Chapter 9: Sleeping Sickness
Castiel wakes with a start, one hand reaching for the empty spot on the bed next to him. He inhales and sighs, closing his eyes momentarily. The room is empty, and it has been this way for almost a week. The room seems empty and barren without Dean in it. Castiel can feel the heavy void around him, and he closes his eyes again briefly before getting up.
He runs a hand through his hair, which has really begun to look more like Sam's. He rubs a hand absently across his chin, feeling the small prickling hairs. Without Dean around, Castiel has been relatively lazy where his appearance was concerned. He shrugs and figures he should at least shower though, before going to make some food for himself.
The bathroom is warm, and the mirror is still foggy. "Sam must have just showered" Castiel mumbles, becoming slightly accustomed to speaking out loud to himself. Sometimes it made himself feel better to hear the sound of something, anything. That was still a human trait he had trouble adjusting to, not being able to hear the many wavelengths of sound.
Castiel grabs a toothbrush, remembering with amusement the chastising he had received from Dean about using his specific toothbrush, and only his. Of course, this meant he had the pink one. He didn't mind, but Dean was amused by this. Castiel wipes at the mirror with his hand, and looks at himself for a moment and grimaces.
He really did look terrible. There were dark circles underneath his eyes and his hair stuck out in all directions, hanging over the tops of his ears. His shadow of a beard made him appear more gaunt, a darkness covering his jawline. This was why he hated mirrors. He sneers at his own reflection before hurridly rinsing his toothbrush and hopping into the shower.
The water is warm and soothing. This was a human luxury that Castiel did not immediately despise. He found that he could let his mind wander more easily while showering. The blue tiles are calming, as steam fills the room. Even the overhead light becomes less piercing and loses the annoyingly yellow hue. Castiel sighs and tips his hair back into the water, pressing one arm against the shower wall.
This uncertainty was tearing at his mind, his heart. The image in the mirror was just another physical reminder of his torment. Castiel shakes his head, watching water droplets splatter across the shower door. His mind wanders back to their kiss. The free smile on Dean's face, and the warm feeling that had spread like wildfire through his body. The reminder still brings a rush of blood to his cheeks, and a small sad smile. The moment had been so sweet, so perfect. Their night had been so tender, and Castiel had never felt so safe. He had wrapped his arms around Dean, and they just slept.
Castiel balls his hands into fists as tears spring to his eyes. "Why?" he whispers, his own small prayer. Dean had been cold the next morning, and extremely distant. He had been out of bed and dressed by the time Castiel awoke. A bag slung over his shoulder, and his eyes a foreign green. His face was immovable, impervious, and unforgiving. No hint of emotion what-so-ever.
"Hey man, uh, Garth needs help with a hunt and umm...I'm heading out" Dean said, unable to bring his eyes to meet Castiel's.
"Oh."
"Later."
"Wait, Dean, for how long?" Castiel asks, squinting his eyes as they adjust to the light.
"No clue" he said with a shrug as he walked out the door.
Taking a deep breath, Castiel tries to remind himself to keep breathing and not get upset.
"Yeah right" he says again out loud, with a small laugh. His eyes are already filling with tears. He runs his hands through his hair, washing with the shampoo that reminded him so much of Dean. He hates that every moment of his life is intertwined with Dean. This invisible rope that has them tied together. The rope that was apparently long enough to let them keep running from each other.
The worst part had been the small note left on the dresser, in scribbled writing that Dean had hurriedly left behind for Cas.
"Going on a hunt. Back whenever"
Castiel hadn't found that until later, but it felt like a knife to his heart. If he hadn't woken to see Dean sneaking out the door, that would have been the only explanation. This is what lingered on his mind, day and night. When the darkness of the night was suffocating and the loneliness unbearable. That short scribbled note. Castiel had read it over and over, trying to figure out why it was so painful.
Now he knew why. It was the ease with which Dean had tossed him aside.
"Fuck", Castiel says as he absently drops the bar of soap onto his foot. The water is luke-warm by now and he is tired of thinking about Dean. He rolls his eyes as the top of his foot throbs in pain. Castiel really hates this part of being human.
Castiel finds Sam in the living area, typing away at his laptop as usual. Sam smiles lazily at Castiel before going back to his typing.
"What are you typing?" Castiel asks, partly out of curiosity and party from boredom. He was still on semi-lockdown (per Dean's orders), and the Winchester bat-cave would feel more like a prison if it wasn't for its extensive library.
Sam grins at Cas, "I'm doing my own journal of things, kind of a collection of our hunts and monsters, like my dad did but...online".
Castiel nods, smiling in return. "Sounds cool, let me know if I can help in any way".
"Sure thing, man" Sam says, his eyes glued to his computer screen again, fingers typing furiously.
Castiel reaches for the biology textbook he had been reading the night before. Biology, the study of life. No wonder he enjoys this book so much. He wasn't able to read as quickly as before, but he was still a fairly fast reader and his retention for information was still impeccable. He had found that the library here contained all sorts of books. It was a treasure-trove of data, a direct map about the human existence.
