Returning to humanity is waking up and dying all at once. Dean's throat is raw from screaming; he can taste blood and his eyes sting and ache. The vile, furious thoughts are still rattling around in his head from when he was snarling them at his brother just minutes beforehand, but they feel foreign now, as though someone else put them there. His body feels like a ruin and he's not even sure what emotion is twisting his gut, but it's not pleasant.
Opening his eyes, he meets Sam's red-rimmed gaze. The poor kid looks like he belongs in intensive care, pale and shaking and gaunt. The arm sling doesn't help the picture. Dean belatedly realises that the handcuffs are gone and he's wearing a matching sling; he vaguely remembers Sam injecting him with morphine, within the past hour, which would explain the dulled pain of his injured shoulder. The sling must have been done whilst he was delirious from the final injection.
"Sammy?" Dean whispers, his voice a pitiful rasp. Sam half-sobs in relief and then fumbles behind him without looking. He grabs a cup and jerks it toward Dean, who blinks in surprise as the holy water splashes across his face. It doesn't burn at all and Sam gives a small, hysterical laugh, stumbling across the devil's trap and falling to his knees before his brother. He grabs his good shoulder, shaking him slightly.
"You're back," he whispers, tears in his hazel eyes, joy in his smile. "I got you back."
Dean breaks into a weak grin, truly glad to be reunited, but the smile drops a moment later as Sam continues to speak.
"Well, we got you back. Me and Cas."
Dean's head spins at the name and the memories crash into him. The casino. The handcuffs. All the cruel words and everything that happened... No, no, no, what has he done?
"Cas," he whispers, stricken. The guilt and shame and horror rise like bile in his throat and he closes his eyes, unable to face Sam. His baby brother, who's had to stand in this room and listen to details of brutal killings and torture, who's had to cringe throughout stories of debauchery and scandalous sexual acts, and who's had to hear all the sick, smug things Dean could spew out about Castiel. Their closest ally, their best friend, their family. How has he screwed up this badly?
Sam's heart clenches at the agony on his brother's face. What a mess. He reaches out and curls a hand around Dean's neck, rubbing his thumb comfortingly through the sweat-damp hair, trying to let him know that he's not alone.
"Dean, it's OK-"
"Don't fucking tell me it's OK!"
Dean's voice is ragged; a tear rolls down his cheek. Sam sighs and tries again.
"Cas is fine. I mean, upset and stuff, but you didn't hurt him and he doesn't hate you. He's in your room, he's been resting. He's even agreed to become human again to survive the grace fading."
Despite himself, Dean clings to these words. Cas hasn't left, and he's going to live. Maybe he might forgive Dean, not that Dean deserves it. He opens his eyes and looks uncertainly at his brother.
"But what I did. The way I did it. I don't know if he even... I mean, I cuffed him to the damn wall!"
Sam shifts, clearly deeply uncomfortable with the subject, but determined to help fix the situation. He drops his hand to his lap and looks away, clearing his throat.
"Dean, if this is a consent issue, it's pretty shady but I think... I think Cas would have fought a bit harder. If he'd wanted to fight. He told me that he thinks you'd have stopped if he'd said to, if that helps."
Dean shakes his head, although his stomach loosens a little at these words. "I don't know if I would have. I was a fucking scumbag as a demon."
Sam gives a small, humourless laugh. "Yeah."
They stare at each other for a moment before Dean drops his gaze. "I'm sorry, Sammy. I've put you through a hell of a lot with this demon crap, and you had to hear all the nasty details... I'm so sorry."
The younger Winchester sighs again and stands, grabbing Dean's uninjured arm and pulling him to his feet.
"It's OK, man. That's over now. You're human again."
"Yeah, which basically just means I'm suddenly aware of how much I've fucked up," growls Dean, rolling his stabbed shoulder and wincing. He sways, bones aching, and stares at the doorway.
"He's definitely still here?"
"Last I checked," says Sam quietly, watching his brother. He debates for a moment whether he should say anything, but then decides that he's held his tongue for too long; the situation has changed now. He shuffles closer to Dean, heart thumping with nerves.
