Chapter Five – The Fifth Terrace: The Covetous
What avarice enacts is here declared
in the purgation of converted souls;
the mountain has no punishment more bitter.
Just as we did not lift our eyes on high
but set our sight on earthly things instead,
so justice here impels our eyes toward earth.
~ Canto XIX, lines 115-120
"You know," Benny said, a tiny grimace directed at the scowling angel, "you're an awful greedy bastard for someone who comes straight from the Crusade Brigade."
He couldn't help but shake his head when the angel cantered up from his place at the back of their group to not-so-subtly situate himself between Benny and the hunter he'd been jibing. At first, the angel's obvious partiality for his human charge – and the resulting consequence of a celestial being acting like a neglected prom date – had been amusing, but after months of this nonsense, his tolerance was wearing thin. The vampire had not missed the obvious shift in dynamic between the two of them over the course of the last week or so, this time on Dean's part rather than the angel's. Something was different; something made the hunter smell different. But it was the tinge of yearning in the angel's eyes giving way to passive-aggressive jealousy that made Benny unable to bite down on his temper for another moment.
"What exactly is that supposed to mean?" the angel growled in response.
The hunter sighed heavily and swiped his non-weapon hand over his face. "Not this again. Guys, honestly—"
Benny stopped moving all together and squared off against the annoyed seraph, a tiny quirk of a grin on his lips.
"It just kills you that he actually enjoys my company, doesn't it?"
Before Castiel could answer, Benny continued, his grin becoming a leer.
"He values someone other than you and that just gets at you like an itch you can't scratch. You have just gotten so accustomed to having no one but you and his brother actually matter to him that it completely burns your biscuits that he gives a damn what I think. Doesn't it?"
Benny could see the twitch in the angel's jaw that signaled a massive effort to keep from rising to the bait that he offered.
"Angels do not bow to the level of jealousy," Castiel said with a heavy sniff, directing a glare at Dean when he snorted in caustic amusement.
Benny chuckled. "Please. You may be the first member of the Upstairs Team that I've met in the flesh, but don't think we don't hear things down here, Doe Eyes. I know exactly who you are and what you've done. Don't forget: I was one of the souls you swallowed when you popped the top off the box."
At least the angel had the good grace to look ashamed at that remark.
"I agreed to come after you simply because he refused to leave without you," Benny jerked his thumb towards the hunter. "Seemed to think you were better than those jack asses who've spent eons condemning and killing people for their faith – or lack thereof – in arbitrary virtues and then have the nerve to call me a monster. Imagine my surprise."
Benny hadn't missed the shock on Dean's face as he spoke. In fact, the hunter even managed to look a bit embarrassed, as if he had been trying to hide Castiel's previous poor behavior from his new friend. Much to Benny's astonishment, the angel seemed to find it much easier not to rise to the inducement this time. In fact, the self-righteous bastard had the nerve to fix him with a tiny, steely smile.
"You forget," the angel rumbled in that voice that didn't match his lithe, athletic frame, "I am Fallen. I am no longer Heaven's virtuous son and have not been for some time now. I am the Prodigal. I only continue to exist because my Father chooses to keep raising me, for reasons incomprehensible to any but Him. Especially to me."
At this, Dean stunned both of them by giving a hearty chuckle. "Cas pictures himself as Heaven's Naughtiest Angel, I think. Makes him feel brave."
There was an odd sort of fondness in his voice, Benny noticed, when the hunter spoke those words. Hot Wings, on the other hand, let his face drop to complete blankness, his features incongruously hard and cold.
"Do you know how many angels have ever had the courage to formally rebel and fall from Heaven, Dean? Oh, Lucifer had followers who were cast down with him," the angel said in a strangely conversational tone, "but do you know how many angels have had the fortitude to formally speak up, speak out against Heaven, and commit a direct act of rebellion?"
A strange tension, like lightning, crackled in the air as the angel spoke, striding the short distance between himself and the hunter and glaring up into green eyes with a resolute gaze.
"Do you, Dean?"
