Chapter Text
Castiel draws in a pained gasp.
He has lungs again, a mouth again. He opens his eyes, and the spinning floor of the dungeon welcomes him as he falls to his knees. He looks to where the brick meets concrete, the last place he saw Dean, the look of remorse and terror still seared into Castiel’s mind. Cas hears a thump behind him. He turns around.
The portal to The Empty bubbles and shudders to a close, and a crumpled body lies beyond it.
“Dean…” Cas hears himself cough out, throat dry and raw.
He crawls on shaking limbs to the form on the ground. This feels too familiar. Cas is vaguely aware of a pounding sound coming from somewhere outside the room. Panic rises from his stomach, making his skin crawl. Pulling Dean into his lap, Cas feels for his pulse with one hand, wrapping his other around the open gash on Dean's wrist.
When he feels a fluttering heartbeat under his fingertips, Cas lets out a relieved breath, still almost foreign in his chest.
He glances around. His bloody sigil on the door is gone, a different one is in its place. The door is almost jumping, about to rip off its hinges from whatever force is behind it. Smoke swirls from a collection of what appears to be spell ingredients sitting on a nearby table, blood dripping off it and collecting in a puddle on the floor.
Dean is ghostly pale. Even his smattering of freckles are duller than Cas remembers, and oh, how Cas remembers. He counted every one of those freckles, and placed them so deliberately all those years ago. Dean’s eyes are bruised and puffy; Castiel longs for the pop of green underneath those fragile eyelids. Cas runs a hand through Dean’s hair, currently matted with sweat and grease. It’s longer than Cas has ever seen it; the strands cling to Cas’ fingers like they missed him.
The door bursts open, revealing Jack and Sam, both looking frantic.
“Castiel!” Jack rushes in, collapsing into Cas' outstretched arm, the one not supporting Dean.
“Cas,” Sam breathes out as he pauses in the doorway, shocked. He blinks down to Dean, a look of anger flashing on his face only for a moment, then races to kneel next to them. He’s carrying a first-aid kit.
“What happened?” Cas croaks out.
Sam responds while checking Dean's vitals and wrapping gauze around his arm. “Dean found a way to bring you back, but I told him it would be risky. The ritual needed a lot of blood and a lot of soul energy.”
“Is he…?” Cas can’t even finish the thought. He chokes on his next breath.
“He’ll be fine!” Sam responds quickly, but his hands curl into fists at his sides when he’s done looking Dean over. “He’s just gonna be out for a while—” Sam lets out a tense breath, “—to recover what the spell took.”
Castiel relaxes the tension in his body, leaning more of his weight on Jack. He runs a hand through Jack's hair, unsure who he’s soothing more.
“Let’s get you both out of this dungeon.” Sam squeezes his shoulder, smiling at him.
Jack sniffles, wiping the tears from his eyes. “I’ll take Dean to his room.” He scoops up Dean into his arms and stands with ease. It’s then that Cas is finally able to get a look at his son.
He’s fuller, broader. Freckles spot his face; and his chin and jaw are scruffed with the beginnings of a beard. He reminds Cas of pictures of Dean as a twenty-something; the few pictures that exist, anyway. The sentiment of it burrows deep in Castiel’s core.
Sam stands. “Here,” he says, helping to haul Cas to his feet. Sam ducks under Cas’ elbow and pulls him close, taking the lion's share of Cas’ weight. Sam stays hunched to keep Cas’ feet on the ground; he almost forgot how tall Sam is. They start to shuffle out of the dungeon.
“How long,” Cas’ throat clicks as he swallows, bone dry, “was I gone?”
“Three years.”
“Oh, God,” Cas whispers.
Sam nods softly, working his jaw.“You’re back now.” He gives Cas an assuring squeeze. “That's all that matters.”
They make their way out of the basement, stopping at the top of the steps.
“Dean,” Cas huffs, too winded to speak a full sentence.
“He’s gonna be okay, Cas. He survived casting the spell. That's the hardest part.”
The blood on the table, how pale Dean was, using his own soul to reach into The Empty. Cas looks at Sam with dawning horror, just now understanding how close Dean was to death.
“I need to see him.”
“Cas—”
“Now, Sam.” Castiel starts pulling Sam toward the line of bedrooms. Sam huffs indignantly but helps Cas along anyway.
Jack meets them in the hallway, immediately moving to support Cas on his other side.
As they fumble into Dean’s bedroom, a sense of relief washes over Cas. There Dean is, resting on his memory foam mattress. Still breathing, still beautiful.
