Seven: The Martyr

Two days later

Dean was watching bad television when he heard a knock on the door. The news channels were the best way to pass his time, talking about Dean being a killer and Henriksen and Cas and Sam missing (god, what have you done, Cas?), so these days, he usually just sat with his stolen beers and watched that crap. There were interviews with people who'd seen Cas on the day that he'd fled the hospital, including a dude named Phil who seemed to be disappointed that Cas was a criminal.

"Told me he was scrubbing for a Whipple," he'd said, looking all shocked. "I don't know why he was here in the OR." Guess, genius. Where would you find weapons in a hospital?

A nurse said the same, that Cas had stolen an ID and actually told her the fucking truth about his situation (except the murder bit), and damn, that dude could make anything sound sincere. Sammy was way better, of course; Cas's sincerity came with a bit of formal awkwardness. Sam could convince you to go get him the moon.

Right now Dean knew exactly who was knocking at his door and he could barely contain his happiness. Even so, he tucked his gun into his waistband and peeped between the window curtains before opening the door, only to find himself with an armful of his husband.

"Cas," he whispered, breathing in that citrus shampoo Cas loved, and sweat and blood and when they were separated, reached to cup Cas's face to connect lips with him.

The kiss was long and desperate. Cas's fingers were curled into Dean's jacket, lips sucking and nipping at Dean's and Dean gripped his hair, participating with all the zeal he had. He wanted to rip these stupid clothes off Cas and kiss him more and God, it had been a terrible couple of days. But he controlled himself and broke away, cupping Cas's cheeks and smiling. "Hey."

Cas smiled back. "Hello, Dean."

Dean felt everything in and around him settle down into a peaceful rhythm at just those two words. Cas turned in Dean's grip and gestured to an old car he seemed to have stolen. "Sam is asleep," he said. "We either need to wake him up or carry him out."

"How's he doing?"

"He's fine, but he's tired."

"He eating?"

"Yes, we have been making sure he eats."

"I'll take Sam in," said Dean. "You rest." He'd been longing to see his brother, too. He couldn't feel guilty enough for leaving Sammy like that only to Cas and not being there for him, but he'd really had to track down those fuckers. The fact that he'd gotten to kill them was the only thing stopping him from tearing himself apart over this.

"We have a guest," Cas supplied, breaking through Dean's thoughts.

He narrowed his eyes at his husband. "Who?

When he said it, an utterly miserable-looking man stepped out of the car from the driver's seat. He was in dirty scrubs, hair askew and eyes slightly mad. Dean recognised him from the news. That missing doctor. He grinned. "Enjoying yourself there, buddy boy?"

"Why can't you just let me go?" the guy asked, and Dean turned back to Cas.

"Why didn't you get rid of him?" he asked in a low voice. "He's all over the news, dude."

"I needed him for Sam," said Cas. "He's a doctor and he can help. Since we're all hiding, he can just hide with us."

Dean nodded. This was a good idea. He gestured to the resident. "Come on in," he said. "I got plenty of—"

"Let me go," the guy repeated.

Dean reached for the gun in his waistband. "Just do as we say."

"No!"

"No?"

"N-No, screw you! I'm leaving! What will you d-do?" The man took off in the opposite direction, into the woods, and Dean pulled the gun out, shooting a bullet at him. It hit the doctor's back but he kept running and Dean moved forward to shoot another, and another, and another, until he was down.

Dean pocketed his gun. He nodded at Cas and started walking towards the doctor, husband by his side, only to find the resident lying a few yards away, bleeding on the leafy ground. Dean didn't really have to check his pulse to know that he was dead. He rolled his eyes. "Did he really think this wouldn't happen?"

"He might have had some hopes that it wouldn't," Cas replied.

"Clearly." Dean was exasperated. Today was a good day.

He put his arm around Cas. "Let's get Sammy settled in and deal with the body. Then we can take a shower together."

"You are really not subtle, Dean."

"What, and you are? What did you do to Henriksen?"

"Incinerator."

"And you cut him up."

"How did you know?"

"I watch the news, dumbass. It's fun. Do you wanna bet how long they take to guess why you were in the OR? I win and we can fuck, and if you win, we can still fuck."

"In that case, I made sure the instruments were replaced. Until they realise Henriksen is dead, they will never know."

