Author: Hectatess | Artist: Nioell
Posting on Tuesday March 7
When Dean takes his little girl, running away from her uncaring and egotistical mother, he hides in Bobby’s cabin a little town in New York State. There he meets an intriguingly selfless man. But can he break the bond with his ex fully? And why is this man somehow familiar?
Wish-Fae Castiel has been captive for a decade, bound by magic. He has accepted his fate, until he gets summoned to help out a man and his little daughter. Then he slowly starts to hope again.
Keep reading for a sneak preview!
It was nearing dark when Dean turned into the road up to the cabin. A friendly looking old man waved at them and Dean slowed down. “Hey there,” the man greeted Dean when he rolled down the window of his Baby. “Nice lookin’ car you got there, Buddy.”
Dean gave him a weary smile. “Thank you.” The man’s eyes slid to where Emma had succumbed to sleep and was snuggled in her safety seat, thumb hanging loose between her jaws, Bartok squished between her and the seat’s head safety guards.
“Aw. Taking the kid on a vacation, are you?” the man smiled. “Well, she looks like she could use it. A bit pale, in my opinion. Mom not with you?”
Dean grit his teeth. Bobby had reminded him that the people in this town tended to be both nosy and overly helpful. “No. We left the mom. She was poison and I didn’t want her growing up thinking that that is how a lady acts.” The man gave an impressed nod. “Ems and I are moving into Bobby Singer’s cabin for now. I’m not sure yet how we’ll get by, but you can count on us being here for a while.”
The man kept nodding, taking in all Dean said with a serious expression on his face. “Right. I hope old Singer left some nutrients in there. He hasn’t been here in quite some time. And aren’t you worried that the mom will find you?”
Dean took a deep breath. Food. He’d forgotten about food. Damnit. He hoped the man was right and Bobby had left some canned ham and beans or something. He smiled at the man. “I’m more worried about the food than the mom right now.” He reached out the window. “Dean Winchester, this is my little girl Emma.”
The guy shook his hand and smiled back. “Frank Devereaux. I’m your next door neighbour, although there’s a mile between our cabins. And I would appreciate a little heads up before a visit.”
That Dean could appreciate. He was there for privacy as well. “Done. Well, let me get to the cabin and hope Bobby left something fit for breakfast tomorrow. See ya Frank!”
Frank nodded and just as Dean started rolling up the window, he called out. “I’ll get you some help.” Dean gave him a smile and eased Baby up the path again. Help. Who could help him at this hour? All he needed was proper food and a good bed for him and Emma. Anything else could wait until tomorrow. He breathed easy when the cabin loomed in his headlights. Home.
He parked Baby under the carport and carefully extracted Emma from her seat. She clung to him, Bartok’s wing scrunched in her little fist. “It’s okay, Ems. We’re home now,” Dean soothed. Emma sighed and snuggled against him. Dean carried her to the front door, and stopped. “Crap.” He couldn’t bend down to get the key from the planter next to the door. Not with his sleeping daughter clinging to him like a limpet.
“Allow me to help you, sir.”
(I fell asleep on the couch one night and dreamed of fae!Castiel crying to the ocean about the man with love in his eyes but not in his mouth. Decided I'd write it down...)
“The centre of every poem is this: I have loved you. I have had to deal with that.”
— Salma Deera, Letters from Medea
The First Time
The first time that Dean ever saw him, he thought perhaps the guy belonged to one of the races of elves. After all, he sort of looked the part, with his long, flowing robes and otherworldly beauty. The quiet steps and confident eyes didn’t argue against the idea, either. But when Dean addressed him as such, he simply laughed and shook his head before disappearing.
The Guardian
The second time Dean saw him, he wondered if he was some kind of forest guardian, perhaps a Ngen or other nature spirit.
Dean was helping a neighbor with a hunt. A bear had been getting into their hives and tearing up their honey supers. Dean had mixed feelings about the task, but Rufus had been set on dealing with “the menace,” and Dean wasn’t about to let him go alone.
They had tracked the bear pretty deep into the woods when Dean spotted it, but there was the strange man also, standing in the way, glaring daggers from where he had placed himself between the bear and the hunters. That glare unearthed and aggravated every ounce of hesitation that Dean had been feeling about this hunt since Rufus first talked him into it.
Dean looked to his friend, trying to decide what to do. Rufus hadn’t seen them yet; should Dean point them out? The bear was what they were out there for, after all. And yet…
Dean cleared his throat. “Hey, Rufus? What do you say we head back?”
Rufus raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re kidding. Boy, don’t tell me you’re wimping out on me already?”
Dean tried not to look towards the bear and its silent guardian. He scratched at the back of his neck. “Nah, I just don’t think we’re gonna find anything out here. Besides, we’ll probably have better luck by just beefing up the defenses around our hives so our unwanted guest can’t get in anyway. Look, if it ain’t this bear, then it’ll just be another one. What good’s tracking down this one animal even gonna do?”
“You’re just whining ‘cause you slipped in the creek earlier and got your pants and boots all wet.”
Dean rolled his eyes even as he steered Rufus back towards their houses. “Whatever, man. You got me. Let’s just go home.”
The Fae
The third time, it was night. Dean was sitting outside his home enjoying the stars and the warmth of a small fire.
The forest guardian appeared suddenly and silently beside Dean, nearly causing him to jump out of his skin. The maybe-sort-of-spirit stared at him wordlessly, eyes narrowed and head tilted, as though Dean were the mystery here.
Dean tried to calm his pounding heart. “Are you a spirit?” he asked. After all, there was something ethereal and almost insubstantial in the way he seemed to easily appear and disappear.
The maybe-spirit just looked amused. “No, I am not that either.”
Dean jumped to his feet as the mystery creature made to leave. “Wait!” he pleaded, holding out a hand.
The being glanced cautiously over his shoulder at Dean, not turning back fully...but not yet leaving, either.
Dean took it as a win. “What do I call you?”
He frowned at Dean. “I have no idea. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call me anything.”
Dean chuckled. “Okay, sure. What I mean is, what do you want me to call you?”
The being tilted his head; he looked confused, almost as though he’d never been asked before. “Most people refer to me as some sort of fae. It’s not exactly right, but it’s close enough; and I like that it puts me in a group with other magical creatures.”
Dean stifled a laugh. “No, I mean—” He stopped and shook his head. All right, fae it was then. If the guy didn’t want to tell Dean his name, that was his business. Besides, Dean knew that for some creatures, having someone’s name was associated with having a certain amount of power over them. Dean didn’t want the guy to think he was trying to get one up on him.
Before Dean could explain as much, though, the fae was gone.
The Healer
It was long enough before the fourth time that Dean had started to wonder if he would ever see the strange not-really-a-fae-but-call-me-fae again. The strange fae seemed so ethereal, intangible; Dean wondered how someone like him even really existed on the same plane of reality that Dean did, or even if he had perhaps imagined the whole thing.