Though Cas is hesitant to leave Dean’s side, Sam convinces him to move to the kitchen to regroup. As Sam and Jack gingerly set Castiel onto one of the kitchen stools, a jabbing pressure starts poking against his outer thigh and hip. Cas shifts, slipping a hand into his pocket.
“Oh,” he exclaims in muted surprise when he pulls his phone out of his pocket.
“You did have it!”
Cas looks up at Jack. “What do you mean?”
“Dean was looking everywhere for your phone when… when we first lost you.” Jack explains.
“Why?”
Jack looks to Sam, who’s looking at Cas’ phone with a furrowed brow.
“We don’t know,” Sam says with a huff, glancing away. “He never told us.”
Cas glances back down to his phone and tries to unlock it. “It’s dead.”
“I have a charger that should work with it!” Jack bolts out of the kitchen.
Cas sets his phone down and leans against the table, taking in the familiar dingy green walls and artificial lighting. Everything looks stale, dusty.
“Sorry about the state of things,” Sam says as he turns on the kitchen sink and grabs a glass from the cabinet. “We don't stay here too often anymore.” He brings the glass to Cas, who takes it with quivering hands.
Castiel hears Jack before he sees him, his quick steps announcing his entrance to the kitchen.
“Here!” Jack hands Cas the charger, lingering close.
Castiel smiles as he takes the charger from him, shoving it and his phone into his coat pocket. He’ll worry about it later. Cas opens his arms. Jack practically crawls into his lap, and Castiel melts into the embrace.
“Careful, Jack, he’s still weak—” Sam starts to say, but tapers off when Cas shakes his head.
“I missed you so much,” Jack says quietly into his coat.
“I missed you too,” Cas answers, though that doesn’t even begin to encapsulate the full force of his feelings.
Sam grabs the glass from the table, filling it up again and setting it close to Cas before sitting down across from him. “Are you hungry?”
Cas takes another appreciative gulp of water before answering, “no.”
“Are you sure? I can make something quick.”
“Thank you Sam, but I’m okay for now.”
There’s an emptiness in the pit of his stomach, in his core, but the idea of eating right now just sounds… wrong.
Sam nods, eyebrows furrowing. “Are you— do you—” he lets out a sigh. “Sorry, this is a lot to take in. I still can’t believe you’re here.”
“Neither can I. How did he even break the deal?”
“It wasn’t just Dean. We helped!” Jack’s voice is muffled from where he’s buried his head inside Cas’ layers.
“Jack’s right. We never stopped looking for you. But…” Sam gestures half-heartedly around the room, “...it took a while.”
“The spell—” Cas starts. Sam’s expression turns pained.
“Cas, it means the world to me that you’re here, but that was one of the dumbest things Dean’s ever done.” If Sam’s tone and the tension in his body say anything, this was a long running argument between the brothers.
Castiel can’t help but smile.
“What?” Sam asks.
“It’s good to see some things never change.”
Sam lets out a mirthless laugh.
Jack pops his head up from under Castiel’s chin. “We have so much to catch you up on!”
Jack moves to the stool next to Cas, and they talk for around an hour like that, giving Castiel an overview of the last three years. There’s only so much information Cas can take before he starts wilting.
“Why don’t we put a pin in this for the night? Everyone’s had a long day, and Cas, I’m sure you need some rest.”
“Someone should be watching over Dean—” Cas starts to stand, legs still shaking. Jack quickly stands to support him.
“Jack and I will take turns. You need to get some sleep,” Sam states with finality.
He gives Cas one final hug for the night, speaking quietly against his shoulder, “it’s so good to see you again.” He nods to Jack as he’s leaving the kitchen. “Help your dad to his room. I’ll take first watch over Dean.”
***
“How are you feeling, Castiel?” Jack asks as they slowly make their way down the hallway.
“Weak, mostly. I’m glad to be back in my body but… It’s strange. I don’t feel like a fully fledged angel, but I certainly don’t feel human, either.”
Jack smiles. “Guess that makes two of us.”
When they reach his bedroom, Cas says, “I’ve got it from here. Thank you, Jack.” Cas feels another tear welling up in his eye as Jack lets him go. “Look at the man you’ve become; I’m so proud of you.”
Jack smiles back softly. “I’m actually… well, I don’t really consider myself a man.” They scratch the back of their neck, bashful, and Cas is hit again with how much Jack reminds him of Dean. “But, we can talk about it more later.”
