Content: In which Dean tells Castiel about his past.
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Author's Note: So guys, this time you're getting an extra long chapter :) This particular scene is actually one of the very first ones I developed when this story was merely an idea and nothing more, and I got kinda emotional writing it, to be honest, so I hope it'll have the same effect on you!
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Castiel feels a bit like a frustrated parent when the party group eventually return back to the estate and he tries to put all of the more or less intoxicated men into their beds one by one.
Granted, most of them follow him willingly, merely in need of some directions to navigate the mansion, but some turn into real life menaces. Inias starts to sing a disturbingly graphic version of a folk song aloud right there in the hallway and Castiel actually finds himself wrestling him to his knees at some point since he proves to be fairly insistent and doesn't react to Castiel's soothing pleas to keep his voice down. And Balthazar seems all of a sudden highly offended by the clothes wrapped around his body and attempts (and one time almost succeeds) to undress himself right there where he stands, not caring about his surroundings in the least. On the contrary, he appears outright pleased with himself when Castiel doesn't manage to reach him fast enough and he presents his underwear for all the world to see.
Thankfully Gabriel, on the other hand, isn't as drunk as his companions – mainly because he didn't want to face Kali's wrath if he'd dare to show up to the wedding hungover –, but his desire for constant contact and affection didn't die down in the last few hours. He keeps embracing Castiel, touching him in appropriate and not so appropriate manners, and it takes them a really long time – and a lot of "I love you"s and "You're my favorite brother in the whole wide world"s – to finally reach Gabriel's room and tuck him into his bed.
Castiel feels absolutely exhausted in the end and sighs in relief when he fantasizes about jumping into some much more comfortable clothes and drifting off to sleep. He's fairly sure it'll take him no time at all to get there.
But just when he wants to walk around the corner he notices the lights burning in the kitchen. Creasing his forehead in confusion he strides toward it, wondering whether someone simply forgot to put them off or whether one of his drunk kids escaped out of his bed to grab some midnight snack or even more booze.
Castiel inhales deeply, prepared to scold whoever might be in there.
But he freezes in surprise when he finds Dean of all people sitting on one of the kitchen chairs, Emma on his lap. They look relaxed and happy as they talk in hushed voices while Emma sips on a glass of milk and for a split second Castiel is overwhelmed by the sudden need to join them, to be near them. It's coming from deep within and he's quite certain he never felt it before in such a capacity.
Emma is the first to spot him and her whole face lights up. "Cas," she squeals excited, waving him over like it's the most natural thing. She nudges her father, probably to make him aware of the other man's presence, but Dean already detected him before his daughter's verbal acknowledgment, his eyes turning even softer at the sight of Castiel.
Castiel's not sure what to do with that.
"Why are you awake?" he wonders instead, glancing at his watch which reads 2:30 AM.
"My tummy got hungry," Emma informs him, sounding all kinds of pleased. "Daddy gave me a yogurt. And milk.
Dean merely shrugs behind his daughter, dark bags underneath his eyes making it more than clear that it hasn't been his decision to leave his comfy bed. Castiel instantly feels bad for him and for a second there he considers offering to watch Emma until she'd get tired again, so Dean would be able to go back to sleep, but in the end Castiel refrains from suggesting his proposal. Dean wouldn't have been capable of finding any kind of peace after leaving Emma behind anyway. He'd rather fall asleep right there on the chair.
"You look exhausted," Dean points out.
Right back at you, Castiel thinks to himself as he sighs deeply. "Gabriel's parties are always very … tiring."
It's probably the understatement of the century. Granted, this night hadn't been as bad as some other times, mainly because Gabriel did wanna keep his promise to Kali not to be crippled by a hangover at their wedding, but Castiel still feels like it couldn't have ended soon enough.
"I guess your own bachelor party will look fairly different, am I right?" Dean asks, the edge of his mouth twitching upwards.
Castiel can't help a frown, however. He actually never spared one single thought about that, if he's being honest. "I suppose?"
"Let me guess," Dean says, leaning forward as if he's sharing some important secrets. "Your perfect bachelor party is probably renting a whole library for the night, just for you and your buddies, lounging in comfortable armchairs, reading nerdy books and discussing deep literary topics until dawn."
