Chapter Two: Two Sides, Same Coin

"So," Cas began as soon as he pulled up a chair in front of him for Dean to sit in, "Would you feel comfortable with explaining to me exactly what's been going on with you? Perhaps start with the night of the accident, and we can get into the dreams later."

Dean sighed. "Uh, I guess."

But Cas recognized that tone. "Listen, Dean, I know you don't necessarily wish to be here. I know you're probably here just to please your brother, and that's admirable of you. Please know, though, that I'm here to listen and that anything you say in here won't leave this room. This is between you and me... Well, and God, but I have it on pretty good authority that he won't alert the presses."

Cas paused, laughing at his own joke while Dean chuckled along, mostly to make the priest feel as though his jest had done its job and lightened the mood. "I also want to let you know that I understand what you're going through, Dean, for the most part. My parents also passed away when I was very young. My mother was sick when I was a child, and after a courageous battle with her long-term illnesses, she succumbed to them when I was seven years old. My father had rather a hard time dealing with her death, and he resorted to every sort of drink and pill you could imagine. Now, that's a dark road to go down, Dean, hardly ever leading back into the light. He, like your parents, was killed in a car accident. Except the difference was that his accident didn't involve another car; it involved only his car, his pills, his bottle of whiskey, and a tree. And his young son, petrified in the backseat, ensnared in his seat belt and watching the whole thing play out, watching his father go unconscious as he slammed forward into the steering wheel, watching the cabin of the car catch fire, and being pulled out just in the nick of time by a good Samaritan who happened to be passing by. That man, the one who pulled me out of that car, he took me in, raised me as though I was his own child, and in many ways, I was. He helped me to find my faith, and his actions inspired me to this line of work. But that's enough about me. Can we talk about you now?"

Dean watched tears build up in Castiel's eyes as he spoke of his plight. And damn, that was horrible. It had been bad enough walking up to the Impala and finding John and Mary... the way they were. But actually watching the whole thing play out? Feeling the flames and not being able to do anything? And so young? Castiel's story had also brought back memories for Dean, pushing him to the brink of tears as well, not only due to the priest's downright awful story, but also in part due to the facts it dredged up about his parents' accident. Suddenly, Dean was overcome by the urge to share his story just as Castiel had, to let this other man, this complete stranger, in on things he'd never even told his own brother.

With one deep breath, Dean began to tell his story, knowing full well that this would tear down the levee, knowing that he couldn't possibly hold back the way he really felt, knowing that just speaking the words, just hearing himself say them, would bring the wall he'd built around his heart crashing down in front of this man he'd just met. And yet, somehow, he didn't care. At all.

"It was raining, and my parents went out for their 25th anniversary. Supposed to be a good night. They didn't tell me or Sammy where they were going; I think that was because they just wanted to be spontaneous, go wherever the road took them, you know? So Sam and I were gonna go out too, have fun too, but when we were just a little ways down the road, we heard it. It was an awful, metal-scraping-metal, ear-shattering noise. So we went running to check it out. I'm not really sure what it was I expected, but what I saw made my heart skip. I saw a truck sitting across the road, fully blocking it off, and I saw the Impala... all bent and broken and off on the side of the road. I didn't know what to do, but I sure as hell didn't want Sammy to see anything more than he'd already seen, so I told him to stay back, and I don't know why he listened to me, but he did. And I'm glad. I don't regret that. I wouldn't want him to be sitting here instead of me, or with me, so I'm so glad he listened. I ran up to the car and tried to get the door opened, but it was locked, so I broke the window in.

'And there went everything. I saw my mom... there in the driver's seat. My dad was in the passenger side, and he was pretty bad too, but it was her that drove me over the edge. I don't- I can't... I can't explain it, but trust me, Cas, it was awful. I swear, it drove burning, searing hot iron straight through my heart seeing her like that, and her eyes. They were... open, haunted. Terrified.