But one day, Dean was in the woods—hurt, shaking, with venom slowly working its way through him, and alone. At least, he’d thought he was alone; but as he crumpled to the soft leaf-covered dirt and rolled to look up at the blurry canopy, a blue that didn’t belong to the sky also filled his vision. He felt a warm hand grip his shoulder, and relief flooded through him.
Dean gasped, blinking up at blue eyes and a mess of dark hair as his vision cleared. “You can touch me,” he breathed.
The fae frowned a little. “I’m sorry. Perhaps I shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean to be presumptuous…”
Dean shook his head and reached up to run his fingers along the most beautiful face he’d ever seen. “No, I just meant...you’re real.”
The fae’s frown deepened. “Of course I’m real.”
Dean smiled lazily.
If asked, he would forever blame what came out next on the venom still being in his system. It wasn’t, but he’d blame it anyway, because what he had meant to say was thanks for the help, but what actually came out was, “You’re too beautiful to be real.”
The eyes above Dean widened, and the fae stared at Dean openly before jolting back as though he’d been burned.
Dean shook his head and sat up, but the fae was already gone. He groaned, dropped his head in his hands, and sighed. “Way to go, Winchester…”
The Trap
It was years before the fifth time.
Dean had begun to wonder again if he’d imagined the strange fae...but the feeling of warm skin under Dean’s fingertips, the rush of heat and relief that had flowed into Dean from where the fae had gripped his shoulder...those things were real.
Occasionally, Dean thought he saw something in his periphery—a glimpse of dark hair or an outline that didn’t seem to belong—but if the fae truly was there, he never revealed himself.
From time to time, though, there would be a basket of fruit outside Dean’s door when he came out in the morning. At first, (even though no one would claim doing it), Dean had assumed it was some of his neighbors or friends from the village dropping off food to share. After all, Dean did the same for them with his honey. However, when he began waking up to flowers on his bedside table, he knew it wasn’t the neighbors.
He knew these things should have made him feel uncomfortable, invaded. It should have been weird to him to feel so watched.
It didn’t.
It made him smile. It made him want more. It made Dean want to see the fae, maybe catch him in the act one day. And so if Dean also spent more and more time outside these days, that was nobody’s business but his own. He’d always liked the outdoors anyway. He just...stayed out a little more now. Nobody needed to know that he was always hoping for another glimpse.
Still, he felt stupid. He felt stupid and guilty for losing himself so badly the last time he’d seen the fae that he’d apparently freaked him out enough to make him run away, calling him beautiful and touching him, and all this after trying to talk a name out of him the time before, when he knew that among the fae names could have so much power.
No wonder the guy ran away, and no wonder Dean was being avoided. The guy probably thought Dean was some freak trying to collect him or something. After all, some would; there were so many who would do him harm or try to claim him like a prize. Dean wished the fae would give him a chance to set it right, prove that he wasn’t up to anything ill-intentioned.
One day in the woods, Dean heard a loud metallic clank, followed by a sharp cry, and he ran towards the source. As he got closer, he thought he heard some shuffling; but before he could pinpoint it, the sounds stopped.
“Hey,” Dean called, looking around. There was nothing to prove it, but he just had a feeling. “It’s you, isn’t it?” he whispered. He spun in circles, trying to catch a glimpse, to figure out where the sound had come from. “Come on, man. I’m not gonna try anything, I promise. Just...please, come out.”
He heard a rustling sound mixed with muffled grunts from the underbrush to his left and turned towards them. There was a heavy sigh followed by some more shuffling and a frustrated groan. Then, finally…
“I’m here.”
That voice...the things it did to Dean were worse than he’d remembered.
Dammit, Dean, get a hold of yourself. Don’t scare him off again like last time.
Dean cautiously moved towards the sound of it. Soon, he saw the fae sitting amidst a bramble of thorns. Dean’s eyes roamed curiously until they landed on where the guy’s leg was caught in what looked to be some sort of bear trap. “Fuck…” he breathed.
The fae grimaced. “Indeed.” He looked bitterly up at Dean. “Is this yours?” he asked, gesturing at the trap.
Dean clenched his fists. “Hell no. I don’t use that shit; and if I did, it’d be around my house as some sort of protection or something, not out here in the middle of the woods to make something suffer for no goddamn reason.”
The fae measured Dean for a moment; then, his hard stare began to soften. “I had hoped not.” He looked back down at his leg. “Something’s...not right about it. I—I seem to be unable to remove it.”
Dean nodded. “Okay. Um, do you want—can I help?”
The fae took a deep breath and nodded.
Dean sighed. “Awesome. Hang tight then. Lemme just…” He looked at the mass of vines and underbrush surrounding his mysterious friend. Dean bent down, prepared to fight his way through them; but as he reached his hand out, the fae simply waved a hand, and the vines parted. Dean stared in wonder as they slowly retreated. He looked up curiously.
The fae just shrugged.
Dean moved forward to kneel in front of him, looking down at the injured leg and suppressing a shudder. Now that he was close, he could see that what he’d assumed was simply a bear trap had been spelled to catch other things. It had various types of sigils and spellwork engraved all over it.
Dean grit his teeth. He never understood why people couldn’t just leave stuff alone. Sure, a lot of fae were hostile (Dean himself had been in more than a few fights with some), but it was no wonder when some humans had the tendency to mark anything non-human as either food or enemy. Besides, every single race had its assholes. Dean sure knew that humans certainly had their fair share.
“I’m Dean, by the way,” he offered as he inspected the trap.
“Dean…” The sound slid down Dean’s spine.
Dean’s eyes flicked up to the fae’s face as he seemed to roll the name on his tongue, mulling it over. Dean would be lying if he said he didn’t like the way it sounded in his mouth.
“Hello, Dean.” He smiled. “I’m Castiel.”
Dean paused and looked back up. “Castiel?”
The fae nodded.
“Huh...I didn’t expect you to give me a name.”
“I didn’t. It’s still mine, but you’re welcome to call me by it.”
Dean chuckled. “No, I mean...I didn’t expect you to tell me what it was.”
Castiel tilted his head. “Why would I not tell you my name?”
“Well, because—ah, never mind.”
He refocused his attention on Castiel’s leg. At least the trap didn’t seem to have any physical enhancements to go with the spellwork, so Dean should be able to pry it off easily enough. It was gonna suck, though. “This is gonna hurt like a bitch,” he said, looking up at Castiel. “You ready?”
Castiel set his jaw and nodded.
Dean shifted into a low crouch. He used his foot to apply pressure to the spring mechanism while prying the jaws apart with his hands.
Castiel grunted a little as the teeth pulled from his flesh but otherwise made no comment. As soon as his leg was free, he lifted it from the trap and scrambled back. He tried to get up but stumbled.
