peacefully against Cas' cheeks, Dean could imagine he was sleeping, dreaming of their one and only perfect night together. Dean knew that wasn't the case, but for a brief second he let himself believe it. Before he had to let go of what wasn't to be and set to face the truth, let go of his long coveted Angel to save him.
"I'm really sorry I got you involved in this Buddy," he whispered over Cas' sleeping form and in one last moment of weakness, before he put the idea to rest for good, Dean leaned over and pressed a long lingering soft kiss to the Angel defined cheek bone, saying goodbye to the idea of 'them'. He'd been foolish to think for even a second that what he and Cas shared could be anything more than a close friendship. The guy was a freaking Angel, he deserved so much better than the messed up, broken hunter, with so much blood on his hands, so many scars on his soul, that Dean was sure not even a crossroads demon would have wanted the tattered mess anymore. It wouldn't be worth a worn nickel, let alone the love of an Angel. Worthless. Hell, the demon would have probably charged him to take the soul.
With a deep sigh, he choked down the rising sadness, thumbed away an escaped tear and took up the cup, lifting it in toast to the slumbering, and too still Cas, laid out beside him. "Here's to all the times you've gone sneaking into my dreams."
Briefly, Dean wondered if Cas would see this as an invasion of his privacy, as Dean had somewhat done each time the Angel had wandered into the hunters dream like he owned them. Not that Dean had much of a choice. He had to do something. He has caused this, whatever it was. He's feelings that he hadn't hidden well enough had caused this. He had to do whatever he could to right this wrong, to get his friend back... He hoped he would get his friend back, Dean panicked. Because what if Cas couldn't forgive him, what if knowing what had happened made things too awkward between them to ever get over. "I'm sorry, Cas. I'm so sorry... I hope...I hope you can forgive me."
But he couldn't dwell on that right now. First he had to get Cas back, then he would deal with the consequences. Determined, he brought the cup to his mouth and took a deep chug, finishing the bitter brew quickly and settled down on his back next to Cas. Within moments and with a silent apology and plea for forgiveness, Dean eyes slipped closed, head lolling to the side.
He woke to find himself in a clinically clean and featureless corridor that seemed to go on forever, further than he could see, in either direction, countless doors lined each side. How was he ever meant to find Castiel in this lot?
Picking a direction at random, there was no difference between the two, he had a fifty-fifty chance, he hurried down the corridor calling for the Angel at the top of his lungs as he went. He hadn't ran long when something caught his eye and he came to a skidded hult. The door to his right was slightly different to the others. It was the same spotlessly clean white of all the others, identical really in every way, but it was just odd somehow, in a way he couldn't put his finger on. If he hadn't been in a state of hyper awareness, searching for any sign of movement, any sign of Cas, Dean probably wouldn't have even noticed. He couldn't even tell what it was that made it different, it just was.
Curiosity got the better of him and he reached for the handle.
The second he opened it, he knew he had made a mistake.
Cas' voice, heavily laced with fear, is the first thing he noticed. Cas, usually so skilled at hiding it, must be completely terrified for it to be so obvious. "Please, you don't have to do this."
In the centre of the overly lit, too clean clinical looking room that Dean found himself in, Cas was laid back, strapped down to a surgical type chair. His wrists held down, restrained tightly to the arms by solid looking metal cuffs.
"Cas!" Dean shouted, managing one staggered step into the room, closer to the Angel he was searching for.
But Castiel ignored him, or didn't hear him, Dean couldn't tell which.
Instead he continued to plead with the only other person in the room. Dean recognized the woman as she approached him, utterly unmoved by the Angel terror. Dean had met the sardonic bitch before.
Naomi.
"Yes, I do. You need this, Castiel," she stated matter-of-factly, as she leant over the bound man, raising the buzzing silver drill in her hand.
"Please. I don't want this," Cas was crying out, struggling against the binding that held him fast. "I want to remember!"
"Never have I known an Angel as willfully defiant as you," she told him coldly, the drill she held hovering dangerously close over his defenseless eye. "You're damaged,"
Cas struggled, pushing his head back into the padding of the head rest trying to get as much distance between himself and drill as possible, his pleas tumbling out of his lips in sheer panic.
"Keep still!" she snapped at him, emotionlessly. "I've done this so many times, it's like second nature to me, but one slip..."
"Please, don't," Cas begged through a wavering exhale, at the same time Dean screamed "NO!" and charged forwards, already knowing it was pointless, already knowing this isn't real, there was nothing he could do to change what he was seeing, but unable to stop himself.
Naomi leant closer over her subject, studying closely, eyes cold, like Cas no more than a lab rat to her.
