Chapter 4: Dreams
[Cas' POV]
His stomach quivered in an inexplicable manner as the man's hand hovered toward his forehead. Every cell in his body shook in anticipation like similar ends of a magnet just about to meet and repel each other. Some sense of familiarity touched Castiel's heart but there just wasn't enough to truly explain, why Gabriel seems so…close.
At the last moment he peeked up at Dean, who looked back at him and offered a reassurance smile, calming his jumpy heart like panacea. Then his consciousness dissolved into nothing.
They came like episodes: individual scenes floating up and soon replaced by another.
The scenery solidified around Castiel, it was bright, and the sun shone on him in the cloudless sky as soft zephyr hugged his body. Little patches of flowers clustered on the oily green spears of grass, dotting the flat plain like stars in the sky. An unbelievable calm washed over him: just, perfectly blissful. Like there are no worries, no trouble in the entire universe. His heart is so at ease, at ease because at last, he recognized it. It's a Tuesday in 1953, the after noon when an autistic man drowned in his bathtub. A plastic kite fluttered above him, weaving through the wind like a soaring bird. Holding the string is a man in a red jacket, seemingly unaware that he's going to die in a few short hours. Something about this place screams home but Cas couldn't grasp it, he just knew that it's the day he chose to live an eternity in and it provided peace for him at times when he felt agitated.
In slow motion, he bent down to look at a fragile pink flower swaying in the wind and touched the soft texture with curious fingers. He noticed something: burnt ground. Lines of brown charcoal intertwined between the grasses, forming what looked like angel wings. Taking a few urgent steps forward he found that they are everywhere. Beautiful yet twisted wings one next to another, dispersed evenly on the lawn and suddenly Castiel's viewing the entire place from birds eye, there must have been dozens, perhaps even hundreds of wings burnt onto the ground—his head spun along with the world and it felt as if he has a terrible heavy weight laid on his chest, suffocating him. And everything twirled away.
When the surroundings manifested around him again he's in a dark, locked up basement room. A strange sign was written in blood on the wall behind a group of people and a sickening splash of organs and vessels formed a human shape right beside the symbol, behind three people. A conversation was going on between Dean, a middle aged man with a baseball cap and someone that looked scarily like…himself. Similar but … not really. See the Cas he's looking had a belittling smirk on, chin raised high and looked at Dean as if he's nothing but a puppet controlled by someone of higher power, like a pawn in a game he can just sacrifice anytime. This is so wrong. He thought to himself. But the other Cas looks unmoved, emotionless, soulless.
"I know there's a lot of bad water under the bridge," Dean said as he took a little step toward Castiel, looking at him straight in the eyes "But we were families once… I would have died for you. So if that means anything to you, please. I've lost Lisa, I've lost Ben, and I've lost Sam… Don't make me loose you too. " He shook his head and left his green eyes closed, face screwed up and broken, wishing that the other Castiel can see just how much pain he's been through and how unfair the world is to his young life.
But Castiel smiled, humorlessly.
"You're just saying that because I won; because you're afraid." He said and took little steps forward, staring Dean down until they're almost nose-to-nose. "You're not my family Dean. I have no family."
Dean's lips quivered as his heart shattered within him. He's lost nearly everything he's loved and now, even his angel, the one his mother said will watch over him as he sleeps.
No…NO. Castiel cried out but the images in front of him have began to fade, as he ran he floated through the trollies on the ground like a ghost and no matter how fast he sprinted, he seemed to get further and further away from the scene; until it all disappeared like a distant star.
Light flooded into his vision this time, two yellowish light bulbs blinked at him from the rough dark ceiling of a room. The room is nicely furnished, one queen bed placed in the middle of the room. Where people's posters usually goes is instead replaced by all types of machine guns, machetes and dangerous weapons. Castiel should be freaking out right now, but instinct told him other wise. Safe. He rolled his body to the right and felt his spinal cords pop back into place.
Wait—he stopped and thought. He felt. He's feeling. Then he pinched his triceps and felt the blissfully familiar feeling of pain radiate up his nerves.
"You're awake." A soft voice said beside him and he flinched so hard that his sore neck threatened to break in two. Looking at the source of the voice Castiel found dean, in a white bathrobe with his usual plaid shirt sticking up near the top. He looks good even with the dark circles under his eyes. In Dean's hand is a thick leather covered book, which he closed to put aside onto the nightstand.
