Chapter Text
Dean wakes up, at 9 o’clock in the morning, to the smell of bacon and eggs. He blinks his eyes open and there is light pouring in through the door he leaves cracked open nowadays. He yawns and stretches and the first thing he hears other than the faint sizzling from the kitchen are clicky footsteps from just outside his bedroom door. Miracle pushes the door open the rest of the way and practically dive-bombs Dean, who catches her, wrapping his arms around her body he’s pretty sure is 90% fluff.
“Hey, buddy, good morning,” he says, burying his face in her fur. Miracle’s tail wags enthusiastically.
Dean stays holding her for a few minutes. It’s Thursday, beautiful weather by the looks of it. Another long day to spend doing whatever.
He sighs and lets Miracle go, who immediately dashes off back to the kitchen, presumably to try and steal Sam’s bacon again.
Dean doesn’t bother getting dressed, he simply throws on his dead guy robe and follows Miracle.
“Morning,” Sam greets from the stove, his back turned to Dean. Two pieces of toast pop out of the toaster.
“It’s hot,” Sam says without looking up. Dean grabs the toast and, of course, it’s hot. He winces.
He looks around for Miracle.
“Where’s the dog?”
“She tried to steal my bacon, so I temporarily banned her from the kitchen,” Sam says with a hint of a smile. Dean knows he secretly loves that dog as much as he does.
Dean grabs a plate and sits down at the table, opposite Sam’s laptop and notes. He raises his eyebrows. “You looking for a case?”
Sam glances at him over his shoulder. “Uh, not really – I mean, I was thinking of putting Eileen and her guys on this potential vamp case. It’s quiet though. Not much going on.”
Dean frowns. “Why do you wanna put Eileen on it?”
Sam brings the pan over and serves himself and Dean their bacon and eggs.
“I don’t know, man, I mean, don’t you think we deserve a break?” Sam sits down.
Dean takes a bite of his eggs. “Why? There’s still monsters out there, Sam.”
“Chuck’s dead, Jack is hands-off. It’s barely been a month since-“ Sam cuts himself off as Dean shoots him a look. He swallows. “I just… I think we deserve some time off. You especially.”
Dean meets Sam’s eyes. He’s giving him the same look everyone’s given him since… it happened. Pity, worry, concern. He hates it.
“I’m fine, Sam.”
“Dean-“
“I just don’t wanna get rusty.”
Dean forces his face into his most easy-going smile.
“Okay, well-“
Whatever Sam was going to say next gets cut off by Miracle’s loud barking and growling from down the hall. Dean tenses, Sam sets his fork down on the table top. “There’s… no one else here, right?” Dean asks, eyes fixed on the doorway.
“No, Eileen left last night.”
Miracle’s barks get louder and louder, but they aren’t the only sound coming closer – there is the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps approaching. Dean instinctively grabs the gun he duct taped under the table, when –
“Dean?”
Dean freezes.
There, in the doorway, is Cas.
Everything that happens then is a blur. Sam throws some holy water on him, makes him touch the silverware, scolds the dog, who still hasn’t stopped barking, and hugs Cas. Cas, who is alive.
“Dean?”
Dean blinks. Cas is standing in front of him now, concern written all over his face.
“Hi, Cas,” Dean manages before he pulls Cas into a hug. He claps him on the back a few times and pulls away too quickly. Cas doesn’t say anything else.
“How’d you get out?” Sam asks, beaming.
“I don’t know, I was worried it might’ve been you two or Chuck, but-“ he pauses, searching Dean’s face. Dean looks away.
“Chuck’s not around anymore, Cas, we uh… we won. Jack is sort of God now,” Sam explains, adding an awkward chuckle. Cas looks like he has a million questions, but doesn’t choose to ask any of them now.
“Uh… it must’ve been Jack, I suppose,” he says instead.
Sam nods. “Well, it’s great to have you back, man. Hasn’t been the same without you. Right?”
Dean realizes he’s being spoken to. “Yeah,” he says, “it’s- yeah, good. Good you’re home, pal.”
Cas nods, smiles. Dean thinks it doesn’t look genuine.
As if on cue, Miracle whines.
“Oh, I’ll take her,” Sam says easily and Dean immediately panics.
“What? No, you don’t have to do that, she loves her morning walks with me. I’ll take her. Besides, you already made breakfast.”
Sam squeezes Dean’s shoulder. “It’s fine, Dean. I think you two should probably talk anyway.”
“Why?” Dean protests and he knows he’s being difficult about this. Sam just gives him a look, like he knows something Dean hasn’t even told him.
Sam leaves the kitchen without another word and goes to grab his jacket and Miracle’s leash and Miracle, the traitor, actually follows Sam.
The bunker’s door slams behind the two of them and leaves in its wake a silence so heavy Dean swears he can hear the electricity.
Cas opens his mouth as if to say something, then closes it again. His gaze falls onto the kitchen tiles.
Guess it’s up to Dean, huh?
“Um,” Dean starts eloquently, “how are you doing?”
Cas looks up. “Fine.”
Great.
“I mean… you still got your wings or…?”