Castiel really doesn't know why his whole face decides to turn red, but it sure as hell happens. "Um, that sounds … nice?"
Dean grins proudly. "And I guess somewhere along the way some burgers and fries have to be involved as well, right?"
Castiel chuckles. "And some milkshakes, too."
Dean smiles easily, his features so soft that Castiel feels his head getting fuzzy for a second there. He wonders whether the two drinks he had that night finally start to show some effect on him or if it's something else entirely. Something he doesn't really dare to even name because it's way too heavy and confusing.
"But your night was alright, more or less?" Dean asks. "No … molesting or anything?"
Castiel laughs quietly. "Well, a woman that works there approached me at some point, but we only talked about her cats, so it doesn't actually count." Dean grins at him, as if he didn't expect anything else. "And your text messages really helped, I have to admit. I had a surprisingly fun evening, thanks to you."
Dean rubs his neck, obviously bashful. "It was nothing …" he mumbles.
"I probably would have spent most of the night playing some games on my phone," Castiel says. "But talking with you was far more entertaining."
While Dean still looks a bit shy, like he can't really believe that someone would enjoy having a conversation with him, Emma glances back and forth between them, an expression on her cute face Castiel noticed a few times before. It almost seems calculating.
And then her gaze drifts to Dean's phone on the table that just vibrated once, indicating an incoming text, and her features light up.
As if she's just been successful in forming a plan.
"Daddy, your phone dances," she informs her father, trying for casual, but the excitement in her eyes clear as day.
"Yeah, yeah …" Dean mutters, absentminded.
"Is it Grandpa again?" Emma asks, already grabbing the phone and pulling it closer to her.
Dean snaps out of his thoughts at her question while Castiel can't help rising his brows in surprise. "Your father?"
Dean throws a brief look at the message, nodding fleetingly. "Uh, yeah," he admits. "He's got the night shift at the powerhouse and sometimes he gets a little bored. And since Emma and I were up anyway and I promised Dad before to message him at some point about the wedding and stuff, why not now?"
There are still hundred of questions popping up in Castiel's head and he's almost dying to blurt them out all at once, but Emma's presence keeps him from letting it out. He can't say things like "In high school I heard rumors of your father being a shitty parent, leaving his sons to fend for themselves – is that true?" right in front of her.
So he stays silent. For now.
"Can I call him?" Emma's eyes turn wide and hopeful as she turns around on her father's lap to look at him. "Please?"
Dean sighs. "Honey, it's the middle of the night. You should be in bed –"
"Please, please, please?" she continues, bouncing up and down. "I wanna tell him about the horses and about dancing –"
Dean rubs his forehead in clear exasperation, most likely way too tired to have a proper argument with his widely awake daughter. "I'll text him, okay? If he's got some free time and it's alright with him, I'm in."
Emma beams at him. "Then I can talk with Grandpa and you can talk with Cas!"
Dean halts for a moment, exchanging a look with her Castiel is unable to decipher, both of them just communicating with their eyes, but in the end he inhales deeply, like he just lost some kind of battle, and types the message to his father.
Just a few seconds later he gets the answering text. "Grandpa would love to speak with you apparently," Dean tells Emma after reading his message. "So I guess it's fine."
While Emma squeals in delight Dean dials John Winchester's number, appearing both reluctant and defeated.
"Hey, Dad," Dean says as his father picks up the phone. "Yeah, she's got some trouble sleeping. Maybe you can help with that. – I dunno, tell her a boring story, that should do the trick. – Yeah, right. Or how about one of your work stories? Most of them are so dull I even fall asleep thinking about them now."
He laughs, actually seeming at ease instead of strained like Castiel half expected him to be, and he continues to chat good-naturedly with John for a few more moments until he hands over his phone to Emma.
The girl immediately jumps off Dean's lap and runs to the other side of the kitchen, eager for some privacy while talking with her grandfather. She instantly giggles mere seconds into their conversation, looking so carefree and beautiful that Castiel's heart starts to swell at the mere sight.
It's honestly not something he anticipated.
After the rumors he heard back in high school and the way Dean shut down and got monosyllabic when his father was mentioned just a few days ago, Castiel seriously didn't expect this man would be a part of Dean's life anymore.