"Are you real?" Cas said as he reached out to run his hand through Dean's messy hair. Sure enough, the silky texture slid under his fingers and propped right back to its untidy but stylish look. If this is real then…what about the dreams? Cas thought uneasily as he remembered the coldhearted look and dead voice. 'You're not my family Dean.' "What happened?"
"We called someone to fix you up, and he did." Dean smiled and caught Cas' hand before it fell back onto the mattress. "See?" he pointed at the fingertips. "No broken nails."
Castiel is so grateful that his eyes began to water up but he stopped as something inside him clenched up. Like he does not deserve all this care that he's getting. He couldn't remember much and he has a feeling that if he did, he'd be drowning in guilt. At least that's what the dreams and the snippets of his past hinted.
"In case you're wondering. This is the Men of Letters bunker. It's our safe house, nothing to fear for here." Dean said with a cheerful voice although fatigue is laced within. "This is my room, how do you like my designing, bud?"
"Men of Letters huh? Sounds fancy, though without a doubt that you're as bright as when your perfect teeth sparkles under the light." Cas spoke with flattery. "Your room? Jesus Christ, did you bring me here to just show off your large variety of weapons? It is pretty nice though except the fact that if any of them falls down I am as well as dead."
"Never loose your good vibe huh? I can get used to having you around to cheer me up. Anyway in my opinion this is the best bed in this bunker. Memory foam, it remembers you." Dean said with emphasis and huffed out a laugh as he messaged his temples, shoulders hunched. Turning around, eyes weary he added, "How was your sleep?"
Castiel's twinkling eyes suddenly froze as the little smile left his lips. Dean felt the air of the room change and sat up straight, placing a firm hand on Cas' shoulder. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing to worry about, go rest."
"Stop being stubborn. I can tell when you lie, especially now that you are a … human." He paused for a moment before the word human, as if it hurts rolling off his tongue.
Human? Then what was I before? He thought but decided to say something else instead; sensing that it'd lead to a lot of headaches and Dean doesn't need more reasons to stress. "Dean…Was I a bad person?"
"No! Why would you ever say that?!" Dean said quickly, squeezing his shoulder a little harder and pushing it back so that Castiel is now facing him.
Castiel bit his lips as his eyes shifted around the room, landing on anything but Dean. He crossed and uncrossed his fingers, feeling the jumpiness inside him. You should just let him relax, Cas. You've probably caused enough trouble for him, you can't change anything about the past. "I'm so sorry…I'm so sorry for what I did to you, back then, no one deserve the hardship you had to go through and I wasn't there to help you along the way. I-I- abandoned you when you needed me the most."
"Cas, stop, what are you talking about?" Dean said anxiously, forcing his wild eyes to look at his calm ones. "We are family, we make mistakes, and we forgive each other. Whatever you're talking about, you're thinking too hard about it. See, I've done things that I am definitely not proud of, I didn't give you nearly enough credit, I tricked you, I even betrayed your trust…" He stopped to take a deep breath, "so many people died because of me, Castiel. And that guilt is not going to leave, you just have to—"
Castiel cannot change the past, but he sure can change the future. And he cannot watch Dean get hurt again. The remnant of the broken man in front of him breaks his heart and he'd do anything to place the little pieces back together.
And he did what he could at the moment.
Dean felt all the air leave his lungs as a pair of firm lips slammed onto his. The kiss was rough at first, but soon turned sweet. So full of forgiveness that they both felt their hearts tug them toward each other; like two broken halves finally becoming one and finding their rightful place in the world.
Dean's hand loosened their grips on Cas' shoulders as they fell freely to the curve of Cas' elbows, closing around his biceps. Castiel raised his arms so that both his hands are at the bottom of Dean's jaw, pushing his face up so that their kiss won't break. Dean didn't want to it break, he wants it to last forever. It's just so calming, to feel warmth and power to seep from one person to another even if it's a simple touch at the lips.
"C-C—" Dean sighed between little kisses, feeling his neck burning and heart hammering in his chest. He pulled back and blinked several times, the taste of Cas' lips still lingering on his. "I—"
"Shh…" Cas whispered as he pressed their foreheads together and placed a finger on Dean's full bottom lip. "Just shut up and kiss me."
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