Chapter Text
“This is taking too fucking long.”
Sam shoots Dean an annoyed look, but Dean doesn’t even care about it. Pacing around in the library, his eyes are fixed on the point where a few hours ago Jack opened a portal and then disappeared in what happens to be impenetrable darkness. Since then - nothing has happened. Not a shift of power. Not an attack of monsters or cosmic beings. Just…nothing.
Dean hates waiting. He can’t handle waiting. He’d much rather be at the other side of the portal now, fighting tooth and nail to get through the Empty and find who he’s looking for, but according to Jack, he couldn’t go with him, because human souls are not able to exist in the Empty.
Like Dean cares.
Since when is he playing by the rules?
“Dean, have some trust in Jack”, Sam interrupts his pacing, much calmer than Dean likes it, because how the fuck can he stay so calm? If this goes wrong, if Jack isn’t able to get to Cas in the Empty, then this is the end. Everything will be lost then.
Or maybe it just feels like it for Dean.
He clenches his fists and continues his path through the library.
“This is not a trust-thing and you know that”, he grunts between his teeth, “I do trust the kid, but this thing…this place, this is something…and we don’t know yet how similar Jack’s powers are to Chucks, what if he doesn’t make it.”
“Then we’ll find another way.”
The way Sam says that, so sure about it, should be comforting. It just makes Dean’s skin itch. He doesn’t answer, just goes back to pacing between the tables and looking at his watch every other minute.
The truth is, he trusts Jack, he really does. Kid has proved more than once that he has the heart in the right place and now, with all the extra power he consumed, he probably should be able to pluck Cas out of the Empty and back into the bunker without breaking a sweat.
But it just seems too good to be true.
It’s been just a few days since they defeated Chuck. Since they left him in the dust, begging and crying like the pathetic bastard he is. Since they got their freedom back and broke through the narrative of Chuck’s perverted little favorite show and the world shifted back into balance, thanks to Jack.
So yeah, sue Dean for doubting that getting Cas back would be so easy. That this would be a fight without sacrifices. Because that’s what always happened, right? They defeated the Big Bad, but they always lose someone on the way. Why should this be different?
And it kinda made sense, that the ultimate sacrifice against their own personal Endboss would be Cas. Of course it would be the one person Dean couldn’t bear to lose again.
“Look, why don’t you use the time and, I don’t know. Get rid of that dead animal on your face”, Sam interrupts his thoughts and gestures towards Dean’s face, “You will walk a trench into the floor if you won’t calm down.”
“I’m calm”, Dean snaps and rubs his hand over his chin, over the patches of hair he didn’t care to shave off during the last days where he hid in his room, only his laptop with the security tape of the dungeon and several bottles of Jack Daniels keeping him company. There is no way he would move even an inch out of the library, not before Jack would be back, with or without Cas.
He just doesn’t know how long he’s able to wait until he will find a way to rip the structure of the universe apart and follow Jack.
Sam looks up from the book he’s reading, the stupid, calm bastard, and he’s just about to say something, probably to make another rude comment about Dean’s facial hair, but instead his eyes get wide and the book falls on the table with a loud thumb .
Dean swirls around, just in time to hear that sloppy noise that haunts him in his nightmares and to see a black hole forming mid-air where it stays, wobbling and leaking black goo. Sam jumps from his chair so fast that it crashes backwards on the ground and grabs Dean’s arm just in time before Dean can jump forward into the rift. He doesn’t even realize that this was his first instinct until Sam holds him back and he doesn’t even get to fight against the grip, because in this moment the goo makes a gurgling sound and spits out two figures, before it shrinks and disappears again. The two men crash into the ground and Dean rips his arm out of Sam’s hand.
He probably busts his knees open when he drops to the ground hard and fast, his hands grabbing on shoulders that are covered in a tan trench coat and he pulls Cas against his chest. For a moment, a second, he feels like he can breathe again, like the dark shadow around his soul has lifted that has been there since the goo appeared in the dungeon and swallowed Cas without leaving even a trace of him behind.
That is until Cas makes a sound deep back in his throat, high and full of terror and he pushes Dean away from him with enough force that Dean falls backwards right on his ass. The movement surprises Dean enough that he doesn’t even curse, not even when he sees Cas stumbling to his feet, the flash of an angel blade and the haunted look in Cas’s eyes. If it weren’t for Jack’s hand closing around Cas’s wrist just in time, Dean would have just let Cas stab him.