"Good, that means we get to fuck."

"Dean."

"What? You're hot and I missed you."

"Wait." Cas stopped in his tracks, squinting at Dean. "Are you limping?"

Dean sighed. "A little. Bastard clipped me in the thigh. I took care of it."

"Dean, did you—?"

"I cleaned it. Several times. Okay?"

Cas nodded as he stared ahead, forlorn. "It just worried me."

Dean pulled him close. "I know," he said. "But I'm good. And we'll figure out how to deal with this. Okay?"

"Okay."

They headed back to the car together, and though Dean was well aware that everything was still very fucked up for his family, today was a fucking awesome day and he was going to be happy as all hell.

~o~

Dean joined Cas in the shower just like he'd promised. Despite his exasperation at Dean, Cas couldn't complain and he melted into Dean's arms. Fingers slid over his naked body and hands held him tight like he knew they forever would. He quivered with each touch, relaxing in the white noise of Dean's lips slurping at his wet skin and then reciprocated, kissing all of Dean, touching him and gripping him, hearing him sigh and moan.

The water was warm, flowing over their bodies, little rivers getting caught between them. Dean grabbed a bar of soap, kisses followed by lathering, and Cas leaned against the wall; every breath a shudder. His husband's hands, his lips, working slowly in sync, was tantalising, making his nerve endings crackle. He'd yearned to feel this way ever since Dean had left; yearned to touch Dean and let his husband run his hands over him like he always did. So he complied, let Dean do it, and cherished every moment of it, only to find Dean on his knees a few minutes later when he felt a teasing flick of Dean's tongue.

Cas clenched his jaw, fingers burying themselves in Dean's hair to feel another flick of his tongue, sending ripples through his nerves. He hissed. Dean gave a throaty, rumbling chuckle and it wasn't just the tongue anymore. Cas's eyes flew open, jaw dropping, hips thrusting forward. It was too much… he was… oh, Dean… DeanohgohohgodDean

Cas grunted. Dean didn't stop. Cas thrust again and moaned. "Dean…"

Dean gave him a fitting reply to that. Cas's nerves jolted, blood filling his capillaries, every cell inside of him screaming for more. Dean let him peak, cruel, devious—ohwhy—he was letting go and Cas wanted to complain, complain so hard… but… Dean was up on his feet, that sparkle in his eye and a grin on his wet lips. He turned Cas around; pushed him against the wall, and braced his wrists against tile.

Cas took a sharp breath.

"God, Cas," Dean muttered, hand coming forward to hold him. Cas's whole body shook. His senses crackled, ears buzzed at Dean's lips and fingers, kissing him, dabbing lube, and it was all in a hurry, a hurry because Cas couldn't take it anymore and he knew that Dean couldn't, either. He couldn't stop himself from crying out when Dean pressed against him. "Oh!"

"You like that?" Dean whispered, pushing against him again, hissing in his own ecstasy. Cas gasped and rested his cheek against the wall.

"P-Please."

Dean chuckled shakily and thrust again, giving in to Cas's pleading, letting him beg for more and more, over and over. Cas had his eyes shut, his senses working overtime. They grunted and moaned and gasped in unison, bodies moving together in the serene music of dripping water until the world around them exploded in sparks of ecstasy; until every bit of energy and tension built up inside them over the last few days burst forth, leaving them calling each other's names.

When they finished and dressed together, Cas caressed Dean's face lovingly as he buttoned his husband's shirt and let Dean kiss him again, realising that nothing could compare to the happiness of being with family. The world around them might be literally burning, but Cas was at peace with everything right now.

~o~

Sam was running a slight fever towards the evening. He could tell from that warm, slight discomfort in his body that it wasn't a bad fever, but he still didn't want Dean worrying about it. His wound had been slightly red and itchy since last night; Warner had asked him to keep up on the antibiotics, warning him of an impending infection, and Sam did. However, Cas had gone to take a leak when Warner discovered it and Sam had made him stay silent about it. He didn't want Dean and Cas worrying about it. Today the itching was still there, a little worse, but he was going to take another dose of antibiotics after dinner and he was sure it would be fine.