Dean hurriedly reached out to catch him. “Woah! Hey, just hang on a minute, huh?”
Castiel scowled at him indignantly.
Dean sighed. “Look, I know you’re eager to go, but just...let me help you with that leg. It’s bleeding bad, and may even be broken for all we know. I’ve got some bandages and stuff at the house. So, let me help you clean it up. Then, you can disappear off to wherever it is you go, and you don’t have to see me again if that’s what you want. Okay?” Dean let go of Castiel carefully but kept his hands hovering nearby, in case Castiel wasn’t as steady as his expression would have Dean believe. “Just...let me help you,” Dean begged.
Castiel looked down. “That’s not what I want.”
Dean’s heart sank. He tried to ignore it. He gripped the fabric at his left shoulder and tore down his sleeve. “Well, then at least lemme try to stop the bleeding before you go.”
Castiel’s brows drew together for a moment before relaxing back out. He shook his head. “No. What I mean is...not seeing you again—it’s not what I want.”
“You...oh.”
“And also…” Castiel wobbled a little as he stared up at Dean, “it does seem as though I could use your assistance.” His eyes fluttered closed, and he fell forward into Dean’s arms.
(Part 2 is here) (Part 3 is here) (Part 4 is here) (Part 5 is here)
“A bird may love a fish, signore, but where will they live?”
— Danielle de Barbarac, Ever After
Worry
“I know that face.” Dean stood at the counter chopping leek, onions, mushrooms, and carrots for the soup he was making.
Sam just glared at him.
“You’re worrying. Stop it.” Dean scraped the cut vegetables from the cutting board into a large pot. “Stir those while I clean these up, huh?”
Bobby humphed from across the room. “Sam’s not wrong, Dean. You’re fallin’ for someone you can’t have.”
Dean swallowed and renewed his furious scrubbing of the dish he was holding. “Shaddup.”
“Dean…” Sam gave him an exasperated look that Dean pointedly ignored. “I see the way you look at him. Gods, I’ve never seen you look at anyone that way. I just don’t wanna see you get hurt.”
“What makes you guys think he can’t have him?” Charlie piped up from the table where she was carving out some figurines for a set she was working on. “I’m just saying, you guys must not see the way Cas looks at him too.”
Dean shot her a look over his shoulder.
“I mean it, Dean. That guy looks at you like he thinks you put the stars in the sky.”
Dean rolled his eyes as he set another dish on the drying rack. “Well, considering he actually remembers the births of some of them, I feel like we can safely say he knows I didn’t.”
Dean felt a wood chip hit the back of his head. “You know what I’m saying.”
“Whether or not that fae gets all googly eyed over our boy here is beside the point,” Rufus interjected. “I don’t know what kind of life either of them thinks they’d have together. They’re too different.”
“It’d probably be about like the life they have together now,” Claire spoke up from the couch next to Kaia, “except they wouldn’t have to hold back all the time. I swear watching you two idiots dance around each other is the most painful thing I’ve been made to watch with my own eyes.”
“We don’t dance,” Dean shot over his shoulder, but blushed a little at her knowing look. “That was one time, and it wasn’t like that.”
Charlie snorted from the table.
Sam sighed. “Any literal or metaphorical dancing is beside the point if it doesn’t mean the same thing to both of them or if they can’t be together.”
“And why couldn’t they?” Claire challenged, her arm over Kaia’s shoulders, pulling her in tighter with a defiant glint in her eyes.
Sam looked at her apologetically. “Claire, this isn’t like you and Kaia.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Enlighten me.”
Sam threw his hands in the air. “Well, for starters, know at least what Kaia is. And even if dryads live a little longer than humans, you and Kaia are still the same age now and she hasn’t already been around for millennia. And I’m not saying I don’t like Cas; I do! I just want Dean to think things through and don’t want to see him get hurt!”
Dean slammed the pot he’d been scrubbing onto the drain board and began cleaning the knives. “You don’t have to worry about me, Sammy. I’m not an idiot.”
“I know that. I just—”
Dean grabbed a towel and slammed the drawer a little harder than necessary. “You what, Sam? You don’t think I know where I stand in all this? You think I don’t know Cas and I are on completely different planes of existence? The dude’s basically a god! I’m practically nothing compared to him and barely a pinpoint in his eternal existence. We’re friends, okay? I know it ain’t never gonna be more than that. I know he wouldn’t see me as more than that. I’m not fucking stupid.”
“I wasn’t saying you were, Dean.”
Bobby came and took the towel from him. “I’ll dry these. You go finish your soup before Cas gets here.”
Dean nodded and went to pull a few jars of soup stock from the pantry, taking the stirring spoon back from Sam and pouring the broth into the pot.
Sam gave him an odd look. “Since when does ‘the meat man’ make mushroom and leek soup?”
Charlie snickered from the table. “Probably since he started craving a different kind of meat.”
Dean almost tripped. “Okay, you know what? You’re all gonna do that thing where you just shut the hell up, forever.” He looked over at Sam. “And for your information, there’s venison roasting outside over the fire, so I don’t wanna hear it. You act like a guy can’t add some healthy choices into his diet when he starts looking at forty.”
Bobby reached out and patted his shoulder. “All joking aside, kid, you know we just care about you right?” He watched Dean for a moment while Dean stared fixedly down at the pot he was stirring. Bobby sighed. “Look, we just wanna know you’re falling in love with someone who can love you back.”
“I’m not falling in love with Cas,” he grumbled.
Bobby huffed. “It’s ‘cause you’re already there, ya idjit.”
“Whatever,” Dean mumbled as he pulled the pot away from the fire and walked to the door to check on the venison...and to get away from their incessant worrying.
They were right, though. Of course they were right. But what was Dean supposed to do? Not love Cas?
Impossible.
He’d met Cas. He’d seen the way Cas’s eyes crinkled when he laughed. He knew the little tilt of Cas’s head when Dean said something that confused him, the slight press of his lips as he thought on how to respond. He knew that Cas could whisper the secrets of the universe and then be amazed at the existence of peanut butter and how well it went with jelly. Dean knew that whether he died tomorrow or lived for another sixty years, he would never, ever, know someone who captivated and owned him the way that Cas already did.
So, seriously, what was he supposed to do?
Love and...and Love
Dean drank in the sight of his family laughing and carrying on around the fire…and Cas. Dean let the feeling of watching Cas with his family wash over him.
He could spend the rest of his life like this.
He could feel Cas at his side, laughing at something Charlie had said. He looked up, expecting to see Cas looking at Charlie too.
Cas wasn’t. He was staring at him. Smiling.
Dean could spend the rest of his life looking at that too.
The fire was warm, but the night was growing cool; and people were now filtering away. Claire and Kaia had gone home a few hours before. They lived a little further away than the others and had wanted to make the trek while there was still some light out. Now, Sam, Charlie, Rufus, and Bobby were leaving for their respective homes.
