Disclaimer: I don't own SPN.
Guys, lay off Dean! He's just extremely emotionally constipated and is so used to being backstabbed and screwed over that he's terrified to open up again! But I know that Cas baby appreciates the support :D
Thanks to L. Thestrup, suicidalunicorn97, Skyla Andrews, evy7chan, Minilin, Dragonsrule18, cerridwenjones, Uzumaki Naho and Guest for your reviews :)
By morning, Castiel hasn't returned and Dean's feeling sick to his stomach. He's always done this – pushed people away, stopped them from getting too close – but the only times he's ever felt this damn sick were the times he pushed Sam away. Sure, Cassie's rejection and Lisa kicking him out and John constantly leaving him had hurt like hell, but Sam and Castiel are special in a way that these others aren't. And Castiel is special in a way that Sam isn't. Sure, he loves them both equally, but…they're different. And he's coming to the tortured realisation that losing either of them hurts equally.
"Where's Cas?" Sam says. Dean manages to stop himself from jumping; he hadn't heard Sam enter the room and the sasquatch nearly frightened the shit out of him. Sam's dressed in exercise clothes, clearly intending to go for his morning run.
"He…left." Dean winces at how his voice cracks.
"Left? But he can't leave! The angels are after him!" Sam pauses and squints at Dean. "You look like shit."
"Gee, thanks," Dean says sarcastically.
"Okay, what did you do?"
"Me? Why do you think it's something I did?"
"Because I know you, Dean. I know your stupid, noble tendency to push people away because you're scared they'll get hurt. What the hell did you do?"
Dean doesn't answer for a moment. Then he rubs a hand over his face and turns to fully face Sam.
"I think I fucked up, Sammy."
To Sam's credit, he doesn't say anything. Instead, he pulls up a chair and leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs.
"What happened?"
Dean tells him everything. He tells Sam about the 'I love you' in the crypt; about how he and Castiel have been dancing around each other at his request; about the two or three kisses they've already shared, and how he's only messing with Castiel's head whenever this does happen; about how Castiel has been respecting his request to let him think about it; and about how he'd accused Castiel of not understanding the depth of human emotion and not being capable of feeling that way. He leaves out the bit about Castiel being forced to kill nearly a thousand copies of him. That's Castiel's story to tell, not his.
Sam listens in utter silence, which Dean is surprisingly grateful for. The last thing he needs is some douche interrupting him after every sentence and trying to psychoanalyse him. It isn't until he finishes his spiel that Sam finally speaks after a moment to gather his thoughts.
"Honestly? I'm with both of you on this," he says. Dean gives him a funny look.
"Both of us? I'm the one who fucked up here!"
"Yeah but you can't just turn your issues off," Sam says. "And I think Cas does get human emotion, but not fully. I don't think he can grasp just how many times you've been abandoned and lost people you love for that abandonment complex and habit of pushing people away to have formed."
"Gee, thanks," Dean mutters. Sam gives him a bitchface.
"Do you want my help or not?"
Dean rolls his eyes.
"Go for it, Dr Phil."
"I don't think he sees just how special he is for you to keep letting him back in after all the times he's left. I mean, anyone else leaves you and you tell them to fuck off, but not me and Cas. I'm the only one you ever let back in until Cas came along, and it scares you that he's gotten so close. You're terrified of this power he has over you."
Dean opens his mouth to protest but then closes it. It's not like Sam's wrong, and maybe if he shuts up this whole chick flick moment'll end quicker.
"The problem is that Cas has his own issues with people rejecting him. His whole family's rejected him, and they keep wanting him back but then push him away even more by trying to break him. You're similar but different. You want him and push him away and keep rejecting him, yeah, but for different reasons. And I think he does know that, just like you know that being with him isn't gonna make a difference whether or not he gets himself hurt. You know he can take care of himself. But even though he knows you want him, you keep rejecting him – like he's constantly rejected by everyone else. And that stuff gets into your head and stays there. You of all people know that."
Dean's starting to feel even sicker.
"So what the hell should I do?" he says. "Why the hell would an angel want my sorry ass?"
It's Sam's turn to roll his eyes.
"I'm not gonna tell you to stop putting yourself down, because I know that's like talking to a brick wall. But if Cas wants to be with you, I think you should let him. He did rebel for free will, remember?"
"But…" Dean doesn't want to just give in that easily. "Sam, what if it all goes wrong? What if I fuck it up? I'd rather he just be my best friend that I wanna bone for the rest of my life than we get it on and everything goes to hell."
"At the risk of sounding like a chick flick, you need to just go for it. Just do it, Dean. And if you're really too scared to go for it, tell him it won't happen. Give him closure. Don't keep stringing him along by saying you need time to think, then kissing him and doing cheesy shit. That's what's really getting to him, not you needing time to sort out your crap."
They fall into silence. Much as his skin is crawling at being totally vulnerable in front of his baby brother, Dean's finding himself more grateful than he's been in years that Sam is his brother. Sure, he pushes the bitch around and pranks him and picks on him, but he' the luckiest guy in the world to have Sam.
"Right. Thanks. Bitch."
Sam rolls his eyes.
"Jerk."
Just like that, the moment's over.