But lucky for him, Jack’s voice seems to get through to Cas and he blinks rapidly, his chest heaving hard and way too fast for a creature that doesn’t need to breathe. His eyes come back to focus and the first thing they do is to land on Dean on the floor who still stares at Cas with an open mouth, because god damnit , that wasn’t the reunion he thought it would be.
“Dean”, Cas breathes out. The silver gleaming blade falls to the ground, loud enough that Dean winces and for a moment he has a flashback of another time Cas hovered over him with a raised blade, in a dark crypt with blood dripping from his face.
That this situation is not even close to what happened back then is proven quickly when this time Cas drops to his knees and throws his arms around Dean’s shoulders. He practically sags against Dean’s body, full weight leaning against him and it’s more automatism than anything else when Dean wraps his arms around him again.
Scent memory hits him hard when he buries his face in Cas’s hair, not giving one single fuck that they are not alone in the room, that Sam is probably watching him losing it right now. Cas doesn’t seem to care about this either with the way his fingers dig deeply into Dean’s skin, hard enough that the blunt pressure hurts.
Fuck , Dean is mad at him. Has been the whole freaking time. Has been since the moment he realized what Cas was about to do, back in the dungeon, back when Death was banging at the door. Mad. Scared. Overwhelmed. Heartbroken. All at once.
And still, he can’t let go now. Not when Cas clings to him in such a desperate way. He can scream at him later. Right now, Dean just tightens his arms and he is sure he and Cas would stay on the floor like that for a long, long time if it wouldn’t be for Sam’s voice coming through the haze in his brain.
“Jesus, Dean, let him breathe.”
Part of Dean wants to snap at Sam to fuck off, but the words seem to reach Cas first, because he pulls back abruptly and leans away from Dean, leaving him dumbstrucked on the ground for the second time in minutes.
Cas doesn’t meet his eyes when he rubs his hand over his face. His eyes are still red and swollen, like no time has passed between the Empty getting him and his arrival back in the bunker. Who knows, maybe it didn’t. Maybe time works differently over there.
“My apologies”, Cas mumbles towards the ground, “I didn’t mean to…”
What he doesn’t mean to Dean won’t hear, because he interrupts Cas with a sharp inhale and scrambles forwards, his heart suddenly roaring in his ears. There is blood on Cas’s shirt, soaking into the white collar, fresh and blooming red blood.
“You’re hurt”, he croaks, hands already coming up to cup Cas’s neck, tilting his head back a bit to see where the blood is coming from and that’s when he discovers the cut right over Cas’s throat. His stomach clenches so hard that for a second Dean is sure he will throw up. He knows what a cut like that means, knows exactly that there is a reason that blood is still dripping from it without any trace of glowing, blueish grace to heal the injury.
“No”, Dean whispers, horrified by the pure thought alone, “No, that’s not how…Jack, what the fuck have you done?”
Still on his knees, Dean looks up at Jack, who’s standing right next to Sam. He notices that Jack is much paler than usual, that his hair is ruffled and his jacket torn and splattered with black goo and blood, but honestly, right now he doesn’t give a shit about Jack’s condition, not when Cas is bleeding all over his shirt. Jack was supposed to fucking fix things!
“Dean”, Sam says, a warning tone in his voice, but it is Cas who steals Dean’s thunder. Backing up from Dean’s hand that is still holding onto his neck, he grinds out between his teeth: “He saved me. That is what he has done. But that wouldn't have been possible without sacrifices.”
A very ugly laugh escapes Dean’s throat.
“God, I have it up to here with you and your goddamn sacrifices, Cas.”
“I see”, Cas replies, his face stone cold, “I suppose that means that my grace is more important than me being alive and back?”
“That’s not what I fucking said! It’s not…” When Cas rises to his feet, Dean does the same, his knees protesting against the abrupt movement, “You shouldn’t have gone there in the first place!” His voice shakes with the sudden rush of anger through his veins, with all the fucking emotions he bottled up over the last days, “All this shit wouldn’t have been necessary if you wouldn’t…if you just for once …”
“I’m not gonna apologize for what I did, Dean.”
This time it is Dean who takes a step back, suddenly very eager to put space between him and Cas. His lungs don't work properly and he clenches his fists hard enough to feel his fingernails digging into the calloused skin of his palms. Cas just follows him with his eyes, leftover traces of tears still on his cheeks. And the memory of his last words is hanging over Dean’s head, causing the air around him to vanish, again , just like in the dungeon when Cas stared at him with so much affection, so much love…
His hip collides with the table when Dean backs up further and he lets out a shallow huff that physically hurts in his chest.