Sam hugged him and nodded goodbye to Cas. Charlie hugged Dean tight before running at Cas and throwing her arms around him, which didn’t catch Cas all off-guard the way it used to. Instead of freezing like he once would have, Cas wrapped his arms around her, picked her up and spun her around one time before putting her back down with a big, gummy grin. The two had quickly become the best of friends, and it made Dean feel warm in ways he tried not to think too much about. Charlie turned and gave him a bright smile and winked before heading off herself.
Bobby shook his head good-naturedly at the exchange before turning to Rufus. “You ready to head out?”
Rufus raised an eyebrow at him. “You think I’m going somewhere with you? I happen to live next door.”
Bobby chuckled. “Sure. But I’m ready to leave now, and I believe you said you had some whiskey to share with me before I went home.”
“You couldn’t bother to forget that?”
“Hmph. With all of my stores that you’ve drank up over the years? Not a chance. Come on. Let’s get out of these boys’ hair.” He turned to Dean and gave him a long look before walking over to him and pulling him into a tight hug. “I think Charlie might be right, kid,” he whispered. “That fae looks at you like you’re everything.”
As Bobby pulled away, Dean fought the smile his lips wanted to draw into and looked down at the ground, grateful that the night hid any blush that was definitely not happening. “Yeah, okay, Bobby. You have a safe walk home.”
He waved everyone off and settled back onto the ground in front of the fire; Cas settled right next to him.
They sat in silence for a while, just enjoying each other’s presence and the quiet evening. After a while, Dean turned to find Cas staring at him again. He chuckled. “I got something on me?” he teased.
Cas smirked and shook his head. “A week’s worth of dirt, but that’s not what I was looking at.”
Dean shoved his shoulder playfully. “Hey! I’ll have you know I bathed no longer than three days ago!”
Cas laughed and rolled his eyes. “I thought I smelled something.”
Dean snorted. “Whatever, man.”
Cas grinned secretively at him. “Even so, it’s still not what I was looking at.”
Dean raised an eyebrow. “All right, then? Lemme have it. What’s actually so amusing about my face, huh?”
Cas hummed. His expression softened as his eyes roamed Dean’s features. “You once told me I was...how did you put it?” He held up his fingers in air quotes. “‘Too beautiful to be real,’ I believe it was.”
Dean looked down and scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Um, yeah. Sorry about that. I was pretty out of it. I didn’t, ah, I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Castiel’s look was unreadable. “Even so…” he sighed and pressed on, “you are very beautiful, too. It’s different though. You’re beautiful in a way that almost makes you too real.” Castiel’s eyes wandered over Dean’s features, studying him. He lifted a hand and placed it on Dean’s cheek. “It’s like staring at the entire universe in one place.” He traced his thumb lightly over Dean’s cheekbone. “You even have the constellations in your skin.”
Ah, so tonight they were playing what new hell does Cas have for Dean this day? He closed his eyes and gently pulled Cas’s hand away, holding it just off of his face. “Gods, Cas, you can’t just say stuff like that.”
He could practically hear the frown in Cas’s voice. “Why not?”
“People will get the wrong idea.”
“There’s no one else here, Dean.”
Dean swallowed and tried unsuccessfully to make himself let go of Cas’s hand. He opened his eyes to look at him. “Cas, I will get the wrong idea.”
Cas’s eyes grew sad. He gently pulled his hand away and turned back to the fire. “I will never understand you,” he whispered.
“Hah, that’s rich coming from you,” Dean teased, trying to lighten the mood. “I don’t think I’ve ever been thrown for so many loops in my life as since I met you.”
Cas snorted. “No, you haven’t. You won’t even fly with me, even though I promised I would never let you fall. So, I’ve definitely never thrown you.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Cas, it’s a-”
Cas turned to him with a smirk. He was messing with Dean.
“You ass.”
Cas’s smirk widened into a grin. “You like it.”
“Hmm.”
Cas leaned back on his palms and angled his head back to the night sky.
Dean just stared openly at him; he didn’t even try to stop himself this time. Why should he? Cas never did…
And tonight, Dean didn’t have the strength left to fight it, so he stared. He stared at the way the moonlight played over Cas's features, highlighting his otherworldly beauty. Dean stared as it hit him again that he wasn’t quite sure how someone like Cas even existed, much less wasted his time hanging out with Dean.
Dean shook his head and reached for his coffee, pulling a long sip of the warm elixir.
“Our love is especially bright tonight.”
Dean spewed the coffee back out. He turned and gaped at Cas, whose soft smile was morphing into a concerned expression.
“Dean, are you okay?”
“Am I- Cas, I…” Dean had no idea what to say. How could Cas just throw the L word out there like that? Dean studied Cas’s face, so beautiful, so sincere, so looking at Dean as though he hadn’t just dropped a huge fucking bomb on him and blasted everything Dean had been yearning for wide open.
Dean swallowed. Surely, he had misheard something. He had obviously been letting his fantasies run a little wild lately, and everyone picking on him earlier tonight before Cas got here surely hadn’t helped. Dean took a deep breath. “You mind saying that again, Cas?”
Cas gave him a confused look. “Our love,” he turned his gaze up at the sky and motioned to it, “she’s bright tonight.”
“Our-” Dean looked at Cas and then up at the sky where the moon was full and shining.
Oh.
“The moon...you’re- you’re talking about the moon.”
Cas hummed. “Ah, yes. That’s what humans tend to call her.”
Dean could feel himself crashing. He hadn’t realized he even had any sort of hope to be let down, but dammit, if the black hole forming in his chest was any indication, then apparently he had. He dug his fingers into the earth and tried to pretend he didn’t feel the world caving in around him. “So,” he began, trying to distract himself, “why do you call it ‘love’ then?”
Okay, that was probably not the best distraction.
Cas gazed up at the sky, and it was everything Dean could do not to reach out and touch him, grab his face and turn that soft smile on Cas’s lips towards him and kiss it. “Because that’s what she is,” Cas answered quietly. “I suppose, one could say that it’s because she shines brightest in the darkness; but she’s always there, even when we can’t see it.”
“Oh,” Dean breathed. If only…
Cas turned his gaze to Dean, his expression growing worried again. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I just—” Dean stood. “I think I’m gonna go in for the night. I’m pretty tired.” He grabbed his coffee cup and took a step towards the door. He paused, hesitantly looking back. “You, uh, you comin’ in?”
Cas gave him a wry smile and shook his head. “No, I...think I’ll stay out here tonight.” He turned back to the fire. “Perhaps I’ll go to the ocean. It’s been a while since I’ve visited.”