"Dean, you said while you were... well, you said that you've known for a long time how Cas... feels about you. I know we never discussed it - like, at all - but I've known too. For years."
He pauses. Dean was looking at him but now he's frowning at the floor, mouth a tight line. His fist is clenched by his side. Sam presses on.
"That's why I'm not surprised that he didn't say no to you. Even as a demon. I guess Cas is just... well, you're kinda his weakness, that's pretty well known."
"Don't you think I feel shitty enough for using that against him?" Dean bursts out, finally looking up, verdant eyes ablaze. "I mocked him about it, Sam. Jesus Christ-"
His voice breaks and he drops his head down again, eyes closed and breathing hard. Sam is quiet for a moment before speaking.
"I know. It sucks. What you did sucks. But that's not my point. Dean, you... you seduced him. You did that, demon or not. You told me straight, not two hours ago, that you've been wanting to do that for years. That you've just never acknowledged it."
He pauses again. His brother is staring at him, alarmed; no, terrified. He opens his mouth, stepping back, but no sound comes out. Sam is pretty terrified himself - this is not a conversation he feels remotely comfortable with - but he's started now and he has to finish.
"The thing is... I've known that for years too. You and Cas have never been just friends. And that's OK, I was never going to interfere, because I knew you cared about him too much to lead him on or screw him around. It was either going to happen or not happen and it was none of my business." He stops for a moment; Dean looks like he might pass out. "But now this has happened. Dean, you can't go back to pretending you see him the way you see me. You can't do that to him. Be with him or don't be with him, but be honest. With yourself, too."
He finishes in a rush, feeling absurd but relieved to have finally pushed the subject out into the open. His brother's expression is hard to read but Sam braces himself in case he gets punched. Instead, to his shock, Dean turns away, running his shaking hand through his hair, staring blankly at the wall. He takes a deep, shuddering breath before replying in a low voice.
"I don't know if I can do that, Sammy."
Sam feels a sudden rush of annoyance. This idiotic denial has been going on for years. His brother has some serious issues, but this is taking it one step too far. This is just selfish.
"Yeah, well, it's not about you this time," he snaps. "Cas has always bought your crap about brotherhood and pure platonic friendship but now he's got to be questioning it. If you keep treating him like he's the only one who feels the way he does, he's going to assume that what happened between you was just some kind of sick game. Can you imagine how used he must feel? How mortified? You need to let him know that you wanted him too, that it wasn't just because you were a demon using his feelings to hurt him. You owe him that much."
His words ring in the silence after he completes his little speech, surprised at his own anger. But he keeps seeing Cas's tortured eyes, the defeated slump of his shoulders, the weary hoarseness of his voice. Unlike Dean, he really does see the angel as a brother. Sam cannot stand by and watch his family tear itself apart over this when a little honesty could fix the whole thing.
He watches his brother warily, certain that he's going to explode any moment and reject the truth, as always. But Dean is still staring at the wall, trembling and swaying slightly, lips parted and eyes brimming. Sam listens to his shallow breathing and waits, heartbeat loud in his ears. After several beats of silence, Dean blinks away the tears and turns around, exhaling slowly.
"You're right."
Sam's jaw drops. He stands still, watching his brother wipe his eyes on his sleeve and assume a determined expression. He's still speechless as Dean walks past him, clapping him on the shoulder and leaving the room.
"Holy shit," Sam whispers to the empty room, before sitting down heavily in the chair his brother so recently vacated.
Dean walks slowly through the familiar corridors, trying to keep a tight lid on the panic rising up in his throat. He keeps repeating Sam's outburst in his mind. He has to do this, for Cas. Sam's right, he owes the angel the truth. It's just going to be hard knowing how to be honest about this with Cas, because he's never even been honest about it with himself.