The hunter mutely shook his head, his jaw dropping just a minute amount as he stared down into the seraph's fixed gaze.
"Three: Lucifer, Anna, and me. I am one of only three angels in all of history to have the nerve to stand against the entire force of Heaven and say 'No'." The angel allowed a moment of taut silence to pass before adding, "It does not make me feel brave, Dean. I am brave. And I would ask you to remember why I Fell in the first place."
Obviously pleased with himself, the angel spun on his heel and marched away into the undergrowth, calling back to the two of them that he would start searching for a space to rest for the evening. Dean stood stock still for several long moments, watching the angel go and seemingly unable to force himself to respond to what had just happened.
Benny watched his friend in silence for nearly a minute, inspecting the way the man's face melted from one expression to another as he stared off after the angel but Benny definitely did not miss something buried at the back of the hunter's wary eyes. Something that he'd seen plenty of times before, something which hinted at – but didn't quite explain – the change in the hunter's smell these past few days. Benny had thought it was the hunter being on high alert for a fight – smelling of adrenaline and testosterone and fear – but now he suspected something different. And since the angel had been gone a minute or two, Benny felt safe testing the waters, as it were, when Dean jerkily started moving again.
"You know, brother, you'd probably both feel a lot better if you just gave the man the good old-fashioned rutting he clearly wants from you."
Benny had to thrust out an arm, grabbing his friend's bicep to keep him from tumbling to the ground. He might never call the hunter "graceful" – the man was too much solid muscle and brutal attack for such a delicate word – but Benny had never seen him uncoordinated. Yet just the suggestion of awareness of the tension between him and the angel was enough to have Dean losing focus, hooking his ankle on a very visible tree branch, and nearly taking a header into the underbrush. The vampire just swung out, seized the hunter's arm, and pulled him back to his feet, all the while keeping his face as steady as he could.
"Problem, chief?"
The hunter flailed, both physically and verbally, in response, nearly taking out Benny's left eye as he gesticulated with his weapon.
"I don't—I'm not—don't know what you're—and I mean, Cas isn't—he doesn't—"
Benny just ignored the protestations and pushed the hunter on down their path.
"Look, I get it. I do," he said with a heavy sigh. "I was raised in a society that don't look too kindly on two men feeling that way about each other—"
"Look, I think you have it wrong here—"
"—and I know that it's all part of your image and insecurity. Diving between the thighs of all these women is just another way of drowning in drink to avoid how you feel. Not that I don't think you enjoy the women," he added with a smirk that only partially stemmed the tide of Dean's babbling, "but I think that the possibility of what you feel for the angel scares the hell out of you because it's not the sex you're afraid of, is it, brother? I mean, sex is just sex, and I'd bet my eye teeth that most of what you'd do with a man, you've already done with a woman."
Benny doesn't pause for a response as they continue on towards where the angel headed, but he does note that Dean has gone suspiciously quiet.
"No, sex doesn't scare you. It's the fact that it's not just sex, isn't it? You're terrified that the sex would prove to you that there's something else there, some … bond," he notices Dean resumes babbling a bit at that word, "between the two of you, and that's harder to deal with. Because it's really that you're afraid of situations you can't control, isn't it? You lose the people you love because of how you live, and you've already lost him enough for several lifetimes. That's what really scares you, Dean. You know it; I know it. The funny thing is, I don't think the angel knows it.
"He thinks it's just the women. He thinks that it's that you don't feel 'that way' about him because he's not a woman. Or maybe he just thinks you don't feel that way about him at all, can't feel that way about him. I don't know. But the most ridiculous part about it is that anyone with eyes can see it, from both of you. The way he looks at you like he's jealous of every single moment that you've spent out of his eye sight, the way you look at him like you think it's impossible for someone to be so fucked up and so perfect at the same time and what's he doing around someone like you. And you never quite manage to see it in the other one, do you? How much you want each other."
The vampire watched from his peripheral vision as shock, hope, fear, and disbelief all chased each other around the lines of the hunter's dirty, bloody face. Eventually, his human friend managed to cobble together some sort of counter-statement.