He was up and coherent now; much to Dean and Cas's happiness, but the pain was too much to take sometimes. Both Dean and Cas were aware of Sam's rules of always wanting to be in his senses (he really hated that he'd been so out of it for the major part of three days). Sam did not take pain medication, and neither his brother nor his brother-in-law forced it upon him.

Dean wasn't quite so understanding about food, though.

"You gotta eat," he said like an old granny, ladling soup into a bowl and bringing it to Sam on a tray.

Sam glared at him and shook his head. "You eat."

"Don't bitchface me, Sammy, and just eat the fucking soup or I'll feed it to you."

"You can't do that."

"Watch me." Dean turned to the kitchen. "Cas, can you bring a bib for my giant toddler?"

"I'm not your toddler. You're my brother, not my mom."

"Yeah, I think I noticed when I didn't get pregnant with you."

"Is that supposed to be funny?"

"Whatever, Sam." Dean was not impressed. "Eat."

"Fine."

"Take it."

Sam reached for the tray with shaky hands and Dean helped him put it on his lap. It was chicken noodle soup that was reconstituted from a can and Sam was almost nauseated at the sight and colour. In the meantime, Dean got up from his chair. "I'll be back," he said. "Tell me if you want toast with that."

"No, thanks, Mom."

Dean flipped him off as he walked away to make his lasagne. He had spoken about how he'd stolen enough supplies from a Gas N' Sip in town to last them a lifetime; Sam doubted it really would, but he was grateful for it all the same.

Later on when they all sat quietly, enjoying the silence of each other's company and soaking in the warmth of a fire, Sam brought up the question that he needed an answer to. "So what made you do this stupid thing?" he asked Dean.

Dean's eyes flicked over to him. "Excuse me?"

"You know you were stupid, right?" Sam nodded at Cas, too. "Both of you."

Dean sighed. "And here I was, wondering how come our prince was so happy."

"Dean," Sam stopped him quietly.

Dean sighed. "What do I say, man? Those bastards shot you. They don't get to shoot you."

"So?"

"I lost my shit, okay? And Cas did what he had to, to save all our asses."

Sam shook his head. "You two shouldn't have done it."

"Well, we already did it. Just now in the shower, too."

"Shut up."

Dean straightened. "Sam—"

"I warned you last year."

Dean looked him squarely in the eye. "Look, it was getting fucking boring, okay?"

"Boring?" Sam huffed out a breath. "So it's okay to not be safe at all?"

"We were safe," said Dean. "Until last year, no one even knew of it. I mean, sure, I loved murdering each one of those douchebags, but no one cared. Now," he snorted, "I have a cool serial killer name."

"Yeah, and the FBI is on your ass."

"Look, Sam, someone framed us. You know we didn't kill that dude at Yankton, or even the fella who died two days before Henriksen showed his ugly face. That wasn't us. And I'm sure it's the Brady family now."

"And you were sure it was them when they shot me?"

"I didn't know who the fuck they were until I shot them, Sam." He leaned forward. "Seriously. Why are they trying to kill you?"

Sam pressed his lips together. "Why do you think, Dean?"

"It was a fucking accident. There was no way Cas or I were involved in Brady's death. And I hated him, I know. We were even in town that day, but he was dead by the time—"

"Yeah. I know. You don't have to explain it to me."

Dean huffed in annoyance. "Assholes." He checked his watch. "Anyway, bedtime for you. Don't want that fever to get worse."

Dean hadn't even checked Sam's temperature or felt his forehead. Sam blinked at his brother and watched Dean shrug. "Ain't nothing you can hide from me, little brother." He pursed his lips. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You worry."

"So if you're hurt, have had surgery, and are running a fever, I shouldn't worry? This doesn't mean you could have a goddamned infection?"

Sam sighed. "Dean. Relax, man. If it were so bad I wouldn't be sitting up talking to you. I asked Warner about it and he said it's normal. Just told me to keep taking the antibiotics."

"You sure?"

Sam threw him a disapproving look.

"Again. Don't bitchface me," Dean demanded. "Are you good?"

"Yeah. Will you stop worrying about me now?"

"I'm sorry. Have you met me?"

Sam snorted. "You're a freak."

"A murdering freak. Thank you."

"You're really proud of it, aren't you?"

"I help get rid of some real bottom-dwelling scum. That Jack dude back in our town? He was a paedo. If his girlfriend knew, she'd be celebrating, too."