As Dean reached them the drill was pressed in, Cas screamed out in pain, a blood curdling cry, legs flailing, knuckles whitening as he gripped the arms of the chair.
Blackness engulfed the whole room, leaving Dean swinging at nothing but empty air. He spun around on the spot searching for his Angel, or his torturer, or even the room that they had just been in, but it had all gone. He was staring into nothing but a void in all directions. Fearfully he rushed back to the open door, before that too could have a chance to disappear.
Slamming the door shut behind him heavily, Dean hunched over, holding his knees tightly, trying to drive the images from his own mind. He was sure that if he was actually here, actually in his body and not a mental projection, he would have thrown up.
"What sort of fucked up nightmare on Elm street reenactment is this?" He gasped out to no one, taking some deep breath to calm his racing heart. He knew Naomi had in the past given Cas the Heaven version of a factory reset, turning him into nothing more than a brainwashed mindless soldier, controlling his actions, until he had broken free of her hold on him just in time to prevent Dean from being his next victim. But Dean had assumed the method used had been a spell, or something similar. He pictured it much the same way he'd seen the Angel smite others, a hand to the head, maybe a few Enocian words would be chanted, but nothing like what he'd just witnessed! Certainly not drilling into Cas' brain, through the corner of his eye! It was too much, it was barbaric. Something he'd expect from a Demon, not an Angel. It belonged in the pit, with some monster on the rack, not in Heaven with his Angel, whose only crime was embracing free will and humanity.
Bobby and Charlie's dreams had been bizarre and pain filled, but this was a whole nother level. He glanced left and right, at the sheer amount of doors left yet unseen to him, dreading to think what lay behind each of them. If this is what his Angel dreamed about it was no wonder the guy didn't sleep.
The next door Dean tried was no better.
"Mercy, Brother please!" Even doused in pain, Dean recognized his Angel's voice instantly.
Cas' arms are raised high above his head, chained to the warehouse ceiling, leaving him defenseless. His trench, suit jacket and tie stripped off, leaving him in only his dress shirt which was sliced open in multiple slashes and bloody.
"Brother?" One of the other two in the room with him scoffed, Dean identifying them both as Angel's by Cas' wording as well as the blades they both held, blades coated in Cas' blood. "What are you?"
"Cas!" Dean charged forward, swinging for his Angel's captives. His fists passed harmlessly through them and he staggered forwards before regaining his balance. None of them reacted to Dean's attack or even his stumbling arrival in the room, not even Cas. And Dean reminded himself for the second time, that this wasn't a reality, just some fucked up dream world, inside Castiel's head. Cas couldn't actually get hurt here, but that didn't stop him from putting himself in front of the bound Angel, shielding him in his defenselessness.
Cas is stammering weakly as he speaks, "I'm an Angel of the lord." Dean thinks it's from the exhaustion, the pain, but as he stepped up close, he realized it was neither.
"That so? Cause near as I can tell when you have to choose between Heaven and the Winchesters-"
"-You choose them."
"Every time."
The angels overlap each other's words, but Dean has no time to pay attention to either of them. He's totally focused on Cas. Unable to believe that neither of the angels have noticed. Because there is no possible way the two torturing Cas couldn't have seen his cursed eyes, can't see the struggle he's putting upon himself having to keep the effects of the spell contained, the strain the Angel is under. It's so clear to Dean, so obvious, even blind he would see it. Cas' usually beautiful blues are glassy and yellowed and hooded as if keeping them open hurt too much, the whites barely visible behind the veined redness. They've been close enough to slice open Castiel's face. They had to have noticed. They simply don't care.
"What bit shall we cut off first?"
Dean jolts his head up. Still unable to believe the cruelty he's hearing and seeing from those that Cas calls his brothers. He watched as the sick twisted Angel eeny meenied between Cas' chained wrists, before bringing the bloodied blade right up to Cas' face, tapping him threateningly on the tip of his nose. "Miny." Cas' eyes widen slightly, a silent plea, but he doesn't beg, he doesn't speak at all. Whether it's his stubbornness or pride, or he's simply unable to speak anymore in his internal struggle to keep the curse at bay, Dean can't tell, knowing Cas it could be any, or all three.
"Mo." The blade is tapped to the chained, helpless Angel's groin.
Complete rage flashes through the hunter. The urge to smash the tormentor's face in, ram his teeth down his throat till his crapping cavities. Cas was clearly driven rabid with the curse, muted in struggle, taking away his last defense and instead of helping one of their own they threatened to cut his dick off. Fuck!