Dean nodded, even though Cas couldn't’ see. “Okay. Well...night, Cas,” he mumbled before heading to the door, wishing to anything that he had the right to beg Cas to stay.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural)
Additional Tags: Fairy Tale Elements, Fae & Fairies, Fae Castiel (Supernatural), Old Age, Death from Old Age, Alternate Universe - Firefighters, Firefighter Dean Winchester, Tumblr Prompt
Series: Part 19 of Tumblr Fic
Summary:
“Yeah, I think you’ve got fairies,” Sam says, half-laughing.
“Dude, this isn't funny,” Dean snaps into his phone.
“It is a little funny.”
“I want to know what the fuck is going on.”
“Are you sure you’re not the one trying to prank me?” Sam asks. “This is a pretty good set up.”
“I fucking swear to god...”
(Character death not Dean or Cas, and from old age.)
Dean stumbled into his house with an unconscious Castiel cradled in his arms and kicked the door shut behind him. The trap dangled from Dean’s belt, clanking against his leg as he made his way to the couch. He hated bringing the thing, but he had no idea what kind of magic it was enchanted with; and if it had anything more nefarious than some binding spells, he needed to know. He had a few tomes and reference books lying around. Hopefully, something in one of them would help.
Castiel was limp as Dean lowered him clumsily to the couch. (Dammit, the dude was heavy. Dean hadn’t really noticed until he’d had to carry him, but it turned out there was a lot more going on under those robes of Castiel’s than their loosely flowing shape had let on.) The fae let out a low grunt as his back hit the cushions but otherwise didn’t react.
Dean unhooked the trap from his belt and chucked it next to the door; he’d deal with that in a minute. First he needed to assess the damage and clean and dress that wound more properly. He filled a large pot with some water and hung it over the fire to warm. Next, he grabbed a few clean strips of cloth, separating out a few to use as dry bandages and throwing the rest that he’d use to clean the wound into the water.
He walked back over and sat on the edge of the couch while he waited for the water to warm and pushed up the hem of Castiel’s robe to expose the injured leg, still wrapped in Dean’s torn-off sleeve. Leaving that on for the moment, Dean carefully prodded around the wound. The bone seemed fine; it was in place, anyway, which was something. That didn’t rule out fractures, but Dean wouldn’t be able to tell much more by poking at it. He looked back up at Castiel’s face; did he look more pale than before? Dean moved up and brushed back the hair sticking to Castiel’s forehead. He was clammy...and cold. Was he supposed to be cold? Maybe something was wrong, or maybe it was a fae thing; Dean didn’t know. There was just too much here he didn’t know; he needed Castiel to wake up.
Once the water had finished heating, Dean grabbed the pot and towels, set them on the floor next to him, and began to untie the makeshift bandage around Castiel’s leg.
Castiel groaned and opened his eyes.
Dean glanced up at him, relieved. “Morning, Sunshine. Nice of you to join us.”
Castiel ignored him, instead sitting up and scowling down at his leg. “Something’s wrong.”
Dean snorted. “Yeah, no shit.” He shed his jacket and up his sleeves. “You got your leg caught in a hunter’s trap for starters.” He bit his cheeks to hide his laugh at the look Castiel gave him for that. The dude could honestly probably give Sam a lesson in bitchfaces.
Castiel rolled his eyes and looked back down at his leg. “No, I mean...it’s not healing.”
Dean glanced at it worriedly as he reached into the pot to fish out one of the rags. “Is that...a thing? You supposed to heal extra fast or somethin’?”
Castiel sighed. “All things are relative, but...yes. A purely physical wound would have mostly healed on its own by now. And normally, if I concentrate, I can heal an injury almost instantly. However…” He reached out and held a hand over his leg for a moment before shaking his head. “Something is preventing me.”
Shit. “All right. Yeah, I was kinda worried about that when I saw the sigils all over the trap, so I brought it back with me. I’ve got some books over on the shelf along with decades of my own notes; we can dig through it all ‘til we figure out what it’s doing to you. Lemme get this leg cleaned up, and then we’ll start trying to figure out what’s wrong.” He turned his attention back to the leg and finished untying the makeshift bandage.
What he saw beneath it made his heart wanna crawl out of his throat.
The wound didn’t seem particularly deep, but it was already festering. Not only that, but as Dean wiped blood and puss from the area, he saw that there were black lines beginning to streak out from the teeth marks into the rest of the leg, and...they were spreading.
Definitely not just binding spells, then. Fuck.
He chucked the soiled rags by the fire. “Okay, new plan. We’re figuring this out now.” He got to his feet and grabbed the trap from by the door, along with a few books from the shelf, passing one to Castiel as he began rolling the trap over, looking for anything familiar, anything that would at least tell him where to start.
“Dean?” There was an edge of panic to Castiel’s voice, and Dean turned back to see the black lines crawling up Castiel’s thigh. Castiel reached to hover his hands over the wound, brow furrowed in concentration.
A blue light began emanating from the wound beneath Castiel’s hand. For a moment, the creeping blackness slowed; for a moment, Dean thought that whatever Castiel was doing would work.
And then, it didn’t.
There was a crackling noise, and Castiel fell back with a cry. The blackness began spreading with a vengeance.
Forget research; they didn’t have time for it.
Dean grabbed a file and began dragging it across the various sigils on the trap. Most things could be broken by simply breaking the symbols. He prayed to the gods that this fell into that category.
The gods were never on his side.
Dean scratched off the last of the sigils and dropped the trap to the floor, turning back to look at Castiel, hoping the spread had stopped. Instead, what he saw was the blackness creeping up Castiel’s chest.
Dean looked up at Castiel’s eyes, certain that his own face mirrored Castiel’s panicked expression. “I don’t know what to do…”
Castiel opened his mouth to speak, but his words were lost. All that came out was black goo.
“Shit!” Dean looked back at the trap, which was now glowing red on the floor behind him; maybe the magic was somehow bound to the trap itself? He pushed away from the couch and grabbed a hammer from the wall, kicked the trap to the middle of the room, and dropped to his knees, bringing the hammer down heavy onto the glowing trap. It was a desperate plan, but what else did he have at this point? He raised his hammer over and over, each time bringing it down with a crash. Castiel was dying. Dean could clearly hear Castiel’s choking sounds between hammer strikes. They were out of time.
The trap glowed brighter and brighter with each strike; and then finally, finally, sparked and broke apart, releasing a pulse of energy that knocked Dean back against the couch.
He gasped and struggled to his feet, clambering to check on Castiel, whose eyes had once again slipped closed. Dean ran his fingers over the thick black veins that were sprawling across Castiel’s chest and up his neck. The blackness seemed to have stopped spreading for the moment, but it still wasn’t receding.
He took Castiel’s face in his hands. “Hey…” Dean shook him a little. “Hey, wake up.” He wiped the goo from Castiel’s mouth with his thumb. “Oh, come on, man, you can’t just go out on me like this…”
Castiel gasped, his eyes fluttering open briefly only to squeeze back shut as he coughed black goo from his lungs.
