Chapter Thirty-Two

It was a dramatic scene. There was a body on the floor lying in a pool of blood. Dean's gun was trailing smoke. Sam had a spectacularly broken nose, and Cas was stark naked.

"We should find you some clothes," Dean said.

Cas blinked. After the intensity of the past 24 hours, it probably seemed like an odd come-down. "It is likely that mine are around here somewhere."

"You guys have a look around. I'll dispose of - this." Sam gestured to the body.

Dean and Cas went to search the house for something Cas could wear while Sam dragged the body out the back door.

Dean steadfastly ignored the pictures on the wall of a young newly-wed couple, happy and smiling at the camera, looking forward to a bright future together.

He found Castiel's clothes in the bedroom.

"Here they are," Dean said. They had been folded neatly and put away in the cupboard. "Right next to mine." They were the clothes he had been wearing on his last hunt, still scuffed with dirt and stained with sweat. He must have looked a fright, that evening at the bar. "Strange sort of trophy." He pulled out Castiel's clothes and handed them to him. "Here you go. Should probably just burn mine."

Cas accepted the pile, but he made no move to put them on. "Dean?"

"Yeah, Cas?"

Cas was doing that head-tilt thing of his and his blue eyes were filled with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Fine. You should get dressed. You'll catch a cold."

Cas put his shirt on first, covering the burn wounds. Dean was relieved to notice that there were no other injuries, aside from the thin line at his neck and the angry swelling where Jeremy's hands had not been gentle. Cas pulled his shorts on gingerly, trying not to wince. The pants were more of a struggle.

"I'm going to go mop up the blood in the kitchen," Dean said. "Find something to barricade the basement with, would you?"

Not waiting for an answer, Dean retrieved some cleaning supplies from the laundry and set about removing the evidence of what they had done.

After all, Jeremy had been human, and Dean had just killed him in cold blood.

He lost count of the number of times he rinsed blood and brain matter out of the mop. Distantly, he could hear the sound of Sam digging in the backyard and Cas hammering wooden panels over the basement door. He scrubbed at the tiles until every trace of Jeremy was gone and then he kept scrubbing until the tiles gleamed.

"Dean?"

"He's gone."

Cas frowned a little as he surveyed the spotless state of the kitchen. "Yes. Dean-"

"Is Sam finished?"

"He's finishing now."

"Good. We should get going."

Dean led the way to the car, only to realise that Sam still had the keys. He wanted to ask for them back, but he had a feeling that would be a bad idea.

He loitered awkwardly by the vehicle until Sam showed up, brushing the dirt from his hands.

"Finally. Can we get out of here?"

Sam's brow furrowed. "Everything okay?"

"Peachy."

"Dean…"

"Sam, unlock the damn car so we can get the hell out of dodge."

Sam and Cas exchanged glances.

"Oh for- We came, we saw, we kicked ass."

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

Sam dragged a hand through his hair. "Okay, well, I'm not, and I don't think Cas is either. My nose is broken and Cas should get those burns looked at."

"You're saying we need to go to the hospital."

"Yes."

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay. Great. Good. Let's go, then. You want me to drive?"

Sam hesitated. "No, I've got it."

"Right." Dean had no interest in being dragged into a conversation so he climbed into the back of the car, much to Sam's evident surprise. He was expecting Cas to take the passenger side, but Cas chose the seat next to him instead.

Dean folded his arms and stared out the window as Sam started the car.

They were three miles down the road before Cas spoke. His voice was pitched low so they could talk privately. "Dean?"

"What?" he grumbled.

"Are you going to talk to me?"

"About?"

"You remembered."

"Yeah." He didn't feel elaborating.

"Jeremy-"

Dean flinched at the name.

"-he told me what he did."

Dean closed his eyes and dropped his forehead against the glass. "Awesome."

"Dean…"

"I don't want to talk about this."

"Neither do I. But I think we need to. What Jeremy did to me… it was one of the most unpleasant experiences of my life, and he only had me for a short time. I can't even begin to imagine what you went through."

Dean knew he should have been checking that Cas was okay, debriefing him on the traumatic experience, offering comfort. But everything was too close to the surface. His own ordeal might have ended months ago, but it was fresh in his mind, like it had just happened yesterday. He couldn't deal with that, and he couldn't talk about it either. "No, you can't. And I don't want you to. I'd rather you just forget the whole thing."