"You have questions, right?" Dean studies him intently, apparently not having to be a psychic to read Castiel's mind.
However, Castiel is quite sure he's wearing his feelings right on his skin anyway.
"I do," he confesses. "But that doesn't mean they have to be answered. You don't need to tell me anything."
Dean quirks his head to one side. "Even in fifty years, when we're both old and gray?"
Castiel smiles, enjoying the picture of them both still being friends in such a distant future. "Yes, even then. I know that some things are very hard to talk about and I seriously would never judge you for staying silent. It wouldn't impact our friendship at all."
Dean's whole demeanor gentles. "You're something else, you know?"
"I guess that's good?"
Dean nods slightly. "Very good," he confirms. "I mean, the last person I let really close to me … well, she always nagged me to open up. To share my feelings and stuff." Dean scoffs. "The thing is, I probably would've at some point. I like to be honest with people I care about and … uh, I guess my past is important to understand me better somehow or whatever." He shrugs, most likely trying for casual. "But she pestered me, over and over, and at some point – well, I just shut down. Til this day she probably thinks of me as that stupid ex with way too many walls around his heart."
It's obvious that he's trying not to be affected by that, eager to treat it like a side note in the book that tells the Great Life of Dean Winchester, but he fails miserably. It's in his eyes and his posture and though Castiel could be wrong in interpreting all these things because he's been shit at this basically since the dawn of time, he feels confident about this nevertheless.
Somehow it's easy to read Dean, to analyze his actions, his behavior, and Castiel has no idea why that is, but he has accepted it as some weird exception from the rule. Granted, there are still many thing that confuse Castiel about the other man, however, he's got the impression he understands Dean's feelings better than anyone else's.
And right now he tries his hardest to be nonchalant while talking about his ex-girlfriend, but the emotions on his features are giving him away. Apparently she put too much pressure onto him and it still has a lasting effect until this day.
Castiel promises himself to never be responsible for Dean having to endure this again.
"Well, whatever that person put on you wasn't fair," Castiel says with emphasis. "If you're not ready, you're not ready. It's as simple as that."
Dean's expression turns warm and open as he responds, "And that's why I wanna tell you."
Castiel lifts his brows in surprise. "Really?" he wonders, astonished. "You seriously don't have to –"
"But I want to," Dean cuts in. "You're a good friend, Cas. I mean, technically we don't know each other very long – at least really know each other –, but there is something … I dunno. I can't exactly explain it."
Castiel's stomach starts to flutter as he recalls telling Balthazar almost the same just hours ago. "I know what you mean."
Dean smiles brilliantly at him. "That's great. Uh, I guess."
Castiel chuckles amused. "Yes, I guess so, too."
Dean falls silent for a moment, simply staring at Castiel as though attempting to study him very intensely, before he eventually takes a very deep breath, obviously preparing himself for what is about to happen.
"So," he begins, clearing his throat awkwardly. "I know there was a lot of rumors back in high school about my family. And I wanna tell you right from the start that most of them were utter crap."
Castiel can't help a snort. "Yeah, I figured that your father hadn't been a drug lord."
"Kind of a shame, actually," Dean jokes. "I've heard those guys make a lot of money."
Castiel laughs briefly while at the same time wondering how rumors like that even come to life and are spread around with people actually taking them seriously.
"But some of the stuff was actually true," Dean continues, his voice lower now. "My dad wasn't … well, he wasn't father of the year, y'know? Any year, to be precise." He chews his bottom lip. "My mom died when I was four. A house fire, so it's not like anyone would've seen it coming or something. Just from one moment to the next – she was just gone."
Castiel considers pulling him into a hug and making it as affectionate as possible, but their positions are awkward and before he's even able to come up with a way to see this actually happen without leaning over the table, Dean begins talking again.
"My dad didn't take the whole thing well," Dean explains. "I mean, who would, right? Suddenly being a single father … I know now how hard it can be and I had the luxury of actually getting the opportunity to prepare myself for my new role during Lydia's pregnancy. My dad, however, just got punched into the face out of the blue. He didn't stand a chance."
Dean inhales deeply. "He started to drink. I think at first just in the evening, to get himself to sleep. Then it happened more often during the day, too. Beer, whiskey, brandy – so many bottles were scattered around the house. At some point he didn't even care putting them out of his kids' reach.