“Oh,” Cas says, “No, I believe I’m human now.”
Dean balks at that. “What? Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“Wow.”
Dean watches Cas then – the way he holds himself, his face, his clothes, his hair. It’s all so painfully Cas. He wants to reach out and touch him, but… well, he’s not entirely sure what he’s allowed to do now after Cas’s declaration before he went and died on him.
Silence falls again.
Okay, if Cas isn’t gonna adress the elephant in the room, Dean supposes he will have to. He leans back against the table, acting as nonchalant as he possibly can even though he’s sure Cas must be able to hear his heartbeat with how much he absolutely does not want to have this conversation. He takes a deep breath, and steels himself.
“Cas, can we talk about that goodbye?”
Cas visibly tenses up. Not that he was particularly relaxed before, but still.
“I have nothing else to say,” Cas states.
“Okay,” Dean says. He waits.
Cas just stares at him, chin tilted slightly towards the floor.
Dean sighs.
“Look, I don’t know how to do this, man, I mean, I…” Dean trails off.
“You’re my best friend,” he says, finally.
Cas swallows.
“And I… you know,” Dean says, “I love you.”
Cas breathes.
“But… as… as a friend.”
The clock ticks deafeningly loud.
Cas exhales, slowly, softly.
Dean feels horrible. The worst part is that Cas doesn’t even look surprised, but the disappointment is apparent nonetheless.
“I understand, Dean,” he says, his voice admirably even considering the asshole he’s in love with just rejected him. “I didn’t confess my love to you expecting reciprocity.”
Dean chews on his bottom lip, the guilt an ugly crawling thing eating him up from the inside out.
“I appreciate your… honesty. And your friendship is more than enough,” Cas says. Dean wants to believe him, but it sounds rehearsed. Not much he can do about it now anyway, it’s not like he’s gonna magically fall in love with the guy, as much as he’d love to try for Cas’s sake. God knows he deserves the happiness, though he kinda screwed himself from the start choosing Dean as the one to fulfill that role.
But if Cas says he wants to be friends – they’re going to be friends. Just like always. And eventually, Cas will get over it or get used to it and they’ll be back to how they were before. Until then, Dean can pretend everything is normal. Fake it till you make it, right? He’s excellent at that.
“Good, that’s… good,” Dean says, shooting Cas a smile. Cas actually returns it this time.
God, he missed him.
“Come here,” Dean says and pulls Cas into another embrace. Tears sting in his eyes and he blinks them down. It’s how it’s gotta be, there’s nothing he can do to change how he feels. Doesn’t change the fact that he feels like crap anyway. Cas is hesitant hugging him back at first, but when he does, he fists his hands into the back of Dean’s robe, like he’s clinging onto him. Dean closes his eyes. Cas smells different – not much, but enough to be noticeable. Probably a side effect of being human or maybe from the Empty.
When they part, Cas doesn’t retreat to the other end of the room; he just stays in Dean’s personal space. Like old times, Dean thinks fondly.
“We’re back!” Sammy calls as the front door slams shut and Miracle breaks into another fit of loud, excited barks.
“Your dog is very loud,” says Cas, frowning.
Dean chuckles. “Yeah, she’s quite the personality. Sorry about that, by the way, I hope she didn’t bother you too much. I scooped her up from the side of the road, so you’ve gotta excuse the bad manners.”
Cas actually smiles at that. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
Dean rolls his eyes. “Shut up,” he shoves at Cas playfully, “I don’t see Jody and the girls nearly enough, Jack only pops in once in a blue moon and you died, I needed someone to keep me company.”
“What about me, you asshole?” Sam calls in passing.
“Miracle’s more fun,” Dean retorts.
As if on cue, the dog-shaped ball of fur comes bouncing into the kitchen, nearly toppling Dean over.
“Hey, so uhh… we’re thinking of checking out this potential vamp case just down the road, you wanna come along?” Dean asks, trying to sound as casual as possible.
Cas is quiet for a moment.
“You’re hunting again?” He says. It’s more of a statement than a question and Dean swears he can hear a trace of that same worry he detected in Sam’s voice.
“Yeah, of course,” Dean says, annoyed, “What else would I be doing?”
“Alright,” Cas is hesitant, “But I’m not sure I’ll be much help. I don’t have my powers now, of course.”
Right.
“Oh, you’ll be fine. Not like it’s your first rodeo.”
Cas nods. Dean claps a hand to Cas’s shoulder and pushes past him to get dressed.
The drive to the crime scene is tense, so, naturally, Dean blasts music so Sam doesn’t start a conversation. He can smell it from a mile away and he knows it’s coming, so the best thing to do is to prevent it from happening for as long as possible. He’s just… not ready. Right now Dean just wants everything to be back to normal for one goddamn day and a simple case is just what he needs. When Sam sees that, maybe he’ll stop with all the fussing. As for Cas, well… he figures they both just need some more time to adjust – Cas especially. Dean doesn’t know a whole lot about being an angel, but he does know what it’s like to be thrust back into your human state and the adjustment period that comes with it. It was bad enough for him after his little demon phase, he can’t even imagine what it must be like for Cas, who has never even been human before. At least, not for good, like he is now.
