Chapter Seven: Your Eyes as Foreign Candles

I should talk to him.

I should leave him alone.

No, I should probably go talk to him.

Damn it.

Dean tossed and turned all night, once again. The sunlight he saw streaming through the streaky glass of the little window between his and Sam's beds told him he'd been up all night, and he still hadn't committed to any path of action. The only decision he made was that he really needed to figure out what the hell to do. When Sam finally stirred, Dean stifled a fake yawn, and as his brother swung his legs over the side of the bed, Dean pretending to be blinking away sleep.

"Morning, Dean," Sam said with a smile as he walked past his brother's bed, toward the bathroom. "We heading over to the Church today?"

Shit. What was Dean supposed to do now? Pretend to be sick? Or too tired? Tell Sam he hadn't slept all night, or that he wanted to go to some tourist attraction for the day and make this a real vacation? Yeah, no. Probably not the latter, considering the serious lack of anything of particular interest in Pontiac, Illinois.

"Yeah, course." Dean couldn't stop himself. He hadn't even considered agreeing to Sam's notion, but somehow the words formed themselves in his mouth. And there went that.

Before Dean knew it, he was sitting in the passenger's seat of the Impala, parked in the church lot with his hands shaking. He'd been pulling nervously at a hole in his jeans the entire ride, causing Sam to laugh at him, asking Dean why he was so nerved up. Dean lied, telling Sam he wasn't nervous and that he was simply trying to place the thread in a way such that it would be hindered from unraveling any further.

"Gonna go in, or did you want to join me and Gabe for breakfast?" Sam finally asked, worry creasing his forehead as he cast a sidelong glance at Dean from the driver's side.

"No, I'm... Going now," Dean answered, stepping out of the Impala and taking a few deep breaths on his short walk to the front door.

His footsteps echoed strangely on the tile flooring of the church's entryway. Or maybe it was his heartbeat causing that almighty sound. Dean didn't know.

"Woah, Dean-o. What what what are you doing here?" Gabriel asked, his voice carrying from behind Dean.

As Dean turned, he saw the little guy poking his head out of a side door. "Ca- Father Novak here?" Dean asked, trying to remain civil with his brother's... boyfriend. Or whatever he was.

"I can say with reasonable certainty that Father Novak is not expecting anyone. He told me that he should be left alone this morning. Did you have an appointment?" Gabriel questioned, confusion lacing his eyes.

So Cas didn't want visitors. Awesome. "Uh," Dean stammered, "I just... Need to talk to him. He here?"

Gabriel weighed his options for a moment, still peeking out from around the door while gripping its frame. "He's... in the confessional. Just knock first, he sounded like he really didn't wanna be bothered this morning. And if he tells you to leave, for God's sake Dean, just do it."

"Yeah, thanks," Dean called over his shoulder, already trying to build a little confidence and stop his hands from shaking as he took the first few steps toward the little room where he'd first met Cas.

"Wait, Dean?" Gabriel yelled after him, forcing him to turn back around.

"What Gabriel?"

"I... I appreciate how kind you were to Sam. And to me," he said, surprising Dean with his sincerity, something he'd never before seen in Gabriel. "And if Father Novak asks, I did not inform you of his whereabouts. Ok? Ok."

Dean chuckled, shaking his head as he turned back toward the little confessional. Maybe that guy wasn't so bad. Dean silently promised himself that he'd at least give Gabriel a second chance, a clean slate. Or maybe it was an attempt at bargaining- I promise to give Gabriel a second chance if Cas will give me one, he amended, not even sure whom he was addressing, just giving the bargaining thing a try.

With one more shaky, deep breath, Dean brought his hand up to knock on the confessional door. Coherent thought left him when his hand first hit the wood of the door, pushing the thick barrier open immediately. It had never been closed properly.

Cas had his back to the little room's sole path of both entrance and exit, facing the monstrous stained glass window which cast strange, colorful shadows over the whole room, making his black-clad figure stand out even more sharply. He was kneeling on a little confession kneeler, leaning his head into his hands, which were folded in apparent prayer. He hardly moved when Dean opened the door, but some small detail, or maybe just some intrinsic knowledge, told Dean that the other man felt his presence.

After what seemed like an eternity to Dean, frozen at the door with his hand still raised in the knocking position, Cas stirred ever so slightly, but still didn't turn about. "Dean," he commented simply, not a question, but a statement.

He finally lifted his head as Dean cleared his throat, unable to speak. "I was expecting you," the priest continued, and somehow Dean had a feeling that was the truth. "You're here. You might as well come in."

Dean did as he was told, blindly following Castiel's instructions, just as he had the day before. Cas pushed the kneeler against the wall of the room, taking a seat in a chair in the corner as he gestured for Dean to take the seat opposite him, assuming the same positions they had on that very first day they met.

They sat for a while, Cas's cerulean eyes connecting with Dean's emerald eyes, sparks igniting in the same way they always had. Dean could've sworn he felt his pants growing far too tight, but he couldn't be sure. Coherency was still failing him.

"I need a favor." It was a simple statement, and Cas kept his voice entirely steady over it.

