Feeling better had lasted only so long and it only made sense that as the day grew older that Dean had found himself getting uneasy at the thought of returning to work.
Having sat for three days with nothing much to do beside clean and sit in his thoughts left him feeling several different ways that he wasn't entirely sure he was comfortable exploring.
He did his brotherly duties just this morning to fix the stress on his relationship with Sam, the tension and strain fading away through their breakfast. Sam accepted his meager apology for being such an ass about the whole thing and let it slide without further question. Shortly after finishing his omelet, his brother had to get ready and leave for work, waving with a quick bye as he slipped his shoes on at the door. Dean didn't know why he even bothered to take his shoes off at the door, he tromped around the place all the time in his shoes. He didn't care, floors were meant to be walked on and if he was walking with a pair of shoes on his feet then so be it. He didn't like cold floors on his feet, especially when waking up in the morning(late afternoon) and having to trudge around half-asleep.
After Sam had left the house, Dean made himself useful by washing the dishes methodically and putting everything away. He even wiped the table down and decided to just go ahead and give the whole place a once over before heading back to bed to catch some z's for work that night. If he was being completely honest with himself, he was hoping for one of his weirdo dreams to come back and show him that he and Castiel still shared that strange bond he had mentioned.
Imagine his disappointment when he woke up a few hours later to find that he slept without even a hint of a dream and soundly the entire time. From the moment his eyes opened his mind went on a straight path to Cas, the damn dude dominated his thoughts every moment until he got to work.
He mainly tried to focus on what would happen when he got to work. Would he be there? Would they have moved him to a location that could carefully contain him? Would Dean even see him? Or, if he was still there, would Dean be stuck cleaning an empty lab? Forced to look at an empty tank in the middle of the room and remember nights when he could talk about anything and everything and laugh at the experiments odd way of communication?
Dean wasn't sure he could stop himself from looking around for the experiment if that was the case. The little(actually quite big) guy really grew on him, and yeah, their first real conversation wasn't the most ideal but he didn't care. He considered the guy his friend, on some strange level.
Dean was absolutely positive that in another life they would have been the very best of friends, laughing with each other and making fools of themselves as they acted like goofballs because Dean wouldn't have to act all big and bad, Castiel as his best friend would already know how he really way.
He decided that no matter if he saw Samandriel or Chuck that his focus for tonight would be to make sure the experiment was alright. The two of them weren't even his concern because in all honesty they were probably just doing their jobs and what they were supposed to do and he couldn't really fault them for that. He could be angry at how everything turned out, though. It was bullshit that it had to happen that way. But, that wasn't what he was worried about for tonight.
He was worried about his next interaction with Castiel. Would it be a negative experience? Would it be a positive one?
As he pulled into the parking lot, he took note that everything looked exactly the same. He wasn't sure what he was expecting after the way everything ended a few days ago, maybe some small difference? But from the outside, everything looked just the same. Bland. Business-like to a painful degree. It was a cardboard cut-out of a professional looking landscape that was just enough to look well manicured but not enough to look warming or welcoming in any way. Dean shut the door to his Impala and took quick strides up to the door, determined to see this night through no matter what happened.
He was going to get answers tonight, even if it didn't exactly end well for him because, hey, isn't Cas some strange experiment with unknown powers? What if Dean pissed him off and he decided he wasn't even worth the air he breathed and vaporized him on spot? He let out a slightly nervous chuckle at that thought because it was entirely possible that that could happen, Dean was an expert at pissing people off.
He entered the cool building without a glance back.
Everything looked the same, white everywhere so bright it was almost unnatural how pristine it was. The only difference was that there was what looked like a guard at the entrance to the main hall that lead to each of the wings. That was new, maybe they thought Castiel was really that much of a danger that they needed to up the security. Dean shrugged and made his way past the stoic man to the supply closet. He grabbed his cart and checked that he had enough of all his supplies, donned his jumpsuit and made his way to Thursday. He was grateful that his cart and everything on it had been left untouched and he was able to find everything just as he left it a few days ago, plus a list for the new codes to the doors. He was worried that when it was returned that they would have cleaned it off.
The first thing he noticed while walking down that hall was that now, before every entrance to every wing, were two guards stationed on either sides of the doors. That was very, very new.
What had happened while he was away to cause that to happen? He wasn't so sure that Castiel was the one to cause so many guards to be placed everywhere.