"And I think I was around eight years old when he began to leave us all on our own. At first just in the night, probably visiting as many bars as possible. But then he vanished for days and later, when I was in my teenage years, even for weeks. He never left a note or anything, he just disappeared. No phone number, no possibility to contact him somehow. We got a phone call here and there and sometimes some vague coordinates, but that was about it."
Castiel's whole chest begins to constrict hearing this story. Granted, this had been one of the rumors in school, probably the most prominent one thinking about it now, but to actually have it confirmed is a whole new level.
Castiel wants to pipe in, wants to articulate his sympathies, but he stays quiet. Dean doesn't need any interruptions right now.
"He didn't get violent or anything," Dean says, obviously keen to make this fact crystal clear. "Never once. Yeah, he was terrifying sometimes, all big and rough, but he never laid a finger on us. He just couldn't stand staying around us for a longer time. I dunno, maybe we reminded him of Mom or maybe our presence made him realize all his mistakes and failures and he was too much of a chickenshit to deal with that … He just left, over and over. And one day – he just didn't show up again. He just – disappeared."
Dean falls silent after this, shutting his eyes for a minute while his body begins to become rigid. He's clearly highly affected by these events and nobody can blame him for this, that's for sure.
"I took care of Sammy most of the time." A small smile flickers over Dean's face at the mention of his brother. "He was an obnoxious little piece of shit, but somehow we managed. When we were younger, Dad left us at least enough money so we wouldn't starve, and when I got older I got myself a job. I've been working in Bobby's garage since I'm fourteen."
His features turn soft once again thinking about his old friend. "Bobby was a great help, y'know? He didn't know everything because he'd have flipped his shit and called Child Protective Services or something. Sure, that would've been the right move and nowadays I can't help wondering if that wouldn't have been the better choice in the end, but back then I was scared that Sam and I would end up separated and never see each other again. Bobby suspected, of course, but he never got definite proof. Nonetheless, he was a big help, bringing over food almost constantly, claiming that his wife is cooking always way too much anyway, and paying me good money for my work while making sure that I didn't miss any school. I'm not sure what would've happened without him."
A brief smile plays over Dean's lips and Castiel can't help silently thanking this man for standing behind Dean and Sam and making their lives a little bit better.
"It took years for our dad to finally show his face again," Dean continues, his voice suddenly bitter now. "We had gotten some text messages and postcards over that time, so we knew he wasn't dead, but that had been about the only contact between us back then. So when he showed up on my doorstep out of the blue I just thought he ran out of money and needed some cash and somewhere to sleep, figuring that I'd be once again the dutiful son and grant him any wish. Though for the first time ever in my life I was more than ready to kick his stupid ass and never let him cross the threshold." His eyes begin to glimmer. "Took me a while to get there, to be honest. All my life I made excuses for that man, telling others and myself over and over again that he had done the best he could given his circumstances. Sammy more than once had my head for this, we fought a lot about that specific topic. After one really bad argument he didn't even speak to me for weeks."
He sighs deeply. "I can't even say what changed my mind eventually. Sammy is mostly to blame for this, of course, but I guess some was simply me. I guess it started with me opening up to other people. Normal people with normal childhoods. Hearing their stories I slowly realized how crappy my own had been in comparison. I mean, deep down I already knew that, naturally, I'm not blind or anything, but … to a certain degree I was in denial, I think. I can't really explain."
Castiel nods in understanding. "With growing life experiences sometimes things from the past suddenly appear in a totally different light."
"Yep, that's it," Dean agrees. "So when my dad showed up, after all these years, I was at a point in my life where I just wanted to punch his stupid face, y'know? I was so ready to tell him to fuck himself and send him away, you have no idea!" He clenches his fist, probably picturing the moment vividly in his mind. "And then the bastard had to ruin everything by apologizing!"
Castiel tilts his head. "He apologized?"
