Chapter Text
"Cas...I'm in trouble."
Cas shot out of his seat, his eyes were wide and his face no longer showed any signs of exhaustion, he was instantly alert and aware. Despite the incredibly long day, he walked to the door with quick, determined steps, and tested the locks to be sure they were secure. He then went to his bedside table, opened the drawer, and withdrew his gun. Dean had never seen Cas with his gun in hand, and despite the fear pulsing through his system, a thrill ran down his spine and settled in his gut. Cas looked every bit the fierce, intimidating FBI agent that had stared Dean down that first day at the station, and Dean almost gave in to a smile at the memory.
"What's wrong, Dean? Talk to me." There was something in Cas’s voice, half-concerned, half-demanding. He stood beside Dean who was still frozen in place on the couch, his eyes darting between Dean's face and the door, hand clenching around the handle of his gun, flexing his grip.
"Sit down, angel, it's okay." Dean ran his hands through his hair, and took a deep breath, attempting to settle the adrenaline coursing through his system, feeling the cold sweat clinging to his skin.
Cas moved to sit back on the couch, but kept his gun at the ready, still visibly shaken by the fear he had heard in Dean's voice. His eyes were trained on Dean's face, his brows knitted in concern as he leaned forward. A sense of adoration washed over Dean as he saw this man, who had just had the longest, and arguably the most dangerous day of his life, still immediately jump into action at simply hearing Dean being worried.
“Josie Sands, she goes by Abaddon. She was Luc’s most loyal follower, back before he took charge of the Family. They had a huge falling out because she didn’t like the direction he wanted to go. She felt he was being too soft. That he’d grown weak.”
Cas’s brows shot up and hit his hairline, and Dean couldn’t blame him in the slightest. For someone to consider Luc soft and weak? He hoped that Cas could understand the gravity of the situation, and why the panic had flooded his system when he heard her name. The Family had been responsible for some of the most heinous and gruesome crimes the FBI had seen in recent years, enough that they had managed to arrest damn near 40 people in one day, between those in the Family and the police. Yet Dean, who had seen and helped carry out most of those crimes, was sitting in front of Cas visibly shaken over the mention of her.
“She broke off from Luc. He already held a big majority here. With Alastair he had strength, and with the cops already on the payroll he was untouchable before he even really got going. So she went to Vegas where she could really wreak some havoc, and formed her own family. That's why you couldn't find her, or anything on her. Luc's files probably only mentioned her because he kept a close eye on her. He even had me going out to check in with her every few months, just to be sure she knew she wasn't welcome here."
His voice faltered. Dean had hated those visits, he had gotten so used to feeling invincible, so feared that people flinched just at the mention of his name. But when he went to Vegas? It felt like the entire city had eyes on him, debating whether it was worth putting up with his visits for much longer. As if it all rested on the edge of a sword, and that at any given moment, Abaddon could decide it was time to flex her muscle, and take them all off the chess board.
"Cas, she’s horrific. For as weak as she felt Luc was, she went twice as hard. But she didn’t have others carry out her plans or jobs, she’s extremely hands on. She had people to clean up her messes, and people to hide her crimes, but everything she did, she did herself.”
Dean’s voice had a broken nervous edge to it that he couldn’t steady. When he had offered himself up as bait, to pull the random members of the Family hiding out, he had thought it would be lower level people who weren’t even tattooed. However, now it was going to be a power play. Abaddon would be coming to claim what Luc had left behind, and Dean was the only thing that stood in the way. He had a giant target on his back, and an entire mob coming for him, with the one they called “The Queen Of Hell” leading them.
“She’s gonna be coming for me. For Luc’s turf. Now that he’s out of the picture with all of the upper level Family, it’s wide open for the taking. All the people we funneled money for, the people we handled disputes for, the people we kept rich and powerful, they’re gonna want someone to take up the reins. She’ll think she’s gotta go through me to get it, or get me on her team. I can’t do this again, Cas. I can’t.”
Dean stood and paced the room, the gravity of the situation sinking in fully. This was literally the last thing he had considered when he had agreed to take Luc and the Family down. Abaddon hadn’t even been a distant thought, but the moment Cas had said her name, his blood ran cold. Once again he was out of the frying pan and straight into the flames of Hell.
He laughed a sick, twisted laugh, lacking any humor, at the irony of the situation. Dean had thought once Luc and the Family were in jail, that his life would get easier. Yet here he was, caught in another impossible situation. And this time, even Cas couldn’t help him out. His local FBI branch wouldn’t have any information on Abaddon, and Dean only knew things through her reputation, nothing that could actually help an investigation, or cause her to be arrested and taken off the chess board like Luc.
