Chapter 7: I want you (part 1)

Castiel's POV

'Cas, you have to let me go. I'm going to call an ambulance,' Dean said, but Castiel's fingers dug deeper into Dean's wrist. They couldn't do that, Castiel thought; it would ruin everything. His lips hurt, his face hurt, his ankle hurt and they were all totally different pains. Throbbing and humming and stabbing and searing and the worst were the sharp, unbearable pains whenever he moved his left foot. It made him think he was dying, but Dean couldn't call the ambulance. He licked his lips because they felt so dry and winced when his tongue touched the raw, exposed flesh.

'No, I don't exist,' Castiel protested weakly. There was this wide eyed panic in Dean that Castiel had never seen before and it took a moment before Dean seemed to understand. There were no papers; no identity card, no driver's license, no insurance. They'd ask questions and Castiel or Dean wouldn't be able to answer them.

'Fuck that!' Dean swore and he gently unclasped Castiel's hand from his wrist and grabbed his cell off the kitchen table. Dean doesn't care, he thought, except about me. That made him feel a little better. His ankle hurt so much. He had barely managed to drag himself home, but now it seemed all his strength was gone and when he accidentally brushed his left foot with the right one he passed out.

(***)

He woke up, but couldn't open his eyes. It was strange. Also, he felt very woozy, as if he wasn't entirely awake yet. Like he was coming out of an extraordinarily deep sleep. He could hear voices that sounded as if they were coming from very far away. A little while later he recognised them as Sam and Dean's and realised they were actually in the room with him.

'...getting him an identity immediately,' Dean's voice insisted.

'Jimmy Novak,' Sam's voice said and he sounded tired.

'For now. Later we'll break into some town hall and change some birth certificates or hack a computer or something,' Dean's voice suggested and there was an edge of desperation to it that made Castiel feel sad. He tried to speak, but his lips wouldn't move.

'Dean, it's not that easy,' Sam's voice objected.

'Like hell it is! We've walked around pretending we were someone else for years. Don't tell me we can't do the same for him,' Dean's voice nearly shouted. Castiel attempted to move his lips again and they obeyed, but no sound came out.

'Calm down,' Sam's voice said quietly and Castiel waited for Dean's outburst. Dean hated for people to tell him to calm down; it only made him angrier. Rightly so, Castiel thought. Feelings didn't just go away, because someone told you to feel different. However, the outburst didn't come.

'I just... I don't want to worry about that. If something happens I want to be able to get him help,' Dean's voice replied. His voice was so quiet that it was almost a whisper.

'I know,' Sam's voice reassured and then it added, 'We'll work it out.' Maybe he could move something else, like a finger or a toe. Concentrating with all his might, Castiel managed to slightly reposition his hand.

'Cas?' Dean's voice asked and a warm hand covered his own. Without realising it, he smiled, which he only knew because suddenly his face hurt anew. It was a dull, subdued pain, but it was still unpleasant. Slowly, he wiggled his fingers and he felt Dean's lips on his hand. It made him want to open his eyes, so he could see Dean. Miraculously, he pried one eye open to a slit.

'Sam, would you get a doctor?' Dean's voice asked and Castiel could now see Dean and Sam. The younger Winchester smiled encouragingly at them before leaving the room. Castiel tried to say something, but only an unidentifiable croak came out.

'Cas...' Dean said and then his voice broke. They sat like that, Dean's thumb caressing Castiel's hand, until Sam returned with a doctor in tow. The doctor was holding a small, plastic sheet. Having been in the hospital before, Castiel knew what it was called. An X-ray.

'Hi Jimmy, I'm Miranda Teller. We've made an X-ray of your ankle,' she said and a warm, but detached smile beamed his way. The doctor put the X-ray up against a bright lamp in the wall and Castiel thought he could recognise the vague shape of a foot. She pointed towards a thin, almost undetectable black line in the bone.

'There's a fracture visible in the fibula; that's one of the ankle bones. It's a simple, clean break, so it most likely won't require surgery. We'll put it in a short leg cast and you'll have to come here once a week for a new X-ray to see if the fracture is healing properly. That'll take approximately six weeks during which it wouldn't be advisable to put any weight on the left leg. Other than that it's mostly your face, but as far as I can see you'll be okay once the swelling goes down. There are some superficial cuts and bruises in other places, but the ankle is really our primary concern,' she said.