"Yep." Dean scoffs. "Just like that, can you believe that? And not some flimsy comment á la 'Hey, Dean, sorry for what I put you through, we're good now?' No, he got really deep, told me that he knew that I've got no reason to forgive him and that he didn't actually expect that to happen in the next ten minutes or even the next ten years, but he would try to make up for it, every day for the rest of his life, and 'if you wanna punch me, boy, just do it, I deserve everything and more' …"
Castiel studies Dean intently, watches him grimacing as though his father genuinely apologizing to him had been the worst thing possible.
"I mean, he totally took the fun out of it." Dean grits his teeth. "I was so ready to beat the crap out of him, y'know? To get it all out of my system or whatever. But he just had to apologize like that, didn't he?"
He shakes his head in disbelief, as if he still, after all these years, can't really believe his father took that pleasure from him as well.
"He met someone," Dean continues. "Kate. A nice woman, really. Dad apparently fell heads-over-heels for her and realized he had to change some things in his life to be with her."
Dean's voice sounds way more embittered now and Castiel can't blame him. John was seemingly willing to get himself together for this Kate, but never really bothered to do the same thing for his sons all those years ago. It must have hurt both Dean and Sam in way Castiel can't even comprehend.
"He got better. For her." Dean clenches his fists, his knuckles turning white for a moment. "He didn't quit drinking entirely, but he seriously tamed it down. Told us that he could handle a beer once or twice a day easily and that he didn't have to shut down everything. And well, alcoholism is a self-diagnosed disease most of all, so I didn't wanna tell him he's wrong or something. I mean, he looked better, healthier, so …" Dean shrugs. "Sammy, of course, still argued with Dad about that. Pushed him to get professional help or maybe at least go to some AA meetings, stuff like that. I mostly stayed out of it 'cause, well, I think I was just tired of all this crap. I didn't really care anymore. Sam and I got our lives together without that man supporting us, I just wanted this shit show to end, y'know?
"Dad, however, was really eager to fix things with us," Dean says, scoffing. "I guess that was mostly Kate's influence than anything else, so I wasn't really keen to go through with it. I would've been happy with just seeing him on the holidays and getting a Christmas card every year and that would've been it. But Dad's a stubborn son of a bitch."
Castiel glances at Emma as she talks animatedly with her grandfather on the phone, telling him everything about his riding lessons, and can't help registering that John Winchester obviously got his way in the end.
"He was making all this effort," Dean explains. "He even kept himself from drinking alcohol in our presence, knowing fairly well that neither Sam nor I liked it very much. He tried to include us, asked about our lives, even offered us some money to somehow make up a bit for all the crap he put us through financially. But our relationship didn't really get better." He heaves a deep sigh. "I was tired of fighting, so I was at least willing to accept his company for a short amount of time, but damn, Sam would take none of that. They argued before Dad came back all the time, but it got even worse and worse now. At some point they could barely look at each other without both of them exploding. It got really bad, til the point where you can't stop wondering if there's even anything left to fix."
Dean halts for a moment, licking his lips. "And then the accident happened."
Castiel listens up immediately. He still hears the tone of Dean's voice when he told him about that severe car accident the other day and he stills feels chills running through his veins merely thinking about it.
"Remember how I told you that Dad and Sam were in the car with me?" Dean asks. "We just came back from meeting Kate for the first time. The dinner was nice and she was actually quite lovely, but afterwards, in the car ... well, I can't remember much. Sammy and Dad started to argue again, practically as soon as we said our goodbyes to Kate, and I was just sitting there in the backseat, trying to stay out of it and already drifting off a bit ..."
Dean's body starts to tense up, obviously affected by the memory. Before he knows what he's even doing, Castiel reaches out and takes Dean's hand into his, squeezing it in a hopefully reassuring manner. Dean looks up at the contact, for a moment seemingly confused, but he doesn't move away. On the contrary, he even tightens the grip a little, a shy smile flickering over his mouth.
"The truck driver that hit us fell asleep on the wheel," Dean says after a while. "He smashed right into the side of my Baby and ... um, I can't really recall anything after that. I only remember the headlights coming closer, that's about it. After that, nothing for me."
Castiel is actually glad to hear that. During his studies he heard a lot of gruesome stories, of people being conscious and aware of everything going on around them after just experiencing a heavy, painful and mostly bloody trauma. Dean suffered enough as it is, he seriously doesn't need the actual memory of the accident as well.