He trails his fingers along the wall, remembering all the times he's almost admitted to himself how much the 'nerdy guy in a trench coat' means to him. One of the biggest ones was when he realised that Cas was in love with him. It was hard to ignore the excitement bubbling in his chest, the wonder at this celestial being putting him first above everything else. But ruthless suppression of emotion has always been one of Dean's greatest talents; the hunter decided quickly that he was simply flattered and honoured and that it was best not mentioned.
Purgatory was a huge struggle. The boundaries became more blurred than ever; so much could feasibly be passed off as platonic. Holding each other was for warmth or friendly comfort, long conversations about fears and hopes and dreams were to pass the time, the intense emotions were brought on by the extreme situation and Dean's desperate, all-consuming need to have Cas with him was born of brotherly love.
Never mind that Dean was terrified whenever Benny wandered off too far because he was afraid to be alone with the angel. Never mind the soft kisses Dean would let himself bestow upon Cas's hair when they curled around each other whilst resting, or the way that Cas would wordlessly, shyly twine their fingers together. Never mind that when Dean finally escaped and Cas wasn't with him, he was falling apart, feeling as though he'd spend the rest of his life back in Purgatory just to have his angel again. Sam was all that stopped him from trying
The emotions Dean felt around Cas could be ignored or wilfully misinterpreted, but the attraction was much more difficult. From the first day they met, Dean felt it. Every time Cas came too close, every time he held Dean's gaze, every rare time they touched. He sometimes dreamed about the angel. The dreams weren't explicitly sexual at first, but after a while they were more than enough to make him blush when he woke up.
Dean sat himself down one day and after a long thinking session, he decided that it was probably a normal human reaction to close contact with a being as powerful and charismatic as an angel. With this comforting thought in mind, he allowed his mind to wander even when he was awake sometimes, but always felt unhappy and guilty afterwards. Guilt never stopped it from happening again.
Dean shakes himself out of the memories; he's almost at his door. His heart is racing. He feels ashamed, angry, heartbroken, petrified. What if Sam was wrong? What if Cas despises him, rejects him and never wants to see him again? If he loses Cas now, because of this, it'll be all that he deserves but he can't handle the idea. Pressing his lips together to stop them from shaking, he steps into the doorway.
Cas is lying on the bed, on the side opposite the one Dean uses. His hair is damp and there's an equally damp towel folded neatly under his head. He's staring at the ceiling, face relaxed, hands linked comfortably over his stomach, ankles crossed. He's wearing Dean's clothes, old grey sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt. He's even wearing Dean's socks. Dean exhales and suddenly feels slightly better at the sight.
"Cas."
The angel tenses at the voice, blinks and then sits up, gazing at Dean, blue eyes clear and direct. There's a beat of silence and Dean wonders if he should have given it more time, but then Cas smiles at him. It's a real, genuine grin, almost a laugh, joyful and relieved and loving, and it makes Dean want to cry. What did he do to deserve this creature in his life? That thought is a little too soppy but Dean doesn't really care very much. He smiles too, stepping closer but then stopping. He takes a deep breath.
"Cas, I am so sorry."
Cas's smile fades but his eyes remain warm. He nods.
"I know you are. I'm not angry, Dean."
Dean swallows, looking away but walking slowly over to the bed. He sits down on the opposite corner from Cas before glancing over at him again.
"You should be. What I did..."
He trails off and stares at Cas, eyes haunted with guilt. The angel sighs. His face is sympathetic and kind, but there's something lurking in there, a masked hurt.
"You don't have to explain. You were a demon. I was expecting it to be difficult, capturing you. I just wasn't expecting sex to be your weapon."
He says it calmly and honestly, but that flash of pain is there again, underneath. Dean is taken aback by his words; he can only stare, mouth slightly open. Cas gives the ghost of a smile, small and sad.
"It was a smart strategy, as it turns out. I didn't know..." He finally breaks his gaze, looking down at the blanket. "I didn't know that you knew those things about me. But you always did say that I was a crappy liar. I guess I never tried very hard to hide it anyway."