"But Cas isn't—he doesn't … I mean, he doesn't think that way. Feel like that," Dean argued weakly. "He doesn't have those kinds of feelings."
"No? He must have mustered up some from somewhere, considering how determined he was to tell us about that wife he had. I'd say he has those kind of feelings far more than you know, brother. Maybe it's that he doesn't know how to process those feelings, or maybe he's just scared of them. But he has them, I guarantee you that. You just can't – or won't – see it."
"But … he's an angel."
"Mmm," Benny hummed in agreement. "But when he's in that meat suit, he's also a man. And I'm guessing that just because he don't need to feel the urges men feel don't mean he can't feel them."
"But—" Dean started but Benny had gotten just frustrated enough to nip the argument in the bud.
The vampire turned to face his human friend, hooking one tine of his weapon around the man's forearm, just strongly enough to pull him close and force him to look Benny in the eye.
"I'm telling you, brother, that he may not be full-blood human like you are, but those are the eyes of a man who's just about made his mind up to 'go native'; he just needs a door to walk through. I suggest that you give a good long think towards whether or not you want to be the one to open the door for him."
Benny strode forward, off toward where he could see the angel in the distance, circling a promising clearing in the trees, leaving the bewildered hunter alone with his thoughts.
O, Avarice, my house is now your captive;
It traffics in the flesh of its own
What more is left for you to do to us?
~Canto XX, lines 81-84
Castiel kept his eyes on Dean's back as they swept through the clearing, eyes scanning this way and that for any signs that an attack may be coming. The hunter had been suspiciously silent for the last hour or so, and now that the party had stopped for the oncoming dark hours, Castiel had noticed that the silence had become tension in his shoulders and neck. Pursing his lips, Castiel weighed the potential merits of trying to prod Dean into talking about whatever was bothering him, but in the end decided against it. He knew from experience that goading the elder Winchester into a discussion about emotions had disastrous results. The best approach would be to wait until his friend decided to open up. Castiel didn't have to wait long.
As the three of them rounded a small gap in a stand of trees to make sure it was easily defensible, Dean finally spoke up. "So you really got 'Biblical' with that fundie chick you were married to, huh?"
Castiel raised an eyebrow. His friend aimed at a joking tone of voice, but a note of something harder lingered behind it. "If you are referring to sexual intimacy, then yes," he said flatly.
Dean scoffed a bit as he sat down on a stump, rolling his shoulders to stretch the heavy muscles. When Castiel directed a dark glare at him, the hunter spread his hands in a gesture of mock surrender.
"Well, it's kind of a waste, don't you think?" Dean asked. "I mean, you save it up all that angelic repression for how many thousands of years—"
"Hundreds of thousands, actually," Castiel responded, scowling further.
"—and then you just randomly bang some chick because she pulled you out of a lake like a rescue dog?" Dean finished, his joking tone slipping away completely. "It doesn't seem very 'you', Cas. It just seems like you sort of wasted it."
Castiel tipped his head to the side and pinned the hunter with a challenging gaze. "And would you say that you 'wasted' all your sexual intimacy on the scores of 'random' women you've slept with?"
"Hey now," Dean said, stiffening and grimacing as Benny laughed nearby. " 'Scores' is a bit harsh."
When Castiel mutely raised an eyebrow, Dean gave a reluctant shrug of his shoulders.
"Not entirely inaccurate," he admitted, "but still, that's different."
"No, it's hypocritical."
"No, it isn't. You're different than me." Dean's eyebrows drew together over his bright green eyes.
"Why?" the angel persisted, unable to let the issue drop, though why he felt so determined to argue, Castiel couldn't be entirely sure.
"Because," Dean said, flushed with angry determination, "because sex – especially when it's your first time – isn't something that should be thrown away. It should be special."
Something in the hunter's tone rankled Castiel's nerves to the point that he found himself spitting back a barbed reply. "You are not a qualified person to pass such judgment, Dean."
The hunter leapt to his feet and charged down the angel before he even realized he was moving. Jabbing his pointer finger into the shorter man's chest, Dean stared down his friend.