Dean taps the steering wheel, anxiety and guilt churning in his gut.
Maybe he should say something, ask Cas how he’s really doing. It would be safe now, with Sam in the car. Dean doubts Cas would bring up the love confession thing in front of Sam.
He sees the yellow crime scene tape in the distance. Maybe later, then.
Dean parks the Impala on the other side of the road, opposite the house.
“You still got that badge?” he asks Cas.
“Uh, no,” Cas says.
Sam opens the glove compartment and rummages through the pile of fake IDs and FBI badges they keep in there. “Ah, there,” he says and hands Cas one. Cas gratefully accepts it.
They get out of the car and walk up to the front door of the house, where an officer is waiting for them.
“Singer, Kripke and Carver, FBI,” Sam introduces them and they flash their IDs. Cas’s is upside down. Dean suppresses a smile.
“Feds do home invasions now?” the officer says skeptically, a hint of mocking in his tone.
“Oh, yeah. We’re full service,” Dean replies, equally dry.
“Something weird over the wire. One of the bodies... its blood was drained?” asks Sam, pocketing his badge.
The officer sighs. “Yeah, throat torn out, the whole nine. Some kind of cannibal crap.”
Dean nods. “And the kids?”
“Taken.”
“What about the mom?” says Sam, peering into the house over the cop’s shoulder.
“They left her, but they ripped out her tongue.”
Dean grimaces. Jeez.
“Do you have any idea what the perpetrators looked like?” Cas asks from behind Dean.
“Kinda. She drew this,” the officer says, showing Cas a drawing of a person wearing some creepy ass skeleton mask.
“Hey, sarge, you got a sec?” a voice calls from inside the house.
The cop excuses himself and vanishes into the house.
“I recognize that face,” Dean says, shooting Sam a look.
Sam nods, already turning around to go back to the car. “Me too.”
Cas follows the two of them, looking a little lost. Dean slows and lets Sam walk ahead so he can walk to the Impala with Cas.
Sam is leaning against Baby with dad’s journal in his hands, rifling through it, searching for where they’ve both seen that skeleton mask before.
“Alright, let’s see.” Dean looks over Sam’s shoulder. There it is – the drawing of the same mask. “Dad was working a string of kidnappings along Route 77.”
Sam opens Google Maps on his phone.
“Akron, Canton, East Sparta,” he announces, flashing his screen towards Cas as well, so he can see, “He didn’t find much, but apparently the kids were taken and the adults had their tongues ripped out.”
“Just like here,” Cas says.
“You know what this is?” Dean says excitedly, “Mimes.”
Sam rolls his eyes.
“Evil mimes,” Cas adds and Dean beams at him.
“Exactly. Vamp-mimes.”
Sam closes the book with a dramatic snap. “Alright, well, if this is the same nest and the pattern holds, then they’ll target Canton next. And, according to Dad, they target families that are living outside of town, that are isolated. Kids usually between the ages of five and ten.”
Dean’s already half in the driver’s seat. “It’s a twelve hour drive to Canton, if we leave in a couple hours we can get there early tomorrow morning.”
Sam glances at Cas. “You wanna ride shotgun?”
“No,” Cas says and gets into the back seat. Sam sighs – whatever’s going on now between Dean and Cas, he’s not going to comment on it. Dean hopes he never will. He starts the car and drives.
Right on schedule, the three of them are back in the car and off towards Canton only two hours later.
The weather is beautiful and Castiel is stubbornly staring out the window, watching the buildings and trees go by. Dean has the radio on a low volume and Castiel relaxes a bit. Anything is better than awkward silence or obnoxiously blaring classic rock. He has decided not to bring up his feelings for Dean again – at least, not for a while. It’s clear that Dean does not wish to talk about it any more than necessary. Castiel assumes this must be uncomfortable for him and, despite not regretting saving Dean, of course, he finds himself musing what his life would be like now had he never told Dean how he felt. He would likely be dead still and so, presumably, would Dean and Sam. He wonders why he was brought back at all; he never intended on actually facing the consequences of his actions after his sacrifice and he had been at peace with that.
Now, he feels like he’s walking a tightrope with Dean. He doesn’t really know how to act around him. Dean said he wanted to go back to being “like they were before”, but Castiel is starting to doubt that’s even possible.
He turns his gaze on Dean now. He’s watching the road, eyes squinted against the sunlight softly dancing over his features. He has little wrinkles around his eyes. His hair looks soft and maybe a little longer than Castiel remembers it. His stubble hasn’t been shaved in a few days. Castiel wonders if that’s Dean finally letting go of some of the pressure he has always felt to keep up appearances, or if it’s the opposite: Dean is tired. He’s acting surprisingly normal for someone who has just more or less killed God and Castiel isn’t quite sure if that's a good sign or not. He used to be able to read Dean so well when he was an angel, used to be able to see his soul. Now he can’t help but feel that something has irreversibly shifted between them, no matter how much Dean acts like everything is fine.