Sam asked her questions about crutches and wheelchairs and she responded with clear and brief answers, while Castiel and Dean stared at each other. There was a look of intense relief on Dean's face and Castiel just wanted to hug him and tell him everything was going to be alright. The doctor left and a nurse replaced her. During the plastering of his foot, Bobby arrived.

'You look like shit, boy,' he announced, which earned him a disapproving glance from the nurse. Bobby ignored her and went into the hallway with Sam. Dean remained with Castiel, holding his hand. The whispering from outside grew angrier and louder by the second and the nurse kept peeking at the door. Castiel was 99 percent sure that Bobby had a shotgun hidden under his coat. It made him feel both grateful and slightly nauseous.

'This is not what he needs right now,' Castiel could hear Sam hissing. The two men came in after the nurse had finished putting on the plaster and told Castiel to lie still, before she left. He didn't need to be told. New sensations of pain could be felt all over every time he shifted and the general wooziness didn't help matters.

'What did they look like?' Bobby demanded, while Sam crossed his arms and glared at Bobby. Castiel looked at Dean. The former hunter looked conflicted. The truth was that Castiel didn't know what his attackers looked like. When he'd said that he was going to his boyfriend, he had not glanced in their direction; the response had been automatic, his thoughts had been elsewhere. What had happened after that had gone so fast.

There had been the unexpected pain and the blood and he was pretty much reduced to lying on the street and pleading. Pleading. An angel of the Lord, a warrior, a soldier; pleading for two men to stop hitting and kicking him. He hadn't even thought to try to hit them back. His body had suddenly felt vulnerable and awkward. Like a target instead of a weapon. Maybe that's what it felt like to be human.

'I...' he forced out and Dean softly squeezed his hand, 'I don't know.'

Bobby and, to a smaller extent, Sam looked disappointed. It was what they did, Castiel knew. When someone they cared about got hurt they took revenge. That was their way of dealing. He felt that he was failing them, because he was unable to provide anything useful.

The only thing that he could think of that he would recognise was their voices. They had yelled and taunted, hurling insults at him that he'd not been aware existed. However, if he passed them on the street and they would be talking to their wives or friends or children, he didn't think it would spark anything in him. Those voices full of hate were so different from everyday voices. It was the same with Dean's voice; if Dean was shouting in rage his voice was almost unrecognisable.

'That's ok, Cas. Let's just focus on getting you better,' Dean said and the other two men nodded, but Castiel noticed that Bobby gripped his shotgun a little tighter. After the doctor had come back and approved the cast, he was checked out. Castiel noticed that his name according to the chart was Jimmy Novak. They gave him crutches and he imagined it would be actually kind of cool to use them. In another situation perhaps, where his entire face didn't throb and he didn't need some pills for the pain in his ankle.

Dean looked about ready to chuck the crutches and carry him to the car, which would have been very romantic, Castiel thought. Instead, he stayed right by his side as Castiel wobbled to the parking lot and helped him into the Impala. Bobby shook Castiel's hand and he seemed to want to say something, but decided against it.

'Be well,' Bobby eventually ordered and his rough voice was a tad softer than usual. Sam drove, because Dean wanted to sit in the back with Castiel. The thing that he didn't understand was; why? Dean had warned him about divulging personal information to strangers. Still, why had they hurt him? They didn't know him and he had done nothing to hurt them. He didn't understand.

(***)

Three weeks later. The end of July.

Sam had gone over to Bobby's to work on his car. It was still nowhere close to being finished, but the grin on Sam's face every time he left for Bobby's told Castiel that he enjoyed working on it maybe even more than he would enjoy driving it. Castiel was lying on the couch, his head in Dean's lap, his foot propped up on some pillows. Currently, he was reading Hamlet, which Dean for some reason thought he'd read already. According to Dean, it was 'full of teen angst, but pretty epic.' While Dean was watching TV his fingers stroked Castiel's hair. Could life get any better? Yes, because Dean had been keeping his distance recently. Their physical relationship was practically nonexistent.

'Dean?'

'Hmm,' Dean mumbled. Castiel lifted his head and sat up straight. Dean quickly put a pillow on the coffee table and Castiel gratefully put his foot on it.