Cas placed his gun on the table, stood, and crossed the room. He approached Dean cautiously with his palms up, clearly sensing that Dean was on high alert. Dean turned to face him, his jaw clenching and unclenching, his mouth trying to form words that his brain couldn’t manage to put voice to. He had lost Sam, flipped on Luc and put himself in extreme danger, and just when he thought maybe he had gotten out and his luck was turning, another tidal wave hit.
Ripples in the water.
“Dean, listen to me. We’ll handle it. We don’t have to put you out there, we can put you into protective custody. Now that Agent Milton is on administrative leave, and the police officers who were working for you are all facing charges, we can hide you.” His voice was calm, collected, and sure. He understood Dean’s fear, his panic, and he was once again willing to face it head on.
“That won’t work, angel.” Dean’s voice cracked. “She’ll find me. She always will. She’s been on my ass since Luc sent me to Vegas the first time. She won’t stop until she has me.” The nerves in his voice, paired with the sheer panic that had given way to ironic laughter, made Dean sound absolutely unhinged, and he saw Cas flinch, just slightly.
“We can figure it out. But it doesn’t need to happen tonight. The news just broke, she won’t attempt anything so soon, am I correct?” Cas’s eyebrows lifted as he looked at Dean, clearly trying to reassure him, while also judging his sanity in this moment. He lightly rested his hands on Dean’s biceps, a soft but reassuring pressure to ground Dean and help him recenter his emotions.
Dean weighed the merit of that statement. Abaddon likely wouldn’t attempt a takeover this soon, she was far too smart and would make sure she had every scrap of knowledge and information available before risking it. She would need to make sure that Lucifer really had gone down, that it wasn’t a stunt, and that ALL of the upper level Family members went down with him, so that there was no one to take over and fight back against her. Taking over before being absolutely certain that Luc’s turf was ready to be plucked would be disastrous and would risk everything she had built in Vegas.
Cas was right. A slow sense of calm started to pour into his veins, releasing the tension that had clutched his chest tight. Yes, Abaddon was a formidable threat, one they needed to prepare for, but she wasn’t an immediate one. He sighed and attempted to get his heart rate under control. He used to be so strong and steadfast in his emotions, but lately, since Sam died, he felt as if a levy had broken and he no longer had any control. Anger and fear regularly flushed through his system, unchecked. Guilt settled in his stomach realizing that he actually missed being the emotionless enforcer he used to be.
He nodded at Cas, whose expression had become guarded and reserved. His eyes were wide, darting across Dean’s face, attempting to read his expression. Dean’s eyes hyperfocused on Cas. The lines in his face were more pronounced now, looking every bit as exhausted as he must feel. Dean shook his head at the stress he must be putting on this man, who hadn’t asked for any of this.
“I’m sorry, Cas. You didn’t sign up for this shit, it all just got dumped into your lap.” Dean made his way back to the couch, sitting down heavily and exhaling a sigh. Life used to make sense. He hated it, the things he had to do, the things he saw, but he at least felt he had some control. There was a sense of routine, of normal. These past few weeks of being thrown back and forth between extremes had really unsettled him, and left him feeling ready to break.
“I may not have signed up for some of these things, but Dean, you must know that I am choosing this.” He sat next to Dean, slowly and cautiously, clearly still trying to make sure Dean felt safe with him. His hands were in his lap, wringing together nervously. “I promised your brother a great many things and for some of them, I wasn’t able to follow through. I failed him, and that haunts me.”
Cas’s face contorted into a mixture of shame and sadness, the pain he felt over the situation was evident. Dean’s posture softened as his body relaxed slightly. This man carried just as much guilt over Sam’s murder as he did, if not more, simply because he was directly involved. He had chosen to put him underground and to trust Crowley with the location, not to mention why he was being hidden. Dean had no doubts that Cas likely relived each decision he had made every moment, silently damning himself for his choices.
“But one thing I promised him that I am determined to succeed at, is keeping you safe. Dean, you must know that you meant the world to him.” Dean’s breath caught in his chest at Cas's words. “He spoke so highly of you, which is perhaps why I judged you so harshly that day in the police station.”
The confusion on Dean’s face must have been obvious. Cas leaned back into the couch, relaxing some and letting his gaze drift slowly over Dean’s body, eventually meeting his eyes.
“He spoke of his big brother who had raised him, put you on a pedestal I wasn’t sure anyone could reach. He described you as infinitely smarter than you believed you were, and even more cunning. That you were strong, and steadfast in your devotion and loyalty. He wanted to get you out so badly, he felt that being tied to the Family was slowly killing the person he knew you to be. He was terrified of losing you to them, not physically...but losing the softness you held inside.” Cas’s voice was gentle and heartfelt, guilt laced into every word.