“Think the dog’s okay?” Dean says and Castiel watches his lips around the words.
“I think she’s fine,” comes Sam’s reassuring reply.
“Yeah… just, you sure that doggy daycare got good reviews?”
“It got great reviews.”
“I guess.”
Dean’s fingers tap the steering wheel lightly.
Sam watches him intently. “You know, we could always bring her.”
Dean stares at him and Castiel looks away, just in case Dean notices him looking. He goes back to watching the trees. They’re so very green.
“On a case?” Dean sounds appalled. “No! Pass. I love that dog.”
“You bring me!” Sam argues, feigning insult. “And Cas,” he adds.
“Yeah, well,” Dean smirks, “he doesn’t lick my face every morning, now, does he?”
Sam makes a sound somewhere between disgust and astonishment. “Maybe he should,” Sam mutters and Dean glares at him. “Ha-ha. Hilarous.” Castiel isn’t sure whether to feel insulted or not, so he just ignores the interaction entirely.
The drive passes either in comfortable silence or with Sam and Dean chatting about random things. Their conversation is light. Castiel notices the way Sam carries himself is different, too. He seems more relaxed, an easy smile on his lips.
They stop for coffee and a bathroom break after four hours and afterwards Sam drives while Dean naps in the passenger seat. Castiel becomes suddenly aware of how bone-tired he is and he drifts off into a dreamless sleep himself.
When he wakes up again, it’s starting to get light outside. Sam pulls into the parking lot in front of the motel, cutting off the engine and rubbing at his eyes. Dean yawns and Castiel feels an urge to mimic the motion.
He climbs out of the Impala, limbs stiff as Sam and Dean grab their bags from the trunk. They check in and get two rooms. Dean tosses Cas the keys to his and tells him to get some more sleep. They’re probably going to have a busy day filled with research and then, if all goes well and they find the nest, hit that in the evening. Dean and Sam disappear into their room. Castiel sighs and unlocks the door to his. It smells stuffy and the furniture is outdated by about 30 years at least. The bed looks comfortable enough though and there is hot water, so he’s satisfied. The room is very quiet without the company of the brothers. He thinks next time he’ll convince Dean to bring Miracle along, just so he has someone for company, though he has the sinking suspicion that Miracle doesn’t like him all that much. He shucks his coat and takes off his shoes and tie, then flops down onto the bed.
The sun isn’t up get and the world is cast in a beautiful but eerie pale blue glow. Castiel turns towards the windows. He’s glad he doesn't have to sleep in darkness; he doesn’t think he could. He watches the sun rise, and lets his mind wander. He thinks about Chuck, the apocalypse. The case. Jack. Mostly, his mind just wanders back to Dean. He rolls over and stares at the ceiling. There is a mysterious brown spot just above him. He thinks of the way Dean had stared at him in the kitchen, like someone had poured a bucket of ice cold water over him. How he hadn’t spoken a word to him in the first few minutes of Castiel’s return. He thinks of how Dean had leaned against the kitchen counter, keeping a safe distance to Castiel. How he had hugged him stiffly, his hands touching him as though scalded. How Dean had stared at him for what felt like hours, awkward and wary, before he finally managed to force out the words he’d longed to hear for so long. I love you.
I love you.
You’re my best friend. I love you.
How he had shifted from one foot to the other, chewing on his lip.
But as a friend.
He remembers his green eyes, wide and terrified and he remembers those same terrified green eyes filled with tears as Dean begged him not to do this, Cas, while the Empty materialized behind him, ready to swallow him and drag him away to nothing. He thinks of Dean, on his knees, bloody and bruised, begging for Castiel to come back to him and of the whispered prayers Castiel heard every night in purgatory, Dean with tears in his eyes and dirt stains on his knees telling him he needs to say something and the way his heart had quickened at that - and he thinks he must not have known Dean as well as he’d thought. Then again, human emotion has always been somewhat of a riddle to him. Dean reciprocating the depth of Castiel’s love for him was more of a foolish hope than a set truth, anyway.
Castiel buries his face in his hands and tries to breathe normally. Being human now also adds a whole new layer of confusing emotions to this whole situation, he realizes, desires he was good at keeping at bay before creeping to the surface.
He thinks of Dean’s eyes again, his nose, his lips. His freckles and the way the sun danced over them in the car earlier. He thinks of the way his hair curls slightly behind his ears where he hasn’t cut it in a while. Of Dean’s hands, gripping the wheel, his broad shoulders. His thighs. Castiel groans in frustration, turning around and burying his face in his pillow. He tries to think of anything else in the world as he forces himself to go back to sleep and he’s glad that, so far, he hasn’t had any dreams yet.
“You okay?” Dean asks Sam when Sam reemerges from the bathroom.
“Yeah? Why?” Sam looks genuinely confused.
“Well, for starters, I only drove like four hours and then you drove the rest of the way and didn’t even wake me to switch?” Dean raises his eyebrows at Sam.
Sam exhales.
“Well, you know,” he says, as if that explains it. “You looked like you needed the rest.”
Dean stares. “All I do is sleep in.”
