Round 'n Round We Go

~Part Three~

"So… he just hung up on you?"

Bobby takes another beer from the fridge and pops the cap, taking a thirsty gulp.

"Yep." Dean answers bluntly, still fizzing over the whole incident.

"Have you considered the possibility that he's just worried about you?" Says Bobby, sighing as he settles into his favourite leather arm-chair.

Dean snorts loudly and abrasively at the voiced thought.

"That seems to be the problem, Bobby. He thinks I'm weak; thinks I'm just a stupid Omega who doesn't know how to take care of himself!" Dean huffs furiously, folding his arms across his chest.

"Come on now!" Bobby replies with just as much volume. "You know that's not true."

"It might as fucking well be!" Dean explodes, arms flinging into the air.

Bobby goes quiet, sinking back into his chair after leaning forward to argue with Dean, while the other man shoves his face into his hand, running his palm over his stubble and clearing his throat deeply.

"… I'm sorry, Bobby. I shouldn't have shouted."

"No," Bobby immediately agrees, the reprimanding tone causing Dean to wince at himself. "You shouldn't have."

There's another pause in the conversation, but the air between them goes soft when Bobby puts his beer down.

"Look Dean, if you need… space, or whatever you want to call it, then fine, you're welcome to stay here. But if this is just you running off on your own, avoiding talking to the stem of your issue like your daddy used to, then I want you to climb straight back in that car of yours and high tail your butt back home to sort this crap out. I won't be havin' idjits like you in my house who don't know how to sort out their damn problems."

Leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, Dean stares at his hands guiltily, considering the possibly that Bobby could be right, that this is all just error on his behalf. He pushes these thoughts to the back of his mind quickly though. How is this his fault? Cas is the one with the over-bearing nature, not him. Cas is the one who thinks Dean can't take care of himself or make it through one stupid pregnancy without hurting himself!

"I don't want to go home just yet, Bobby." He finally says, still staring at his hands, clasped around one another. "I… want some time… alone. Without Cas."

When he looks up, all he sees is the skeptical, questioning look that tells him Bobby thinks this a bad idea, but the words that leave the old Beta's mouth are just the opposite.

"Alright, if that's what you need, I'm happy to help out. You can stay in the spare room; you know where it is."

Dean throws him a half-hearted smile and grabs the duffel he packed from beside his chair.

"Thank you, Bobby." He says, standing.

"Yeah, no problem kid." Replies the gruff, old man as Dean walks out of the living room, heading for the stairs that lead to the second bedroom.

Dean manages to make it all the way to the second floor without much of a sweat and he pushes the bedroom door open as soon as he reaches it, throwing his stuff down onto the made bed as he waltzes in.

Yeah, it's nice to have a night without Cas worrying all over him. It's nice not to have someone constantly looming over his shoulder, ready for any groan of pain with a handful of painkillers.

It's with these thoughts on his mind that Dean changes from his day clothes to his night maternity clothes, shoving his bag off the bed unceremoniously before switching out the light and climbing in. After driving all day he's pretty tired, and he doesn't worry about keeping Bobby company, the old man's fond of his solitude anyway and enjoys the peace and quiet that running a scrap yard brings him.

Yet, as Dean snuggles into a bed that he'd last occupied as a child, a pang of yearning for Cas hits him and he falls into a dreamless sleep that doesn't seem to bring him comfort.

The next morning starts off much the same and he's awake with the want for Cas' scent before the real reason he woke becomes apparent. In less than two seconds, he's bolting for the bathroom, but he only makes it as far as the kitchen sink before the morning sickness hits with a ferocity he's not yet experienced. The smell of beer wafts around the room dangerously, acting as a trigger Dean hadn't known existed. He hurls violently, the alcohol somehow making it ten times worse than normal and tears leak from the corners of his eyes.

God, he feels awful! He understands why Cas doesn't keep beer in the house anymore. He used to love the smell of beer too, the smell of hops and the quiet promise that it would drown any unwanted memories if he just drank enough of it. Except now it just smells horrible! All it's doing to him now is turning his stomach and making him wish he was closer to the bathroom. He considers making a run for it, but he quickly cancels that idea, already knowing he'll never get that far before his stomach decides to do a back-flip and a circus trick.

With a moan he curses his weak stomach and on the end tail of his thoughts, he catches himself wishing that his Alpha was here beside him, taking care of him.

"What the hell, Dean." He mutters to himself, shaking Cas out of his mind. "Don't be so goddamn weak."

This was not how his father raised him. John Winchester told him not rely on anybody but himself, because in the end, it was just you against the world. All that wisdom still held true now. He didn't need Cas and he didn't want him. Didn't want his overbearing manner or his warm hands or his soft words or comforting touch… except, in truth, he did.