Science books are Castiel's favorite. The mostly irrefutable facts that humans had discovered over time. It was and still is beautiful. The story of evolution brings a smile to his face. Sometimes his previous life seemed like a distance past, a life of someone else. The old memories that are rust-colored in his own mind, as if through old lenses. He had been a statue, a force that only watched but never moved. It was hard to believe that had been his life.
His eyes skim the words on the page in front of him. Cellular functions, Sodium, Potassium, and ATP. His mind registers these things, but he has already begun to drift off into memories of his past. He sadly recalls his brothers and sisters, who were with him. Castiel grits his teeth slightly and closes his book. Today is not his day obviously. He feels haunted by the ghosts of his mind, his past and his present. Running a hand through his hair, he sighs.
"You okay, Cas?" Sam asks, always the perceptive Winchester.
"I don't know, Sam. I'm...confused."
"About Dean?" Sam says, straight faced and serious.
Castiel's eyes widen in surprise. He hates lying, and he is awful at it. However, he knows this is a conversation that Dean would abhor and that he shouldn't be discussing this with Sam. No, Dean would probably hurl a book at them both if he knew about this...maybe a knife.
"I-I don't know what you mean. Not about him, no." Castiel says, his eyes roaming upwards towards the ceiling.
"Come on man, I know" Sam says, a hint of annoyance in his voice.
Castiel remains silent, and runs his hand through his messy hair. Sam sighs loudly.
"Alright, you don't wanna say anything. That's fine. I just wanna let you know that Dean will come around. He's dumb, irrational, and he can't handle his own feelings but he cares. So stop moping."
"Moping!" Castiel says in surprise. He pouts his lips slightly and folds his arms, making a stereotypically Dean expression. "I was not."
"Cas, dude, you look like you haven't slept all week. You look awful."
Castiel nods slowly in agreement, "that's true".
"I'm just sayin' that Dean looks at you the same way that I used to look at Jess. I'm not an idiot and it doesn't take a genius to figure it out." Sam has closed his laptop now and is looking directly at Castiel, his face wearing a small smile.
"Do you still think about her?" Castiel asks, attempting to shift the conversation elsewhere. It is a bit selfish, but Castiel feels more comfortable talking to others about their problems rather than his own. Somewhere in the back of his mind he thinks that this is something he shares in common with Dean, and that is probably unhelpful for either of them.
Sam looks down at his hands. "You know, sometimes I kind of forget that part of my life. Then I'll hear a song, or see someone on the street who has her same hair and it just kind hits me right here" Sam says, motioning to his chest. He shakes his head and laughs a little, "it is always the dumbest thing too, like hearing the worst song by Mariah Carey, and then I'll remember driving with Jess in her car and the way she would sing along".
Castiel looks down at his hands. Sometimes it is nice to speak with someone who is so open about their emotions. He used to think of Sam as an abomination, an annoyance. Sam was tied to Dean, so it was a package deal. Sam who drank demons blood and broke the last seal. Now here they are, and Castiel can only see Sam as a very close friend, who has the best intentions.
"I wish things had been different for you, Sam", Castiel says sincerely, locking eyes with Sam.
"I know. I figured out a long time ago though, to do the best with what I have. I'm lucky to still have Dean around...and you too Cas", he says with a smile.
Castiel smiles back, marveling once again at the strength in humans. Angels and demons had it all wrong. Leviathans too, Castiel thinks quickly.
Castiel lifts his eyes from his book as he hears the familiar sound of the impala outside. He looks at Sam across the table and lifts and eyebrow.
Dean saunters in the door, pausing briefly to throw his bag onto a chair. His eyes meet Castiel's for a moment before traveling to Sam.
"Hey..." he says, a little too loudly and awkwardly.
"Hello, Dean" Castiel returns as Sam stays silent. He keeps his eyes on the words on the page in front of him, letters swimming in his vision.
Dean walks forward, and puts his hand on Castiel's shoulder. "You forget how to shave?" he asks jokingly.
Sam clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable. "How'd the hunt go?"
"Wendigo in Wisconsin...got a little hairy but we iced him"
Castiel allows his eyes to wander from his book. Dean is favoring one foot more than the other. His hands are both wrapped in bandages, and he has several fresh cuts on his face and blood smeared on his neck that doesn't appear to be his. The blood is dry, but no more than a day old. Castiel's heart leaps a little at the thought of Dean rushing back, barely taking time to clean himself off. Dean is still facing Sam, but his hand hasn't left Castiel's shoulder.
Their conversation passes by Castiel too quickly, as he is busy watching Dean. He notices now that Dean's jacket is torn in several places, large gaping holes near the back. For a moment he imagines Dean's back, covered in cuts and bruises. Castiel furrows his brows and sighs a little.
Dean squeezes Castiel's shoulder and finally looks at him. Their eyes meet and Castiel can feel his world begin to spin again.
"We gotta talk." Dean says, before looking at Sam. "If you don't mind, we're gonna head out for a bit" he says, tilting his head towards the door. Castiel watches as unspoken words flow between them, as usual. Sam nods and grabs his computer, sauntering off towards his bedroom.