“Exactly, you clearly have some catching up to do,” Sam argues, but Dean doesn’t buy it, not for a damn second.
“Is this about Cas again?” he presses, the uncomfortable memory of Sam trying to have a whole talk about the Cas-situation a few weeks ago coming back to him like flashes of actual PTSD.
Sam’s lips turn downward, the picture of innocence. He sits down on the edge of his bed.
“No.” Yes.
Dean rolls his eyes.
“Okay, look, I’m just trying to make sure you’re good, man. These last few weeks have been…” he trails off. Dean stares at him, expectant. Sam’s searching for words. “… Weird.” is what he settles on in the end.
“Weird,” Dean parrots. “I’m fine, Sam.”
“Yeah, exactly, it’s… it’s weird.”
Dean’s pretty sure the question marks in his brain must be visible in his face, because Sam clarifies: “I mean, I’ve seen the way you get after losing Cas, Dean. Last time you were pretty messed up. I’m just worried that-“
“Hold up, lemme get this straight. You’re saying you’re worried about me, because I’m… fine? What, are you worried I’m repressing my feelings or whatever?” Dean says, putting on a fake deep voice.
“I didn’t say that, but yeah, maybe.”
“Oh, come on.”
“And this case, Dean, I mean I’m glad you wanna hunt and I’ll gladly work it with you, you know I do, but I just hope you’re not… you know, running from something when now is the perfect time to take a breather. You know, think about your life, figure out what you wanna do now that we can actually make our own decisions.”
“What do you mean, ‘what I wanna do’, we hunt monsters, Sam, that’s the job. Just cause Chuck’s gone don’t mean we can just check out.”
Dean is incredulous. He doesn’t even know what the fuck Sam is talking about, or where this is coming from. He’s fine, Cas was dead and it sucked, now he’s alive and it’s better. He’s fine. Chuck’s gone, they’re free, world keeps spinning yadda yadda yadda. What the fuck else is he supposed to do other than what he’s always done? He hated sitting on his ass in the bunker doing nothing all day.
Sam shakes his head. “I’m too tired to argue, man. Just… think about it, okay? And talk to Cas about whatever it is you guys are avoiding, you’re being weird.”
“Cas is always weird,” Dean retorts and Sam snorts.
“I’m not talking about him, dude.”
“Whatever,” Dean says, pulling out his phone so he has an excuse to ignore Sam.
A few hours and three cups of coffee (each) later, Sam, Dean and Cas are hunched over Sam’s laptop, narrowing down the list of possible families the vampires might target next. They’ve got it down to two and now there’s kind of a 50/50 chance they’re right and they just gotta hope they pick the right house.
When the sun has set, they pile into the Impala, Dean in the driver’s seat, and head to one of the two suburban white picket fence houses they suspect will be hit next.
Dean parks the Impala behind another car at the side of the road. Now they just have to wait and hope.
Sam is quiet beside him, watching the house like a hawk. There are still lights on. Dean scans the immediate area and doesn’t spot any suspicious looking vehicles or people – other than themselves. He chews on his bottom lip again.
“God, I hope this is the right house,” he mutters, to no one in particular. Sam doesn’t acknowledge him and Cas has barely said a word all day. In fact, Dean can’t even remember him saying anything other than an ill-tempered “Good morning”.
Dean sneaks a glance in the rearview and Cas is staring out the window, as suspected.
“See anything interesting?” Dean says, by way of breaking the silence and Cas meets his eyes in the mirror. He looks at Dean, studying his face, seemingly, and Dean frowns. He can’t help but squirm in his seat a little. He turns around to face him, eyes questioning.
“Depends,” Cas says and Dean chuckles awkwardly.
“Guys, look,” Sam points out a cartoonishly suspicious looking black van pulling up outside the house opposite.
“Are vampires always this stereotypically predictable?” Cas questions, frowning, and Dean laughs.
“Alright, let’s go,” Sam gets out of the car, machete in hand, leaving the door ajar so as to not cause any noise. He sneaks around the various parked cars, fences and hedgerows round back while Dean and Cas approach from the other side, praying the vampires don’t spot them first. Two men in skeleton masks carrying large knives get out of the van, marching towards the house’s front door.
“Hey!” Sam calls and as guy number 1 turns around, he chops off his head.
“Oh shit-“ the other says and steps toward Sam, knife in hand. Dean aims his gun at the vamp’s head and shoots. The dude goes down and Sam and Cas immediately spring into action – they grab him and load his limp body into the trunk, while Dean pulls the other body (and the head) back into the black van. They’ll deal with that later. Probably.
Baby comes screeching to a halt beside the van and Dean jumps in. They speed off.
They drive to the edge of town and, for some reason, Sam decides to interrogate the guy by tying him to a tree stump, instead of a chair. Dean doesn’t really care as long as he gets to chop a vamp into bits, so he doesn’t argue.
Cas yanks off the vamp’s mask and slaps him a few times.
The vampire grunts and blinks awake.
“Hey there, Sleeping Beauty,” Dean smirks.
“What’d you hit me with?” the vamp asks, movements fuzzy.