"I'm gonna go out and look for Cas," Dean says. "I know he can fly and stuff but I can't stay here doing nothing."
Sam nods.
"I get it. I'll come with you."
Dean raises his eyebrows.
"But your run! How are you gonna function without your morning torture?"
Cackling, he ducks Sam's punch and blocks the next one with his forearm.
"You are such an asshole," Sam grumbles but his lips are twitching. Dean smirks at him.
"I aim to please."
They spend all morning searching for Castiel in Lebanon but no matter where they go and how many times they call his name, there's no sign of him. By the time they decide to return to the bunker, Dean's nearly out of his mind.
"What if they got him, Sam?" he demands. "What if those assholes got to him? All because I got pissy with him and he left!"
"I hate to break it to you, but he probably would've left anyway," Sam says. "You know Cas. He hates being locked up."
"But if they kill him, the last thing he's gonna remember is me being a total dick to him," Dean says miserably. Sam side-eyes him.
"For someone who's allergic to feelings, you're being an utter chick right now," he says. Dean just flips him off.
"Shut up."
A whole week passes with no sign of Castiel and Dean's so desperate that he's taken to praying every day.
"Cas? Where are you, buddy?"
"You got your ears on? I get you're mad but please, let me know you're alright."
"C'mon, Cas. Gimme a sign. If those winged dicks got you, I don't know what I'd do."
"Cas…please…"
It's gotten to the point where even Dean's worried about himself and his Bella Swan-style moping. But seeing as Bella went totally catatonic over an asshole she'd only known for a few months, whereas Castiel had pulled Dean out of Hell and been by his side for years, Dean thinks he's earned the right to be worried to the point of self-imposed isolation. And besides, at least Sam doesn't have to force him to eat.
He's interrupted from his pity party by a knock on his door. A moment later, it cracks open to reveal Sam.
"Got a call from Kevin," he says. "He needs our help."
Groaning, Dean pushes himself into a sitting position.
"That's nice."
"Thought you might want something to…take your mind off Cas. All this sitting around isn't gonna help."
"Gee, no shit, Sherlock."
Sam rolls his eyes to high heaven.
"Just get the hell in the car, Dean."
It's a six hour drive to Warsaw, where Garth's house boat and Kevin are, but Dean makes the drive in five. Sam's understandably a little wary of Dean's driving but he's smart enough not to say anything about it. No matter how recklessly Dean's driven before, he's never gotten them into a crash (barring external, douchey supernatural forces, of course). It's afternoon by the time they arrive and when Dean bangs on the door of the house boat, he's nearly decapitated by a huge cast iron skillet.
"Whoa! Geez!" he exclaims. "What's going on? What's with the S.O.S.?"
He wrinkles his nose as he and Sam enter and are slapped in the face by the smell of unwashed laundry, mouldy food containers and dust everywhere. Clearly, self-care is not high on Kevin's list of priorities at the moment.
"It's him," Kevin says in a haunted, wrecked voice. "Crowley. He's in my head."
"He's…in your head," Sam repeats dubiously. Kevin nods shakily.
"Do you know what that means?"
"Yeah, it means we need to up your anxiety meds," Dean snaps. He's aware that he's being an asshole but with Castiel gone, he really can't find it in himself to care. "Kevin, you're dreaming. Look, if Crowley knew where you were, he'd do a hell of a lot more than mess with your head."
Kevin makes an odd movement, like he's going to nod his agreement but shakes his head at the last minute. Dean exchanges a look with Sam. Where the hell's Garth, when he said he'd look after the kid?
"Alright, where's Garth?" Sam voices what they're both thinking. Kevin shrugs.
"On a case or – or the dentist. I don't know. I haven't heard from him."
Instead of doing what he normally would and causing a massive fuss over Garth ditching Kevin, Dean chooses to focus on the main issue at hand here.
"Well, what'd you wanna tell us that you couldn't say on the phone? And can you put the frying pan down?"
Kevin complies, then rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms. A pang of sympathy for just how exhausted and worn out the poor kid must be courses though Dean.
"I translated the second trial from the tablet."
Dean blinks and then gives a small grin. Finally, something's going right in this hellish world!
"You…crazy prophet, you! Nice work!"
Kevin just brushes off the praise with, "And if Crowley's in my head, he knows."
"He's not in your head, Kevin," Sam says reassuringly. "It's okay. Just…we know you're stressed, but stay with us, okay? What's the second trial?"
The second trial turns out to be rescuing an innocent soul from Hell. Dean does not like the sound of this. While his nightmares of Hell are largely a thing of the past, he still has flashbacks to blood, and darkness, and bright flames, and tortured screaming. Just thinking about going back there sends cold shivers down his spine, and he was only there for forty Hell years. He doesn't even want to begin to imagine what Sam must be thinking. The poor guy was there for over a Hell century!
"Rescue a soul from Hell? Like actually…go to Hell?" Sam says incredulously. Damn, he's doing a good job of hiding how incredibly terrified he must be. Dean's respect for his little brother rises in that moment. "How – how do you get a soul unto Heaven? I mean, how do you even get a soul out of Hell?"
In that moment, both of them know what they're going to have to do.
"We're gonna need an expert," Dean says.