He nodded his head to the burly men in black at the entrance to Thursday and punched in his code, waiting for a few seconds as it registered and the doors opened for him.
It was like stepping into another wing completely compared to the way he remembered it.
Everything was still stainless steel, still tables and desks and chairs at the front of the room. Castiel's tank was gone, the eerie light that had bathed the room in a light blue was gone as well. Now it was bright, like the rest of the building. The room was just as cold as he remembered it, though. But it was the giant pane of thick glass now blocking off literally half of the humongous area that caught his attention and held it.
The doors closed behind him and he stepped further into the room, down the few steps to stand among the desks and tables to really take in what he saw before him.
The glass was thick, very, very thick. It had to have been at least a good five inches. He swallowed as he took in the area behind the glass. White. Everything was white. What was with this damned place and the color white? It felt like being in a hospital, a fucked up, seriously wrong hospital that grew people in fish tanks and locked them in giant rooms. There was a small bed, expertly made and seemingly untouched in one corner. There was also a toilet and a sink, a small table and only one chair. Nothing else. It was impersonal, cold, and so, so upsetting that Dean found his stomach clenching painfully in his midsection.
Standing just off to the side of that small table was Castiel, and man, did he look different.
Large blue, blue eyes stared into his, looking nothing like the other night that he was almost taken aback. They were hard, closed off and looked so very wrong to Dean. When he first caught hat gaze they were deep, brimming with unknown emotion. He stood up straight, posture stiff in the way he held himself. He stood like a soldier, tense and waiting for something to happen. Which was seven kinds of fucked up because he was just a little fish dude floating in a tank a few nights ago. He wore loose fitting scrubs, white of course, and large white slip-ons on his feet. They were clearly too big for him. His black hair was tousled messily, thick and looking like curious hands roamed all through it only moments before he walked in the door.
His throat felt tight, his stomach rolling in knots uncomfortably. He knew it was wrong, he knew Castiel wasn't meant to be locked up in some pristine prison behind glass. He didn't even want to think about how everyone treated him. Did they speak to him? More importantly, did they treat him like a person or just like a number? He supposed the latter. Did they feed him? Did he even need to eat? Were they cruel to him? Did they hurt him?
Dean was surprised with how upset he was getting at seeing Castiel like this. Yeah, that in itself was weird as hell because he honestly didn't even know the guy but he felt like he did, deep down on some unconscious level, and that was good enough for him. It felt second-nature to be worried and protective of the experiment. Dean always trusted his gut and right now, his gut was screaming at him how wrong this entire situation was.
But Dean never vocalized any of his thoughts or emotions out loud.
He couldn't escape that dead stare, it started to really bother him. Those eyes weren't supposed to be empty. Just what happened over the past few days?
He'd never let Castiel know he was worried, let him know that he spent the past few nights worried beyond reason that the experiment was hurt, or sometimes not even there anymore.
It was almost too much to be worried and upset, but it was definitely much, much easier to be angry and that was something that Dean was good at. So, Dean was going to be angry. He narrowed his eyes in a nasty glare at Castiel, not at all surprised when there was a lack of reaction.
He clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth, just behind his front teeth and turned around to head back to his cart and grab his shit.
He set to work cleaning, almost rough in the way he'd basically toss the papers aside to wipe beneath them. Everything went in neat piles, unused beakers and test tubes were wiped down and placed neatly in their respective spots. As usual, he always saved the large desk in the room for last, as that always had the most papers on it and it always took longer to sort through everything. He was positive that if Sam had been the one in his position, he would have spent hours just looking through all of the papers. He would understand all of the technical jargon because he was such a big nerd and big nerds spoke the same language. Dean snorted, it made perfect sense in his head.
He could imagine Sam giving Castiel the third degree, asking him any and every little question that popped into his never slowing mind. He'd be like a kid in a candy shop, where Dean felt like he was in some kind of punishment.
Fucking Cas was still just standing there, watching him like a total creep.
It was different when he was in his fish tank, it was different when he had first woken. It wasn't creepy then, really, to be in the same room with him. Not since he began to understand the way he manipulated the feeling of the room, the weight of the air and know that it was just Castiel, trying to reach out. He missed it, he missed being able to prattle on about nothing in particular while he worked, laughing when he could tell the experiment was confused about something he had said. It had become comfortable for him, he was beginning to enjoy cleaning up that cold, cold wing for he had the warmth of something he could have sworn was akin to friendship.
