Okay guys, this chapter is mostly just exploring the relationship between Sam and Dean, which I based off two main things:
a) re-watching season 12, where we get a lot of these brotherly moments,
b) my brother-sister relationship with my little sister (mainly just me picking on her).
The Cas stuff will be in the next chapter and don't worry guys, the deancas relationship is still the main focus here, I just felt like I should actually give Sam a personality since he's going to be a recurring character throughout the fic. I mean, he's kind of important in Dean's life so I can't just ignore him.
So, without further waffle from me, please enjoy the new chapter.
Chapter 3
"Cas! What the hell is going- Dean?" Sam grabbed him by the shoulder once again, this time in an attempt to snap him out of his-whatever this was. The disbelief was evident in his tone as he questioned the true identity of the man before him who apparently was not Cas.
But it did make sense, only Dean called him Sammy, and occasionally Lucifer and Gabriel, but the former was gone from his head now and the latter was dead as far as he knew.
Dean(?) let out a pitiful groan at Sam's attempts to get through to him and get him to explain what was going on.
"Jesus Christ!" he tried again. "What happened?" he shook the older Winchester by the shoulders again, a recurring habit he seemed to have developed for when he had to get Cas' attention. He just felt like he needed to respect the angels boundaries - although Dean would insist that Cas had none. Still, it was strange how Cas would stand so close to Dean and yet distance himself from the slightest contact with anyone else.
Deciding it was all or nothing, believe it or not, he chose to accept that this was most probably Dean. He knew he had to suck it up and reach through to Dean a different way, and so he found himself enveloping his brother in a clumsy hug, made awkward by both the position they were in- one on the bed, one stood on the floor - and the fact that this wasn't entirely Dean.
He could feel the shoulders beneath him begin to still, only disturbed by the occasional jerk when the man took a large, shuddering breath and let it out shakily and slow.
"Dean? It's okay, I'm here. I understand...I think" he couldn't help but add that last bit but it seemed to do the trick anyhow as he felt the body beneath him straighten and he pulled back to maintain eye contact with Dean, who was staring at him from behind their friend's eyes.
"It must've been that damn witch" mumbled Dean.
Sam moved back a little further, out of his brother's personal space that he seemed to love so much, and proceeded to ask him the most pressing question, "Where's Cas? Does he know what happened?"
"Son of a bitch is probably getting himself into trouble trying to fix it for us all" Dean smiled sadly. Suddenly, he remembered himself and how he'd promised Sam few days ago, back at the bunker, that he'd try his best not to be so depressing. He sighed and shrugged, "Well, as long as he don't mess up my meat suit"
"Meat suit, really Dean?" Sam smirked, this was definitely his brother.
"What?" he looked up and raised his eyebrows in question at Sam. "You learn to think objectively after a couple years on the job."
Sam raised a single eyebrow in return, honestly surprised his neanderthal of a brother knew a word as complicated as 'objectively', but also in question of said brother's use of the word 'years' - made it sound like they'd only started hunting in their late-twenties like any other normal hunter.
Dean caught on quick, surprisingly, "Fine decades, whatever. Not like we've been consorting with angels all our lives. This whole schtick with Lucifer trying to get all up inside your ass only started a few years back".
He probably should have felt bad for such blatant teasing of his brother's ordeal with the goddamn Devil, but what could he say? Dean's use of sardonic humour was how he related to the world and anyone who couldn't deal with that could kindly go and screw themselves.
"Whatever jerk" smiled Sam. After all, he'd been dealing with his brother's stupid jokes for his whole life.
"Bitch" laughed Dean in a low, foreign sound. it briefly occurred to him that he'd never heard Cas laugh whole-heartedly before.
Sam laughed, "That sounds so weird coming from you right now".
Dean suddenly became aware of the fact he was literally Cas, on the floor with puffy cheeks, saying 'bitch' in the angel's gravelly voice.
He laughed and said "I am the one who gripped you tight and touched your ass"
"What?" Sam was thoroughly confused by this whole situation.
"Nevermind Sammy, you had to be there" Dean 'explained'.
"Uh, okay Ca-Dean... God, it's weird calling you that"
"Oh yeah? How do you think I feel?"