“Yeah. Whatever. Welcome home, I guess.”
He doesn’t look back, not at Sam, not at Jack and especially not at Cas when he leaves the library as fast as he can without running and he just stops when the door of his room shuts behind him.
---
Dean doesn’t leave the safety of his room for dinner. He keeps his growling stomach occupied with some snacks he finds in the drawer of the nightstand and some glasses of good ol’ Jack Daniels. Just once he perks up and nearly opens the door when he hears familiar footsteps from the corridor, the sound of dragging feet that he would recognize everywhere. It’s kinda scary how much he can read Cas’s condition just from the sound of his steps, but on the other hand, they’ve lived together - more or less - for years now. He knows how it sounds when Cas rushes into a battle or when he’s roaming through the bunker as quietly as possible at night time to not wake him or Sam or when he’s exhausted and crashes in the room that is technically his, even if he rarely used it over the years. This, right now, is the last one.
Dean doesn’t move from his position on his bed, but he listens until Cas’s footsteps trail off and a door shuts down the corridor. Just then, he slowly sinks down into the pillow again.
Everything is fine. It is fine .
Cas is back. And honestly, Dean doesn’t give a goddamn shit if he’s human or angel, not at all. The important thing is that he’s alive.
It’s just…
Dean barely allows himself to think about the last time Cas became human. Because that was a fucking disaster and most of it has been his fault. The fact that he sent Cas away after he just watched him dying, just with a little bit of cash and some clothes in a bag, is on his list of Dean Winchester’s Greatest Regrets in the top 3. It has been the first time Cas really fucking needed him and Dean had let him down.
Yeah. He really doesn’t like thinking about that.
Of course this won’t happen again. Quite the opposite. If Cas would try to leave the bunker, Dean is sure that he would drag him back himself if he’d have to.
Except…except Cas doesn’t want to stay.
This thought hits Dean like a brick against the head and it leaves his throat burning. Quickly he fumbles for the bottle next to his bed. Because that is a possibility, right? With Chuck out of the picture, they are free to do whatever they want and now that he’s back, alive and kickin’, that also includes Cas. So, what if he doesn’t want to stay?
But why wouldn’t he? According to his words, Dean is his…his happiness or whatever. He sure wants to stay around, right?
The whiskey just makes the burning in Dean’s throat worse.
Or maybe this goddamn freakin’ love confession is the reason Cas will leave in the end. Dean has never been in love with someone like that, not with the same dedication that Cas poured over him with his words, but he can imagine how much it would hurt to love someone that way and not get anything back.
On the other hand, Cas obviously lived with the knowledge of his feelings for a while now without saying anything. Maybe he has been at peace with it all the time. Maybe it won’t make him leave…
Dean takes a deep breath and fights against the whiskey squirming in his stomach. He’s tired, exhausted to the bones in a way he hasn’t been in years. Not even bothering to change clothes, Dean pulls the sheets over him and buries his face in the pillow.
Everything is fine. Cas is home. Chuck is gone. For once, there is no immediate, apocalyptic threat hanging over their heads. He can rest. Hell, he could sleep for a week, if he wants to.
Ignoring the nervous buzzing under his skin, Dean tries to settle into the comfort of his memory foam and closes his eyes.
Everything is fine.
They are safe.
---
Cas is staring at him, blue eyes full of tears and a smile on his face, wide and honest in a way Dean has never seen him smiling before. He can barely understand the words Cas is saying, blinking helplessly against the onslaught of feelings that build up inside of him. But he needs to listen, because what Cas says is important, maybe the most important thing he ever heard in his life.
Cas takes a shaky breath and his eyes are full of something, something pure and honest and he needs to stop talking. If he doesn’t stop talking, something terrible will happen, Dean just knows it. If he doesn’t stop talking, he will lose Cas. He will lose him all over again.
But Dean can’t tell him to shut the fuck up. He can’t even move. All he can do is to stare at Cas, restrained by invisible chains and with fear drumming under his skin.
Cas opens his mouth, ready to speak up, but before he can get out another word, darkness fills the room so quickly that Dean can’t even scream. It pulls him under, creeps into his mouth and his nose until he can’t breathe anymore and he wants to scream for Cas, wants to fight to get to him, but he can’t, he can’t, he’s drowning, he’s…
Dean wakes up with a sharp gasp that hurts in his lungs and for a second he is disorientated in the darkness of the room. Something is wrapped around his legs and he kicks blindly to get it off of him, his hands fumbling for a weapon, for anything to be able to defend himself. It takes his brain a few seconds to catch up and for his eyes to adjust.