"Yes, I know, Dean." Sam smiled mildly. Dean, however, didn't smile back.

"I ruined it for you, too, didn't I?"

"No, you didn't, jerk," said Sam. "Now sing me a fucking song." He adjusted his bedding and lay back down slowly, ignoring the smarting of his wound.

"Sammy—"

Sam rolled around and buried his face in his pillow. "You're my big brother. 'M not ashamed of you." There was silence. Sam emerged from a face-full of fluff and blinked at his brother. "Are you gonna sing?"

"I don't have the guitar."

"I don't care."

There was another long pause, and then a hand on Sam's head, just resting there lightly. "Thanks, Sammy."

Sam smiled once again and let himself drift away into sleep as Dean started to sing Sweet Child O' Mine, his serene voice defeating the dank silence of the cabin.

~o~

Dean jolted awake from his sleep. At first, he wasn't sure what woke him up. Cas was wound tightly around him, holding him under their blanket. It was a cool night and Cas's warmth poured into Dean, almost completely comforting him. However, he couldn't ignore that weird sensation in his stomach that something was wrong.

As if in answer, Dean heard a groan from the other bed. It was Sam. Untangling himself from Cas immediately, Dean sat up, rubbing at his eyes. "Sammy?"

Beside him, Cas shifted. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know." Dean started climbing off the bed as Cas sat up after him, still a little disoriented with sleep. Dean was crossing the room to Sam's bed. Nightmares were not new to Sam, but something felt out of place here. He was switching on the lights and by Sam's side the next moment, only to see him covered in sweat and squirming underneath his blankets.

Definitely a nightmare. Dean reached for Sam's shoulder. "Sam?" However, he withdrew his hand immediately, hissing. "Shit!" Sam was warm. Very warm; heat seeping even though his clothes.

"What happened?" Cas dragged himself out of bed and was padding towards Dean. Dean turned around to his husband, the worry spreading throughout his features.

"He has a fever."

Cas came forward, felt Sam's forehead, and took his hand off immediately. "That's a high fever."

"Ya think?" Dean ran a hand through his hair. "Get me the Tylenol and some water."

Cas nodded once, unquestioning, and went to locate the items. Dean shook his brother awake, the heat really worrying him. "Sam. Come on, wake up."

Sam's eyes opened but only slightly, his breaths gasping and more sweat pouring down his face. Beside Dean, Cas emerged with a washcloth soaked in a bowl of water and Tylenol in each hand, with the drinking water bottle tucked under his arm. He set the items down carefully.

"Thanks," Dean told him, wringing the washcloth as he placed it on Sam's forehead. Sam moved a little but didn't react, and Dean palmed his brother's damp hair. "Hey," he said, speaking quietly. "Wake up. Come on."

Sam didn't do that.

"Check his wound," Cas supplied from the background. Dean did as he said, pulling down the blankets and lifting Sam's tee. His brother groaned softly but Dean didn't pay attention, instead peeling back the bandages slowly, dreading what he'd see underneath. When he peeled it back, he had to stop for a bit, his other hand going to his mouth in surprise.

"Fuck!"

"What is it?!" Cas leaned closer to have a look, and when he did, he gasped, too. The wound was swollen, almost looking like it had blistered, and was red: it was very infected. Reluctantly, Dean went to touch it, squeeze it for pus, and when he did, white liquid oozed out slowly, making his breath catch in his throat.

"Fuck, Cas, get me those hospital supplies, would you?"

Cas was off before he could finish the sentence, and Dean leaned in further, poking around the warm skin surrounding Sam's wound. Sam moaned.

"Hey, hey," Dean muttered, looking at his brother. "It's all right, now, we'll fix this, we'll fix this." He wasn't even sure what he was blabbering, and if he could fix it. He only knew that he couldn't let Sam die. He squeezed his brother's forearm. "Nothing's gonna happen to you while I'm around," he told Sam, and even though Sam couldn't hear that, it was a promise Dean made to himself and his brother.

Meanwhile, Cas was back with new materials for Sam's wound. "I'll take care of this," he told Dean. "Just wake him up and try to get him to take the medicine."

"Okay." Dean shifted to Sam's head and removed the washcloth to wet it again. Once he'd replaced it, he shook Sam again. "Hey." Sam didn't move. Biting his lip, Dean leaned closer to his brother. "Okay. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but—" He went ahead, rubbing his knuckles against Sam's sternum.