Sam immediately took on the kicked puppy look as if he wasn't allowed to have his own problems, "Point taken, sorry Dean".
Dean sighed, "Yeah, exactly...now come on". He threw his legs over the bed and pushed himself to his feet, careful to avoid the shards of glass on the floor from the shattered mirror he'd dropped in his shock. He pulled on Cas' formal, black shoes which were right by the bed and realised that Sam must've taken them off for him before putting him in bed.
He kicked some glass and wiped his face on the trenchcoat sleeve, admiring how soft the material actually is.
Sam watched silently as Dean marveled at his new feet and the shoes that were a notable step up from the size he usually wore. After an expectant look from the older Winchester, he nodded, "Yeah, we should probably start searching for Cas".
They both began packing up their few supplies, mainly the shower stuff Sam had brought with them, not trusting the motel supplies to pass a black-light test.
"So tell me," Dean took off the trench and folded it up on the bed in favour of one of the spare shirts he brought with him from the bunker, "what in the name of holy hell are you wearing on your head?"
Sam took on a look of panic and embarrassment as he realised he was still wearing the shower cap and quickly ripped it from his head and stuffed it back in his duffel bag, glaring at his older brother who made the angel he was wearing look so wrong with that smirk.
"It's nothing Dean, what does it matter?" After an eyebrow raise and a shrug from the older Winchester, Sam sighed heavily and continued, "You know what Dean? We've caused more harm to the world than we could ever hope to repair in our combined lifetimes and you think I enjoy knowing that I'm wasting precious moments of some innocent persons life with my hygiene issues?"
Dean gave a disbelieving look, "Hygiene issues? You mean hair in the drain?" He laughed, "You know, if you just let me shave your hair, or cut it a bit, you wouldn't have this problem". This earned him a glare from his younger brother. Naturally, he continued "Unless it's not just the head hair, in which case your gonna have to take up your own razor in your free time, I ain't touching that, sorry Sammy."
"Ew, Dean. Just, ew"
Dean gave a predatory grin.
"Please just stop with the dirty jokes and the creepy smiles until you're back in your own body"
"Of course Samuel, where are my manners? What would heaven think? I've been corrupted" Dean said in a deep, monotone voice, reminiscent of when they'd first met Cas.
"Dude stop" laughed Sam.
As much as Dean loved his brother, it had been forever since they'd both let go and laughed a little and besides, he was the king of making the best out of a bad situation so he decided to push it further.
He replied with "Dick" in the same monotone voice as his last statement.
"Dean!" There were honest-to-God tears in his younger brothers eyes now that filled Dean with a sense of pride and no plan to stop soon.
"Tits" he grinned, noting how unaccustomed his face felt to the use of those muscles.
"Stop it now Dean, I'm serious!" Sam was bent over in fits of laughter at this point.
"Pussy"
"Man, that's just rude" he grinned, wiping tears of mirth from his eye.
"Motherfu-"
Sam threw a pillow at Dean's head, cutting off his next profanity, laughing at his older brother's expression. Dean took a second to compose himself before going into 'Hunter Mode'. He smirked and rolled over the corner of his bed to hide behind the bathroom door, out of the way of Sam's attacks - waiting for a rogue pillow to come within reach.
He cursed as he realised his brother was smart enough not to give Dean any kind of advantage and he knew from experience Sam would wait all day to sneak a hit on him if he had to. He looked around to see what he had at his disposal, narrowly missing another hit from Sam, watching in vain as the pillow that sailed past him landed too far from the bathroom door for him to safely reach without being hit.
His frown soon turned to a maniacal grin as he saw the small pile of towels on the rack behind him - such a good word, he thought. Rack. Added to the four rolls of toilet paper he counted next to the crapper, that gave him four, five, six, seven. Seven pieces of ammunition in this fight.
He grabbed them all and put them by the door, taking off his shoes too because he knew from experience that the fight would escalate and they would start using hard ammo after they ran out of anything and everything remotely soft to throw.
Actually, come to think of it, he kinda understood where Sam was coming from now about being sorry for those who have to clean up their mess.
'Oh well', he thought as he threw a rolled up towel like a javelin towards Sam, laughing.