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Talk Me Down

After Dean kills Cain, the Mark reclaims its power over him, bringing with it nightmares, and a vendetta to force Dean to kill everyone he loves. And in his own special way, Cas figures out how to help Dean deal with the pain.

For my darling friend @deancasinlove. :) Rated T. 2k. (ao3)

Blood swirls down Dean’s forearm, trickling around his elbow and down his bicep. The red soaks into the fabric of his shirt, blending in and turning the blue a deep purple. He throws another punch, startling a whimper of pain from his victim. Pulling his hand back he pauses, eying the red covering his knuckles. He doesn’t want to do this, not to him. The thick tan fabric clenched in his other fist loosens and he staggers backwards, eyes catching a flash of wide, scared blue.

“Dean, you don’t have to do this,” Cas says, voice choked by the blood surrounding his mouth.

“I’m sorry.”

A surge of anger rushes through him and the scar on his arm throbs impatiently, wanting blood, wanting murder. The more important the person, the more it will be satisfied. He kneels down, snatching the first blade where it fell earlier in their fight. His arm vibrates when he grasps the handle, the Mark and its mate meeting. There’s no way he can resist now.

When he takes a step forward, Cas doesn’t even move, doesn’t flinch or try to get out of the way. The Mark throbs irritably and a blast of animalistic need rushes through him causing him to arch his arm back.

“Dean, please!”

And swings forward straight into Cas’ heart.

Dean sits up in bed with a gasp, hands grasping at the sheets tangled around his body. Sweat soaks through his thin t-shirt and on his forearm the Mark aches, hungry and insatiable.

“Cas?” Dean whispers, frozen in the dark afraid that Cas is dead and not lying next to him in bed.

A non-committal grunt registers from the other side of the bed, and a hand reaches blindly over in sleep grasping at Dean’s pant leg, clumsily tugging on the fabric. Dean hesitantly reaches down, covering his own hand with Cas’ and exhales a heavy sigh of relief.

He’s safe, he’s okay.

Dean leans over and presses a kiss against Cas’ forehead, lips lingering on his skin. He pulls back, staring down at Cas’ wayward mess of hair. He removes Cas’ hand from his leg and slides out of bed as silently as he can.

The hallway is chilly and cools the burning on his arm a little, enough that the throbbing is more bearable. At least until he gets a dosage of alcohol in his system to mask the constant yearn for blood. It’s gotten worse ever since his fight with Cain. Killing its former owner must have caused the need for murder to amplify. Which of course for Dean meant less sleep, more nightmares, and more thoughts about murder his loved ones and off-ing himself before he ends up doing anything his mind wants him to.

Dean finds the whiskey where he expected it to be, in the lower cabinet in the kitchen, half-full from last night. Snatching a shot glass from the cupboard he plops down in front of his laptop in the main room of the bunker. He flips it open and pulls up the video player, starting the Three Stooges episode where he left off last night. Two shots burn smoothly down his throat and the Mark’s throb dulls to an irritating itch. There’s nothing he can do about the constant thoughts of killing Cas and Sam. It’s all blood, more blood and he doesn’t know how to stop it.

He does what he can; alcohol and funny videos help a little. In reality he should tell Cas and Sam what’s going on, but he doesn’t see why. It’s unlikely that there’s anything either of them could do would help.

Another shot goes down and he starts another episode, settling back in his seat when the Mark decides to show him a detailed vision of himself stabbing Cas until all he sees is red.

It’s gonna be a long night.

“Dean?”

Cas’ voice breaks through the haze of TV, alcohol, and massacre-esque thoughts. A warm hand settles on his shoulder, another tangling through his hair. He leans into the touch, eyes sliding shut, absorbing the warmth, the love.

“Are you alright?” Cas asks softly.

He wants to lie; he should lie, but he’s tired of lying.

“Not really.”

Cas’ grip tightens on his shoulder as he leans forward and presses a kiss into Dean’s hair.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t know,” Dean answers, opening his eyes and craning his neck around to look at Cas.

“Is it the Mark?”

“Yeah.”

“How much have you drank?”

“A few shots. Don’t worry, I’m good. You can go back to bed,” Dean says, fixing his eyes back on the episode. Cas is warm, Cas kisses gently and what Dean really wants is to crawl back into bed with him and let Cas kiss the pain away. But he doesn’t trust his body and what it wants him to do, he doesn’t trust himself to have enough strength to stop if the Mark gets out of control.

“Come with me,” Cas replies, softly.

Dean contemplates his options, and then shuts his laptop, leaving the whiskey and glass next to the computer. “Okay, but I can’t sleep right now,” Dean states uselessly as Cas carefully takes ahold of his hand and pulls him to his feet.

“That’s okay, we don’t have to sleep. I have another idea.”

Cas tugs on his hand, pulling him back towards their room. He feels like a lost child. His head is spinning just enough to make his vision fuzzy, and his arm is throbbing again, stronger than before as the alcohol settles into his system. He tries to focus on the warmth of Cas’ hand wrapped around his instead of the thoughts rolling around in his head.

In the doorway, Cas’ lips find his, smoothing over them in a gentle peck and then he’s pulling away, and towing Dean towards their bed.

“Sit,” He says tenderly, an order but one that Dean can disobey if he wants. He sits, trusting Cas to know what he’s doing and how to ease this pain.