Sam gasped, eyes opening, and Dean stopped. Cas had adorned a pair of gloves and he paused in his work to look up. "Is he awake?"

"Yeah, yeah. Sammy!"

Sam's mouth opened and shut, eyes reflecting a world of pain that wrung out Dean's heart. "Take it easy," he whispered, "it's just us. What's happening?"

Sam swallowed a couple of times. "D'n."

"Yeah." Dean shook the bottle of Tylenol. "You need some meds, okay? Why didn't you tell us it was this bad?"

Sam's face drained of colour. "N-No."

"Come on," Dean coaxed him. "Please? Just Tylenol."

Sam seemed to ponder it. Then, very reluctantly, he opened his mouth.

"Atta boy," Dean praised him, dropping two pills into his palm and opening the water bottle. He hauled Sam up with one arm so he wouldn't choke and then pushed the pills into his mouth, one by one. Next, he held the water bottle to Sam's mouth. Sam gulped down the medicine, throat working weakly, and by the time Dean had laid him back down his eyes were slits again, rolling up as he slid back into either sleep or unconsciousness—Dean dreaded to figure out which. He sat back and watched Cas finish cleaning Sam's wound; methodically with a lot of care, and then finally, the new bandages were applied.

Once Cas had cleaned up, he joined Dean on the floor next to Sam's bed. There were no words needed when Cas pulled him into his arms and Dean just gave in, never having felt this helpless his entire life.

~o~

Dean's hopes for Sam's miraculously getting better were shattered when an hour later, he heard an ominous choking sound coming from his brother's bed. He'd just changed Sam's washcloth and gotten back under the blanket that he and Cas were sharing when it happened. Liquid started spilling from the corners of Sam's mouth, even though he was still unconscious.

"FUCK!"

Dean was at his brother's side in a second, turning him over, vomit splashing onto the floor. Sam opened his eyes just at that moment, scrambling and failing to sit up as he retched up his dinner right onto Dean.

"Okay," Dean said, not caring about the gross stuff he was now covered in. "Just… do what you gotta." Beside him, Cas had hurriedly emptied a plastic bag of the medicines and handed it over, which Dean helped Sam hold. The puking sounded and looked painful and Dean just sat there with a hand on his brother's shoulder, hating that he wasn't able to do anything else. When Sam was done, Cas handed Dean another washcloth so he could shakily wipe Sam's face.

Sam looked plain mortified and confused.

"D-Dean…"

"Don't worry about it," Dean told his brother, taking his stained pillow and shucking it aside. He pulled another pillow from the bunk over Sam's and put it down. "Sleep on your side," he said, helping Sam get into position. He drew his fingers through Sam's sweaty hair. "Me and Cas are right here. If you feel bad again, just tell us okay?" Sam nodded tiredly as Dean covered him up. He changed the washcloth on Sam's forehead, watching clear water droplets run down as he wrung it out, disappointed that Sam wasn't feeling better. By the time he had gone and taken a shower and changed into cleaner clothes, Cas had taken Sam's temperature again.

It had barely budged.

Dejected, Dean got back into his corner with Cas, underneath their blanket, thinking. He leaned against the old wooden walls, attempting to keep his head clear. There had been something on his mind the moment he'd realised what was wrong with Sam. He wasn't prepared to face it yet, but if he didn't do it now, he never would and he didn't have much time to wait and gather any more courage for this. He had put Sam and Cas in imminent danger. If it came to that, he needed to fix it. And right now, it looked like it had come to that.

He tilted into Cas, trying hard to toughen up, and Cas registered the next moment that something was going on.

"Dean?"

"I think Sam needs a hospital."

Cas got alert. "What?"

"If we don't get him to a hospital, he'll die." Dean swallowed. "Listen, I have a plan—"

"Dean. Don't…"

"If that's how Sam's gonna live, then I don't care," said Dean.

"That is not a good idea, what you're thinking right now."

Dean scoffed. "You got something better there, cowboy?"

"We should think for a bit."

"And let Sam die?"

"No, no—"

"Then tell me quickly because we're running out of time here, man." Dean was tired, desperate, and he knew they had no other choice. If Cas had a better idea he was all ears.