"You know, I may have had a lot of sex in my life and it's not always 'making love', but I don't apologize for it for two reasons: first of all, I never have sex without thought. The women I sleep with, I sleep with because I want to and they want to and it's fun and hot and sometimes you just need a good lay. And I don't see why there's anything wrong with that because I'm an adult, God damn it, and I can make those choices. But I never have sex indiscriminately. I do it for a reason and I do it after thinking about it and thinking about the woman. I don't have sex with just anybody, I don't make stupid choices like having sex without protection, and I don't throw those choices away. Secondly, I don't apologize for my sexual history because my first experience with sex is what made me love it so much—"
Castiel grumbled, flailing his hands in angry impotent gestures as he spoke. "Yes, I'm sure you were sixteen and she was thirty-two, you were an animal, and she declared it the best night of her life—"
"Hell no," Dean retorted. He glared at Castiel as he growled an explanation. "We were both fourteen-and-a-half, her name was Rhiannon Lattimer, and she was plain and shy and the sweetest person I'd ever met. She said I had eyes like spring grass and she was the only one in that whole school that didn't treat me like I was a moron just because I wasn't smart like Sammy."
Castiel's mouth dropped open, his lips working to form words he never managed to say. Dean barely noticed, his face directed towards the other man but his eyes lost in a sea of memory.
"—and she didn't care that I didn't know what I was doing or that I was fumbly as hell or that my palms were sweaty. She even pretended that it didn't hurt, even though she had a tear in one eye. She just put her arms around my shoulders, kissed me like it was the most amazing thing that could ever have happened to her, and when it was over, she said she'd never forget me because I was the boy with the spring grass eyes that made her feel like summertime. She tasted like cherry bubblegum and smelled like lilacs…."
Castiel watched Dean blink a few times as he resurfaced from the recollection. The hunter's cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the astonishment on the angel's face, but he continued to stare Castiel down as he worked his throat around the break in his voice.
"So yeah, maybe I've got a checkered past, but I don't regret any of it. Whatever my sex life is, I own every choice from top to bottom. And whatever my sex life became afterwards, it started with a quiet girl who smelled like lilacs. And maybe I wasn't the forever kind of in love with her, but she made sex feel like this amazing thing …."
The angel waited for more but it didn't come. Dean seemed to have realized that he had tipped his hand too far, let too many of his inner thoughts out; the vulnerability was quickly capped and stowed away as he marched back to the stump and plopped down upon it.
"Despite common opinion, I'm not an animal. I am capable of higher thought and having sex for reasons other than mindless lust, you know."
Castiel carefully picked his way over to where his friend sat staring sullenly at the ground. He lowered himself to the forest floor beside Dean and gazed up at the hard set of his jaw.
"Of course you are," he murmured.
"My point, Cas," Dean said with another clear of his throat, "is that that's the kind of experience you should have had. You're too … good not to."
Castiel stared down at his folded hands resting on his crossed legs and digested this for a moment. Something ached in his chest at Dean's words, not only because he had called Castiel "good" despite all of his faults and wrongdoings but because his friend consciously wished for him such a beautiful first sexual experience. After a moment, though, a small smile worked its way across Castiel's face.
"That's a nice sentiment, Dean, though slightly strange coming from someone who once tried to procure a prostitute to rid me of my virginity."
Dean laughed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and knot his fingers together. "Yeah, well, that's a special exception. We thought you were going to die in less than eight hours. We didn't have time for sentimental bullshit."
Castiel's lips quirked up at the corners. "You assume, however, that my experience with Daphne was neither special nor pleasant. This is not the case."
"I know, but … did you love her?"
Something strange in Dean's voice had Castiel quirking his head to the side to regard his friend's face, determinedly kept in profile to the angel. Castiel hummed a bit as he considered the question.
"I believe I cared for her in whatever way I was capable at the time. She is a good person who, I believe, loved me. Or, at the very least, the man she believed me to be."
Castiel couldn't stop his brows from pulling together as he frowned.