Dean turned him onto his side, still cradling his face with one hand and running the other comfortingly over Castiel’s back as the latter continued to cough. Once the worst of it seemed over, he pulled Castiel upright on the couch, kneeling in front of him. His hands roamed Castiel’s face, brushed the hair back from his forehead as Castiel watched him hazily. “You with me, pal?”
Castiel tried to speak but only managed to sputter and nod weakly.
Dean patted his shoulder. “You’re a dramatic son of a bitch, you know that?”
Castiel lifted his head to shoot Dean a weak glare, but any force behind it was lost as he groaned and doubled forward.
Dean caught him against his chest to keep him from falling onto the floor. “Hey, man,” he whispered desperately, “I’m completely out of my depth here. Tell me how I can help you.”
“Ocean,” Castiel rasped against his shoulder.
“Huh?”
“Can you—can you get me to the ocean?”
“Yeah.” Dean nodded. “It’ll take about an hour by horse. Impala won’t be too happy with me about having to carry two grown men that far, but she can do it.” He pushed Castiel back a little by the shoulders to look him in the eyes. “You’re gonna make it that long, right?”
Castiel gave him a weak smirk. “It doesn’t seem as though I have a choice.”
Dean laughed mirthlessly. “That’s the spirit.” He pulled Castiel’s arm over his shoulder and threw his own around Castiel’s waist. “Come on. Let’s get you to the beach.”
Healing
Dean sat Castiel on some hay bales by the stable doors and leaned him back, checking on him and patting the side of his neck before turning to Impala. “Hey, baby.” He scratched behind her ear and turned an eye out at the setting sun. “I know it’s a little late, but it looks like we’re going for a ride tonight.” He grabbed her blanket and saddle from its perch and quickly began the work of getting everything in place, looping the cince strap through its ring then moving to buckle the rear billet.
He loved Impala. No other beast compared. She was strong, sleek, black, beautiful. She was his companion and gentle and always came through for him but had just enough spirit and attitude to keep things interesting. She constantly reminded him that she was a partner more than a pet, and he wouldn’t have her any other way.
She stood at sixteen hands, pretty large and muscular for a quarter horse, though not as big as something like a Clydesdale. She wasn’t quite as fast and zippy as some of the smaller horses, but she also wasn’t slow by any means and was built for strength and endurance, two things for which Dean was grateful tonight.
Dean slipped the bridle into Impala’s mouth and cinched the straps to hold it in place before throwing the reins over her neck. He then turned back to Castiel, who was watching them with rapt attention, still slumped against the wall and looking so much worse for wear.
Dean led Impala to him and reached out. “Come on. I’ll help you up.” Castiel took his hand; and Dean helped him stand and get his foot into the stirrup, then boosted him into the saddle, following quickly behind him. He wrapped one arm around Castiel’s waist, patted Impala’s neck, and grabbed the reins with his other hand, tapping lightly at her sides. “All right, baby. Let’s get this man to the water.”
Castiel was all but limp against Dean for most of the ride. More than once, Dean thought he’d lost him; but then he’d feel Castiel tense against his chest with a cough or a weak groan.
He urged Impala faster.
What felt like an eternity later, they finally found the place where grass gave way to sand. The salty air whipped strong against Dean’s face. The waves echoed against his ears.
He slid from Impala’s back and barely caught Castiel as he came tumbling off with him. “Hey,” he said, holding him steady, “I got you. You’re okay. I got you.”
Dean looked around as he pulled Castiel against him. “So, what now?” To be honest, he had no idea what they were doing here. Castiel had simply asked Dean to get him to the ocean, and so Dean had. But now what?
Castiel shifted in his arms and shivered against him. “The water. I need to—” he tried to take a step but stumbled.
Dean pulled Castiel’s arms over his shoulders and stooped to pick him up, cradling the fae against his chest. “Okay. Let’s go.” He breathed heavily as he trudged forward, boots digging into the loose sand. He gripped Castiel tightly against him, unable shake the intense feeling of holding something precious in his arms. Dean could tell...he could tell that Castiel was was good, that he was important. “You’re gonna be okay,” he whispered as Castiel’s head lolled against his neck. “I’ve got you.” Soon, the water was sloshing over Dean’s boots with each incoming wave.
Castiel drew in a deep, shaky breath. “Here is fine. Thank you, Dean.”
Dean nodded. He still didn’t get it, but he stooped to lower Castiel into the surf.
At the first touch of Castiel’s foot to the water, Dean felt it. He froze. He had no idea what this was, but there was something with them, something ancient, something deep, something with intent.
He knelt and gathered Castiel back into his arms. He had no idea what was going on here, but whatever it was, it felt wrong and he was getting them away from this place now.
Before Dean could take Castiel and run, the water rose up and wrapped itself around Castiel, pulling him from Dean’s arms. “Woah! Hey!” Dean renewed his grip and struggled to hold on tight, practically wrapping himself around Castiel where they knelt in the surf.
Another wave rose up and hit Dean in the chest, pushing him back onto the sand and retreating away from him with Castiel. Dean watched helplessly as the water completely took Castiel over, then sank, pulling Castiel beneath the waves.
Dean pushed himself up and stared out over the water. “Castiel?” He knelt in the sand, his eyes searching the low waves cresting in front of him. “Castiel!” he cried.
His only answer was the waves washing over his hands where his fingers dug into the sand.
“No, no, no, no…” He pushed up and took a step into the water, eyes searching the dark waves. “Castiel…”
“Hello, Dean,” said a low, soft voice beside him.
Dean turned to see Castiel standing over him, smiling softly, whole. He scrambled to his feet and ran his hands over Castiel’s face. He slid his hands down Castiel’s neck, his chest. He pushed up Castiel’s sleeves, inspecting the smooth skin beneath them; but he could see no traces of the blackness that had been there. “You’re fine,” he breathed. “The black, it’s gone.”
Castiel gave him a somewhat awkward smile and nodded. “Yes.”
“How?” Dean asked, but now that he could see that Castiel was okay, his brain suddenly caught up to what his hands were doing. He yanked them down to his sides.
Castiel smirked a little but, blessedly, didn’t comment. “The earth sustains me,” he said instead, turning to look out over the water. “The ocean does especially. It’s primordial. It’s where I came from. One day, I’ll return, and my story will be complete,” he turned back to Dean, “but not today. Today, it heals me.”
“Oh,” Dean responded dumbly. Because really, what else could he even say to that?
Castiel was the one to reach out this time, lifting a hand to Dean’s face, fixing him with eyes that were somehow both deeper than the ocean but brighter than the skies. “Thank you, Dean. For everything.”
Dean swallowed. “Yeah,” he breathed, fighting down what was growing in his chest. “Any time.”