His husband thought about it for a moment. "I… we could, perhaps drop Sam off—"

"I ain't leaving my brother alone," said Dean. "I can't, Cas, look at him."

"He is the only one out of us who is not wanted for a crime," Cas told him. "The other option is to surrender."

"Not doing that, man," said Dean. "We haven't been doing this years to be taken down by some lowlifes who shot at my brother. Dead lowlifes."

"We are running out of options then, Dean," said Cas.

"Not really," Dean replied, "You know there's still one way."

Cas took a long time to reply to that as he grasped on to what Dean said, remorse decorating his face as he looked at Dean. "No."

"Cas, don't make this difficult."

"Dean."

He sighed, fingering Cas's chin. "Please? Just. Just this once. Just listen. You know there's no other way. Sammy can't die… not like this. I—" His voice caught in his throat, the very aspect of anything even remotely close to Sam's death threatening to overwhelm him. He hadn't felt this helpless, this cornered in a long time but if this was what he had to give up to keep Sam and Cas safe, he would.

"I can't lose Sam," Dean pushed, when Cas didn't reply. "I can't lose him. You know that."

"Dean…"

"Please…"

All that came out this time was a whisper. Dean blinked and took a steadying breath.

It took a few moments for him to feel Cas shift beside him, and then the hand on his shoulder. When he looked up, Cas looked morose and in no mood to comply, but then he did. "I understand," he said at long last.

"I knew you would." Dean gave him the biggest smile he could muster. "Just please help me."

Cas sighed, leaning forward and kissing Dean's mouth. "Have I ever refused?"

Dean chuckled in return and rested his forehead against Cas's as he narrated his plan, drinking in every moment of whatever he shared with his husband because he had a nagging feeling they wouldn't see each other for a long time.

When morning came and Sam's condition had barely changed, Dean helped pack Cas and Sam's things. "I need to destroy this one anyway," he said, pointing to his temporary phone that he'd nicked from a shop. "Call me once you and Sam are safe and I'll destroy it."

"Sam is not safe with me."

"Better you than me," Dean replied. "Come on, man, we agreed to that."

Cas nodded, eyes flicking to the floor. "Yes, we did."

"You know the story, right? You never knew it was me, and when you did, you thought I could change. Tell them about all those previous idiots we killed so they believe you."

"I cannot do that to you. I told you."

"Yes, and we talked about it. So shut up and get a good life, Cas. You and Sam. They're after my ass, Sammy needs help, just take this opportunity."

"Dean…"

Dean moved to grab his husband's shoulder. "It's okay. I won't hold it against you. And I owe it to you guys for dragging you into this shit."

"Don't blame yourself."

"Of course I'm blaming myself," Dean scoffed. "If I'd just waited for Sam to tell me who those assholes were, I could've killed them better."

"Henriksen would still suspect us."

"Yeah, but he could never prove shit until he saw me, so who gives a fuck?" Dean's heart sank, the ramifications of his actions getting clearer and clearer as time passed.

Cas looked like his entire world was falling apart. "I cannot enjoy a safe life knowing the FBI is after you."

"But I want you to have that life." Dean forced Cas to look into his eyes. "I want you to have it, okay? Just do this much for me."

A bird chirped somewhere outside the cabin. Cas swallowed. "All right. For you. And for Sam, because Sam deserves a good life."

"Damn right, he does." Dean touched Cas's cheek. "And so do you. I don't want this bullshit taking away from what you should have."

His husband nodded and took a deep breath. "So I kidnapped Henriksen?"

"Yep. For me."

Cas smiled ever so slightly. "Kidnapping is still an offense, Dean."

"You were desperate," said Dean. "And you were ridiculously in love with me, so when I asked you to bring Henriksen along, you couldn't say no. You've never said no to your sexy-ass husband."

"I am not sure that sounds very good."

"Come on, Cas," pleaded Dean. "You know I'd put Sammy up to the job if I could. Plus, those idiots at the OR even bought that exact story the other day."

Cas looked down. "I said that because it was true. I wanted to be here with you, or have you there with me."

There was a moment of silence. Dean took two steps forward and grabbed Cas, leaning over to kiss him. Cas in his arms was so comforting, so familiar, he didn't want to let go. He sank into his husband's embrace, letting Cas's tongue explore him and he just wanted to melt into this world of bliss; to forget everything…

So they didn't let go. They didn't separate until they needed to breathe. Until they realised that they had to pull apart, or that they never would.