He looks back up again, eyes gentle. "It's OK, Dean. You don't need to feel responsible or guilty. I don't want that-"
"Stop it," Dean interrupts quietly, holding up his hand, eyes closing. He's suddenly sick of this stupid charade. His best friend is sitting here almost apologising for being in love with him. The whole thing is ludicrous. He opens his eyes and looks at Cas plainly, his voice steady when he speaks.
"Yeah, I've known how you feel about me for ages. And yeah, demon me knew it too. You're not wrong; I used it as a way of manipulating you. But Cas, the things I said about... about my feelings. I wasn't lying." He laughs incredulously, shaking his head. "Hell, I was more honest with you as a demon than I've been as a human. Talk about screwed up. I deserve a fucking prize."
Cas is frozen, staring at him. He opens his mouth and then shuts it, frowning.
"I don't think I understand you correctly," he whispers. Dean groans, turning away and tilting his head back, eyes screwing shut. His shoulder throbs with pain and his head is pounding. He's bottled this up for years, sealing it away under a pile of insecurity and fear and self-image issues, and now that he's trying to drag it out into the light he's going to have to make a fucking speech about it. Great.
Irritability doesn't make him particularly eloquent.
"Cas, I've wanted you since we met, OK?" he says loudly. He turns back around, scowling. "Demon me was just a bit less terrified about it. You're in love with me? Yeah, well, don't feel bad. I'm in love with you too. There, happy?"
He raises his eyebrows at Cas as though expecting some kind of counter argument. The angel gazes back at him, mouth hanging open, fists clenched in his lap. As Dean watches, a wild sort of joy steals into the round blue eyes.
"Yes," he breathes. Dean's scowl melts away and he shifts uncomfortably at Cas's reverent expression.
"No need to look at me like I'm Jesus," he mumbles, flushing but smiling a little. Cas smiles too, but looks puzzled.
"If you're suggesting that I had romantic feelings for Jesus Christ," he says, "You're mistaken. I think you're getting me mixed up with Balthazar."
Dean bursts out laughing and scrambles across the bed, ungainly with one hand, landing on his knees in front of Cas. He sits back on his heels and surveys the angel, feeling nervous but relieved to have finally admitted the secret that's been nagging at him for years. Cas smiles softly up at him, cocking his head curiously.
"I thought you only felt attraction to women?" he asks. Dean frowns. Without meaning to, Cas has poked at a huge part of the reason Dean kept his feelings secret in the first place. He's always been so protective of his heterosexuality; every little flutter of interest in men has always been mercilessly destroyed, and every night spent with a woman has served as another layer of security. He sighs.
"I do mostly only like women," he explains, knowing that he's not ready to think about any other possibility right now. "Women and you."
Cas nods thoughtfully. He shifts onto his knees too, bringing him eye level with Dean. They stare at each other, blue on green, and Dean's breath hitches.
"Dean," says Cas very seriously, "I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but I would like to celebrate our mutual affection by kissing you. Is that alright?"
"Uh," Dean feels like he's slipped into a parallel world, but he quite likes it. "Yeah?"
Cas leans forward and kisses him gently, tenderly, smiling against his lips. Dean smiles too, and they stay like that for a few seconds, smiling on each others' mouths like total idiots. A throat is cleared pointedly and Dean almost falls off the bed as he lurches backwards, twisting around to see his little brother smirking in the doorway. He looks exceedingly smug and triumphant, if still totally exhausted.
"How sweet," he grins. "Mind if I get my camera? It's just, I've got a bet to win..."
"Fuck off," snaps Dean.
"Sure, Sam," says Cas simultaneously. Sam snorts with laughter, backing out of the room and pulling the door shut. Dean turns back to Cas, looking grumpy, but Cas kisses him again, grabbing his free hand and linking their fingers together just like he did in Purgatory. He pulls away, breathless and hopeful.
"Is this how it's going to be now?" he asks, squeezing Dean's fingers.
"Yeah." Dean smiles, wondering what the hell he was ever scared of. This feels easy and natural. He's not just human again; he's finally himself. "Yeah, it is."
THE END
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