"I often regret that I left her with no word of my whereabouts, never to return. But," he spread his hands in question, "how could I possibly explain even if I was to return? That, if nothing else, was the real waste of the situation. Our physical intimacy was a valuable and pleasurable experience."
Dean just nodded and stayed silent. A confused, pained expression still lingered around the corners of the hunter's eyes and mouth, so Castiel fished for something that might cheer him up.
"In retrospect," he began, "there was one part of the sexual experience that could have gone more smoothly."
Dean grinned and looked at the angel with raised eyebrows.
Castiel flushed just a tiny bit, gazing down at his folded hands again. "It seems that the pornographic films that I viewed in your motel rooms are not the most accurate guideline for appropriate sexual conduct."
A ringing moment of silence held between the two men before Dean burst out in gruff barks of laughter. The hunter's whole body reeled with the force of his mirth, his wide palms slapping together in echoing claps as he let loose rolling waves of belly laughs.
"Holy shit, man," Dean guffawed, "that's the funniest damn thing I've ever heard. If that is what you used for your standard of human sexuality, you probably shocked the shit out of that mousy little church lady. She probably either thought you were the scariest perv on the planet or literally God's gift to her sex life."
Castiel couldn't help a tiny smile as Dean continued to chuckle. "She did seem somewhat … surprised."
This set off another cascade of laughter. Castiel tried to hold onto a peeved expression – protesting "how was I to know that spanking someone isn't normal sexual protocol?" – but couldn't keep it still as Dean clapped a hand on the angel's back. As Dean's chuckles faded to just a smile, Castiel tipped a questioning expression to the man as he studied Castiel's face.
"It's just … weird," Dean said after a moment. "Thinking of you … you know …."
"Engaging in sexual activity?" Castiel supplied, raising his eyebrows at his friend's sudden discomfort. "Why?"
"I don't know," he replied honestly. "I guess I just got used to the idea of you as Nerdy Winged Virgin. It just seems weird to think of you having sex with somebody that isn't—"
Dean's sentence ground to an abrupt halt, and the hunter quickly directed his gaze off into the trees.
"Isn't …?" Castiel prodded when Dean just alternated between gazing at his hands and gazing at the trees.
"I don't know. Isn't … someone you care about. Like … really care about."
Dean's voice creaked a bit and a light pink blush stained his cheeks. Something about the words played false in Castiel's ears. They weren't what the hunter had originally intended to say, he was sure of it. Dean chanced a quick glance at Castiel, but something in that gaze made his friend suddenly nervous. Castiel's heart began to thunder within his chest in that brief glimpse; several swallows that jerked his Adam's apple and Castiel's throat still felt parched, as if he'd gulped a handful of desert sand.
"Dean?" Castiel asked.
When the hunter stared resolutely into the trees, clearly trying to ignore both the angel and his own unexpectedly-restless fingers, Castiel raised a hand and placed it on Dean's chin so that he could turn the hunter to look him in the eye.
"Dean, you sound as if you're … jealous," the angel said in a low voice.
The hunter jerked as if Castiel had slapped him with the words.
"What?! No!" Dean practically yelped. "Of course I'm not!"
Dean jumped up to his feet and backed away from Castiel a bit, stumbling over a downed branch. A moment of manic energy suffused the hunter as he glanced around, searching for Benny. When Dean realized that they were, surprisingly, alone in the clearing, he stopped pacing to scrub both trembling hands over his face and up to clutch into his hair.
Castiel rose slowly, walking with soft tread, giving his anxious friend plenty of time to notice his approach. The angel stopped well short of what he knew would be Dean's 'personal space' boundary, tipping his head and waiting for the man to settle himself. Once Dean looked up at Castiel again, his body calmer but his eyes still carrying a trace of fear, the angel calmly but deliberately stepped up only inches from his friend. He tilted his head and let his eyes lock onto the bright green ones above him. To the hunter's credit, Dean evaded neither Castiel's nearness nor his gaze despite the man's discomfort.
"Dean," Castiel said quietly, noting that the hunter twitched at his voice.