~o~

Dean packed food for Sam and Cas. He made pancakes, talking the whole time. "Sammy loves these," he said. "Wake him up and feed it to him. I've put the bucket in the backseat just in case. Don't drive too rashly… kid could get sick again. And you know which meds to give him, right? I—"

Cas shut him up by hugging him from behind. "I love you," he said, and when Dean took his hand and squeezed it, he knew Dean was saying it back.

They tucked Sam into the backseat of a car that Dean stole, and Cas watched Dean handle his brother with an extreme gentleness that would make people question if he were really a murderer.

They did not kiss again, or even hug. They didn't want to touch each other again, for fear of not letting go. When Cas pulled out of the cabin, he kept watching Dean in the rearview mirror, heart heavy and aching, and when Dean was gone, the loneliness that filled him was unbearable.

He drove for a few hours with a few stops, first to wake Sam up for breakfast and medicine, and then having to deal with Sam not keeping any of that down. When Cas had taken them far enough from Dean, he found a payphone and made the call.

"Hello, Dean."

"Cas." Dean's voice lit up like a thousand Christmas lights.

"I am going to be calling an ambulance now."

"Okay." Dean's breath rustled over the phone. "Good luck."

"Thank you, Dean. Take care." Cas cut the call, took a deep inhale, and then dialled 911.

"I need an ambulance," he told the operator. "My brother-in-law has an infected wound and is running a very high fever." Once the operator told him there was an ambulance being dispatched to his location Cas got back into the car. Then he rested his forehead on the steering wheel, waiting for everything to change.

"For Dean," he whispered to himself when he heard the sirens approaching ten minutes later.

o

-Then-

Seven months in, Cas started writing to Dean. Dean was annoyed at first. He'd asked Cas to call, not write. Nonetheless after a bit, Dean learned to stop minding it. It became something that belonged to him and Cas, like a secret, like their thing, and Dean decided he'd rather keep it.

Cas wrote every week. They were long, beautiful letters and cheesy as all hell but Dean loved the fuck out of them. He even responded, not in so many words, but he tried. He hoped Cas would know what he felt. He kept the letters safe, in a box under his bed. Sam knew he had them, but apart from the occasional teasing he didn't say much. He was well aware that Cas wasn't like the others for Dean. He would help Dean reply sometimes, too. Listen to Dean go on about Cas and be there for him.

Cas finally had enough money from a new, better-paying job to visit Dean a year later. Dean was teasing him now, that he was way past nineteen and perfectly legal, but he wasn't sure if Cas had feelings for him. Sam said it was obvious from the letters but Dean always thought; what if Cas was a clueless bastard? What if he wanted to be friends but just wrote well?

There was another hurdle. Dean wasn't sure if Bobby even knew he was gay. Or, that Sam wasn't straight, either (Sam wasn't gay and Dean only needed to know Sam was his brother and that he was happy and safe and the rest was up to Sam). They knew Bobby wouldn't say much but they didn't want to take chances for Cas's first time around. So Dean made sure with Sam that Bobby was not home when they invited Cas over to the house.

Dean dressed carefully and checked his watch every five minutes. "Quit it, Dean," Sam muttered, tapping Dean's knee as they sat on the couch, Sam bent over homework. "You're shaking me, too."

"Dude, what if—?"

"He just called, he'll take a bit."

"What if he thinks I'm a fucking weirdo or some shit, man?"

"That wouldn't be wrong," Sam said, bored, as he scribbled something into his workbook.

Dean snorted. He didn't know why, but that had made him feel a lot better. "Bitch," he said, snorting to himself.

"Jerk," was Sam's prompt reply, just as there was a knock at the door.

Dean shot up from his seat. "Shit."

Sam put his pen down as he stood up to clap Dean on the back. "Go for it."

Dean clenched his jaw and nodded. He took a deep breath, strode to the door, and when he opened it…

… There was Cas, as gorgeous as ever, hair slightly askew from travelling, blue eyes on Dean, mouth slightly ajar.

God, he looked hot.

It didn't take more than a second for Dean to close the distance between them and kiss Cas straight on the lips.