'Why did they beat me up?' he asked and Dean looked at him. Lately, whenever Dean looked at him, he always had a weary expression on his face. His touches had become very cautious. He treated Castiel like one of the pieces of furniture in Bobby's house; as if he was liable to crumble under his fingers. With one eye on the TV, Dean asked if they had to talk about that right now.

'Yes,' Castiel answered. Dean sighed loudly and turned off the TV.

'Because you said you had a boyfriend. They don't like men with boyfriends,' Dean explained. It was more than dislike. Castiel didn't like Sam's brand of cereal, but he wasn't about to try and stomp it into the ground. They had hated him; because he had a boyfriend? Because he wanted Dean? Because he loved Dean?

'They hate me because I love you?' he asked. Dean leaned closer, allowing their shoulders to connect. His hand reached out for Castiel's, but at the last moment he put it on his own leg. That was going on all the time now. Dean would make a move as if he was going to touch him and then he'd change his mind. It drove Castiel crazy.

'Yeah, pretty much. You gotta love humans, huh?' Dean replied, sarcastically. His fingers drummed on his leg and Castiel thought about how he missed those casual touches. Nowadays, Dean only touched him without reserve if the gesture was unconscious. Like stroking his hair or softly sliding his hand into Castiel's in bed. Otherwise, everything was so precocious and careful. Castiel could practically see Dean milling over whether or not to touch him and it could take ages before he took a decision. Even then, he could change his mind at the last possible second and avert the motion.

'But why?' Castiel asked again.

'Because... Damn, this is hard. Some of them find the idea of two guys having sex repulsive. Some of them think it is unnatural,' Dean expanded and he pronounced the word 'unnatural' as if it was poison. He almost spit it out. Castiel nodded.

'Not natural, yes, I can see how regarding reproduction procedures it is not... handy, but sex isn't only about reproduction, is it? I mean, that's why you have the rubber thingies?' Castiel queried.

'Condoms, yeah. Also, there are religious reasons...' Dean continued, but Castiel interrupted him.

'I'm tired of religion. Interpretation is key. Up there is the punishment and the smiting; down here it is supposed to be about love and tolerance,' Castiel said. As much as he lacked conviction in religious matters, he still understood the basic principles. Judgement is reserved for God.

'That is another thing they don't like. I think the idea of one man feeling that kind of love for another man is disturbing to them. And sex... Love and sex are connected. Sure, it can be just sex, but it can also be about intimacy and sharing something really special and showing how much you love each other,' Dean went on. Castiel stared at him intensely and the older Winchester shielded his eyes. They were silent for a minute.

'That's all I've got. I don't understand it either. Don't you know all this? You watched us humans for forever. Haven't you figured out we suck?' Dean joked, but Castiel felt he was only half-joking. A car backfired outside the apartment and Castiel cringed. A worried look passed between them, but Castiel shook it off. Loud and unexpected noises still made him start and he sincerely hoped that this would soon be over.

'I'm glad I didn't get a good look at them,' Castiel said and Dean regarded him, surprised.

'I feel sorry for them. Because we don't understand them because they hate. But they don't understand us because we love. That's sad. Not that I wouldn't destroy them if given half the chance, but they're pathetic,' Castiel explained and Dean patted Castiel's leg, before quickly removing his hand. He was glad. Dean would have hunted them and it would have become his sole purpose. Whether or not he would ever have found them; it would have ruined his life.

'You want to watch some of the films Sam rented for you? It's always hilarious to see what Sam thinks you would like,' Dean said and he got up from the couch. Castiel stuck a bookmark between the appropriate pages and put Hamlet on the table. Dean returned with a small stack of DVDs and read the titles.

'We've got Cocktail, Top gun, Serendipity, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead, and Jerry Maguire. Do you think Sam has a secret crush on Tom Cruise?'

Castiel picked out Cocktail and they settled against each other on the couch. After a few minutes, Dean's right arm slung itself around Castiel's neck and his fingers started to softly caress Castiel's bare shoulder. Due to Dean's reticence regarding touching ever since the attack, Castiel basked in even the smallest amount of contact. At night, Dean would hold him and their skin would be hot against each other. The air conditioning would blow and whir like crazy and Castiel would realise it was too warm to lie like that, but he gladly sweated buckets for that embrace.