“Oh, it speaks.”
“Then it’s not a mime,” Cas remarks.
“Still evil, though,” Dean chimes in cheerfully.
The vamp’s brow furrows.
“Bullet soaked in dead man’s blood,” Sam explains.
Evil vamp scoffs. “Creative.”
“Alright, Epstein, let’s talk kids,” Dean says, crouching down to meet the guy’s eyes. “Those two you grabbed a couple nights ago, where are they?”
The vampire laughs.
“You should really tell him,” Sam says.
“And, what, if I do, you let me go?”
Dean shakes his head, fake smile plastered on. “Oh, no, no, no. This isn’t a you-walk-out- of-here kind of a situation. But see, if you tell us quick, you get this.” He holds up the machete. “But if you take your time, this guy,” he points at Cas, “will cut you into little pieces with that.”
On cue, Cas opens up a switchblade.
The not-mime studies Cas a minute. “He like your bodyguard or something? You afraid to get your hands dirty, princess?” he sneers.
Dean sets his jaw. “This is quick,” he says, ignoring the bait. “The itty bitty little blade is gonna take a lot of sawing to get your head off and you’ll feel every bit of that.”
“Could take hours,” Sam adds.
Panic flashes across the vamp’s face. He swallows.
“They’re not dead. They’re with the nest, we take a harvest. Every few years we grab a couple kids, raise them up, feed them right, juice them. We don’t do fast food.”
Dean grimaces.
“Where are they?” Sam demands.
“Barn. Five miles that way, follow that road and then turn left into the woods. There’s a dirt road. It’s at the end of that,” the vamp confesses.
Dean nods, once, stands and slices his head clean off.
That was surprisingly easy.
They bury the body and head to the barn.
“This is the place?” Sam says, staring at it through the windshield.
“Dark, creepy and like something out of a Wes Craven slasher? Yeah. It's 100% the place,” Dean says, sighing. This definitely looks like a place you’d get killed.
“I don’t like this,” Cas comments.
“Me neither,” Dean agrees.
“Might be a trap,” says Sam, but he gets out of the car nonetheless. Dean and Cas follow suit. Sam is rummaging through the trunk when Dean grabs Cas’s arm before he can run off to help Sam.
“Hey, uh,” he clears his throat, “Listen, Cas, I’m sorry about how… weird things have been since you got back, I just… I’m sorry.”
“The manner of my death complicated our relationship,” Cas states. Dean shifts uncomfortably.
“It’s not your fault, man,” he says.
“I know,” Cas says, “It’s not yours either, Dean.” In the background Sam is still rummaging through the trunk.
“You did good back there, buddy. When we go in there, please don’t do anything stupid, alright?” Dean cocks an eyebrow at Cas.
“I promise I won’t get myself killed,” Cas says dryly.
“Good. You’re not allowed to.”
Sam clears his throat.
Dean takes the hint and joins Sam at the trunk. “Find what you were looking for?” Dean teases, knowing damn well Sam had just been pretending to be busy.
Sam gives him a bitchface and practically throws the machete at him. Dean rolls his eyes and hands it to Cas, grabbing a spare one for himself.
The three of them enter the barn. It’s old and spooky looking and there’s old farm tools lying around, rusty rebar sticking out from different spots on the walls, it’s a mess. They hear a noise from around the corner and Sam rounds it to find the two little boys curled up against the wall, shaking.
“Hey, boys,” Dean whispers, lowering the machete, “Come on, stay behind us, okay? We’re gonna keep you safe.”
They turn around towards the door and Dean’s heart drops. Four masked vampires are blocking the exit, with one of them being particularly large and angry-looking. Dean swears he’s staring directly at him.
Sam turns the kids around towards the back of the barn. “Go! Run!”
The vamps charge.
Dean sees Sam slice the first one’s head clean off. The large vamp marches directly up to Dean, a large knife in hand. Meanwhile, Cas is fighting off the two others on his own and if Dean wasn’t two seconds away from being impaled on this guy’s huge knife (there’s probably a gay joke in there somewhere), he might’ve been more worried about him.
“Oh, fuck,” he swears as the vamp charges. Dean kicks his leg out and hits the guy square in the nutsack which does send him reeling back – enough time for Dean to readjust his grip on his weapon. Just as he’s about to strike, one of the vamps Cas was fighting grabs Dean from behind, holding a cool blade up to his neck. Dean stops dead in his tracks.
“Well, well, well,” comes a muffled, but definitely feminine voice from behind his right ear, “if it isn’t the famous Dean Winchester.”
The big vamp, who is now the only one of the others still alive, pauses and stares – though it’s kinda hard to tell with the mask and all.
“Drop it,” the vamp holding Dean snaps at Cas and Sam and their blades clatter to the ground immediately. Dean can see Cas out of the corner of his eye. He has a split lip and looks like he’s about to throw up, but he seems fine otherwise. Sammy’s eyes dart around the barn frantically and Dean knows he’s trying to think of what to do. Maybe he’s trying to communicate with Cas.
The vampire takes off her mask and Dean turns his head slightly. He doesn’t see much of her face and she looks vaguely familiar, but he can’t place her.