"Well, both Sammy and Dad were a freaking mess after it happened, according to what other people told me," Dean continues. "Sam blamed himself since he was driving the car and Dad was blaming himself 'cause he distracted Sammy with their stupid fight. In reality, no one was at fault here – like I said, that driver just fell asleep, nothing to be done about that –, but in situations like that logic and common sense start to step into the background, right?
"So yeah, they beat themselves up about that. Badly. Especially when my condition got worse for a while. I needed several surgeries, I crashed down more than once and for at least a week the doctors had their serious prepare for the worst faces on. Bobby told me during that time he always flinched when his phone rang, fearing that it'd be Sam or Dad telling him that I had died."
Castiel's stomach begins to churn uncomfortably. He can't even imagine the hell Dean's family went through, it's even awful to merely hear the story with Dean sitting here, safe and sound. How must it have felt like, seeing Dean in that hospital bed, countless tubes and wires penetrating his body, so weak and injured and close to death?
It must have been the most terrible thing.
"My dad stopped drinking after that," Dean says, his voice wavering now. "Completely. Since that day he hasn't touched a drop of alcohol. He actually gets freaking sick now by the smell alone, it always makes him remember what happened. He threw out all of his bottles, he hasn't been to a bar in ages – he just went cold turkey from one moment to the other." Dean starts to squirm in his seat. "I guess it's been a struggle for his body, since you can't shake off over twenty years of booze just like that, but he didn't share with the class or anything. He simply went through with it, suffering in silence the whole time. Or at least not in front of Sammy and me …"
"I assume he didn't think it was his place to burden you with that," Castiel suggests. After everything John put his sons through he probably figured he didn't have the right to do so.
"Yeah, I guess," Dean admits, shrugging one shoulder. "He – he just changed after everything, y'know? While I was in the coma he stayed at the hospital the whole time and he actually cried when I finally woke up. I think I hadn't seen him cry since the night Mom died." Dean swallows audibly, most likely picturing that specific memory vividly. "And he kept staying after that. The hospital, rehab, recovery. In those months I've seen more of the man than in the twenty years before that. At least it felt that way. I actually had to ask him a few times to give me some space and I actually never thought I'd ever say something like that to him."
Castiel looks at Emma once again. She giggles at something her grandfather said, looking carefree and happy. She clearly doesn't see John as a crappy role model who disappointed his sons more times than you can count but as a man worth to be loved.
"I'm not sure I'd ever be able to forgive him," Dean says, his voice so low now that Castiel has to lean a bit closer to understand him. "I mean, what he did … I don't think I can bring myself to do so. Forgiveness and all that crap. But I guess I made some kind of peace with him." He bites his bottom lip. "He's making such an effort and I can appreciate that. And when he learned about Emma, he was so frigging happy. Offered to help take care of her and babysit and stuff. And sure, I wasn't super thrilled at first at the thought of leaving my kid with him, but he turned out to be a great granddad, I'll give him that. He adores Emma and she adores him …" He nods toward his daughter who's smiling so brightly it's almost blinding. "So yeah, to make a long story short, our relationship is still rocky, but we're getting there."
He falls silent after that, his gaze fixed on the table as if it's the most interesting thing in the whole room. Castiel, after suddenly realizing that he's somehow still holding Dean's hand, squeezes it once more and casts him a soft smile.
"Thank you for sharing this with me," he says gently. "I really appreciate your openness."
Dean makes an incoherent noise as he mumbles something underneath his breath.
"And I really admire you," Castiel adds. "Even more so than before."
Dean looks up at that, his brow furrowed like he can't fathom why anyone should feel that way about him. "Why?"
"Just very few people would have come out of this like you did," Castiel says with emphasis, determined to chase off the incredulity in Dean's eyes. "You became so strong, Dean. You took care of your brother, emotionally and financially, while other kids your age were worrying about grades and proms. You supported your family all this time and though it saddens me deeply that your circumstances forced you to do that instead of having a normal teenage experience, I'm at awe at the same time. Not one single person in our entire school would have had the strength you had and still have."
Dean simply stares at him, apparently absolutely speechless. His jaw goes slack as he listens to Castiel's words, looking as baffled as before. Castiel is quite sure that this is not the first time he hears this (Sam seems like the type of man who's eager to remind his brother about his achievements over and over again), but for some reason he obviously didn't expect Castiel – and probably most other people who aren't very close family – to bring it up at all.