Cas nods. “Then let me rephrase: I’m so proud of the person you’ve become, Jack. I’d love to hear more about how you’ve grown tomorrow.”
Jack grins, all gap teeth and dimples. Cas feels like he’s seeing the sun for the first time in years.
“O-okay!” Jack stutters, on the brink of crying again.
“Goodnight, Jack. I love you.” Cas reaches out for another hug. Jack presses in.
“Goodnight, Father. I love you too.”
Jack offers one last smile before pulling the door shut behind them.
Cas takes in his room, or what used to be his room. His small collection of personal belongings are nowhere to be found, including his clothes. The stale air and the hearty coating of dust on everything leave him feeling hollow. He sighs.
Castiel has the wherewithal to at the very least take off his coat, belt, and tie for the night. As he tosses his coat onto the desk chair, a thwap of something solid hitting the wood reminds him of his phone. He pulls it out of his pocket, along with the charger. He plugs it into the wall, setting his phone down on the desk. Cas collapses onto the bed, awake for only a moment before his body falls into a numbed slumber.
It can’t be more than an hour before a bright light illuminates Cas’ bedroom. His phone starts chiming and buzzing, vibrating in a small circle where it sits on the desk. Cas groans, flicking on the lamp with malice and rising from his bed out of pure spite. He’s about to rip the phone from its charger when he glances down at the notifications—all of which are from Dean.
302 unopened messages
89 missed calls
40 new voicemails ! Your mailbox is full !
Castiel blinks down at his phone, squinting in confusion. Did Dean wake up and call him? No, there’s no way he was able to leave this many notifications in such a short amount of time.
He pulls the desk chair out, and plops into it heavily to check his phone while it’s still plugged into the wall. He scrolls through the wall of voicemails, seeing Dean's name repeated like a mantra, only interrupted by a few random numbers here and there. Cas squints at the date they’re labeled under; all say today's date.
The very first message is only a few seconds long.
Tap.
Ragged breathing breaks through the tinny speakers, then Deans’ voice, thick with emotion.
“Pick up, pick up, pick up.
…
…
Fuck.”
Click.
Castiel looks down at the recording. That was entirely uninformative. Scrolling up, he looks at the next message. This one is from Sam; it’s only a few seconds longer than the first.
Tap.
“Cas, what’s going on?
I tried to call Dean and he didn’t pick up. Are you two okay?
Call me back.”
Click.
Sam and Jack were trying to break open the door when Castiel returned. Did they try to call me? Cas rubs his eyes. This is getting him nowhere. He hits play on the next one, another from Dean.
Tap.
“Cas. Castiel please
Don’t do this
Don’t be gone
I can’t—
I didn’t even get to—“
Dean takes a shuddering breath.
“I need to get off the floor. I need to get out of this room. Billie's gone. You’re—“
Cas hears a choked sob.
“—You were right here. Now there’s just— fuck, I can’t do this again.”
Click.
A vice grips Castiel’s chest. He plays the message again, listening more closely. He can hear the barely-there echo of Dean's voice, he now realizes, as it bounces off the dungeon walls. This must have been right after The Empty…
Tap.
“Pick—
Please pick up. I don’t know how to—
—Cas, I’m sorry.
If—if you’re not picking up because you’re mad
—Which is—hey, don’t get me wrong, I’m mad at me too.”
Dean lets out a nervous chuckle.
“J–just talk to me, okay? Cas?
P–please?
Castiel?
…”
Click.
Tap.
“Dammit Cas, answer the damn phone!
The calls are going through, why aren’t you picking up?”
There’s a pause, then a soft sigh.
“I just thought that maybe— maybe since I can leave these messages I could… y’know. Maybe it means something?
Maybe you can hear me.”
There’s another pause, where Cas can hear a thick swallow and the clink of glass on a wooden surface.
“If you can hear me, you better fuckin’ listen.
I’m so fuckin’ pissed at you—“
Cas’ eyebrows furrow.
“This last week was…Hell. Hell. And I’d fuckin’ know.
Do you know how it feels to tell Jack you got his Dad killed?
No , you don’t.
The kid already hates me—“
There’s another sound of liquid sloshing and a louder thunk of glass. Dean's voice starts rising in volume.
“And you took the fuckin’ easy way out. Dropping all that on me and fuckin’ bouncing.
You self sacrificin’ bastard
You fuckin’—
—fuckin’—
—Coward.”
Castiel bristles. The sacrifices he’s made for Dean, and he has the audacity to call him a coward? Cas is about to pause the recording, thumb hovering over the screen when all the anger dies in his chest as he hears Dean gasp out a sob.