Bright light swarmed the room and blinded Dean staggered back, arm raised to defend his eyes. He finds himself back in the corridor. No clue which door he was just in, no way to tell either.
He pushed the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to remind himself once again that none of this was real. None of this was actually happening. This was just some fucked up nightmare that was drawing some aspects of Cas' life and twisting it into hellish versions. Just a nightmare that Cas was trapped in because of him. He had to find Cas, the real one. Neither of those he had seen had recognized him, or even looked his way. They hadn't heard him or responded to him. They weren't his Angel, his Cas. His Cas he was still lost somewhere, imprisoned in this infinite tunnel of mystery doors, still for him to find.
He wouldn't leave Cas trapped in this endless nightmare. He could never. He had gotten Cas into this mess, and sure as hell he was gonna get him out, if it was the last thing he did.
Fresh fuel drives his search, he yanks open one door, peering in, but not entering. He saw Cas standing in the middle of a mass of dead bodies, the smocked outline of wings revealing them as Angels. Cas' own bloodied Angel blade gripped tight in his fist as he stared down at the massacre.
Leaving the door open and keeping that Cas in his sight, Dean backed up and opened the door behind him, quickly glancing over his shoulder. Inside that room was another Cas, shirt ripped open, chained and bloodied, pleading for a quick death.
Neither of these Castiel's responded to his shouts, none of them were real. He hurried on. Door after door, nightmare after nightmare, calling out desperately for his Angel.
He saw him standing in front of a mirror, shirt pulled open, face panic-stricken as he watched in horror as something monstrous within tried to force itself out from the Angels' stomach, stretching the sore ridden skin unnaturally. He saw him in white scrubs, huddled in fear in the corner of a hospital room, arms clutched around his head while Lucifer mocked and threatened. He saw Cas glowing in grace, shadows of his wings showing behind him in tatters, what little feathers remained on the wounded and bloody limbs were molting heavily. He saw Cas standing in a huge open white warehouse littered with dozens of slaughtered corpses each one wearing Dean's face. He saw a woman, brow shrapnell'ed with glass shards, telling Cas Heaven didn't want his help, they wanted his head. He saw him graceless, human, huddled in a doorway in an attempt to shield his shivering body against the downpour of rain. And many more, each just as bad or worse than the one before. So much blood, pain, torment, suffering.
Eventually he started tuning out what he was seeing, only glancing in long enough to call to him and see if that Cas would respond in any way. He didn't want to see more than that, but he couldn't stop what he heard. The magnitude of voices, sometimes hearing Cas' own, but mostly others, he heard his own voice more often than he liked. "You can't stay." "Nobody cares that you're broken, Cas. Clean up your mess!" "You're the famous spanner in the works. Honestly, I think you came off the line with a crack in your chassy." "Top of the Christmas tree Castiel, no more than a doop." "Next time I won't miss!" "You are expendable. Weak." "I just followed the sound of your pain. You have no idea how loud it is." "You don't even die right, do you." "I ask you to help me. Please. Save me from doing the worst." "I'm sorry Dean." "I don't care!" "You are broken, Castiel." "How many times have you tore into my head and washed it clean?" "Frankly, too damn many."
He lost count of the amount of doors he opened, shouted into, calling to the version of Cas he found there, not daring to actually enter. The action became repetitive, habit, trying to distance himself from what he saw there, reminding himself over and over, it wasn't real, it wasn't real, none of this was actually happening, it was only a dream... Before he finally - FINALLY!- got a reaction.
In what felt like the thousandth door, the Angel's head turned towards him at the sound of his name and Dean quickly stepped into the room. Until then he hadn't considered the surroundings, he was only looking for Cas. Where he found the Angel was irrelevant, as long as he found him. But now he had, he looked and checked out where they were.
They were in what appeared to be a large rundown garden shed. Vines grew through holes in the roof and walls, letting in spotlights of golden sunlight. Shelves lined all the walls filled with pots and tools, and many other things Dean had never laid eyes on before. Bees buzzed happily against the window, through which Dean could just make out a man flying a kite in the distance. If someone had told Dean that this shed had stood there for a hundred years Dean would have believed them. It was old, worn, but not one speck of dust, not one cobweb. It smelt of honey and felt homely.
Cas stood behind a sturdy looking wooden work bench. He watched closely as Dean approached, his eyes scanning over the hunter's worried features, his lips parted loosely, before his searching eyes found Deans, locking on in a gentle realization. His brow puckered, "Dean?"
"Yeah, Cas, it's me." Dean told him softly, approaching the Angel cautiously, like he was a cornered animal that would bolt at any moment. He looked... lost, completely lost. "You okay?"