It was like a part of his brain was opening up. Cas took a moment to respond but then he kissed Dean back, their lips working against each other, tongues flicking, Dean's hands running up and down Cas's spine. He couldn't take it anymore. He wanted this and more. He wanted all of Cas, and fuck, fuck, this felt so good…

Sam coughed in the background and Dean snapped back to reality. He jumped away from Cas, scratching his head when he turned around, only to see his brother gather all the homework material from the table. "Hey, Cas," he said, nodding.

Cas smiled at him. "Hello, Sam. You look taller than you did in the pictures Dean sent. Are you doing well?"

"Yeah." Sam cleared his throat. "I guess I hit that growth spurt. I'll be in my room." He trotted to the staircase, taking two steps at a time, his neck flushed. Dean stared after his brother before he looked back to Cas.

"Come on."

He took Cas's hand and led him to the salvage yard, stopping to kiss him every few seconds until he couldn't control it, until every part of him tingled, his body and senses on fire, and he crawled after Cas into one of Bobby's old trucks to pull the clothes off him and fuck him until they were screaming each other's names.

They lay there a while after, naked, and Dean had never been held like this before. Never been cuddled. He hated it, he hated mushy love but Cas was so, so different and he just wanted to be in his arms forever, in this safety and warmth he'd never felt before.

Later, saying goodbye to Cas was hard but Dean went to visit him at his motel room and fucked him in the shower and against the wall and on the floor and the bed. He could never have enough of Cas's lips on him, or his hands touching him and enticing him and the way Cas said his name and his eyes and the fucking cuddling and talking. Cas was so fucking sexy, so considerate, so amazing, Dean could never have enough of anything when it came to Cas. Hell, he couldn't fucking imagine having his clothes on with Cas in the vicinity.

Cas came to visit a lot after that, and even if he did it often, the intervals in between were full of longing and hunger and they'd never be able to keep their hands off each other; never run out of things to talk about. When Dean couldn't take it anymore, when he was annoyed at Cas's exams or his damned assignments keeping him away, he decided he needed to start visiting Cas, too. And keeping Bobby away from the house for a bit, sneaking out to meet Cas sometimes was one thing, but to travel to Wichita, where Cas lived and went to college, was not something he could pull off without Bobby noticing.

After days of trying to gain courage, he finally spoke to Bobby.

"Bobby, uh…" Dean looked up from the tyre he was fixing as Bobby worked on the bumper. "I got something to tell you."

Bobby wiped sweat off his forehead on the sleeve of his overalls. "Is this about that boy you been hangin' out with?"

Dean blinked. Okay, that was unexpected. "How did you…?"

"Known for a bit now. Pretty obvious, if you ask me. You and Sam both."

"Sam?"

"Saw the kid makin' out with someone behind the old post office the other day. Seen him there with girls a lot, but there've been boys, too."

"Yeah, yeah, he—"

"I'll wait for him to talk when he feels like. Or not." Bobby narrowed his eyes. "What kind of a fool are ya boys takin' me for, huh?"

Dean blushed. "It wasn't like that. You know Dad…"

"Your daddy was an idiot. I ain't."

That statement made Dean chuckle. Of course not.

"And Dean?" Bobby interrupted his thoughts. "Ya bang boys in my old truck and leave it like you did last time, you're scrubbing it out yourself, and the toilet for a month."

Dean swallowed. "Got it. Sorry."

Their lives were great after that. Their lives were beautiful and stable and comfortable until, one night, Bobby got mugged and shot in the head. That night when Bobby breathed his last in front of Dean, he vowed to find the killer.

It was some local guy who'd wanted money desperately but Dean didn't spare him. He had Cas by his side as they cut him, watching his blood make rivers. Just like Cas had been when they'd buried Bobby. This was different from burying Bobby, though. Dean hadn't felt so happy doing something for ages now.

They made a pact. That they'd always keep themselves excited like this. Happy. After avenging Bobby, Dean avenged countless others, Cas by his side. They hunted every three months. They travelled, stalked, preyed upon scumbags, every asshole they killed either bearing John's face or the professor's grin, or the mug of Bobby's murderer. Dean had promised to erase them all and have fun while doing it, and it just got amazing with Cas at his side. Life never lost its charm when he had Cas with him.