He’s barely down before Cas is pushing him back on the mattress and straddling his hips with his legs, wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist and pressing their foreheads together.

“What’s going on?”

“I had a nightmare,” Dean starts, “About killing you. And now my mind keeps giving me these visions, these fucked up thoughts about killing you and Sam and how the Mark wants me to do it and I just…”

Dean huffs, pulling back a little and darting his eyes down and away from Cas’.

“You’re just what?”

“I’m scared.”

Cas sighs knowingly, and his hands slide along Dean’s hips, fingertips sliding beneath the band of his sweatpants, brushing lightly over his skin.

“Can you do something for me?” He asks.

“Yeah?” Dean asks, gaze still fixed down between their laps.

“I want you to try to focus only on me, ignore the Mark, and ignore your thoughts.”

“Cas, I can’t.”

“Dean, look at me.”

Dean raises his eyes to Cas’ and sucks in a breath at the love reflected back at him.

“Focus on me, okay? Not what’s going on in there,” Cas says, reaching up and tapping lightly at Dean’s temple with his finger, “Just focus on me, my hands, my mouth; just me.”

“Okay,” He says with a slight nod of his head, “I’ll try.”

Cas’ fingers slip up underneath his t-shirt, ghosting over his tummy, smoothing warm circles over Dean’s skin with his thumbs.

“Close your eyes, and relax. I’ve got you.”

The deep timbre of Cas’ voice combined with the sentiment of his words sends a shiver rocking through Dean’s body. When Cas’ mouth slides delicately along his jaw, peppering kisses, Dean’s eyes finally flutter shut, and his muscles start to relax underneath Cas’ hands. He focuses on Cas’ mouth, the hotness of it and how well Cas knows all of the spots that make him go crazy, and the ones that make him feel like he’s coming home. His neck is one of the most sensitive spots, and Cas spends a good amount of time there, sucking and licking, until a gruff moan leaves Dean’s throat. It feels so good; he automatically reaches up and tangles his fingers in Cas’s hair. Cas continues down, he’s at Dean’s collarbone now, tongue dipping into the space between the bone and his neck.

The thoughts of blood and death are blurring out of his mind, one by one, as Cas slowly takes him apart, mouth sizzling across his skin and gentle hands expertly knowing how to make Dean let go.

“Cas,” Dean breathes when Cas slides Dean’s shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor. He immediately latches his lips onto one of Dean’s nipples sucking hard and dragging a ragged moan out of Dean’s lips.

Cas leaves trails of kisses down Dean’s tummy, hands sliding back down to rest easily on Dean’s hips, pressing comfortably into his skin. The Mark still throbs underneath his skin, but the thoughts are gone, replaced with thisfeelssofuckinggood and ImsofuckinginlovewithCas. All his senses alive, tingling and attuned to every caress of Cas’ hands on his body and every kiss he leaves burning a mark into him.

Dean whines when Cas’ mouth leaves his skin for the briefest second, but Cas’ hushes him with a peck against his lips. His hands never leave Dean’s skin, sliding up over his shoulder and down his bicep. Dean knows where he is going. When Cas reaches the Mark, his fingers ghost over it lovingly a few times, the pads just barely touching the raised scar.

“You’re so beautiful, Dean,” Cas murmurs, leaning down and brushing his lips against the Mark.

The throbbing stops, of course it does, the moment Cas’ mouth touches the scar and Dean chokes out a sob, hands tightening in Cas’ hair. He’s desperate to pull him closer, to pull him underneath his skin until he can’t tell where he ends and Cas begins, and all that’s left is calm, comfort, and happiness.

“How do you feel?” Cas asks, pulling his lips off of Dean’s skin and raising his eyes to meet Dean’s.

“Fine. It’s… everything’s stopped. I’m better,” Dean answers, breathlessly, a tiny little smile tilting up his lips.

Cas smiles, wide and genuine, leaning back down and continuing his ministrations of kisses down Dean’s arm, twirling his tongue along his wrist, and leaving a trail of kisses along the back of his hand.

“Good. Do you wanna try to sleep again?”

Dean feels dizzy with euphoria, dizzy with how much love Cas has for him and the power of his kisses, the feel of his hands. No one’s ever made him feel like this; no one else ever will.

“Yeah, sure. Can you hold me?”

“Of course, you know you don’t have to ask.”

Cas rises off of him, sliding along Dean’s side and gently pushes on his chest until they are lying side-by-side on the bed. Dean scooches back to get underneath the covers and Cas follows, his right hand never leaving Dean’s side. Once beneath, Cas tangles the blankets around them and moves up against Dean’s back, slotting his legs between Dean’s and wrapping one arm snuggly around Dean’s waist.

“Better?” He asks, pressing a sweet kiss to the back of Dean’s neck.

“Yeah, thank you. Seriously, I thought I was gonna lose my shit,” Dean answers, resting his hand on top of Cas’ where it rests on his tummy.

“Next time don’t hide from me, okay? Let me help.”

“I will, I promise.”

Cas wiggles his hips a little, pressing up against Dean as close as he can, tightening his hold around him.

“Good night, Dean.”

“G’night Cas,” Dean squeezes the hand resting against him and snuggles back against Cas.

Dean has no idea what the coming months will bring or how much stronger the Mark’s hold on him will become. All he knows is that with Cas at his side, somehow he’ll be able to come out of this okay.

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