He sat there silently, awestruck. Sam thought he was smart? Sam, who had gotten into Stanford on a full-ride scholarship based on the grades he had managed to perfect even while his home life was in utter turmoil. Sam, who was studying to be a lawyer. Sam who would have been the class valedictorian if he had survived to make it to graduation. The shock of that settled in Dean’s mind as he tried to make sense of it. He didn’t think he was smart, really. Cunning, yes, someone in his position needed to be. But he had always thought of himself as more the brawn than the brain.
Hearing that Sam had been that worried and concerned about what the Family was doing to Dean, and how Sam believed he was slipping away, hurt. He had tried to shield Sam from the worst of it, from the constant fear and anxiety being the mob’s number two had pushed onto him. But Sam had always been a perceptive kid.
“When I met you at the precinct, you were so imposing. You knew that people were afraid of you, I could tell by how you walked, how you stood. Your shoulders squared, chin lifted, eyes steady and full of confidence in yourself. You looked every bit the part of Mr. Morningstar’s second in command. I thought to myself that this couldn’t possibly be the brother Sam had regarded so highly. Clearly you were just another cog in the machine I was working to take down.” He shook his head, bowing it slightly.
“But I had failed Sam. He paid the price for my mistakes, and I couldn’t fail him in death. So I watched you. I watched as your demeanor shifted from angry and imposing, to soft and laidback when you spoke to Donna. You were kind, considerate, even gentle with her. I saw you smile.” He chuckled a laugh at this, as if remembering it in precise detail. “I knew then that Sam had been correct. You weren’t a cog, you were trapped in that machine. I knew that even if you didn’t want to turn on Mr. Morningstar, that I would do my absolute best to get you away from him. Sam had spoken about your loyalty, and I didn’t think I could waiver it, but at the very least, I could follow through on my promise to him.”
Cas bit his bottom lip, nervously, as if he had said too much, or delved too deeply into something he wasn’t sure he had been ready to share. He hung his head slightly, but his eyes found Dean’s, brows knitted together, a silent plea to understand his motivations.
“You know what the very first thing that attracted me to you was, angel?” Dean’s eyes were glinting with mischief, enjoying the expressions washing over Cas’s face, between shock and curiosity. He shook his head, and Dean smiled.
“You weren’t afraid of me. For my entire adult life, everyone has always been afraid of me, even my own family. I never had any friends, outside of Benny. I would walk into a room, and people would fight over who could get to the exit the quickest. But you? You have no sense of personal space, Cas.” Dean smiled genuinely and laughed, a deep, throaty chuckle. He watched the corners of Cas’s mouth tick up into an almost-grin.
“When I turned around and you were right there, sizing me up? For the first time in a long time, I felt small. You smiled and my stomach flipped, I was so thrown off by something so miniscule.” He smiled at Cas, to emphasize his point, and it earned him one of Dean’s favorite smiles in return.
They sat there silently for a moment, the weight of the day finally settling upon both of them, their eyes downcast and heavy lidded. Cas attempted to stifle a yawn but failed miserably, his full lips parting wide, a slight sleepy moan slipping past them.
“Shit man, you’ve got to be exhausted. You were probably getting ready to pass out when I just barged in here, I should go.” Dean ruffled his hair in embarrassment and shame, standing quickly and collecting his jacket.
“Dean…” Cas’s voice held caution, almost as if he were nervous to stop Dean from leaving.
“No Cas, it’s fine, we can talk tomorrow. Like you said, nothing else can really be done tonight.” He waved his hand at Cas, brushing him off. “You need sleep. It’s been a long day.”
“Dean.” This time Cas’s voice was solid and sure, full of demand. Dean hesitated and turned around, clearly shocked at the change in his demeanor. “The house…”
Understanding washed over Dean as the breath rushed out of him. The house was swarmed with police, sheriffs, and the FBI. It was all wrapped up tight in police tape, no one in or out. Dean couldn’t go home.
“Oh…” He debated. A hotel was risky, they all had people employed who reported to the Family, and even if the Family was in jail, there was still danger involved. Going to Bobby and Ellen’s was out of the question, he couldn’t risk it, he couldn’t risk them. If anyone was left, he’d be bringing this shit straight to their doorstep. Benny had already done enough for him, and had a pregnant wife and daughter at home, Dean couldn’t even consider going back there.
The realization that he was well and truly alone hit him full force, a punch to the gut knocking the wind out of him. He had always felt alone, especially in that cold detached house full of cold detached people. But for some strange reason, the knowledge that he couldn’t go back there made him feel even more cut off.
“Stay.” Cas’s voice was barely more than a whisper, the echo of it sounding miles away. His eyes were cast down at the floor, nervous and unsure, but even still Dean could see the shift in his body language. His shoulders drooped, anxious and cowering, almost as if he were scared of what Dean’s response would be.
“Of course, angel.”