Chapter Six

Cas perched uncomfortably on the edge of the couch, fingers curled around the cold beer Dean had offered him, trying to find a way to talk around the lump in his throat.

"Say something."

Cas looked up at Dean and immediately dropped his gaze again.

"Anything," Dean stressed. He was sitting on the other side of the couch, keeping a respectful distance between them, but he was leaning forward unconsciously and his hand kept twitching, like he wanted to reach out and touch.

Cas wanted him to. He wished he could just close his eyes and pretend this was any other day. They would turn the television on quietly in the background and Dean would slip his arm around him and Cas would curl into his side and they would sit like that for hours. Sometimes Dean would feed him popcorn. Sometimes he would put on silly voices and do bad lip-reads of the cartoon characters. Sometimes he would gently card his fingers through Castiel's hair. Sometimes he would press gentle kisses to his forehead. Sometimes Cas would fall asleep in his arms and Dean would still be there when he woke up. He would say "Good morning, sunshine", and Cas would smile and they would spend long, luxurious minutes kissing before finally deciding they should get up to start the day.

But that was the old Dean.

The Dean sitting across from him now didn't remember any of that.

"I don't know what to say," he admitted.

"Start with something simple," Dean suggested. "Your name is Castiel. What's your surname?"

The corner of his lips lifted in a half-hearted smile. "Winchester."

"You took mine?"

Cas decided not to try to explain that he didn't have one of his own. "Yes." Dean had wanted him to know for sure that he was a part of their family.

"How long have we known each other?"

If felt like Cas had known Dean all his life. He might have existed for millennia, but until he had met Dean Winchester he hadn't truly lived. "Almost a decade."

"How long have we been married?"

"A little over a year." But they had been separated for most of that time. Dean had disappeared four months after their wedding. Their anniversary had passed while Dean was still in the hospital; he had spent the day struggling through physical therapy while Cas drowned his sorrows at a local bar.

Dean's eyes were shining, eager. "How did we meet? Sam said you 'helped me out of a tight spot' – but it wasn't a bar fight, was it? What really happened?"

I gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition.

But he couldn't say that. He couldn't tell Dean that he had gone to Hell for 40 years and an angel had been sent to drag him out. Dean didn't remember being tortured on the rack, or getting off the rack to torture souls in turn. He had been released from the burden of those memories and Cas couldn't be responsible for making him remember.

"Dean, I'm sorry." Cas set his untouched beer on the coffee table and stood. "This was a mistake. I should go."

"Hey!" Dean caught his hand and attempted to tug him back down onto the couch. Cas resisted, trying not to think about how much easier it was now than it would have been before Dean's abduction. "You can't bail on me," Dean protested. "You promised to stay."

"I can't give you what you want. I can't tell you everything you want to know. If you keep asking me questions, I'm going to have to lie to you and I can't do that."

"So don't lie. Just – change the subject. Tell me something different."

Reluctantly, Cas sat back down. "You call your car 'Baby'."

Dean blinked at him. "Okay. I was sort of hoping for something about us, though."

Cas didn't want to risk it. So much of their relationship was twisted up in hunting and monsters; their first kiss had been after a Wendigo had nearly killed him. Dean had been about to perform CPR when Cas had suddenly woken up to find Dean's face inches from his own. Neither of them could remember afterwards who had moved first, but they had kissed like the world was ending. And then Cas had spent the next two days in hospital with a concussion and Dean had sat by his bedside, fretting and fussing over him. It was a memory filled with pain and fear, and it was also one of the best moments of Castiel's life. But he couldn't share it with Dean.

"Come on, Castiel, you gotta give me something."

He thought long and hard, and finally came up with a harmless memory. "We went to a drive-in movie once. We watched the first twenty minutes and after that we became somewhat… distracted. I still don't know how that movie ends."

Dean burst out laughing.

It was the first time Cas had heard him laugh since he was taken. Dean's full-belly laugh was a rare and precious thing – it was reserved for times like when Cas got them kicked out of a brothel, or when Dean successfully pulled a prank on his brother, or when he was watching ridiculous comedy sketches on YouTube at two in the morning. Cas had missed that sound.

"Dude, are you – crying?"

"No," Cas said roughly.

The look Dean gave him was far too knowing, far too eerily similar to the way he used to look at him before he lost his memory.

It hurt, like a stabbing pain deep in his gut. It hurt because this wasn't Dean. The man in front of him looked like Dean, sounded like Dean, laughed like Dean. But he wasn't the same person. Dean was layers of grief and revenge and loyalty and ruthlessness and anger and fear and determination and selflessness and sacrifice and sarcasm and heroism and humour and love. He was the sum of his experiences and his choices.

This man was a blank slate. The outer shell of the man Cas loved, with nothing of his substance.

It wasn't his fault, but it hurt to look at him. It hurt to sit with this space between them. It hurt to talk about their life together when the memories were his and not theirs.

It hurt to feel tears welling up in his eyes and to feel unable to let them out because his husband wasn't there to hold him until he could pull himself together again.

Cas pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. When he pulled his hands away, he was wearing his angel mask; a blank face, devoid of emotion.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked.

Cas ignored the question. "It is two thirty in the afternoon, and you spent the morning doing physical labour in the garden. You must be hungry."

Dean's face fell. "You're changing the topic."

"What do you want to eat?"

Dean sighed but didn't force the issue. "I could make us some sandwiches. I think there is a block of cheese and a few slices of ham hiding somewhere among the mounds of vegetables that Sam bought."

"I can assist you."

Dean waved away the offer. "I got it."

Cas sank back into the couch as Dean headed to the kitchen. His casual mention of his brother had reminded Cas that he wasn't supposed to be here. They had agreed that it would be best if Cas distanced himself, but he had failed epically in that regard.

Cas pulled out his phone and opened a new message to Sam.

'My surveillance of Dean was not as covert as I had hoped,' he sent.

A new message buzzed in moments later. 'What happened?'

'Dean confronted me.'

'Does he remember?'

'No. But he worked out that we were married and he's not letting it go.'

'You haven't told him anything, have you?'

'No, of course not.'

There was a long pause. Cas could hear Dean cutting up ingredients in the kitchen and humming a little to himself, just like he had hundreds of times before. For a few seconds, Cas could almost imagine that nothing had changed.

His phone buzzed. 'The longer you spend with him the more likely you are to trigger his memories.'

'I know that.'

'Are you going to stay?'

Cas hesitated. Dean was singing now. He didn't know all the words, but he made up for it by belting out the ones he did know. Cas could picture him swaying his hips in time with the music. Cas had walked in on him dancing in the kitchen a few times and Dean would just throw a wink over his shoulder and dance more suggestively until Cas gave in and joined him.

They might never have that again.

But even so… 'I can't leave,' he answered finally.

Sam's response was a long time coming. 'I get it. Just be careful, Cas. Don't hurt him.' A second message came through straight after. 'And don't let him hurt you.'

"Grub's up!" Dean called.

Heart heavy, Cas sent off his reply and slipped the phone into his pocket. He went to join Dean at the table and kept his face impassive as Dean bit into his food with relish, moaning appreciatively at the taste just like he used to.

'I'll do my best,' he'd said. But he feared he was already lost.

ooOOoo