"That didn't work out so well for you."

Dean clenched his fists and kept his gaze fixed resolutely on a smudge marring the window. "The son of a bitch is dead now. It's going to be clear sailing from here on out." The lie tasted like ashes on his tongue.

"No, it won't. But we can make it through this, Dean. You just have to let me in."

"That isn't a good idea. Up here, right now-" he tapped his head "-it's an ugly mess. You don't want any part of that."

"Yes, I do. That's what I signed up for when I married you, Dean."

"You married a different guy. I'm not him anymore. I don't know who I am."

"You're Dean Winchester. Your experiences may have changed you, but that's true of every single person on the planet. You're still the man I fell in love with. And no matter what you've been through, what horrors you suffered, my feelings for you haven't changed. They will never change."

"Cas, you don't know-"

"I do. I know what happened, and I know that the thought of Jeremy sending me those photos was what tipped you over the edge. You thought that once I knew, I wouldn't love you anymore."

Tears welled up in his eyes. "You can't."

"Dean, you saw Jeremy touch me. Do you hate me for it?"

"You were chained up."

"So were you."

The tears spilled over; he couldn't stop them. "No. I wasn't. He trained me to kneel for him. He made me eat slop from a dog bowl. I did what he wanted because I didn't want him to hurt me anymore. And when he – did that – I didn't fight him. He was gentle, and he said if I resisted he would have to get rough, so I just- I let him. I let him, and he made it feel good, and I-" His voice broke. He drew his knees up and hunched against the car door, trying to make himself as small as possible. Sobs were hitching in his throat even as he tried to contain them and he knew his shoulders were shaking but he couldn't stop.

"Dean…"

"You hate me. You have to hate me."

"No, Dean. I could never hate you, especially not for something that was out of your control."

"But I just told you-"

"Jeremy tortured you for seven months."

"I've had worse. I made it thirty years last time. Seven months is nothing. He shouldn't have been able to break me."

"Dean, it was seven months, added onto the 40 years you spent in Hell, the year you spent in Purgatory, and the life time on Earth that you have spent being beaten down, wounded and even killed by all manner of demons and monsters. You always crammed the pain deep down inside you and drowned it in alcohol in the hopes that it would go away, but you have carried it with you. Jeremy… he was just the straw that broke the camel's back. You were not weak. Your incredible strength just reached its limit. That is not your fault."

"Even if that were true… I'm broken now."

"In Japanese culture, broken pottery would be repaired with gold. They did not see breakage as the end, it was simply an event in the life of the object. After it had been tenderly pieced back together with the loving care of a craftsman, it would be seen as all the more beautiful for what it had been through."

"That's poetic, Cas, but I'm not a piece of pottery."

"No, you're human. Just as susceptible to knocks and injury, but far more valuable. I know Jeremy hurt you. But if you let me, I'll pick up the pieces and help put you back together again."

"That won't be easy."

"Nothing worth doing ever is. But I would never give up on you, Dean. I think you know that."

Dean glanced down at the ring on his finger. "For better or for worse, huh?"

Cas took his hand and gently tugged so that Dean turned around to face him. "From now into eternity. We made that promise in front of our family, and friends, and God himself. I intend to keep it. What about you?"

"If you'll have me…"

"I couldn't imagine my life without you. Whatever happened in the past, and whatever our future holds, I'm yours and you are mine. We're going to get through this, Dean. You have to trust me."

Dean remembered Cas saying those words to him, that first day when Dean had confronted him in the alley. At the time, Dean had said he didn't trust him, because Cas had been as good as a stranger despite the twin wedding bands they wore.

Now he answered without hesitation. "I trust you, Cas."

Cas smiled at him. "Good. Then we'll be fine." His gaze flicked to Dean's lips, but he didn't lean forward.

Dean didn't want to stay broken forever, and he didn't want to let what had happened with Jeremy damage what he had with Cas. They had fought too long and too hard to be together.

Besides, Dean loved kissing.

So he snagged the front of Castiel's shirt and pulled him closer.

"Are you sure?" Cas asked.

Dean smiled. "Yeah, Cas. Kiss me."

ooOOoo