Finally, Dean woke up, the thrill Cas's words sent through him helping him to find his own voice. "Mhm, anything."

"Dean, I need to be reported. I should not be allowed to get away with what I've done; I need you to report me to my superiors, to the diocese, to Rome even- just to someone." The words sounded somehow alien coming out of Castiel's mouth, like they weren't even being spoken in English. The pain Dean saw deep in those blue eyes wrenched at his heart, and he could feel his own eyes watering, mirroring the action in Castiel's.

"No," was Dean's simple answer, a hollow shell of his normal voice, cracked and broken.

"Dean," Cas continued, more fiercely, "I am a priest. Just for starters, that does imply that I'm supposed to live a life of solitude, never taking part in romantic gestures. Just to add insult to injury for that rule, I am especially not supposed to be intimate with another man, particularly not one who came to me for help. I was supposed to make your life easier, not more difficult. I was supposed to aid you in the delicate process of overcoming your past, to make you less vulnerable. Instead, I took advantage of your vulnerability. I failed in my true task, Dean. Miserably. I cannot go unpunished." By the time he neared the end of his words, something changed in Castiel's eyes. The previously warm, sad azure changed, looking more like the frozen arctic sea, cold and unattached.

"No," Dean repeated, schooling his voice to make sure it stayed steady. "I won't Cas. It takes two. You didn't do it alone. It was just as much my fault as it was yours, probably more my fault. And just for the record, you have helped me. Tremendously. In everything you've done, you've only helped me. I forgive you. It's ok, Cas, it really is. I promise." And Dean wasn't kidding. In the little bit of sleep he'd gotten since he'd met the battered, shaken young priest sitting before him, not a single dream had haunted his slumbers. He knew, deep inside, that Cas was helping, that the connection with another human was finally awakening Dean from the nightmarish fog he'd been held captive by for weeks.

Castiel laughed at that, but it wasn't the deep, rich tone his voice usually carried. This was something else entirely, so dry of humor that it sent a chill up Dean's spine. "It is, by no means, okay, Dean. Not even a little bit. I took advantage of a man defenseless and weakened by events outside of himself. Have you any idea what that means Dean, about me? Don't you see how terrible that was of me?"

Dean shook his head, swallowing hard to force back the hot tears stinging at his eyes. "Cas, I- no."

Cas shot a puzzled glare downward toward his pants, and then sighed, blinking very slowly as he looked back up. "See Dean? I cannot be around you... I just can't," he whispered, the ice-cold detachment melting as he shook his head.

"Then I..." Dean began, knowing what he wanted to say but unable to actually force the words out. Cas cradled his head in his hands as an involuntary shiver ran through him, a fine tremor forcing its way down his spine, much like it had the day before. When Dean finally spoke, he heard his own voice cracking in a way he'd never heard before heard it do. "Then I will stay away from you." There. It was said. It couldn't be unsaid, and much as Dean regretted it, he knew it had been necessary.

"Not enough," came Cas's barely audible response. Then, he picked up his head and stared at Dean with those frozen eyes once more. "If you will not report me, I will ask Gabriel to say I kissed him instead. Or maybe I'll pay an altar boy to report me. Dean, I must serve a penance equal in proportion to my actions. I have to. And if you won't help me to do that penance, I will enlist the help of another."

Dean froze. He wasn't sure if Cas was bluffing or not, but judging by the steel resolve Dean heard in his voice, the guy sounded pretty damn serious. "Cas... No. Please... just... make me a deal? Please, if I agree not to see you anymore, will you please just keep this a secret?" But Dean could see that Cas wasn't wavering. "Father Novak," he tried, more formally, feeling his chest tug as he addressed the man by his full name, "I do believe you told me that everything that happened between us would be held in confidentiality. Please honor your promise to me? Please?"

Ah, there was the weak spot. Cas cracked under the pressure, shaking his head with a sad little smile; he knew he was bound by the seal of the confessional, bound by a promise he made, "Dean Winchester, you are unbelievable. You know I'm going to feel guilty about this for the rest of eternity, yes?"

Just as Castiel wouldn't waver only moments before, Dean stood his ground in an equally obstinate way presently. "Well, that's your choice. But I'm asking you, no I'm begging you, not to. It wasn't your fault Father Novak, none of it was. I told you once and I'll tell you again, it takes two. I'm sorry I've messed up your life so much, but please forgive yourself like I've already forgiven you. And as for me, you'll never have to see me again, I'll disappear forever. Like a wise man once told me, it's not your fault."

"Dean, you haven't messed up my-" Cas began, and Dean could hear tears in the priest's voice, but he was already gone.

"Thank you," he whispered as he walked out the door, "for everything," and with that, Dean Winchester stepped away from the church for what he fully intended to be the last time, tears clouding his vision.

His feet smacked harder and harder against the pavement with every step. Out the door, through the parking lot, he didn't stop. He just kept running, going wherever his feet carried him. Tears fell to the pavement from the eyes of the man who hardly ever did cry, as Dean ran, faster and faster away from Cas, feeling the strongest regret of his life at the thought of not sticking around, of leaving Cas when he really needed him. But he wouldn't turn back. This was what Father Novak wanted.