It’s dark in the room, but not as pitch dark as in his dream. There’s light coming from the corridor, shining under his door and that little glimpse of light is enough for Dean to calm down. He steadies himself with both palms on the mattress and finally manages to wriggle his legs out of the sheets that are wrapped around his shins. Then he waits until his heart stops pounding like crazy in his chest and his breathing calms enough that he stops wheezing for air.
Outside the door everything seems quiet. Dean rolls around and searches for his phone that he left somewhere on the mattress before he fell asleep. When he finds it, the sudden glowing from the screen burns in his eyes and just then he realizes how damp his face is.
He checks the time, groaning when he realizes it’s in the middle of the night, and rolls out of the bed to wash the cold sweat ( or the tears ) from his face. The cold water helps a bit to get his head back on track and also to make him aware of how dry his mouth is and how thirsty he is.
The door creaks quietly in the hinges when Dean steps out of the room, hesitating for a moment and listening for any sign of movement. But everything is quiet except for the buzzing of electricity and the soft humming of the air supply hidden behind the thick brick walls. The floor is cool under his feet on his way towards the kitchen, not sure yet if he craves coffee or beer, if he wants to fully wake up or get drunk enough to dull his mind and go back to sleep.
It’s probably the silence that gives him the false sense of security, that makes him sure that no one except him would be awake at this godforsaken hour. That’s why he stops so abruptly that it feels like he just ran into a wall when he steps into the kitchen and discovers that he’s not the only one craving a drink.
Cas raises his head from the steaming mug in front of him when Dean freezes in the door frame and for a few long seconds the world holds its breath when they lock eyes.
Cas looks even more tired than Dean feels. His eyes are red and the bags under them are more prominent than ever. His hair is a hot mess, reminding Dean of the time when Cas was still able to take off any second with just a flick of his wings. The cut on his neck is covered with a white bandage now and he wears different clothes, a gray sweatpants and a black shirt with a hole on the collar, that Dean recognizes as one of his. It makes him look different. It makes him look soft.
Dean likes it a lot.
When Cas doesn’t move, Dean finally extricates himself from the state of mental paralysis and steps into the room.
“Shouldn’t you sleep?”, he breaks the silence and with a sigh, the world starts to breathe again. Cas blinks rapidly, before lowering his eyes on the cup in front of him.
“So should you”, he answers quietly and Dean scoffs.
“Yeah, right.”
He ignores the still steaming pot of what smells like fresh coffee on the counter and instead heads to the fridge to grab a bottle of beer. Then, with a glimpse over his shoulder, he gets a second bottle and puts it in front of Cas, before he sits down on the other side of the table.
Cas ignores the beer, but he looks up through his lashes towards Dean, examining him in such a careful way that it makes Dean itchy all over again.
Over the years, they’ve been through a lot of shit together. Through betrayal and lies and broken trust and more fights than Dean could count. But never, in all these years, Cas has looked at him like that. Like he doesn’t know what to do with Dean in front of him.
In a desperate attempt to break the awkward silence, Dean clears his throat and gestures towards the bandage on Cas’s throat.
“How’s the…?” His voice dies before he can find the right words to finish the question and his hand falls slack back on the table.
Cas doesn’t seem to mind the reminder of his injury. Carefully his fingertips touch the edges of the bandage and he shrugs.
“It stings”, he says roughly, “But it will be fine. Sam said it won’t need stitches.”
Dean nods and takes another sip of his beer, too fast, so that he spills some of it on his shirt. Frowning down at the wet spot, he curses quietly under his breath and glimpses up, just in time to catch the hint of a smile on Cas’s lips. With a huff, Dean tries to ignore the tug in his stomach.
“Why did Jack not take care of it?”, he asks instead, his fingers fiddling with the label of the beer until little white pieces of damp paper stuck on his nails. The smile vanishes from Cas’s face as fast as it appeared.
“I wouldn’t let him.” The lines around his mouth tighten, “We don’t know how similar Jack’s powers are to Chuck’s and he fought hard in the Empty to get me out of there. He doesn’t need to waste anymore power on something unimportant like this injury. Not when it will heal on its own.”