Dean saw more of Castiel after that. Sure, Castiel still came and went with the wind, and Dean never knew when he would show up or what would make him suddenly disappear; but he no longer hid from Dean as he had before.
These days, Dean would turn, and there Castiel would be, smiling at him. He would wake up and find Castiel putting flowers in the vase by his bed. He would be out for a walk, and suddenly Castiel would be walking beside him.
He learned a lot about Castiel during this time...
Awesome Things
Dean learned some pretty awesome things about Castiel.
He learned that Castiel seemed to know every language Dean had ever heard of, which was really frickin’ awesome, and Dean may or may not have had a developing thing for hearing him speak them.
He learned that Castiel apparently didn’t need to eat or sleep, but that he occasionally enjoyed these things anyway.
“So, like...what do you even do all night when everyone’s asleep on the nights you don’t?”
Castiel had looked at him rather amused for that one. “It’s probably not too different from what you do while everyone’s awake.”
Yeah, okay. That made sense.
One day, Dean learned that Castiel had wings.
“We know he’s in there!” Gordon’s accusing voice followed the pounding on Dean’s door. “My trap went missing and ever since then, we’ve all heard rumors of a fae hanging around here.”
Dean grit his teeth. So that had been Gordon’s trap. Dean’d had more than a few run-ins with Gordon. The guy was way too overzealous with his hatred of anything not human. Sure, they’d worked together in the past, even been tentative friends at times; but this particular pressure point had eventually broken that. They just never could see eye-to-eye on the idea that not everything non-human was inherently bad.
“Don’t try to hide him, Dean. I didn’t believe the rumors at first, but this morningI saw him with my own eyes. Give him over and we won’t have any trouble.”
No trouble?! Dean yanked the door open. “Gordon,” he warned, “you know I don’t agree with huntin’ what ain’t hurtin’ no one. And Cas ain’t done nothin’ to you or anyone else here.”
“Oh really? You’ve been keeping tabs on him, huh? Can you really account for every hour of his day? What are you gonna do when your pet fae goes off the rails?”
“Cas is not a pet,” Dean growled.
“He’s also not human.”
Dean wrapped his hand around the hilt of the machete that hung by his door, looking at Gordon and the group gathered behind him. “I’m only gonna say this once: any of you hurt Cas, and you’ll wish I’d killed you quickly. Now,” he pulled the machete from its place on the wall, “get off my property.”
It was just as Gordon made to shove his way into the house that Dean felt a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back. He saw a satisfied expression barely form on Gordon’s face as Castiel stepped forward through the door. That smug expression slipped as he and the rest were blown back across the yard.
Dean followed Castiel through the door, staring.
Castiel began to change. Dark blue, iridescent scales began to spread over his skin. They didn’t cover him completely but formed patterns and concentrated themselves over his shoulders and hairline. Huge wings sprouted from his back. They were...mostly black, but the tips of the feathers bore hints of every color of the rainbow.
The wind picked up around them; as Castiel moved forward, lighting struck the ground around him. When he spoke, it was with thunder in his voice. Just one word…
“Leave.”
Gordon and the others scrambled to their feet and ran away.
All Dean could do was stare.
Castiel turned to him with an expression Dean didn’t quite understand. Was it...nervousness? Did he think Dean would run away? That Castiel had scared him? Hah…ridiculous.
“Dean?”
Dean tried to find the words.
Castiel’s wings folded in against his back. “Are you...okay?”
Okay? “Gods…” Dean swallowed. “It’s just— you’re the most awesome thing I’ve ever seen.”
Castiel’s mouth opened a little, but no sound came out. He exhaled, and with it the tension seemed to melt out of him. His gaze flickered to the ground, the corners of his mouth hinting at a smile. “Thank you, Dean.”
Horrible Things
Dean also learned some horrible, cursed things about Castiel.
Like the time Castiel took his hand while Dean was making pie, and Dean proceeded to learn what Castiel’s lips felt like wrapped around his fingers and what his tongue felt like as he licked and sucked the sweet filling from them. He also learned in those moments what Castiel sounded like when he tasted something he liked.
This was knowledge that Dean did not do well with.
He also learned that Castiel had almost no filter and would do things like talking in front of Charlie about how Dean’s beautiful Dean’s eyes were or in front of Bobby and Sam about how he enjoyed watching Dean wake up in the morning. Dean had to constantly tell him that Dammit, Cas, you don’t just say stuff like that, or people will get the wrong idea! In fact, sometimes it was hard enough for Dean not to get the wrong idea. The last thing he needed was everyone else teasing him about it.
One day, Dean learned, much to his dismay, what the full expanse of Castiel’s skin looked like.
They had been walking through the woods, swapping tales and comparing knowledge about various plants and herbs—what was edible, what was helpful, what was poisonous. Dean had a bag slung over his shoulder for anything they found. Of course, anything Dean knew about herbology paled in comparison to Castiel’s expanse of knowledge; but somehow, Castiel always listened and seemed genuinely interested in what Dean had to say, becoming excited when Dean knew something he didn’t, grinning in acknowledgement with things he agreed with, and filling in the gaps in Dean’s knowledge with his own.
Suddenly, Castiel turned to him with a giant grin. “Let’s go this way.”
Dean looked around curiously. “I’ve never been out this far.”
Castiel laughed. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you get lost.”
Dean just rolled his eyes and started walking in the direction Castiel had indicated.
Castiel led them to a small clearing at the base of a cliff face, where a large plunge pool had formed from various streams and tributaries flowing over the edge into the basin, then later formed the larger river flowing south towards Dean’s home from the area. The water at the bottom was lazy, crystal clear, and deep enough to swim.
Dean looked around with wide eyes at the moss-covered walls and streams tumbling over the ledges into the pool. “Dude, this is awesome.”
Castiel wore a satisfied expression as he watched Dean’s reaction. “It’s one of my favorite places.” He grinned. “Care to swim?”
Dean laughed, already shrugging the bag from his shoulder. “Oh, hell yeah. It’s been way too long.” Dean pulled his shirt over his head as Castiel untied his own belt. Dean kicked off his shoes and was about to wade into the water when his brain was pulled to a screeching halt by Castiel’s robe slipping from his shoulders and piling at the ground around his feet.
Cas stepped from the pile of material and towards the water...gloriously and completely naked.
Dean drew a deep breath and tilted his head back to stare up at the sky. “Yeah?”
“Is something wrong?”
Dean suppressed a groan. “You, uh, don’t have some shorts or something to swim in?”
“Should I?”
Dean didn’t have to see him to know that Castiel was tilting his head, that he was giving Dean a why-would-I-swim-in-clothes-they-would-get-wet-Dean-don’t-be-rediculous look. Castiel had no idea. He had no clue how Dean was suffering right now. Damn dude probably went nude all the time out here; and for all Dean knew, it was perfectly normal for his people to hang out naked.