“Sorry, sweetheart, do I know you?” he says, forcing his voice to stay even.
“Don’t remember me?” she says.
“Jenny,” Sam recognizes and Dean mentally goes through every Jenny he’s ever known and comes up blank.
“Hi. Been a while. See, I’ve had one wish ever since that night 15 years ago and looks like today’s my lucky d-“ Cas stabs her in the back with the angel blade. In the short moment it takes for the other vamp to react, Dean ducks down, grabs his machete and slices her head off. The big guy vamp lets out an ugly sort of yell and charges. Sam and Cas spring into action, but the guy is faster. He grabs Dean by the arms and shoves him back against a wooden beam. Dean gasps as he feels sharp, cold waves of pain shoot up through his back and his vision whites out. He feels like all the breath got sucked out of his lungs.
Sam beheads the vamp with one swing and the body drops to the ground.
“Dean.” Sam is by Dean’s side immediately. “You okay?”
Dean struggles to breathe.
“Th-there’s something… in my back,” he wheezes.
Sam’s face drains of colour. He rushes over and his hand finds the wound on Dean’s back, gently, but Dean still gasps at the pain. Sam’s hand comes away bloody.
“Fuck,” Sam whispers.
“Where are the kids? Are they okay?” Dean can’t see the kids. He can’t see the kids, that’s why they were here, to save the kids. Where are the kids?
“They’re fine, Dean, we got ‘em,” Sam soothes, his eyes welling up with tears. Dean can tell, because he blinks furiously.
“Are you okay?” Dean croaks, scanning Sam for any obvious injuries. His eyes are watering and he can’t really see. Sam squeezes Dean’s arm. “I’m good.”
“Where’s Cas?”
“He’s fine, Dean, can you… can you move at all?”
Dean blinks. He can’t see Cas. “Sammy, Cas… he’s human, man, what if he’s hurt?”
Just then Cas rushes back inside the barn, coming to a stop next to Dean, wide-eyed.
“I got the kids in the car,” he says and Dean exhales a sigh of relief. He coughs.
“Damn,” Dean says around a humourless laugh that turns into a cough. “Imagine if we had an angel with healing powers here.”
It’s supposed to be a joke, but it doesn’t land. Sam clenches his jaw and Cas stares at him like Dean’s dying or something. Which – Dean’s died enough times to know what that feels like. “Sorry,” he whispers, concentrating on breathing.
“Cas, you got him? I’m getting the first aid kid.”
Sam hurries out to the car. Dean looks at Cas and he knows Cas sees it. That this is it. “Uno reverse, huh,” he jokes, but it comes out tired. Cas doesn’t react, though Dean knows he got it.
Dean wishes he had a speech. He wishes could think of a thousand beautiful, heartfelt things to say to Cas about how life is worth living and Cas will move on and be happy after, but he knows it would be a lie, because he wasn’t. He wants to tell Cas how much he loves him, but he knows that the love Cas feels for him is different to his own. He wants to say he’s sorry for how he feels and how he wishes he could change. That he’s sorry he’s wasting Cas’s sacrifice by dying anyway.
He doesn’t say anything.
Cas’s eyes are glassy. He breathes in – a shaky, uneven sound – and rests his hand against the side of Dean’s neck. Dean closes his eyes and leans in to the touch and although Cas doesn’t have any magical angel healing powers, he feels the pain subside a little.
“Dean,” Cas whispers into Dean’s space and Dean feels his breath on his forehead where it has drooped a little. “Yeah,” Dean replies, equally quiet. “Promise me you’re not going to die today.”
Dean’s eyes snap up to meet Cas’s. His are glassy.
“Promise,” Cas repeats, more forcefully this time.
Dean’s throat constricts. He feels his eyes sting and he can’t help the sob that escapes him. He fists his hands into Cas’s jacket and holds on for dear life – probably literally.
“I don’t wanna die,” Dean whispers and it sounds like a confession.
“Not today, not… not like this. Not when I just got you back.”
“Hey,” comes Sam’s voice, loud and panicked, “Is he…?”
Cas stays fixated on Dean. “He’s alive,” he says. Still, Dean thinks.
Sam grabs Dean’s other arm and Dean feels Cas’s grip on his waist tighten. “Alright,” Sam’s voice is too loud for how close he is. Dean knows he’s trying to be brave. He’s so, so proud of him.
The world seems to blur.
“Hey! Hey, stay awake, okay?” Sam slaps Dean’s face. “We’re gonna have to move you.”
“No, no,” Dean grits out, “I can’t- I can’t be moved, Sam.”
Sam makes a noise in his throat, something between a sob and a grunt. “I know! I know, okay? But we have to. We don’t have time, Dean, you need a hospital.”
“Can we call an ambulance?” Cas asks, voice rising in pitch.
Sam shakes his head. “No time. And… the bodies.”
Dean clenches his jaw so hard he’s worried he might actually chip a tooth.
“Do it,” he manages and Sam doesn’t need telling twice. He and Cas pull Dean off what looks like a rusty nail of some kind but Dean barely has time to register that before he just passes the fuck out into Sam and Cas’s arms.