'It took me a while to even figure out what to do, and by the time I came to, I realized there was nothing I could do. I couldn't help. And I don't know, maybe if I'd reacted sooner... Maybe I'd have..."

Cas had been sitting up straight in his chair the whole time, nodding to imply that he was listening, but he hadn't interjected a single word. However, when he felt Dean's guilt, saw that he was about to blame himself, the young priest couldn't hold back his words. "Dean you couldn't have done anything. I know that feeling all too well. Maybe if I had been older or known better or known what to do everything would be ok. Yeah, I've been around and around that point with myself a million times. Please Dean, don't do that. It was, by absolutely no means, your fault. And understanding that will be a crucial point in helping yourself, in letting me help you."

Dean's tongue darted out from between his lips as he licked them, a nervous little action designed to hold back the challenge he'd considered giving Castiel. Because it was different with Cas; he'd been too young, he was stuck in the back seat, he couldn't have helped. Different. Right?

But Dean stopped his protests, subconsciously telling himself that that just wasn't the point. Instead, he gave a single nod and continued. "Once the responders got to the scene, it kind of hit me for the first time. And that was when I just broke down. I'm not even sure how the rest of the night played out, or the days following it for that matter. I just know I had to save the Impala at the very least, because it was my dad's baby, he loved that thing. So I had to save her. I spent the majority of my time, hell, probably all my time, in the shop working on her, getting her back to brand new. I stopped only for the wake and the funeral, which I'd left completely up to Sam, my dad's friend Bobby, his wife Ellen, his daughter Jo, and her fiancée Ash, to plan. Come to find out, the driver of the truck walked away from the scene with only a few scratches and bruises to show for it. And a court date for driving drunk and 'involuntary manslaughter.'"

Cas's face registered some odd combination of shock and grief for a moment before returning to its previous placid mask, and Dean knew what had caught him off guard. The truck driver had been driving drunk, which meant that his story about his father had probably dredged up certain undesirable memories in Dean. Poor guy looked miserably guilty for ever bringing it up.

"Alright," Cas murmured, looking as though he was struggling with the words he wanted to form, "Dean, the one piece of advice that I'd like you to take, that I beg you to take, is please do not blame yourself. It wasn't your fault, and there was nothing you possibly could have done. The Lord works in mysterious ways, Dean, and perhaps it was just their time. Take comfort in the fact that they were able to spend their last night together, never having to be split by the veil of death. I know it's hard to accept; acceptance is an ambiguous concept really, but that's something we can work towards. I know that doesn't come easy."

And there it went. A single tear rolled down Dean's cheek, and soon more followed. And more. And more. And more. This man, the protective brother, the strong son, the boy who never broke in front of anyone because he'd rather be a shoulder to cry on than the one doing the crying, simply shattered. There with Cas, he felt like he could. Like it was a privilege he'd long been denied and now was allowed.

The priest reached for a box of tissues he'd hidden in a corner of the little room, holding it out to Dean patiently, waiting silently with his arm extended until the other man noticed it. When Dean finally opened his eyes, he grabbed two tissues off the top of the box with a gruff, "Thanks," to which Cas simply nodded as if it had been his duty and he'd simply fulfilled it.

As sobs continued to wrack Dean's body, memories flowing through his mind like wildfire through the driest of forests, Cas pulled his chair a little closer, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder comfortingly.

And Dean froze.

That touch had sent a certain electricity though him, one he'd never felt before. The tears didn't stop, but they certainly lightened as he opened his eyes to meet Cas's. Green connected with blue in a chemistry that bound them together, bonded them somehow, deeper than what a single conversation ever should have. Sitting in that room together, they were no longer just a priest and a man in need of some serious help, no longer just the two grief-stricken children whose lives had been shaped by two separate simple twists of fate, two separate accidents that had re-written life as they'd known it. They were more than that; their connection was infinitely deeper. They'd found trust.

"De-dean," Cas mumbled after they sat for a while like that, the word jumbled into what Dean could've sworn had been a stutter.

"Mhm?" was his simple response.