"I-" Cas' eyes were back to flitting aimlessly once more, his frown deepened. "What are you- how are you here?"
Dean ignored his question, he didn't know how much longer the African Dream tea would be in effect or how long they'd already been stuck in Cas' nightmares for, but either way he needed to get Cas out of this and the sooner the better. "Listen man, this isn't real. You're not really here, neither of us are. You're dreaming. We're at the bunker and you've gone full lights on but nobody's home on us. I need you to wake up. You have to wake up."
"I'm not asleep Dean, I don't sleep." The huffiness of his tone sounded to Dean like a parent patiently addressing a stubborn child. "These aren't dreams. You're in my mind, These are my memories."
"Your mem-" Dean couldn't finish. The enormousness of what he was hearing rushing upon him, all at once. All the things he'd seen, all the rooms filled with nightmares, tortures and pain, weren't actually nightmares. He knew at least parts of some had been based in truth, but he had assumed they were some twisted turn of events leaning towards some darkened dream. To know that they had actually happened, all of it, every last thing he'd seen. They had happened to Cas... He couldn't think about that now. He had a job to do. "Well whatever this is you need to snap out of it."
"I can't. Not yet. There's something I have to do first."
Dean rubbed the back of his neck to dispel his frustration, wondering if it was like sleepwalking where it was dangerous to shock them awake. Would it be better to argue, to convince Cas to wake now with him or to play along with whatever Cas was doing. The Angel had never been easy to talk out of whatever plan he's had in the past. Once the stubborn son of a bitch was sure that what he was doing was the right thing there was simply no changing his mind. Decision made, Dean spoke, "Okay, so, what's that then? How can I help?"
Cas looked at him like that was the last thing he had been expecting to hear come out of his mouth and maybe it was. "You want to help?"
"Sure," Dean gave him a lopsided smile and a half shrug, "why not?"
"Alright," Cas said after a thoughtful pause. Dean moved around the bench, coming to stand behind the Angel as Cas started assembling what he needed in front of them both, all of which seemed to be small pots of paint. Not understanding what any of this meant Dean remained silent, watching what the Angel was doing from over his shoulder, closely.
"This is the simplest way I can think of to explain it to you," Castiel told him as he worked, prising the lids off with an old screwdriver. Once they were all opened he stood aside and gestured to the rainbow assortment before them both. "Find the yellow," he said seriously.
Giving Cas a confused side-eye, still not following, but trusting he would get an answer eventually, Dean does what he's told and picks up the one containing the vibrant yellow paint.
"That's how easy it is when you know them, even if I were to mix it with another color, or add a million other shades, you'd still know that was yellow."
It wasn't a question, Cas was stating a fact, but Dean nodded anyway, slowly. "Where are you going with this Cas?"
"This is how I see emotions, Dean." Cas stated as he started pouring the paints randomly onto the bench top, working quickly as he spoke. "Angel's aren't meant to feel, Dean. And even if we do we have to repress them. So I have very little experience in coping with them openly. It's insanely confusing at times. Visualizing them as colors helps me." When they were all emptied, Cas pressed his palm into the mess and swirled it round.
Now really wasn't the time for finger painting, but Dean remained quiet, giving the Angel a chance. Truth be told he was a little curious to what Cas was trying to explain, and he'd gone this far, might as well get the full story.
"It allows me to decipher them individually, but when I get many at once and they get muddled and it's very hard to understand, to pick each one from the mass." Castiel continued to stir the paint as he spoke, holding up his hand to Dean when he finished, showing him the messy palm and fingers, coated in well mixed brown. "Can you see the yellow now, Dean?"
"No," Dean admitted, sadly seeing Cas point. But there was more that Dean hadn't expected.
"Now imagine how hard it would be if you'd been born colorblind and only recently gained the ability to see them. How then would you know which is yellow?"
Dean couldn't help the stab of empathy as he looked at him. Empathy and guilt. He had never before considered how learning to feel must be for Cas. It was something people do without thought, but to an Angel it was an alien concept, completely against his nature. He should have realized how hard it was for Cas, how confusing. He should have been there to help him through it before now and he vowed to do so in the future, if Cas would allow him to. But for now he couldn't let Cas continue on like this knowing what he did. Knowing the reason for Cas' confusion.
With a mournful sign, Dean gently took Cas' cheek and turned the Angel's head up to face him, letting go when Cas' eyes met his, "Is this 'cause of what happened last night? Is that what you're trying to figure out?" Dean asked, hoping he was wrong, knowing he was right.
"Yes."