He fell into silence for a short moment, perceiving the sudden increase in his friend's respiration, the pounding of the vein at his throat.
"Dean," he spoke again, "you sound jealous of the fact that I have had a lover."
The statement hung suspended in the air between them before Dean let out a held breath.
"Maybe … maybe a bit," he said slowly. "I guess I always just pictured you as this pure thing that wouldn't have sex unless it ... it was …."
Castiel let the question silently show on his face.
"With me," Dean finished in a husky voice, not quite able to meet the angel's eyes anymore.
Castiel gaze moved quickly across his friend – from the clenched fists at his sides to the quick breaths, to the clench of the muscles in his jaw. His vessel's responses seemed to mirror Dean's, his breaths becoming shallower, more rapid, his limbs suffused with nervous energy, his heart pounding.
"Dean," he whispered, his voice rough, gravel against his sensitive tongue. "Dean, you say this as if you have … imagined our friendship evolving into a sexual relationship."
The angel watched Dean's eyelids flutter shut and his throat work as he swallowed several times in rapid succession. Castiel's hands itched as they clutched at the ragged folds of his trench coat, longing to tangle them in the worn leather of Dean's jacket to pull the hunter closer and yet, not daring to make such a bold move. Castiel's throat clenched, his heart seemed to bounce against his ribs as he watched Dean take deliberate breaths that inflated the man's chest until it seemed fit to burst.
"I don't … I don't think …" Dean stammered in a breaking voice. "I don't think I ever really thought about it that hard. I didn't really consider the reaction. I just knew that when you said you had slept with her, my brain went, 'Hey! I was supposed to be first!' I don't …."
Dean stuttered to a stop as he opened his eyes and looked down at Castiel. For a long moment, they just gazed into each other's eyes. Castiel was transfixed by the play of light within the green orbs, flashing gold wherever light kissed them. He found a curious tingling spreading like wildfire throughout his body, concentrating low in his belly. When the tingling grew to a heat that Castiel suddenly recognized, he snapped his gaze away from the hunter's and drew in a sharp gasp of surprise, causing his chest to bump against Dean's. He must have wobbled on his feet because Dean thrust out a quick hand to wrap around Castiel's bicep, steadying him. Castiel felt his shirt snag against the zipper of Dean's jacket; he stared at it until he felt the heat of the hunter's gaze on his face. Dragging his attention upward, Castiel allowed his eyes to meet Dean's once again.
Whatever the hunter saw in Castiel's expression caused him to pant out a few shaky breaths before finishing his sentence. "I don't really know what that means."
Castiel gave an unsteady laugh. "It means that we've been wasting time, Dean."
It seemed to take a moment for the meaning of his statement to descend upon Dean. When it did, Dean's hand closed around Castiel's bicep to an almost punishing grip and then released just as quickly.
"Cas, I—" Dean started to say but trailed away to nothing.
The angel watched at least twenty emotions chase themselves across Dean's blunt features before he settled on insecurity and fear. Dean took a faltering step backward.
"I should … go see if Benny needs help scanning the perimeter," Dean concluded.
The hunter winced at his own remark but when his brows drew together in pain and confusion, Castiel took pity on him and offered a mute nod.
"Wasting time," he muttered to himself as he watched the hunter stalk away into the trees, his shoulders low and tense under the thick leather jacket.
[these] words serve as answer to our prayers as long
as it is day; but when night falls, then we
recite examples that are contrary.
~ Canto XX, lines 103-105
Dean stalked around the clearing, running a circle opposite to Benny's, using the hand not gripping his weapon to card through his hair. Every now and then, the panic boiled high enough to have him grip the short, dirty-blonde strands in punishing grip, stopping his restless circling long enough to let out a frustrated grunt. There weren't many things that could rattle Dean hard enough that he couldn't either bury them or burn through them, but whatever the hell this was going on with Cas … it was more than enough to say he was sufficiently rattled.