When Dean speaks again, his voice is soft, pleading.
“You didn’t even give me a chance, Cas.
I keep thinkin’ about it.
I can’t get it out of my head—
What I shoulda done.
Shoulda stopped Billie, saved you.
Stopped you from makin’ that damned deal.
There had to have been another way.”
Dean goes quiet for another moment, and Cas presses a hand to his own mouth, tears threatening to spill.
“I shoulda—
I shoulda said somethin’
I shoulda told you that—
That I—
—Instead I just sat there doing fuckin’ nothing—!”
There’s a loud clattering. When Dean speaks again, he sounds distant. Oh, Cas thinks, he dropped the phone. Or threw it.
Dean lets out a hushed and broken sob.
“Why can’t I say it?
—He’s already gone—
why can’t I fucking say it?!”
There’s a crash, and a raining sound of glass.
Cas sucks in a breath, tears spilling. He tries to muffle his own stuttering breath to hear the rest of the recording.
Over the speakers, panicked steps start quiet and get louder.
“Dean?”
Sams’ voice through the receiver is muffled, distant, scared.
He hears Deans’ heavy boots crunching over glass and the slam of a door.
“Dean?! What—?”
“FUCK OFF.
…”
Click.
Castiel’s own phone clatters to the desk as he muffles a sob with his hands. Guilt and shame make his stomach turn.
He checks how many voice messages he still has. 35. He scrolls down to the bottom and taps the next unopened message. Clutching his phone tight, he raises it to his ear.
Tap.
“I know it’s been… a while.
Since, uh, since I last called.
Was kinda hopin’ for a call back, but—”
Dean lets out a terse sigh.
“—no dice.
Your voicemail is alive, despite your phone being untraceable by GPS, so I figure it’s with you in…
…
So, I just, y’know, thought I’d check in.
Things are… things are okay. Sam’s helping Eileen out with a hunt, so it’s just me n’ Jack this weekend.
He’s been quiet, since you— after—
—for the last couple months.
I can’t blame him.
After my dad was gone I barely wanted to talk. Hell, all I wanted to do was scream.”
Castiel has half a mind to run to Jack's room and give them another hug.
“We’re gonna look through the bunker archives, double check every entry about The Empty, see if we missed something.
There’s gotta be something.
Sam keeps bitchin’ at me to get out more.
But I still can’t—I walk by the door to the dungeon and I just—
I can’t even look at it.
…
I’m not running away.
I’m not leaving you behind.
There’s something here to find you.
I know it.
I’ll talk to you soon, Cas, promise.”
Click.
“This was my decision Dean. You can’t blame yourself,” Cas says to the phone, to himself, to an unconscious Dean three rooms over. Castiel scrubs a hand over his face, feeling the press of his cheekbones under his fingers.
He put Dean through all this; Dean left these for him to hear. The least Cas can do is keep listening.
Tap.
“Hey, Cas.
If you’re able to hear these, at all,
I’d love a response.
A call back, a text, a dead crow on the doorstep, something.
Anything to know there’s even a chance you can hear me.
I know you probably aren’t… awake, or whatever.
I just— trail’s startin’ to go cold.”
Dean lets out a heavy sigh. Cas hears the thunk of a bottle.
“We still haven’t found any leads.
Turns out there's not a ton of info about the Empty out there.
Funny, considering how often it’s fucked up our lives.”
Dean huffs, then takes a long drink. He continues, exhaustion laden in his voice.
“It’s really, really not funny.
It mostly just sucks.
Sucks major fucking ass.
But hey, I’m still kickin’. I’m gonna keep lookin’
I gotta.
I don’t know what else I’m gonna do if I don’t.”
Click.
Dean and Jack’s search must not have turned up any leads. If Dean didn’t find the spell they used in the bunker, where in the world did he find it? Cas squints down at his phone.
Tap.
“Heya, Cas.”
Dean's voice sounds weary, strung thin.
“I dunno why I keep doin’ this… calling.
Old habits, I guess.
Just been thinkin’ about everything and…”
Dean lets out a slow, controlled breath.
“The deal’s why you stopped me from talking in Purgatory, isn’t it?
I coulda lost you right then and there.
If it’s true, when you said you heard my prayer, I hope you know—
—God, I hope you knew—
I—“
Dean takes a sharp breath in. Cas holds his.
“I love you.”
The world feels like it stops for a moment. Cas wraps his arm around his own chest, feeling like if he doesn’t, his heart may spill out.