He thinks that if he had a choice in how he goes, he would like to die in his brother and best friends’ arms, so. It really could be worse.
The next thing he knows, he’s staring up at the white, sterile ceiling of what seems to be a hospital room. Everything is blurry, so it’s kinda hard to tell, but he knows the bunker’s ceilings and he knows what Hell looks like and this isn’t either, so he figures he must somehow be alive.
He blinks and tries to focus on something, but he feels floaty and disconnected from his own body. Distantly, he thinks he can make out Sammy’s voice, but he can’t place where it’s coming from. He tries to say Sam’s name, but nothing comes out. The world goes dark again.
Soft rays of sunlight wake Dean up some time later. He blinks, mouth and throat feeling like cotton, his energy levels so low even just opening his eyes feels like a Herculean task. He groans – this is not how this day was supposed to go. “How long… how long was I out?” he rasps and turns his head, expecting Sam. Cas is sitting on a chair next to Dean’s bed, holding Dean’s hand and he is also asleep. It’s kinda weird seeing Cas sleep and Dean can’t help the rush of panic seeing him like that - unmoving. It’s irrational and illogical, but… he’s always been a bit of both when it comes to Cas, he supposes.
“Cas,” he whispers and it takes all the strength he has to gently squeeze the fingers resting in Cas’s hand. Cas jerks awake, instantly sitting up in his chair.
“You’re awake,” Cas says as if he can’t quite believe it.
Dean sinks back down into the pillow, his heart rate slowing again. “Yeah, I thought I’d leave the ‘dying in front of your best friend’ thing to you,” Dean jokes, but the words carry no real emotion. He’s tired. “How long was I out?”
Cas glances up at the clock mounted above the bed.
“19 hours and 23 minutes,” Cas deadpans and Dean snorts, warmth blooming in his chest. Of course Cas would have literally counted the minutes.
“Where’s Sam?”
“I texted Eileen to call him a little while ago; I’m guessing he’s still on the phone,” Cas says.
Dean nods. “Thanks.”
He knows his brother and he knows how Sam gets when something’s up with Dean. He’s grateful for Cas and Eileen – Sam needs something to do, he doesn’t want the kid to sit at his bedside worrying and not getting any sleep.
“How are you feeling?” Cas asks and Dean becomes suddenly aware that his hand is still clasped in Cas’s.
He stares at their entwined hands. Is this weird? He doesn’t wanna make it weird for Cas, but removing his hand would make it obvious that he’s aware of what they’re doing and that would be even more awkward, because then Dean is basically rejecting Cas again, kind of. Also, he just almost died, so he figures it’s probably socially acceptable to hold your buddy’s hand under these circumstances.
Also, Cas’s hand is warm and soft, so.
“Dean?” Cas prods gently, leaning down slightly to catch Dean’s eyes.
“Um… better, I guess. Can’t really feel much, honestly. What… what was it?”
Dean remembers the sharp pain in his back; he assumes it was some sort of nail or something.
“Rebar,” Cas says, like the piece of rebar personally wronged him.
Dean winces. Ouch.
“Good thing I got my tetanus shot, huh?” he jokes. Cas shakes his head looking fond and Dean can’t help but grin back at him.
The door swings open and Sam practically crashes into the room.
“Dean!”
Dean smiles at him. “Hi, Sammy.”
He lets go of Cas’s hand.
“How are you? The doc told us you lost some blood, but that it’s not as bad as we thought at first. Does it hurt?” Sam rambles on, pulling up another chair so he can sit down next to Cas.
“I’m good, Sam. Tired, but I’ll be fine.”
Sam nods and his lips twitch a little in the way they do when he’s relieved but still terribly anxious anyway. Dean gives him a reassuring smile.
“Good, that’s great.”
“Is Miracle okay?”
Sam chuckles. “Yeah, she’s fine. Roxy from the daycare sent me a video just a few hours ago, actually, I told her she’d have to stay for a few extra days.”
“What’d you say?”
“Car accident,” Sam says, fishing his phone out of his pocket. He hands it to Dean and Dean watches the video of Miracle twice. She’s playing in the grass with two other much smaller dogs and her fur has changed to a dark brown colour. Her paws are caked in mud.
“Damn, Roxy’s gonna have her work cut out for her. She hates baths,” Dean comments.
“That’s why she relates to you so much,” Sam mutters and Dean swipes through his photo gallery in revenge. Sam snatches his phone back and Dean cackles.
Sam may feign annoyance, but Dean knows he needs this – his brother to wind him up and steal his phone and react to Sam making fun of him.
He needs to know that Dean’s not going anywhere. That he’s gonna be okay and that he’s already better.
Sam sinks into the chair next to Cas and starts recounting some hunting story Eileen told him. Dean half-listens, his hand hanging over the edge of the bed.
Cas takes it.
He doesn’t say anything or even look at Dean, really, but he gets it. He rubs circles onto the back of Dean’s hand and Dean closes his eyes and thinks that he’s glad he’s alive.