"I think... I think that's enough for today. You should... You should go; come back tomorrow and we'll talk some more. If you want I mean?" That last phrase was, judging by the words and structure, a statement. However, Cas's tone made it sound more like a question. And those were most definitely stutters, Dean noticed.

"I'd lo-" Dean cut himself off, realizing he was about to say 'love to' and chastising himself for how incredibly silly that would have sounded. After a moment's thought, he amended, "That'd be great, Cas. See you tomorrow," jumping up out of his chair and walking out the door as he spoke.

When he was already out in the open air of the church, he heard Cas's silky voice one more time. "And Dean? It wasn't your fault."

Dean took a peek back over his shoulder and met that cerulean gaze again, feeling a strange sensation in his stomach, something like butterflies. Because that's not chick-flicky at all, he thought, throwing a smile backwards to return Cas's. And with that, he left the church, shaking his head to clear it the second he was in the outside air. He could hear the Impala's engine start as he walked toward it, making a bee-line for the driver's side. Sam wasn't about to take him on any more mystery trips.

As he reached the door, he realized with dismay that Sam wasn't sitting in the passenger's seat. Nor was he alone.

Dean tore the door open much more brutally than he'd ever have done had he been thinking straight. But the thing in his car's passenger seat sent logical thinking out the window.

"Get the fuck out of my car," Dean growled the second the door was opened.

And Gabriel simply laughed, that obnoxious, child-in-a-candy-store laugh of his, grabbing for the door handle to his right. "Get your panties out of a bunch, Dean-o," he said once he was standing outside the car with his hand still resting just under the window. "I was just spending some quality time with Sammy here."

Sam had taken the hint and scooted over to the passenger's side as soon as Gabriel got out of it, so Dean just got into his car and slammed the door, whipping it into reverse and pulling away from the parking spot before Gabriel had even removed his hand. He took a single look in the rearview mirror as he drove away, only for a split second watching Gabriel watch him drive away with a smirk.

"What the fuck, Sam?" Dean snorted out as soon as they were away from the church parking lot.

"He's really a nice guy Dean..." Sam said softly, "I'm sorry he was such a dick to you. I think... I think you two are just too alike and that's why you don't get along. But I think you can learn to like each other. He'll grow on you."

"Yeah, alright Sam, I'll go friend him on Facebook as soon as we're back at the motel," Dean responded, his voice heavily laced with sarcasm.

Sam chuckled. "Anyway... How was Father Novak? That's what's important here. Are you going to meet with him again, or?"

Dean nearly didn't recognize this 'Father Novak' term. As far as he was concerned, the man with the perfect dark hair and the equally perfect deep blue eyes was Cas. Castiel at most, if they were being really formal. "Yeah, I'm coming back tomorrow. Cas was great, really helpful."

"Cas?" Sam repeated, never having heard the name before.

"His name's really Castiel," Dean said, feeling the strangest fluttering sensation in his chest as he heard himself speak the other man's name. "Castiel. Cas. Whatever."

Sam just smiled. "Good, I'm glad. Hopefully this will help you, Dean. I was really worried for a while there."

"Thanks Sammy, I really do appreciate it," Dean responded. "And yeah, I think he's helping already. Tremendously."

So there's chapter two then. Dean and Cas are much alike, and Dean and Gabriel bicker, quite a lot really. Hopefully their bickering provided at least a little tiny bit of comic relief from all the angst? Maybe? Also, trust is nice- these two broken boys need it.

Opinions will find quite a loving and appreciative home if you should choose to bestow them upon me ;) Reviews are lovely.

Also, why did I just believe it would be a brilliant decision to watch "Death's Door" again? I blame masochism. Bobby... Plus a commercial featuring Cas came on whilst I was watching it. So mhm. Bobby. And Cas. And Destiel. And... And... And... I'm just gonna go edit the next chapter now. Yeah, I'll do that.

Another chapter should be up relatively soon. I hope you're all enjoying this!