Okay, so Dean could admit to himself that his relationship with Cas had never been exactly "normal", whatever the hell that meant. He didn't have a lot of friends – he never had, really – but the ones he did have, he knew that this thing with Cas was and had always been different. The stares, the personal space issues, the reckless need to justify themselves to the other person, the ruthless devotion that seemed to go down to his bones … even further with Cas. Hell, that angel had done things for him that he wouldn't even ask of Sammy, and while many of those actions were misguided, Dean couldn't pretend that he didn't see the intent behind them. And it all seemed to add up to one thing: there was something else between him and Cas than just the friendship that they both called their "bond".
… Dean was just starting to realize that it was also more than the "family" that he called it, too. Sure, Dean had gone to Hell and back – literally – for Sam, but … well, assuming that Benny's source was right about this supernatural elevator back to Earth, Dean could have been home hale and hearty months ago. If he hadn't been looking for Cas. And yet, it hadn't ever really occurred to him not to go after Cas. Even now, the idea of jumping ship and going home without the angel made his stomach turn and his chest seize up in dread and sadness. He'd spent most of his time in Purgatory telling himself that it was because Cas was his friend, damn it, his best friend; and since Dean didn't have all that many friends, he needed to protect the ones he had. Because that was just the way he worked: Dean protected the people he lo—
And that thought stopped him dead in his tracks. He couldn't even finish it. But that was what this was all really about, wasn't it? The way he felt about Cas? And it was more than just friendship, hell it was even more than feeling like family, because he'd sure as fuck never had a crisis of conscience over Bobby or Ellen or Jo. He felt something for Cas, something he hadn't ever felt for anyone. Not the way he felt it about Cas. And that was what had made him bolt away from the angel earlier.
As much as he hated being a fucking coward, this sort of Hallmark bullshit was far from Dean's strong suit at the best of times, and this was Cas. It was more than just him being a dude, or an angel … maybe because he was both of those things, and Dean just didn't know what the fuck to do with that. He couldn't name it, he couldn't control it, he couldn't even fucking hold on to whatever the hell he was feeling, and he felt like if he let go with both hands then whatever the fuck it was would pull him under.
Dean looked up from where he had started to slowly orbit the clearing again and caught sight of Cas as he traversed the inner circle empty of trees. Watching the angel as he moved about the space, eyes closed, palms gently raised as he mumbled something in a language Dean could neither hear nor understand, Dean felt struck to the core. Whatever it was that pulled at him, pulled him towards this being, felt like it was anchored behind his heart and he needed to either just let go and be reeled in or swing out a knife and cut the rope altogether. Every single fear and years of training told him it would be safer just to cut bait; he could easily say or do something just dismissive and cruel enough to make it clear to Cas that the line was drawn between them, and no matter what other instincts Dean had, he wouldn't step across.
He couldn't bring himself to do it.
Instead, he watched the angel saying prayers and laying whatever protection he could upon the space where Dean would eventually return to sleep and Dean thought about what Cas had said. Waste, he had said, and it seemed to sum up so many sins in their relationship. Misreading and ignoring all those tugs and pulls between them over all the years they had known each other. Rationalizing away the swoops in his stomach and heat in his chest when Cas had fixed him with that penetrating stare that seemed to know every inch of his heart. Laughing off the comments about Cas being in love with Dean, made by pretty much every person or creature that had ever seen the two of them interact. Working against each other out of fear and insecurity simply to fight the fear of being a burden or being abandoned by the other. Holding on to those feelings of betrayal and bitter anger because they had been working at cross purposes and neither had possessed the courage to simply open his freaking mouth and ask for help. Or forgiveness. Fighting what he had felt since the instant he saw Cas next to that stream, dirty and battered but alive, feeling the fear and desperation that seemed sewed into his muscles melt away and leave nothing but watery relief and sharp, clear joy. Dean couldn't help but think that maybe Cas was right: maybe all of this, ever since the first time they locked eyes on each other outside of Hell, was just wasting time until one of them got the nerve to admit what was really going on. But … could he really do it? Could he really let all that shit go and just … step over the line? Dean didn't know. He wasn't sure he had the courage.