“I don’t— I don’t even know if that’s worth anything, now.
If it’s worth anything to you. But I—
I do.
I love you, Castiel.
I have for a while. Years, probably.”
Dean lets out a ghost of a lifeless laugh. Castiel savors the sound, as bitter as it is.
“We’re a couple a’ idjits, huh? That’s what Bobby would say.
I miss him, too.
I’m tired, Cas. I’m tired of losing people.
But we’re not done yet.
We’ve been searching for a way to get you outta there.
It’s been… months of nothin’ but dead ends, but—
—We’ve done more with less.
I wanna say it to you in person, Cas.
A—and I will, soon.
I love you.
Bye.”
Click.
“I love you too, Dean,” Cas says into the microphone, voice a hoarse whisper.
It’s only a recording, but Castiel closes his eyes and smiles, soaking in the exchange anyway. His heart is hammering, hands shaking. Before he presses play on the next message, Cas can’t help but glance behind him, expecting the gaping maw of the Empty to swallow him again. All that greets him is his disheveled bed.
Tap.
“I…”
Dean clears his throat.
“I fucked up big time, Cas.
We were on a hunt and shit just wasn’t goin’ according to plan—
—when does it ever, with us—
—our lead for a vamp coven was wrong. It was those fuckin’—
Uh,
— Shit , what did you say they were—?
The—the Werepires, like the pack we ran into in 2015.
We thought we were ready for this case but we just weren’t.
Eileen was helping me take one down and Sammy was coverin’ Jack.
But they just kept pilin’ in— the pack was huge.”
Dean pauses, takes a breath, stress from the hunt still pulling his vocal chords taut.
“Sam got flanked. I shoulda been more aware of where he was at. I coulda helped block that blow.
I was tryin’ to hold ‘em off while Eileen got Sammy out.
I didn’t see one of the fuckers rushing from my left—but Jack did.
He got right between me n’ the thing. Stopped it from biting my head off.
But it—
—God, it tore into him.
I thought it was gonna kill him.”
Dean chokes on his own emotion. Cas swallows thickly. He saw Jack and Sam only an hour ago; he knows they’re fine. But the pit in his stomach still makes him nauseous.
“I know Jack’s hardy. He doesn’t have all his powers but he’s still a nephilim. He’s sturdy and can heal quicker.
But seeing him hurt I still—
I just—”
Dean takes a shuddering breath.
“We all got back to the bunker, mostly in one piece.
But then I got—
I—I’ve—“
Castiel hears a slam from somewhere close to the mic on Dean's phone. Cas wonders if he hit the wall or a table with his fist.
“My… alcohol was— is—
I mean, who am I kidding.
It’s been a problem for a
long,
long, time.
And with you being gone…”
Dean pauses, clears his throat again.
“…I was drunk.
I was drinkin’ before the fight—
They got hurt and I—
I was drunk and angry at myself for not being—
For—for letting it happen—
For being drunk and letting it happen
—so I drank some more an—
—And I saw Jack all bandaged up and I just got so—so scared that I wasn’t gonna be able to protect him or Sammy or Eileen or anyone—”
He stops with a gasp, then continues, so, so softly.
“...I tore into the kid, too.
Hell, I don’t even remember what I said, Cas.
He didn’t even yell back. He shoulda—
He was protecting me—
No kid should halfta—“
Dean hiccoughs.
“He said he was sorry.
I didn’t want him to apologize, he should’ve been the one chewin’ me out for fucking up.
I was— it was— Sammy—
…
Sam got between us.
That snapped me out of it.
Bec—“
Dean chokes on another sob and swears under his breath.
“—Because Sammy n’ I have done that dance before. But—
—but it used to be me protecting him from Dad.
…
Fuck."
Dean coughs out a few more sobs. He swallows, thickly.
“I don’t wanna be this man, Cas.
I don’t wanna be a drunk, angry man.
Who—whose family’s afraid of him.
They don’t deserve that.
You don’t deserve that.
…
I don’t wanna be a violent man.
…
But I don’t know if I can help it.
I was written this way.”
Click.
Castiel sets the phone down. He runs his hands through his hair, vaguely aware of how cold his own fingers are (he should probably put his coat back on). He sits in the too-cold room, hands in his lap, staring at the ceiling for a century of moments, processing.
He should be angry at Dean. He is angry at Dean, he realizes. But his heart aches for Dean too.
Had Cas been there, well…
he wasn’t.
But he is here now. He does the only thing he can.
Cas keeps listening.