He and Cas? It was complicated, but he would admit to being at a total loss if he were to cut ties just because some shit went down. Dean Winchester doesn't turn, tuck his tail and run at the first sign of hardship.
He felt his resolve hardening, he would approach Castiel, and he would confront him about what was bothering him. He would do this and if things didn't pan out his way, he'd let sleeping dogs lie.
The Castiel he had first met after the experiment woke up was not the same as this one, he was determined to bring his Cas back.
He turned to face the experiment and found him predictably still watching him. He took a deep breath and large strides toward the thick glass wall.
"What's your problem, huh, Cas?" He began with, his words coming out gruff. "Why won't you say anything to me now? Too good to bother with the janitor anymore?'"
No reaction aside from Castiel staring heavily at him.
"What, you get out of your fish tank and work your land legs and now I'm not good enough for you to interact with? Is that it? Are you too good for a lowly human?" Dean was hitting too close to his own worries with that one.
The corner of Castiel's lips twitched downward in a frown. Finally, a reaction.
"Did you enjoy your little vacation without me? Bet that was nice, huh? Time away from the annoying human?"
Cas' head tilted to the side as if trying to work through what Dean had said before his eyes narrowed threateningly.
"Do not speak of what you do not know." He spoke with his actual mouth that time, not through Dean's mind like last time. His voice was low, rumbly and deep and curled around Dean in a rugged caress. He really, really liked that voice.
"Oh, yeah? Well, it's pretty hard for me to know anything with you, isn't it?" Dean stepped closer to the glass, now only inches away from it and maybe a foot in total from Castiel. "'Cause all I know is what you told me, something about a bond? Guess that was total shit, huh? There is no bond, is there?" That really got a reaction from the experiment.
"I did not lie to you, Dean Winchester." He growled out, entire body tensing as if he was preparing to spring.
"Oh yeah? And how can I believe you?" You came out saying one thing, and now it's a different story to me." Dean shrugged his shoulders, putting off a show of nonchalance. "Whatever, man. I'm not beat for this shit." He made to turn away from Cas but a thump on the glass caused him to pause and look back.
Cas' fist was on the glass, and damn, Dean was right about the thickness. How hard did Castiel hit that glass to make that loud of a noise? Just how strong was he? He met the experiment's blue gaze, finding the ice melting away with emotions. Once again that blue gaze was deep, not shallow and cut off.
"You do not understand, Dean." Came the low statement.
"Then make me understand, Cas. I ain't gonna know shit if you don't fill me in." It had worked, his goading and his harsh words had worked to bring to the surface the experiment he had met a few nights ago before Samandriel had ruined everything.
Cas seemed to hesitate before pressing his lips together.
"There is much I can not explain to you right now." Dean opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by that deep voice again. "There are too many prying minds here."
Dean glanced around with furrowed brows. "Uh, Cas, I'm pretty sure we are the only ones in here."
Pink lips pressed together as deep blue looked past him to the door.
"All will be made clear, Dean." Castiel said with an air of finality.
Great, Dean thought, now he'll have to wait even longer. But honestly, he didn't mind it. He had broken through that stony exterior and brought back the experiment that he had first seen when it had awoken.
"So, Cas, how's life?" Dean said instead, changing the subject. He wouldn't dwell on the fact that the experiment had never let him know exactly when he would let him know what was up.
"Life?" He tilted his head to the side. "Life is, as it ever will be, the diametrical opposite of death." He deadpanned seriously.
"That's not what I meant." Dean mentally face-palmed. Damn, this guy was literal. "Let me work, we can chat again during lunch."
Dean turned away from the experiment, heading back to the desk and continuing to tidy up and wipe down. This shit got real messy while he was away, fucking science geeks not able to even put papers where they gotta go by themselves.
So, Castiel would tell him everything. He didn't know when, he didn't even know if it would be here or in his head or anything, but he did have his word that he would tell him. Honestly, that put a light reassurance on Dean's mind.
He would speak with Cas again, and it wouldn't be about some dumb shit. He would finally know what actually went down the past three days and what had happened to the experiment. He felt better. He had been dreading returning to work that afternoon as evening approached but he found that all of his worries were pretty ridiculous. He hadn't run into anyone and Castiel was speaking to him. They broke the metaphorical ice.
Dean had a lot of questions, there was a lot to learn. Sam would have been in heaven.