He watched Cas settled against a tree, wordlessly removing his coat and folding it in his lap, a waiting pillow for Dean's head even though it had been several days since Dean had asked for that favor from Cas. It didn't occur to the angel not to offer it, even if Dean never asked for it again. Then Dean dared to ask himself a question he hadn't been wanting to face, one that he had staunchly refused to even admit could have any answer other than the one he wanted…. What would happen if Cas was right, that the portal back to Earth wouldn't work for him? What if Dean crash-landed back at home, without the one person he had scoured all of Monster Land to find? Would Dean feel like he had done the right thing, capping back all these feelings and instincts, knowing that he couldn't ever act on them even if he wanted to? Or would he spend the rest of eternity regretting that he had wasted the time in front of him? Time he would never get back.
He wasn't conscious of making the decision to move, but before he even realized that the thought had entered his head, Dean found himself standing over Cas as he gazed fixedly into the trees opposite where he sat. The angel didn't look up as the hunter stood over him, just gazed into the forest, where Dean could hear Benny moving through the undergrowth, with a deep crease between his furrowed brows.
"Something unsettling is moving out in the trees tonight," Cas said, never taking his sharp, darting eyes off of the shadow-laden trees being swallowed by darkness. "Something more than just your blood-sucking friend."
Dean just nodded, unsure of what to say in response. All of the words that had clogged his throat for the past hour lodged themselves behind his voice box, unwilling to come out. At a loss for anything else to do, he simply folded his long legs beneath him and perched on the ground next to his friend.
Castiel finally broke his heavy gaze on the forest and turned to Dean. His face held the same inscrutable expression it had perfected on the day Dean met him.
"Sleep," Cas said eventually, a soft rumble of noise. "I will watch over you."
Dean opened his mouth but found himself unable to think of a way to broach the subject chasing around his head, so he just nodded and began to settle down. Once he'd taken off his jacket and folded it up as a pillow, Dean froze with his head halfway to the beaten leather.
"Cas," he started, but his voice broke a bit and he had to clear it before continuing. "Cas, would you … I thought it might help me sleep if you … stayed here with me."
Cas tilted his head questioningly but gestured silently to the folded trench coat in his lap.
Dean propped himself up on an elbow and shook his head, ignoring the flush rising on his cheeks. "No, I … I mean, I wondered if you might lay down. Here. With me. I know you don't need to sleep," Dean said hurriedly when the angel raised an eyebrow in mute surprise, "but I thought, I don't know, can't you guys meditate or something?"
Cas's face was once again studiedly blank. "Yes," was all he said in response.
"I just … you know, I thought it might help to have you next to me while I sleep. You know … if you don't mind."
There was a moment of silence where Cas just studied Dean's face – another one of those intense moments where Dean felt the angel could peer into his brain – before he simply said, "Of course, Dean," as if it were the most natural and common place request that his friend had ever asked of him.
Dean felt that stingy zip of nervousness as his friend laid down next to him; stupid, really, because the angel did it without comment or hesitation. Cas simply unfolded his lean body next to Dean's, transferring the trench coat from his lap to under his head, resting his slender arms on the ground next to him on either side. Unable to resist a small smile – Cas somehow managed to make even sleeping look stiff – Dean eventually dropped his head off his bent elbow and laid down on his back, staring up into the canopy of leaves overhead. He snuck a small glance back at Castiel, who had allowed his eyes to close and his face to fall slack.
And if, when he settled back down against his coat, Dean chest loosened while listening to the slow, even breathing of his friend as the angel lay next to him, well, it was just because he felt safer when they can protect each other. Maybe he did feel a little thrill in his muscles when he realized that the heat from Cas's body radiated all along his left side, where their bodies are almost close enough to touch. And maybe Dean's arms fell to his side after a moment, and maybe that caused his left hand to cover Cas's right as it rested on the ground next to him; Dean was just getting comfortable. And if his fingers happened to slip into the gaps between Cas's when the angel moved his hand underneath Dean's, it was obviously a complete coincidence. And okay, maybe Dean curled his fingers gently around the smooth digits in between his, and smiling a little when the angel's fingers clasped his as well. Dean was just making up for lost time.