"And instead of becoming bitter and mistrustful – which, by the way, nobody should have blamed you for either way, neither back in high school nor nowadays – you grew into this kind and compassionate man," Castiel continues. He knows his voice is most likely revealing too many emotions, but he can't help himself. "Even in school when you tried to get yourself some bad boy image so people would stay out of your business. You still showed so much love for Sam and so much benevolence for even a person you barely knew. Do you have any idea how much it meant for me back then that you agreed to fix my car?"
Dean ducked his head at some point, probably to hide his flushed cheeks, but at the last sentence he glances up for a split moment, shy and curious.
"Remember how I told you in the parking lot I had an important appointment I couldn't miss?" Castiel asks.
He doesn't really expect Dean to recall this minor detail, but to his surprise the other man actually nods briefly. "Yeah, I remember."
Castiel's whole demeanor gentles. "My mother … she had a doctor's appointment," he explains, feeling his throat clog up a little at the memory. "You see, before I joined you in senior year, I was homeschooled. Until the day my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer."
Now Dean's head snaps up instantly. "Cas …"
"That day, in the parking lot …" Castiel sighs deeply. "She just had finished her cycle of chemo therapy and she had an appointment with her oncologist to determine if the treatment was effective or not. And though she didn't show it from the outside, she was scared out of her mind. I needed to be there for her, I needed to get to her on time. But when my car didn't start, I grew panicked. I imagined her being alone in that huge doctor's office, so strong and at the same time so afraid, and I actually was ready to burst into tears right there. Until I spotted you."
The memory of sitting in his car, turning his key over and over and finally accepting the fact that his car decided to die on him on that specific day is sealed in his mind and Castiel doubt it will ever go away. He'd already been late because of some assignment which made him lose track of time and he wouldn't have been able to reach his mother on time by taking the bus. So yes, he was desperate, the exhaustion and tension of the last few months slowly catching up with him, and he wondered if God or whatever entity was punishing him for something.
And then there was Dean.
Castiel recalled his classmates talking about his mechanic skills and his beautiful car which he kept in shape all by himself, so Castiel took a chance and approached him before he could think better of it.
One of the best decisions he ever made.
"You just agreed to help me without expecting anything in return," Castiel states. "Hell, you even offered to drive me to my appointment if you wouldn't have been capable of fixing my car. Not a lot of people would have done that, you know?"
Dean still looks a bit overwhelmed, obviously not used to people talking about him like that, before he eventually mumbles, "Your mom …?"
Castiel smiles faintly. "The cancer was gone," he says. "And it never came back. She lived on for many years, went back to nursing and even created a blog with cooking tips." He takes a deep breath. "She died a few years back, though. A stroke."
Dean suddenly links their fingers together, the sudden warmth making Castiel's heart jolt for a moment. "I'm so sorry, Cas," he merely whispers, so many emotions wavering in his voice.
Castiel swallows, feeling a bit helpless confronted with Dean's open expression. "Um … thank you," he eventually manages. "She had a good life, though. And she didn't suffer in the end, so …"
He trails off, not sure what to add, as Dean nods sympathetically. "Yeah, I know."
The tension in Castiel's body slowly starts to dissipate. "And I'm still very grateful that you fixed my car that day," he repeats once more because he seriously couldn't emphasize this enough. "It meant so much to her that I went with her to the doctor. So thank you!"
Dean merely stares for a while. Tongue-tied. Motionless.
And Castiel reciprocates in kind since he's got honestly no idea how to proceed from here. It's so much, so many confessions, so many feelings, most of them rarely shared, if at all.
It's not been an everyday conversation, that's for sure.
And Castiel can't remember ever being so honest with someone before. Granted, he tends to be blunt and to say what's on his mind, but it's seriously not the same. Not by a long shot.
So they keep looking at each other, both of them struggling with their own thoughts and emotions.
But in the end, after what feels like forever, Dean suddenly inhales very deeply, as if preparing for battle, and he begins to fidget nervously on his chair.
"Cas," he says, his voice barely a breeze. "There … there is something I have to tell you. About – about Jo and me …"