“Dean?” Castiel’s voice was close, too close, right in front of him. “Is something wrong?”
Dean sighed and looked down to meet Castiel’s eyes. They were so unclouded, so without shame. Dean couldn’t bring himself to tell him that he should have it.
“Nah,” he said. “It’s all good. In fact…” Dean untied his pants and pushed them to the ground. They were gonna be miserable to walk home in wet anyway; and if Castiel didn’t have any shame, then Dean wouldn’t either. “I think you’ve got the right idea.”
Castiel grinned brightly, took Dean’s hand, and led him into the water.
Disorienting things
A lot of the things Dean learned about Castiel were just...disorienting.
For one: Castiel was old, like...really old. Normally, Dean didn’t really think about it. Then, occasionally, Castiel would mention watching the formation of the mountains or the evolution of humanity and Dean would realize just how timeless Castiel actually was.
Also, Dean didn’t know if standard social norms were just too current for Castiel or if he had just been around for far too long to care, but the fact stood that Castiel had no sense of when to look away...at all. Dean had never known anyone to just stare the way Castiel did—it was like having someone stare into his soul. Hell, for all Dean knew, Castiel was staring into his soul. Dean had no idea what Castiel saw there that made him stare that way; but it made Dean feel seen, which was eight kinds of terrifying...but also nine kinds of wonderful in a way that he’d probably never admit.
Castiel, or Cas, as Dean had taken to calling him, was like that, though: terrifying...and wonderful.
Dean learned that along with not knowing when to look away, Cas seemed to have no sense of personal space. He didn’t seem to understand why it was weird for him to appear next to Dean while he was maybe getting dressed or that most people just don’t stand that close.
Sometimes, Cas would go through Dean’s things. It was never anything explicitly private, just...random things. He’d go through Dean’s drawers or his toiletries, carefully scrutinizing each item, as though a toothbrush was somehow fascinating, or like it was important to know exactly how many flannels Dean owned or what the insides of his shoes looked like.
It didn’t generally bother Dean; it was just weird. It was just Cas.
One night, Dean learned just how little understanding of personal boundaries Cas really had. Dean had just shed his clothes down to his boxers and was about to crawl into bed when Cas appeared next to him.
Dean jumped. “Gods, Cas, I swear I’m gonna end up putting a damn bell on you. I—” Dean froze as Cas's eyes roamed over him, teeth worrying his lower lip.
Cas finally lifted his eyes to meet Dean’s gaze. “Dean…” he breathed.
Dean swallowed. “Yeah?”
Something was off. Cas looked so worried, so determined. “I...would like to stay here tonight.”
Dean did his best not to fall over. “Uh...sure. Everything okay? You in some kind of trouble?”
Cas’s brows drew together, and he looked off to the side. “I...not exactly.”
Dean’s chest constricted; whatever had Cas so distressed, he didn’t like it. “Hey.” He reached out and took Cas’s face in his hands, turning it back toward him. “It’s fine, Cas. You’re safe here and welcome any time. You hear me?”
Cas’s expression was pained. “That’s not—” he sighed. “Thank you, Dean.”
Dean pulled him into a hug. “I don’t know what in the world could make someone like you worried like this, and I don’t know what I can do, but I’m here, okay? You let me know what I can do. I know it’s not much, but…”
“It’s enough.” Cas breathed out and gripped Dean’s back. He nodded against Dean’s shoulder. “Whatever you can give...it’s enough.”
They stood there like that for a moment before Dean finally cleared his throat and put a little space between them. “All right,” he said. “I know you don’t need to sleep, but I gotta get my four hours or I’ll be useless tomorrow.” He grinned and nodded towards the bed. “Good night, Cas.” He ruffled Cas’s hair before turning to crawl into bed.
He’d honestly expected Cas to take the couch, or just...hang out reading or something since the guy didn’t usually sleep anyway.
However, what Cas actually did was crawl into the bed behind Dean.
“Woah! What are you—?” Dean scrambled to the far side of the bed against the wall.
Cas frowned. “You told me to stay. Should I...sleep somewhere else?”
Gods, he looked so dejected, like Dean had just slapped him and told him he never wanted to see him again. The poor dude just didn’t get it at all.
Dean shook his head. “Uh, no. This is fine. Just— just surprised me, ‘cause I didn’t know you were gonna sleep, is all.”
“Oh.” Cas relaxed. “I actually probably won’t. You can sleep though. I’ll watch over you.”
Gods help him. “That’s, uh—I mean—okay. That’s...okay. Yeah. That’s okay.” Dean pulled the covers up and rolled over to face the wall. And Cas? The gods had little mercy on Dean tonight because Cas was right behind him. He didn’t cuddle him exactly, but he pressed his fingers lightly on the space between Dean’s shoulder blades and then Dean had to learn what Cas’s breath felt like on the back of his neck, and...
He squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on breathing, knowing damn well there was no way he was falling asleep any time soon.
He was wrong though, and he learned that having Cas there felt comforting, peaceful, right.
Gods help him, it felt so right.
Heartbreaking things
Over the years, Cas tried a few times to tell Dean what he was. Dean didn’t quite get it—something about how Cas had been born when the sky had reached into the ocean and pulled him from its depths, something about how he was both flesh and spirit, something about how the earth was his brother and the stars were his friends. Yeah, Dean couldn't quite wrap his head around it.
The guy was basically some sort of god.
And oh, Dean had never before wanted to fall to his knees and worship anything so badly in his life.
There was one part of it all that Dean understood to his bones, though: Cas was so far out of his league it wasn’t even funny. Like, out of his league didn’t even begin to cut it. Cas had the universe inside of him; and even though he insisted that everyone was part of the universe and it with them, Dean knew Cas was different. The dude was on a whole other wavelength that Dean would never understand.
And, oh, was Cas hard to understand.
Because every time Cas got into Dean’s personal space, when he stepped in close and said things like I can see the forests inside your eyes; or when Dean would ask him if he needed to leave and Cas would look at him with all the sincerity in the world and say I would rather be here; or when Cas would pull him outside to dance under the moon...There was no way that Cas meant those things the way that Dean felt them. It was just the way Cas was. There was no way he had any idea how romantic these things felt, the way they made Dean’s insides go to mush and his heart try to pound its way out of his chest.
And there was no way that Cas could ever feel about Dean the way Dean felt about him.
It was impossible.
And it hurt. It hurt to stand in Cas’s presence and fight to keep his hands to himself, ‘cause it just didn’t feel right to touch Cas that way when doing so would mean something entirely different for Dean. It hurt to catch Cas staring and know that he didn’t mean anything by it, that he was probably just studying Dean the way that a human would watch an ant that he found momentarily fascinating. It hurt to want to tell Cas that he loved him and wanted to hold him and be his everything when he knew that he was actually just a short blip in Cas’s eternity.