And that, everyone, is exactly why Cas will always be undefeated when it comes to the Dad of the Year title. Of course he would put Jack first, because Jack always comes first for Cas, like every kid should for their parents. Guilt builds up in Dean’s chest and burns in his throat for not even considering that Jack could be weakened from his trip to the Empty.
Quickly he swallows the guilt down with another gulp of beer, well aware that Cas’s eyes haven’t left him yet, watching every movement Dean makes. His neck suddenly feels very hot. He wishes his leg would stop jiggling.
“What happened over there?”, he asks before the silence can get awkward again, “I mean…how do you…”
Cas hums quietly and again, he doesn’t seem bothered by the question.
“It was different this time. I am not sure what exactly happened before the Empty got me, but it was loud in there. Angels and demons were awake and it was a chaos I’ve never experienced before. And of course, the Shadow was furious. I had to hide and run and because of that it took Jack a while to find me. He tried to reason with the Shadow to let me go first, but when it refused, he managed to put it to sleep long enough so that I could extract my grace and leave it there, so the Shadow wouldn’t realize that I’m gone once it’s awake again. After that - we escaped.”
Dean winces a bit.
“Do you think that will bite us in the ass? You said it’s chaos over there, that sounds like something that will come back to us sooner or later.”
Cas sighs, his fingers flexing around the mug.
“I don’t hope so. Jack said he will deal with it once he has rested, but like I said…we don’t know yet how much power he really got from Chuck. He might have godly powers, but that doesn’t mean he is God .”
That makes sense. With a sigh, Dean rubs over his face.
“So, that means, you’re human”, he observes and Cas nods, “And you’re…are you okay with it?”
The ghost of a smile appears on Cas’s lips again and he shrugs with one shoulder, very casually.
“It will be an adjustment, but I will be fine. I think it was something inevitable. My grace was fading anyways. If I wouldn’t have…well, I suppose, it would have happened one way or another.”
If I wouldn’t have died. Dean has to close his eyes. The pain is still there, right in his chest, a hole that hasn't healed yet, not even with Cas right in front of him.
“You can’t keep doing shit like that again, Cas”, Dean whispers towards the bottle in his hands, his voice rough and so vulnerable it makes him cringe internally, “What you did…you can’t keep dying right in front of me. That’s fucked up.”
When he looks up, Cas is still watching him, but his face is hard to read this time.
“Like I said before, Dean”, he says quietly, “I won’t apologize for what I did. You are alive because of the decision I made. If it means that it would save you, I would do it again.”
“Yeah?”, Dean bites between his teeth and his grip tightens around the bottle, hard enough that his fingers shake, “Well, next time you decide to pull a stunt like that, I will be right behind you. Just so you know.”
The words do not miss the desired effect. Cas’s eyes go wide and he puts his mug down hard enough that Dean wonders how it doesn’t break.
“Dean…”
“No”, Dean interrupts him sharply, “You want me alive? Then fucking stay alive. It’s easy like that, Cas. No more sacrifices. Got it?”
He can see the bop of Cas’s throat when he swallows harshly, his lips pressed together so tightly that they are just a thin line.
“Got it”, he finally agrees, the words pressed between his teeth like he would love to argue with Dean about it, but knows that it would be pointless.
“Good”, Dean barks back in the same tone of voice, before he empties his beer and pushes the empty bottle in the corner of the table. He can clean up tomorrow. Pushing himself up from the table, he avoids Cas’s eyes again and says towards his hands: “I’ll go back to bed. And you should do the same. Y’know, sleeping is a thing now, for humans.”
Cas lets out a noise that sounds suspiciously like a scoff and when Dean looks at him, his eyebrows are furrowed and his jaw locked.
“Good night, Dean”, he says pointly, not moving a bit from his seat and Dean stares at him for a few more seconds, before he shakes his head and stomps out of the kitchen. If Cas wants to pull an all-nighter on his first night as a human, Dean wouldn’t stop him. He will regret it tomorrow and hopefully learn to stop being a stubborn bastard when it comes to basic human needs.
And still, once Dean is back in his room, changed into pajama pants and a clean shirt, the lights off and the sheets pulled up over his chest, he can’t help to listen for any sign of movement from the corridor. But nothing happens, no footsteps, no ruffling of clothes or anything, just the quiet humming of the machines. It keeps Dean awake for longer than he wants to and when he finally drifts back to sleep, the creeping darkness and the blue eyes full of tears are already waiting for him.