Knowing didn't make the answer hurt less. Dean swallowed dryly, choking down his own feelings, focusing on what his Angel needed. "Well, then you don't have to worry about it... What happened, it wasn't you. That's why it's confusing. What you were feeling, it wasn't real. It didn't come from you."
Cas' frown, complete with the held tilt and questioning eyes, increased and drove him to explain further.
"Amara, she urm, she promised me something, as a thank you I guess... but it's what caused all that. I think we were being controlled, a spell or something. Last night that... what happened... Cas, it wasn't us."
In less than a blink, upright suddenly became horizontal. The air behind him becoming soft pillows and memory foam. Cas was hovering over him, his bare chest pressed down tight to Dean's own, his face like a thunderous storm cloud, inches off Dean's. "What exactly did she say? Tell me everything!"
The intensity of Cas' 'you speak or I smite' stare, coupled with his being so close Dean could feel every breath Cas spoke puff against his face, seemed to draw the truth from Dean's lips without any conscious thought. "She- Before she left with Chuck she said I'd given her what she needed most and wanted to do the same for me."
"That's it?"
Still caught in that penetrating stare Dean's nod was quick but silent.
"That's what has led you to believe that we weren't acting on our own behalf?"
Another mute nod, this one less eager, more weary, more edged with guilt.
Cas didn't leave Dean's personal space, but he did back up slightly, giving Dean some room to breath and dropped his head, breaking the stare. "So you believe I was what you needed most."
It wasn't a question, it was sighed out from the Angel, in a quiet breath of relief. But it was a realized deep confession, that Dean didn't want known. He opened his mouth abruptly to deny it, closing it immediately after when he realized that he had no idea how to do so. There was no way he could sway any argument and make it believable after what he had just unwittingly admitted. He had, and still did, believe that Cas was what he needed most and Cas now, thanks to his confession, knew that as well.
"I was never going to act on it." Dean admitted, trying to make it sound like the apology that it was, because he was sorry. Sorry his feelings had gotten between them. Sorry that he had dragged Cas into this mess. Sorry that he had risked their friendship because of it all. He was just sorry.
"Why?"
It was a simple question, but impossible to answer and the stare was back, softer, less smite worthy, less anger, but just as intense and it caused Dean to stammer. "Cause I-" don't deserve you "...I knew you didn't-" want me that way. How could you?'
He shook his head unable to finish either sentence. How could he explain that to Cas? How could he explain it in a way that would make Cas understand. "You're a frigging Angel, Cas... I shouldn't... You deserve better."
Cas held a look of complete disbelief and sorrow. "Dean, you willingly volunteered your own life to save the world less than twenty-four hours ago. And just now you entered my mind without any hesitation or thought to what risk you may have been putting yourself into and yet you still refuse to have any faith in yourself. Still don't see the goodness, the strength of your soul and still don't believe that you deserve to have what you want. It's infuriating."
Dean swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. Where was the anger, the accusations of betrayal that he had expected. Cas looked hurt, but not in the way Dean had thought he would. He looked, sorrowful, mournful maybe, but it was focused on Dean's hurt, rather than his own. But he was spared from having to answer, as Cas continued.
"I went into my own mind because what I felt was intense and confusing... Not because it wasn't real. I meant everything I said, coerce or not, it was the truth."
"You mean you...?" He couldn't finish. Didn't know how to. All endings seemed impossible. 'Wanted me too.' 'feel the same'. He didn't dare hope.
"Yes, Dean." Cas' words, spoken like a vow, came out like a hot rush against Dean's skin.
Cas leant closer, close enough that they were breathing each other's breaths, Dean's heart hammered in his chest like it was trying to break free. But there Cas paused, allowing Dean a chance to pull away, to reject it or accept it, whatever he chose.
But there really was no choice. He wished he still felt the fierce resolve he had the night before, but this was too real, too precious and he was nervous.
Closing his eyes, Dean swallowed, hard. Their lips were barely an inch apart and Dean lifted up till he could feel the air between them tingle. It was all the signal Cas needed and, lips parting, he smoothly closed the distance between them.
Dean melted into the kiss. His hands coming up automatically to pull Cas closer still, hold him against his chest, feeling that weight that he had the night before, still unable to believe that it was all real. It was really happening.
All too soon, Castiel pulled back, his head jolting towards the door, as his brow furrowed, "Are you expecting company?" he asked, listening intently at something Dean's human hearing was not strong enough to pick up.
"No," Dean stated bluntly, wondering who it was Cas could be hearing. And was just about to ask when the sound of what was unmistakably a gunshot blare out echoing loud through the bunker.
Dean's eyes go wide with panic, "Sammy?"